#school lunch keypads

[tea-and-secrets]

When I was eight years old I was playing with my friends during lunch break and held off my need to pee for longer than I should have. Needless to say, when I did eventually run off, I did not make it. I spent a long time pacing in the stall wondering what to do, and only came out when the class bell rang. I didn't want to go back to class, because i knew it would be noticeable immediately, and I was panicking and ashamed. A few times I would peek out the door, hoping that the class across the hall would close the damn door. It never did. Eventually, I decided to just screw it, and walked out like I was going to return to class (they probably never noticed me there anyway, now that I think of it), but rather than walking toward my classroom at the end of the hall, I went out through the side door of the school, which led to the staff parking lot (I believe), closing it quietly behind me. Nobody stopped me. Everybody in that building was either in their classroom or the office. I just walked home like that. It was a weekday afternoon, and I lived in a pretty quiet suburban district, so the streets were completely empty. The only slight discomfort was from the chill, since it was late fall, and I had tied my jacket around my waist.

I knew my mom would be at home then. I pressed the keypad of the gate while crouching to avoid my face being caught on the camera, then snuck along the garden fence, imagining myself to be cleverly evading the cameras’ lines of sight. (Now, I realize my mom probably didn’t check them, but they were visible, so I HAD to sneak around like a little thief). The front door was locked; this i knew. Usually we went home through the garage, but it was old and creaky, and it was impossible to go through it without someone in the house noticing. I circled the house several times, cataloging the cameras, and trying the doors, even inspecting the lower windows. There was no entrance.

I realized what I had to do then: my mom picked up my brother and I at three, so while she was gone, I would sneak in through the garage and change, and probably take a shower. Plan made, all I had to do was wait. I had no phone or watch, and I couldn’t see the clock through the windows. It was a long and agonizing wait, just standing there outside in November for two or so hours.

Finally, I heard the garage door open. She was leaving. I went in. Now it might feel like the story ends here, but there were so many loose ends I didn’t think about. My mom was waiting with my brother at school for me until she tried to call home and I picked up, telling her I walked home early “just because”. My backpack was still hanging in the classroom, and I had to awkwardly tell her I accidentally left it behind (thankfully, she decided not to ask me further about it). I probably had homework I didn’t know about that I don’t remember now. My friends asked me why I disappeared suddenly without taking anything, and I had to give some sort of excuse along the lines of “emergency. Really big emergency.” My absence that afternoon wasn’t known by the school, and my friends questioned me on why my teacher didn’t know where I was. Thinking about it all now, it was an absolute wonder that I got away with it at all, but my teacher didn’t ask me any further questions about it, and my mom never even brought it up.

Anyway, that was the only time I ever ditched school.

.

[vixensofsorrow]

Demolition Lovers - Ⅳ i'll hang myself in lights and I will glow for you

DISCLAIMER: This fic is a long slowburn with multiple chapters, still being updated. also on AO3 my masterlist (all the chapters are linked there) PAIRING: young!Carol Denning/fem!reader OVERALL SUMMARY: An exploration of your and Carol's relationship through the years. CHAPTER SUMMARY: The argument won't leave your mind, and you need to take care of it ASAP. CHAPTER TAGS: fluff, angst, developing relationship, argument, hurt/comfort, complicated feelings A/N: I absolutely suck at the chapter tags thing

You dreaded the thought of going to school tomorrow. You spent the whole Saturday in your bed, puking up Fridays’ regrets into a bucket, with a pounding headache and a tight knot in your stomach.

Even though it was a Sunday night, some consequences of excessive drinking still hadn’t worn off, but you weren’t exactly sure if it was anxiety, a hangover, or an awful combination of both. Your parents had their suspicions, but you and your sister made a great team when it came to lying to them, and food poisoning was the most plausible excuse. Dana could tell that you were in a bad mood, but you blamed it on the alcohol.

You couldn’t remember most of what happened at the party, and you only found out about the argument that happened between you and Carol when Gina called yesterday to check in on you, but when you asked her about the topic of the fight, she said that all she could recall was all the yelling, crying, and swearing, and not what it was actually about.

You wondered if Carol also forgot about what went down. Most likely not, since she didn’t ring you at all, but you’ll find out tomorrow. The urge to call her with an apology for whatever you did was overwhelming, but so was the dread.

You gulped and reached over to the spruce-blue landline on your end table, inputting her number on the keypad. Halfway through, you stopped and put the handset down.

One time, Jennifer advised that “ No one should trust themselves after 9 PM ”, and perhaps she had a good point. Maybe for now, you should go to sleep obliviously and not relive the childhood flashbacks of confusion and desolation.

The bell rang, and English class was dismissed. Carol didn’t show up to school at all today, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your fault. Thankfully, you’ll have a whole hour to linger on it, since it was lunch period.

You slowly walked down the traffic-jammed stairway, resisting the rude urge to cut in front of others, as you gave stern looks to the freshmen who still hadn’t caught the hand of the unspoken school etiquette. After what seemed like forever, you reached the ground floor and made your way toward the cafeteria, but frankly, you weren’t even in the mood to eat right now.

The overpowering stench of frying grease, tomato sauce, and overboiled broccoli wafted around in the canteen, and with that, the rest of your appetite disappeared completely.

Most of the long, beige-laminate rectangle tables were still empty, with most people waiting in line with their trays.

You nipped over to the vending machine, before a line could form there as well, and bought yourself a coke. As you expected, the grody machine swallowed your twenty-five cents, without giving you the item. Shit, you must’ve been cursed, because everything that could go wrong, went wrong. You just hoped you wouldn’t majorly fuck up at practice today.

You sighed and repeatedly banged on the dispenser to loud snickering coming from one of the groups, which caused you to turn around. Typically, you’d ignore it, but all your patience already run out. You didn’t have to look for long to find the perpetrators of the hyena-like laughter, of course it were the wannabe Valley Girls, but with a new addition to them; a thin, tall girl with sharp cheekbones, wide mouth, brown perm hair, and a fringe.

Strangely, she reminded you of somebody, but you brushed it off, blinded by irritation. You made eye contact with her and walked away from the vending machine, flipping their table off with a fake smile as you passed by on the way to where you always sat.

You plopped down on the plastic seat facing Rachel and stretched out your arms on the table with a groan. Fortunately, your lunch period aligned with hers, Gina's, Kristen’s, and now Carol’s, too.

“L/N, you’re that upset over a can of Coke?” Gina teased, probably exactly knowing what you’re actually upset about, poking around in the food with a fork, as Rachel ate the soggy mozzarella sticks and Kristen counted coins she pulled out of her pocket.

You looked up at her with a poker face, sucking in your cheek. “Uh, you know what, I’m upset for a different reason, but yeah, let’s go with that.”

Kristen peered up from her stack of coins and joined in on the conversation, her soft eyes analyzing your expression. “You wanna talk about it?” She had a caring and comforting aura, making it very hard to resist venting your heart out.

“Not really. I’m curious though, do any of you know what, like, actually went down between me and Carol at Nicole’s party?” You cracked your knuckles and took off your jacket, tying it around your waist while you waited for an answer. Rachel furrowed her bushy ginger eyebrows, still chewing her food, switching her attention from you to Gina, the only one who vaguely knew what happened, to confused Kristen, who put the coins back in her jean pocket, and then again back to you. 

The goalkeeper broke the silence as she swallowed the fried cheese. “Enge, what? Are you talking about that girl you were with? The one with the glasses?” She gesticulated.

Gina raised her brows and looked away, forming her dark red lips into a straight, thin line. 

“Okay, yeah, so nobody knows what really happened, fuck.” You groaned and leaned back in the chair, pushing back your cuticles. “Also, yes, I am talking about the one with the glasses. ”

Gina rested her elbows on the table. “Listen, from my point of view, I heard vague shouting and cursing, and then you bro-”

You cut her off in the middle of the sentence. “You told me all of that already, thanks.”

“Well, then that’s your only clue, L/N. Unless you want to walk around asking half the school about it.” The defensive-midfielder snapped back with her raspy voice. 

“Rachel, what about you?” You continued searching for an answer, even though you were aware that she most likely didn’t know anything. Still, you held onto a sprinkle of hope.

“I was taking care of ‘Ronica the whole time, sorry.” 

Kristen joined in on the conversation, and your eyes immediately lit up. “Actually, oh gosh, well, probably this won’t even help you…but” The blonde-haired defender was about to break into a long, detailed narrative of what she saw.

“Okay, so, I was hanging out in the kitchen, and I dragged Jason to the party with me, and we were sitting there together, talking, whatever. Gosh, he’s such a dweeb, but in a good way, he started writing down lyr-”

“Get to the point, Kris.” Gina reminded, gently laying her hand on Kristen’s shoulder.

“Right, right, sorry. So there was that and in the middle of us talking this disheveled girl with huge glasses and a blue flannel stormed in, I had a realization like, hey, I think she’s the new girl from Art class, but anyway…”

You were sure that she was indeed talking about Carol, and you sat up straight in your seat, listening carefully. The whole table focused on Kristen and the story.

“…And I’m talking disheveled , her face was red and puffy, and she was sniffling, I could tell she was hyperventilating too. Man, I felt really bad for her… Anyway, she pushed away some people who stood in front of the sink and just put her entire head under it while the water was still running, I think she might have been crying. Yeah, and then she leaned on the counter, the water was dripping everywhere, and well she vomited and then ran away.” She took a bite of broccoli that she dipped in marinara sauce. You thought that maybe she would provide some more useful information, but it was better than nothing, and you were desperate.

“Huh, well thanks, Kristy.” You forced yourself to smile swiftly, as a sign of appreciation.

Rachel tilted her head and put her fork down, as her mouth fell open and she squinted her green eyes that pierced right through you. “Hold on, is the girl with the glasses that Carol? Childhood best friend Carol?”

“Yup, that’s her.” The girls oohed in response, and you sighed while dropping your shoulders down.

Everyone on the team knew the lore behind Denning and you, for better or for worse, and surely some of them shared classes with her too.

You contemplated the description of the state Carol was in after the fight you had, and you really didn’t want to believe it, because then, you must’ve done something truly horrible for her to let people see her weak and emotional side. You didn’t want to believe that you abandoned your wasted friend in the middle of an overstimulating party full of people she didn’t know, left by herself in such a moment of vulnerability, surrounded by tons of drugs and alcohol.

The worst kinds of scenarios flooded in, such as someone taking advantage of her, roofing her drink, beating her up, Carol overdosing, or even someone kidnapping her - what if that’s what happened and she was too scared, or embarrassed, or upset to come to school today? What if she couldn’t come at all? Your fingers traveled to the pimple on your cheek, maniacally picking at it.

Perhaps, leaving her be - because it seems that’s what you did, was even worse than the actual argument, with much more serious consequences, and you just let it happen, for whatever idiotic reasons your drunken self had.

Blood began to seep out from the scratched-up acne onto your fingers as Rachel snatched your hand, murmuring, “Stop that” before you could go too far. You shook your head, trying to make the thoughts go away, and Kristen handed you a tissue.

You ran up the stairs as fast as possible, nearly tripping because of your wet shoes. The door almost fell off its hinges as you burst into your bedroom, carelessly throwing the duffle bag away. You swiftly grabbed the note with Carol’s address and phone number written on it, and immediately rushed outside. The cold rain poured down from the gray, cloudy sky as you took off for her house on your bike, still in the soccer uniform and backpack on your shoulders.

This whole situation was bothering you the whole weekend, even more, today, and you were going to figure out what was going on.

It couldn’t go on for another week, or two weeks, or longer, or your brain would eat itself alive with the overthinking. It already was in the process of doing so - you couldn’t remember the last time you did so badly at practice, and you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you fucked up State Championships for everyone because of your anxiety over a childhood best friend.

The wheels hit the puddle potholes, and rainwater mixed with dirt of the streets splashed on your sneakers. The wind blew away the hood of your soaked jacket, some warm-toned leaves brushing past you, your faintly blue-hued fingertips gripping the handle. You had a feeling this adventure would end up with you catching a cold or an unbearable strep throat. The American landscape of gas stations, parking lots, diners, and fast food chains illuminated the streets. You passed by a crowded Domingo’s and made a final right-turn, riding in the middle of a long road full of houses surrounding it from both sides, looking out for Carol’s place. Almost no one was outside except for children playing in the heavy rain or exhausted yuppies returning from work. The street was remotely quiet, except for shouting coming from one of the houses.

During your time scoping out the surroundings, a middle-aged couple walked out of one of the buildings, the man yelling at whoever was standing on the other side of the door as it got shut close aggressively, along with a kid - most likely their daughter, who was talking with her mom. You looked at the address on the paper, and the house number matched the one you just observed, now aware that the parents and favorite child of the Denning family just reversed out of the driveway. You waited for them to drive past you and when they did you immediately got off your bike, charging towards the front door as it hit the lawn, the wheels still spinning, along with your head.

Out of nowhere, heavy trepidation filled your whole body, and a lump formed in your throat as you stood on the porch, almost glued to the oak floor. All the confidence you had went away with the snap of a finger, and the dropping levels of adrenaline brought you down to earth, but your heart was still pounding. Turns out, you weren’t ready to find out the truth, but you couldn’t back out now. You slowly raised your numb, cold hand and knocked repeatedly, until the door swung open, and when it did, your head jerked back and brows furrowed, slowly morphing into high arches as you crossed your arms.

“Um, hi? Oh, it’s you.” Barbara chuckled, with her hands in the pockets of her pants. “You’re mental, how did you even find my house?!”

“Hey, Barb…” Shit, this is awkward. She parted her lips as her tongue darted around inside the mouth, her wide eyes looking you up and down. A smirk grew on her face, and you could tell that some childhood memories came back to her. “...Uh, is Carol home?” You stammered, discreetly cracking your knuckles.

Miss Congeniality scoffed. “Oh my gosh, Y/N. I would’ve never guessed in a hundred years that you, of all people, would be on a high school sports team! I always took you for the artsy type.”

“Right, well, y’know, those two don’t exclude each other… Is Carol home?” You repeated.

“Ugh, yeah.” She stepped aside, letting you in, grimacing as she noticed water dripping everywhere. “Second door on the right.” Barb tilted her head in the direction of the upstairs as she closed the door. “Thanks…” You whispered, slowly walking up, tightly gripping the sleeve of your jacket.

Thank the gods you were drenched from the rain - you didn’t have to worry about the tremendous amount of sweat trickling from your forehead. You took a proper breath, the first one since you got on that bike, and knocked on the poster-covered door. 

“Fuck off, Barbie!” Carol yelled out, her voice was weirdly strained and creaky. You debated if you should knock once again, or just walk in. You landed on the first, and heavy footsteps along with a loud groan and a “What the fuck do you want now?” followed towards you. Maybe you should’ve gone with just storming in; the hostile tone stiffened your muscles and you were so pale that if not for the racing heartbeat, you could’ve sworn you were dead.

She unlatched the door at full tilt, the sudden airflow cooling your wet, wincing body. As she saw you, she immediately shifted from being truculent and aggressive, to calm and collected. Carol leaned on the doorframe, squinting her red, puffy eyes as she took in how much of a mess you were. It took you longer than you’d like to admit, to notice fresh, oval-shaped bruises on her upper arm, which you kept on dwelling at until she rapidly hid the arm behind her back. You wanted to ask her about it, but you couldn’t utter a word.

“You look like hell, Engie.” The use of the nickname caught you off guard. How did she even know it? Carol turned her head away for a second to brush away something on her flushed face.

“How do you even-” You stuttered, shaking your head and blinking rapidly.

“What do you want?” She cut you off in a stern tone. Her jaw was slightly quivering.

You sighed, sucking in air through your teeth, still holding onto your jacket. “Carol, do you, do you remember what happened between us at the party? Or just anything?”

Carol scoffed, and her eyes darted around alongside a puffy pout in a mocking manner. “Well, I do remember. Quite a lot, actually.” She looked you up and down again, clenching her jaw with a now serious expression. “Looking at the state of you, and the fact that you had the audacity to show up at my fucking house, you probably don’t remember shit.”

“Yea, that’s why I fucking asked in the first place, Denning.” You let go of the sleeve and made eye contact with her, even to your surprise, retaliating her attitude. You were fed up and truly did not want to argue, but it seemed like that was the only way to make things clear.

She raised her brows and chuckled. “Alright. I’ll tell you how it went. You were drunk out of your mind, and so was your little best friend Vee, and some ginger girl was there too. You went to help her, and you left me all alone. That was a shitty move, Y/N. Then you came back and started comin’ at me, being all mad that I didn’t help too, or some other bullshit, and when I tried to tell you that I wasn’t feelin’ good too, you pulled out the childhood trauma card, blaming everything on me. And hmm… I think that’s it. Oh, and you also told me to fuck off before storming off and getting even more fucked up. I think you might have a drinking problem or somethin’.” Carol gritted her teeth and smiled at you with narrow, brown, glassy eyes. “Is that enough?”

Your stomach sank. You didn’t want to believe the words that just came out of her mouth. You understood now why she didn’t want to talk to you, after that, you wouldn’t talk to yourself either. She has been back in town for barely a week, and you already fucked it all up for you both. You had a feeling that you should just apologize and walk away now, but you were concerned about what happened after you stormed off, the bruise, and what happened for her to be crying before you even arrived. You might’ve left her alone that time, but you won’t do it now - no matter how much she asks you to. 

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. “Carol, listen. I’m bad at apologies, but I’m sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was worried sick on Saturday, and Sunday, and today. I’m, listen, please, just tell me if I did that to you. ” You pointed at the arm she held behind her back.

Denning averted her eyes from you and stared through the floor. “No, Y/N, it wasn’t you. You feelin’ better now?” She turned away, went over to the pile of clothes on her chair, and put on a sweater as you walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind you. Barb probably eavesdropped enough on that topic.

“No, not really. Did some asshole do this? Zach? Kevin? At the party? Is that why you, uh, you know, the kitchen thing…” You stood in the middle of her room, with boxes scattered around in the corners.

Carol groaned as you said “ the kitchen thing ”, running a hand through her hair and grabbing it by the roots. “God, you’re not gonna let this shit go, won’t you?” She sat down on the bed, and took off her glasses, tapping her foot and chewing on her lip. “It was an asshole, but not at the party, okay? I didn’t get raped or anything. And I told you, I also felt like shit, but you didn’t listen, seems like you’re not listening now either… But that’s why I puked, in that fuckin’ kitchen. Who even told you about this?” Her voice got weaker with each word, and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

A heavy weight lifted off your shoulders when she said that she didn’t get hurt at the party, but concern still lingered around. “Oh, Kris told me. Blonde hair, funky makeup, said you share Art period with her.” You leaned against her dark wood drawer chest, lightly picking at your face. “You know, you can te-”

She could tell where you were going with that and interrupted before you could continue. Maybe it’s for the better not to push the topic today, she was already in distress. 

“Oh, her. She’s sweet.” Carol uttered.

She wasn’t angry anymore, her voice was dull and she gazed off into the distance, avoiding you, like something would snap inside of her if she caught a glimpse. Her shoulders slumped forward, almost as if she took on the burden that just fell off yours.

The sudden, longer-than-usual hollow silence, only broken by raindrops hitting the window, filled the room with a painful aura of vulnerability and, strangely, nostalgia. You kept on looking at an almost catatonic Carol, unsure of what to do, a childlike confusion, similar to when you see your parent crying for the first time. It’s been so long since you saw her like this, and every idea that came to mind just seemed wrong.

You could remember that she didn’t like pity, but also that she loved to be held. You sat down cross-legged next to her on the plaid blanket, and before you could do anything, Carol rested her head on your damp shoulder, holding her knees close to her chest, sniffling. For a while, you were kids again, and life was simple. Nothing could hurt you as long as you were in each other's arms.

[pillowsickfics]

alright, I'm still not sure of how these characters are, but I'm really excited about them! Please feel free to ignore this ask if its ooc: about Maverick feeling pretty wretched a day, but not sure if he should speak up on this, since its not very manly of him, only to end up getting sick at the most inconvenient time?

introductory (sorta) fic! woo! B, thank you so much for the request. it was completely it character too! this was so fun and i pumped it out so fast bc i was so excited to write it so forgive any spelling errors and such.. hope u enjoy!

﹌﹌﹌

Maverick should have never opened his eyes. He should have never sat up and he definitely should never have gotten out of bed. Alas, the pull of responsibility dragged him out of his paradise of duvet covers and pillows and forced him take the most miserable shower of his life as well as scarf down a nauseating breakfast of Cap’n Crunch and milk that tasted a few days past the expiration date. The day had already been off to a horrible start, and he didn’t anticipate it getting any better.

He should have known something was up when the previous night, he couldn’t stomach his leftover curry and went to bed earlier than normal. Then, he had passed it off as exhaustion from the long day of classes. He was starting to think it was something a bit more sinister.

For starters, his head pounded like it had never before in his life. Goosebumps appeared all along his broad shoulders and arms as he chafed away the odd chill that clung to him. Despite this, he was sweating buckets, evident by the dark gray stains under his arms and around his neck.

The worst of it, though, had to be his stomach.

It churned and roiled like some kind of lava pit from hell. Every slight movement threatened to send him over the edge, and with it the meager breakfast he choked down. It cramped and twisted and he felt more nauseous than he ever remembered feeling.

But he was fine.

He could handle this. He could “be a man.”

He couldn’t uproot every plan he had just because of a stomach ache.

So that is how he ended up in his current predicament. Biking to his schools hockey rink in the pouring rain while feeling like he was going to lose his lunch at the slightest pebble under his tire.

Usually he caught a ride with his teammate Cameron, who swing by to pick up both him and his roommate Laurie up for practice. For some reason or another, Cameron must not have been able to pick them up that day and so Maverick had to resort to his trusty bike he’d had since junior year of high school.

Laurie was long gone when Maverick had woken up, ever the early riser. He vaguely remembered Laurie mentioning something about 6am office hours, but Maverick didn’t have the energy to try and decipher the memory. He was preoccupied with more pressing matters. Like the fact that he felt like he was spinning in a teacup ride despite simply biking along the smooth sidewalk on the university campus.

After a few more minutes, he pulled up to the building and fastened his bike to the bike rack, but the movement of bending down to scramble the keypad on the bike lock irritated his stomach, causing him to press a fist to his mouth and muffle a burp.

Just for a minute, he allowed himself to express his misery. He let out a soft groan of pain as he braced himself in the seat of his bike and doubled over. He wanted nothing more than to just be back home, in his bed, sleeping off whatever this stomach bug from hell was.

He couldn’t do that, though. He needed to tough it out. He’d been doing it since he was young. He needed to be able to get through practice.

He pulled himself together and walked into the ice rink, sighing lightly under his breath.

As he walked in, he was met with a pair of brown eyes and a messy head of red hair waiting for him at the entrance with crossed arms.

“We we’re all waiting for you, Mav. You’re a whole fifteen minutes late. Coach is NOT happy,” Laurie said, clad in his jersey.

“Yeah yeah, I know.. I’m sorry.. I got caught up in the rain,” Maverick mumbled, making his way towards the lockers to grab his helmet and jersey and sticks.

“That, or you just slept in again, and you’re trying to make excuses,” Kurt muttered, throwing a half-hearted glare toward Mav.

Maverick ignored him. In fact, he couldn’t focus on any of them at the moment. His stomach twisted sourly, and he discreetly bent over to try and soothe the ache. He really didn’t feel good. To top things off, he was almost positive he was running a fever now, because despite being soaked from the rain, he felt pulses of sweat and dizziness overtake him. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be home so he could lay down and rest and he couldn’t imagine having to practice for 4 hours straight and he—

“Mav? You okay?” Laurie stood in front of him, apparently trying to snap him out of whatever fevered daze consumed him.

“Yeah.. yeah I’m alright, just uh… I’m still kinda waking up..” He said with a soft laugh. He didn’t meet Laurie’s eyes.

He couldn’t let his teammates see him like this, even if they were his closest friends. What would they think of him if they knew he was this weak, and couldn’t even push past a little illness. He’d be humiliated. They’d all ridicule him. He didn’t want that.

Laurie frowned skeptically, but he decided to leave it alone for the time being.

He absentmindedly changed into his uniform with a new resolve to just get through practice without utterly embarrassing himself. He laced up his skates and grabbed his sticks and made his way to the ice.

The rest of practice was a blur of drills and agility exercises and cardio that made Maverick want to bury himself in a hole and die. He felt horrible. Every sharp and fast movement made him feel like his belly was pushing its way into his throat. He had to stop for more water breaks than usual, but he didn’t even drink any water because he knew putting anything inside of him would end horribly.

It go so bad that at one point, he was so dizzy he nearly fell over trying to rejoin the group after one of his many water breaks.

Cameron was the one who walked over to steady him.

“What’s up with you man? You’re off your game today,” Cameron said half-jokingly, dragging Maverick back to the center of the rink.

Maverick just shrugged and continued the drills with the rest of the team.

To his credit, he managed to get through almost all of practice without incident. Almost.

It was the second to last set of drills Coach was making them do when Maverick felt a wave of nausea more pressing and intense than any he felt earlier in the day.

He faltered in one of the steps, and he skated off to the side as he doubled over and braced himself on his knees. He took in deep breaths through his nose, trying to will away the nausea, but this time it wasn’t budging. He knew he didn’t have much time. Laurie must have figured it out too, but suddenly he was being lead away from the rink and sat on one of the benches on the sidelines.

He let out a pathetic whimper and slapped a hand over his mouth when he felt his body lurch. He really really didn’t want to be sick here. Not in front of all these people. Tears sprung to his eyes and made him feel exponentially worse. Not only was he about to lose his breakfast in front of his team, but now he was crying in front of them too.

“Shh.. it’s alright dude.. Just breathe, okay? If you’re gonna be sick, you’re gonna be sick. No point in fightin’ it..” Laurie murmured beside him.

Maverick shook his head stubbornly, but his body clearly had had enough.

He pitched forward with a heave and at first, nothing came out. After a few seconds, a sickly burp brought up a wave of watery vomit that splattered on the synthetic rubber between his feet.

Maverick whimpered and he coughed up another mouthful of vomit, dangerously falling forward.

He was caught by a hand on his shoulder and a palm to his forehead that dramatically snapped away.

“Maverick! You burning up! Why the hell didn’t you say anything, you could have passed out or something!” Laurie yelped, patting Maverick back.

“I didn’t—“ Maverick muffled a burp into his fist before continuing. “I felt fine.. I can handle it.. it’s all.. it’s fine..”

“Like hell you are. We’re getting you home. Did you drive here?”

Maverick shook his head. “Biked.”

“In this rain?! Jesus christ Mav, no wonder you feel so shitty!”

As if to emphasize the point, Maverick leaned forward with a hiccup and brought up a small amount of puke, but his body had mostly run out of things to expel. The nausea was still relentless though, and. the fever sweats were worsening by the minute.

“Cam! Can I borrow your car? I’m gonna get this idiot back to his dorm. He biked here and I don’t think he has it in him to bike back,” Laurie yelled out towards the rest of the team, who were watching the situation with respectful distance.

Cameron said something, but Maverick wasn’t listening. An ugly feeling was festering deep within him. He didn’t need to be infantilized like this. Why couldn’t he just man up and deal with his problems on his own? He didn’t need to be taken care of like this. He was fine.

Cameron tossed his keys to Laurie, and Laurie slid an arm under Maverick’s shoulder to help him up, but Maverick lightly shoved him off.

“I can walk on my own.. I’m fine Laurie, you don’t need to stick around..” The words seemed mean, but Maverick said them with no venom. He just sounded like a wounded puppy, if anything.

“Mav.. it’s fine.. don’t worry about it so much, alright? You’re sick. You’re miserable. Let someone lighten the load. You’d do the same thing for me.” Laurie said softly, out of earshot of anyone else.

Maverick felt a lump in his throat grow at the sentiment. This was what it felt like to be cared for unconditionally. He could see now that Laurie wasn’t looking for ways to take advantage of his weakness or make fun of him. He genuinely wanted to help. He actually cared about him, and wanted to make things just a little bit easier on him.

He tilted his head down so Laurie wouldn’t catch the tears that slid down his fevered cheeks. The fever had to be getting to him. It had to be.

Laurie pulled Maverick’s arm around his shoulder and lead him to the parking lot outside the rink.

“Alright big guy.. let’s get you home.”

[i-just-had-a-dream-that]

I don't remember the full thing but I was at school and the layout wasn't like my actual school it was more like monster high and the Addams family house type layout and i was on my way to guitar class and on my way there, there were other guitar students and new teachers who had those effortless toy like electric guitars that had detachable necks and like keypads instead of frets and no tuning pegs and they were showing them off and I was so confused on how they even worked that I missed my guitar class and had to go to physics, and then my friend was hungry and didn't have a snack so I gave them some cranberries that I thought were pomegranates and they liked the cranberries so much that they grabbed my arm pulled me into them and kissed me on the cheek a few times and it was wet and a little odd but I appreciated the gesture so I hugged them back and started walking to lunch and had to fight somebody in guitar hero on the cafeteria TV and there was this homophobic dude that was so scared of me that when I walked into the lunchroom to get the lunch he got blown back into the wall because I walked past him and then suddenly I was in the mlp equestria girls universe at the dance

[whentheskittlesfightback]

today i was in micheals and my school gives us codes that we type into a keypad to get our lunch. we have the same one since we got here, ive been here since kindergarten. just today did i realize the my school codez since i was five years old, is 4132. 413. r u fucking eith me right now.

[coder4u]

At What Age Can a Child Start Coding?

Your children have presumably grown up around computers, video games, smartphones, tablets, and other technology. They may have also begun to show an interest in picking up game programming and coding skills. But is this a wise move, and should you let young children start learning to code?

Children as young as 7 years old can begin learning the fundamentals of coding. In reality, since technology has progressively become a part of daily life, coding has gained popularity over the past few years.

In order to provide you with a primer on what coding is, we’ll cover it in this article’s most basic terms.

What does coding means ?

Programming for computers or developing are other names for coding. Through the use of coding, computers are “told” how to carry out certain operations. Code, or a collection of instructions a computer needs in order to operate in a preferred manner, is used to do this.

When code is reduced to its most basic components, it is just computer language. It involves a number of actions, reactions, and inputs.

The microwave in your kitchen is one everyday example of coding! When preparing lunch, you press the start button after entering the cooking time on the keypad. Following that, the microwave’s operating code starts up and gets to work using the cooking time you specified.

The plate within the microwave is rotated by a motor. When the door is shut, the microwave merely turns on, after which the digital timer starts to run out. The microwave will beep or ding when the timer reaches zero to indicate that the task is over and all moving parts will stop.

The majority of the time, using an interface, you can only interact with a very small portion of what coding is capable of. This could refer to your computer keyboard, smartphone touchscreen, or microwave keypad. Programmers or developers are the only ones who can identify what these codes are capable of.

As early as possible, children should begin learning to code because it will better prepare them for the future and provide them with chances in tech-related industries. Furthermore, coding is a skill that is becoming increasingly valuable in today's society. Coding can also be applied in regular circumstances. Coding, for instance, can make a robot that cleans the house or schedule lights to come on and go off at specific times. It aids in task automation and increases the effectiveness of procedures. Even games for kids can be programmed using code!

Why should coding be taught in schools ?

Anyone can ask, "What are the benefits of learning to code?" The answer is that learning to code has numerous advantages. In the modern digital era, learning how to code is regarded as fundamental. Therefore, every school should aim to start teaching coding to its children when they are young. Kids can at least learn what “coding” actually means. Why is it so fascinating? Why should children learn to code?

It helps to develop problem solving mindset

Learning the fundamentals of programming and having a basic understanding of computers will help kids comprehend how things work. They will discover the value of arithmetic in logical problem-solving. Children should be taught to code so that they can develop these problem-solving skills at a young age.

It helps them to develop strength

Children learn how to recover from setbacks and do it in the most effective way through coding. They learn how to accept their mistakes and not give up, but rather to learn from them. Additionally, they might learn that failure is a necessary component of progress because it offers a teaching opportunity. The biggest justification for teaching coding to kids is that they will learn that “debugging” the code is half the pleasure, not a chore.

Coding teaches how to think ?

Computer programming is more about your capacity to think than it is about executing lines of code. Your students will learn how to think critically and creatively as they learn to code. It involves using logic. To handle a complex issue successfully, programmers typically take a look at the problem as a whole and then divide it into manageable components.

Programming is present and programming of future

Coding or programming, is seen as a crucial ability in this developing era because it is used by a variety of firms, not only those in the technology industry. A child who learns to code will benefit from having more job opportunities in the future, whether they are in the health field, the technology industry, finance, retail, or anywhere else. Children should learn how to code for this reason.

How should kids learn to code ?

If you start off too quickly, your kids will become impatient. The entire procedure should be enjoyable. Therefore, it is advised to do things slowly, learn new things over time, and finish little jobs as you go. You should do the following to teach your children how to code:

Introduce the basics first

To understand a concept, it is essential to understand its base. Your children can learn about coding by reading or watching various videos. All the basics of coding are covered in several books and articles. There is a wealth of information on YouTube if your child prefers to learn through watching and listening to videos.

Try something small

As they discovered that coding is the foundation for different robots, video games, and movies, your children are eager to learn more and are prepared for it. Giving them a challenging assignment will likely aggravate them. The open-world adventure game they’re working on shouldn’t be their first endeavor. Begin by offering them a modest gift. In order to keep students interested and motivated before they fully enter the programming world, this is the best strategy.

What is the best coding language for kids ?

As we have discussed, learning to code is important, but choosing which language to begin with might be challenging. Some languages are simpler than others, but some have more uses. This post highlights a few languages that are appropriate for your child.

Python

Python programming language is as simple to read as spoken English. It is frequently utilized in the real world and is simple to learn and practice. Many programs can be made using its resources. It already has common functionality built in. It is ideal for kids because of all these features.

Java

Java programming, or programming in any language, develops both strong logical reasoning abilities and creativity. A problem can frequently be approached and solved in a number of different ways. Finally, cooperation skills are developed by aspiring programmers through group classes and projects. Professional software engineers frequently collaborate in teams to plan projects, produce code, review work, and resolve issues. Therefore, one of the most important abilities a software engineer may acquire is cooperation.

CodeKaroYaaro

CodeKaroYaaro

Many children do not find the perfect opportunity to learn to code, but the Suvidha Foundation brings new hope into their lives. An online coding school named CodeKaroYaaro is a great platform for children of all ages to learn coding. With a motto for code changes, Code Karo Yaaro brings online coding classes for kids at a very nominal course fee, which is almost 1/3rd of any other coding class. Not just that CodeKaroYaaro offers a free trial class to everyone. Here, you can find a variety of interesting coding courses.

CodeKaroYaaro has the following features that differs them from any other institute -

1. 1 -one- 1 Interactive sessions

2. Instant doubt solving

3. Learn how to brainstorm ideas

4. Affordable fees

5. Quality education

6. Mentor support for kids

For more details, Contact CodeKaroYaaro here -

CodeKaroYaaro — www.codekaroyaaro.com

Suvidha Foundation — http://suvidhafoundationedutech.org/

Instagram — https://www.instagram.com/codekaroyaaro/?igshid=1nb6afsffwzd

Instagram — https://instagram.com/suvidha_mahila_mandal?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Linkedin — https://www.linkedin.com/company/67923520/admin/

YouTube -https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0GUyPIpdDVJQMugEtkH8Pw

Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/codekaroyaaro

Twitter — https://twitter.com/CodeKaroYaaro

Email — http://parents.support@codekaroyaaro.com

Address — H NO. 1951, Near Water Tank Annamod, Khaparkheda, Nagpur, Maharashtra, 441102

[stegrossaurus]

Yeti in the Basement

Yeti in the Basement

by Dolores

Mom and Dad brought home the monster in early September. They’d left earlier that day talking about a tip they’d received a while ago. A few hours later, the van had pulled into the garage and Mom had come upstairs to tell me to stay in my room and not look out the window. I’d done as I was told, but I could still hear them pushing something heavy and loud through the garage-basement door. They never said it was a monster, but I heard Mom tell Dad that the neighbors would freak out if they saw the ‘specimen’, so it had to be.

They’d brought home plants and animals and stuff before, but this was the first time it was something alive. They were really excited. Dad had said that it would make them rich and famous and that they’d be the first ones to prove it existed.

“Remember, Lolo, do not go into the basement for any reason,” Mom had said. I’d known the rules about the basement, but this time, she’d sounded really, extra serious. Maybe even a little scared. “No matter what you hear, don’t even open the door. Understand?”

The basement doors all had keypad locks on them, so I didn’t know why Mom was worried. But I’d promised not to go near the door.

That was months ago. Like Mom said, they are muffled noises coming from the basement door: zaps and hums from all the machines they bring down there and roars from the monster. The basement’s soundproofed, but I can still hear it when I’m in the kitchen. It’s scary and sometimes I feel sad for whatever’s down there, but Mom and Dad told me that they’re being as nice as possible to the monster and their work will help a lot of people. So I guess it’s okay, even if the roars sound like crying sometimes. It’ll all be worth it in the end.

They’ve both been working so hard on the specimen, that I don’t see them a lot. When I do see them, they’re a little grouchy. While I’m eating lunch in the kitchen, Dad stomps up the stairs and out of the basement, slamming the door behind him. He looks angry, so I guess whatever experiments he’s running didn’t work. He doesn’t even look at me as he goes to the fridge for a beer.

When he notices me, he asks, “Dolores, where’s your mother? Did she go to the store?” 

“I think she went to get more equipment,” I say. I don’t actually know where she went, but their lab in the city is the only place they’ve gone in weeks. 

Dad grumbles and sits down to drink. He doesn’t ask me how school’s going or why I has bruises on my arm or anything, they can get a little serious when they’re working, but for a while now they’ve been a little mean. I’m afraid to talk to him, but I try anyway.

“How are the experiments going, Daddy?”

His eyes narrow and he makes a sound like a growl. “Why do you want to know? Have you been spying on us?” His voice starts getting louder and he stands up.

“No, I was just curious,” I say quickly. “I wasn’t spying, I swear.”

“Good! Just stay out of this! Understand?” Dad storms down to the basement. I can hear him through the open door a little. “What are you laughing at? How about I get some of the big toys? Maybe you’ll think that’s funny, too!” He runs back upstairs, gets his coat, and heads for the door. “Your mom and I will be back late,” he says before leaving.

I should be sad that my parents spend so much time gone, but I’m actually relieved. They’ve been jerks for months now, everyone’s been. I was so happy to start third grade, but most of my classmates are bullies and I’ve got the bruises and stolen homework to prove it. Mrs. Buchannon’s no help, she either ignores us or is just as awful. The neighbor kids throw rocks and their parents threaten to call the police on me just for walking by their houses, so going for a walk is out. It’s gross outside anyway, it’s freezing cold, the sky’s solid gray like it’s trying to rain, the plants are all dying, and there’s roadkill everywhere. It’s like the whole world just decided to be trash all at once. I keep telling myself that it’ll all be worth it when my parents’ discovery makes us rich, but I’m not sure that I believe it anymore.

“This sucks. What is going on with people?” I mutter to myself. I don’t let myself cry, but I kind of want to. “I wish at least one person could stop acting like crap and just be a human being.” 

“Dolores?” a soft voice whispers. It’s so quiet, I’m surprised I can hear it, but it feels like it’s right in my ear. “Dolores? Do you want to come down here?” Suddenly, I realize that Dad never closed the basement door. “It’s okay, Dolores. You don’t have to answer now. The code for the keypad is 559345 in case you change your mind later.”

I don’t answer or close the door, I just run upstairs and lock myself in my room. How did it know my name? It probably overheard Dad when he was in the kitchen, I tell myself. But the door wasn’t open then. Had my parents just said it while they were down there? That was probably it. The rational explanation calmed me down a little. Even if it does know my name, it’s probably locked in a cage so it can’t hurt me. 

“So I guess I can go down there. For a bit.” The idea gives me chills. I’ve never had a chance to see their lab before and after them being pubes for so long, breaking their number one rule would be pretty sweet.

“Just a little peek,” I say as I go back to the kitchen. I’m whispering and tiptoeing as if there’s anyone to catch me. It makes everything feel more fun, like sneaking down for a late-night snack and hoping Mom and Dad don’t hear me.

I hold my breath as I open the basement door further and creep down the steps. The walls and ceiling are covered with metal and those zigzaggy tiles that Freddy’s dad has in his recording studio. There are hazmat suits and gas masks hanging on the stairway wall. The basement itself is full of machines that I can’t even guess the purpose of hooked up to the walls or to large computers. There are beakers full of foul smelling chemicals and a fridge cabinet with even more. Papers and folders are thrown around everywhere. All the grief they used to give me about keeping my room clean and they work in a pigsty. Then I hear the whispering again.

“That didn’t take very long, naughty girl. What would your parents think of you being here?” Uh oh. If the monster decides to tattle on me, Mom and Dad will kill me. But then the creature laughed, not a mean or sinister laugh, a friendly one. “Don’t worry, Lolo, I won’t tell. There’s nothing wrong with a little rule-breaking now and then, right? Now come closer and let me see you.”

I’m scared, but I came this far. Behind a row of the large computers is a big glass tube hooked up to a buzzing antenna. At first, I think the monster in the tube is just a blob of flesh, but when it shuffles around to see me, I can see that it’s human-shaped. Its head and the entire back of it are almost skeletal, with bones visible under tight skin and patchy white fur. But its neck, chest, stomach, and even the front-facing side of its bony limbs hang down in jelly-like droops like in those weight loss shows Mom likes. It lowers its ape-like face to me and stretches its mostly lipless mouth into a smile.

“Hello, Dolores.” Its mouth barely moves but I can hear it perfectly.

“Hi, Mr. Monster,” I say as bravely as I can. I’m not sure what else to say so I just ask the question that’s been on my mind. “What are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“What do you think I am?” it asks, cocking its head. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Your parents found me near the mountains and captured me while I was sleeping. I was too weak in the summer to fight them off and they’ve used that to keep me weak ever since.” It points to the antenna, giving off a heat haze as it buzzes noisily. “Any ideas?”

I think for a minute. A large, white furred mountain creature that doesn’t like heat and was already well-known? Then it hits me. “You’re a Yeti! You were hibernating in the summer just like bears hibernate in the winter! Am I right?” The monster smiles. “Everyone thinks you’re a myth. No wonder Mom and Dad were so excited to find you.” The Yeti fidgets and his gray eyes narrow. Of course, they didn’t just find him, they kidnapped him and have been holding him here for months. “I’m sure they’ll let you go once they finish their tests and prove you exist.”

“Sweet Dolores,” the Yeti says softly. “Your parents are trying to vivisect me. They’ve tried scanning me with every machine they have and they haven’t found what they’re after. Now they’re starving me hoping that my body will become fragile enough for them to cut open.” Vivisect is starting to sound like a bad thing.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Yeti,” I say as nicely as I can. What else do you say to someone your parents are torturing? “Everyone’s been acting like monsters lately, but I didn’t think they’d hurt another person.”

The Yeti smiles again. “You still see me as a person? You’re such a good girl, Dolores. You don’t deserve the way your parents treat you any more than I do. And please, call me Nick.”

After being ignored and snapped at for so long, it feels nice to hear that. “You’re a good person, too, Nick. And you shouldn’t be locked up here.”

I try and fail to open the tube or shut down the antenna, and after that, I promise to visit him whenever I can until I can set him free. With Mom and Dad out of the house a lot and Nick’s sharp ears and nose to tell me when they were coming back, I have plenty of chances. Mrs. Buchannon lets us out early a lot and doesn’t show up almost as much, so school’s not much of an issue, either. My parents sometimes leave money for pizza or takeout, but sometimes I go to the store to buy the sweets Nick likes. 

“You went to the store today? I thought it was too dangerous to go outside,” the Yeti says as I open the little hatch at the base of the tube and slide a cookie in.

“I’ll be fine. The neighbor kids have pretty bad aim,” I say, hiding a new bruise on my arm. “And it’s nothing compared to being stuck in a tube for months. I can handle a few bullies.” 

And I do. I start riding my bike faster and dodging rocks better and, if I get cornered by older kids who want what’s in my shopping bag, hitting and biting harder, too. It doesn’t always work; I still get hit or have my groceries stolen sometimes. But each time, I do a little better and I feel a little prouder. I feel like I found a part of me that’s been missing for months. I didn’t realize that the weird gloominess was affecting me, too, but now I feel like a fog is lifting. 

And it’s not just my fog, either.

“Mrs. Buchannon actually assigned some homework today,” I tell Nick after the first full day of school I’ve had in a while. “And one of the bullies on the way home told his friend that I wasn’t worth it. That’s what jerks say when they want an excuse not to be jerks. It’s like people are getting back to normal.”

“Goodness is contagious, Dolores,” Nick says happily. “The braver and kinder you are, even when it’s hard, the easier it will be for you and everyone else to do.” He’s gotten a lot better in the week and a half we’ve known each other. He can stand up a little straighter, his fur is starting to grow, and his rolls are filling out.

The world outside the basement seems a little brighter, too. The sky’s still gray and the trees are still bare, but something about it seems less scary and creepy. Maybe it’s the neighbors being a bit nicer or maybe it’s just that missing piece thatI’d found.

Unfortunately, Mom and Dad’s gloominess seems to still be in place. They barely talk to me and spend all of their time at the lab downstairs or the one in the city. They’re still crabby and they haven’t given up on chopping up Nick.

“Are we sure the scrambler’s working?” I overhear Dad say one night. He and Mom are in the living room, too focused on their work to notice me on the stairs. “He’s getting stronger.”

“I can see that,” Mom snaps. “If he breaks out, he’ll kill us. But if we just knock him out and release him in the mountains, maybe he won’t remember the way back. He’ll go back to his life–”

“And our funding and credibility goes down the drain. We need to get something out of this. I say we take him to the main lab. Even if they can’t break him, at least we’ll still get the credit for finding him so this’ll all have been worth something.”

After a minute, Mom agrees. “Maybe we can even find a way to let him escape. He’ll kill all the other scientists while we sneak out the back. Then we’ll definitely get all the credit.”

They start laughing like supervillains, sending chills up my spine. They’re talking about tricking Nick into murdering people like it’s a game they’re winning. I go back up to my room and start planning. I need to get Nick out of here before they do.

By the next day, the only idea I can think of is to just get an ax from the garage and cut the antenna’s cable. The cable’s bolted to the wall and I don’t think I can break the tube or the antenna with the ax, so cutting it’s my best shot. Then he’ll be strong enough to break out on his own and I can replace the broken cable with an unbroken one from the storage closet, so Mom and Dad won’t know I did anything.

When it’s time for me to go to school, I sneak back into the garage to swipe the ax, then I wait by the basement back door for Mom and Dad to leave. But the front door doesn’t open and the cars never start. I’d gotten so used to my parents leaving every day, I didn’t think that they’d stick around. I wait for almost a half-hour before I hear something in the garage. I peek in through the garage window and see Mom and Dad doing something in the back of the van. There are large gas tubes by the basement door. 

They’re going to bring Nick to the main lab today! If he’s asleep then breaking the cable won’t matter. I have to hurry!

My nerves start jangling as I punch in the code for the basement back door. If I do this, there’s no way that I’d get away with it. Mom and Dad will be furious and I don’t know what they’ll do to me. I hesitate, but then I remember what Nick told me. Being brave and kind even when it was hard made the world a little better. I just need to be really brave.

“I can do this. I’m coming, Nick!”

I burst through the door just as Mom and Dad come in through the garage. I go straight for the cable and swing the ax. Either the cable’s too tough, the ax is too blunt, or I’m too weak because the first hit isn’t enough. Mom and Dad drop the tubes and run for me.

“Dolores, what the hell are you doing?”

“Put that ax down and step away!”

“No, you get away!” I shout, brandishing the ax. I don’t know if I’d be able to actually use it on my own parents, but I had to keep them away. “I’m helping Nick get out of here! And you can’t stop me!”

“Nick? Dolores, this thing is–” Mom pauses and realizes something. “You’ve been feeding him, haven’t you?” 

“Dolores, this creature is tricking you,” Dad says, inching closer. “He’s manipulating your mind.  The scrambler stops him but not at close range. Whatever he told you, he’s just trying to get out.”

“And once he gets out, he’ll hurt you and everyone else,” Mom adds, also tiptoeing forward. “Sweetheart, trust us. We’re your parents.”

Could they be right? They seemed to think that he’d kill the other scientists and there are many stories of Yetis becoming very violent. But Mom and Dad were willing to kill people, too. So which one do I trust? I look at Nick, but he doesn’t say anything. He just looks back at me and waits for me to make a decision. As Mom and Dad lunge, I make it.

Again I swing the ax and again the cable doesn’t break. Mom grabs me around the waist and Dad wrestles the ax from my hands. I failed. I tried to do the right thing and I failed. Now they’re going to take Nick to the lab and starve him all over again until they can kill him.

“Dolores, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but this is for everyone’s good!” Mom shouts as I try to get free.

“‘Everyone’s good’? How nice of you!” Nick booms, louder than I’d ever heard him. We all stop struggling and look at his tube and the rapidly growing Yeti inside. “And I thought you were just interested in your own good. I’ll have to update my list.” 

Nick’s flabby body quickly fills with muscle, but mostly fat. His bony ape-like face plumps out to a warm, friendly, bearded human appearance. He shoves out his arms and the glass tube shatters in a burst of frigid wind. Mom covers me with her body as frosted shards of glass rain down. 

I hear Nick’s footsteps as he makes his way over to one of the cabinets, but I barely notice. Those missing pieces that I’ve been rediscovering suddenly come back in full force. They feel like gingerbread and peppermint and snowmen. I can feel wrapping paper tearing in my hands and see evergreen trees filled with lights and hear hoofbeats landing in the snow. I don’t think I forgot any of this, really, I just couldn’t…feel it. But now it’s all back and when I pull myself away from Mom, I can completely see who’s pulling on the big red coat from inside the cabinet.

“Santa?”

Nick looks at me with a twinkle in his eye. Mom steps in front of me and Dad holds up the ax, but Santa Claus just smiles and holds out his hand. He squeezes his fist like he’s crushing a can and then something cracks loudly behind us. We turn and see the antenna lying broken and frosted on the ground.

“Kindness, bravery, and the faith that it will all be worth it in the end,” Santa says. “That’s what I give to the world and that’s what I receive in return. Especially at this time of year. But that scrambler stopped it from reaching me.” He takes a deep breath like a man who almost drowned and his body and beard fill out even more. The twinkle in his eye grew as he looked directly at me. “But you, my sweet Lolo, were willing to stand up to your parents to do what you knew was right. You have my thanks.” Then his eyes and voice turn icy as he turns his gaze to Mom and Dad. “You two will have my boot in your—”

“Santa, wait!” I shout. My parents cringe back a bit, but still try to put themselves in between me and him. “Please, don’t hurt my parents. It wasn’t their fault. The scrambler stopped them from feeling your kindness and stuff. You said so yourself.”

“They set the scrambler up, dear,” Santa says gently. “And someone has to pay for the three months I spent in that tube. You think I want to explain to Mrs. Claus how I disappeared on our vacation?”

“It wasn’t personal,” Dad rasps, clenching the ax so tightly his knuckles are bone-white. “We got a tip about the resort, but we didn’t know it’d be you until—” Dad’s words catch in his throat and nothing but white frost comes out of his mouth.

“I’ll be having a talk with Krampus about his pranks, believe me,” Santa says sternly. “As for the two of you… I suppose I can’t leave your little girl orphaned. She doesn’t deserve that.” He scratches his beard for a second. Then he gets another twinkle in his eye, a darker one. “How do you two feel about working off your debt?”

That was a week ago. Christmas break starts tomorrow and Nick (he still wants me to call him that) says I can stay at the mountain resort he and Mrs. Claus go to every summer until school starts again. Mrs. Buchannon tried to make this week as fun and educational as possible to make up for the last few months, but I think a few weeks off will do everyone some good.

I see a few scant decorations on my way home as people suddenly start caring about Christmas again. I can smell gingerbread and hear a few Christmas songs and just feel the holiday spirit in the air. I think by New Years, everything will be back to normal.

When I get home, Miss Judy, the elf Nick sends over some days, has made me some cookies to eat as we wait for Santa to come pick me up for the resort.

“Do you think Mr. Nick would let me visit the North Pole?” I ask Miss Judy. I’m careful not to mention Dad, since I’m sure she and all the other elves are still mad at him, but she sees through me.

“Don’t worry about your father, dear,” she says with just a hint of wickedness. “The other elves will be sure he has plenty of work to do in the factory. Ah, here comes your mother and Mr. Claus now.”

In a flurry of snow, a sleigh towed by a team of reindeer lands in my backyard. I’m not sure which one is Mom, so I say hi to all of them as I run to Nick for a hug.

“I know Christmas without your parents will be a little rough, Lolo,” Nick says as we take off. One of the reindeer moos irritably but doesn’t break ranks. “But don’t worry. Mrs. Claus will be at the resort if you need anything and I’ll swing by on Christmas. And maybe your parents, too, if they’ve worked hard enough.”

“I’m not worried, Nick,” I say, trying to be brave. It’s a little scary and I know Mom and Dad have a lot of hard work to do making up for the next few Christmases they almost ruined, but I know it’ll be worth it in the end.

[dinodinodin0]

me, myself, and I

part five of the other woman series.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: angst series, fem! reader

part one part two part two part four

it had been a while since you last blew off Eddie and Chrissy, about two months now. You walked to school and back alone now, slowly getting used to the burn in your calves. you sat alone at lunch, and you were mostly alone throughout the day. you didn't mind. you'd rather be alone than with people who play with your feelings, right?

right..?

you tried to avoid them whenever you could. averting your eyes. slightly turning your back towards them when you were in close vicinity. you knew their schedules, so you knew what routes to steer clear of. You tried the best you could, but there'd be moments.

there were times you caught a glance of them. times you couldn't keep your eyes from locking onto eddies, times you could almost smell Chrissy's rose perfume. it was like mourning them, seeing them everywhere. it was torture. and as confident as you were now, you couldn't help to feel lonely. you missed them.

after school, you routinely greeted your mom and went to work at the kitchen table. homework was a slight distraction from whatever feelings you had that day. you'd gotten a lot better at routine and taking care of yourself. before bed, you'd bathe, brush your teeth, wash your face, and admire how pretty you were. focusing on yourself made you realize how much you truly enjoyed your company.

the smell of sweet vanilla coating the air, you attended to your skincare. you loved doting on yourself, but it felt… off. maybe the comfort of routine bored you? was your brain more used to chaos? was that why you missed them? had you missed the drama, the intense feelings, or…

you glanced at the mirror. you never took off the pictures of all of you. you told yourself you'd get back to doing it one day, but you never did. who were you kidding?

you weren't over either of them.

you missed your best friends. you missed doodling on Chrissy's homework, missed braiding her hair when you sat behind her in class. you missed cheer practice, and how she was the only one who stood by your side in the entire team.

now cheer practice was almost like limbo. you existed, you thought. but everyone looked through you. even Chris.

Eddie only picked up Chris now.

you missed Eddie. you missed how he smelt, like weed and cigarettes. not a particularly good smell on its own, but like Pavlov's dog, you conditioned yourself to think of him whenever you smelt it. which, given the circumstance, was hell. this school is full of weed-and-cigs smell.

you missed him caressing your hair when you two cuddled, relaxing and watching The Dark Chrystal. you missed him making fun of you for loving the Muppets still, memories of the messy 70s show still nostalgic and sweet to you. he had teased you, but you two would watch whatever episodes your mom recorded whenever you asked.

you miss how he used to look at you.

so much love in his eyes, though oblivious to the type. it was so gentle and fond, it was comforting.

his eyes were sad now. they darted everywhere when they caught yours, but you could feel them burning holes through you when you refuted eye contact.

did he miss you too?

did Chrissy?

maybe you should call her.

no. she knows what she did. right?

ughhhhh.

goddamnit.

although it was almost 11:00 at night, you rang her. it rang for minutes, with no pickup.

maybe this was a sign. maybe she doesn't want anything to do with you.

you'd try again in the morning.

you swatted at your alarm, groaning at the loud noise disturbing your two hours of sleep. you'd been so anxious about calling Chrissy that you couldn't sleep, worried she'd cuss you out or something of the sort when you tried again. what time was it?

7:00 am on a Saturday. shed probably be awake by now.

you trotted down the stairs, anxiously picked up the phone, and pressed it to your ear. your fingers hovered over the keypads, barely touching the engrained numbers.

this was a good idea. was this a good idea? maybe it wasn't.

fuck it.

you gulped and pressed in her number. it rang, and rang...

"..hello?"

you swallowed your pride, and greeted her with a broken voice,

"Hey... Chris."

"Y/N?? oh my gosh !! I missed you!!"

"you... you did?"

"yeah! I'm so sorry about the misunderstanding with me and Eddie, I know you were hurt about it, but I was actually there becaus-"

"hold on Chris, I want to ask both of you about that if I can. have a discussion in person?"

you chuckled. you were surprised she was so pleasant towards you, given the most contact you had initiated with her for two months was side-eyes.

"Okay okay, do you know when you want to?" she said, chipper as ever.

"do y'mind if you tell Eddie, and we can walk to his house together? I'll meet you at your door in an hour if that's okay," apparently, the anxiety you had before dialing her had returned. the thought of meeting up with both of them was nerve-wracking, especially Eddie. he was the one who was attempting to explain anyway, and you shot him down.

"yah, of course! ill call him up now, see you in an hour"

"yep, see you."

oh godddd. this. this is the worst. again. somehow it was worse.

you knew you needed to make it up to them, or if your suspicions were correct, at least you'd know. they needed a space to defend themselves, and you missed them.

you brushed your hair, making sure no strand was in the wrong place. you picked out nicer clothes, and you almost felt as if you were getting dressed for a job interview. 

after 30 minutes of psyching yourself up, you slipped on your tennis shoes. it'd be a long walk to Chrissy's, but in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten just how far she lived from you. opening the door and breathing in the fresh air, you open your eyes to a van in your driveway.

Eddie? 

"hey, doll. Chris told me you were going to walk to her house, so I'm picking you up."

Chrissy peaked out from the backseat window, waving at you and grinning.

Your breath hitched, and you crept over.

"Hey, it's okay. I know you're probably nervous to be around me again, but you're all good, promise," he pats the seat next to him, intending for you to sit shotgun.

you hadn't sat shotgun in a long time.

A/N: omg yall. i am so sorry. i have not posted in a month, and i appreciate all of you for engaging with my work still. youre all angels <3

Tag list:

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[lance-space-mommy]

F***ing Chair

Izuku was best friends with his guidance counselor. Inko knew about Izuku’s mental health and Izuku had no problem speaking his mind. Izuku had been hospitalized on a number of occasions because he told Inko. The guidance counselor was aware of Izuku being open with his mom which lowered the stress of betraying Izuku’s trust.

Izuku was incredibly depressed and struggled to cope with the bullying. Being able to wear a facade all day was exhausting as well. It was nice to walk into the counselor’s office and vent. While Izuku was open, he did hide it around his mother. He didn’t want her to worry more than she already was. Seeing the school counselor was the only option considering therapy was far too expensive.

Izuku had Major Depressive Disorder, Social Phobia, Attention Deficit Disorder, and was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder more and more with every encounter of bullying he endured. It was clear the physical and mental abuse he received day in and day out didn’t help. There was no escape when he came home. Cyberbullying was just as severe.

During lunch, milk had been pored all over Izuku. Much to everyones shock, Izuku slammed his book shut and stormed out of the cafeteria. Katsuki scowled, irritated by Izuku’s dramatic reaction. The brown haired bully jumped, not expecting the retaliation. The other bully watched him leave, bewhildered before smirking.

“Let’s get him while he’s in the locker room!”

Katsuki didn’t have a problem with it, wanting to put Izuku back in his place. The other bully tagged along, lauging about how he was going to mock Izuku. They chased after him.

When Izuku’s three bullies spotted him down the hall, his shoulders were tensed, a milk trail following him. His book bag was in one hand and his notebook in the other. There was something about the aura he was radiating that made them uneasy. Midoriya stormed right up to the guidance counselor’s office, threw open the door and let it out.

“Do you know how much I want to fucking pick up a fucking chair and smash it across their fucking face?”

Katsuki stopped in his tracks, eyes wide in surprise. That went straight to his dick.

“Shit. Izuku’s told on us?” whispered the long-finger bully.

“That’s what you’re worried about? He sounds like he wants to kill us,” exasperated the brown haired bully.

Katsuki had more concerns than that. In that split second, he came to the realization he knew nothing about Izuku. He didn’t know Izuku cursed. He never would’ve guessed Izuku got angry. Katsuki wondered if Izuku already was telling the adults at school, was he telling Inko? In a matter of seconds, he realized his entire future lies in Izuku’s hands. Something about that made him oddly hot, feeling flustered by the information.

The guidance counselor didn’t even sound surprised by his outburst. “Oh I know you do. Thankfully you didn’t do it.”

Izuku took a sharp breath before slamming the door behind him. The building shook from the force of the slam, causing the three to share a stunned look. They all crept to the door to listen, needing to know more.

“I’m leaving my stuff here. I’m going to the showers and I’ll be back. I’m skipping next period,” informed Izuku. His tone was sharp, unsteady, and clearly still holding a lot of rage.

The counselor shook her head, fixing her notebook’s position on the desk. “Very well. I’ll try and dry off your things while you clean up.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem kid.”

The bullies booked it to a janitors closet down the hall to avoid getting caught. Izuku came out a couple seconds later, fingers flying on the keypads on his phone. When he disappeared down the hall, the group chose to part their separate ways and head to class.

Katsuki sat at his desk with a scowl. He was frustrated by his feelings. As much as he wanted to hate Midoriya and unleash his rage to make up for extreme weakness he was feeling, he truly didn’t want to. There was some deep fondness resonating within him. He was terrified and that excited him.

Izuku reappeared a period later with a drained expression. His hair was dry, his clothes were completely changed, and his bag and notebook looked perfectly fine. While the trio were mad their stunt didn’t leave any long lasting damage, they were glad their actions didn’t cause him to be so pissed off that he’d kill them.

None of the idiots wanted to be hit in the fucking face by a fucking chair.

[mizunetzu]

heyo 👉🏻👈🏻

you asked for a drabble, so

if you’re not busy, could you maybe write something for bokuto with a male classmate who always helps him with homework and always brings him food you know, but one time he gets sick and bokuto misses him so badly and understands how he’s latched onto him so he spams him with messages in the evening, and they text the whole evening and night and bokuto ends up confessing him through messages 🥺

just some fluffy texting drabble 👉🏻👈🏻 thank you very much, but please don’t force yourself 🤍 have a good day

OF COURSE MR SEPHI GOOD LUCK TOMORROW BTW DO UR BEST!!!!!

This drabble was so bad KWNDJWKD but I THINK ITS CUTE??? ENOUGH?? LWMEKWKD

——————

Drabble - Bokuto x sick!reader

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

‘HEY’

No response.

Bokuto pouted, and looked up from his phone he was hiding in his lap, to the empty seat two rows in front of him. Usually, (Y/n) would be sitting there absorbing whatever the teacher was saying, so he could explain it in a much simpler matter during lunch, but he was nowhere to be found. Bokuto looked back down to his phone.

‘HEYEHEYEYHEYHYWHYHEY’

‘HEYYYYY :(((‘

‘WHERE R U :,((‘

‘༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽’

Bokuto sighed. With the way his neck was craned down, looking at his lap with a depressing frown, it was probably obvious he was on his phone when he shouldn’t have been. He just hoped the teacher wouldn’t take away his phone before (Y/n) had a chance to respond.

Just as he was about to thunk his head on the desk, a small thought bubble with three flashing dots appeared at the corner of Bokuto’s phone screen. His eyes noticeably lit up, as he tried to contain his excitement.

‘You always pick the ugliest emoticons, Bo’

Bokuto smiled at the loving insult. He typed at his screen hurriedly. With the expense of typing too fast for autocorrect to fix his typos, Bokuto pressed send at the speed of light. Where was his friend today?

‘WHY ARENY U IN CLASD RN WHERE R U’

‘Bo, I’m sick.’

‘OH’

Bokuto guiltily typed. He was about to type out a ‘SORRY :((‘, but decided against it. The teacher was looking in his direction, anyways.

——

‘ARE U ONKAY ARE U FEELINF BETTER’

Bokuto rolled around in his bed until he was on his stomach. The three little thinking dots appeared on his screen in less than a second, followed by a:

‘I’m doing better. Idk if I’ll be back at school tomorrow tho :(‘

Bokuto’s mood dropped. It was hard enough not seeing what goodies his friend brought him for lunch today, or not knowing what the fuck was going on in class because (Y/n) wasn’t there to help him, hell it was hard just not seeing his face today. But for another day?

‘GO TAKE MEDICINE RN’

‘I did smh I still feel sick Bo’

‘DID U TAKE ENOUGH THO’

‘GO DRINK WATER WATER IS IMPROTANT’

‘R U SURE U STILL FEESL SICK U TOOK MEDICINE RIGTH’

‘R U OK NOW :(’

‘(Y/NNNN)’

Bokuto didn’t care that he was spamming. He didn’t even care that he was misspelling everything he typed. But he didn’t really notice why he felt that way until he found himself typing:

‘(Y/N) I MISSED YOU SO MUC| ’

His fingers froze on his phone’s keypad. The blue cursor flashed at the end of ‘MUC’, waiting for him to finish his text and press ‘send’.

He lay there in the dark of his room, silent, staring at his screen; until he backspaced everything he typed, and replaced it with:

‘I love you’

And pressed ‘send’.

——————

[hrwinter]

Lena placing a pair of glasses on a pillow and making out with it pretending it’s Kara

Lena’s not always this drunk. Well. Lena hasn’t historically imbibed this much after the age of 26, but her mother’s been arrested and her best friend is a liar, so what else is there to do other than look for an answer at the bottom of a very large bottle of scotch.

She’s been to three upscale bars and restaurants with Andrea, both of them reverting to their messy boarding school days almost instantaneously after the third glass, giggling in the corner and overtly hitting on men and women by sending them pretentious $24 cocktails.

But there’s still a dark streak in all the buffoonery. Lena can’t stop searching for blue eyes on the face of every blonde or broad shoulders under the lapels of every Armani jacket. She hates herself for it. And she hates Kara Danvers. Or Kara Zor-El, whatever the fuck.

Lena is pissed.

She takes another moody sip of scotch while some stock broker continues to shoot his shot (why do they all talk the same? why do they all feel the need to explain how money works to her, a billionaire?) and Andrea’s laughing and laughing at a woman far too loudly, her finger tips sloshing the edge of a martini she absolutely doesn’t need. While the man goes on about blue chip stocks, earnings per share, dividends (kill her), Lena’s eyeing the restroom.

No one would miss her if she ducked out. She could have a car here in minutes. Hell, Andrea would probably appreciate the attention of both parties at the same time. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d finagled a twosome into a threesome.

But that means going home. It means gazing at the dark sky from the cold enclave of her penthouse balcony. It means seeing the downturned photo frame, glass smashed, but still not thrown away.

God damn Kara. She stays.

She doesn’t go home with the man, and Andrea doesn’t go home with the woman. They don’t all go home together. But she and Andrea do go to another bar, and after that, an after hours bar. Then, by some misfortune of a higher power, they end up at a bratwurst stand at 4 AM with a horde of college kids. College children.

“Someone threw up just there,” Lena points at the pavement.

“Oh, don’t be such a snob!” Andrea shrieks into the night, grasping at Lena’s elbow and toying with a necklace Lena knows to cost more than a tricked out Vespa. Lena may be glassy-eyed, there may even be two of Andrea, but she can still spot irony.

“I’m starving. And I haven’t had one of these in yeaaarrrsss,” Andrea elongates as they move up a few paces in line. “Remember when we’d sneak into town and grift old men for drinks? That hot dog stand just outside of Hawthorne’s? I’ve been desperate for one.”

Lena wants to complain more, but it does smell good. And by the time they have bratwursts fisted in hand and are leaning against a nearby brick wall with the rest of the infants, Lena’s not feeling all that bad. It might be the best thing she’s ever tasted in her life. God, this might be the best she’s ever felt in her life. Numb, blitzed out of her mind, somewhere closer to nineteen sheets to the wind than three, she’s no longer a Luthor, no longer a simpering fool to a Super’s lies, not a CEO or a disappointment or even a person. She’s just a presence existing on this curb, eating a bratwurst.

“I’m having an out of body experience,” she tells Andrea with half her mouth full and still swallowing.

“That good, huh?” Andrea has mustard on her chin.

“I want another.”

Lena glances up, and her visions tunnels. Her existence is whittled down even further, to its basest instinct. She’s become the singular pursuit of a thousand more calories, of another bratwurst. Lena surges into the street, the stand a beacon of light in the darkness.

But several things happen at once. There’s a screech of tires, the smash of metal, what feels like getting hit with a brick wall and then being shot out of a circus canon.

Lena finds herself throwing up on the pavement on the other side of the road, and Kara fucking Danvers yelling at a motorist. The guy has gotten out of his car, hood dented and engine smoking.

“You smashed my car!”

“You almost hit a woman! You could’ve killed her!”

“She just bolted into the street, that’s not my fault!”

“PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY!” Kara shouts back.

“Hey!” Lena slurs, having regained her dignity by wiping her mouth clean of vomit. It’s called class.

Both the guy and Kara turn to look at her, but her eyes are trained on Kara.

“I don’t need your help,” she tells her with a point of her finger.

This feels very witty. The pinnacle of sass. So what if she’s lost a heel at some point and may have missed a bit of vomit in her hair. She’s the one in control.

The guy’s eyes narrow.

“Are you blind or something? Didn’t your mom teach you to look both ways before you walk into the street?”

At the mention of Lena’s mother, her eyes narrow, she sways dangerously.

“You’re fired.”

“What?” the guy rolls his eyes. “I don’t have time for this.” He whips out his cell phone. “You’ve got insurance right?”

“Um, yeah,” Kara hands him a card, but she’s quick to come to Lena’s side, to place a steadying hand on her shoulder. Lena tries to wiggle away from it like a petulant child.

“Stop it!”

Kara ignores her.

“Lena, I didn’t want to say it around him,” Kara cups a blocking hand over her mouth and points at the guy so he can’t see.

It’s so adorable and infuriating.

She stage whispers, “But you were jaywalking! And you could’ve been hit by a car. What’re you even doing out here?”

Lena rolls her eyes so hard, she might’ve just incurred permanent damage.

“I’m an adult, Supergirl, and I don’t need an escort--”

Lena’s very mature tirade is interrupted by Andrea crossing the street, mouth still wide open and staring. The look she’s giving Kara is distinctly not platonic, and the look she’s giving Lena is one of deepest intrigue. Her eyes scan the pair of them, their body language, the way Kara’s hand is still on Lena’s shoulder (hadn’t she shaken that off?), and smirks.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Lena could kill her.

“Be quiet, Drea!”

Andrea dissolves into snorts, and Kara glances between the two of them, a look of recognition passing over her face. Now Lena wants to hurl herself into traffic for real.

Kara opens her mouth to speak, but Lena waves a hand in front of her nose.

“Just--everyone shut up and take me home.”

And the route Lena wants to be taken home is clear when she swats at Kara’s (firm) bicep (to push her away, of course), and that swat accidentally turns into a posessive squeeze.

“Oh, can I come, too?” Andrea purrs, and Kara’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“No!” Lena barks at her.

“Fine, fine! Call me tomorrow!” Andrea waves, and like some sort of rich superpower, she’s already getting into the back of a sleek black car.

“Okay, Lena,” Kara hushes against her head. It’s too soft and caring, and Lena wants to push her away. But she doesn’t. (Mainly because standing is feeling like quite a complex task, and she doesn’t have the balance for it.)

“This’ll only take a second.” 

Then, Lena’s wrapped in a warm and solid embrace. It’s nice... before everything blurs, and she has the distinct desire to vomit again.

She never wants another bratwurst.

In the very next moment, she’s being gingerly placed on her balcony, and Lena’s surging out of Kara’s grasp and pressing her face against the cold glass of her balcony sliding door. It feels amazing, calming her stomach down by degrees.

“What’re you doing?”

“Oh,” Lena says. Maybe she’d been doing that for a bit too long.

She runs her hands over the glass in an attempt to open the door, heavily petting various keypads and biometric scanners. Nothing happens. She scratches at the glass like a raccoon desperate to be inside.

“Um, isn’t it over there?” Kara indicates a different keypad to the left.

“I don’t need your help!” Lena shouts before following her instructions exactly. The door opens. She grumbles inside.

Unaware and uncaring, Lena starts undressing in her living room the very moment she’s crossed the threshhold, discarding her shirt, her skirt this way and that. There’s a gasp behind her and another suspicious super speeding sound, but she ignores Kara. She paces into her bedroom to strip off her bra and grab an oversized shirt. After, she spread eagles on her bed.

“I, um, brought you a glass of water.”

Lena cracks an eye open, takes in the sight of Kara standing at her bedside, nervous and uncertain, glass of water extended between them like some sort of peace offering.

She groans loudly and sits up to snatch it from her, water sloshing onto her bare legs. She doesn’t register it, draining it dry, glaring at Kara over the edge of the glass the entire time.

The Super pulls at her fingers.

“What’re you doing here?” Lena rasps, rolling the empty glass onto her exquisite and overpriced comforter.

“You were in trouble, Lena.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“Yes, I do.”

Lena scoffs, completely undignified, a sound appropriate for an elementary school playground. She does it again because it feels good. Kara’s eyebrows pinch.

Lena swivels at the waist and plucks her reading glasses off her bedside table. She places them over one of her giant, California King-sized pillows.

“Oh, Kara, there you are!” she says, squeezing it’s sides together like she’s cupping its cheeks. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you in a pair of glasses!”

Kara’s brows furrow deeper, not amused.

“How did I not see that the kindness, the sincerity, the insistence that I was not just another Luthor was a total act!” she continues to talk to it.

“It wasn’t an act--”

Lena brings the pillow close in her arms.

“Stopping by to bring me lunch, complimentary puff pieces, spin class, game nights. You’re so sweeeeeet,” she elongates, squeezing the pillow tight. “And beautiful. You know what you deserve? A kiss.”

Surely, this bit has spiraled out of Lena’s control. This entire night has. And were she sober enough to realize it, she’d catch herself before this next part. But she’s not and she’s wasted. And this pillow is the Kara she used to know, the Kara Lena used to pine for unconditionally, fantasizing what it might be like to just, lean over and...

She loses her balance as she places a wet one just under the glasses of her pillowcase and falls over on top of it. Incidentally, it’s the perfect size for snuggling, just like Kara herself, and her eyes flutter closed, warm and content.

“I’ll--I’ll go,” she hears a voice say.

“Kara?” Lena mumbles, face down in her pillow and not long for this world.

“Yeah?”

“I lo--I mean, I hate you.”

Kara sighs.

“I love you too, Lena.”

[stressy-enby]

Some Scars aren’t Physical: PART 1

Iida x GN! Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Past abusive relationship (gaslighting, possessiveness, yelling), slight panic attack, swearing

Summery: (Y/N) had a terrible boyfriend in middle school. He was possessive, manipulative, and just plain awful. Since breaking up with Him, (Y/N)’s had pretty bad relationship anxiety. It’s so bad, that it makes them afraid to pursue their new crush: the kind, earnest class rep, Tenya Iida.

Link to Part 2 

Masterlist

. . .

It only takes one bad experience to ruin something forever.

Take dating, for instance.

You hadn’t had many friends in middle school. You had Izuku, your friend since elementary school, and the people who sat next to you in class who occasionally talked to you. That was about it, but it never mattered. You were still happy.

Then there was Him.

He had been kind. Flattering. He laughed at your jokes and told you His own. You had been happier than you had ever been when you started dating. You spent long nights on the phone with Him, trying to smother your giddy laughter so not to wake the rest of your house. Then you spent hours recounting every moment of the conversation to Izuku, who always rolled his eyes playfully, remarking “As long as you’re happy, (Y/N).”

Then He changed.

It was a gradual shift. You didn’t even realize that something wasn’t right until a month or so into the relationship. It started with Izuku, funnily enough. He didn’t like how close you were with him. You had tried to calmly explain to Him that you were just friends, and had been friends for several years. He wouldn’t have it, though. He never outright asked you to stop spending time with Izuku, but He made it very clear that He didn’t approve of your friendship. 

You didn’t want Him to be angry with you. You didn’t cut Izuku out completely, you couldn’t bear to. You did start to avoid him, though.

It didn’t end with Izuku, though. Next it was the classmates you occasionally hung out with. Next it was anyone He didn’t personally know. Next it was anyone if He wasn’t there.

Then there were the arguments. You were frustrated. You told Him that he couldn’t control you like this. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Him. Not when His counterarguments where oh so persuasive.

“Listen, these people don’t really care about you. They’re just going to hurt you. I just want to keep you safe. You trust me, right?”

The hurt look on His face was enough for you to assure Him that yes, of course you trusted Him. You weren’t sure how honest you were being, though.

Four months.

It took four months of loneliness, and anxiety for you to finally end it. It took four months of Izuku pleading with you to leave Him before you actually did it. 

He wouldn’t go down without a fight, unfortunately. He went down in the end, albeit kicking and screaming. He had raised his voice at our before, but never like this. He had never screamed directly in your face. You’d never cried in front of Him before. You’d been good at hiding it, but the all the pent up anxiety and frustrations you were feeling spilt out when He shrieked at you like that.

He’d been suspended for two weeks. They were over all too fast.

He hardly talked to you when He got back, but you always felt His eyes. They seemed to follow you wherever you went.

Izuku stuck to you like glue. He was a nervous kid, and he never said anything directly to Him, but he was always there, offering you his silent support.

“Do you think you’ll want to date anyone else?” Izuku asked one day.

“No one from our class,” You rolled your eyes, surveying the middle school classroom.

“What about when we get to high school?” 

“I don’t know,” You answered after a moment. “I’d like to be in a good relationship, but…”

Izuku frowned. “But?”

You averted your eyes, feeling His gaze burning a hole in the back of your head. “I thought He seemed good at first. Look how well that went.”

. . . 

High school felt like heaven. It might’ve been grueling, and sure, villains showed up every other week, but He wasn’t there. Izuku was, though, plus you both managed to make a few other friends. 

Iida was one such friend. The first thing you had noticed about him was that he was loud. You had never liked loud people, especially after what had happened with Him, but Iida was never loud to you directly. He was just loud in general.

A few weeks into your friendship with him, and you realized that he was incredibly earnest. He was dependable, and seemed to be one of the kindest, if also intense people you’d ever met.

He was also handsome.

You spent lunch periods staring at Iida’s large hands, wondering what they’d feel like in your own. You laid awake at night, hugging your pillow and pretending it was him. 

One night, as you pictured him holding you, his gentle arms suddenly became tight and constrictive. Suddenly, it wasn’t Iida.

It was Him.

Your breathing became sporadic you threw your pillow onto the floor. You folded in on yourself, rubbing your arms to try to rid yourself of His lingering touch.

“I can’t,” You whimpered. “I can’t,”

You wanted to be with Iida, you really did. But He was still poisoning your mind.

. . .

“(L/N), are you doing anything this weekend?” 

You hummed noncommittally at Iida, who was standing at your desk, waiting for you to pack up to go home.

“I don’t think so.” You shrugged. “What about you?”

“Well, a cafe recently opened near my home, I’m thinking of checking it out.” He said casually, eyes darting away. “Perhaps you’d like to come with me?”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, looking up at the boy. “Uh, yeah! That sounds fun. It’d be nice to spend some time with you outside of school.”

“Yes, I-I thought the same thing.” Iida readjusted his glasses, a pink dusting forming on his cheeks. “Is Saturday alright with you?”

About twenty minutes later, when you and Izuku were walking home from the train station, he asked if you wanted to do anything over the weekend.

“On Sunday, maybe.” You kicked an acorn along the sidewalk. “Iida and I are going out on Saturday.”

“Woah, really? Like on a date?”

“I- I don’t- what?” You froze. You replayed the conversation with Iida in your head. “Is it a date? Shit. I can’t go on a date.”

“Why not?” Izuku furrowed his brows in concern. “Iida’s really nice, I think you’d be happy with him. You’d have a good time.”

“Yeah, well we thought I’d be happy with Him too,”

Izuku flinched, understanding flashing in his eyes. “Okay. (Y/N), Iida is lightyears better than Him. Iida’s a super serious guy, but that makes him transparent. If he had ulterior motives, or even if he just seemed like he’d be a dick, you’d know it. Iida isn’t Him. At least go out with him this one time.”

“But I-”

“It’s one date, not marriage.” Izuku reasoned, placing a hand on your shoulder. “There are no obligations. Go out with him. If it goes well, then great! You can do it again, or, don’t. If it goes poorly, then end it there. You don’t have to tie yourself to Iida just because he’s showing interest in you.”

You raised a pointed eyebrow. “What if I’m not interested in him?”

“(Y/N).” Izuku deadpanned. “You and I both know that you are.”

You snickered a little, the sound coming out breathy and broken. “Ok. One date. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

. . .

Izuku knew you and Iida had it bad for each other. The staring longingly when the other wasn’t looking, the flustered laughing, all the goddamn blushing, there was a lot. It was torture watching you both dance around each other, but he knew it wasn’t easy for you. He had left his mark on you, even if it wasn’t a physical one. 

Izuku wasn’t exactly thrilled to push you right back into dating when you obviously were uncomfortable, despite knowing that Iida could be a healing presence in your life if you let him. 

So you were going on a date with him. 

“It’s one date, not marriage.” He had said, trying to convince himself as well as you. “There are no obligations.”

Izuku knew Iida. He trusted him with his life, he just wasn’t sure if he trusted him with you. You, the closest thing to a sibling Izuku had ever had. You, who had stayed his friend even after you had manifested your quirk and he’d been left quirkless. You, who stayed by his side and defended him against Kacchan and his other middle school bullies. 

You, who had been hurt before by someone you had liked.

Izuku groaned, flopping onto his bed. “Iida isn’t Him. Iida isn’t Him. He’s not going to hurt (Y/N). They’re going to be fine.”

It still didn’t stop him from constantly checking his phone, to see if you’d messaged him. Today was your date. He check the time again. 3:21. You should be home by now, or at least on the way. He’d told you to text him when you were home and tell him all about the date, but you might’ve forgotten. Maybe he should text your parents?

No. He was your best friend, not your father. He’d wait to see if you contacted him. If you didn’t, no big deal. He’d see you on Monday at school. Izuku very deliberately placed his phone face down on his bedside table. Deciding to go for a jog to get his mind off it, he began to change into his workout clothes.

Not two minutes later, his phone buzzed. Halfway into his gym shorts, Izuku scrambled back to the table, tripping over his own feet and hitting his head squarely on the bed frame. 

“Shit!” He hissed, rubbing his forehead.

“Izuku?” His mother called. “Is everything all right in there?”

“Yeah, I just tripped. I’m okay.” He replied, feeling around for his phone with the hand not cradling his head. Much to Izuku’s disappointment, the text wasn’t from you.

Much to his surprise though, it was from Iida.

Iida: Is (L/N) afraid of me?

“Uh oh,” He murmured, fingers already flying across the keypad.

Izuku: wdym? Did something happen during your date?

Iida: Kind of? It went well, but (L/N) seemed really nervous.

Izuku: And you weren’t? Lol, it’s your first date

Iida: Well, yes of course I was nervous. (L/N) seems more nervous then would be ordinary in that situation, though.

Izuku: What exactly did they do?

Iida: They were very overly jittery. They looked apprehensive and guilty whenever we talked. At one point I put my hand on their arm and they flinched. 

“Oh shit,” Izuku whispered. Iida wasn’t done, though.

Iida: The night ended well enough, I suppose. They seemed to have a good time, it just looked like they were too frightened to enjoy it to the full extent, though.

Izuku: You didn’t do anything weird, did you?

Iida: Weird how? All I did was talk to them. I offered to pay for their food, but they declined. I touched their arm, but once they flinched away I didn’t try again. We walked back to the train station together, and I offered to accompany them home, but they shot me down again.

Izuku sighed, rubbing his throbbing temples. It was a delicate situation. It wasn’t really Izuku’s place to tell Iida your business. So how was he going to tell Iida that you had relationship trauma without actually telling him?

Izuku: Ok, I don’t think you did anything wrong. (Y/N) gets nervous at the idea of dating, but I promise it’s not you. They’ve had bad experiences with dating, but they seem to really like you and want to try again.

Izuku: (Y/N)’s story isn’t mine to tell. If they feel comfortable giving you all the details, then they will. All you need to know for now is that their anxiety isn’t your fault. It also doesn’t mean that they don’t like you because I don’t think I’ve ever seen them as happy with someone as they are with you  

Iida: I see. Their behavior makes a little more sense now. Thank you for telling me, Midoriya. I’d like to have a relationship with them, so on Monday I’ll talk to them and see if there’s anything I can do or stop doing to make them more comfortable. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am when I’m with them either, in all honesty. I would hate to loose them over a misunderstanding.

Izuku chuckled, smiling warmly at his device. “What was I ever worried about?”

[imagine-loki]

Can you Keep A Secret

TITLE: Can you keep it a secret?  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 of 4

AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working with Loki in some way but you keep your distance because you have a massive crush on him and you tend to always embarrass yourself. Alas you find yourself in need of his help as you need his magic and he’s the only one for the job.

  All the incubators in the lab make it feel like a sauna today, with so many new species needing direct heat, we’ve had to give them their own room. All my specimens look healthy and well after yesterdays’ sampling and I record their status on my iPad. After working by myself for half an hour I make the easy decision to take my jumper off before I start to sweat. As I start to wiggle out of it by easing it over my head, my shirt begins to rise with it and I make that awkward wiggle to try and magically make my shirt fall down without putting my arms back down. Whilst in the midst of my struggle I can hear the keypad being used to unlock the lab door and instinctively I throw myself to my knees to hide as my shirt has risen over my bra. Instant regret. I quickly correct myself on the ground as I hear Dr Banner and another botanist talking idly. The side of my abdomen stings viciously in warning as the material of my shirt goes back over it. I quickly flip it up again to inspect a small scratch now etched over my ribs, ending just under my bra. I hiss quietly in annoyance at my own stupidity as I stand calmly to inspect what I could have scratched myself on.   Dr Banner greets me in surprise, obviously questioning what I am doing on the ground.

“Good morning.” I give them both a greeting smile, “I just dropped my jumper.” I wave it at them as proof and they go back to their conversation whilst I look at the plant specimens in front of me. This odd, black looking orchidaceous plant looks awfully ominous with its long bristly thorns of an olive green hue. It must have been the culprit as none of its neighbours have any type of protruding bristles. With a slight panic spiking in my veins I try to examine it’s ID card but it’s information is mostly blank as it hasn’t begun rigours testing yet. Shit! What if it’s poisonous. Surely it would be in a covered incubator if it was known to be poisonous and over in lab 2 with the others.  I try not to act concerned as I question if the other two know anything about it and the other botanist, Swanson? I think. Says that the whole table is due for testing today by his team. I just nod in acknowledgment and calmly exit the lab. I mean, I feel okay, right? I don’t feel faint and or woozy.  I canter off to the bathroom after throwing my jumper over my chair; I quickly raise my shirt again in the mirror to get a better look. It’s not that bad … I suppose. The thin red slice is only about six centimetres long and it doesn’t look like there’s anything caught in the wound. Honestly, what an idiot. I can’t believe I was so reckless. If bloody Branson found out he’d have my head and he’d carry on for eternity how right he was about me. Oh the ridicule! He’d have me on desk duty till he dies. No one can know! I’m breaking every safety protocol we have but if I am to die from it so be it. I’d rather die quietly than admit my fault to that grumpy old git. After a quick rendezvous with the first-aid box I should be fine. I’ll just have to spy on the other team later to see if they come with anything concerning on the evil looking sucker. Ugh! I can’t believe I just did that.   As I exit the bathroom mumbling curses at myself, adjusting my skin tight black turtleneck, a wisp of black enters my peripheral and I know that the god of mischief has returned to the floor. His eyes find me as I cross the open bullpen to my desk and I let go of the hem of my shirt and make an effort to make the concern vanish from my face. Draped in a navy Asgardian attire, he is what my high school best friend would call a snack. I briefly notice accents of gold and olive lining the leather but I am quick to advert my eyes and look busy. I suppose he would be a nice distraction from the sting in my side but I needn’t the extra embarrassment on top of my slightly spiked anxiety. I can hear Branson’s old decrepit voice engaging with that sultry sirens call as they wander by my desk but I make myself continue typing on my computer as if my life depends on it. As soon as he’s passed me I can smell his cologne lingering to tease me. Do Asgardians even wear cologne or is that just him? I shake my head, determined not to let my thoughts distract me.   As I continue to work at my desk for the day, every time I stretch and move around I check on the other team working in the lab and notice that pointy little sucker is still out in the open so my panic levels have been low and every time I go to the bathroom I check my side; gently peeling off the large non stick plaster to inspect the fading mark. The redness has reduced so much that I have to strain myself to notice the mark.   I steal glances with the God of Mischief throughout the day as he wanders from station to station. I smile politely whenever our eyes meet and always breakaway first to continue working, which I notice earns me a sly grin after the fifth time. See, I knew that tricky bugger was up to something. I just know he purposefully loves to get under my skin. But I am not giving him the satisfaction of watching me blush today. Two can play at that game. Danny surprises me at lunch by bringing me a latte and childish teasing. He sits on the edge of my desk and immediately notices Loki working in the adjacent Lab in clear view of my desk. Trying to be noticeably subtle he continuously taps my shoulder whilst cooing in excitement like a giddy school girl. I shush him and punch him hard in the leg whilst acting like his antics haven’t phased me. I’ve been doing an amazing job of ignoring his presence all morning, he is not going to trick me into actively swooning now.

“Oh he looking.” Danny murmurs whilst turning his head away, tapping my shoulder again.

“Shut up!” I mutter back as I briefly glare at him in warning before retuning my attention to my computer screen.

“Girl he’s definitely checking you out.” He rearranges himself as he opts for standing behind me and leaning over me like he’s studying what I’m doing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing away from the Lab. “You’re such a trouble maker.” I hiss and jokingly shove him so not to make a big scene. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” I question as I make an excuse to walk out of sight by taking my drink bottle to fill it up. Danny follows, chuckling evilly to himself.

“Yeah but this is more fun.” I threaten to throw water on him. “But seriously, he’s definitely watching you.” I could feel it! But I ain’t playing into Danny’s game.

“Yeah right,” I scoff as I begin back to my desk with Danny in tow, “what for? A good laugh if I stumble?” I take my seat but swivel so I’m facing Danny and away from Loki.

“Well no ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever laughed when you’ve embarrassed yourself.” Danny leans against the empty desk adjacent to mine and I gasp at him with forced hurtfulness.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” I question mockingly and his face grimaces fiercely as he shrugs in agreement.

“Well, either he’s attracted to you or just pities you.” He deduces with his great sleuthing skills. “Which would you prefer?” I scowl so hard at him that he might burst into flames yet his shiteating grin is till carved into his face. I don’t answer, not diving into this ridiculous conversation (not to mention unsafe when he’s so close). With a steady, yet annoyed breath, I exhale loudly before turning back to my computer and turn my concentration up to a hundred and ten percent to block out Loki’s alluring figure in my peripherals.

“I have work to do and if you’ve only come to tease me you can piss off.” I purse my lips together in my best passive resting bitch face before flipping him off. Honestly what an arse – breaking basic friend 101 rules. Don’t joke about the crush in front of the crush.

“So touchy today.” He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before stepping around my desk before I can clock him one. “I’ll see you later.” He teases before leaving and I can feel myself being watched and it is so tempting to look to where that burning urge is coming from but I just know if I make eye contact I’ll blush several noticeable shades. I’ll remain strong, purely out of spite.   I finish all my paper work earlier than expected and manage to send off all my reports just has mid afternoon rolls around. Spite is a good focuser. As I’m scanning through my emails to see if I need to reply to any I get a page from Clint to say that he’s on his way up to check out his new arrow heads. I beam excitedly in remembrance, jumping up from my desk and heading over to Lab 2, where I had been storing them in the cool room at the back of the lab. I had been experimenting and developing  new knockout gasses and combustibles and I thought adapting them to Clint’s arrow heads would be a more challenging task then the standard grenades. Thus far the little project has been a success, they just haven’t had any field time yet.   I notice Loki watching me through his lashes as I swipe into the lab and punch in the code. We’ve already exchanged pleasantries for the day so there’s no need for me to make any form of acknowledgment as I enter. As I enter through the double doors he straightens himself, most likely in expectance that I had entered to speak with him since it’s only he and another botanist in the Lab. But I just walk straight through without a glance which gives me such a surge of power, knowing how  much confusion I was causing him even though his poker face is exceptional. After punching in the security code on the fridge I gently pull out the draw with the arrow tips and remove the tray, taking it with me. I have to make eye contact on my way back since focusing straight ahead would be too obvious and the key is subtlety here if I want to be one up on his intimidating behaviour. My lips curve pleasantly at him but I don’t say anything as I head back to the door. Clint is already at my desk and is glancing around for me. He waves happily when he sees me and opens the door for me so I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he smiles at me and I pass him the tray, “you sure these work?” He questions mockingly.

“Have I ever failed you before?” I coyly quirk my brows in rebuke.

“Want to test them with me?” He nods his head at the door for me to follow him and I do with a skip in my step. I did archery as a child but I got nothing on him. I take my time to relish in the fact that Loki hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I exit through the corridor and I even dare a cheeky, subtly seductive glance over my shoulder just to make sure. Oh it feels good to be bad .. no wonder he loves it.

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Hello again! Now that I know who you write for, I'm back with a request! Can I please suggest Sanji x Reader (if that's okay) with the following summer theme prompt? I'm actually really curious to see your take on Sanji. 😳

“some asshole left their dog in the car in the blistering heat and we both noticed and are debating on what to do” au

Thank you so much for doing this! 🥰

Hi Luxi, and thanks for bringing me my first-ever askbox fic prompt! (the prompt list is here for anyone interested)

The idea for this fic sprung into my head soon as I read the prompt, so I hope you enjoy...

"Dog Days: A Sanji x Reader Fic"

You hadn't even made it halfway to the store when you noticed the dog. Not that it was hard to ignore; the poor mutt surveyed the entire parking lot from the window of a jacked-up pickup, and its baleful barks escaped the tiniest crack in the window. The day was hot enough that you were sweltering soon as you stepped outside; you couldn't imagine how bad it must be for a fuzzy dog, much less one trapped in a truck.

Soon as you heard the mutt, all plans derailed. You couldn't just leave it there, and who knew how long the owner might be gone? You racked your brain for a plan, but you had to think fast. The dog's whimpers were already getting weaker.

When you strode up to the car, someone else had the same idea. A tall blond strode up to the opposite side of the truck, eyes so narrowed they looked about to shoot lasers. The truck was large enough that it had running boards to reach the doors, but he hopped right up with a water bottle. The dog shuffled over at the sight of a human, and as the stranger dripped cool water through the crack in the windows, the dog eagerly lapped it up. Its tail still barely wagged, even that exertion too much in this heat.

"This dog can't stay in here," you said as you stared at the locks. The truck didn't have a keypad, thank goodness...and as a matter of fact, it had one of those manual locks on the inside, the sort you pulled up to unlock the car. Which would've been perfect if you weren't wearing sandals. "Hey. Weird question, but are you wearing shoes with laces right now?"

The blond looked at you through the truck window. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I think I can get the truck open, but I'll need to borrow a shoelace."

You figured the guy would refuse, or at least ask questions as to why you needed his darn shoes. Instead, he hopped down from his side of the truck and ambled over to you. He was a handsome guy, now that you got a good look at him. Tasteful button-down shirt and slacks even in this weather, slick blond hair with bangs that covered half his face in a way that looked more mysterious than old-school emo...the curly eyebrow was a little odd, but in a quirky way. Made him more handsome, in an odd way. Especially when he put one foot up on the running board and unlaced his shoe, sliding the string out and handing it to you with a determined nod.

You formed a small lasso with the shoestring, then slid it into the crack in the window. All you had to do was lower it onto the lock, tighten the loop, and pull.

"You happen to be a master thief or something?" The blond asked, simultaneously curious and impressed.

"Nothing so fancy. I'm just real bad about leaving my keys in my car. Keep an eye out in case the owner comes back, okay?"

The stranger nodded and hopped back onto the running board to peer over the top of the truck. Meanwhile, the mutt inside crawled up to the front seat, curious at this new development. It thankfully seemed smart enough to recognize that it was being saved, and didn't bat at the string. Just a little more, and...there! You tightened the loop and pulled the lock up with a satisfying click.

Three things happened at once.

You pulled the door open.

The mutt leapt into your arms with such force, you fell off the running board.

And the car alarm blared with the fury of a thousand hornets.

You clutched the mutt tight to your chest and prepared to hit the pavement, but you instead fell into a pair of sturdy arms. The wind hit your face as you opened your eyes; the blond was bolting full-tilt through the parking lot with you and the dog in his grasp.

"Where's your car?" He shouted.

"Left it home! I took the bus! Where's your car?"

"I walked!" His shoes slapped against the pavement, and you belatedly realized that the shoestring had been left behind in the chaos, still looped around the lock in the still-open door of the truck. Your imagination ran wild with cops somehow tracking down your prints from the shoestring and chasing you down for kidnapping a dog.

"Are we being chased?" You asked.

"Don't know! Not looking back. But if I ever see this dog's owner, I'm kicking his ass!" The blond took a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with a gaggle of college students. "I'm taking us to my work. There's food and A/C there for the dog, and we can figure out what we're doing from there."

You couldn't think of a better plan, and you wouldn't abandon the mutt at this rate, especially as it licked your face in appreciation. So you nodded and wondered where this bizarre day would take you next.

You'd heard of the Baratie, never had a chance to eat there. Not for lack of funds or interest; it just never came up. So imagine your surprise when you found yourself at the local favorite restaurant before opening, sitting next to a mutt happily lapping up water, the blond stranger humming nearby as he cooked up a meal in the kitchen. Because when he said "get the dog food", he didn't mean ordinary dog chow, but serving up the dog a homemade feast to make up for the ordeal it had just endured.

You had no idea what the dog's name was, or if it had one at all. It had no nametag, just a cheap metal choke-chain you'd swiftly removed. The dog seemed healthy enough, but there were patches in its fur and the scrapes of a rough life outdoors. You decided that, even on the off-chance that someone chased you down for dognapping, you'd refuse to give the mutt up. It deserved a far better home than the one it came from.

Still. "I can't believe I just stole a dog with a random stranger," you said aloud.

"Well then, let's fix that," the blond said as he wandered out with a pair of plates. "I'm Sanji, and here's lunch. Can't be strangers with a name and a meal together, huh?" He set one down in front of the dog, who happily immediately dug into a feast of meat, brown rice, and assorted canine-safe veggies. The other, he set on the table in front of you. You blinked; he'd asked you off-hand questions about your food preferences when you'd arrived, but you hadn't expected him to actually cook for you too.

"I...thank you. And nice to meet you, Sanji." You gave him your name, and his entire face brightened as if it were music to his ears. "Look, this is really sweet, but I don't have a huge amount of cash on hand."

"That's fine. This is on the house, for your heroism and quick-thinking." Sanji took the seat opposite you with a soft smile. "If you hadn't come along, I don't know what I would've done. My only plan was to break the window, but that might've hurt the dog."

You took a bite of your meal. A medley of flavor danced across your tongue. "You know, reasonable folks would've...I dunno, gone inside and had customer service call over the intercom. Or called the cops. Made it someone else's problem."

Sanji shrugged. "Maybe. Think I would've stuck around anyway, saw it through to the end. Had to know if the little guy was alright." There was a softness in Sanji's eye as he looked down at the dog, who chowed down on its meal as if it had never seen food in its life. It was a look of understanding, the sort that came with a history one didn't ask about lightly. Made you curious about this handsome stranger, one who'd drop all plans and leave behind his own shoelaces in order to help someone in need.

You said, "Thank goodness for the unreasonable people of the world, then. Speaking of which...what're we going to do with the dog? I could try to smuggle it into my apartment, but the owners don't allow pets, so I'd have to be careful."

Sanji's gaze flitted up to the ceiling. "My apartment's right over the restaurant. I can keep the dog here."

"Your landlord won't mind?"

"Not if he wants to keep his best chef around. Besides, he's a sucker for underdogs. If the old owner comes back for this little guy, Zeff will toss the guy out by his ears." Sanji winked and turned to the dog. "What do you say, huh? Wanna' stay here with me? Fresh food every day and no choke-chains." The mutt barked in approval, tail wagging at full speed.

Sanji turned to you again. "You're free to visit, if you'd like. I mean, I can't take the dog out during work hours...but like, on breaks, or before we open?"

You smiled at this handsome stranger, with his heart on his sleeve and a sparkle in his eyes. You realize that yes, you'd be more than happy to see him again. "I'd love that. Besides, I'm pretty sure I owe you a new pair of shoelaces..."