#application does not work for the out of pocket money i need to spend on it

[m0tel6mxzzy]

really hate when technology is made the criteria needed to do any sort of work and then the ppl who make it mandatory don’t have any sort of plan for if it goes wrong

[poisedpen]

✒ Planning...for the Neurodivergent!

I think that for most people the term "planning" conjures pictures of perfectly executed layouts and neat, tidy handwriting. While these things are certainly impressive, sometimes it feels like it prioritizes style over function. Journaling, and by extension, planning, does NOT have to be expensive, time consuming, or perfect.

When I first started dipping my toes into the community a few years ago, I got probably two weeks into a proper “bullet journal” before I gave up. My ink smudged, my stickers peeled, and I found that spending hours making the perfect layout was sucking away my limited time.

As a newly diagnosed and treated ADHD-er, I have found some success in a printed planner. All the months, weeks, and days are already laid out for me, and I have the time at work to fill out everything I need.

But what about someone who doesn’t have the luxury of down time at work? What about someone who gets overwhelmed just THINKING about all of the long-term projects and obligations they have on a day-to-day basis? A chronic procrastinator? Someone whose phone’s to-do list is just BURSTING with tasks, but there’s no prioritization?

Introducing…the pocket notebook!

The main objective of this is to find a pocket notebook that is portable, slim, and enjoyable to write on. Field Notes are quite popular among the stationery crowd, but they’re also on the pricey side for only 48 pages. If you have the money and you enjoy them, go for it! But there could very well be something just as perfect for you waiting at the dollar store.

Yeah, it’s small, and therefore may not be the most comfortable thing to write in. However, it’s not truly meant to be a full-blown journal. No– instead of shoving it into an endless to-do list or note on your phone…you are making your idea tangible.

Your phone, and by extension all of its notifications and applications and features, is designed to distract you. By removing all of that and placing a simple, analog tool in front of you…it is, in theory, easier to focus on what matters.

Think of a cool story idea at work? Jot it down. Remember something you need to do on the way home? Birthdays? Events? Goals? Jot it down. There are no rules. If it's important to you, keep it.

The pocket notebook isn’t really intended to be a super-organized or coherent space for your thoughts. It’s a catch-all for things that might slip your mind later. Then, when you get a chance to rest at the end of your day, you can look back and transfer that idea to something a little more organized. This can be a more structured planner, a journal, a story document, a discord chat, etc.

But hey…maybe that’s still not your cup of tea. You don’t have the time to sit down and reflect on your day. You don’t want to have to organize everything into neat little boxes. It’s just a concept at this point, but…I might have something for you.

✒ MY PSEUDO-PLANNER METHOD

This is in part adapted from other methods I’ve seen people use, but specifically made with my partner’s struggles in mind. He has been using his phone’s default to-do list to write down tasks, but by doing so other things get pushed to the bottom. There’s no real way to “prioritize” them, and after years of using this system there were simply so many that he didn’t know where to start.

So, after a little bit of nudging, I had my partner write down every single thing in his phone’s notes and to-do list in the front of his pocket notebook. Since he struggles with prioritization, I went ahead and did the following steps for him. (If you struggle with this and have a friend, partner, or family member willing to do the same thing, definitely use them as a resource!)

✒ STEP-BY-STEP PROCESS

I chose three things my partner NEEDED to get done before a certain deadline (In this case, seeing his parents for Thanksgiving).

I transferred them to a clean page and wrote the due date at the top.

I crossed those tasks off of the task masterlist.

I “sealed” his task masterlist with a piece of washi tape (masking/painters tape also works great!)

I left space at the bottom of the page for additional notes he may think of throughout the week.

For many neurodivergent people, seeing a HUGE LIST OF THINGS YOU NEED TO DO is the single most discouraging thing ever. By removing the list of things from normal view, I’m relying on the theory of “out of sight, out of mind”. Of course, that doesn’t mean you can’t still get those things done! It’s more about tricking your brain into only thinking about the most important things you have to do in that time period. And then...getting the satisfaction of crossing them out once they're complete.

I have actually been using a method quite similar to this for my full planner. I tape folded half-pages full of long term goals, purchases, and other lists to my monthly page so that I can go back and reference them when I feel up for a new task. By keeping them hidden from my regular view it helps me feel less anxious about ALL THE THINGS I WANT TO ACHIEVE and I can instead focus on the short-term necessities.

(Please excuse my mess...I'm moving into a Hobonichi Cousin for 2024, and figuring out my process in this cheap planner in the meantime!)

✒ OTHER TIPS

Pick a notebook you like! Paper smoothness, paper thickness, size, lined, dotted, gridded, etc.

Use a writing utensil you enjoy! Rollerball, fountain pen, sharpies, pencil, whatever!

Think of it as a sensory experience when it comes to the above. If you enjoy the act of it, you’re more likely to do it!

If you are able to carry around two differently-colored pens, use one to underline/add contrast for readability.

Use a paperclip to keep your place.

If you have it available, use sticky notes for tentative plans that aren’t set in stone yet.

You ARE allowed to tear pages out, cut them, modify the cover, etc. NO RULES! It's your spce.

You can prevent bleedthrough to other pages by keeping a thin, paper-sized object behind your page. (Like shitajiki/pencil boards)

✒ CONCLUSION

The main point behind EVERYTHING I’ve written here is that digital tools aren’t for everyone. Notion, Obsidian, Trello, etc. are great resources, and there are many people who have great success when using them. However, I am sure there are many other people like my partner and I who have developed a kind of “clutter blindness” to things that aren’t immediately in front of them.

You aren’t stupid for needing things broken down into exact, detailed steps. You aren’t inherently irresponsible because you miss deadlines or misplace important information. You need accessibility. The world may not be built for people like us, but there are so many ways you can learn to help yourself achieve your goals

(Please feel free to add your ideas and modifications to this post! I'd love to see what your methods are-- perhaps they might help me, as well!)

[thvnderr]

cw: Religion and religious themes, mentions of violence and a toxic household

I : THE LOVERS’ MASK

A TALE CALLED THE MOON’S ANGUISH THAT HAS CIRCULATED ANCHORAGE FOR THE PAST SEVERAL DECADES HAS PROMPTED SOME YOUNG LOVERS TO EXCHANGE MASKS AS A PROMISE OF DEVOTION. WHAT DESIGN WOULD MUSE THEORETICALLY THINK FITS THEM ( LOOK BACK TO REVENGE OF KRAMPUS FOR REFERENCE, #ANCHORTASK01 ON OUR SERVER ) ?

A simple black one would do. Isn’t Seojun just like that? Simple? Church on Sundays, family dinner at six every day, lo-fi music while doing homework or working. But then, if you turn the mask around, it is way more decorated than the outside. It is red, it holds little jewels and an intricate embroidered pattern. There’s always more than meets the eye and we should never get influenced by first impressions.

SOME MIGHT CONSIDER THEM LEADING A DOUBLE LIFE IF THEY KNEW ABOUT …

Ha! His poor mother would have a heart attack, his father would either be proud or stop talking to him altogether. Hands hidden in pockets or behind gloves are just to hide the excessive scars on his hands. “It’s cold today, isn’t it?” “Oh, it’s more hygienic to serve drinks this way”. There is always a valid excuse and his friendly smile rarely gives space for doubt. As an Ivy League student that just graduated, it would certainly be a heartbreaking notice to know that Seojun spends his nights unleashing the restrained anger in petty criminals and the underground fighting ring.

WHAT WOULD BE THEIR OWN DEAL BREAKER IN A RELATIONSHIP ? WOULD THEY DIE FOR LOVE OR KILL FOR MONEY ?

His past relationships have had a sense of monotony throughout them. Seojun would deny it, but the lack of attention to his own life for the past... 10 years has been obvious for most. Family secrets and a toxic community had pushed him into a state of dissociation unless he has a boxing bag in front of him. His relationships would usually be painfully standard. Any kind of passion stopped because God would never approve... unless we get married.  Marriage.  Images of his own parent’s failed relationship would cause him to create a wall between him and his lover almost instantly. The relationship would end soon by a lack of enthusiasm, usually someone else sweeping his love off their feet. A deal breaker for him would probably be a lack of trust in the sense of asking all them time what he’s doing; but isn’t your partner allowed to know why you come home so late at night? Why you got that black eye or the busted lip? Darling, it is your own double life that will end anything and everything you may have with someone.

Die for love? Kill for money? Shouldn’t he need to love and to lack money for both? He claims to be protective and good and kind, but let’s be honest here, would anybody be worth the risk of truly dying? “It’s you against everything and everyone, Seojun. Survival of the strongest, don’t forget it”, that’s what daddy drilled into his brain since he was born.

THEY ONLY HAVE ENOUGH CHANGE FOR ONE CALL AT THE PHONEBOOTH, & SOMEONE WITH GLARING RED EYES & A SPATULA IS STANDING ACROSS THE STREET. WHO WILL THEY CALL ?

Fight or flight. No. Fight. Fight. FIGHT. Running is for cowards, die with honor unless there’s an actual chance of surviving and retaliating if you run. Swallowing down the anxiety, he would walk straight to them. Let’s get this solved once and for all.

II : THE ZEIGEIST OF THE ‘90S

THEIR FAVORITE SLASHER FILM IS ( IF APPLICABLE ) …

He hasn’t watched many because of his upbringing, but the Halloween series are always a good option for him.

IN THEIR FREE TIME, THEY ENJOY GOING OUT AND …

Laying down on the grass, having a moment of peace, breathing in the air and imagining he’s gone, gone, gone.

A FASHION FAD OF THE TIMES THEY ADORE THAT THEIR FRIENDS WOULD DESPISE IS …

Standard buttoned shirts. Does this man even own a t-shirt? Well, yes, but he only uses them for training. His style seems pretty basic. Where’s the spice, Seojun?

HOW OFTEN DO THEY ORDER DELIVERY FROM PEPPY’S PIZZERIA ?HAVE THEY EVER SEEN THE WALLS OOZE GREEN SLIME IN THE PIZZERIA OR THE ANIMATRONICS MOVE ON THEIR OWN DURING THEIR TIME IN ANCHORAGE ?

Sometimes he and his coworkers at the Scaredy Cat order some specially when it’s particularly crowded, but so far, Seojun hasn’t stayed long enough at the pizzeria to notice anything weird.

WHEN THEY BELIEVED IN CHRISTMAS, WERE THEY TOLD KRAMPUS WOULD PAY THEM A VISIT FOR BEING ON THE NAUGHTY LIST ? ( WRITE N/A IF NOT APPLICABLE TO THEIR RELIGION OR LIFESTYLE )

Absolutely! Be a good kid. Behave. Obey your parents. Don’t forget to pray before eating dinner. Never miss church. Get good grades. Help others. The list could go on and on, but more than Krampus and the lack of presents, it would be the constant reminder of hell for those who miss the Lord’s words. Seojun has lost a lot of his religious drive, but still plays along with his family for the sake of keeping the peace.

WHAT TALL TALE OR SUPERSTITION WERE THEY TOLD AS A CHILD THAT STILL GIVES THEM THE HEEBIE JEEBIES ?

N/A

III : THE CURSE OF THE SPIDER

ARE THERE FAMILY SECRETS OR SO-CALLED CURSES THAT HAUNT THEM ? ONES THAT ARE KNOWN PUBLICLY OR FOLLOW THEM FIGURATIVELY ?

You bet! Family secrets have not been discovered just yet, but Seojun wonders if there was more about moving to Anchorage than his uncle getting a promotion. Whispering and odd behavior has only been increasing since they arrived.

WHICH OF THE SEVEN SINS WOULD CORRUPT THEIR MORALS ?

Wrath. Seojun is proud to say he has good self-control and he does! But if Anchorage is good for anything, it is to make the strongest person falter, so how long until a fruitless road forces him into more violent actions?

THE WORLD REMAINS THE SAME FOR DECADES NOW. IS IGNORANCE BLISS ? OR IS THERE THE SHAKY SENSE SOMETHING IS AMISS THAT CAN’T BE IGNORED ?

There’s something wrong, he can tell. The walls are listening, the painting can see. Call him paranoid, but there is an unmistakable feeling of being watched at all times.

DREAMS ARE OFTEN INFLUENCED BY THE SUBCONSCIOUS & SOMETIMES DISTORTED. IN THEIR DEEPEST, DARKEST NIGHTMARES, HOW DO THEY VIEW THEMSELVES ?

The prey instead of the hunter. Running from something they cannot see or even hear, but the moment he stops running will be the moment it gets him.    Or at least that’s what he thinks.   In all honesty, Seojun could stop running and realize he has been escaping from his own shadow, that there is nothing to be scared about.       Or maybe whatever is following him will in fact catch up and end him.

IV : THE CROOKED FRAME

WHAT IS THEIR DEATH WISH ? MIROIRS ONLY ( BASTARDS GANG INCLUDED ) : THE PERFECT CRIME WAS CONSTRUCTED & SOMEONE ELSE TOOK THEIR PLACE. HOW DID THEY ORIGINALLY DIE ?

To die fighting, knowing he gave his all until his last breath. Funny enough how he doesn’t see himself dying peacefully. When did you lose the ability to dream of a good death, kid? What destroyed you so bad that made you believe only the vicious end is the one allowed for you?

MUSE COULDN’T BE THE ONE BEHIND THE TUNNEL OF LOVE OUTAGE BECAUSE WHEN THE POWER WENT OUT, THEY WERE …

Heading home after a long shift.

WHAT WOULD THEY CONSIDER THEIR CALLING CARD ( I.E. WHAT SYMBOLS, PERSONAL MEMENTOS, ETC. DO THEY PERCEIVE AS REPRESENTATIVE OF THEMSELVES ) ?

Boxing gloves, a labrador, a forgotten and dusty bible in the drawer of his night table.

THOSE WITH INTERMEDIATE TECHNICAL SKILLS HAVE USED CRACKS & VPNS TO IMPROVE THE INTERNET CONNECTION, BUT ANYTHING POST-DATING THE 1990S IS ONLY ACCESSIBLE THROUGH THE DARK WEB. HAS MUSE EVER ACCESSED THE DARK WEB ? HAVE THEY USED IT FOR ANY NEFARIOUS MEANS OR TO PURCHASE SERVICES?

He is not the best out there, but he has learned a lot through edition. Yes, he has accessed the dark web trying to search for info but the most important things are under more and more layers of security that he has not been able to breach through.

[pillarmenzine]

would the artists be paid with the money made from the merch and booklets?

Hi! So I’ll paste a bit from our About page explaning where the money goes, then elaborate on why we made this decision.

Answer below the Read More because it ended up a bit long. Sorry! I want to be transparent about what we’re using the money for :)

Q: Where does the money from physical pre-orders go?

A: Income from physical sales will be used to cover the printing costs. If the preorder ends up making more money than we planned to spend, profits will be put towards the project to improve the general quality of the product (eg. thicker paper, gold foil, more art prints). If we’re very succesful and make more money than we can find a practical use for, it will be sent to a charity which would be discussed in the contributor server or decided via a public poll. Probably something topical, like a South American conservation fund? :)

As compensation we’d like to give all contributors a free physical copy of the zine. Even if we don’t make profit I’d still be up for paying out of pocket to send this to you so we can give you something in return for your work.

We discussed splitting profits equally but the main reasons we decided against it were:

Exclusion:

- We would need to reject applicants based on them not being able to recieve payment for any reason (eg. age or country) - If we didn’t even have profit to distrubute at the end, it would mean we'd excluded people for no reason. Which would suck!

We’re not expecting a massive profit, it would just be nice!

- If for example we made £30 and had to split it with 30 people, it’d feel a bit pointless sending everyone £1 haha. - If the profit was that low then currency conversion & paypal/transfer fees may end up costing more money than we actually had to give out in the first place.

We don’t want to promise something we have no control over:

- Personally I’ve been in zines that planned to split money, and never recieved anything, presumably cause they didn’t sell enough... So our decision avoids disappointment if people go into this expecting money and it doesn’t happen.

It’s a good question to ask, thank you!  Let us know if you have any concerns.

[minebentobox]

Even if these jobs were only for teenagers and only part time AND they had great parents and a safe environment the wages would STILL be too low. 7.25h for part time hours is not even going to cover car insurance and upkeep to get to work and our public transportation sucks in USA. So why are the kids working? it’s not benefiting them. Even a movie date and Taco Bell for food is going to run nearly 10 hours of work, a night at the fare is going to run nearly 10 hours of work. 7.25h does not even cover basic little excursions so the “it’s pocket money” is not an excuse. And at 16 you need to be saving for college, a car, spending hours a day looking up scholarships to apply for. Many college applications cost money, MOST apartment applications cost money. And this is assuming the kid is living a very good life at home.

Now what if that kid has a bad home life? What if they are being abused? What if their parents are going to kick them out the day they turn 18? What if their parent opened a credit card under their name and dumped them with the bills - now they have to pay that back or hire a lawyer. These are all just stories I know from people I met my age who were still trying to get life on track 10 years after. And people act like those stories are the exception not the rule but in my experience the kid who had financially stable parents AND parental support was the exception.

Businesses firing employees for trying to organize a union is one of many pieces of evidence that capitalism is not about freedom, but about being as close to slavery as possible.

If capitalism were really about freedom, making sure employees have the means to negotiate wages would be encouraged, not suppressed.

This is also proof that "most people who work those jobs are teenagers" is a bullshit excuse for poverty wages. Teenagers deserve a living wage too.

[dknightconsulting]

How Much Should I Pay For Tax Preparation?

Paying and preparing taxes is burdensome for many of us. Of course, we need more time to prepare tax paying fees. To guide you, tax preparation services in Calgaryare there to help you in possible ways. Doing taxes with nominal fees is a must. It may be convenient for you to get someone else to prepare taxes. 

A professional paying service in Calgary is delivering timely tax preparation service. They will help you find out the best thing, and tax season must be assigned with a professional, convenient approach. Thus, it stands as the best one and has peace of mind in tax preparation service. 

How much does it cost to get your taxes done?

On the other hand, the tax preparation cost actually depends on the basis of moderate evaluation. It stands as the best one and includes standard returns with itemized deductions. The reason is to handle tax preparation with cost anywhere and consider complications. 

The tax situation must be handled well with tax pro charges for services. Now, it completely depends on tax preparation services in Calgary.Hourly fees are usually ranging from nearly $100–200 per hour. But, depending on what kind of tax forms you wish to file, the cost will vary accordingly. 

It includes standard results and mainly applicable for deductions and notice the tax preparation. There will be no return with basic tax from preparation and covers with standard results. Tax preparation service is a must one to handle anywhere in the basic pay to advanced one. 

How qualified do you need to prepare taxes?

Of course, an average tax preparer will charge less than a high-quality one. It includes loads of experience, and changes would be playing with tax paying. It is completely the best one and gives peace of mind in buying a tax preparation service. When it comes to hiring tax preparation services, you must notice the accurate and thorough considerations as well. 

On the other hand, tax preparation is a must and handles cutting-edge solutions. They can find out how to spend more cash and enable expert ideas. It is completely the best one and tackles the results in saving money as well. Thus, tax preparation service is a must to know the qualification of tax preparation. 

How organized are your taxes

Tax preparation should be responsible for handling more work and being able to go ahead with pockets and fingertips. It should be maintained well and fulfill the goals accordingly. The tax preparation service took a good idea and had a potential outcome in showing potential benefits. 

You have to be organized in arranging tax preparation services to fulfill the budget constraints and tally the amount paid. Organized tax preparation is a must to handle requirements, and I look forward to higher fees. 

How do tax advisors set their prices?

Of course, the tax preparation service is a must, and advisors will check the payment and fees accordingly. It should be valid enough and have peace of mind in sitting with them. You have to provide everything to them and guide them accordingly. Thus, it includes preparing methods described by the taxpayers. 

At first, the tax preparation service took a good motive and initially paid with each tax from a schedule. It is completely worth wondering about the average costs of filling common forms. They should be vital and have peace of mind in noticing the fee of each tax for average costs. Hence, it is mainly ready to focus on matching rates and fees to find tax preparation services. 

On the other hand, tax preparation with the same tax advisor has to bring a matching rate with the advisor’s help. It will guide you to charge with the case and notice the changes with more complexity. They arrange with a chance that the price could increase for some reason. You will often deliver a matching rate and fee to match with paid off with the same tax advisor. 

A professional tax preparation service must handle your taxes with a minimum fee, and a more complicated process will be handled. It will effectively undergo charging with more compensation options to handle beyond the flat rate. It will think about flat fees and make them think about the complications in tax preparation. 

Furthermore, the charges are value one and completely based on the pricing. It will cost according to the value-based fees and lead to disputes. Of course, tax preparation is a must, with day and day-out quoting needs. It will result in focusing on job access with tax to pay with value-based fees as well. 

If you are a tax advisor, charge per hour, spend how much you want to consult for tax advisors. So, it is always best to spend by charging an hourly rate and discussing the tax value and payment. Hourly fees must be easily set out with tax forms and able to expect spending with much time. 

Where can you find a trustworthy advisor for tax preparation?

You cannot sit alone to prepare taxes. However, it is always best to hire tax preparation services in Calgary to maintain steady outcomes. However, you have to evaluate the job done and assign a proper tax consultation without any hassles. 

The same goes with tax advisors, and notice the changes in paying at the right time. So, a trustworthy tax advisor and tax preparation service is a must-have to hire or consult. 

Likewise, the tax advisor should notice the changes in the situation and do it based on the requirements. Thus, it stands best one and ensures focus on the tax bill and maintains as low as possible with more values. 

Conclusion

Finally, the tax preparation services Calgaryis a must to guide you to file and pay for tax. Of course, they will guide you professionally and pay tax on time without penalties. Thus, you can get quotes from them and literally get the charges based on the preparation. 

The credentials and levels of expertise should be noticed professionally without any hassles. So, it is always the best thing to consult the best company that provides tax preparation services professionally.

[pokemonunitefreeaeosgenerat]

Pokemon Unite Free Aeos Generator 2024 [NO SURVEY WITHOUT VERIFICATION]

Pokemon Unite Free Aeos Generator 2024 wITHOUT HUman Verification.15 WAYS TO GET FREE AEOS GEMS IN POKÉMON UNITE.Do you want to understand how to earn Aeos Gems in Pokémon Unite totally free without consuming your salary? Looking for a code generator to earn infinite Aeos Gems in Pokémon Unite? It even seems like a lie, however, if I say that it is truly possible to gain balance in Pokémon Unite?

🔴✅ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ʜᴇʀᴇ👉 https://techplaneter.com/pokemonunite  

SERVER 2🔴 🅶🅾️ 🅷🅴🆁🅴 👉 https://epicplayloft.com/pokemonunite

Are you giving it your all in Pokémon UNITE but not getting the desired results? We have the solution to reach the top and put you at the same level as the best players. The secret lies in obtaining more resources, something that you can get through our coins gems generator. This free tool is quite intuitive and you will only need to spend a few seconds of your time to get the most out of it.

How to easily use the coins gems generator for Pokémon UNITE

It is very rewarding to develop our skills as a player to get results. However, Pokémon UNITE will not make it easy for you and you will need a little push to advance. Our coins gems generator makes it easy for you to get everything you need and become the invincible player you always wanted to be.

From here we are going to explain what you have to do to get coins gems for Pokémon UNITE quickly and easily:

Enter the web and access the resource generator. In the search engine enter the name of Pokémon UNITE and, once inside, select the resource that most interests you.

Each game has different resources to pass each level, so if you want to continue advancing, put the amount of coins gems that you would like to appear in your account.

The only thing we are going to ask you to access the resource you need is your username and the platform with which you usually play Pokémon UNITE.

Once you have done so, press the Start button and the resource will automatically appear in your account.

What is simple? These basic steps will lead you to enjoy Pokémon UNITE even more, obtaining unlimited coins gems. In addition, you will not have to make any payment or register on the platform.

This way you will get coins gems for free for Pokémon UNITE

If you’ve read the steps above, you know how easy it is to get coins gems for Pokémon UNITE . Our generator is completely free and you will need to spend very little time on it. In addition, it will always be available to you and with it you will get unlimited resources .

Each game has a series of requirements that the player must meet in order to continue prospering. In our generator you will have all the necessary resources to reach the highest levels with much less effort. It doesn’t matter what device you have because this free tool works on all of them, be it Windows, an Android mobile, Xbox360 or PS4.

tricks CHEATS — HACKS Pokémon UNITE ACTION 2024

Video-tutorial

Pokémon Unite is one of the most downloaded games right now. You certainly must have it in your cell phone. Even though it’s free to play, to enjoy and have advantages in the game, you need to take it out of your pocket. There is nothing free…

Not everyone can spend, thinking about it, I wanted to make this guide with some tips on apps, websites and hacks to get free Aeos Pokémon Unite Gems.

In some of the suggestions to earn Aeos Gems in Pokémon Unite without spending your money you need to install certain applications, also register and perform tasks to collect points that can be exchanged for digital money. Many of these applications already give an initial amount of points for registering as a bonus, and also makes it possible to acquire more points by referring people.

This post does not merely suggest each site and app, but also teaches you step by step how to get coins in those apps to be redeemed on Google Play, PayPal, App Store or other allowed place, to be able to use in Pokémon Unite in-game coins.

[pokemonunitehackaeosgenerator]

[HOW-TO] Pokemon Unite Hack Aeos Generator 2024 Without HuMaN Verification

Pokemon Unite Free Aeos Generator 2024 wITHOUT HUman Verification.15 WAYS TO GET FREE AEOS GEMS IN POKÉMON UNITE.Do you want to understand how to earn Aeos Gems in Pokémon Unite totally free without consuming your salary? Looking for a code generator to earn infinite Aeos Gems in Pokémon Unite? It even seems like a lie, however, if I say that it is truly possible to gain balance in Pokémon Unite?

🔴✅ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ʜᴇʀᴇ👉 https://techplaneter.com/pokemonunite  

SERVER 2🔴 🅶🅾️ 🅷🅴🆁🅴 👉 https://epicplayloft.com/pokemonunite

Are you giving it your all in Pokémon UNITE but not getting the desired results? We have the solution to reach the top and put you at the same level as the best players. The secret lies in obtaining more resources, something that you can get through our coins gems generator. This free tool is quite intuitive and you will only need to spend a few seconds of your time to get the most out of it.

How to easily use the coins gems generator for Pokémon UNITE

It is very rewarding to develop our skills as a player to get results. However, Pokémon UNITE will not make it easy for you and you will need a little push to advance. Our coins gems generator makes it easy for you to get everything you need and become the invincible player you always wanted to be.

From here we are going to explain what you have to do to get coins gems for Pokémon UNITE quickly and easily:

Enter the web and access the resource generator. In the search engine enter the name of Pokémon UNITE and, once inside, select the resource that most interests you.

Each game has different resources to pass each level, so if you want to continue advancing, put the amount of coins gems that you would like to appear in your account.

The only thing we are going to ask you to access the resource you need is your username and the platform with which you usually play Pokémon UNITE.

Once you have done so, press the Start button and the resource will automatically appear in your account.

What is simple? These basic steps will lead you to enjoy Pokémon UNITE even more, obtaining unlimited coins gems. In addition, you will not have to make any payment or register on the platform.

This way you will get coins gems for free for Pokémon UNITE

If you’ve read the steps above, you know how easy it is to get coins gems for Pokémon UNITE . Our generator is completely free and you will need to spend very little time on it. In addition, it will always be available to you and with it you will get unlimited resources .

Each game has a series of requirements that the player must meet in order to continue prospering. In our generator you will have all the necessary resources to reach the highest levels with much less effort. It doesn’t matter what device you have because this free tool works on all of them, be it Windows, an Android mobile, Xbox360 or PS4.

tricks CHEATS — HACKS Pokémon UNITE ACTION 2024

Video-tutorial

Pokémon Unite is one of the most downloaded games right now. You certainly must have it in your cell phone. Even though it’s free to play, to enjoy and have advantages in the game, you need to take it out of your pocket. There is nothing free…

Not everyone can spend, thinking about it, I wanted to make this guide with some tips on apps, websites and hacks to get free Aeos Pokémon Unite Gems.

In some of the suggestions to earn Aeos Gems in Pokémon Unite without spending your money you need to install certain applications, also register and perform tasks to collect points that can be exchanged for digital money. Many of these applications already give an initial amount of points for registering as a bonus, and also makes it possible to acquire more points by referring people.

This post does not merely suggest each site and app, but also teaches you step by step how to get coins in those apps to be redeemed on Google Play, PayPal, App Store or other allowed place, to be able to use in Pokémon Unite in-game coins.

[danni-phantom]

A Beginner's Guide to Litecoin Mining

A Beginner's Guide to Litecoin Mining

Content Can I Mine Litecoin With My Laptop? What Hardware Is Needed to Mine Litecoin? Litecoin mining and GPUs Best Bitcoin Wallets for iOS: iPhone, iPad An early fork of Bitcoin, Litecoin still works on the deflationary principle and a faster block time of 2.5 minutes in comparison to the 10 minute average of BTC. This website is using a security service to protect itself from online attacks. The action you just performed triggered the security solution. There are several actions that could trigger this block including submitting a certain word or phrase, a SQL command or malformed data. To check rates and terms Stilt may be able offer you a soft credit inquiry that will be made. However, if you choose to accept a Stilt loan offer, a hard inquiry from one or more of the consumer reporting agencies will be required. You should choose one with a good reputation, and strong security. Hardware wallets are the gold standard for crypto wallet security. Litecoin, also in the same way as Bitcoin, uses a distributed ledger that is known as a blockchain. Our ultimate guide to mining the Litecoin cryptocurrency tells you everything you need to know. Litecoin faucet makes money by publishing the ads on their website or by Litecoin mining. But not every Litecoin faucet is legit in fact, 90% of them are scams. Most Litecoin faucets either do not pay or even if they pay then not on time and their platform is flooded with thousands of irritating pop-up ads. ASIC. ASICs – Application-Specific Integrated Circuits – are considered to be the best Litecoin miners. There are many different types of ASICs, but these ASICs are specifically designed and created with one purpose in mind – to mine the hell out of Litecoins. These fees vary between exchanges and can be minimal, but should still be factored into the overall cost. Once you are up and running with your Litecoin mining, you need to make sure your output is profitable – that you are making more money from mining than you are spending. The first thing people who want to mine Litecoin need to do is to set up a Litecoin wallet. This does exactly what it says on the tin; provides a safe and secure place to store Litecoin. Various Litecoin wallets are available so you can check them out online and decide which is right for you. Mining cryptocurrency can be a great way to put more money in your pocket, as long as you know what you are doing. Those who are just starting out might find it to be very confusing but the process is more straightforward than many people would expect. To withdraw the rewards of mining, you need a good address for payout. A reliable crypto wallet will make withdrawals a breeze and keep your funds protected. You can mine LTC using GPU mining rigs or ASIC mining hardware, such as an GPU miner or ASIC miner. A miner’s pre-installed software … Leggi tutto

https://online-wine-shop.com/a-beginner-s-guide-to-litecoin-mining/

[laughing-at-nothing]

A Beginner's Guide to Litecoin Mining

A Beginner's Guide to Litecoin Mining

Content Can I Mine Litecoin With My Laptop? What Hardware Is Needed to Mine Litecoin? Litecoin mining and GPUs Best Bitcoin Wallets for iOS: iPhone, iPad An early fork of Bitcoin, Litecoin still works on the deflationary principle and a faster block time of 2.5 minutes in comparison to the 10 minute average of BTC. This website is using a security service to protect itself from online attacks. The action you just performed triggered the security solution. There are several actions that could trigger this block including submitting a certain word or phrase, a SQL command or malformed data. To check rates and terms Stilt may be able offer you a soft credit inquiry that will be made. However, if you choose to accept a Stilt loan offer, a hard inquiry from one or more of the consumer reporting agencies will be required. You should choose one with a good reputation, and strong security. Hardware wallets are the gold standard for crypto wallet security. Litecoin, also in the same way as Bitcoin, uses a distributed ledger that is known as a blockchain. Our ultimate guide to mining the Litecoin cryptocurrency tells you everything you need to know. Litecoin faucet makes money by publishing the ads on their website or by Litecoin mining. But not every Litecoin faucet is legit in fact, 90% of them are scams. Most Litecoin faucets either do not pay or even if they pay then not on time and their platform is flooded with thousands of irritating pop-up ads. ASIC. ASICs – Application-Specific Integrated Circuits – are considered to be the best Litecoin miners. There are many different types of ASICs, but these ASICs are specifically designed and created with one purpose in mind – to mine the hell out of Litecoins. These fees vary between exchanges and can be minimal, but should still be factored into the overall cost. Once you are up and running with your Litecoin mining, you need to make sure your output is profitable – that you are making more money from mining than you are spending. The first thing people who want to mine Litecoin need to do is to set up a Litecoin wallet. This does exactly what it says on the tin; provides a safe and secure place to store Litecoin. Various Litecoin wallets are available so you can check them out online and decide which is right for you. Mining cryptocurrency can be a great way to put more money in your pocket, as long as you know what you are doing. Those who are just starting out might find it to be very confusing but the process is more straightforward than many people would expect. To withdraw the rewards of mining, you need a good address for payout. A reliable crypto wallet will make withdrawals a breeze and keep your funds protected. You can mine LTC using GPU mining rigs or ASIC mining hardware, such as an GPU miner or ASIC miner. A miner’s pre-installed software … Leggi tutto

https://online-wine-shop.com/a-beginner-s-guide-to-litecoin-mining/

[mimwashere]

A Beginner's Guide to Litecoin Mining

A Beginner's Guide to Litecoin Mining

Content Can I Mine Litecoin With My Laptop? What Hardware Is Needed to Mine Litecoin? Litecoin mining and GPUs Best Bitcoin Wallets for iOS: iPhone, iPad An early fork of Bitcoin, Litecoin still works on the deflationary principle and a faster block time of 2.5 minutes in comparison to the 10 minute average of BTC. This website is using a security service to protect itself from online attacks. The action you just performed triggered the security solution. There are several actions that could trigger this block including submitting a certain word or phrase, a SQL command or malformed data. To check rates and terms Stilt may be able offer you a soft credit inquiry that will be made. However, if you choose to accept a Stilt loan offer, a hard inquiry from one or more of the consumer reporting agencies will be required. You should choose one with a good reputation, and strong security. Hardware wallets are the gold standard for crypto wallet security. Litecoin, also in the same way as Bitcoin, uses a distributed ledger that is known as a blockchain. Our ultimate guide to mining the Litecoin cryptocurrency tells you everything you need to know. Litecoin faucet makes money by publishing the ads on their website or by Litecoin mining. But not every Litecoin faucet is legit in fact, 90% of them are scams. Most Litecoin faucets either do not pay or even if they pay then not on time and their platform is flooded with thousands of irritating pop-up ads. ASIC. ASICs – Application-Specific Integrated Circuits – are considered to be the best Litecoin miners. There are many different types of ASICs, but these ASICs are specifically designed and created with one purpose in mind – to mine the hell out of Litecoins. These fees vary between exchanges and can be minimal, but should still be factored into the overall cost. Once you are up and running with your Litecoin mining, you need to make sure your output is profitable – that you are making more money from mining than you are spending. The first thing people who want to mine Litecoin need to do is to set up a Litecoin wallet. This does exactly what it says on the tin; provides a safe and secure place to store Litecoin. Various Litecoin wallets are available so you can check them out online and decide which is right for you. Mining cryptocurrency can be a great way to put more money in your pocket, as long as you know what you are doing. Those who are just starting out might find it to be very confusing but the process is more straightforward than many people would expect. To withdraw the rewards of mining, you need a good address for payout. A reliable crypto wallet will make withdrawals a breeze and keep your funds protected. You can mine LTC using GPU mining rigs or ASIC mining hardware, such as an GPU miner or ASIC miner. A miner’s pre-installed software … Leggi tutto

https://online-wine-shop.com/a-beginner-s-guide-to-litecoin-mining/

[agapaic]

[19 days] whiplash [ch. 365 after-shot]

The shop will be closing soon. He’s seen an attendant wandering around, who will probably ask him to leave in the next five minutes. There’s no one else here. His clothes are vivid against the neon glow of the tanks. The fish cast strange shadows on his shirt, living out a second life on his skin.

They swim in half-circles before sharply changing direction, never touching the glass. He wonders if they know it’s there, as if they can sense some immovable wall that holds them back.

He’s not getting deep about this. He could contemplate, quite extensively, about how their freedom must be bought by some higher power, and they would really only go from one tank to the next, slightly bigger, slightly richer. It’s all fake shit, and he remembers that in some ways he’s got it better than an animal. He can, at least, run away. Maybe he won’t get far. Just to the edges of the city villages where he’ll get a job earning less than before and lose his place in school.

Guan Shan puts a finger on the glass in front of him. There’s a label in the corner, peeling away from the glass. Veiltail goldfish. They have wispy, membrane-like tails. He could put his hand on the other side and see all the way through. Guan Shan watches the only black fish in the tank move placidly through the water.

Beneath the label, a smaller one: Black moor. For a minute he considers tugging the label off and putting it in his pocket, a little secret. He remembers that would be stealing, in some way, and someone in the shop would have to go to the effort of printing and laminating and reapplying the label just for one fish.

Guan Shan turns away.

He wanders for a few more minutes. He’s aware of his reflection in the glass. He worries about how long the attendant will let him stay there, and the thought that they will make him leave makes him feel slightly sick. He likes it here—the quiet, the muted hum of the tanks, the strange lights. They make him feel somewhere else.

His mother is working the night shift and won’t be home until just before he’s meant to go to school the next morning. They’ll have long enough together that he could tell her he got fired from the shop, but not long enough that he could reasonably pretend to have forgotten as he tugs on his uniform and slips out the front door.

She won’t be mad—she never is.

She can’t take on another shift.

Mentally, he has started taking stock. His Xbox is a few years old, but he’ll get something for it. He has a stack of old music magazines from his dad that could catch the eye of a collector. His computer, maybe.

The earrings.

His stomach twists.

Really, it’s not much. It’ll earn them a month, which could be just long enough for him to get another job, but what’s the likelihood of that in a city where most kids are just trying to bulk their CV’s for their college applications. Besides, his grades speak for themselves. He got lucky with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.

‘Hey, kid. We’re closing soon, so unless you wanna buy something…’

Guan Shan nods. His shoulders round.

For no logical reason, he says: ‘Can I take a goldfish?’

‘Sure. The black moor? Saw you had your eye on that one.’

‘No, one of the others.’

The attendant comes up next to him. ‘Just the one? They don’t like being on their own, you know.’

He presses his jaw tightly. A small sound comes out of him. He looks at the price tag and is somehow shocked and saddened to see the figure so low.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘The black one, too, I guess.’

He pays, then leaves. It’s late enough that the streets are quieter than he expected. He’s usually home by now, his shift over, reheating leftovers while he works on his homework. He stands there while the shop attendant locks up behind him, holding the plastic bag with two fish in his hand. He feels stupid. Behind his eyes, he can feel a sort of stinging sensation.

He has the unnameable urge to grab one of the passing strangers and tell them how he’s feeling, what has happened, what could happen. On some level he knows that everyone has their own problems, and he’s not the type of person to overstep his bounds. Instead, he watches them pass, and after a few more minutes he goes to the nearest subway station and gets the train home.

/

He had half expected He Tian to find him on the street. He’d imagined it, He Tian catching his arm as he wandered from store to store, deliberating at large windows with thin mannequins and expensive jewellery without price tags. There is a part of him that’s disappointed that it didn’t play out like this, a part of him that is even angrier to find He Tian sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he eventually does get home.

It’s close to midnight, and the stairwell is clinically quiet. Outside, the stars are dusty and covered in a thin layer of smog that is less noticeable in the day. He Tian looks exhausted. He’s the type of good looking where even the slightest imperfection somehow makes him even more attractive. Guan Shan hates it.

He stands when Guan Shan walks in, suddenly filling the space, and Guan Shan says, ‘Get outta my way.’

‘Where have you been?’

Guan Shan shoulders past him. There’s a moment where he thinks He Tian will grab him around the shoulders, the air around him simmering enough that Guan Shan is convinced it’s a near thing, choking with danger, but he lets him pass. He follows Guan Shan up the staircase, his footsteps silent, his body casting long shadows on the steps where Guan Shan sets his feet.

At the door, Guan Shan pockets the notice that’s taped there, knowing He Tian has already seen it. Less sharply, he picks up the notes in He Tian’s and Jian Yi’s writing and folds them into careful squares.

‘You’re not comin’ in,’ he says.

‘I called you, like, fifty times. Did you block me?’

Guan Shan thinks He Tian sounds angrier than he really has a right to be. He turns and presses his back to the door. He has his keys clenched tightly in a closed fist.

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to talk to you. I thought you would’ve gotten that.’

‘I can get you another job. Something better paid.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ clueless.’

He Tian’s eyes tighten.

‘You’re ruining my life,’ says Guan Shan.

‘That’s—that isn’t true. I’ve helped you. You would’ve been expelled if—’

‘Maybe I would’ve gotten expelled. But I wouldn’t have had She Li on my dick all the time, would I? Wouldn’t need you to get me a job ‘cause you made me lose my last one, would I? You’re just—stickin’ a bandage on shit when you hurt me first.’

‘It’s not always like that. Don’t make it sound like it’s always like that.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. ‘I want you to go. I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Fuck off.’

He Tian says, ‘Let me pay what was on the door.’

‘Fuck off.’

He Tian doesn’t move and Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to cry again, the frustration bubbling sourly in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to open the door while He Tian is still here because he knows he’ll probably let him in.

‘Do I really make you feel like a failure?’

Guan Shan rubs at his eyes with his fist. His voice comes hoarse and thick: ‘I am a failure. Bein’ around you just makes it so much more fuckin’ obvious.’

He doesn’t want He Tian’s pity when he says this, or his reassurance. He’s just being honest. Saying it out loud is kind of breathlessly relieving. He couldn’t say something like that to his mother, or any of the teachers at school. He couldn’t say it to Grey, who he’s known for years. He Tian knows more about him than anyone. It’s a terrifying thought.

If they never see each other again, will He Tian tell everyone the things Guan Shan has told him? About the restaurant and his dad, or about She Li and the things Guan Shan has let him do to him? He feels vulnerable and sick thinking about it, completely powerless, as he does a lot of the time when he’s around He Tian.

He oscillates between that feeling of uselessness and the feeling of being so empowered that he thinks it must be what being high or drunk feels like. That latter has him trusting his own convictions, having an unadulterated faith in himself like jumping from a bridge and thinking he might just fly—so long as He Tian is with him. He doesn’t like how it’s one or the other, empowered or powerless, and rarely anything in between. He’s heard adults on TV talking about being codependent, pulled punishingly into each other's orbit, and he wonders if this is the same thing.

In the end he supposes it doesn’t really matter. So what if He Tian tells everyone? Probably, he won’t see the rest of the year out at school. He’ll get a job on a different side of the city and no one will hear from him ever again. The embarrassment will all be internal and will only last a week or two. Then life will move on. He wishes he were older and wiser and better at believing this. He wishes it didn’t feel like the universe might fall out from beneath him.

‘Doesn’t matter what I do, it turns to shit,’ he tells He Tian. ‘No matter how hard I work, I’m never gonna earn enough. I can spend three hours studyin’ for a test and still come last. If it isn’t She Li, then it’ll be someone else. I just—I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, He Tian. But you do somethin’ and you come first every time. Life’s so easy for you.’

He Tian shifts from side to side. ‘Do you think things wouldn’t feel so hard if you stopped focussing on what you think my life is like?’

‘You’re pissin’ me off.’

‘I don’t know how I’m meant to help you. You won’t let me give you money. It’s like pulling teeth from you just trying to know what’s going on with you. What are you so fucking afraid of?’

‘I never asked for your help.’

‘You shouldn’t have to—that’s why we’re friends.’

‘I never said I wanted to be your friend.’

He Tian frowns, his look very serious. He isn’t teasing tonight. Neither is Guan Shan. There is the sense that their interactions are always anything but teasing, really, some dark undercurrent that runs between the two of them like dark veins.

He Tian says, ‘Are those fish?’

For a moment Guan Shan thinks he’s joking, deflecting wildly to distract from the seriousness of what Guan Shan has just said. Then he feels the crinkle of a plastic bag in his hand and, remembering how he’d just spent the last few hours, nearly drops the two goldfish onto the floor.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘You don’t have a tank.’

‘Yeah, no. I don’t know why I bought them.’

He Tian hesitates. There is a curious, predictable gleam in his eyes. ‘Red and black?’

‘It’s all they had left at the store.’

He Tian is looking intently at the bag. ‘Do you remember when we went to the aquarium? And you said I wasn’t someone you could forget?’

‘I just meant that—’

‘I know what you meant. But I always pretend like you meant it the other way.’

Guan Shan thinks, Don’t you think things would be easier if you stopped focusing on what you want me to mean and what I actually mean?

Instead of saying anything, he looks down at his sneakers. They’re scuffed and starting to rip at the seams. The thought of having to buy new ones makes him panic and the thought of buying a pair of second-hand ones online makes him panic even more. There’s no shame in it, but the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes makes him feel strange, especially when he knows He Tian could buy fifty pairs without blinking.

Guan Shan considers that thought and replays what He Tian has just said about focusing on his life too much more than his own. Maybe part of that is true.

Before He Tian, did he always feel things so intensely? Did the bad always feel so fucking awful? He knows that things were mechanical, and he was mean and didn’t think much about other people in particularly nice ways. He knows he didn’t laugh much then, or have dinners and sleepovers with friends. He knows everything hurt on a distant, muted level that was easy to ignore. Not much time has passed since then, and he reasons that nothing about him has probably changed, just everything else around him.

‘I can’t understand why you won’t let me help you,’ says He Tian, when the silence has stretched too long.

‘Because I’ll get used to it.’

He Tian frowns, not understanding.

‘One day, you’re not gonna be around. And I’ll be fucked.’

‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘You don’t know that. People say that a lot and then they disappear or get taken away, even if they didn’t want to.’

It’s obvious they’re talking about his dad, but it feels safer to talk about things in vague, subjective conversation. Maybe things would be easier if they talked openly about things and didn’t use metaphors and hypotheticals. As it is, Guan Shan doesn’t feel ready to try the alternative. He is conscious of the fact that this feels like a conversation. They are passing words back and forth that hold meaning and neither of them has touched the other yet. It feels new and fragile as an oil painting, still wet, and so he doesn’t let himself think about this for long.

‘I think you’re getting this wrong,’ says He Tian. ‘I’m not asking you to rely on me. Obviously, I’d kind of like that. I like the thought of you needing me, and I know that says something about me. But—I’m just asking you to let me help you. Just here and there, no strings.’

Guan Shan rubs his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His keys are starting to pinch his skin and he can feel a headache starting to surface.

‘I’m tired,’ he says. ‘I actually do want you to go.’

He Tian’s jaw clenches and he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s probably thinking he’s wasted his time.

‘Okay,’ he says then. ‘But we’re not done.’

A new wave of exhaustion comes over Guan Shan, crippling and final. He wants to get into bed with his skin against cold sheets and sleep for twelve hours without waking once.

‘You’re not the only one that ever gets to decide that,’ he tells He Tian, a little sharply. ‘You’ve gotta learn to let people go.’

‘But what if I know I can help them?’ says He Tian. ‘If I don’t, I’ve just—failed.’

They look at each other.

A minute stretches into an eternity that could be seconds or hours, and everything has gone backwards. Everything is the same.

Guan Shan can’t put his finger on what has just happened, but he feels like laughing. Their fears are twinned, self-perpetuating, some kind of ouroboros chasing its tail. Who will get caught first?

They both seem to take in a breath at the same time, and He Tian takes a step back.

‘Goodnight,’ he says.

Guan Shan nods. He waits for He Tian’s retreating back to disappear a few flights down before opening the door to his apartment, and shuts it swiftly behind him.

/

There’s a knock at the door while he’s brushing his teeth. The fish are swimming placidly in their bag on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s past one, and he keeps all the lights off because his eyes are feeling sore. He’s adjusted to the dim glow that comes from street lamps seeping through the curtains, the blink of the timer on the electric stove, his Xbox gleaming in his bedroom. His mother shouldn’t be home yet and she has her own set of keys.

With a sinking heart, Guan Shan pictures his landlord demanding payment.

Worse, he pictures He Tian. Before He Tian left, they’d resolved nothing. It feels like being back to square one, chasing each other around a chess board. It fills him with a vast emptiness that makes him feel like he’s existing outside of himself, waiting for someone else to take over.

He pads silently towards the front door, his toothbrush jammed into his cheek, and peers through the viewer. There’s toothpaste dripping down his chin. In the hall, there’s no one there. He’s half-convinced he imagined it. He counts to ten before he opens the door, steps out—and his foot connects with something hard. There is a cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat.

Guan Shan peers around. The light in the stairwell is artificially bright. He kneels down and opens the tabs on the box, which hasn’t been taped. He swallows.

For the fish, says the note on the second box, nestled inside the first. Careful, it’s fragile.

Guan Shan rubs the heel of a palm into his right eye. He sighs. Then he reaches out, braces himself, and picks up the tank. He carries it into his apartment, and the door locks behind him.

/

thank you for reading! if you’d like to support me on my ko-fi/request a short drabble, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/agapaic 💞

[phantomrose96]

Hero Syndrome

There’s a young woman who has admired the Symbol of Peace for her entire life.

She doesn’t remember the first time she saw him on television. He’s just always been there as an eternal, unshakable constant – a comfort through every part of her life – promising to save anyone who needs him. And he does save her, even if he doesn’t know it. Because it’s his laughter, his smile, his ease and assurance speaking about rescues that keeps the flame burning in her heart when she had nothing else to cling to. He is the guiding light for her life that had no other purpose in it.

She is ignited with an all-consuming drive to follow in his footsteps. And it is a drive that defines her more than her own name.

She wants to save people with a smile. She wants to pull people from the depths of despair. She wants to stand at the top of the world and say “It’s alright now, because I am here.” if only so she can pay him back for all the comfort he’s given her in her life.  

Posters of the Symbol of Peace find their way onto her walls, into her binders and desktop backgrounds. She joins no clubs so she can spend all her free time honing her quirk. She runs more, and lifts more, and trains more than anyone else. The future she imagines every day has her standing at his side, and it is a bright, bright future.

She doesn’t get into U.A.

As much as she prepared herself for it, the reality is crushing. She sobs into her bedspread when the rejection letter comes, and stops briefly to peel the posters off the walls first, so the Symbol of Peace cannot see her cry like this. Heroes shouldn’t cry. Heroes shouldn’t give up. She can’t either. Her 4th-choice school has sent her an acceptance letter, and she’ll make sure that’s still good enough. She vows to keep working harder than everyone at U.A. to make up for it.

She graduates from her hero course as valedictorian. She’s given a ten minute slot during graduation to present her speech, and the speech suddenly means nothing and everything to her when she learns her school managed to book the Symbol of Peace as the keynote speaker. The Symbol of Peace far upstages her, and she doesn’t even care. She’s spellbound all over, and savors the ghost of the tingle in her fingertips from the brief second they pass each other. He doesn’t know this, but the moments spent sharing the stage mean the entire world to her.

She takes another vow now, to share a stage with him again in the future, as a colleague. She vows to make this moment the starting line for the beginning of the rest of her life.

When she shows up to Slice’N’Dice’s hero agency on her first day as a debut sidekick, she’s met with a bare white-walled room of peeling paint. There’s a single sputtering fan in the corner pointed directly, and only, at Slice’N’Dice’s desk. She feels the sweat trickling down her neck already, the swampy humid air, the cicadas chirping behind her, as she stands there holding her hero uniform in a box.

“I’m very excited to be working with you,” she says with a full bow. Slice’N’Dice looks up from his desk, and grunts, and goes back to puffing on the loose cigarette hanging from his lips. He’s slumped in his chair, uniform loose-fitting around rather skeletal arms and ballooned around his distended waist. He’s unbuckled his belt, and pulls deeply from his cigarette, and tunes the dial on the crackling police scanner on his desk.

“You know how to make a pot of coffee?” he asks her.

On the third day of her sidekick career, they go on patrol. Her mom has washed and pressed her uniform for exactly this occasion. She feels hope bubbling in her stomach where a rock-like weight had sat before. She wonders what it’ll feel like to have eyes shift to her as she walks, what excited kids will tug on their parents’ sleeves and point, what it will really feel like to be on this side of the uniform.

Slice’N’Dice doesn’t take her to the streets of Tokyo. They meander through empty alleys and hot, putrid industrial backways. He stops at an outdoor storage unit, and unloops the keys from his unbuckled belt, and opens the unit. Inside are bikes. Dozens of them. Dented and rusted into disrepair. He pulls out two and walks them on either side of him, motioning her to do the same. She does.

“What are the bikes for?”

Slice’N’Dice grunts.

Ten minutes more of walking, and they are standing at the mouth of a neighborhood. The air carries the pungent scent of gasoline. Windows appear as broken glass and particle boards, nailed into place. The peeling paint along the apartment facades reminds her of the peeling paint in the office.

Slice’N’Dice props a bike against a lamppost. And he pulls a small metal lens from his pocket and affixes it to the post just above the bike. On his phone, he fiddles an app open, and she sees two green lights blink on the metal lens.

Slice’N’Dice moves on. He motions her to follow.

“Why are we leaving the bike?” she asks.

“Gonna catch some thieves.”

“With the bike?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re leaving it here.”

Slice’N’Dice shrugs. “Yeah? Ain’t telling anyone to steal it. That’s their problem.”

“You want it to get stolen?”

“We gotta resolve some incidents if we wanna get paid.”

“Then, let’s resolve some incidents for real!” She thrusts a hand out, motioning, nearly tipping and just barely catching the bike at her left side. “Let’s patrol Tokyo and stop actual crime that’s happening.”

Slice’N’Dice barks a laugh. “We don’t have a zoning permit to patrol Tokyo, are you nuts? Maybe if the 2,000 Tokyo hero agencies all go belly-up, and the other 20,000 on the waiting list drop dead too, then maybe we could stake out Tokyo.”

She falters. “We shouldn’t be creating crime. We’re heroes, that’s just--”

“431.” Slice’N’Dice holds a hand up to her, and he draws his words out, like all the smoke from his cigarettes. “I got 431 applications for sidekicks. If you’re gonna leave, leave. I don’t really care. I’ll take any of the other ones. I don’t care.”

She freezes, sick with ice in her stomach.

“…And why’d you choose me?”

“Top of the pile.”

Slice’N’Dice shuffles along. She stands rooted in place. She’d been one of only three people from her graduating class to have a sidekick offer lined up right out of school.

It had been because she’d worked hard – harder than everyone else – to be a hero. Because she – more than anyone – had dreamed of this future.

Slice’N’Dice coughs wetly. He pauses to spit into the street, and keeps on shuffling.

…

There is a young man who’s admired the Symbol of Peace for his entire life.

He’s grown up half-raising himself, enraptured by the glow of the television with the Symbol of Peace’s shining smile. It is a smile that could move mountains, and his is a laugh that could shake oceans.  The young man watched these interviews on repeat while his mother worked double-shifts through the night. Those interviews formed him, brought a flicker of hope into his small and hollow world, brought moments to his life where he did not mind the opportunistic roaches scuttling up the couch, nor the rattle of the leaking pipes overhead, nor the dense headiness of mold in the carpets. They showed him hope. They showed him a path forward.

The young man dreams every day of the life he’ll lead when he’s a hero as well. His mom won’t suffer anymore when he’s a hero. No kid will go to bed hungry when he’s a hero. He’ll smile like the Symbol of Peace smiles, and he’ll move the oceans and the mountains too.

The U.A. rejection doesn’t deter him. He knew it would be a rejection before he even received the envelope. Only 1 in 1,000 applicants get into U.A. anymore, and that number skews further out of his favor when considering the legacy admissions to U.A., and the recommended kids who’d been through expensive personal hero-training regimens, and the parents who could curry a bit more favor by offering to fund a new U.A. training ground.

The young man never stood a chance, and he knew it. He’s more motivated, if anything, by the rejection letter. He wants the chance to stand out as someone who can break the U.A.-to-Pro pipeline. He’ll start from lower, and he’ll rise above the rest, because it’s who he is at his core.

The rejection letters continue to roll in. His second, his third, his fourth choices – down to his fifteenth – all come in thin, thin envelopes, too thin to contain good news. This happens to a lot of people, he reads. The hero market is oversaturated, he knows. Caps on hero course enrollment are getting tighter, he understands. But to have every door shut on him almost shakes his hard-earned resolve.

His tenth-choice school informs him there is a General Studies slot open. They offer it to him, and he almost, almost takes it.

But the Symbol of Peace never gave up his dreams. So he won’t either.

The young man has a pamphlet on his desk for a for-profit hero school just 20 miles outside town. It boasts no enrollment cap, no admissions test, We believe everyone is capable of proving themselves through hard work! We do not let dreams die halfway! The only admission criteria is the price tag. It is steep, the kind of steep that his part-time jobs and meager savings could never cover.

There’s an old man running the backroom of the corner store who gives out loans. This man doesn’t ask for credit or credentials there. His loans are in cash, day-of, with few questions asked. The young man knows this because he works part-time at this corner store, and sees the steady stream of strung-out clients filtering in and out, wracking up debt, caught in a personal hell the young man vowed to never fall into himself. But these are the people he intends to help one day as a pro-hero. And sacrifice must become something he’s comfortable with if he ever hopes to live up to the Symbol of Peace.

During his next shift, the young man takes to the backroom, and lays out his terms while the old man breathes cigar smoke into his face, and he has the money in-hand before the end of the night.

He’ll likely have to pay it back two-fold – maybe three-fold -- in interest. The young man knows this, he is not dumb. But he also knows how lucrative the pro-hero business is for those at the top. The government payout for heroes is pittance, at best, but hero merch sales pay out in gold. The Symbol of Peace has been named among Japan’s top 100 wealthiest men for the last ten years.

He won’t tell his mother about the loan. He intends to pay the debt back before she ever finds out.

He enrolls. He pays the tuition fee. He’s given a class schedule, a uniform, a syllabus, a dormitory. He moves out, away from the roaches and the rats, and it is a dream. He sees the start of the rest of his life on the day that he and all his new classmates are welcomed to campus as up-and-coming heroes.

Two years pass when the for-profit hero school loses its accreditation.

He, and all other students, are informed in a single curt email from the administration. All staff are fired. All courses are canceled. All students have three days to vacate the dormitories. The school entity is dissolved, and there money is gone.

The world drops out from beneath his feet. He can’t take the provisional license exam without a hero institution behind him. He can’t apply to sidekick positions without a provisional license. He moves back home, and resumes his part-time job, and sends in ten applications a day to every hero course in the country that accepts transfer students. When all of them yield rejections, he focuses on applying to every internship listing he can find.

None of them want him. Not when the market is already oversaturated with applicants who have an actual hero school backing them.

Years pass around him in a blur. His every cent earned from the corner store job is immediately garnished to pay his debts that come due, and they hardly make a dent. The compounding interest builds as a rate that surpasses his pay. A lifetime of this work would never repay his debt.

The old man in the tattered wifebeater shirt calls him into the back room one day. The old man shows no malice in his sleepy eyes, but exudes a pressure the young man can only describe as blood-lust. He’s heard the man’s quirk is suffocation, and he prays that this is not the day he learns this first-hand.

“These numbers… are not trending in your favor,” the man says between long drags of the cigar in his hand.

“I know.”

“I’d like to know. How do you plan to pay me back for my generosity?”

“Hero work,” the young man answers, just as he did all those years back when he first negotiated for his loan. “I just need—”

“What hero agency is hiring these days?” the man asks. “So, so few, anymore. Hardly any, anymore.”

“I know.”

“I’m not optimistic for you, you know.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I just—” the young man jolts forward, pleading eyes boring into the old man. “I just need to catch one break! I just need one ‘yes’ to kick things off! I can handle everything after that. I just need your patience, until then, and then I’ll make good. I’ll make you whole.”

“I’m old,” the man says with another long drag of his cigar. “Old old old, and getting older. Money won’t be much good to me when I’m all too old and dead. We agreed on now… being when you paid me back what I gave you so kindly.”

“Please… I don’t have the money. But I’ll get it.”

“You will. You’ll earn it.” The man’s joints crack as he pushes to his feet, and hobbles into the cellar-dark back of the shop, and returns gripping a single weathered gun which he slides across to the young man. “Here. For your protection. You’re no good dead. Don’t try anything funny with it though, I’m faster than I look.”

The young man swallows. “…Why are you giving me a gun?”

“Because you’ll need it for the jobs I have for you.”

“Please… I have a job already. I work in this shop already.”

“I have many more jobs for you right now. You should be grateful. You’ve had so little luck with jobs. Take the gun.”

Hesitantly, reluctantly, the young man picks up the gun. It’s heavier than he expects. But just as cold as he imagined.

“I don’t want the gun…”

“You’ll need the gun.”

“I don’t…” he hesitates. “I don’t want to do your jobs. I don’t want to be a villain. I don’t—”

The old man wheezes out a laugh. Mirth cracks on his old face. “What even is a villain? Childish word.”

“The Symbol says—”

The young man’s breath freezes in his throat, and it is not of his own doing.

“Silence, now. You talk to much. Your mother talks too much too, about you. Shopping here, all the time, for you two. Chatter chatter chatter. I like to make people quiet. It’s good for my peace of mind.”

The young man exhales forcefully. His breath comes back in gasps. His world crushes in around him.

“Now, would you like to hear about the new jobs I have for you?” the old man asks.

The young man shuts his eyes tight, and he wills, prays, hopes for this to end. And nothing answers his prayers.

“…Yes, I’d like to hear about my new jobs,” the young villain answers.

…

There is a boy who has admired the Symbol of Peace his entire life.

He plays hero in the park with his two friends every day of elementary school, even through wind and rain and snow and scorching heat. Their games are squall rescues in the rain, and avalanche missions in the snow, and desert expeditions in the heat.

Those two friends are his only two friends. They go elsewhere for middle school, and he is left alone. And his every attempt to make new friends is squashed by the bullies that have found him to be such a deliciously easy target. He endures it, he accepts it, he channels all his hope and all his faith into the Symbol of Peace. The bullies’ words hurt less when he trawls through video playlists of interviews, and motivational speeches, and candid rescues. There is no hurt, and there is no danger, and there is no unfairness where the Symbol of Peace is involved. When the boy’s parents divorce, when his dog passes on, when his grandmother gets cancer, he watches the Symbol of Peace’s interviews on loop.

The boy stops bothering trying to make friends in middle school. The enormity of the task ahead of him is too much and too important for friends. He trains alone every day during recess instead, and after school, and into the night, and early in the morning. Every pull-up is another imaginary meter scaled in a mountain rescue. Every mile run with his weighted vest is a collapsed hiker carried out of the woods. Every deadlift is raising the roof from the victim of a hurricane. Every heat-exhausted quirk honing session is another life saved.

He’s sure to smile, every time, no matter what, because one day there will be real people he rescues who need to see that smile.

He is 12 when he buys a police scanner.

It’s not a real one. More like a repurposed ham radio, rigged up to the emergency response frequencies. He purchased the radio online from a man with the username radrigs89, and the purchase eats up most of the boy’s savings. He’s heartbroken when he finds the radio does not actually pick up signals.

But he doesn’t give up. Instead the boy pours all his free time into rigging it up properly himself. He needs this to work. Because he knows from the Symbol of Peace that a true hallmark of a top hero is having stories of bravery from their middle school days.

Three months after his purchase, he strikes gold.

The raspy speakers crackle out with police chatter. He sits enraptured in his room, idling away his Friday night listening for anything nearby. Anything he could get to on his bike. Any scene that would need his quirk. Most things that comes through are traffic infractions, or noise complaints, or incidents with heroes already at the scene. The boy decides to be patient. He’ll know in his gut when the right report comes through.

Just over a week later, at 10pm on a Saturday, there is a fire twelve blocks from his home.

He is on his bike from the moment the address is relayed over the radio.

The ride over is a blur. His fingers tingle. The building is an apartment complex. The police are at least fifteen minutes away by car. There are no heroes yet on the scene.

He takes the final left too hard and wipes out, bike skidding away horizontally beneath him. He bounces up to his feet and pays it little mind, because the air has spiked hot, because the red-orange light dances and reflects in his eyes, consuming the building, consuming his thoughts. It is like a heartbeat licking inside the windows, and it compels his body to move without his mind.

Residents are crowded in the street below, pajama-clad and chilled in the night air. And he spots her – a little girl, no older than five, gripping her mother’s nightgown and wailing. The little girl has practically gone limp, held up by her balled fists in her mother’s clothing, screaming “MY BUNNY! BUNNY! WE GOTTA GO GET BUNNY!! WE GOTTA SAVE BUNNY!!!”

“We’ll buy a brand new bunny after this, okay? I promise. Brand new bunny! We can get two bunnies who are friends, I promise. I promise.”

“NOIWANTBUNNY!!!!”

The boy races over, and he crouches to the girl’s level, and he smiles. “It’s okay now! I’m here! There’s no need to cry now. I can rescue your bunny. I have a quirk just right for this! Where’s your bunny?”

The little girl blinks through her tears. “My room.”

“What apartment?” the boy asks.

“No. Dear. No please, I promise we’ll get a new bunny!”

“2…. 2-J!” the girl answers.

“HEY WAIT!” the mother yells after him, but it is too late. The boy has turned heel and run. There’s fear in his heart, sure, but heroes fight through fear. There’s a voice in his head saying “turn back!” but he has to act without thinking if he wants to rise to the likes of the Symbol of Peace. The bunny. The bunny is a life worth protecting. The little girl’s smile is a smile worth protecting.

He bursts through the front door, and he curls his fingers to activate his quirk. A chill sweeps through the hallway, dragging the air from scalding to breathable. His internal temperature ticks up just a fraction.

The stairs, only one flight. He scales it, the white floral wallpaper glowing with am amber ambiance from the flames eating the scaffolding behind it. He rounds into the hallway where the heat claws into his throat once more. Another tensing of his fingers, another activation of his quirk, another gust of chilled air. He feels his brow grow hotter in recoil.

All doors have been flung open all along the hall, including the one marked with the 2-J plaque beside it. He wastes no time entering, and hesitates only a moment as the first bare sight of fire meets his eyes. The living room is consumed, the lemon couch scorched to half a skeletal frame, the television melted unrecognizable. Aerosolized plastics, wood, and fibers assault his throat, so hot he feels he is breathing in a solid mass. It reduces him to a fit of coughing, soot taking out his sight for the moment. His fist curls, a gust of cold air blasts through, and he is breathing again. Just a bit dizzier. His forehead burns independent of the flame.

Girl’s room. Little girl’s room.

It’s easy enough to find. Pink walls, a single twin bed with frills along the skirt, circular white rug plush and soft at the dead center of the room. It’s less hot in here, by a fraction. The fire hasn’t claimed it yet.

Cage. Bunny. Rabbit. Where?

He scans the length of the room in a second, and scans it again. He expects a cage at shelf-level, and when he sees none, he scans the floor for any sign of a pen. He steps over the threshold, growing more frantic.

“Bunny!” he calls out and feels foolish for wasting the breath.

Closet, maybe. He grabs the metal handle, and recoils when the heat bites him. He wads his hand in his shirt the second time around and yanks the door open. Clothes, hangers. He sweeps everything aside and stares at a floor of shoes. Sweat trickles down his neck in rivulets. Every article of clothing sticks to him. His mouth is drying.

He sweeps his hand out, tensed into a claw. Another swirl of cold air streams through the room. He feels it in his heart this time, a slight stutter, a hotness and redness along his cheeks. His internal temperature ticks up another fraction.

“Run,” the little voice in his head says. “You’ll over-exert your quirk. You know that’s dangerous. Run.”

But he can’t. Because heroes act without thinking.

There’s a creaking overhead. It starts low and slow, almost inaudible over the hum and crackle of the fire one room over. It crescendos to a groaning, and it steals the boy’s full attention right when it hits its breaking point.

The ceiling caves, just above the doorway. Lumber and drywall and embers pour down like sand. He dodges, just in time, throwing himself sprawling on the super-heated ground such that the collapsing rubble only claims his right ankle.

The floor is burning into him. He twists, staring at his foot, staring at the entrance to the room now blockaded with debris. The fire licks about the doorway, crawling with slow, opportunistic bursts.

His lungs hurt.

“…Freeze,” he wheezes out, fingers curling, another sweep of bitter cold air bursting through the room. The momentary relief is welcome, but the lingering swell of heat in his cheeks negates it. He sees the flames stutter, and hesitate, and crawl forward again.

“Freeze!” again. A blow of icy air. A buffeting of the flames. A scorch to his cheeks heating with the quirk recoil.

He yanks on his ankle, and the lumber pinning it shifts a fraction.

“Freeze!”

He looks forward, chin pressed to the carpet. He sees it now, one floppy ear peeking out beneath the bed skirt. The fraction of space between the skirt and the floor reveals a plush face in shadow, and he sees two beady glass eyes dancing with the reflection of flames.

He’s licked with a moment of nostalgia, for the days spent playing hero with his friends. Stuffed animals had played their rescue victims so many times before. The stuffed bunny is a welcome sight, almost, it fits right into the fantasy he’d spent so many years constructing.

The other pieces don’t fit. The air licks so, so much hotter than the pretend arson rescues. The smoke is so much more choking than the fantasies in his head. Even the heat training, with the heaviest vest weights, in the peak of summer, couldn’t compare.

The Symbol of Peace never seemed bothered, even in the worst of his rescues. The Symbol of Peace never failed. Somehow, the boy had never considered failure as a possibility. Heroes just needed the courage to act, and the rest followed.

“...Freeze.”

His fingers curl. The flames reel back like a scolded animal, but linger, curious, experimental, as if testing his resolve. His face is burning up. He can’t tell how high his fever has spiked, but it’s high enough to make him drowsy. His eyelids flicker, and flutter, and it would be so much easier to let them shut.

The flames catch him dozing off, as they crawl forward with courage.

Before his eyes shut, he remembers one important thing. He smiles at the bunny.

Its wide glass eyes reflect his smile back. And even when the boy’s eyes flutter shut, the bunny’s remain open, unblinking, unseeing, dancing in the flames.

…

The Symbol of Peace mounts the stage with slow, commanding steps. The crowd that’s gathered tips into the tens of thousands, and that is not even counting those redirected to the overflow area. The people right near the front of the stage have been camping in their spots for over a day.

The applause that meets him is uproarious. He raises a gloved hand to ask for quiet, and is met only with a crescendo of hollers. They settle, eventually, as he takes his position by the podium, as he sets one white-gloved hand to the stand, and raises the microphone to his mouth with the other. The audience hushes steadily, enraptured, eager for him to speak.

“I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out here today,” he says, and he says it with a voice that can shake oceans, and delivers it with a smile that can move mountains. “This day means a lot to me, more than I can put into words, to be so honored by all of you.” He taps the medal affixed to his chest. “To be receiving the highest honor I could have ever imagined receiving. The Lifetime Achievement in Heroics…”

Applause, stronger and more raucous than the first round, meet his ears. He lets it ring this time, while tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

“I would not be here without you! I would not be anywhere near this podium without the love and patience and inspiration from all the people who believed it me when I needed it the most. I would not be 15,000 rescues into my career, and I would not be the second person to ever receive this award, if I had been traveling this path alone.”

Hoots. Hollers. Screams of “WELOVEYOU!”

“And it’s actually that first recipient of the Lifetime Achievement award who I want to talk about today, with you all. Because this day is special to me for an entirely other reason. Today marks the anniversary of the day that man – that first recipient – All Might – told me the words that set me on the path to where I stand today.” The Symbol of Peace steps away from the podium, microphone still in hand, and moves to the very front of the stage. “ ‘You can be a hero, too.’ Those words. That single sentence. Changed my life forever. I would not be here. I would not be ‘Deku’. I would not be the Symbol of Peace without them.”

He pauses for another chorus of cheers, screams and applause and celebration. His smile spreads wide, his soft freckled cheeks dimpled and scrunched high, his messy hair falling over his forehead, and it is a look that has captured an entire nation’s heart.

“So I want to take this time I have in front of you all to return the favor All Might gave me all those years ago. This is for everyone who needs to hear these words! For everyone who needs someone who believes in them! For everyone looking to do right in the world. This goes out to you!” And he lifts his microphone up high. “YOU can be a hero too!”

The audience erupts unlike anything before. Their sounds consume the very air. Together, they drown out all other noise as Deku, the Symbol of Peace, clenches his fist high in the air.

Across the nation, children are watching the television broadcast. They are enraptured. They are bright-eyed. They are making plans for what they will say on stage once they stand beside him.

Once they are all heroes too.

[writteninkat]

i - your grandma must have been strong

word count: 2,007

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

index

You zipped your last luggage closed, huffing tiredly as you stood up. You looked around you- your empty room, your plain, pink walls that were once decorated with many posters and pictures, your floor that was once covered by a big fluffy white rug and some clothes and stuffed toys.

You sigh, smiling. You were surely going to miss this place. Your back tingles as you turn around to see your mother leaning on the door frame, looking at you with sad eyes.

"Do you have to go?" Her voice is soft and calming- it always has been. She's the only person who could ever calm you down especially when your father left the two of you to work at the Heroes Association in Japan.

"I want to be able to protect people. Children, women, the elderly... I wanna be someone people can depend on. Someone you can depend on." You place a hand on her arm which she covers with her own, he warm palm along with her soft smile about to send you to tears.

She nods, walking inside your room to help with your baggage. "The movers just finished loading up your other stuff. All we need is your excess baggage." She pushes the luggage towards the door, you mirroring her actions.

She cups both of your cheeks, looking you at you with adoring, glassy eyes. It's your first time being separated from your mother in you sixteen years of existence. The two have always been attached to the hip, you traveled everywhere together, even as the two of you had constant arguments you could never stay mad at each other for too long.

She was the only one you had.

"Stay safe in Japan, okay? If your father gave you a hard time, call me. I'll pick you up no matter what time it is, no matter where you are. I love you." She kisses your forehead and you finally let your tears fall as you wrap your hands around her thing wrists.

"I love you so much mom." You sob, hanging your head as your mother wrapped her arms around you. You hear a voice of a woman through the speakers, telling you your flight was taking off in a few minutes.

You quickly give your mother a kiss on the cheek before letting one of your guards assist you with your bags. You waved good bye to your mom and soon after, your trusted body guard.

You were on your way to Japan, to a new life, a new school, new friends and hopefully to reach your new goal: to prove yourself worthy of becoming a hero without your father's help.

You walk towards the giant gates of UA, taking a deep breath before finally taking a step inside the campus. Your heart thumped on your chest nervously as your palms began to prespire. You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to do anything with the teens around you as your only goal was to pass the entrance exam. You walked inside the building you were lead to, taking a seat at the very back in fear of attracting any unwanted attention.

"What's up UA candidates?! Thanks for tuning into me your school DJ! Just as your application said, today you will be conducting your exams in seven different locations! Your location has been assigned to you in the paper you were given." The loud blond man with long hair swept way to the back of his head announced, making you click your tongue. Not to be a mood buster, but isn't he being a little too loud?

You take the piece of paper he was talking about, eyes lower to read the letter that's written on it. Test Location: Battle Center C.

"Excuse me sir but I have a question." Your eyes fall to a purple-headed boy with glasses whose hand is raised. The blond teacher acknowledges him and he begins talking about how there are four villains in the paper you were given and not only three.

He then begins running his mouth about how a minor mistake such as this would be an embarrassment for a school such as UA. You scoff, muttering something about having a stick up his ass.

After the teacher ended his speech, you along with the other students began piling out of the room and to your designated battle centers. As you enter your specified location, you take out the black leather gloves from your pocket, wearing them. You clenched and unclenched your hands to make sure that it fit you well.

"Hey grandma." An unfamiliar voice catches your attention, unfortunately for you the rude nickname was directed towards you.

"Grandma?" You raise a brow, unsure what he meant by it.

"You white hair reminds me of my grandma's." He snickers, pointing at the white streaks of hair you have beside either sides of your face as a few other students chuckling behind him. He looks plain, very, very boring. "Why don't you give up on this exam, grandma? Your knees may start hurting."

The signal went off and the robots began moving behind you. As you kept a straight face, your hands begin glowing a blinding white light as a black with blue and silver accent claymore appears in your hands. You run to your left, applying your speed quirk as you ran towards the gigantic robots, swinging your sword vertically.

The slash creates the same blinding white light, the robots, the buildings and concrete ground that the light touches all disintegrating into nothing. You speed into the other robots, stealing the targets of other students as you accumulated your points. Once you finish and only a few robots are left, you return to your spot to where the plain-looking boy along with his little friends were still standing at, jaws hanging eyes blown wide.

"You grandma must have been very strong."

"I got in." You say into your phone and you hear your mother squeal in delight from the other end of the line. A smile breaks into your face and you feel your phone vibrate, signaling a new notification. As you pull your phone away to see what it is, your eyes widen in surprise as you read your notification banner.

'Mom' sent you $100.

"Mom what the heck is the money for?" You chuckle. "I'm not there with you but I want you to celebrate getting into UA. So go use the money and spoil yourself."

"Mom you don't have to-"

"Okay, mom mode off. I demand you go and award yourself eith the money I sent you." Your mom's tone switches from soft and caring to cold and demanding, making you chuckle. "That doesn't suit you at all." You laugh, you can practically /hear/ your mom pout at the other line.

"Okay, okay. I'll do as you say. Thank you, mom. I love you."

"I love you more my baby."

The call ends and you change out of your usual sweats and oversized tee. You put on a black spaghetti strap and high-wasted mom jeans. You hoop in a black belt and fold the ankles of your pants to show your white sock inside your checkered vans. You finish the look with medium-sized hoop earrings and a oversized red zip-up jacket which you leave unzipped with one shoulder hanging off.

You step out of your apartment, pocketing your keys and taking a deep breath in. Japan is just so beautiful, the scenery, the buildings, even the weather was perfect. You strut down your apartment building, scrolling through your phone as you searched for cafes nearby. It was a five minute walk of calm and relaxing vibes. You step into the cafe, eyes darting around the adorable cottage-core aesthetic it had going.

"Hey my name is Mio. What can I get for you this lovely afternoon?" The cashier beams brightly, your day becoming better and better with every move you make. "I'll have a strawberry shortcake as well as a strawberr frappe with extra foam, strawberry syrup and strawberries." You beam back at her and she takes your order with a bright smile, tapoing away on the computer's screen.

"Does your life depend on strawberries or something?" A rough and deep voice asks behind you, causing you to turn around. Once you do, your eyes widen at the sight of a young blond with vermilion eyes. He looked around your age.

"I like strawberries. Is it that big of a sin?" You ask, soft smile across your face as you cross your arms together. The guy had such piercing eyes, those red orbs looked like they could trap you in them forever.

"Not what I'm saying, but if you're that much of a strawberry fan, I recommend their strawberry pop tarts." His eyes drop to the display fridge beside you and your eyes follow his, landing on the adorable little tarts with red jam on top of them.

Just as you were about to order them, the cashier speaks up. "Your total is 1,500 yen." She smiles brightly, making you pout. You didn't want to cause more trouble for her seeing as your bill has already been printed by the machine.

You scan their QR code, paying virtually as she hands you your buzzer. "We'll give you a signal whrn your order is ready. You can find a seat and wait there thank you!"

You turn around at the blond who's looking at you expectantly, "I guess I'll have to try your recommendation some other time." You smile at him, walking off to the table catering two chairs. It was seated at the far back of the cafe, away from the many customers the cafe had.

You began scrolling through your social media, liking the posts of your past classmates and chuckling at some memes you saw.

A plate full of the same tarts with red jam is placed on your white table and you didn't have to look to see who it was. "Is this you way of flirting with me, rubies?" You ask, looking up at him with a teasing, smug smile. His face contorts into annoyance, "Hah? Flirting with you?" He scoffs, "Not a chance. And who're you calling rubies?"

"Your eyes remind me of rubies. They're pretty."

The blond's face relaxes and you push the seat across from you, silently telling him to sit down. He does as 'told', huffing as he watches you pick of a tart and bring it over to your lips. You bite on it, eyes widening as the flavor explodes in your mouth. It tastes sweet but not the sickeningly sweet kind, it's soft soft in the inside and lightly crunchy on the outside.

"You look like you just ate food made by gods." He chuckles, "You look dumb."

"But it really does taste so good!" You've never felt this much excitement since you found out you got into UA. And that speaks a lot given that you've only ever felt this kind of feeling with your mom.

"I should have bought the entire stock if I knew you liked it that much." Your heart skipped at his words. What is this feeling? You felt nervous all of a sudden, you can barely contain your smile and somehow, you didn't want to go home yet. This is a very new feeling for you. It's kind of... scary.

"I'm L/n."

Idiot. Stop it.

"L/n Y/n." You extend your hand towards him which he looks at for a few moments before taking. You shake both of your hands with a soft smile, your thoughts going haywire at how soft his palms feel.

"Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou."

You pull your hand away, finishing the last piece of strawberry pop tart on your plate before your buzzer turns on. You pick it up, standing up. "Thanks for the tarts. See you around, rubies."

"Call me that one more time and I'll blow your face up."

You snicker, smirking. "Whatever you say, rubies."

[derireo]

the workaholic ↦ tsumugi, tasuku, itaru, izumi

There was a reason why Izumi worked so hard.

A look into Izumi's self-worth and repressed memories.

「 3.3k words 」

cw: angst, hurt (no comfort), family issues. can be connected to my same age troupe series but doesn’t have to be.

Izumi didn't really like staying at home anymore.

Not after her dad left and her mom had to start juggling more jobs in order for them to have a few meals a week while on top of that paying for their bills.

She'd stay a little longer at school, hang around the lonely alleyways and shortcuts that ran along the neighbourhood, sit inside convenience stores until evening.

Just so that she wouldn't have to go back to an empty home.

Her passion for the things she used to love died out too, and she eventually quit her extracurriculars, including her theatre class.

She was grateful that she learned how to care for herself when she was young, but it was tiring. She didn't have enough clothes to wash when her mom rarely came home. There was no point in using the dishes if she was the only one eating. And if it meant saving more money, she wouldn't even turn the lights on in any of the rooms. Not even the washroom.

There were very few times when her mom would be able to spend the night at home with her, but again, there were few.

Izumi wanted to feel happy, seeing her mom's face, but it was hard when she always looked so tired. So angry.

They rarely talked when her mom was home, but Izumi would still cook her dinner and clean her room before she'd tuck in for the night.

And there were just some times when Izumi didn't want to be in her presence at all.

"You never do anything in this house." Her mom said one night in passing as Izumi was gathering their empty bowls.

The sentence caught Izumi off guard, making her pause in her ministrations. She looked up from the table to look at her mom in curiosity, and was met with an aggravated frown.

"All you do is stay out late and eat all the food that I work hard to put on the table." She complained quietly, tapping her finger against the wood that they sat at. "I don't recall you ever doing anything for this house."

"Mom, I–" Izumi's laugh was one out of pure disbelief, but her mother didn't let her finish.

"You're so useless.. You do nothing all day and complain about school and how you're always tired. You don't do anything. I'm the one working three jobs, for Chrissake." Her mom laughed in turn and ran a hand through her hair, standing up from the table with an exhausted shake of her head.

"I have work tomorrow. I'm leaving at four." She finished, standing to leave for her room. "Ungrateful brat."

And well; Izumi couldn't really say anything anyways. She took in a breath and made her way to the sink after she heard a door shut, a cold chill slowly running up her spine.

Her mom wasn't wrong. She wished she could do more, really.

"Welcome! Is this a job application?" A middle aged man bowed towards Izumi who held a neat folder for him to take, nodding her head to answer his question.

He opened the folder as Izumi clutched the strap to her schoolbag tightly. The man squinted at the few things on her resume and scratched his neck, offering Izumi an uneasy smile when he handed the file of papers back to her.

"You have all the traits we're looking for in a new employee," he said kindly, "but I fear you're too young for me to hire. I couldn't give you night shifts and graveyard like you asked anyway."

Izumi sighed, having already known the outcome. But she just couldn't let it go.

"I need this job." She said quietly, bunching the strap she held in her hand with a death grip. "I want to help ease my mom's burden."

And as much as she didn't want to use the guilt card, she really wanted the job. If it gave her an excuse not to be home, she'd gladly take it.

There was a frown, a pinch of the nose, and a sigh.

Suddenly, Izumi was being asked for her folder again and she quickly gave it back, her sad, doe eyes slowly regaining a bit of light.

"I'll send an email if I manage to get you the job." The middle aged man sighed once more, waving off a surprised Izumi who nearly shouted. "..Now go home."

"Thank you, Mister!" She saluted, regaining some newfound energy she never knew she had.

And with that, for the first time in months, did she go home before sunset.

She got the email a few days later during class. She was opening and closing her fliphone with a bored expression on her face as her teacher went to explain the difference between kanji and hiragana.

> From: xxxxx.@gmail.jp – I got you the job. Training starts next week at 4pm.

Izumi almost shouted. Almost.

What she did do was drop her phone in surprise, her legs jolting up and clambering against her desk. The loud noise obviously disturbed everyone around her and she floundered when her teacher glared.

"Something interesting happening over there, Tachibana?" He grouched with a frown, to which the classmates around her either giggled or whispered as she fumbled to grab her phone from the floor.

Her smile was elated, but at the same time panicked, and she shook her head in denial. Shoving her phone into her skirt pocket (that she had to sew in herself), Izumi straightened her tie.

"No, Sir. Just a rat startling me."

And like many other times, Izumi was the starter of chaos, everyone in the room beginning to panic at the idea of having a real rat inside of the school.

The class ended with all of the desks in disarray, and a flustered Izumi bowing in apology to her teacher who had his arms crossed.

And Izumi absolutely loved her job. Although it was busy on weekdays because students would visit after school, she loved the rush; she loved feeling like she was doing something.

She loved the feeling of being useful.

Time would fly by as if she was only working for an hour so; sometimes she wouldn't even want to leave once the next worker would come in for their shift.

She was a fast learner too, and her manager, that middle aged man, would watch with an impressed expression on his face.

Graveyard shift was another thing, but if it meant Izumi wouldn't have to be stuck home alone with her thoughts, she'd take any day they had to offer.

It was a boring shift, usually receiving visits from overworked business men or the occasional drunkard who needed something to sober up.

There were a few times where she'd have customers who were around her age; kind of odd, but at the same time not really.

There was one guy her age who would visit at around midnight to three in the morning, and a duo that would come by at six-thirty sharp.

"Energy drinks again? Chigasaki-san." She would scold the boy who donned a pair of glasses and their school's tracksuit.

His visit was always quick, and he never opened his mouth to speak to her after the night he introduced himself that one time.

"I see Takato-san has dragged you out again." She would comment when the two boys would stalk in; the taller one buying water bottles while the blue haired one would eat a breakfast snack.

The interesting thing with this duo was that, the blue haired boy would stay inside and accompany Izumi while the other would perform his daily morning jog; something that the young girl found distasteful.

"Are you sure you'll be okay going to school?" The boy would ask her every day he visited. He found out that when Izumi did graveyard shifts on a Sunday or weekday, she would head to school right after, not even bothering to take a nap or a break.

And to put the blue haired boy's mind to rest, the other friend would walk in; barely having broken a sweat: "We can walk her there. Let's go."

And this duo– she thought she would forever be grateful for them. They took care of her whenever she was barely able to herself; walking her home after they finished their classes at their own school and helping her with her assignments before forcing her to go to sleep on the days she didn't have graveyard.

But the thing was, when she met those three again while trying to revive the theatre her father left neglected, she didn't seem to remember any of them.

Meeting Itaru Chigasaki again was like meeting him for the first time, and he was surprised, but at the same time not. With how often he visited her konbini back then, maybe he would have stuck in her subconscious, but, maybe not. He didn't try to make conversation with her back then anyways so he couldn't blame Izumi for anything.

Meeting Tasuku Takato and Tsumugi Tsukioka again was much the same for her.

Tsumugi was devastated that she couldn't remember them, and Tasuku, annoyed.

"Oh. I don't really remember anything that happened during my high school days." Izumi had said in passing one afternoon when Muku asked her if she had experienced anything similar to the story of Ouran High School Host Club.

There was an incredulous gasp from Muku, saying that it shouldn't be possible. High school was probably a significant time in your life when you were still young!

"I just remember working and studying a lot. And I rarely stayed at home?" She answered him with a question and frowned, scratching her head. "It kept me busy because the house was always empty and I had nothing better to do."

"Eh? So then how did you get back into theatre?" Tenma asked from his side of the couch, squinting at Izumi through the sunglasses he didn't bother taking off after coming home.

"When Sakyo gave me no other choice but to save the company."

"But there was also the letter that Matsukawa sent, right?" Sakuya piped up, tilting his head. "I feel we would have been in a lot of trouble if she never got it."

"Yeah, I don't even remember what I was doing before I got that letter, honestly. It had nothing to do with theatre that's for sure." Izumi scratched her cheek.

Speechless, Tasuku plopped himself down in the chair that sat beside Izumi's side of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Do you remember anything between the ages of fifteen and nineteen?" He inquired, frown etched onto his face as both he and Tsumugi shot each other a look from either side of the room.

Itaru chewed at his granola bar with an unreadable expression on his face, but secretly anticipated Izumi's answer just like everyone else.

"Not really." She responded slowly, looking over at the man who sat beside her. Tasuku huffed out a breath; already giving up on receiving a satisfying answer.

"Do you remember any friends from high school?" Tsumugi inquired next, resulting in an excitable nod from Muku who had regained his energy.

Izumi frowned.

"I didn't have any."

Itaru sighed; feeling like they were going nowhere with all of this nonsense and beating around the bush.

"Yes you did." The blond argued albeit not as aggressive as he wanted to.

He couldn't be upset or annoyed when he didn't even try to become friends with her back then. He recalled the many nights he ignored her after their first meeting, never looking into her eyes as she tried to start a conversation with him.

But even if he wasn't her friend, he at least knew that Tasuku and Tsumugi were. He'd see them walk her to school every single morning and watch as they'd tentatively walk away as Izumi got scolded for the umpteenth time for arriving so late.

Izumi fell silent at Itaru's response and awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest; becoming defensive at his tone.

"How would you know?" She tried to keep her voice level, but she sounded small and embarrassed.

Tenma, Muku, and Sakuya began to frown at this new side of the director.

Tsumugi decided to pipe up at this time, eager to let the attention on the director snap towards him.

He gripped at his wristwatch with meekness riddling his features as he spoke. "Tasuku and I were your best friends in high school."

And then the lounge room went silent.

Tasuku visibly relaxed in his seat once the cat was out of the bag, and the three younger members with them whipped their heads to look between the Winter Pair in shock.

Izumi's face warmed.

"That isn't right." She shook her head and shrunk into the couch; still in disbelief. If that were the case, she wouldn't have said she didn't have any friends in the first place.

She wasn't exactly the best person to be around in high school and she always struggled to be interesting. How could she have friends when all she did was work, work, work?

How could she have friends when it felt like she'd been alone her whole life?

It...didn't make sense.

Not to Izumi at least.

"I didn't have time to make friends." She murmured, wrapping her arms around herself to get rid of the sad chill that crawled up her arms. "And the ones I had before left me when I quit theatre."

Tasuku pinched his nose between his fingers while Itaru flipped his phone in his hand several times, Tsumugi watching the gears turn in Izumi's head only to end up with them stuttering and breaking down.

Was she only remembering the bad things? Or was she repressing memories that she didn't want to remember?

...Did she want to forget them?

Tsumugi anxiously tapped his fingers against his knee. "You don't remember us."

"I don't think I've ever seen you two before I came to Veludo." Izumi twisted her fingers in the fabric of her sleeves. "Itaru made it sound like we knew each other too which is weird."

To Tsumugi it seemed like her brain was refusing access to this specific part of her life; the memories so heavily blocked that she couldn't retrieve them. Couldn't remember them.

Her high school days were so bad that she grew to learn how to send them all the way to the back of her mind; never to be seen again.

It was like she was experiencing repressed memory...

And, well, Tsumugi understood the severity of that at the very least.

Tasuku and Itaru on the other hand couldn't understand.

They couldn't find themselves to.

"I don't think there's a point to this conversation anymore." The violet eyed man resigned with a hint of aggravation swirling around his tone.

It looked like he was seething from where he sat beside Izumi, strong arms curled around his chest as his glaring eyes stared at Tsumugi who had an expression full of sadness.

"If it was that easy to forget us after all those years spent together then I don't want to hear anymore of this."

Tsumugi could feel the hairs on his arm stand at the icy tone lacing Tasuku's voice.

"Just let her explain why—"

"Why? Why what?" Tasuku tittered. His blood was starting to boil; he could feel the steam coming out of his ears.

It was unfair. Along with Tsumugi he spent four years taking care of Izumi only for her to forget them? Those early mornings and late nights they spent with her to make sure she was staying alive wasn't enough to have them ingrained in her brain?

She was ungrateful enough to forget all they had done for her? Feed her meals, keep her company, help her forget that she was alone?

She was like family to them. Was it not the same for her?

If she left the company, would she forget them a second time?

They never knew where she went after graduation.

"She was barely able to do anything back then. Who helped her pass sciences, math, and the like? Who helped her in literature? Comprehension?" Tasuku listed off angrily, unable to notice the way Izumi was shrinking in her seat while at the same time staring off into space.

It was like her ears were filled with cotton.

"Who carried her home every single night when she was barely able to stand from exhaustion? Who fed her meals to make sure she wasn't starving?" The Winter Troupe member continued, vision going red with anger as he remembered all of the times a limp Izumi would hang off his back.

Remembered the tears that would stain the back of his uniform.

He shook his head.

"I've never met someone so damn ungrateful. She would've been useless without us, Tsumugi." The exasperation in his voice was clear.

Izumi pursed her lips, ears picking up the words like she was resurfacing from a huge body of water.

"Tasuku." Tsumugi scolded—

Useless. Izumi mused.

His anger was understandable. If what all that Tasuku had said was true, she couldn't blame the betrayal and hurt they felt.

But as much as she wanted to remember, she couldn't pick anything up from her high school days.

What else could she remember other than the feeling of coming back to an empty home and a mother who ignored her existence?

...Tasuku was right.

But it still hurt.

She tried to ignore the words Tasuku was spewing in order to save herself, but it was futile.

She was useless for not being able to remember.

She was useless for not doing anything.

Useless for doing everything she could and it still not being enough.

What even was considered enough?

Stop thinking.

The empty house. The molding walls. The lonely bed.

Her mother—

Fuck! Just snap out of it.

"Er...Sorry." She laughed to cover up the fact that she was on the verge of tears. She shook as she struggled to get off the couch. Her sudden apology made Tasuku stiffen as Tsumugi and Itaru watched their director with shocked expressions.

The weight of the situation suddenly felt real. Very real.

Should— should they look away? Tenma, Muku, and Sakuya had already left once Tasuku went on his mini rampage because they were terrified of what was to come.

So it was only the four adults left.

"I just remembered something." She pointed her thumb behind her in the direction of the hallway, smiling as she did so. "I'm backstage crew for this theatre's rehearsal tonight, so... I have to go get ready."

She bowed deeply to the three men who sat there in stunned silence, profusely bending her body so that she wouldn't show her face as she backed away, only swiftly turning around when she reached the hallway.

"I'll offer her a ride." Itaru spoke up after a good minute of silence and stood up from his spot on the couch.

Silence blanketed the lounge room like a cloud wrapping around an airplane once the blonde left to grab his keys from mini table beside the stairs.

Tasuku brought his hand to his face to hopefully wipe away the stress that was riddling his features.

The rattle of Izumi's own keys were heard down the hallway, footsteps rushed as papers rustled in her hands while she bolted towards the stairs.

"Izumi, I can drive—" Itaru murmured once her hand reached the railing of the stairs, but was interrupted by her wavering voice.

"I don't need it. I'll be fine." She laughed a little, just to ease Itaru's worries if he had any but refused to look him in the eye as she walked down the stairs. "I'll call, if anything."

Itaru twirled his keys back into his palm and cleared his throat. Yeah, that's fine.

"Stay safe." He called out in his soft spoken voice.

"Yeah." Came her response, then the sound of the front door slamming shut.

He shuffled towards the kitchen window not too long after, to see Izumi sprinting down the street with a teary grimace.

Huh. He recalled a time when he came across a similar expression up on the school's rooftop.

But he had left her there just as quick as he had come.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

This Christmas (pt1)

John Wick x Reader. A John Wick AU. (A/n- Just a tiny, five part Au where John is Y/n’s boss.)

Masterlist  

Warnings- none

New York Y/n’s desk was probably the most obvious give away that Christmas was her favorite holiday of all time. She had everything; from tinsel running cheerfully around the edges and a tiny tree in one corner, to a little snowman figurine and a decorative jar of striped candy canes. That year, she’d even put out extra to buy a little Santa Claus figurine to greet everyone coming out of the elevator. The rest of the floor hadn’t really caught on though, her boss was never one to get into the holiday spirit anyways. But Y/n didn’t mind, she probably had enough for them both. 

That morning, three weeks before the big day, she was sitting at her little station in the waiting room, tapping away on her computer, contentedly working her way through everything John had assigned her as she hummed in time with the Christmas carols wafting through her ear buds, loud enough for her to enjoy it though not so much so as to hamper her from hearing if the phone would ring. A classic had just started up, and like the others, Y/n had committed it to memory and was completely ready to get in tune with Mariah Carey when a knocking on the upper part of her receptionist’s desk roused her attention. It was Robert, the company’s head of marketing, flashing her a winning grin as he leaned forward on the matted grey surface. “I see our Christmas queen strikes again,” he gave her area a once over, his smile not wavering.

“That she has,” Y/n returned, beaming. Robert was a friend, a good one and he never let the vast differences in their positions at the company get in the way of inviting her to drinks with other board members or taking the extra elevator ride to bring her coffee whenever he could. “Do you like it?” Removing her ear buds, Y/n shifted her keyboard to give herself some room to fold her elbows on the desk.

“Like it?” Robert furrowed his brows, “I love it! You should come over and help me decorate,” when Y/n rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion, he clarified, “I’m being serious! You won’t have to do any of the heavy lifting, I swear, I’d be grateful for just your direction.”

Giggling, Y/n leaned back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest, “Can’t you pay someone to do all that Rob? What do you need me for?”

“I guess I could,” he shrugged, depositing a colorful gift bag with crepe paper sticking out at the top in front of him, he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets, “But it won’t be the same. I’m pretty clueless with…..making sure things flow so perfectly,” he gestured to the way she’d dressed up her station; just enough to show off the spirit, though not in a gaudy, over the top way, “But I like to get involved, you know? Please say you’ll come. I may not be able to decorate like a pro, but my hot cocoa is awesome.”

Leaning in conspiringly, Y/n held her chin in her palm, “Are you trying to bribe me with amazing cocoa that I’ve never tasted?”

“I am,” his voice dropped an octave, and when Robert leaned in towards the desk, he spoke in a whisper, “The secret’s whiskey.”

“Ohh,” Y/n mused, “Very tempting, can you do Saturday?”

“I most definitely can.” just as they continued to make plans, out from the hallway, came their boss, and CEO of the company, John Wick. It was hard to not notice him, considering he seemed to have this air about him that attracted all eyes the minute he walked into a room. He was just…..magnetic. “Y/n,” he teased, “You didn’t tell me the Grinch was in.”

From her usual perch, Y/n stuttered, unlike Robert, she was afraid of what would happen if John felt insulted by a harmless joke. He was an asset to the company, of a high caliber, but her? She was just an assistant. Thankfully though, John didn’t give her a moment to speak before speaking up, shaking his head, “Don’t you have work to do Rob? Things to finalize before the conference.”

“It’s three weeks away,” Robert defended, taking on a bothered expression. He turned to John, leaning against the lip of the desk and crossing one ankle in front of the other. Likewise, John neared the pair, lingering closer to the edge, laying a large palm on the cool top, not yet regarding Y/n.

“Only three weeks,” John emphasized with a heavy sigh, “Did you really just come up here to bother my secretary? Cause if you don’t, Y/n does have work to.” 

“I can see that,” Robert nodded towards the thick planner laid out next to her computer, right next to several papers and little notes reminding her of all the things she had to get done. Buy gifts for everyone on John’s very long yet impersonal list, schedule flights to England for the conference, book him a hotel room, organize his calendar and set appointment dates. And that was barely a quarter of it. By the rate things were going, Y/n was beginning to wonder if John was even going to take Christmas day off. “You’ve got her burning the midnight oil.”

“It’s eleven am,” John noted gruffly. In her three years of working under him, Y/n had never once heard the man crack a joke, or laugh for that matter. He was so serious that often, Y/n would wonder if he even smiled. Maybe that's why he looked so good for a man nearing fifty. That, and the real possibility of him having a fancy home gym. “Maybe it’s time to get back to your office Robert.”

“Right,” Robert fought a frown, only to turn back to Y/n as he picked up the gift, “Just one more thing,” as he looked at her, he smiled again, holding the bag out to her, “I got you this Y/n.”

Scoffing a delighted laugh, Y/n retrieved the present, “No fair, you’re early. I haven’t even had time to get your gift yet.”

“This isn’t your Christmas present,” Robert gestured for her to unveil his gift, “Open it, come on.”

“Alright, fine. But if it's not- oh my god!” Gasping loudly, her jaw hung slack and Y/n held up the ceramic mug that had been secured inside. It was rounded and painted to look like a gingerbread man wearing a scarf, and it had even come equipped with a candy cane spoon. “Rob,”  standing abruptly, disregarding her boss eyeing their exchange, “I love it,” Y/n walked around to meet him on the other side, immediately pulling him into a warm hug, “Thank you!”

“I knew you would,” he grinned as they pulled apart, “I should probably get back now though. But I’ll call you tonight so we can talk about Saturday.”

“Sounds great!” Waving as Robert retreated towards the elevator, she gave her new mug another look, “I can’t wait to use this,” Y/n noted, more to herself, only catching John staring at her when she looked up once more, “I’m sorry Mr. Wick, is there something you needed? If its about your flight plan, I’m calling the agency this afternoon so-”

“You know we have a no fraternization policy, right?” He cut her off, straightening his back and cutting her a stern look.

“I….uh….You mean…..” Looking between John and her opened present, Y/n furrowed her brows, confused. Of course, Robert was perhaps one of the most eligible bachelors, besides John himself, at the company; he was attractive, charming and quite the gentleman. But Y/n had never even thought of viewing him in a romantic light, they were friends and nothing more. “That was…..that was nothing,” she waved the thought off, “Robert is just a good friend. He probably just saw that while he was shopping or something. We do that kind of thing all the time.”

Humming his response, John kept his head held intimidatingly high. He always seemed so much bigger than her and Y/n could never decide whether or not it was thrilling or frightening. John himself was quite the looker, dark hair, dark eyes and enthrallingly mysterious. Even on a regular day he looked like he belonged on the posters for some high end brand or the other. “I need you in my office,” already, he was walking off and Y/n was left scurrying to match his long strides in her heels.

“What is this about?” Breathless as John shut the heavy door behind them, Y/n tried to right herself as she went before his desk. The large room, with dark porcelain floors and hardwood walls, accented by elegant furniture was familiar territory and Y/n knew it almost as well as she knew her own apartment. Papers on the right of his desk were dealt with, the ones on the left weren’t. There was an integrated mini refrigerator among the cabinets and he kept an extra suit, custom Tom Ford cause he never wore anything but, in the closet where he kept his coat. Come to think of it, Y/n probably knew more about John than anyone else in that entire building,

“Its about the conference,” coolly, he sank into his imposing leather chair, gracefully scooting towards his imported, mahogany desk. “It’s good that you haven’t called the agency yet, cause now you’ll be booking three tickets; you’re coming too.”

Stammering, Y/n’s eyes went wide with surprise. That wasn’t right, that wasn’t right at all. She was supposed to have Christmas week off, so she could fly home to be with her family, but that wasn’t really possible if John would be taking her across the pond for a conference filled with stuffy, middle aged people with too much money and no one to spend it on. “Mr. Wick…..I…..I already applied for that week off.”

“No you didn’t, you never submitted an application,” he didn’t even look at her, firing up his laptop and probably ready to be done with the matter.

“Yes, I did,” frenzied, and panicked, Y/n looked to his desk, where, lo and behold, her application for time off sat on among the smaller pile of paperwork, the one on the left side. But that was impossible, she’d given it to him weeks ago! “It’s right there,” she pointed accusingly to where it had been sticking out from beneath some investment proposal or the other. 

Snatching it up, John scanned the pages before swearing under his breath. It was the first time she’d ever seen him so bewildered. “Y/n,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “I’m sorry it must have gotten mixed up in the hustle.”

“I….” She wanted to argue, tell him that an apology wouldn’t make up for keeping her away from her family. Y/n wanted to yell that she’d be taking the week off anyway. But she couldn’t. Not just because he was her boss, but because he was John, who despite his very hardened exterior, had earned himself a soft spot in her heart. Y/n cared for him, in a way she probably shouldn’t have and the thought of bailing when he needed her wasn’t one she could entertain. “It’s okay,” forcing a smile and biting back tears, she blinked quickly, “I guess I should get to planning our flights.”

“Y/n-” he began, but it was too late, Y/n had already turned on her heel and was moving towards the door, swiping hastily at her eyes before she could listen to him say anything else. 

Three Weeks Later Despite being separated merely by six inches in the car ride to the airport, Y/n swore that she could feel John's heat radiating, seeping through her thick layers. It was both an exciting and uncomfortable experience. On one hand, being that close to him almost had her giddy; feeding the school girl crush she'd developed on her boss. While on the other, things felt clumsy and tense; he didn't seem interested in talking,  she didn't know what they could possibly talk about besides work and sharing an hour long car ride and six am was plain out awkward. Still, they’d made it through in almost complete silence. 

Even at the airport, whilst walking to where they had agreed to meet Robert at the waiting area in anticipation of their flight, John had stayed silent and Y/n felt something of a dead limb walking beside him. He was always quiet and, like clockwork, as the year dwindled down, he seemed to grow even colder, as New York’s winter resided inside him. Usually, Y/n tried to not to let it get to her, but they were going to spend the week together; she’d given up family time for work and his silence was making her feel a bit lonely. Her only glimmer of hope for some good, warm company had been in Robert, even if Y/n got the feeling that John wouldn’t be giving them too much time together.

The chill between them lingered all the way through, though, when they all met up, things were uncharacteristically different. Immediately upon greeting each other, Y/n had instinctively pulled Robert into a hug, standing on the tip toes of her suede knee-highs so she could loop her arms around his neck, staying like that until John cleared his throat. When Y/n pulled away, she rubbed her gloved hands together, glancing at John, not really knowing what to feel when she looked at him and consequently looking away quickly. “ Uh…” checking her phone, Y/n exhaled shakily; there was still quite a bit of time left and the thought of having to spend it with both Robert and John was unnerving. She knew he wasn’t exactly a fan of their friendship, though, she could never tell why and without having to ponder on it, Y/n  had already known that they were in for a long morning.

“Why don’t we head over to the lounge, get some drinks?” John filled the silence, causing Y/n to snap her head up and look directly at them. John wanted to grab drinks, with them? When she finally gathered the courage to face him, she found that John was looking directly at her, as if he were really only seeking her response.

Staring back at him, as she always did, Y/n found it hard to not lose herself in those dark pools, so endless that she might have drowned if she wasn’t too careful. The request was simple and impersonal, but still very unlike the John she’d grown to know. “Okay,” forcing herself to nod and simultaneously shifting her gaze back to Robert who now stood beside her, Y/n agreed, “We can do that. But it’s a little early, don’t you think?”

“It’s the airport, Y/n,” Robert teased lightly as he nudged her shoulder, “Besides, it's already noon in London, so technically, you’re just…….pre-assimilating.”

Battling an amused grin, Y/n rolled her eyes, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as she prepared to start moving towards the lounge, “That’s not a real thing.”

“Technically it is, I mean, Hardy made up words all the time and no one did anything about that. You,” he emphasized pointedly, “Love Hardy.”

“Hardy is a timeless, literary genius. You are a marketer from New York, it’s clearly not the same,” she laughed. She could tell that Robert was about to add something more, though, when John interrupted them, sternly urging them to move along, he dropped the matter, instead insisting that he take one of her bigger bags. “Oh, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to,” he said, claiming one of her carry ons before she could protest any further. “We should get going, before Scrooge over here loses it.”

“You’ve gotta stop that,” Y/n admonished before they set off, “You’re gonna get fired or something.”

“I’m not gonna get fired, relax-”

“If you kids are finished,” they both looked to John immediately as he scolded them, and Y/n shuddered at the way his tell tale signs of irritation shone through; a quirked brow, an evident scowl and a hardness in his jaw that screamed that he was at his rope’s end with their banter. 

“We are,” she spoke up without giving Robert the opportunity to come up with another questionable joke directed at their very unamused boss. Then, not offering anything further, she followed John’s  lead as he walked off, not paying any mind to how far they were behind him. 

Though, the peace was short lived when Y/n tripped as they reached the bottom of one of those short lived staircases that had been placed purely for aesthetic purposes, accidently dropping her rolling suitcase as she stumbled forward. With reflexes faster than she could have registered, John spun, barely sparing a moment to set aside his own suitcase before catching her at the shoulders. By the time he’d helped her right herself, Y/n’s chest was barely a hair away from his and with the way he was bent, his face wasn’t much further from hers. Swallowing thickly, for the first time Y/n didn’t feel small under his bottomless stare, instead, she felt like he was seeing into her; trying to speak into her. It was hard to decipher it, and it could have very well been her own unspoken affections blurring things, but Y/n could have sworn that he was seeing her in a different light.

Everything around them seemed to slow down, like the universe was letting her savor the proximity that she’d never experience again. “Are you okay?” John’s inquiry pierced their fragile moment, and all of a sudden, it was as if someone had hit play on a remote so reality would resume.

“I…..I’m fine, thanks,” she smiled weakly, her expression faltering when John pulled away. Then, simultaneously remembering her fallen suitcase, they both bent over to get it, leaving John’s hand to unconsciously fall over Y/n’s. For a split second, they stared at their hands, together, on the black plastic handle, looking very suggestive with the way they were positioned. “I uh, I got it,” flustered, Y/n gave the bag a gentle tug.

John didn’t let up immediately though, instead sparing her a peculiar stare, “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” she exhaled shakily. Y/n couldn't let him take it, else she’d read too much into it, and no good would come from reading too much into an innocent though rare act of inconsequential kindness from John Wick. He didn’t feel the same, they weren’t even friends, it wasn’t worth it. “Thanks though.”

They stood and John immediately put some distance between them. “Good,” he scoffed coldly, walking off before they could exchange anything else. 

“Hey,” Robert touched her shoulder, causing Y/n to jump. She’d been looking on as John walked off, rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do or think. “You okay? That could have been a nasty fall, especially in those shoes.”

“Yeah,” finally tearing her gaze away from John’s slowly shrinking form so she could greet Robert’s concern with her own bewilderment, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Vaguely, she heard his response, though it sounded far off as she inevitably succumbed to  letting thoughts of the past five minds swim around in her head; caught between wishing it meant something and thinking that it more than likely didn’t. 

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