Hello My Name Is...

A customer at Katie's diner is messing with words, and Katie—or whatever her name is now—has got to stop it. Mature.

Katie kept her name tag pinned above the left breast of her pink button-down blouse. It was part of the outfit she had to wear: the blouse, the matching skirt, and the apron she kept her pen and order pad stuffed into. At the start of every shift, she dug her name tag out of the bowl in the back next to the shift schedule, and pinned it to her chest. It was the one part of the dumb, outdated outfit that she had no problem with.

At least, not until today.

Two other name tags were missing from the bowl when Katie clocked in. The first belonged to Liz, who was making herself busy in the late-afternoon lull by tidying up around the register. Her shift would be over in an hour and change, and Katie knew she was just counting down the minutes, because that's what she did herself when she had the eleven o'clock shift.

The other was Benny's. He was just the busboy, but he was six-foot-something and had once tackled someone who'd tried to leave without paying. Katie had never talked to him much, but she gathered he'd played football while he was in school. She was jealous of him, because he didn't have to wear pink.

As far as Katie could tell, it was a normal, slow day at the diner. She'd gone around to each booth and pulled down the blinds, so the sun wouldn't be glaring in through the windows, and had checked to make sure the table of college-aged guys didn't need anything. They were no one she knew, thankfully.

Feeling Bonnie

An Irish toon bunny TF, inspired by an old Blackshirtboy sketch. Mature.

Sean had a cup of beer in his hands when he really shouldn't have. The party had occupied all level surfaces in the house, though, and he couldn't just pass it off to someone else, so he was stuck holding it. He was nudging his way through the crowd, trying to find the sink, when he spotted Julie standing in the doorway to the kitchen and talking with one of her friends.

Sean jerked sideways and squeezed out of view, so Julie wouldn't spot him by chance. Obviously he wanted to talk to her, but what could he say? Did he look sweaty? Why was this place so warm all of a sudden? His heart thumped as he looked down into the cup in his hand.

All he needed was to loosen up. It wouldn't take much, and he wouldn't have to lose control. Just enough to get over his own self-consciousness.

By the time he lifted the cup from his lips, it was empty. Sean gulped, then began to forge a path out to the porch, where he could get some air.

The cool night breeze sent a shiver down his back, but it was worth the relief. He leaned against the railing, taking slow breaths and patting his cheeks with the back of his hands. Definitely warm. He tried to think about how to introduce himself to Julie. Hey, are you in Chem 22? Or would 'hi' be better? Maybe that sounded too enthusiastic. What about 'yo'? He probably wasn't cool enough to pull that off, though...

Sean swiped a hand through his hair, then paused and held a handful of it in front of his eyes. His normal rusty-orange locks looked redder and more vibrant. He let out a small sigh and threw his empty cup into a nearby garbage bag. At least it wasn't much. In the dim light, it was hard to even notice.

Little sparks of energy ran up and down his body: traveling through his legs, along his back, and out to the tips of his fingertips, then turning around and coursing right back down. He gripped the railing, rose onto the balls of his feet, and stretched his back until he felt a few joints pop. He was just anxious, that was all. Perfectly normal, especially with Julie here. He'd have to talk to her soon.

Hooked

A fox girl and her friends succumb one by one to addictive, transformative, brain-draining cigarettes. Explicit.

1 Hazel, Monday morning

Hazel hadn't seen Jordan all day. At this point, she was convinced that Jordan was home sick and hadn't texted her about it. Hazel knew the rabbit girl would be more pissed about missing track practice than missing class.

Her two other friends were already sitting at their table in the cafeteria, so Hazel headed their way. Her fluffy fox tail flicked behind her, weaving through the tight gaps between people's chairs. Between her short, crisp red hair and sharp green eyes, she had the look of someone who could be confident one day, once she got over her own teenage awkwardness. Right now, she was more lanky than anything.

Hazel slid into a seat at the table. Zoey and Evie barely noticed her sitting down.

Zoey was the biggest of their bunch, thanks to her panther genetics. She had dangerous scowls down to a science, and she was on her last strike for violating the dress code. The grinning feline skull on her tank top peeked above the table.

Evie, the doe, had her hoof-tipped fingers wrapped around her fork, halfway through jabbing it into her salad. Her glasses made her wide-eyed stare look even wider. Her flannel shirt had been scuffed in spots, a veteran of one of her many hiking trips, and her hair was pulled back in her usual short ponytail.

Zoey and Evie both were staring in the same direction. Hazel glanced between the two of them, waited a few seconds, then broke the silence by saying, "What's up?"

"Jordan," Evie said.

Hazel followed Evie's gaze, but she didn't see Jordan. All she saw was the school's varsity quarterback and some sexed-up bunny sitting on his lap. "I don't get it," Hazel said.

Zoey reached across the table, wrapped one arm around Hazel's shoulder so they were looking from the same angle, and pointed at the bunny girl. "That's Jordan," she said.

Hazel's eyes widened. That couldn't be Jordan.