#and one was from a shelter that my aunt works at

[moonfableflor]

Bonus: explain who your cats are and how you got them in the tags

[andromeda-gay]

Oh fun just found out my work had a fire tonight.

[libraford]

Okay so here's what's going on with the bird crimes.

On thursday I was going to Powers Park when I saw what I thought were 2 chickens hanging out in the parking lot, and a lady watching them from the fence. I thought... they could belong to the lady, but chickens aren't the kind of pet that you just let hang out loose.

I approach.

Lady: "These aren't mine."

I look closer. Its actually 2 roosters, one of which is a very small breed and is missing his tail feathers. Both of them have an injury to their backside- like its been plucked.

So we talk about what to do, I end up calling Animal Control. The actual Animal Control officer doesn't get there until noon, I get a police dispatcher. She says she can send one of the cops to grab them until the actual professional gets there.

I tell her that the roosters are being kept by the woman I met, she's coaxing them into her house.

I post about it on the facebook group in case someone knows who they belong to. The comments are full of jokes, obviously. But no leads. Eventually the big rooster gets caught by someone running a sanctuary for abandoned and abused livestock, but they're still looking for the little black one. Evidently they got out of the lady's backyard and were loose again.

I figure he's going to be a coyote snack and don't think about it for the rest of the week.

So now it is Sunday and I'm opening up the bathrooms. I'm at Summit Grove park and as I'm about to reserve the shelter for a birthday party I see...

A black pigeon.

Pigeons are not a common animal in this area- you're more likely to see house sparrows, crows, and mourning doves. So that's odd. What's more, she doesn't seem to be skittish and is definitely accustomed to humans. And she keeps trying to bite my fingers, so she associates hands with food and she's skinny as a rail so she's been abandoned for a minute.

Why does this keep happening to me? Is this the Morrigan come to teach me a lesson in pigeon form?

So I remember the number of the woman running the sanctuary and I give her a call. I tell her I've got a pigeon here that can't fly, is super hungry, and doesn't seem to have any issues biting fingers. She says she can't take her, but she can find a home for her because pigeons have specific needs. But she won't be able to get there until 12:30. We (my work partner and I) have to deal with the bird in the meantime.

We absolutely cannot take this bird with us on our route because we are in a tiny truck cab and don't have a cat carrier to put her in. So our solution is to lock her in the janitor's closet until the rep can get here.

Around 12:15, we head back to the shelter to make sure she's still there and hasn't been disturbed... and I realize that the reason I even saw her in the first place...

...was because there was supposed to be a birthday party at the shelter at noon.

The party is strongly underway and they have shoved a table against the door of the closet.

The sanctuary lady comes by and waves, we ask the party people politely to move the table slightly because we're trying to rehome a pigeon that's inside that closet.

They move the table, but not all guests see this interaction- because it looks like a bunch of maintenance people are just here to boss folks around during a little girl's birthday party and this draws a crowd.

The sanctuary rep arrives and we open the door just a little bit to let the bird out. She bobbles towards us, hoping for food, when one of the older ladies at the party exclaims:

"Does that ANIMAL just LIVE in there?!"

I mean... sure. For the past few hours, she did live in there.

"Do you have any IDEA how many DISEASES pigeons carry?"

The rep scoops the pigeon into her arms and takes her out of the shelter area to inspect her wings, feet, and back. She shows us her breastbone and explains that its been several days since the bird ate anything, which was why it was going for fingers.

Meanwhile, Aunt Ornithophobia over here: "I can't BELIEVE you would just TOUCH a BIRD like that in front of CHILDREN!"

We take the bird away to the van so the rep can thank us and explain what likely happened- which is that someone abandoned the bird when they couldn't take care of her anymore they just let her loose.

"I understand you got one of the roosters," I said.

"Yes, the big one. But the little bantam rooster is very fast- he darted into someone's backyard and I never found him again. If you see him, give me a call."

"I've been told that chickens are legal to own here, but roosters are not."

She gets an exasperated look on her face. "If you're going to allow backyard chickens, you're going to have to allow roosters. It's impossible to sex an avian chick and they don't get their dimorphic traits until they've reached the young adult stage and chick sellers don't care about whether they're a hen or a rooster. They care about the sale. We get roosters more often than egg-layers because someone sold them a male as a female and they don't want to pay the fine. I'd rather have the laws allow both, or neither. But disallowing roosters is patently stupid."

"Hm. Well. Note to self."

"Anyways, you're heroes to this little rock dove and I want you two to know that. She's going on a trip to a bird sanctuary in Toledo where she'll have lots and lots of snacks to eat that aren't fingers."

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Need me a Thomas Shelby with “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” thank you and cg for 100 followers!!

Thank you so much for this request my love! I'm so sorry it's so long coming. Again, I'm studying for the bar and it is crazy with the holidays! Also, I hope you like this! Tommy is not my typical bread and butter but I wanted to give people the option! Sending all my love to you angel! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: No Man Works Alone

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader, fluff

When you got connected to the middle Shelby boy, you were warned that life would never be the same. You assumed as much, knowing that their business went much farther than horse racing. You were up to the task. You had been in the Shelby orbit for years, you saw what it all took, and when Tommy made his intentions known to you, you were willing to step up and do your part in expanding the empire.

Polly joked that you were made for this life with the way that you so seamlessly came in. While the Shelby company were encroaching into higher society and government facades, they needed a pretty face to butter up old money hands. When the boys were running liquor and snow and violence, you ran sweet words and high teas with women whose husbands had deep and ancient pockets. Even before Thomas met with potential partners, they were already inclined to agree since you were just so kind and elegant looking. Surely a woman like you would never be with someone not reputable right?

But it wasn’t just the business you managed to soothe and nurture. You also added a salve to the Shelby familial wounds. Some wounds required more care than others. Some would never heal completely, but petty arguments could be solved and begin the groundwork for a more harmonious union. You had stepped in more than once to facilitate peace agreements between the Shelby siblings more than once, “Do it for the children yeah? They deserve to be able to see their cousins and aunts and uncles freely. Shelby’s need each other. And it’s Christmas for God’s sake!”

And no good deed goes unpunished it seems. Due to your expert people skills and kind face, you were put in charge of a Christmas gala for all the biggest names in the city. A dual purpose to flaunt the power of the Shelby family, and to raise funds for a women’s shelter to be built. In the same week you were planning to host Christmas dinner and Christmas morning in the home for the entire Shelby family. Everyone was coming and it was to be a beautiful affair. It’s would be wonderful save for the sheer amount of people to take care of. You had spent the day running around, only to continue into the evening, taking care of your and Tommy’s children; putting them to bed and giving them each some attention in the absence of their father.

By the time you had finished your tasks for the day, it was late, and Tommy still wasn’t finished with the ledgers and accounts. He looked exhausted, the puffiness of his eyes evident in from under his glasses. Sleeves rolled up and shirt open the quiet desire for sleep was coming off him in waves. You wrap your soft satin robe tighter around you as you gently sit next to Tommy. Without looking up from his work he says to you in a gravely voice, "You should be in bed, it's late love."

You shake your head, though you feel as though invisible fingers are dragging your eyelids down, "Mm not tired."

Tommy chuckles as he hears you attempt to stifle a yawn. He takes off his glasses to look at your faltering face. "You're not eh? You sure?"

You lean back on the comfortably expensive sofa Tommy had set up shop on, stretching out the ache in your back, "Perhaps a little. But I don't like not sleeping next to you. If you're up, I'm up. We're a team yeah?"

Tommy smiles, enamored by your insistence. It was one of the things that drew him to you the first time he saw you. Your quiet defiance. You intent to keep people together and not leave anyone behind. It was only a small fractal of how sweet and tender your heart was. Tommy leaned over to gently kiss your temple, "Alright then. If you insist Commander. I'll be done soon enough I promise."

With another poorly hidden yawn you say, "Take your time darling. I brought reading."

Just as Tommy predicted, within 15 minutes you were out like a light. Back when you all were children, it was a running joke that you would be running and playing as hard as you could one minute, and fall dead asleep on any surface the next minute. It never changed. As Tommy chuckled and picked the book off your face where it fell, he was reminded of you as a young girl. Though there were a few more marks and lines on your face now, you had the whispers of your youth still on your face. Your daughter with Tommy slept the same exact way. Mouth open slightly. Arms raised above your head. Utterly at peace. Tommy was tempted to wake you to tease you, but knew you would punish yourself for 'falling asleep on the job'. He opted to finish his paperwork instead, working diligently and quietly so as not to disturb you. Soon enough he was done and put everything away in his desk to pick up tomorrow. Pressing gentle kisses to your face, he whispers against you, "Darling, wake up. Let's go to bed eh? Get you more comfortable."

You jolted awake, nearly knocking Tommy over, "Oh God... what time is it? Are the kids ok?"

Tommy chuckled deeply, pulling you up by the arms, "No no darling. Kids are alright. You fell asleep next to me. It was a bit adorable really. You look exactly like Matilde in her crib. "

You throw yourself back down, "Oh God I fell asleep while you were working! That is not what I wanted to do! I wanted to keep you company!"

Tommy laid himself over you, pushing your arms away from your embarrassed face, "You did keep me company. Perfect company. You needed to sleep. You've been running around. Being the best mother and wife. Being the best coordinator. Being the best aunt and sister in law. Hard work my love. C'mon. Let's get to bed yeah?"

You let him kiss you and take you to bed. Sleep took you both sweetly and quickly. And in the morning you would start it all over again. Waking to your children jumping on top of you with joy, and another list of things to attend to. But as long as Tommy was next to you. It would all be worth it.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

feel the magic

Steve Harrington x Reader 

Seven days before Christmas, you find yourself stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of a city you're still finding your place in. You wait out the weather with a handsome stranger.

This prompt is from @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars ❄️ Holiday Prompt Party ❄️ which was so fun! Thank you ladies for sharing these ♥️

You both rush to find shelter in a bookstore or bar during a snowstorm

Word Count: 6.6k

Contents: Set in 90’s Chicago, reader & Steve are both mid-late twenties. Nothing explicit, some kisses and mentions of arousal. Some talk of Steve’s shitty parents. No physical descriptions of reader. Steve Harrington’s charm comes with its own warning.

Note: Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being my hype woman as always ♥️

Chicago in December was cold. Very fucking cold.

A million miles from the hot and heavy city you moved to in the summer, there was something about that bitter chill of the air, the frosted pavements and the warm glow of the Christmas lights decked across the city that made it feel like something right out of a movie. You never felt like you could relate to those leading ladies in the romantic comedies and the coming-of-age romances you grew up watching, more like some side-friend character who faded into the background, inconsequential to the plot and action.

It was your first winter in the city, your first Christmas too, and it wasn’t long before you realised that your grandma had been right - investing in a good winter coat was a must for the Windy City. Despite the cold, the shininess of your new adventure in a new city still held up, feeling like the city girl you had always dared to dream of being.  

With the holidays too close for comfort - just seven days before you caught a cab to O’Hare to make the journey home - you cashed in some of your overtime and finished work early to hit the city to get the last few presents for friends and family. 

The snow had started just before you left the office, a light dusting that made your shopping trip feel even more magical. You had carefully stowed your camera in your bag to snap shots of the big tree at Civic Centre and the lights around City Hall to show your Mom and friends at home. When the snow started to come down heavier and heavier, the fluffy fat flakes falling in the shot made it feel more magical. 

As you looked around, soaked in the festivity of it all, you thought that maybe for one day you could play pretend and let yourself feel like the glossy, confident main character of the movie in your head. 

By six o’clock the magic of it all had well worn off and you were ready to go home. Your wool winter coat kept you warm-cheeked and overheating as you waited in line in Macy’s to pay for a scarf and fancy hand cream that your Aunt would fake-smile at before tossing it to the side. It felt like years since you had stepped inside the huge store, some sort of liminal purgatory where time didn’t exist and it was far too easy to get lost amongst the shiny Christmas displays and the disorienting overstimulation of the cosmetics and fragrances department. 

Your head was surely going to explode if you heard some poor impression of Bing Crosby crooning another Christmassy jingle over the store’s speakers. You were feeling distinctly less festive and fun now - less merry and bright, more murderous and bad-tempered. 

Over the tinny muzak and the scratch of your scarf on your too-warm neck, you tuned into the conversation going on behind you.

“That snow is really coming down, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? It’s some sorta weather-bomb - only going to get heavier.” 

You and every other shopper within earshot looked toward the windows, seeing the white flurry instead of the warm glow of Christmas lights. 

You became all too aware of the sheer number of bags you were carrying, weighed down with books and gifts and trinkets, the heft of your camera and the bottle of wine you had bought to sip when you got home. The overheated parts of you longed to be cool again, but this felt like some sort of karmic mockery. The tad-too-short-for-work skirt you had chanced and got away with that day felt minuscule beneath your coat as you imagined how cold a weather-bomb was going to be.

By the time you paid and politely refused gift-wrapping for your purchase, the snowstorm had thrown the city into chaos. Traffic was at a near standstill when you reached the front door on State Street, the sidewalks packed with shoppers and commuters battling through the snow and each other to find a way home. 

The subway entrance was one street away but seeing the pushing and shoving crowd cramming themselves underground made you feel claustrophobic, twisting hot panic in your gut. Maybe the stop before might be less crazy, you thought, hoping for a better chance of getting home sometime before midnight, so you squeezed away from the crowd and braved the worsening blizzard. 

The magic of Christmas had almost fully waned now, despite the snowball fights starting up amongst the gridlocked traffic. You just wanted to get home, feel your fingers and toes again perhaps. You picked your steps through the icy streets, trying not to slip or whack other flustered pedestrians with your bags; they didn’t have the same courtesy or kindness. Patience and Christmas cheer had worn thin, battered by heavy snow.

“Watch it!” one sharp-elbowed woman hissed over her furry coat collar as she shouldered past you, sending you off-balance just as a rogue snowball hit your shoulder. 

Had your feet not been aching so badly, you would have stamped like a toddler.

“Bitch.” Your frustrated whisper went unheard as you continued down the block, squinting to pick out a landmark to orient yourself in the snowy city. 

You tucked yourself into a side street to regroup and take a breath, attempting to condense your too-many shopping bags to protect the preciously picked-out presents inside. The welcoming glow of a bar sign caught your eye, a blinking beacon through the fluster of snow. 

Tucked away down the side street, The Snug appeared like a mirage. Twinkling Christmas lights blurred by the steamed-up windows winked at you, inviting you inside. It was fate.

Surely the snow will stop soon, you thought as you gathered yourself again. One drink and some fries would be plenty of time to let the streets and subways settle.

The cold air made your nose and lungs feel spikey-sore after a few deep steadying breaths. With your bags clutched safely in your hands, you picked your steps toward the almost-hidden bar, dodging patches of ice to get to the door. 

Inside was cosy-calm, with clusters of friends and a few fellow solo drinkers hiding from the heavy snow and chaos. It was quieter than the streets and packed subways, their chatter backed by songs queued up from a jukebox glowing in the corner. 

You squeezed yourself and your bags into a free booth, taking a load off with a sigh that pulled the tension all the way up from the tips of your toes.

Daringly, you chanced a look in your compact to assess the damage of a day of shopping and going head-to-head with the bitter cold front. Mascara smudged beneath your eyes, hair a riot. 

“Shit,” you murmured, pulling the attention from the man at the next table.

He smiled, sympathetic when he saw your flustered state. “You look like you’re in the right place.” 

After blowing hair from your face you returned a tight smile. “Thanks, I think.” 

His brown eyes widened. “Oh no, no... I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, horrified that he had offended you. 

You shook your head, “No, I get it. I look insane. It’s been a day.” Handbag in hand, you looked at him again, smiling a little softer at the flustered stranger. “Could you keep an eye on my bags for a sec? I’m just going to the ladies' room. And the bar.”

The man nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Sure, go for it. I’ll guard them with my life.” 

You didn’t miss his charming smile, or the pink tint of embarrassment that lingered on his cheeks after accidentally telling you the truth about just how crazy you looked. You caught the subtle once-over he gave you after your coat was removed and hoped that your sixty-denier tights hadn’t laddered. Your cheeks felt warm again as you made your way to the ladies' room, purse in hand to wrangle your messy hat-hair and fix your face. 

As you patted rose-tinted balm onto your lips, you quietly hoped that first impressions could be overwritten.

Armed with a glass of red wine and your receipt for a basket of fries,  you returned to your table and tried not to sigh too obnoxiously (or moan) at the relief of sitting down. At the next table, the brown-eyed man was looking over a piece of paper and tapping his pen against his full lower lip. 

“Thanks, Stranger,” you said, looking and feeling at least ten times better.

“Oh. You’re welcome,” he said, smiling distractedly before raising his half-drunk beer to you. 

You raised your glass in return, sharing that little smile with the stranger before plucking one of the new books from your cluster of bags to distract your busy mind.

Wine and a book in a cosy bar? Maybe the day had not entirely gone to shit.

The stranger went back to his list, and you tried not to let your gaze linger too long on his broad shoulders or his sharp jaw. He looked like he had just finished work, a few shirt buttons undone beneath his navy blazer, his coat and scarf bundled on the chair opposite him with one lonely Macy’s bag on top. You watched him push his honeyed hair back, raking his fingers through the strands falling over his forehead. It was easy to forget to even open your book to start reading in favour of being distracted by him.

There was no denying he was attractive. And there was no denying that you were caught looking when his brown eyes met yours and his lips twitched with a charming smile. 

“Steve.” 

“Huh?” Wide-eyed, and flushed-hot with embarrassment, you could not find a quick way to explain away your gazing. 

“You called me ‘stranger’ before. My name’s Steve.”

“Oh. Of course. Steve.” You gave him your name, watching how he smiled when you said it before repeating it as you had done with his.

“Pretty name. Guess we’re not strangers anymore.” 

“I guess not.” 

His mouth curved up as he lifted his glass again, taking a slow sip. Your eyes drifted to two perfect moles on his neck as he swallowed; they matched the twin set on his cheek.

Some sort of alarm started to scream in your head; you had forgotten the feeling of being flirted with. If that’s what this was. 

“Christmas shopping?” he asked, nodding to your bags. 

“Yeah, just about have everything,” you said, “Now I have to wrap it all.” After a steadying sip of wine as your fries arrived, you watched how he twirled his pen between thick fingers, names left uncrossed on the paper in front of him. “Are you stuck?”

Steve slumped back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before running his fingers through his hair again, making it messy in the most artfully effortless way.   “Yeah, a little.” He rubbed his face before looking at you again. “Um, can I pick your brains? I don’t wanna impose…” 

This was never how your day was supposed to go. As the snowstorm raged on outside, inside the cosiness of the bar felt like a whole other world miles from your planned evening of gift-wrapping and most of a bottle of wine. Instead, surrounded by soggy shopping bags, you found yourself with the attention of an Adonis-like stranger. You felt like it was some sort of fair deal from the universe.

When you made the move to the city, started afresh with this new chapter, you made yourself promise to take life as it came and not be too uptight. Maybe this was all part of the flow you had vowed to go with…

Smiling at Steve, you pushed your unopened book to the side and leaned forward on your arms, “Sure. Go for it.”

Steve relocated to your booth after a few minutes of chatting. An hour and a half later, he had made himself at home opposite you with his bright smile and dreamy dark eyes. 

The bar had become a refuge to a few more bodies seeking shelter from the bitter cold front raging outside. He didn’t need much convincing to share your booth, freeing up the table for a couple huddled together over hot whiskies.

You had insisted on sharing your fries with Steve as you gave suggestions on what he could buy for the last few names on his list. A second basket and another round of drinks had been ordered on his tab when you realised that neither of you would be going home any time soon.

With a greasy-hot fry between your fingers, you tried not to drool over his thick forearms as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, and went back to navigating Steve’s complex network of friends-turned-family.

“So he’s your ex-girlfriend’s little brother? And you stayed friends… because he’s friends with Dustin…? Who’s like your brother?” 

As you figured out who the hell ‘Mike’ was, Steve nodded encouragingly and chewed another fry.

“You got it.” His straight white teeth glinted in the warm light of the bar.

“And his sister - Mike’s sister, your ex-girlfriend, Nancy… Is Robin’s girlfriend now? Robin, your best friend?” 

“Yep. See, told you you’d wrap your head around it eventually.” His smile was proud as he nudged the fries your way again. 

You took two more fries as your reward before nudging the basket back to Steve. You tried not to focus on the way the fries had left his lips shiny, or the pink glow on his cheeks when he caught you staring. Again. 

When you realised that this serendipitous stranger who gave you butterflies wasn’t someone else’s boyfriend, you dropped your shoulders and your guard and relaxed into the booth more. You willed yourself to relax, to go with the flow. It was not difficult to let yourself sink deeper into those warm brown eyes of Steve’s as he slowly upped his flirtations and snuck his own barely subtle glances at your lips. 

He was smooth.

Steve tapped the paper list with his finger, transferring more salt and oil from the fries to the now annotated and doodled-on list. 

“So, any suggestions? He’s the hardest one to buy for, so of course I got him for Secret Santa. Again.” He leaned his head back against the booth. “He’s a little dweeb. Big dweeb now. Taller than me.”

He spoke with such fondness of the kid he swore didn’t like him. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Steve was maybe one of the most thoughtful people you had ever met. Most of what you had learned about him had been through what he told you about his friends - where he grew up, his collection of poorly paid jobs after high school before going to college in Indianapolis, then onto Chicago. His best friends were never far behind. He would be spending the Holidays with friends and their families instead of his own, which he seemed perfectly fine about. 

He was funny too, heavy-handed with charm and kindness. You were definitely done for.

Steve Harrington seemed like an enigma, one you would happily devote hours and hours to figuring out.

The basket fries were pushed back and forth and you wracked your brains to think of a gift for this random college kid you didn’t know. The barman announced that the snow was still coming down heavily, and to make yourselves at home. You had lost all track of time, cosy in the bubble of the booth with your new friend.

His brown eyes fixed on you as he rested his chin in his hand. “All you wanted was a quiet drink and a place to hide from the snow, and now you’re helping some dork with his shopping list. M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The butterflies in your gut swooped.

Warm-cheeked, you shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’s distracting me from panicking about how I’ll get home, or if I’ll ever get home. I’m still figuring out the subways.” Picking at the crisp ends of the fries, you tried not to get lost looking into his shiny amber eyes. “I was only going home to wrap presents anyway.” 

Steve smiled when you mirrored him, cheek resting on your hand. 

“I think this isn’t such a bad way to spend the evening, Steve.”

A pink glow - not entirely from his beer - warmed Steve’s face and he looked down at his almost empty glass. You would think he was being bashful had there not been a grin spreading on his handsome face. 

“Oh, you’re trouble.” 

You shrugged, attempting to play coy. “What were you supposed to be doing tonight? What are you missing to be here with some strange girl?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I was Christmas shopping, like you. Killing time. I was supposed to meet my buddy for dinner and drinks, came in to use the phone to cancel when the snow got bad. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”

“A buddy on your list?” You asked, nodding to the piece of paper.

“Mhm. Eddie. He didn’t mind too much, I’ll make it up to him.” He sipped his drink again.  “He has a gig tomorrow night, so I’ll see if I can help with lifting amps and shit.”

“He’s the heavy metal guy?” you asked, remembering back to Steve labelling him as so easy to buy for.

Steve had not smiled so much in weeks, maybe months. With you, tucked away in The Snug, he basked in the ache in his cheeks, the way you laughed, how you remembered little things about him and his friends. 

“I hope these friends of yours realise how much you love them, Steve.”

He liked that blunt edge of your delivery too. 

You watched him fluster a little for the second time that evening.

“I do mean that. You’re putting so much of yourself into these presents, not just… I don’t know, throwing money at stuff. There’s so much thought in all of these.” You tapped the paper for emphasis, recognising a little of yourself in the way Steve put thought into his gifts for the ones he loved. 

You knew the sting of that thoughtfulness not being returned, or even noticed. 

Watching Steve flounder, seeing him resonate with your assessment, you felt a sinking stone in your chest. Too much. Too far. He was still a stranger, a stranger you were practically snowed in with and had probably developed some sort of cabin-fever-bond with, and you had to push it. 

“Sorry. Shit. Steve, I should just shut up. I don’t know you, or your friends. I would be so mad if some stranger just-”

His hand, his much bigger, warmer hand, reached for yours and squeezed. 

“Stop. It’s okay.” Steve squeezed again, his palm warm as it curved around your hand. “What you said, it’s true. I.. Shit.” He smiled, a sadness in his eyes you had not seen and blamed yourself for, “Here I am dumping my baggage on you.” 

Steve sighed but didn’t let your hand go. You didn’t mind; you didn’t want him to.

“My parents just threw money at gifts for me. Totally impersonal shit I didn’t need, or want. They didn’t know me or what I liked, all for appearances and shit like that.” You watched soft fondness pull at the corner of his mouth. “So I put thought into stuff for my friends. They’re my family now. They annoy the hell out of me some days, but I want them to know… I dunno, that I listen. That I hear them. And see them, what they like…”

He trailed off when you turned your hand beneath his and squeezed.

“That’s the sweetest, Steve. They’re very lucky to have you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, loud enough for him to hear.

He shrugged, playing smooth again despite the reality check he had been dealt. “M’the lucky one. They’re buttheads, but they have my back too. Promise.” 

You nodded and tried not to flush when you looked at your joined hands. 

“Tell me something about you then, Steve… I don’t even know your last name. What’s your favourite colour?” 

He smiled again, back on some new track now after that detour to the trauma dump. “I like yellow. I usually say blue, because when I say yellow people look at me like I’m crazy or somethin’. Yellow. Definitely.”

It clicked then, the warmth of his smile and his presence glowed like yellow sunshine and the golden bulbs of Christmas lights that could warm up the most frigid places. Warm like melted butter on toast and the glow of the lamp beside your bed for reading late into the night. It made you feel warm despite the winter cold.  

“And it’s Harrington. Steve Harrington.”

“Yellow suits you, Steve Harrington.” 

You and Steve moved on to clove-heavy hot whiskies as you traded questions back and forth, learning about each other little by little. You found it hard not to fall a little bit in love with him as he became less of a stranger to you. 

He played basketball in school and swam competitively. His favourite films were Top Gun and Dirty Dancing. He preferred pancakes over waffles and didn’t like bacon on his burgers. You spoke briefly about what you did for work and focused instead on trivial things that showed each other the real you, the real Steve Harrington. 

What’s your middle name? 

Best Halloween costume? 

Most important question ever, crunchy or smooth?

He was as close to perfect as you had ever dreamed someone could be. 

Two middle names, Henry Michael. 

Maverick, or Sandy from Grease - don’t ask, I’m not drunk enough. 

Crunchy, duh. Have you tried it with honey instead of jelly?

A tiny cynical part of you waited for something about him to dislike. You could have kept waiting, kept wondering, but instead you decided to relent to the simple serendipity of it all. Maybe there was nothing to dislike about Steve (Henry Michael) Harrington, and that was perfectly okay.  

You sat alone at the table, watching Steve’s broad back as he leaned against the bar to get change for the jukebox. That golden glow of his made him like the North Star in the business of the bar; simultaneously exciting you and making you deliciously nervous. 

The first couple of people left the bar to bravely trek home through the mean cold streets a little after nine, promising to call to let the bar staff know they got back safe and advise whether others should stay or chance the journey home. Everyone had agreed to a lock-in until morning if the snow didn’t stop or if the conditions got too dangerous. 

You all waited on a collective breath for the phone to ring; drinks flowed, and conversations continued and deepened over strong drinks. Feeling comfortably blurred around the edges, the spirits stayed high despite the less-than-perfect circumstances.

The shrill ringing of the phone behind the bar pulled the air from the room, silence fell. 

Home safe. The barman gave a thumbs up and relayed the message that the streets were walkable, a few taxis were running if you were lucky to catch one. 

Steve’s searching gaze found yours as everyone else cheered. The bubble had burst. 

His smile was a little sad, matching yours despite the good news that you could actually go home. He held up a finger, ‘one sec’, and darted to the jukebox with his handful of change to queue up some songs before you had to say goodbye. 

Goodbye. 

You didn’t want to say goodbye to Steve Harrington. 

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you took stock of your bags, distracting yourself until Steve settled himself across from you again. His hand patted the smooth table top twice, head tilted to look at your face. 

“Y’okay?” he asked. “Guess it’s good that we don’t need to sleep here tonight..?”

“Mhm. Definitely. Just… trying to figure out how long it’s going to take me to get home,” you said, not totally a lie. Your smile didn’t meet your eyes, even though you looked forward to getting into your cosy bed with the brushed cotton bedsheets and your fuzzy flannel pyjamas.

“Me too. What way are you headed?” Steve said, an innocent glimmer of hopefulness in his eyes. 

When you told him where you lived he nodded. “M’not far from there. I’d… really like to walk you home, if that’s okay? Or try to find a cab…We could share?” Steve rambled a little,  his smooth exterior cracking. “Fuck it. I want to make sure you get home safe, and I like talking to you. A little part of me was hoping we’d get snowed in or something so stupid so I could spend more time with you.” 

You looked at him across the table, wide-eyed as your heart hammered in your chest. 

“Is that crazy of me? I’m coming on way too strong, aren’t I?” 

“Steve.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “That would be really great. I kinda hoped the same. I’d like it if you walked me home.”

His smile was blinding as he took your hand between both of his, warm and large. “Okay, great. Cool.” 

“Cool,” you echoed, placing your other hand on top of his like a stack as you tried not to giggle or kick your feet.

The familiar opening chords of Old Time Rock and Roll played from the jukebox, making you both grin wider at each other. 

“It’s a classic, I couldn’t not put it on,” he said.

You threw your head back, laughing happily as Steve murmur-sang along with Bob Seger, bobbing his head as he crooned quietly for you. You knew about the scar on his arm from when he recreated that scene at a party; slid too hard, right into his mother’s second-favourite vase as his friends cheered him on (then drove him to the ER).

“Don’t tell me you put something from Dirty Dancing on next, Steve,” you teased, seeing his eyes sparkle with a sly sweetness. “Steve!”

Your laugh made him feel tingly-warm all over.

“It’s not Time of My Life or She’s Like the Wind, promise,” he said, smirking as he kept his cards close to his chest. “Promise. We can go when it’s over.  If you’re ready to head out?”

You nodded, squeezing his hands before rooting in your bag for your gloves. Knowing that you didn’t have to part ways just yet made the idea of being out in the cold a little more tolerable.

“You been taking photos of the lights?” Steve asked, picking up your camera from the table after taking it out of your bag. 

He remembered that ‘new in town’ excitement, still had the photos of him with Robin in front of the tree at Civic Centre (fresh-faced and pink-cheeked after too much mulled wine). The big tree had been nothing on their own lovably wonky tree in their tiny apartment, decorated with cheap baubles and coloured lights and tinsel that shed so much . 

“Yeah, to show my Mom. Super cheesy, I know,” you rolled your eyes and watched as Steve turned it so carefully in his hands. “Might get some snaps of the snow, to remember tonight.”

As Steve nodded, an idea bobbed to the surface of your mind. 

“Steve? Feel free to say no but… Could I get one of us? To remember…”

As if you would ever forget the night you met Steve Harrington. 

Steve watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, let his eyes linger before catching your eyes. You saw the whiskey-brown disappear, swallowed by deep black pupils. 

“Only if you get me a copy of it.”

His voice was low, smooth, and made your thighs squeeze - not for the first time that evening either. Without saying as much, you knew it meant he would like to see you again, that he didn’t want to forget you either.

You kept your voice remarkably cool and calm, despite the urge to squeal and kick your feet. “Yeah. Of course…” 

He winked before leaning over to catch the attention of the woman at the next table, checking with you before he passed your camera to her with that bright charming smile of his.

The woman directed you both to lean in a little across the small booth table, taking her task very seriously. “You two look great! So cute!” she said, beaming behind the camera.

The opening bars of Hungry Eyes started up as she counted down. 

It made the perfect picture; Steve grinning as he watched a giggle burst from your smiling lips. Your head was spinning, your heart beating hard in your chest - when you looked at that photo in years to come, you would never forget that feeling.

He thanked the woman and took the camera back as you soaked the lyrics in, thinking of Steve instead of Swayze. As you tucked the camera away, you realised that the song said more than either of you were brave enough to say out loud.

I feel the magic between you and I…

When your glasses were empty, when the butterflies had settled again, you began to wrap yourselves in your scarves and coats, hats and gloves, and gather your bags and belongings before braving the cold together. 

The warmth in your bones from the bar was quickly extinguished by the bitter air outside, though you couldn’t pretend that the snow was not beautiful. A little post-apocalyptic perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless. 

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Steve hissed, his words turning to vapour as you set off together, leaving footprints side by side in the crunchy snow. 

“No shit,” you teased, giggling at Steve’s scowl.

The combination of frigid air and the alcohol in your blood made you feel delightfully dizzy. Steve’s hair was crushed beneath his beanie hat, the longer ends peeking out beneath between his turned-up coat collar and scarf. Something about how much hair he could squeeze under that fine (expensive) knit hat made you feel terribly fond and giddy about it. 

“Okay, smartass. You were such a nice girl in the bar,” he tutted, teasing you back. 

“Tricked you,” you shrugged, “I was never nice.” Your chattering teeth make your playful quips much less believable - as if Steve couldn’t see right through you. 

“C’mere. Stick by me, we’ll either stay warm or freeze together.” Hooking a hand around your arm, Steve pulled you close to share body heat. Closer than you had been in the bar, body to body, you found that you fit nicely under his arm. Spicy-warm notes of his cologne mixed with whispers of cigarette smoke buried deep in the wool of his coat.

You smiled up at him, a shiver of nervousness down your spine as you realised you were alone together - actually alone now - for the first time.

“This okay?” he asked, pink nose matching his cheeks as he steered you both through the snow. 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. With your arm wrapped around the thickness of his torso, you squeezed gently and hoped he could feel it through the winter layers. His grin told you he did. 

You walked in silence for a while, carrying the weight of ‘when can I see you again?’ and ‘please tell me you feel that spark too?’ with all of your shopping bags. 

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” His eyes shone, sparkled with something when he looked down at you.

“We still haven’t figured out a present for Mike…”

Steve hung his head, eyes squeezed shut as your feet slowed down. “This fuckin’ kid.”

He lifted his head after sighing so hard you swore he was going to turn inside out. 

“Mike Wheeler is going to be the death of me, I swear to god,” he said, speaking up to the sky. “He’s getting a Sam Goody gift card. Done. I don’t care anymore.” 

“Steve Harrington, you can’t pussy-out and get him a gift card,” you tutted, leaning your weight against him to make him swerve.

The way Steve’s laugh echoed through the empty snow-capped streets made your heart flutter. “You did not just accuse me of being a pussy. You’re breaking my heart here, baby.”

When he looked down at you, eyes sparkling with mirth rather than genuine hurt from your playful betrayal, you could not miss how his tongue darted out to wet his pretty pink lips. 

Baby echoed in your ears, warming you from the inside.

“You cannot get him a gift card.” Voice quiet and insistent, you squeezed him again, “Think, Steve.”

“I am.” Played-up-pathetic, Steve’s whiney voice made you double-take and giggle at him. “He’s impossible.” 

“No one is impossible. Tell me what he likes again. Don’t say ‘nerd shit’, Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and you poked his ribs, far too cosy and familiar with the man who was a stranger just a few hours ago.

“Dungeons and Dragons, weed,” he listed, “He writes stuff sometimes, films, uh… Taco Bell?” 

“He likes films too?”

“Mm. Studying film. Wants to be a screenwriter or somethin’...”

You hummed and looked up at the clear sky for an answer. “How about… a framed film poster?”

“Say more.” Steve looked down at you, prettier than the stars ever could be. 

You forced yourself not to look at his lips, knowing you were a weak tipsy woman at heart. “Well, what’s his favourite film? Posters are pretty easy to find, a nice-ish frame. Slap a bow on it, Merry Christmas, Mike.” 

Padded fingers tapped your upper arm as Steve thought, wracking his brains. “When they were kids, they dressed up as Ghostbusters for Halloween. Recreated it this year. Oh, you’re a fuckin’ genius!” 

Steve squeezed you tight against his side, and with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, scooped you up with admirable ease to spin around in the snow. 

“Steve!” your voice was an undignified yelp, cracked with laughter. 

“You’ve saved Christmas!” Steve’s smiling face was brighter than any Christmas lights guiding your path home. Still turning with you, slower now and more careful, he rested his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re some kinda miracle, baby.” 

Steve’s warm whiskey-tinted words whispered over your mouth. Your breath was caught, choked in a gasp in your throat, as he slowed down his spinning to ease you down onto the snowy empty road. Arms still wrapped around each other, shopping bags crushed and be-damned, you stood toe to toe just looking at each other. 

“Can I..?” Quietly smooth and charming, Steve’s eyes dipped to your lips. 

Instead of giving him an answer, using your words like a big girl, you grabbed a handful of his coat to bring your mouths together in a kiss. 

Christmas lights twinkled above you, like movie magic or fairy dust. Lips pressed and lingered, kisses slow and sweet. It was everything you dreamed it would be, better even as Steve hauled you closer still and traced his nose against yours. 

Smiling, breaths warming each other’s faces, you let Steve lead the next kiss - after all he had asked so nicely. One gloved hand on your cheek, his lips slotted with yours before he deepened the kiss with a tenderness that made your bones ache. Had he not been holding you so close, had you not been moored safely in the circle of his arms, you would have surely swooned.

His kisses warmed you, sending sparks through your limbs as his tongue grazed yours with a promise of more. You felt his lips tug and smile in response to the tiny gasping noise that escaped from your throat. Slowly, so sweetly, he kissed the side of your mouth and up to the warm apple of your cheek. 

“Wanted to do that all night,” he murmured, making sure you were steady to stand before peeling away slightly. 

“Me too.” You grinned, a giggle barely held behind your teeth. “Knew you were looking at my lips.”

“Oh yeah? Should’ve kissed you sooner then.” A smiling peck pressed to your lips as your reward, your gold star for being so observant, before you righted and reoriented yourselves for the rest of the walk home.

With most of your bags in Steve’s steady hand (the one that was not keeping you close to his side), you trekked together toward home as more frosty flakes fell from the dark night sky. 

The heat of your kiss had melted something more between you, both relieved that you weren’t the delusional one, that you both felt that same something. 

Without much traffic, meeting only a few other pedestrians trekking home in the snow, it felt like the journey was about to end far too soon. You passed and pointed out the place where you got your photo-film developed, your favourite diner, Steve’s favourite coffee place which happened to be by the bookstore you liked. 

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Steve said, “But I’d love to see you again.” He looked down at your face, feeling his heart beat harder. “I’ve never met someone like you… Y’know, when you click right away?”

“I’d like that, Steve. I’d like that so much.” Butterfly wings fluttered hard in your chest as you watched his smile melt onto his handsome face. “Anyway, I want to know how that Secret Santa goes down.” 

His grin was brighter than the snow. “You have full credit for that, honey.” Smiling lips kissed your forehead, just where your hat ended. He had scribbled his number on a clean napkin back at the bar, tucked it in his pocket to slip to you if (when) you said yes to seeing him again. 

You let yourself lean into him, nuzzling his cologne-and-smoke-spiced arm before sighing. With your door in sight, you took a breath and made yourself be brave. 

“This is me, just up here.” 

You spotted the recognition on Steve’s face. This was goodnight - at least it wasn’t goodbye.

“We’re not so far from each other. I’m like.. Five blocks that way.” He pointed off to the left, somewhere you did not bother to follow in favour of looking up at Steve. 

Now or never. This didn’t have to be goodnight… 

“Hey, so I don't love the idea of you out here on your own in the snow. What if you freeze into an ice cube, or slip and crack your head?” 

As your teeth grazed your lower lip, you watched his cheek pulse as he tried not to smile at your dreamed-up worries. Your own smile was barely hidden, ducked briefly behind your thick scarf. 

“Huh. I didn’t think of that.” Steve bobbed his head, faux-thoughtful as he considered his next steps. “Pretty perilous…”

“Christmas would be cancelled…” You bit the inside of your cheek. 

“Oh shit, you think?” his brows raised beneath his beanie, a knowing smile gave him away. You couldn’t possibly match Steve’s smooth charm. 

You took a little breath in before asking the question you both knew the answer to.

“So, you might… You could stay the night? With me. If you want to.”

Steve measured himself and tried not to be too eager at the thought of more time with you, more kisses. “You sure?” he asked, glancing up at your building before looking right back at you. 

You nodded slowly, smiling when you spotted the fresh snowflakes on his lashes, dusted over his broad shoulders too. “Mmhm. I’m sure.” 

Steve smiled, closing the gap between you to kiss you again as the snow fell. “Then I’ll stay.” 

Thank you for reading💙 Likes, reblogs and comments are loved, cherished and stored in a little locket 💙

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter Two (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

series masterlist

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

a/n: ok remember when i said this chapter wasn't gonna be that long? i lied. but i love y'all if that helps. also thx so much for 500 followers. that's unreal.

contains: arguing, general ranch activities, cussing, not really anything crazy, 2.6k words

“Rise and shine, city girl!”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I peel open my eyes and squint at the annoying figure in my doorway who’s flicking the lights on and off.

“Chris. Please fuck off.” I mumble, rolling over and yanking the covers over my head. I don’t even know what time it is but from the lack of sun pouring in through the curtains, I know it’s too damn early.

“C’mon now. Get up. You’re gonna wanna get a good breakfast in before we start.” He urges but I just reach out from under the blanket and shoo him away.

“Yes! I was hoping it would come to this.” Chris says, sounding way too excited for my liking. I scramble up in suspicion just in time to see him lifting a bucket of water over where my head was.

“Do it and die!” I yell and he grins in response, lowering the bucket.

“Thought you’d see it my way.” He pauses for a second squinting. “Are you wearing fuckin’ Gucci pjs?” He asks, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Why don’t you mind the business that pays you?” I grumble, throwing my legs off the bed and into my house shoes so he will leave.

“Unfortunately, I am.” He deadpans. “Get dressed. And I swear before the lord, if I see anything designer, I’ma push you into the pig sty.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know!” I call before he can close the door. He looks over his shoulder, eyes catching on my fuzzy slippers before he answers.

“We’ll see.”

He clicks the door shut and I get out of bed, heading to my suitcase in a bit of a panic. I throw it open, hoping that I managed to pack at least one outfit that will work but cursing under my breath when I find I didn’t. I’m about to admit defeat, mourning my Rick Owens, when I turn and look at the duffle bag my dad handed me before we left home.

He’d placed it alongside my other luggage in the foyer and I’d been so angry at him I didn’t bother to ask what it was. I unzip it and sigh with relief when I find several sets of overalls, cheap denim, and basic tees. He even added a pair of the ugliest work boots I’ve ever seen. It makes my heart lurch to think of him being this thoughtful when he was so mad at me and I almost want to call him. Almost.

I mean he did ship me off to bum-fuck Louisiana. The least he could do is give me a wardrobe. I huff in renewed indignation before heading to the bathroom to get ready.

When I’m finally dressed, I head into the kitchen where my aunt and uncle are laughing with Chris at the table.

“Good morning,” I say quietly, heading over to where Aunt Birdie has left me a plate. Chris looks me up and down before shooting me a taunting thumbs up and I glare back.

“You excited for your first day, bunny?” My aunt asks, standing to collect my uncle and Chris’ plates. I give her a look over my fork full of eggs and she laughs. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

Uncle Buck cuts in with a curt laugh, grunting as he stands up. “Now don’t you go lyin’ to the girl.” He looks at me with an apologetic smile. “Not to scare ya down the road or nothing, honey. But the first couple days are gonna be rough.” He claps a hand on Chris' shoulder, who’s been watching the interaction with a knowing smirk. “But I’m sure our boy here will take it easy on you today.”

“Of course I will.” Chris lies, nodding down at my plate. “But maybe you should eat up, darlin’. You might need it.”

***************

“Not like that!” Chris snaps, leaning over my head to run a calming hand over the cow I’m desperately trying to milk. “Don’t tug on her. Just squeeze. Firm but gentle.”

“Well, that’s how they do it in the cartoons so-” I cut myself off and roll my eyes as Chris gives me a look like I have two brain cells. “Why can’t you do it then? And I’ll watch.”

“Because then you won’t won’t learn… obviously.” He says, talking slowly as if I’m a toddler.

He walks around the front of the cow and nuzzles her nose. “Hey, Daisy girl. It’s okay. Sorry about her.”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” I ask as he comes back over and squats down next to me. Chris’ jaw drops and he blinks at me slowly.

“Holy shit. There’s no fuckin’ way-”

“Nevermind-”

“How the fuck would a male pro-”

“Let it go-”

“You think we’re out here milking a bull’s ball-”

“Chris! Just help me!” I cut in, frustration clear in my tone. He sighs and leans forward, readjusting my hand placement and showing me how to squeeze. When milk finally comes out, I squeal in excitement and look over at him. He meets my eye with an amused grin before his face drops and he pulls away.

He clears his throat and stands, wiping his hands off on his jeans. “Yeah, just keep doing that. That’s good.” He comments as I continue following his guidance.

When the cow is all milked I stand, pouring my bucket into the larger one Chris points at and give him a cocky smile. “See. I’m not so stupid after all.”

He rolls his eyes and claps sarcastically. “Mhm. Great job.” He comes over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me to the left. “Now for the other eight.”

I groan in defeat, leaning down to pick my bucket back up. Wonderful.

************

“Okay. For whatever reason, some of the hens don’t like to lay their eggs in the nesting box. We don’t sell those, we just keep them for ourselves and Birdie cooks with ‘em.” He hands me a plastic bucket half filled with hay. “Go walk around and find ‘em all.”

I smile despite myself at this. “Like Easter?”

Chris chuckles and dusts off his hands. “Sure, city girl. Like Easter.”

I roll my eyes as I start looking around the coop, spotting a few eggs in the corner. “Stop calling me city girl.”

“Oh, that’s right. You like bunny better, huh?” He teases, heading over to the nesting box and coaxing the hens out his way.

I toss a glare at his back as I continue my egg hunt. “Or you could just call me my damn name.”

“What’s the fun in that?” He walks over to me and holds up a cracked egg for me to see. “You ever get a defective one like that, you throw it out, you hear? I don’t wanna see it in my pile.”

I scoff at his bossy attitude and I throw him a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He grins, going back to the box. “Why do they call you that anyway? Bunny. Are you really as sweet as all that?”

“Try me and find out,” I reply, scooping up the last of the eggs. I turn and find Chris staring at me with his eyebrows raised, realizing my mistake. “I didn’t mean it like-”

He turns back to the box, cutting me off. “Nah. I think I’ma need to think of something new. Name you somethin’ that fits you better. Let me think.”

“Sure, bud,” I say, stepping closer to him as he explains the difference between the white and brown eggs.

************

“When do we get to go see the horses?” I ask as we load up the pickup truck with more food and water.

He looks over at me in surprise. “You a horse girl? Makes sense. Thought you were weird.”

I glare at him and he chuckles. “Shut up. I just liked to ride a bit when I used to come here.”

He nods and pulls up the tailgate. “It was somebody else’s day to fed ‘em.” He says before he notices the disappointment on my face. “But we can swing by. We’re going that way anyway.”

I give him a small grateful smile and he gestures for me to hop in the truck.

When we pull up to the stables, I’m almost overwhelmed by the memories that flood me. Me standing on a stool to brush my childhood horse, Pinkie Pie. My first time riding, my grandpa stuck like glue to the side of the horse and holding the reins.

I shake it off, not wanting to get emotional and head in behind Chris. He shows me around, pointing to a few of the horses and telling me their names before handing me some oat treats to feed them. I look around at their beautiful faces before I spot one that catches my attention.

She looks almost identical to Pinkie, with chestnut coloring that fades a bit darker around her neck and face. I walk up to her and extend my hand for her to eat from, keeping my palm flat.

“Hold on!” Chris starts but he drops his sentence as she gently begins to eat. I bring up my other hand and stroke her face gently.

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

Chris walks up beside me, clearly dumbfounded. “I can’t believe she’s letting you feed her by hand let alone touch her. Cinnamon’s a mean ole girl. Ain’t that right.” He reaches over the fence and scratches her neck. “She only likes me and your uncle.”

I tut and Cinnamon nuzzles her face close to mine, dropping her ears and closing her eyes.

“Well, I guess she has a new favorite,” I say with satisfaction. I play with her for a few more minutes, giving her love and some more treats before I remember Chris is there.

He’s leaning against the fence staring at us with his arms crossed, a strange dopey look on his face. I raise my eyebrows at him and he clears his throat and pushes up.

“C’mon. Let’s get back to work.”

************

“Lift with your legs and your core, woman. You’re gonna throw your damn back out.” Chris nags as I attempt to pour the pig feed into their container.

“Well, you could be a manly man and lift it for me!” I say breathlessly, grunting with effort. He comes over and snatches the bag from me, lifting it like it was a stick of gum.

“What are you gonna do when I’m not with you?” He says when he’s done, dropping the bag between his feet.

“Oh, I get the feeling you’ll always be over my shoulder so I’m not worried,” I say looking down sadly at my ruined nails. Chris notices and taps his foot for my attention. He's got his evil ass smirk on when I look up at his face and I know I’m in trouble.

“Y’know. I was gonna wait till tomorrow but I reckon it’s about time to weigh a couple of the piglets.”

My eyes widen to saucers at the idea of picking one of those dirty things up. “Chris-”

“Why don’t you go grab us one, huh? Just swing over the fence.” He’s cheesing, seeming the most entertained I’ve seen him yet; and that’s saying something.

I stomp around to the front of the pin, not wanting to let him win. There’s no way I’m sliding over a fence and picking up a pig in the same breath so I unhook the gate and swing it open.

“Wait! Y/N! Don’t-” Chris calls out but it’s too late. A piglet jets his ass out the gate and takes off across the field. I cuss loudly then slam the gate shut before another one can Houdini their way out. Turning on my heel, I take off after the little pig, listening to the laughter of the other workers behind me.

He’s fast, I’ll give him that, and I chase him all the way to the horse stables. He runs in but gets spooked when they neigh and turns back allowing me to scoop him up. He squeals and squirms in protest but I hold on tight.

“Got you. You little trackstar.” I say, out of breath. I turn around and start to head back, stopping in my tracks when I see Chris coming around the corner with a cage.

He takes the piglet from me and I hunch over, trying to stabilize my breathing.

“Bet you listen to me, next time.” He says after he’s got Wilber Jr. secured. But I don’t respond. I just stay bent over exhausted, feeling tears pricking my eyes. Chris notices and comes over, placing a hand on my back and rubbing in circles.

“Hey. I think it’s time for a break. How’s lunch sound?”

*************

We sit on the bed of the truck eating the lunches Aunt Birdie packed for us quietly. I scrunch my nose up when I notice him sipping out of a Pepsi can.

“Does Coke not bother sending their product to this fuck ass state?” I say teasingly.

He screws his face up at me and shakes his head. “Not gonna lie. I’m not even surprised when you’re wrong anymore.”

I laugh lightly, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“So…” Chris starts, reaching back, tossing his trash in the bag. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know about you, Scotch. Got any siblings?”

“Scotch?” I question, raising my eyebrow at the nickname.

“Yeah. Scotch. Cus people always like to say it has all this kick to it… but, uh, it goes down smoother than you’d think.” Chris maintains eye contact with me for a second and then looks away, stretching.

I smile to myself and clear my throat before answering. “Well… anyway. No to the sibling question. I always wanted one though.”

He snaps pointing at me like he’s having a breakthrough. “There it goes. You’re proving my only kid theory.”

I roll my eyes and push his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”

He grins at me and cracks his fingers. “Okay give me some more. What else?”

“I’m from Los Ang-”

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. “Duh. I asked about you. Not where you’re from.”

I furrow my brows in thought. Those two things have always been one and the same to me. “Um.. okay. Well, how about you go first? Do you just have your sister or are there more of you?” I shudder dramatically.

He raises a brow at the jab but answers anyway. “Just me and her. She’s my everything.” He smiles lightly and then nudges me with his shoulder. “You’re not off the hook. What do you wanna do when you grow up?” He asks, his tone taking on a mock childish quality. I laugh and rest my face on my cheek, thinking.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out but it’s hard,” I say, drumming my fingers against my face.

He scoffs and I look over at him in confusion. “What?”

“Nothin’. It’s just…I don’t get what’s hard about it.” He says simply.

I sit up, my guard snapping back into place. “I don’t understand what you don’t understand. I mean it’s the rest of my life we’re talking about.”

He rubs a hand over his face and shrugs. “I mean not really. If you don’t like it, you’ll just call up mommy and daddy to fix it for you.” I blink at him and he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

“No, you’re just being an fucking asshole. As usual.” I snap, sliding off the truck, and storming off toward the goats. I don’t know why his judgment is suddenly affecting me at all but it doesn’t matter. The quicker I get this day over, the quicker I can get away from Chris fucking Sturniolo.

🏷️@sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable

[ahmeduxui]

Rescue the Zourob family in Gaza, bring hope.

In the heart of this destructive war in Gaza, lives Ahmed Zourob, whose life has witnessed a tragic downturn. It occurred on one of the early days of the war when they believed it wouldn't last long. However, harsh reality shocked Ahmed and his family in unimaginable ways. During an online work meeting, a massive explosion shattered their home and dreams, claiming the lives of their innocent loved ones.

Fear and death became their companions as they fled several times to relatives, seeking shelter. Disasters continued as their uncle's house collapsed in another explosion, resulting in the loss of 30 of their relatives. They managed to rescue only their aunt from under the rubble, in need of urgent medical care. They returned to displacement, searching for a safe place.

Their tragedy persisted, and as they tried to rebuild, disasters recurred. Bombardment struck their displacement location again, causing the death of nearly 90 people from their family. The dream of a normal life seemed elusive, and hardship dominated their lives – no safe haven, no electricity, no water, and none of life's essentials.

Now, with only six people left, Ahmed and his family face the daunting challenge of survival. The responsibility for their well-being falls solely on Ahmed's shoulders.

The situation didn't stop there, as the occupation approached their displacement site, threatening more misfortune. Ahmed, the young man with dreams and aspirations, now faces losses in every aspect of his life. He needs your support to travel to Egypt, where donations can serve as a lifeline for him and his family.

Despite Ahmed's hard and efficient work, life surprised him with harsh turns. Now, he must confront the challenges of dark nights and despair. With your support, Ahmed and his family can rise from the ruins of war and the harsh ordeal they are going through. Every donation represents a glimmer of light in the darkness of their lives, an opportunity to rebuild their shattered hopes.

If you would like to contribute and support Ahmed and his family, please consider donating through this link. Your generosity can make a meaningful difference in their lives.

This is my story

Eng Ahmed Zourob

Your support means the world to us! Sending heartfelt love from the core of Palestine.

[irondad-defensesquad]

edit (december 6th 2023): this has been getting a lot of notes - thank you for the love btw! - so i just wanted you to know that this idea has a full story! it's right here. thanks again!

tony is checking his notes while he works, when he hears the door opening.

"oh peter, is that you?" he says, a little relieved but also annoyed. "care to explain why you haven't replied to any of my messages-?"

when he looks behind him, though, there's nobody in the lab.

... the meow startles him.

tony finds the black cat sitting on his notebook, and doesn't appear to plan on getting off.

"seriously?" tony groans. "friday, why is the little black hole in here?"

"he is boss jr., isn't that correct?" the A.I. replies rather smugly.

the man glares at the ceiling. "very funny." then he turns to the cat. "why are you like this. i thought cats liked to be alone. but i guess you just love bugging me."

the cat doesn't reply. he dares to lie down, refusing to let tony work. before they settle on yet another glaring contest today, the older man's phone vibrates on the desk, much to the cat's curiosity. tony quickly takes it and sees he has new text messages from peter.

peter: sorry mr stark, i can't come over today

peter: i have a decathlon meeting and i can't miss it

tony audibly groans. yeah, of course. obviously.

then peter sends another one.

peter: how is tony jr? is he behaving?

tony aggressively texts back.

tony: that is not his name. and no, he's being a little menace, alright. he ruined my couch, he knocked my favorite mug over, and now he won't let me work.

peter: aww mr stark, he just wants attention!

tony: yeah, but he doesn't have to be such a little shit.

peter: stop being mean to him!!!

tony: he's being mean to me.

tony: so what, i'm gonna be stuck with him for another night?

the teen spends a while writing the next text, which becomes many of them, probably indicating he's anxious.

peter: look mr stark i'm sorry i forced you to look after him

peter: i just couldn't leave him in the cold and aunt may already has a lot in her plate

peter: but i didn't mean to make you mad either

peter: i promise i'll try to come over as soon as i can to take him to the shelter

tony's anger fades. he sighs it out.

tony: kid, it's fine. i get it. you have a good heart and i'm proud of you for that. i just wasn't ready to have a stray cat home.

tony: but this isn't your fault, okay? you did the right thing.

he almost texts more but decides not to.

peter: ok mr stark

peter: i'll try to get him to the shelter by the end of the week

tony: no pressure, kiddo.

when he thinks it's over, peter sends yet another one.

peter: hey mr stark? could you take a pic of him? i miss his little face 🥺

tony rolls his eyes and positions the starkphone in front of the cat. the little feline seems to notice it and looks back. and he tilts his head almost instantly. though tony knows it's not out of confusion - it's like he's posing for the photo.

the hero sends it to peter.

who in turn, replies with several stickers of people exploding with heart emojis.

peter: omg!!!! bby!!!! i would die for him!!!!

tony: please don't.

peter: aww he even posed!

peter: guess he rlly takes after you 😊

tony: he is still not my cat.

peter: still... just be good to him until i get back ok? he just wants some company

you don't get it, pete. i'm irresponsible and i ruin everything i touch.

tony doesn't send that.

instead, tony looks at the cat deep into his golden eyes.

his hand approaches the little void. he expects to get bitten or scratched like he has been all day. but worse...

i ruin everything i touch, and i'm going to kill another innocent creature. i'm going to kill him. i'm going to kill him.

...

the cat is snuggling against his hand, purring.

then he lets tony pet his whole body and his tail touches his fingers.

indeed... all the cat ever wanted was love and attention. the things he never had in the past.

with a relieved smile on his face, tony finally answers peter.

tony: okay.

just a simple reply. but many promises.

[shirazens]

my own silly mystreet characters headcanon list!

aphmau:

has the worst "hear me out" takes you'll ever hear. like seriously. she can very much point to a yield sign and say "would" to everyone's dismay.

knows every line in moulin rouge as she is OBSESSED with the film. she and laurance preform the elephant medley as dramaticly as possible whenever they watch it for movie night.

obsessed with pre-endgame marvel movies.

ao3 writer! she writes fics for the nichest of fandoms, so she doesn't get that many reads.

one of the few reliable booktok users you can TRUST will give you a good recommendation to read!

garroth:

obsessed with the movie megamind. like seriously. will talk to you for hours on and WILL defend the "sequel movie" and show because, in fact, they are NOT that bad.

can infodump about a topic he's interested in for hours on end.

actually really smart and kind, but ever since he found out he made zane insecure he tries to tone it down. he used to show off a lot but wants to make sure his brother shines as well.

carries stress balls on him so he doesn't use his strength unnecessarily.

always organizes group movie nights with all his friends.

laurance:

loves to listen to and read AITA (am i the asshole?) reddit posts when bored.

an amazing listener, will listen to someone for hours on end and provide insight when needed (perfect for having a conversation with garroth).

loves gossiping. he has really good hearing so he tends to hear others share secrets nearby. he's like the wine aunt you just KNOW has the most interesting stories to tell.

likes to go on vacations a lot, explaining why he is absent sometimes during big group events.

he sometimes returns home to his family farm to take care of it when his parents are out of town.

he often voluntarily babysits caleb to impress aphmau and garroth with his caretaker skills (he's a showoff).

katelyn:

she loves the show big time rush and watches it in her freetime.

OBSESSED with musical theatre and visits broadway shows often. if the friends she brought along even DARE to suggest skipping the stagedoor? they receive a glare that could kill thousands.

adores singing and often sings in her room when the others aren't home.

continues to play volleyball with her friends after a long day of work (she's a freelance writer).

her music taste can range from alternative music like waterparks to kpop groups like red velvet!

KC:

an ao3 writer as well! she and Aphmau gift eachother fics from time to time! she mostly writes x reader fics for tumblr sexyman.

has taken a liking to cooking outside of baking! she especially likes to grill! she even wears an apron that says "kiss the cook" as well as a hat that says "fish fear me women love me".

watches any and all trending animated shows like tangled the series, adventure time, avatar, etc.

has her own tumblr blog where she writes reviews on shows and posts art! her page is quite popular.

dresses in mainly lolita fashion! she has a flare for the beauty of style and loves to recommend people styles and outfits whenever they go out shopping!

travis:

calls katelyn, zane, and dante hot nonchalantly

has attempted.

dante:

loves to bake and nana teaches him all kinds of recipes to make. he supplies the snacks at movie night.

takes taekwondo lessons. "can never be too careful" he says while living in a pretty standard upper middle class neighborhood. why is he like this.

works at a pet shelter and takes care of the dogs and cats left behind. he adopts any that have been there for years, thus making his house full of many different pets.

the designated driver for whenever they go out to clubs. he doesn't like to drink so he usually takes everyone home by the end of the night.

travis (the actual headcanons):

actually respects others and doesn't harass them like he did early on (that was a weird trope and i HATED it). he's just a flirt and if someone he flirts with flirts back he gets all flustered.

the group gamer. spends hours grinding on all sorts of games just to brag about it on his steam profile. specifically a fan of the spider-man games on playstation.

loves to cosplay! he, aphmau, and nana go to lots of conventions together in group cosplay. their last one was the powerpuff girls! they dragged garroth along and made him mojo jojo.

can recite everything and anything about the ninjago lore. this man is obsessed with any lego product or franchise and has many sets built in his room.

practices talking to himself in the mirror every morning to give him confidence. he has very low self esteem.

aaron:

dream stan.

probably friends with dream.

uhhhh idk probably streams the song "mask" by dream.

minecraft streamer.

dream.

those are all my headcanons! i hope you enjoyed! (slandering mystreet aaron is a passion of mine i'm sorry)

[peakypolly]

Hey Kat! I hope your day’s gone well!

I know I said that I’d be sending in more requests in the future…I didn’t think it’d be like 3 days later haha. But I saw the prompt list that you linked and couldn’t help but find one on it. ☺️☺️

Could you write a Tommy x Reader with this prompt: “I would like my good morning kiss now.” ?

Thank you so much in advance if you choose to! 💕

Breakfast in Bed |Tommy Shelby X Reader

Request: @runnning-outof-time

Prompt from : @creativepromptsforwriting this list here

Summary:  You and Tommy spend the morning together, but you forget one very important thing.

Word Count: 392

Content Warning: Fluff, some implied smut towards the end but nothing direct!

A/N: Thank you to K for requesting❤️! I really loved this prompt but I thought it would be better as a short blurb so I apologize for the length, I hope it's okay! Waking up with Tommy would be such a dream!! This is how I would imagine it going, especially bc I am not! a morning person, and I have always imagined Tommy waking up hours before his S/O.

Tag List: @shelbydelrey Let me know if you want to be added to the list! xoxo.

The morning sun sent a golden hue through the open window, you groaned turning over on your side. Unaware of the time and too tired to care you closed your eyes once more hoping to fall back asleep. It was one of the only days you and your husband, Tommy had off of work. The children were at their aunt Ada’s house for the day, she knew how much you and Tommy needed a day to yourselves. You were grateful, days like this were few and far between. You felt Tommy’s arm snake around your waist as he pulled himself close to you.

“Morning Doll” he croaked- you could tell he had just awoken. His warmth emitting from his body soothed you, as the cold crisp air of the bedroom surrounded you. Sheltered by the air from the blanket you pulled over your face, snuggling into the pillow. 

“Morning Handsome” you mumbled, as he placed small kisses on your shoulder blade. 

“Today is going to be a great day, just you and me, this whole house all to ourselves- what do you think, hmm?” He asked, his voice mellifluous. 

“Too early” you yawned, stretching out your body, awakening your muscles. He removed his arms from you and placed his head back onto the mahogany headboard.

“Too early eh? It’s a quarter to ten doll” he laughed, as he lit his cigarette.

“Mhm- Tommy! No smoking in the bed!” You rolled over smelling the smoke and playfully smacked his arm. 

“I’ve got an oral fixation love, seems to me like you forgot” He smirked, glancing at you before taking another puff. You gave him a puzzled look before realizing what he meant, you gasping exageratingly, sending him a smile.

“I would like my good morning kiss now” He inched his face closer to yours, the rasp still present in his morning voice. You caressed his cheek, placing your lips upon his gently. 

“Thank you” He looked satisfied at your small display of affection. 

“You’re so spoiled” you laughed, pulling the sheets off of your body, sitting up and sliding into your slippers.

“Where are you running off too, dont want to kiss me any more?” He pouted dramatically before reaching out and pulling you back onto the bed. 

“Was going to make us some breakfast” You said, as he climbed on top of you.

“I think i’d prefer to have my breakfast in bed today” He smirked, pulling you in for another kiss.

[rmoonstoner]

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

18+

Warnings:

Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, warnings may change.

***

Summary:

You move out of the old house at your friend's request. It's a very short chapter.

***

Chapter 2 - Empanadas de Santa Rita - Chihuahua City, Mexico

A Mexican pastry served in honor of St. Rita every year on May 22. Typically they are sweet and savory at the same time, containing meats, raisins, pecans, butter, garlic and assorted spices, peas, potatoes, and sherry.

***

A few months had gone by, with absolutely no word from Jake. You weren't surprised one bit, and had already gone through the process of selling most of your things. It was the big stuff, like your living room furniture, the bedroom set, any tools you had, and other such things too big for a studio apartment that you had your eye on. You even got rid of the car for a nice fat stack of cash. It was fitting that you had sold the car to Hawkeye. He was happy, and claimed that he was going to give it to his wife.

Today you were dropping off a huge bag of clothing to a local shelter. Anything that Gwen or America didn't want, ended up here. You made the old lady's day as she went through the nice and gently used items, all of which Jake had bought for you. After the drop off, you made your way back home the easy way, by web slinging home. By the time you got back, you found Peter standing at your front door.

"Hey! Sorry, I was out dropping off some clothes. You didn't mention that you were coming by." You greeted Peter with a wave and gave him a hug.

"It's alright. I was just on my way to the Sanctum, and I wanted to know if you wanted to accompany me?" He asked with grin.

"Really? You sure you want me to come along? You did mention the doctor hates unexpected guests…" You replied. Peter could see your hesitancy and he held both hands up.

"It's totally okay with Doctor Strange. I asked first, and besides, you're friends with his daughter, so…"

"Does he know-"

"Uh…" Peter looked away sheepishly as he rubbed his neck and laughed.

"Peter! Just because he's an Avenger and the king of the wizards, you can't be telling people my secret identity!"

"I am sorry! He saw you on the roof the last few times, and he wanted to know why I hadn't introduced you to him. Then America let it slip she's your friend, and, so… He kind of figured it out. He's a genius, and has that eidetic memory."

"Oh fantastic, a real Sherlock Holmes type, eh?" You retorted, and he laughed.

"Yeah, so I am sorry…"

"It's fine. Like you said, he probably already knew. I'm not mad."

"Oh good! So, do you need to do anything before we go?"

"I just need to put the washing on the next load of donations, then grab some water."

"Cool!"

***

***

Once at the Sanctum, Peter introduced you to Wong. The man seemed grumpy at first, but after hearing who you were, he changed his tune rather quickly. He made you a tea while Peter left to find the doctor, and the two of you chatted about how Peter basically lived here at the Sanctum since his Aunt and Tony Stark had passed away. He asked about what you did for a living, and you shrugged. You didn't have a paying job, and you lived in your ex boyfriend's house, which you were getting ready to move out of.

Wong seemed impressed that you were taking charge and moving on with your life, which told you that Peter had been blabbing his mouth again. You would have normally been upset by this, but Peter had told you all about who Wong was, what he did, and who he worked with. He was like the other king of the wizards, and Peter claimed he was way nicer than Strange. You found that hard to believe, because both of the wizards had a reputation for being formal hard asses.

Peter ended up coming back with Doctor Strange, and the lad was just talking up a storm as the doctor nodded along while sipping from a steaming mug. The way they looked was adorable, like a son telling their dad all about their day after school, but it was Peter talking about his patrols, while the older man listened intently.

"-And then she flashed him with the lights, kicked the guy in the balls, and he fell off of the roof. I've never seen Sandman go down that fast before! She managed to get him, before he could turn into sand!"

"Oh wow, Peter. That's most impressive." The doctor winced a bit, but he was impressed all the same.

"I take it that this her?" He asked as he motioned towards you. You gave a polite smile and waved.

"Yeah, that's her! You should see her and Gwen work as a team! It's so fun! She's the one making all the weird lights at night." Peter said as he made the same hand motions you did for the lights. You laughed and looked over at the older man who was chuckling softly at Peter's energy.

"Ah, I see. Well, in that case, it's lovely to meet you, young lady. My name is Stephen, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Uh, yes, sir, er, uh, doctor."

"Stephen is fine. Any friends of Peter's or America's are welcome to use my first name. Unless, of course, I don't like them." He laughed and held his hand out to you. You took it gently, remembering that Peter had told you the man had delicate hands that had once been crushed.

"Okay, Stephen, it is nice to meet you too. I always wanted to see what America's and Peter's adopted dad was like."

"Oh, well, I-" Stephen seemed flustered when you said adopted dad.

"Oh, he's a good dad. Very supportive of my Spider-Man gig." Peter said as he patted Stephen's shoulder. The man beamed at the praise and kept drinking his tea. You didn't understand why he was known for being snobby, stoic, and rude.

"That's good. Peter talks about you all the time. Says you've saved the world a lot, and kept the spooky magic things at bay." You remarked, and Stephen burst out laughing.

"I suppose that's what I do. It's a new way of saying it though. Oh, I have to talk to ask Wong something. Be right back." Stephen smiled and then excused himself to go talk with Wong for a bit.

They did not come right back.

It was three hours before they did, and by then, America had come home, said hi, then left again for her studies at the Kamar-Taj. You had spent the time playing chess, and had won three to two. When Stephen and Wong came walking in, they looked frustrated. It turned out there had been one of those cosmic fluctuations, and Stephen was telling Peter and you to keep an eye out for anything weirder than normal. 

You left soon after, and went back home to grab a nap before patrol later.

***

Three weeks later…

Peter and Gwen had convinced you to move out of the house Jake owned. You didn't make it easy for them either. You felt reluctant to leave that house. It had bad memories, but it also held so many good ones with Jake.

You gave the excuse that you couldn't afford to move. The house and utilities were paid for, and you didn't have a paying job to get something new. Peter shut you up so fast by having Stephen and Wong literally coming out at that exact moment and time to offer you a room next to America's and Peter's. You groaned when that happened, because who the hell says no to the Sorcerer Supreme, which was basically your friend's dad?

That gave you a free place to live, free utilities, and free food. That also offered you access to being transported anywhere in the world if you ever wished it, not that you really wanted to unless the others needed you to. You had lost the will to travel after what happened with your ex, but it was nice that the option was there. Living there would gain you security, because there were at least three sorcerers at the Sanctum at any given time, not including Doctor Strange or Wong who were fully aware of your relationship problems.

They even said they could keep Jake from coming in if you gave them some of his hair. That was easy to do, and you did it, mostly because Peter and Gwen said they'd try to kick his ass if he showed up unannounced. You weren't sure if they meant the wizards, or themselves.

Plus your friends were there…

How could you refuse?

Notes:

***

Series Master List

***

None for now. Again, sorry for the short chapter.

Tags:

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

I'd Like to Adopt These Side Characters, Please (And Also Make One Arbitrarily To Appease The Vibes)

So, I've already mentioned my plans to write something for our dear single-minute-of-screentime-boys from the FNAF movie. And, as per usual for me, posting some headcanons will help the ideas flow for that WIP. . .

___

Jack Samar

His passengers always are, in fact, "the weirdos." It just seems to happen without fail. College partygoers crashing down from adrenaline (among other things) highs, random drifters that could all probably be in the same cult if you pay attention to detail, that one guy who's all too happy to take advantage of the open secret that the ducks in the park are free. . .Most of the time, it's nothing too serious. But he's still got some very interesting stories here and there.

He's one of the best drivers in town. And that's not just due to his job as a cabbie; he knows how dangerous driving can be, so he takes pride in making sure his skills are sharp. (Seriously, if you've ever driven a car, then you know it's practically a miracle to see someone else on the road who actually knows what they're doing.)

He has a steel-trap memory; he knows every part of town like the back of his hand. Constantly driving on various routes just has that effect on you.

He's a bit of a rescuer. As in, if he happens to see a stray animal while driving, then he'll park, coax said animal into the car, and then drop it off at at the local shelter. If you have him drive you from Point A to Point B, there's a good chance you'll spot a scruffy-looking cat or dog riding shotgun.

If he isn't too tired at the end of his shifts, he'll drive over to Sparky's for a late-night snack before heading home to rest. Both he and Ness are good listeners, so a decent chunk their banter is dedicated to venting about sucky patrons.

He's certainly aware of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria, as well as the rumors surrounding it, but he never really bothered with the place. And he doesn't plan to start bothering with it after seeing Golden Freddy in the back of his taxi.

Although. . .well, that occurrence might have made him start weighing the pros and cons of trying to get more information out of Mason. (He's very much hesitant about it, of course. Yeah, he was the one to help Mason out, but the assumption of Mason's experience with Freddy's is still far from pleasant.)

(Yes, his name is a pun inspired by Cory's samurai joke. What did you expect from me?)

___

Ness Aeoruhndbt-Ultendera

"Ness" is only his nickname, but he doesn't plan on revealing his full name anytime soon. Not even to his friends, for whatever reason. There's also a bit of an inside joke about how his surname is too long to actually fit on his nametag. (Yes, that gibberish my personal idea for his surname. I spent way more time working on it than I probably should have because I was determined to make a weird/funny reference, so leave me alone, okay?!)

He's been in the restaurant business ever since he was a kid; he's worked in several different joints before Sparky's. Coming from a family of foodies, he truly enjoys what he does, no matter how small-scale. Sure, some days are worse than others, but that's just life.

Similarly to Jack, it's not that uncommon for him to serve some strange characters. (Hell, sometimes the strange characters in question will wave down Jack's cab right after they've finished their meal at Sparky's.) Nothing usually comes of it, but he's still more than observant enough to pick up on certain oddities.

He makes a genuine effort to be polite and outgoing with customers. But make no mistake, he absolutely can, has, and will verbally curb-stomp someone if they push him or his coworkers too far. (Aunt Jane was lucky that her jab was minor. Plus, Ness just had other customers to focus on.)

It's no surprise that he LOVES conspiracy theories. Now, he knows which crackpot rabbit-holes to avoid, but he's still the type to listen to true crime podcasts almost religiously. In a way, researching and brainstorming is a comfort to him.

He's actually developed legitimate friendships with a specific few of Sparky's regulars. (Jack and Mason are part of this camp.) In fact, if there aren't many other customers that need tending to, he'll sit down and chat with them while they eat.

While he's perky during the day, he's still a night owl. It helps that his regular-friends almost always stop by in the late hours. (This has also paved the way for him to become a bit of a coffee-addict, but not to the point of concern. Speaking of which: he takes great joy in people's reactions to his argument that coffee is actually a type of soup.)

Oh, and that rubber-chicken-head-pencil-topper? Its name is Fabio, and Ness has been carrying it for several years now. He can't remember where/when/how he came into possession of Fabio, but you can pry it from his cold, dead hands.

___

Mason Kingsley

I wasn't originally planning to make a technical fanego for the FNAF movie. But after I learned that Mark was intended to make a cameo, I was intrigued. Thus, Mason—aka Trauma Boi—was born. His inclusion here (and in that future story I mentioned) is basically just a "What if?" scenario. As in, A. What if Mark had actually played the role of that first nightguard in the movie, and B. what if he'd actually survived his ordeal at Freddy's. . .?

Please read "survived," as "escaped by the skin of his teeth with grievous injuries and is now sort of dead inside."

Fittingly enough, Jack happened to by passing by when Mason fled the restaurant. It's pretty damn easy to stop for a guy who's covered in blood and cradling a broken arm and screaming for help.

After Jack drove Mason to the hospital, the two of them made an effort to stay in touch. Their respective patronage to Sparky's helps out with that.

Time passed, as it tends to do, and Mason eventually recovered. Keep in mind that the recovery was physical; he's still having night-terrors about animatronic monsters. Just the mention of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria will make him start shaking and murmuring under his breath, pale and tense.

He absolutely refuses to talk about the incident in detail, but it left some very obvious scars on his neck, chest, and arms. He's constantly trying to keep said scars covered.

Silver lining: shortly after recovering, Mason was able to adopt a therapy pet. Enter Checkers, a golden retriever who's just the best emotionally-tuned girl and is always by his side.

He stops by Sparky's for dinner once or twice per week. He wasn't too receptive to Ness' chitchat at first, but by now they have a solid friendship. (It started when Ness "accidentally" brought out a large side of bacon with Mason's order. Checkers most certainly appreciated that, so it's become a small tradition between them.)

(And just to clarify, because I KNOW someone is gonna read this and take it the wrong way: I'm NOT using this to try and whine about Mark's absence in the movie. It's really not too hard to understand that his own Iron Lung project has kept him INCREDIBLY BUSY. It's an amazing accomplishment for him, so of course it should take priority over a cameo in FNAF.)

___

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @bee-the-matpat-simp @insane4fandoms

[irradiatedpiratebooty]

Pleeeease do tell me more about Francis. Why did he leave the Children? Why did he join them in the first place? What did he do down in that bunker for three years, and what was getting out like? How did he meet the companions he hangs around with?

so, i'm gonna go in order of the timeline of events in his life. and please forgive some mistakes in the writing, i unfortunately didn't luck out with my abilities, and don't usually write anything more than footnotes. though i'm hoping the more I write out posts like this, the better i'll get :)

I also made goofy doodles to accompany the writing to compensate, and to better visualize what i'm trying to convey.

growing up, he mostly drifted from place to place with his family, which mostly consisted of him, his aunt, uncle, and two other cousins of his. his aunt adopted him at a very, very young age.

they mostly kept to DC, but eventually wanted to travel more east.

eventually though, due to family drama and disagreements, his family disbanded and he just traveled with his aunt. His aunt was VERY close with the rest of his family, so their departure took a toll on her.

she was pretty desperate to fill the void that was left, so when the children of atom offered relief from the feeling of abandonment, it didn't take much convincing.

the only catch was they had to leave DC and join the expedition to the commonwealth.

so, how did Francis join the children of atom?

Francis was about 18 at the time, and was used to just- going wherever his aunt went. so he didn't really question it and tagged along. He listened to the preachings and started to buy into the ideology himself. his aunt began to firmly believe too, so that helped condition Francis.

why did he eventually leave?

he left at the age of 20, knowing damn well what the cult does to dissenters. he was aiming to make it all the way back to DC and rejoin his family, but without the travel supplies that isn't realistically possible.

plus he's never been to Boston before, so he had no idea what direction to go in.

what did he do for 3 years?

he managed to wander his way to sanctuary, where he met Nate. (who i decided to make into an old ghoul, who protected vault 111 from the outside. he believed in the rumor that the vault was a cryo-facility, and that comforted him.)

Francis was half-dead when he wandered onto Nate's front yard, but Nate is nice and saw Francis as the exact opposite of a threat. think a newborn puppy on freshly polished tile.

he offered Francis his own bomb-shelter to stay in, taught him how to cook (which ended up being a new hobby for Francis.)

Nate is like a dad to him, so it worked out nicely.

Francis has high perception, and he's not stupid. (he just has TERRIBLE charisma)

so, with his S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes in mind, He began to question the fact Nate had never opened the vault, and tried to convince Nate to finally check in on his family. Nate refused at first, but after sleeping on the idea, he agreed. only to be met with the realization that his spouse was mysteriously murdered, son kidnapped, and only a recording of the crime. (thanks alternate start mod)

baffled by the fact that nobody ever opened the vault doors since the bombs fell, and now troubled with grief, Nate struggled to even face it all. Francis, wanting to repay Nate for giving him a place to live comfortably and safe from the cult who may use him to set an example for others who are thinking of turning their back on atom- promised that he'll seek out Nora's murderer, and most importantly, find their infant son.

where the rest of the game's plot plays out.

one thing to note though is his face markings. like the third eye of atom and the other rings around his face. usually its just makeup in game, but francis, at the time, wanted to prove his devotion in the most... non-lethal way he could think of. and so he got it basically tattooed. talk about regretful tattoos. with all that backstory being said, Francis is pretty happy most of the time!

sure, he's been through a lot, but he tries to see the positives in things. his main goal in life, during the acts in the main story, is to just finally have a place he can call home. maybe one with a comfy couch and a nice garden.

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Stray Ghost

Word count: 9203

Chapter 1: Lost Kitten

Summary:

“Are your parents around?” Shouta had avoided asking before, not wanting to scare the kid off.

“Nope.” Danny started picking the table, moving the cloth back and forth. He didn’t meet Shouta’s eyes, “They’re uhh…gone. Or I’m gone? It doesn’t matter, I haven’t seen them in a while.” There was a story there, but Shouta wouldn’t push. He knew a wound when he saw one.

“Any other family? An aunt or uncle perhaps?” He tried instead.

“Nope,” He laid his head on the table using his arms as a pillow, covering Digiorno from view, “none of those.”

“Are you staying with anyone?” Shouta already knew the answer to that question.

“Only if you count the cats as ‘someone,’” He sat up meeting Shouta’s gaze, “I’ve just been around.” ★~★

In other words, Aizawa Picks up a stray

Shouta had a thing for taking in strays. Everyday along his patrol route he had stops where he would feed the strays. He was so consistent that a small gathering of cats had started to assemble waiting for food. He learned to recognize them and would take them to the shelter when they got sick or needed to be neutered. As much as he loved cats, he didn’t want any more strays born on the street.  

Today should’ve been no different; fill the bowls of cat food, check the cats over, and then be on his way. As he approached the bowls hidden in the alley (he’s had problems with people stealing them or knocking them over when they’re in the open) he heard soft sounds of laughter and someone talking.  

The voice sounded young, a little high for a boy’s and a little low for a girl’s. Shouta was curious. Not many people were kind to strays, either worried they had fleas or ambivalent to them entirely.  

There, surrounded by a swarm of cats was a teenage boy. He had dark messy hair that covered half his face and dirty worn clothes. His jacket, which looks to have been originally red, was now a dirty mud color and was frayed. The cats rubbed against his legs and knocked into each other to be petted by his hands, he cooed at them in response. Somehow the teen sensed Shouta, and looked over. He saw the bag of food he was holding, and smiled with slightly sharp teeth. His face was just as dirty as the rest of him, giving him a manic look. The boy was clearly homeless or perhaps a runaway. Whatever he was, he was obviously alone.  

“Are you the one who feeds the cats?” he stood up, annoyed meowing underneath him at his prideful display.  

“I am,” Shouta walks over to the bowls and crouches down, the cats rubbing against him and yowling as if they were starving to death. He had to be careful of where he put his feet otherwise he would crush one of them, “Most people look down at this kind of thing, but I think it’s important.” 

“Yeah, people suck sometimes.” the teen laughed in agreement and put his hands in his jacket pocket. He had a smile on his face as he watched the cats quickly gorge on the food when it was all poured.  

“I have a few more stops to make if you want to come?” The city, while filled with heroes, still wasn’t safe for a kid. This way he could at least watch him and maybe learn more about him to help.  

“Sure, I got nothing to do.” He gave a lopsided grin and started walking out of the alley. Shouta petted a few of the cat’s heads and followed after him.  

“What’s your name kid?” The kid seemed easy going, a result of being naive or being used to the danger. No kid that young should be like that. He looked barely older than 15.  

“Danny.” He answered easily. The name sounded foreign, it could be he was mixed or from another country. Danny looked back at him, “Yours?” 

“Aizawa.” It would be weird to give him his hero name, even if he was on patrol. The boy hummed in response. “What brought you here, Danny?” 

“My legs,” He deflected sarcastically. Shouta supposed he walked into that one. It was probably a touchy subject, and they did just meet. “Are you doing just this today?” He pointed to the bag.

“This, and a few other errands.” The errands being hero work, but he could put that on hold for the boy. “The next stop is over here by the way.” Shouta pointed towards an upcoming alley.  

“On it!” Danny ran ahead, having to slow down when he almost missed the opening.  

Shouta quirked his eyebrow but kept the same pace. By the time he entered the alley, Danny was nestled with the cats like last time. One, whose name was Digiorno (named by Hizashi), cuddled up in his lap. He was an older fatter cat that Shouta had met when he was still a kitten. He tried to take him home, but he kept running away. He was a bit shy and Hizashi’s personality was just too big for him. It had even taken Shouta a few months to be able to pet the bastard. Danny though, his presence calmed him in a way Shouta’s couldn’t.  

“That one’s name is Digiorno,” Shouta crouched down beside them and filled the bowls like in the last alley. The cats all scrambled to the food except him. Instead, he just nestled deeper into Danny’s lap, curling onto his back. 

“He’s gonna die soon,” Danny petted under his chin as he purred, “Maybe tonight.” The boy’s smile was softer this time, a little sad. Shouta’s heart sank. It’s true that he was getting older and slower, but he had recently been checked out by the vet and they said he was healthy.  

“I can take him home with me to monitor him. He’ll be alright.” Shouta reached down to stroke his belly softly, the spot he always liked. 

“I think that's a good idea,” his voice dropped down to a whisper, “no one wants to die alone…” Shouta briefly stopped petting him and looked at the boy. There was a far off look in his eye as he gazed down at the cat. Perhaps he had lost someone close to him? Shouta only hummed.  

When it was time to go, Digiorno still clung onto Danny, his head resting between his neck and shoulder. Shouta took off his scarf and made a makeshift sling for him, wrapping some around Danny’s waist also, so all the weight wouldn’t be on his neck. Digiorno seemed happy inside it and sank between the strips. Shouta felt naked without it, but he was glad the cat was comfortable.  

They kept walking in and out of the alleys, a few cats coming up to lick Digiorno and rub on Danny. Most of the cats seemed more interested in him than the food. Molly, an almost feral girl, even came up to them. She would usually swat and hiss at the other cats but this time she paid them no mind. She walked up onto Danny’s lap and licked Digiorno on his face, grooming his cheeks. Digiorno licked back, leaving them both with wetted fur. Danny raised his hand to her, and she smelled it before licking him and rubbing the corner of her mouth on the tips of his fingers. Danny looked at her, and if Shouta was a little bit more unstable than he was, he would swear there was some sort of understanding between the two.  

It only took them 30 more minutes to finish feeding the cats. Shouta wrapped up the empty bag and stuffed it in his pocket to use next time. Danny leaned against the wall, gently petting Digiorno with a soft smile on his lips. People passed him, but never looked at him. It was like he wasn’t even there.  

“You hungry? It’s a little after lunchtime and I haven't eaten yet.” Danny looked up at Shouta and nodded. He was glad the boy agreed. If he played his cards right, he could get the boy into a shelter or somewhere safe tonight. 

They walked to one of Shouta’s favorite ramen places, a small family restaurant that he, Hizashi, Nemuri and Oboro used to go to as teens. The restaurant has since been passed down and slightly remodeled, but the food was still just as good. They sat down and ordered.  

“I’m gonna go wash up in the bathroom real quick, alright?” Danny pointed his thumb behind him. Shouta just nodded. 

Danny returned after a few minutes, his face and hands washed. Shouta’s guess of him being 15 looked right on the money now that he was able to fully see his youthful features. Freckles were splattered on his face, traveling down to his neck and under his hoodie. His blue eyes were bright, like the sun reflecting off snow. Despite their cold color, there was a warmth to them that Shouta felt he himself had lost long ago. One thing they did share were the eye bags that resided under them. Danny’s weren’t as set in as Shouta’s, but they still carried a chronic tiredness that made him want to yawn.  

Danny sat down in front of him and started looking around at the shop’s walls. There was a lot of art that the owners had let people do, for a price. It was one of the attractions since everyone wanted their own little corner. Shouta himself had a doodle or two somewhere on these walls.  

“Are your parents around?” Shouta had avoided asking before, not wanting to scare the kid off.  

“Nope.” Danny started picking the table, moving the cloth back and forth. He didn’t meet Shouta’s eyes, “They’re uhh…gone. Or I’m gone? It doesn’t matter, I haven’t seen them in a while.” There was a story there, but Shouta wouldn’t push. He knew a wound when he saw one. 

“Any other family? An aunt or uncle perhaps?” He tried instead.  

“Nope,” He laid his head on the table using his arms as a pillow, covering Digiorno from view, “none of those.”  

“Are you staying with anyone?” Shouta already knew the answer to that question. 

“Only if you count the cats as ‘someone,’” He sat up meeting Shouta’s gaze, “I’ve just been around.” 

“Have you thought about going to a shelter at all? There’s one for youths a few streets away, I could take you if you want?” Danny held up his hand to stop him.  

“That’s fine,” he propped his head on his hand, “I don’t know how well me and those places mix. It’s safer on my own.” He most certainly was not, but Shouta wasn’t going to argue with him.  

As if on cue their food was ready, and Danny’s eyes lit up when it was set down in front of him. He was drooling and swayed his body back and forth excitedly, like a dog shaking its tail.�� 

“Man, I haven’t eaten in a few days.” And with that he shoved a bite into his face with the chopsticks. Shouta was about to take a bite himself but was horrified, noodles falling back into the bowl. He stared at the boy with his mouth open. Danny didn’t notice and just happily continued eating. Shouta eyed him again, but decided it was better to feed the boy more. 

In between bites, Danny would feed a noodle to Digiorno, dangling it over him like a string. He would play with it until his nail snagged it down into his mouth. Feeding pets at the table, or simply having pets at the table was considered rude, but Shouta doubted anyone actually cared, and both the boy and cat were happy.  

Danny finished his noodles and raised the bowl to his lips to slurp it down, a few drops running down his chin and onto the cat, who licked it away happily. That boy could eat. Shouta was still only halfway through his own bowl. 

“You can order another one if you’d like?” Danny obviously needed it.  

“Really?” He scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t want to waste your money…” 

“Of course, feel free to order some other stuff as well. They make really good takoyaki.” 

“Thanks! I really mean it,” He held his hands up in a praying manner, “I’ll try to pay you back.” 

“No worries, I was going to order more anyway,” Shouta wasn’t, but he didn’t want to make the kid feel bad. Hizashi did like their takoyaki, so Shouta would bring some home.  

Danny's second bowl came out and he started eating it, slower this time, no longer as desperate for food. The takoyaki was set between them and Shouta ate a few after he finished his own bowl. 

“You know,” Danny laughed, stirring the ramen with a chopstick, “when I was a kid, I used to make my ramen with spicy mustard and hotdogs.” He took another bite. 

Shouta’s nose curled, imagining the flavor and texture. He took a drink of water to wash it out. Danny kept talking. 

“It was the easiest thing I could make, I just boiled it all together. I was a kid, so I thought it was pretty good. I still think it’s pretty good.” Danny had a somber look on his face, lost in a memory, “My parents always worked so we didn’t get a lot of home cooked meals, and if we did it attacked us or was just fudge.” That’s an alarming thought. What type of food would attack someone? Was it still alive? A better question is why would his parents put him into a situation like that? Shouta was almost glad that the kid wasn’t with them anymore. Almost. Because now the kid’s all alone.  

They finished eating shortly after that, Shouta ordering more takoyaki and some pork buns to take home. He didn’t have anything else for the day, already deciding to forgo hero work to look after the kid. They walked further downtown past all the shops and tourist traps. Every time Danny slowed down to look into the window, Shouta would go inside. The boy didn’t seem to notice this and just followed Shouta in. He smiled and followed behind him.  

He liked looking at the hero merch and would inspect the figures they had of them. He held up one in particular and showed it to Shouta. It was Hound Dog doing an attack pose at an unseen villain. 

“This one kinda looks like a friend of mine, Wulf, but he’s less green.” Danny started speaking a different language through the figure and then responded back in Japanese, switching between serious and silly facial expressions. He laughed and set it back down and then went to wander off somewhere else. Shouta grabbed the figure and took it to the counter, hiding it from Danny. There was some paint at the counter that they sold for custom figures. The only green they had left was a bright neon, that Shouta was sure wasn’t the same color as this ‘Wulf’. He added that and some black and white paint (so they could mix it to the right hue later) to the sale. Danny found him after his purchase and didn’t question the new bag, if he even noticed it.  

They went like that for a while, stopping in and out of shops with Danny picking out a few things he liked now and then. He got really excited when they passed a shop dedicated to space and the hero, Thirteen. He was bouncing back and forth like a runner preparing for a jog. Digiorno stood up in his sling and wacked him in the face, annoyed at his antics. 

“Sorry buddy.” Danny rubbed the spot, but there was no mark there. He gave Digiorno an affectionate scratch as an apology.  

“Do you like space?” a soft smile spread to Shouta’s face. The boy blushed and looked away, embarrassed. 

“Yeah…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I uhh- when I was younger I wanted to be an astronaut,” The same smile appeared on his face, the same one at the ramen shop when he talked about his parents, “I would study all night about space, physics, the effect of zero gravity on the body,” his head bobbed back and forth listing things, “I don’t think I can now, even if it weren’t for my… quirk, my grades sucked.” 

“What is your quirk?” During their whole day together, neither of them brought up the subjects of quirks or heroes.  

“Uhh,” Danny thought for a moment, deciding whether to tell Shouta or not. It could be that he had a more ‘villainous’ quirk and was scared of getting made fun of or rejected. Shouta himself had similar experiences. He had the power to remove other’s quirks, and while it isn’t very powerful in of itself, it scared people that he could render them powerless. In elementary school, the kids would throw sand in his eyes so he couldn’t see them. Then in middle school, they just flat out ignored him. Things got better in high school when he joined class 1-A and met his little group. He was thankful to them.  

“To be determined?” Danny said after a pause, shrugging. His voice went higher, clearly failing to lie probably. It could be the kid was quirkless or had decided to not tell Shouta. That was his choice and Shouta knew how sensitive the topic was, but a part of him still hurt.  

They walked through the store, Danny was too occupied with space facts to notice Shouta put stuff in their basket. 

“Most people think the moon is a planet, but it’s actually not. It's earth's only natural satellite, which basically means it’s orbiting the earth independently of the sun, which makes it not a planet, apparently.” 

Shouta just nodded along, pleased that the boy was talking so much. Everything fascinated him, and he walked around the store with wonder in his eyes. Almost every knick-knack caught his interest; hoodies, caps, posters, and a lava lamp. It was starting to get difficult to hide all this stuff from him. Shouta placed the basket on the ground and gave an eye to one of the employees. At first, she looked confused but then Shouta made a head motion to Danny and a look of understanding lit up her face. Danny turned back wondering what was happening. 

“Someone just left their cart behind without paying.” Shouta nodded at the employee again who smiled knowingly. 

“Oh, that’s rude.” He shrugged and kept walking around. They had explored the whole store and were back at the door. Danny opened it, but looked back inside, clearly sad to leave, like a kid who didn’t get anything from an ice cream shop. He walked out after a second, holding it open for Shouta. He looked at him expectantly, but instead Shouta shook his head.  

“You wait out here for a second.” He tried to make his face blank to not reveal anything. Danny looked at him with confusion and squinted eyes, but didn’t protest, and let the door close. Shouta went to the cashier, and she had already started scanning things. 

“I was worried you were going to leave, and I would have to put this all back,” she joked. 

“Sorry to have worried you,” Shouta responded, ignoring the opening for small talk. She hummed and put the items in the bag. Shouta stopped her at the last thing, a hoodie with white cartoon stars decorating the outside while the inside was lined with a more realistic star scape. “I can hold that one.” She handed it to him after removing the tag. He paid her and left.  

He expected to see Danny leaning against the side of the building, petting Digiorno while he waited. Instead, he only saw Digiorno standing on his scarf, hackles raised and growling deeply. Shouta panicked, not being able to find Danny quickly enough. He panicked even more when he did. A little way across the street was a giant man with a shark head being thrown into the ground. All around people were screaming and running to get away. Danny was not one of those faces. Inexplicably, he was the one who threw the shark man. 

Shouta felt his face go slack and his jaw hang open. Of course, he was the type to run headfirst into danger and of course he was good at it. This didn’t help his panic any, and in fact made it worse. Danny was not one of his students, he had no idea what his limits were. Still- Shouta felt a curl of pride coil in his chest. He shook it off. Digiorno still sat on his scarves, which Shouta would need since he wasn’t sure his quirk would work on the villain. He set the bag down and placed the hoodie on top of it so it wouldn’t get dirty, then lifted Digiorno off and dropped him down again. The cat protested and smacked Shouta, but he was in a hurry so hardly noticed.  

Shouta sprinted to the chaos unfolding, watching in slow motion as the villain ripped a street sign out of the ground and used it as a bat against Danny. Fortunately, the boy was small and agile enough to jump over or duck every time it swung at him. What the hell was this kid's quirk?  

“Oh hi, Aizawa!” Danny waved at him with a wide excited smile on his face. He looked more alive in that moment than he had all day, his eyes glowing with a weird intensity that almost made them look like they were literally glowing. That was just the distraction that the villain needed to hit Danny, his small body bending on the pole as he was flung backwards onto the ground, a small crater broken beneath him.  

Terror seized in his chest, déjà vu of the first League attack and his students. Shouta activated his quirk in vain at the villain. He already knew nothing would happen since he was a mutant type. He closed the distance and swung his scarf around his arm right when he was about to punch Danny on the ground. Danny sat up, not an injury in sight. Shouta breathed a sigh of relief- which then was forced out of him when the boy jumped up to punch the villain in the face.  

The villain’s arms went up in reflex to feel his nose, clumsily stepping backwards, dragging Shouta with him. He had to untie it to not get flung into the air or crushed.  

“Get back!” He shouted at Danny who ran up to help fight. Why did kids want to get themselves killed in front of Shouta?  

“Oh, come on! I had it handled!” He shouted, he was still smiling ear to ear. He had an excited, almost frenzied look in his eyes.  

“You most certainly did not!” Danny was so much like his students, but worse. At least they listen to him sometimes. Shouta sighed, “Just aim for the feet and make sure to watch what I’m doing.”  

“Aye-aye!” Danny saluted and vaulted to the villain, who just recovered from getting his nose broken. Danny started attacking his feet, rapid punches that made a hard sound when they hit. The villain looked to be in pain, and kept trying to bend down and swat Danny, but the boy was too quick for him. Shouta tied one of his arms with the tape before another blow, then tied it to his opposite leg. Danny looked at him and smiled. 

“Pay attention,” Shouta scolded, wanting to avoid last time. He dramatically pouted but turned to the villain once more. It was almost a comical sight, the villain was bouncing back and forth with the use of only one leg and arm. It didn’t take much effort for Danny to kick out his final leg beneath him, causing him to topple over. Danny beamed, his face dirty once more from being thrown into the ground. Must’ve been a habit for him. 

Shouta walked over and restrained the villain with the last of his tape. He was still trying to get up, but he looked like a fish on land, which Shouta supposed he was.  

“Haha, talk about a fish out of water!” Danny joked. Shouta smiled at him, glad he was safe. That only lasted a second before reality caught up with him.  

“What the hell were you thinking?!” He activated his quirk, falling into the angry teacher persona. “You could’ve been really hurt!” 

“I told you, I had it handled.” He put his hands up in surrender, but still had an easy-going smile on his mouth, unaware of the risks. 

“That doesn’t matter! You’re still a kid, you aren’t supposed to be doing stuff like this.” Shouta rubbed the bridge of his nose, his hair falling down.  

“But I have been! And I’m good at it! Trust me, I’m able to take care of myself.” He crossed his arms and pouted once more. 

“Your quirk may be powerful, but it’s clear you lack training. You almost got both you and I hurt back there. You have to be more aware of your surroundings.” 

“I wouldn’t have let it hurt you, I was on the way.” For the first time he sounded serious. He didn’t care about his safety but clearly put others above his own. Problem child…  

Shouta relaxed slightly. He looked like such a kid. “Just do better next time.” Shouta’s face fell, realizing what he said. Shit…  

“Next time!” Danny’s face lit up, pout gone. That sealed the deal in Shouta’s mind.  

“Under supervision” he stressed, pointing a finger at him. Danny still smiled as he turned to go back to Digiorno.  

Shouta got out his flip phone and texted Hisashi to get the spare room ready. He responded quickly, asking if Nemuri or Tensei was going to stay over. Shouta responded with a ‘Nope’ and shut his phone. He knows that wasn’t the best option, but it would be funny and he still needed to get him back.  

He caught up with Danny just before he was about to pick up the cat. 

“Take off your hoodie first,” Shouta instructed. Danny looked at Digiorno then back at Shouta. 

“Why?” His face had the classic expression of teens when you tell them to do something.  

“You’ll see.” Shouta replied in way of an explanation. Danny shrugged and started unzipping his hoodie.  

As he did so, Shouta picked up Digiorno and the new hoodie, careful to leave the bags behind him and out of sight. When Danny was done, he could see the almost clean white T-shirt that was hidden underneath. Danny rubbed his arms, trying to hide some of the scars on his body. It was too late, Shouta had seen them.  

Each one was clearly from something different, some being burns and the others from jabs or slices. There was one in particular that caught Shouta’s eye. It was a Lichtenberg scar that traveled up his left arm. It would be impossible to hide due to the size, but it was the one Danny tried to shield the most. Lichtenberg scars typically only lasted 24 hours, so whatever happened to him it was recent. Pain and regret gnawed at Shouta's insides. He was supposed to be a hero, but he couldn’t save this boy from clear torture. How could someone get away with doing this to a child?! All the heroes failed him.  

“I’m so sorry,” Shouta couldn’t help but speak out. Danny gave him a twisted look, clearly uncomfortable at the attention. 

“What are you apologizing for?” He let out a little laugh, “You didn’t do anything.” 

And that was the problem. Shouta didn’t do anything to help him. He knew it was irrational but a voice in his head said that if he just tried harder, he could’ve saved him.  

“Are you safe now?” That was a stupid question. Of course he was safe, because Shouta wouldn’t let anything happen to him again.  

“I am.” The boy said with resolve, “They won’t hurt me ever again.” The kid was a fighter, he’d be alright.  

He was about to reach for Digiorno when he noticed the hoodie draped over Shouta’s arm.  

“What's that?” He pointed at the hoodie. Shouta moved Digiorno to one side of his body, the fat cat nestling between his neck like he did Danny.  

“This,” Shouta unfolded it and presented it to Danny, “is just something I’d thought you’d need.” 

Danny's mouth turned into the shape of an ‘O’ and his entire demeanor changed from a moment before. He shook his hands excitedly and reached for the hoodie, he looked back up at Shouta as if asking for permission. Shouta nodded and the boy took it and started examining it closer, feeling the soft fabric and staring at the stars. 

“Oh cool, it’s reversible!” He flipped it inside-out so that the galaxy was on the outside and put it on. The blues and whites of the stars brought out the shine in the boy’s eyes, making him seem almost a part of the cosmos. Shouta smiled, a warm feeling blooming inside of him. Oh yeah, Shouta was going to keep him.  

A cop came up to them, recognizing Shouta as a hero.  

“Afternoon, Eraser Head, sir” he greeted. Danny watched silently, but there was a sharp look in his eye. “I assume that villain over there is your work?” 

“It is,” Shouta nodded. Danny moved to stand behind him a little. The cop didn’t mind him and just went back to his job. 

“I see. Would I be able to get a report from you or ask you a few questions?”   

“I’m afraid I am off right now, but I can fax the report to your supervisor, detective Tsukauchi, later today.” Shouta didn’t have time for this right now, and he knew throwing out Tsukauchi’s name would get him to leave him alone.  

“Of course, sir, I mean Eraser head.” The cop gave a short bow, and walked off to his co-workers, who were loading the villain into a car.  

Shouta sighed, relaxing. It wasn’t that he found those types of interactions stressful, but they were certainly annoying.  

“What was that about?” Danny moved out from behind him, confusion on his face. It was clear that Danny wasn’t too familiar with the local heroes, and even if he were, it was doubtful he knew who Shouta was.  

“Ah, I’m a hero, so the man was just asking me a few questions. No need to worry yourself.” Danny’s face went through a series of emotions. First surprise, then awe, then confusion and finally concern. He went paler than usual.  

“You’re not gonna tell them about me, are you?” His voice sounded small, unsure. His eyes darted to Shouta to the street, deciding to run or not.  

“Not him specifically, but his supervisor.” Shouta watched him closely, “We’re acquaintances and he’s good at keeping information restricted, if that’s what you’re worried about?” Shouta quirked his eyebrow at the boy and nodded, relieved. Shouta would not question him about it, choosing to let the boy tell him in his own time.  

Danny reached for Digiorno, and Shouta gave the cat to him like he was a baby. Shouta grabbed some more tape from one of his many pockets, and wrapped the scarf around him like last time, and the two were off again.  

There were only a few shops left, but nothing had piqued the boy’s interest, so Shouta didn’t get anything. By this point, they were about to enter the food district.  

Shouta checked his phone again and finally read Hisashi's messages; 

3:08pm Did you take in another stray again? I hope it’s not feral like last time.  

3:08pm I had to get SHOTS honey, SHOTS! Not to mention the fleas…  

3:09pm Whatever you are planning just know I want no part in it!  

3:13pm I did clean the room like you asked  

3:14pm Ok I didn’t. It was already clean I just fluffed the pillows  

3:18pm Sho?  

3:20pm Shouta?  

3:22pm Honey?  

3:22pm Baby?  

3:22pm Darling?  

3:23pm Honey buns?  

3:23pm Light of my life?  

3:25pm Fine.  

3:28pm I don’t even care!  

3:31pm What time are you getting home?  

Shouta decided to respond with a simple: I’m going shopping. Do you want anything?  

Hisashi responded quickly; You~😙💛  

God, he was so cheesy. Shouta smiled at the phone. How about takoyaki?  

That is acceptable. Could you get the ingredients for Unadon? I’m feeling lazy and want to do something else tonight 😉👌🍆💦  

Shouta looked up at Danny to see if he noticed his facial expressions change. He was still focusing on the cat, bouncing on his heels like he was a baby that needed soothed. He looked up at Shouta, sensing his eyes, then looked at him confused seeing the change. Shouta ignored him and texted back Hisashi. 

Not tonight. You’ll see why  

😢  

Shouta shut his phone and wiped his face, trying to get it blank. Danny came up to him, his face a mixture of confusion and glee. Shouta groaned and walked ahead. Danny of course ran up to him and knocked into his shoulder playfully. Shouta just patted his head and ruffled his hair, not even realizing what he was doing. Neither of them commented on it and just continued walking. 

Danny naturally followed behind him. Neither of them was talking but they had grown used to each other, their steps in sync. It was strange. Shouta had always kept himself at a distance from others, even Hizashi at first. People had to pester him to open up and be around them, like a feral cat not used to people. He didn’t mind it and was even thankful for their intrusion. But with Danny, it felt natural. The kid overall had a weird energy, both electric and calming. Shouta thinks the boy felt a similar way since he hasn’t run off yet, even though he was clearly able to.  

He wanted to ask him so many questions; what was his quirk? Why did he react like that to the cop? And maybe most pressing of all, what happened to him? There had to be a reason this boy was out alone in the world. Shouta couldn’t imagine it was because of anything he did, but he knew people were cruel.  

Shouta will let the boy reveal it on his own time, he knows how much it hurts when people press an issue you’re not ready to talk about.  

They walked into the store, it was one of those mega stores from the U.S. It was seen as more of a novelty than a reliable store, but they had some stuff here that Shouta needed.  

“Can I give you a list and we'll meet back here in 30 minutes?” Shouta needed Danny to be distracted so he could go get him some stuff. Danny cocked his eyebrow but nodded. Shouta ripped off a page from the note he kept in his pocket and wrote some of what they needed. Most of the ingredients he made sure were close to each other and easy to find, so as not to overwhelm Danny. He handed the list to Danny and they went their separate ways.  

Shouta went to the clothes section. Danny hadn’t been wearing dirt long enough for it to be fasionable. There he picked up 3 pairs of jeans, 3 black and white t-shirts, PJs, and new shoes, since his were falling apart from all that walking. Shouta wasn’t sure what size Danny was, but he guessed, aiming close to bigger than smaller. He also got him a belt in case the pants were indeed too big. It wasn’t the best wardrobe, but it was a good start.  

Shouta checked the clock on the wall, and he still had 10 minutes left. Good. He could use that to buy these and get the rest of the food. He was able to successfully pull it off with a minute to spare. He had gotten a larger bag to condense all of the boy’s gifts without it being too heavy.  

He went back to the designated spot and waited for Danny. A few minutes went by and the boy had yet to arrive. Panic started seizing Shouta’s chest. Had he gotten into another fight? Did he run away or get lost? He was put at ease when the boy came around the corner- without the cat.  

Shouta studied him, looking for any sign of distress. Instead, he was beaming and waved to Shouta like he had with the villain, naive to how the situation looked from the outside. He had a spring to his step as he finally reached Shouta.  

“I wanna show you something!” Danny swayed his body excitedly, playing with the tassels on his hoodie. Now that there was no cat, Danny wore the capture tape as a normal scarf. If Shouta ignored a few factors, Danny looked a lot like him when he was in school. They even had the same haircut. He tried to ignore the sudden attack of his beating heart. He could only imagine Hizashi’s reaction.  

“Where’s Digiorno?” Shouta didn’t hesitate in asking. Danny didn’t seem worried, so it wasn’t likely anyone had taken him from him. Shouta doubted they could though. He had seen how strong the boy was. It could’ve been that Danny didn’t even realize the cat was missing. In that case it would be better to start looking for him sooner before he got too far. 

“That’s what I wanted to show you!” His smile grew brighter as he turned around, revealing a cat carrier backpack. It looked like a rocket ship, Digiorno’s face in the window like he was blasting off.  

“Cute.” Shouta commented. 

“It was on sale,” Danny beamed again, this time his voice taking a prouder tone, “I had some left-over money and I just couldn’t pass it up!” 

That confused Shouta slightly. He was under the impression that the boy had nothing to his name. Although, that might have been a bit presumptuous of him. There are plenty of ways to get money on the street. His mind soured thinking of the implications of that, a grimace almost slipping onto his face. It was better to ask the boy and give him all the support he needed.  

“How’d you get the money?” Shouta tried not to let anything slip into his voice, watching the boy with one eye for any reaction. 

“Just some odd jobs here and there,” Danny shrugged. He had an odd look on his face as he watched Shouta, “there’s an old guy that pays me to move boxes for him to his coffee shop. He’s nice and even gives me food after.” He started chewing on one of his tassels at the mention of food.  

Shouta reached into his giant bag of bags for the takoyaki. It was lukewarm by now and on the cusp of needing to be thrown out, but it was editable enough. He handed it over to Danny, who opened it without hesitation and started munching down. Him and Hizashi were similar in that aspect.  

“I got what we need so we can go now.” Shouta began walking out of the store, knowing that Danny would follow along. It felt like they’d been doing this for a while or had at least known each other for a longer than they had. It felt nice in a weird way. It didn’t feel like it did when he was with Hizashi or even with his students.  

“Where are we going now?” Danny asked, mouth half full of food. It had only been a few hours, but he seemed more relaxed than when Shouta had first met him. It was clear that the kid was putting on a front before, but through the day had slowly let it fall. 

“Back home.” Shouta hummed, not really paying attention. Danny slowed down behind him then stopped. Shouta turned back and saw a blank face with far off eyes. He was about to ask what was wrong when it was suddenly washed away by a smile like before, but his eyes still had that same look.  

“Huh,” He laughed, “‘home,’” he said it like the word tasted weird in his mouth, “haven’t heard that word in a while.” His hands looked awkward, not knowing what to do. Finally, they wrapped around his body like a hug, or something to keep him contained from exploding. 

The boy never let himself have a sad look on his face, and if he did, he wiped it off quickly. Shouta wondered if that was to make others feel better or himself. He already knew the answer. You don’t smile for other people if you’re used to being alone. The boy had clearly been through a lot and kept it bottled up inside. It was too dangerous on the streets to show that kind of vulnerability. Shouta had to show him that it was okay somehow. There was a bench behind them and Shouta sat down. Danny followed but did not sit. His eyes were curious about what he was going to do.  

“You know,” he started, unsure what he was going to say, “I didn’t have a place until recently.” Danny looked up at him, but Shouta looked away. It was uncomfortable to talk about, even if he wanted to help the boy. “It wasn’t as bad as what you’re facing, but it still left something heavy in me.” Shouta rubbed his chest, reflexively, “My parents weren’t ever around, always working or whatever they did at night. Sometimes, they would leave food in the fridge or money on the table, but it was never enough. I hated being in that empty house so I would wander the streets. Got into a few fights too, nothing compared to that villain, just some people who tried to jump me.” He looked down at his hands. It sounded so silly as an adult, but as a kid it deeply affected him.  

“I-” Danny’s voice broke. He moved to sit next to Shouta, a comfortable distance apart. He coughed, “My parents were very similar, except they never left the house. My sister was the one who raised me, but she was only 2 years older so there wasn’t much she was able to do. I hated how much she babied me cause she was just a baby herself. She’s still like that,” he laughed but it was hollow, “They would try every once in a while. For my birthdays they would get me big gifts like a Lego set or working model rockets,” he that same look, a bittersweet sadness lost in a memory, “They stopped after I was around 13. It was like I didn’t even exist.” His eyebrows furrowed and he had a lost look in his eye, as if trying to understand them. His parents already sounded awful, but Shouta got the nasty feeling it was going to get worse. It was weird, Shouta wasn’t the best with emotions, his or others, but for some reason he wanted to reach out and comfort Danny.  

“I did a lot of stupid shit to get their attention. But they would just yell and then go back to forgetting about me. On the rare occasions they were out, I would bring my friends to their little lab. They had a project they were working on that they called ‘their baby’ cause I guess we were just roommates at that point.” Danny tried to laugh but it came out more like a scoff, “I hated that thing. It had stolen all my parent’s time and then had the gall to not even work. They rather hang out with trash than us. Me and my friends were hanging out when one of us got the bright idea to try to fix it. None of us were thinking, but it sounded like a good plan. If I could somehow fix that thing, my parents wouldn’t waste all their time on it. If I broke it, well maybe they would just give up.” Danny had a look of frustration on his face with a touch of glee, as if reliving that moment. The excitement at the prospect of getting his parents back along with the cockiness of a teenager.  

His face slowly fell, rubbing the palm of his hand with the Lichtenberg scar. “That didn’t happen.” His face darkened and a bitter expression twisted his youthful features, “Next thing I knew I was in the hospital. Only my sister and friends were there. You see,” he turned to Shouta, a sarcastic and frenzied smile on his lips, “somehow, I managed to fix the damn thing, so my parents were off, fussing over their favorite baby.” he sneered, then set his elbow on his knee, holding his face in his hand. He stared out at the street, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.  

Shouta hated Danny’s parents. What type of people would abandon their hurt child for some hunk of metal? The same hunk of metal that put him in the hospital. Danny’s whole story just brought up the question of what type of people they were. Not only have they neglected and put their own children at risk, but also the children of others. They could’ve very easily installed a lock or even an alarm to keep them out. Hell, the thing shouldn’t have even been in the house if it was so dangerous. They sounded more like villains than loving parents. One thing Shouta was sure of was that Danny was never going to see them again.  

When Danny spoke again it was quieter, smaller, “It wasn’t until later that I learned what the thing took from me…” And that broke Shouta. He wrapped his arms around Danny, pressing the boy’s face into his chest. Danny went rigid at first, but relaxed into it, wrapping his own arms around Shouta’s back. Danny was so small despite his earlier strength. It felt like he was holding a kitten rather than a teenager.  

“Why weren’t we enough for them?” his voice had completely broken, and it was clear that he was trying to hold back sobs, “We needed them and they turned away!” he pulled Shouta tighter, his fists gripping his jumpsuit. “We tried so hard to be enough for them! We behaved, we studied, we did everything to get their attention but it was never enough!” He started sobbing at this point, “My sister, she tried so hard! She was the top of the whole school, but they could barely spare her a glance! I watched as she destroyed herself studying. If she’s not good enough for them, how could I ever be?” He continued sobbing into Shouta’s chest, his tears making his shirt wet. Inside, Shouta was crying with the boy, he could even feel his eyes start to burn. He held him tighter, bringing one hand up to stroke his hair and he laid his chin on top of his head, as if to shield him from the world.  

“You are enough.” He soothed, “You always have been enough.” God, how do you explain that to a child? How do you explain that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them? With care, that’s how. 

“Your parents couldn’t see that. They don’t deserve you, if they did, they would’ve been there. Every good parent would’ve been there. You and your sister were so strong when you never should have had to, to begin with.” Danny sobbed again, hiccupping. It had probably been a while since he was able to cry, when he felt safe enough to cry.  

Shouta remembered the days of being a teenager, of holding it all in and crumbling down when he was alone, until he taught himself not to cry. He had told himself that was strength and he was strong for it, but he had never been so weak. Hizashi had truly saved his life. Without him or Nemuri and Oboro, Shouta was sure he wouldn’t be here now. He would’ve exploded with everything else inside him. Shouta wants to be that for Danny. To show him that he’s safe and won’t ever be unloved or abused like that again.  

Danny kept crying into Shouta’s chest and Shouta let him, staying and holding him until he was able to get it all out.  

It was starting to get dark, the summer sun in the sky going to bed early under a blanket of clouds. It will be a cold night, it might even rain. The rest of the people on the street were thinking similarly and had all moved to go back into their warm homes. An overwhelming peaceful feeling settled into Shouta's chest, one he hadn’t felt for a while. He thinks Danny was the reason for it. The boy had stopped crying, and now leaned against him, using his shoulder as a pillow. Like before, neither of them commented on it. It had felt so natural that to call it out would be like disturbing a forest.  

Danny had glazed over eyes. They were red and puffy from crying too much. They also had a look of tiredness, the eyes of someone too stubborn to let sleep in. Crying takes a lot out of someone, no matter their age. Teenagers get so egotistical when they’re really just tall children (adults too).  

Shouta checked his phone again. It had been almost an hour since he said he would be back soon and Hizashi was freaking out. Maybe he should tell him of his little surprise, a child is not something to spring on someone. Still- Shouta thought back to their last anniversary. They had gone out of the district to the biggest karaoke bar in Japan. Shouta didn’t remember much of it, drinking to turn out Hizashi’s drunken love ballads, but somehow, Hizashi had traded the motorcycle that Shouta had just given him for a hot pink moped with cheetah print seats. They had to drive back home on that thing.  

Don’t worry, I’m not dead. Be home soon.  

Not soon enough!!! 😠  

Too bad.  

When Hizashi didn’t immediately respond Shouta texted: 

Also, the takoyaki is gone.  

Traitor! 😦😡  

It was warm anyway.  

I still would’ve eaten it 😾  

I know. I just saved your life.  

Is the other food still good?  

Of course. I’ll be home soon so they don’t get bad. I love you.  

I love you too 😙💛  

But make sure you’re actually home soon cause I am hungry  

👍  

Danny was still leaning against Shouta and the same feeling of regret filled him as if he was about to move a cat. It would’ve been a sweet sight if the boy didn’t look like a corpse. That did help motivate him somewhat. Shouta gently patted Danny’s shoulder, not too hard or sudden to startle the boy, just enough to wake him.  

Danny suddenly took a deep breath in as if he were just resuscitated and looked around for a threat. Digiorno growled from being shaken but was unable to attack either of them since he was in the carrier. That seemed to calm Danny, and he completely settled when he saw Shouta.  

“Ugh, how long was I out for?” He rubbed his eyes, a yawn escaping from his mouth. 

“A few minutes.” Shouta responded. So the boy was asleep. Creepy, but a useful skill. “The bus leaves in a few minutes if we want to get home soon,” Shouta stood up and stretched. His back and butt aching from the hard bench. 

“Right, home.” he said the word sadly, but not as much as last time. An embarrassed look spread across his face, “Hey, uh, sorry for like, crying and stuff,” he looked away from Shouta and scratched his neck again. He had been doing that a lot today, it was probably a nervous tic.  

“Don’t feel bad about it. I’m happy I was able to help, at least in some small way. Just try to remember you don’t have to take the world on by yourself, alright?” It was clear that Danny needed a lot of support, definitely counseling too. He wants the boy to feel safe talking about his feelings.  

“Yeah, whatever.” Danny started to kick the gravel nearby, pretending not to listen. 

“Come on,” Shouta patted him on the head again, “we have to hurry if we want to catch the bus.” 

And they started walking again. Danny walked slightly behind him, his head going back and forth at every sound or looking out for danger. The kid might have been opening up to Shouta, but it was clear he was still used to being on the streets. It was good survival instincts, he wished his students were this diligent, but it made him sad that this was what Danny was used to. 

Truly, it was only a few minutes away, and Danny relaxed again in the bus. He leaned against Shouta and dozed off, similarly to how he did before, holding the carrier on his lap.  

Digiorno had crawled out of the flap and onto Shouta’s lap. Everyone was using him as a bed today. He purred as Shouta stroked him back and forth. Was he really going to die? He had seemed fine all day, if a bit slow. Shouta thought back to the villain fight. Digiorno didn’t run away or even move despite how scared he was. Was it a problem with his joints? Did it hurt to move? While the cat laid in his lap, Shouta looked him over. There was some loose skin where his pouch used to be, and his fur had gotten lighter. His fur also had a rougher, almost coarse texture. How come Shouta didn’t notice this before?  

Cats were very close to his heart and had even saved his life. After Oboro died, he took in Sushi. He didn’t care about himself and let his needs go. One day, Sushi got sick. He rushed her to the vet clinic already crying at the prospect of losing his friend all over again. Fortunately, she was just dehydrated, but his lack of care had nearly killed her. Shouta had neglected his own needs in his grief and had almost killed her because of it. He had to learn to take care of another living thing, and in doing so, he learned he had to care for himself too.  

This care extended to the stray cats, and he met Digiorno not long after. He tried to find the strays good homes, but Digiorno always ended up on the street again. Maybe he was similar to Danny in that way, thrown away not because of anything he did, but because of the cruel world around him. Looking back, Shouta quietly beat himself. If he had tried harder, would Digiorno be dying right now? There were so many cats to look after, but only if he had been slightly more diligent, this wouldn’t have happened. No, he couldn’t think like that. It was just an offhand comment from Danny. The kid was odd in a few places, but Shouta was pretty sure knowing when someone was going to die was not in his wheelhouse. The kid was too full of life to be anywhere close to death.  

Still, those thoughts ate at him the whole bus ride. He should call Ms. Shuzenji to check Digiorno over, maybe even Danny. He sent a quick text to her, shaking his foot until she responded. She said she would be able to stop by in a few hours, which was better than nothing. 

[shadowmaat]

A Tale of Misdelivery

A while back my best fiend, slwalker, visited to hang out. She likes drinking tea and was appalled to discover I don't have a kettle, so she ordered one off Amazon for me to fill the kettle-shaped hole in my life.

A few days after she left, it was delivered (she knew it wouldn't get here til she was gone). I've been using it for cocoa ever since. Which should be the end of the story.

HOWEVER.

Best fiend has a clutch of adorable kitty cats. Those kitty cats like to eat and were running out, so she ordered more food off Amazon to be delivered to her house. You can probably guess where this is going.

I was mystified to find an Amazon package sitting on my doorstep. Not only because I hadn't ordered anything, but because it had been dropped off by the USPS truck and traditionally they either leave it at the end of the driveway by the mailbox or they leave a slip saying I have a package.

I opened it up, saw the cat food, and knew exactly what had happened. I let Best Fiend know and made plans to drop the food off at the animal shelter after the weekend.

This is where it gets convoluted.

It's Monday, but I haven't had a chance to get to the shelter yet. I did, however, get a visit from my aunt, who had just left after going for a walk with my mom.

In the back of her car she had an Amazon package. For me. She'd been to the post office because, unlike me, she has a PO box. She got a notice she had a package, picked it up, and as she put it in the car, realized it had MY name on it, so she dropped it off on her way back home.

I didn't have to open it to know what it was and informed Best Fiend that another package had been misdelivered by Amazon. She, however, said that it was just the second half of the original order. Which somehow wound up with my aunt's PO box.

Here's where it gets fun.

My aunt got divorced and has gone back to her maiden name, so it isn't like they just saw the surname and got mixed up. Which could be a case of someone at the post office knowing who both of us are and making a weird connection.

HOWEVER.

It's worth noting that my aunt had a son who did share my surname. He got married and inherited our grandmother's house, which is two down from me. When he died, his widow sold the house and moved in with Aunt until she could get new housing arrangements finalized. So she (and her kids) have the right surname and lived two houses down, which makes it possible that someone saw the surname and street address and went "AHA! Mail forwarding!" which is how it wound up with my aunt.

That still doesn't explain how two parts of the same order got delivered to two different addresses (both of them technically wrong), but between Amazon's general fuckery and the mess the US postal system has become thanks to DeJoy, anything could have happened. We should probably be glad we got both boxes at all.

The shelter, at least, will be able to put the food to good use. I think they only have one cat in at the moment, but there will always be more, and they also have a program to make food available to cat owners who otherwise have trouble affording supplies. It all works out. Just weirdly.

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

JON SNOW DAY 7: FOILS AND ADVERSARIES ⚔️🦹‍♂️ JON SNOW - YOUNG GRIFF

On ADWD, we find out during Tyrion’s pov chapters that the long dead prince Aegon Targaryen (son of Rhaegar) has supposedly survived the sack of Kings Landing - which caused his mother and sister’s lives- and is secretly living in Essos all these years. It could make an interesting Anastasia-vibes story if Aegon was who he says he was, however introduced so late in the story, the boy is probably a fraud - even if he has no clue about it. This meta is treating the theory of Aegon not being the actual child of Rhaegar and Elia as canon and similarly considers Jon being Rhaegar and Lyanna’s actual secret child.

So we have one prince who isn’t who he claims and believes to be and another one who doesn’t even know he’s a Targaryen. It’s quite the symmetry with both boys around the same age ignoring the truth so far.

Let’s start comparing them from their appearance. I find it ironic - and also fitting- that Martin made the “fake” Targaryen having the family’s traditional looks with silver hair and purple eyes. Meanwhile, the boy who is actually a Targaryen is favoring his mother’s Stark look:

"Your father's lands are beautiful," he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's.  

ADWD - THE GRIFFIN REBORN

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away.  

AGOT, TYRION II

Aegon has lived a sheltered life with the adults surrounding him, pampering him. That has lead him to remain immature as a teenage boy (which isn't a bad thing itself, just doesn't make him the ideal leader)

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candled ginger. He was always fond of it"

ADWD, TYRION III

The lad did not seemed pleased. The perfect prince but still half a boy for all that, with little and less experience of the world and all its woes.

ADWD, TYRION VI

Meanwhile, Jon grew up aware of his bastard status. Compared to his siblings, he was less privileged and less pampered. All the experiences of his life, both as a neglected kid and as a teen black brother  made him observant of others and also mature for his age:

"I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says that bastards grow up faster than other children".

AGOT, JON I

They know nothing, Ygritte. And worse, they will not learn.

ADWD, JON XIII

Aegon grew up thinking that he was the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdom. Naturally, this has led him to feel entitled of things he hasn’t earned himself. For example; he believes that his aunt, Daenerys, will be willing to marry him and offer him her large army only because he’s her nephew:

It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne … assuming that our fair Daenerys takes you for her consort.“

"She will. She must.”

“Must?” Tyrion made a tsking sound. “That is not a word queens like to hear. You are her perfect prince, agreed, bright and bold and comely as any maid could wish. Daenerys Targaryen is no maid, however. She is the widow of a Dothraki khal, a mother of dragons and sacker of cities, Aegon the Conqueror with teats. She may not prove as willing as you wish.”

“She’ll be willing.” Prince Aegon sounded shocked. It was plain that he had never before considered the possibility that his bride-to-be might refuse him. “You don’t know her.”

ADWD, TYRION VI

On the above passage, Aegon was so certain that Daenerys would be willing to become his bride that even the possibility of her refusing him shocked him.

Compare that to Jon, who his whole life was entitled to nothing. He was aware that unlike his siblings he wouldn’t be handled things because of the family name - something he didn’t have- and that instead he would have to work his way to earn his place in the world:

“I want to serve in the Night's Watch, Uncle."

He had thought on it long and hard, lying abed at night while his brothers slept around him. Robb would someday inherit Winterfell, would command great armies as the Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be Robb's bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name. His sisters Arya and Sansa would marry the heirs of other great houses and go south as mistress of castles of their own. But what place could a bastard hope to earn?  

AGOT, JON I

When Jon went to the Wall, nothing was handled freely to him. Jeor Mormont only paid attention to him after he became the unofficial swords teacher for his fellow new recruits and after he persuaded Maester Aemon to include Sam among those who would be promoted to Black Brothers. It was his own skills and accomplishments that made him Commander’s steward and it was his brave fight against the wight that earned him Mormont’s sword.

He doesn’t expect people to freely give him things, he understands that every gift comes with a price. Just like when Stannis told him that he would make him Lord of Winterfell, but only if he converted to the Red God.

On ADWD, Varys gives a speech  on why Aegon is the ideal leader:

“No.” The eunuch’s voice seemed deeper. “He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them.”

This impressive list of traits that Aegon has aquired in order to rule one day, is missing the most important one: actual personal experience. Aegon might have been working and interacting with the common folk but he was always sheltered and was surrounded by adults loyal to him and his case. It’s not the same to do some kind of work because you want to learn the experience with doing something for living. He doesn’t really know what is like to be hungry- even if Varys tells us otherwise- because his caretakers would never let him actually be starving. When Aegon was afraid, he was always surrounded by people loyal to him  who could offer  him reassurance or simply their sympathy.  Finally, he doesn’t have any experience in ruling. Many people speculate that Varys and Illyrio are shaping him to become their puppet king but even if that isn’t the case fact remains that Aegon never ruled anywhere.

Unlike him, his supposed half brother had a little guidance when he became Lord Commander.  Maester Aemon, his best advisor, left the Wall not long after Jon was elected as the new Lord Commander. Jon had to navigate ruleship on his own without the help of a wiser adult. Unlike Aegon, Jon had the experience of truly serving before he was in a position of power - as he was a steward and later on he lived among free folk. He was also experienced in being truly afraid and terrified even when people who can comfort you are miles away and you are all alone.

We don’t know whether Aegon will put his people first because he has yet to rule. But we do know that Jon constantly prioritizes humanity’s well being. That’s why he made dealing with the Others his number one priority and that’s also the reason why he let the free folk on the south side of the Wall.

While Aegon is another candidate fighting for the Iron Throne because he feels entitled to it, Jon is fighting against the Others to save humanity.  

Bonus! their views on women.

Aegon’s:

"That's so," the boy said, "and who is there left in Westeros to oppose us? A woman."  

ADWD, THE LOST LORD

Jon’s

The women are the strong ones.

ADWD, JON III