#;; we have ten days to decide if we adopt or not and i am going to SAAAAVOR these ten days whether it’s all we have or not 🥹

[kaerinio]

TOMORROW I AM GOING TO HAVE TWO KITTENS LIVING IN MY HOME!!! 🥹🥹🥹

[totaly-obsessed]

The Weight of Expectations

Alexia Putellas x reader

-> Happy Birthday to my darling @greynatomy, love ya!

-> Alexia struggles through the IVF journey and turns mean

-> Talk of pregnancy, alcohol and abuse

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”

Oh. Alexia was home, something new. You were currently in the bathroom closest to the bedroom, heaving up anything that you had eaten, even the light soup. 

For a couple of days, you had been like this, and two days ago you had finally done a test. A pregnancy test. This was the last IVF round before Ale and you had to start considering other options like adoption. The first 2 rounds had failed.

Positive. The goddamn test was finally positive.

Immediately you had made an appointment for a blood test to get done. You just had to be sure before telling Alexia. The blonde already blamed herself, thinking she had waited for too long, hesitant to have a child while in the midst of her career before she finally committed to it.

You had been so incredibly happy when she came to you after a game. Tears streamed down your face when she told you that she was ready to have a child. With you.

The disappointment of two failed attempts weighed heavily on Alexia. She desperately tried to console you as you cried, hiding her own tears in her pillow when you finally passed out. How could she be sad when you had to go through the physical aspect as well?

She shouldn't have waited that long, maybe 29 was too old.

After that things changed. She had left for Spain camp, and after that, she threw herself back into work in Barcelona. Her surgery was healing well and she was getting better and better by the day.

Meanwhile, you were sat at home, trying to understand the change in your wife. Did you do something wrong? With the previous tries the footballer had been so involved, checking in on you multiple times a day when she was at training. 

And now? Nothing.

Alone you had gone to the blood test yesterday, not even needing an explanation for your wife, who came home after you had gone to bed and left before you woke up.

Eight Weeks. You were already two months along. In Alexia's absence, you had completely forgotten to test, wanting to do it with her.

As soon as you had gotten the confirmation, the morning sickness hit ten times harder. Who even decided to call it that? Morning sickness… What a stupid fucking name. The whole day was filled with sudden cramps and vomiting.

And you had done it all alone until now. 

But Alexia was here now, yelling in the kitchen, before she stomped up the stairs to the bathroom, looking into every door available on her way. She was looking for you.

She hesitated for a second, seeing you crouched on the floor, head over the toilet, and pale as the white wall behind you.

“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”, she yelled again, now in your face.

“I am serious Ale, what's up?”

This was the first time you had seen her in a couple of days, her roots were starting to show, as did the bags under her eyes. But the rest of her body looked stronger than ever, the countless hours in the gym paying off.

“The kitchen is a mess, you didn’t do the laundry and you didn't mop the floors either. Look how filthy it is in this house!”

Wow.

You didn't know what you had been expecting. But definitely not this.

With slow movements you pushed yourself up, using the sink to help balance yourself. Fuck were you dizzy.

“W- What did you mean?” You hated how meek your voice sounded after your wife practically yelled at you.

Her face was red, and her eyes looked like she had been bitten by the devil, spit gathering at the corners of her mouth.

Crazy. She looked really fucking crazy, and it was terrifying.

“¿En serio?”

“Let’s just go downstairs, I made dinner and we can talk about it.” 

With a scoff the blonde turned on the spot, stomping down the stairs, leaving you in the bathroom. Tears threatened to fall. What has happened?

With your nausea, it took you a bit longer to navigate the stairs. Every step hurt, but Alexia couldn’t care less about your pain-filled noises. She was busy stabbing a fork into her dinner, already scarfing a plate of your favorite pasta dish down.

“Finally. God, you always take so long.”

The words were filled with hate as she spat them at you, not even noticing that a bit of the sauce was flung onto her cheeks. 

You couldn’t help but smile a bit, she had never managed to eat without making a mess of herself and the table. With a damp cloth, you tried to wipe the spot away, but when she hit your hand away from her, the cloth sailed to the floor as you looked at her. Eyes wide in panic.

“I am not your goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

Your wives' usually warm eyes pierced your heart even more. Was this really the same woman who would carry you to bed every night, even after grueling training and rehab sessions?

The tears you had breathed away were back, a painful sensation in your eyes as Alexia continued to devour the meal you had prepared with so much excitement to tell her as if it didn't mean anything.

“This tastes like shit. Not even good for cooking.” She threw the fork on the plate, the clattering sound ripping you out of your shock-induced trance. “Do you want me to make you something different?

Your wife looked terrifying. Her eyes were wide open with small pupils that moved around quickly, looking you up and down before making their way through the house. The rest of her face was stoic, a facade she had perfected over the years. One that she didn’t usually use with you.

“No. I don’t want new food. I want you to get yourself together.”

The room filled with a heavy silence that nearly made you gasp for air. What did she mean?

“Amore I don’t know what has gotten into you, but maybe we should just go for a quick walk? Get some fresh air?”

That was the final nail in the coffin for the footballer, who stood up with such force, that the chair slid back and toppled over with a startling noise.

“Fresh air? You want fresh air?” She was getting in your face now, hunching a little to really get close. “Do you know what I want?”

Her breath was warm as it hit your nose.

Alcohol. You could smell alcohol.

She was a mean drunk, snapping at anyone who dared to get too close to her, her dog, or you. But just like her stern face, you were usually safe from her drunken attitude. Your wife always pushed you behind her as soon as anything looked like trouble.

This was new and you hated it.

“What do you want Ale?”

the defender had emptied your cup of coffee in one go, slamming the mug down on the counter.

“What do I want? I a housewife that can actually do her fucking job!” She was yelling now, some of the words accentuated with harsh hand movements and slight pushes to your shoulders.

“And look at how you let yourself go. Fucking pathetic! How can I even show myself in public with you?”

Shit that hurt.

You were finally pregnant with a very much wanted child, and she acted like this after leaving you alone for such a long time.

“Gained so much weight it’s-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You didn't yell. You didn’t shout. You said it with a normal voice. Well as normal as you could with tears threatening to spill.

But it was enough to quiet the drunk blonde. 

“Pregnant? You’re pregnant?”

It felt as if she was looking at you for the first time when her eyes softened and her whole body slumped. She fucked up. And she knew it.

In a frenzy you started packing things, throwing stuff into a suitcase while your wife tried to stop you. “Where are you going? Amore, please! I am so sorry!”

But it was too late.

With a suitcase and Alexia’s car, you made your way to Eli’s house, you had no one in Spain, all your family back home, so you decided to turn to your wife's mother who loved you to no end and had spent a lot of time at your house while Alexias had been ‘busy’ the last few weeks.

Alexia watched as you left. You were pregnant with a child that she wanted so badly, and she fucked it up.

Tomorrow she will make up for it. She really will.

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

This is how I think Astyanax would know react to being told what happened at Troy.

Context: Odysseus and Astyanax are trapped in Calypso's island. Unfortunetely, Zeus is bored, so he sends a message (maybe a letter? Maybe he just sends Hermes and call it a day?) to fuck things up a bit and mess with Odysseus. It works wonders. Nine years old Astyanax reacts poorly.

Here's what happens when Odysseus finds him after receiving the message.

The sun was about to set, filling the silence with the sound of the waves hitting the beach. Only Odysseus had the audacity to talk.

"My son..."

That wasn't welcome, not anymore.

"Am I?" Asked the boy. He was trembling, but not from the breeze. "Your son?"

For once, Calypso didn't try to insert herself in the conversation, even the chatty goddess was speechless.

"I always wondered, why we don't look alike at all? I was adopted, I knew, but I thought I was your nephew, even a cousin".

"Son..."

Odysseus was interrupted

"How can you call me that? My family, my whole country... it's gone, and it's your fault".

The man took a short breath.

"I'm not going to ask for forgiveness..."

"Good", Astyanax was done, "because there's no forgiving you. Tell me everything that happened, tell me about what went down that night".

He stared at the older man while he shook his head.

"Astyanax, save yourself that pain, the endless pain of the war shouldn't be a child's warden".

"But it is!" Bursted out the kid. "You decided to spare me on a whim!"

"That's not what happened."

"Then what?" A desperate question. "Am I a warprize?"

"Don't call yourself that." It was soft spoken, like a prayer.

Astyanax was no god.

"What am I supposed to think?"

Trying to descalate the situation, Calypso spoke.

"Maybe what your father is trying to say..."

Any other day, the goddess' inside was welcome, as she was Astyanax's friend. Today he was having none of it.

"SHUT UP NOBODY ASKED YOU-"

"HEY", Odysseus stopped him, "don't yell at her. You want to know what happened? Put your emotions aside, and sit with me by the fire".

They did so, and Odysseus told him. About the Trojan war, about ten years of slow killing, about the ressiliance of Troy. He told him about Achilles and Patroclus, about Paris and Helen.

He told the story of the wooden horse.

About longing to go home.

Diomedes led the charge. Agamemnon flanked the guards. Menelaus let the men through the gates. They took the whole city at large. Teucer will shot every ambush attack. And Little Ajax stayed back. Nestor secured Helen and protected her. Neo, avenged his father, killing the brothers of Hector.

About a mission, to kill someone's son, someone who wouldn't run, someone who could only be dealt with right there and then. About a baby in a cradle. About Zeus' prophecy. About him.

About someone who was just a man.

Troy fell.

The Ithacan fleet sailed, hoping to reach home.

They never did.

When he was done remembering the past, he looked at the boy, who was sitting at the other side of the flame, hands covering his face.

It took a long time for Astyanax to even look at him, let alone spoke up, but he finally did it.

"I don't know what to say." He confessed, bathed in the fire's light. "I hate you, I do, I'm so full of rage right now...but I love you, and I hate you so much. You should have killed me when you had the chance, why didn't you?"

The answer came easyly to Odysseus's lips.

"Mercy". He dared to say, the blasphemy of it haunting them, with only the fire and the waves as witnesses. "You haven't done anything, you were a child who had only known love. What was the point?"

"Zeus told you to do it. One should not defy the gods".

A dark laugh came from Odysseus, startling the kid

"That's all we have ever done since we met." Odysseus spoke the truth, and Astyanax hated him for it. "A god ordered a child's death. Where's my free will? Your right to a peaceful life? They're supposed to protect us...and look where we are now because of them."

Astyanax looked at him, right in the eyes, before saying his part.

"I hate you."

Odysseus sighed, tired, defeated.

"I know." Resigned.

"I have one more question."

Just one question? Odysseus would have give him anything he asked for. A question he could do.

"Go ahead."

Like a dreadful night, so many years ago, he thought he was ready. He wasn't ready.

"Do you even love me?"

Tears came to his eyes when the boy asked that question. How many times can a heart break until there's nothing left?

"How couldn't I? To love my children it's the easiest thing I've ever done."

Whatever was the veredict, he would take it, he owed Astyanax that much.

And then Astyanax got up. There was no emotions in his voice when he talked

"You are without doubt, a cruel man, Odysseus of Ithaca."

He walked away, letting a crying man behind.

[lydiadeetzgf]

The Great Chess Tournament pt. 1

Benjicot Blackwood x fem!oc

summary: The princess's adopted daughter has to choose a betrothed, and her best way of doing that is through a chess tournament.

word count: 1.05k

warning: none

Author’s note: please let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments! I’m always open to feedback!

The same year Prince Jacearys was born Princess Rheanrya adopted a daughter from an orphanage to show go will towards the common folk. They did not know anything about this girl, whether she was noble or not, what house she was from or what region. All they knew was that her name was Anastasia.

When Anastasia turned six and ten, the princess decided it was time for her to find a betrothal. Both her brothers were already set to be betrothed. The princess sent out ravens to all the houses that were willing to propose to an orphan. Not many were, but they wished to make alliances with the Princess.

Anastasia was summoned to her parent’s chambers in dragonstone to discussed what they had done. The guard outside the door opened it for her announcing her arrival.

"Anastasia." Rheanrya smiled at the girl gesturing her to come close to her and Daemon. The princess and her husband were sitting on chairs by the fireplace.

"You wished to see me?" Anastasia asked coming closer.

"We have some news." Rheanrya said. Anastasia looked at the pair confusedly, wondering what the news was.

"We have decided that is it time for you to be betrothed." daemon cut in.

"What? why?" Anastasia asked to upset by the news, she found it unfair that she had to married and she knew that no lord would want an orphan.

"It is only fair as your brothers both have betrothals." Rheanrya try to calm the girl.

"No lord is going to want to marry me." Anastasia frowned.

"And do you think that sweet girl?"

"Because I'm an orphan." Anastasia eyes started to tear up at the thought, "What lord would love an orphan?"

"Sweet girl, many lords have agreed to meet you."

"Really?" She looked surprised. "Well, if I am going to meet with these potential suitors, will it be my choice?"

"Yes, sweet girl. I wish to give you the same opportunity that my father, the King gave me." Rheanrya nodded.

"Then I wish to do it differently."

"How do you mean?" Daemon leaned forward in his seat, interested in what she had to say.

"I wish to challenge them in a chess game." The girl smirked. Her parents looked at each other confused by what she meant.

"Why so?" Daemon asked again.

"You can learn a lot about someone in chess." Anastasia explained, "And I am one of the best chess players in the realm Jace said."

A few days had passed, and the princess had called all the lords and their sons who had accepted to the marriage tour to come to Dragonstone to meet Anastasia. The morning of the arrival of the houses Anastasia was in the library with her brothers and sisters playing cards.

"So what are you going to make them do, sister?" Jace asked looking up from his hand at Anastasia.

"Well, mother and father are allowing me to do a chess tournament." Anastasia replied making Luce laugh.

"Really? Why would you do that?" Luke asked.

"I want to see if they can beat me."

"Like that can happen." Baela smirked. "That's nearly impossible."

"That's the idea."

The door to the library opened and the children turned when a guard told them the houses had arrive and they were needed in the great hall. A fest was begin held as it was the first day of the marriage tour, the family was seated at the end of the great hall and the noble and minor house were seated all the tables around the hall.

Jace, begin the kind but protective brother made in a point to tell Anastasia about who everyone was and if they would be good matches for her. “That’s Oscar Tully, heir to Riverrun.” Jace pointed at a young boy Anastasia’s age seated with his grandshire.

Luce decided to also give his two-sense into who would be suitable for his sister, “you would do well in the Riverlands, sister. The air is cooler, and the grass is greener. Which you like.”

“That is true.” Anastasia nodded in agreement. The truth is she hadn’t really thought much about where she would like to end up in the future as she didn’t think much about it. So she was willing to hear any advice that would be given.

“Speaking of the Riverlands. That’s Aeron Bracken.” Jace continued pointing at a boy in yellow on another table. “A knight, so he would be able to protect you.”

“Yes, but his he a good knight?” Anastasia questioned give her brother a look.

“That is the question.” Luce added.

“And over there we have the Lannisters.” Jace nodded to a sea of red and gold.

“I’d rather not.” Anastasia made a face.

“Good idea, Ana.” Luce sniggered sipping at his drink.

“What about him?” Ana asked nodding to a boy in black and red, who’s house was in the far corner of the hall.

“That’s Benjicot of House Blackwood. Heir of Raventree Hall.” Jace replied. Him and Luce looked at each other in worry, Ana gave the two a questioning look.

“Why are you looking at each other like that? What’s wrong with him?”

“They called him ‘Bloody Ben’ because of his ruthlessness on the battlefield.” Jace replied.

“I don’t think you’ll like him, Ana.” Luce continued, “we don’t want you with someone so violent. Trust us.”

Before Ana could ask more, the princess stood up next to her to make an announcement. “Thank you all for coming. As you know we are here for the marriage tour of my daughter, Lady Anastasia. However there will be a twisted.” This caused all the Houses to look around confused and mumble questions to one another. “Anastasia has requested that each of your sons are to join her in a chess match.”

The lords and their sons looked horrified at this statement. Why on earth would the Lady want to challenge them to a chess match? More importantly why is a woman playing chess?

Anastasia smiled at the idea of playing her favourite pastime. She looked around to see all the horrified face, however she notice that this Benjicot Blackwood did not look so horrified but intrigued by this.

“The chess matches shall start on the morrow.” Rheanyra announced.

Let the games begin…

[wantonlywindswept]

adopted baby Guard Din idea that I am never going to write

because it would involve logistics and quiet moments and idle life which I am very down for reading but cannot for the LIFE of me actually sit down and write

So the war ends, Palps is outed as a Sith and an asshole and dies somehow, and the Senate eventually decides that the clones do count as people and thus are allowed to leave the GAR if they want. Give the bureaucrats another few years and they might even give out backpay and citizenship, so long as you stay in the service--wait what do you mean the entire Guard is resigning. What do you mean they've already left orbit?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NOW MILLIONS OF FILES ON THE HOLONET ABOUT THE SENATE'S SHADY DEALINGS???

Guard, collectively: lol cya suckers

Fox is of course one of the last ones out, and since this was all planned on the down low, everyone's been split into groups so they can take commercial flights, since they're not about to be accused of stealing ships. (They also leave their weapons and their armor behind, in a giant macabre pile in the middle of Corrie HQ. Even their helmets, their faces, they discard: it's time for a rebirth.)

He and Thorn and a few other Corries have a stopover on some tiny station, waiting a week for a delayed transport to arrive, and in the meantime they're approached by some locals who just fled the planet below. Separatist remnants attacked their homes, forcing them to leave everything and everyone behind; can the big strong clones do anything about it?

The Big Strong Clones: Oh shit we finally get to kick some Seppie ass? Sign us the FUCK up.

The eager group does not include Fox, who could not care less about the Separatists and would very much like to finally catch up on his sleep. Unfortunately that means that the group that goes down to the planet is Unsupervised.

(Thorn does not count as supervision. Thorn, bereft of Senate oversight, has finally allowed his Inner Chaos Gremlin to fully emerge. Thorn needs more supervision than the shinies.)

Thorn, three days later, waking Fox from half-hearted sleep by dropping an entire natborn child on him: Hey boss, look what we found! None of the refugees claimed him, so we called dibs. Can we keep him? Fox, staring at the child: ...

Din, staring back: ...

Fox: ...no..?

Din: *sad but understanding big brown eyes*

Fox: Nevermind this is my child now.

Din has gone from two parents to one parent and hundreds of overprotective brothers.

Eventually his group makes it to their destination, Din in tow. I am uncertain of what the destination is but it is a planet that is as far away from Coruscant that the Corries could find. I am tempted for Tatooine not because I like Tatooine (I share Anakin's loathing of sand and deserts) but because Luke's description of Tatooine in ANH was 'if there's a bright center to the universe, this is the planet the furthest from'. 

Corries, hearing that: Fuck it sounds perfect. 

Anyway they make it to Tatooine, there is probably purchasing of some shitty land/buildings that nobody wants out in the wastes bc crime, scum, villainy, etc, but it's not like they have problems taking care of anything that tries to mess with them. 

Where did they get the funds?

Shh don't ask about it.

Stone takes up moisture farming. Thire takes up farming-farming. Thorn shoots gleefully at anything that shows up unannounced within a ten-mile radius. Literally everybody dotes on Din. There are a surprising amount of peaceful days.

Eventually some dumb shiny goes: Hey don't kids need friends? Shouldn't we set up some playdates for him or something?

The shiny is not called dumb for asking the question, but they are called dumb for thinking that the question would only ever be taken rhetorically. Fox disappears for two weeks and then comes back with a black eye and a yowling hissing Boba tucked under one arm, looking stupidly pleased with himself.

(Boba is also pleased to be back with people he knows will keep him safe. Boba will not admit to this under threat of death or dismemberment. Boba is a SERIOUS SCARY ADULT BOUNTY HUNTER.)

Boba also decides he will be Mortal Enemies with Din, which after about ten minutes of meeting him morphs into If Anyone Hurts Din I Will Kill Everyone In This Room And Then Myself because all clones be the same, really.

Din has gained another brother/bestie. (Or potential future boyfriend, whichever floats your boat.)

Somehow they still end up overthrowing the Hutts.

Officially the GAR knew and knows nothing about the Guard leaving Coruscant as soon as the metaphorical paint was dry on their sentient status.

Unofficially Fox's batch harangues him every single day for photos of his new kid(s). They eventually show up unannounced, demanding time with their nephew. (They are shot at by Thorn.)

Din gains five new uncles.

The batch proudly show pics and holos to their battalions. Din gains millions of new uncles.

Fox finally gets a full night's sleep.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Steve’s POV

" . . . I'm going to rip out your parents' decrepit black hearts and show it to them still beating, letting them watch as I slowly crush them both in my hands. . . "

"Jesus, Robin," Steve scoffed.

It was a couple of days later, and they were both in the apartment above the salon. Steve had wanted to get a jumpstart on cleaning the place up and move out of his parents' house as soon as possible. Robin had protested at first because he was still wounded, but Steve wore her down by telling her of his grandfather's journals, which she was currently pouring through. If Nancy were here, she wouldn't give in so easily. Luckily, she was on lockdown at her house. Her mother hadn't been too pleased to find out that both her children had been in the fire and that Nancy had camped out at the hospital without telling her. Meanwhile, Eddie was at home getting his sister settled into her new life.

"This doesn't bother you?" Robin asked.

"Of course, it bothers me," Steve replied.

"Right, stupid question," she said. "How can you be so casual about all of it?"

"I don't know. I guess it's easier to accept the fact that I'm just not really going to have parents that stick around. They either die, or they just leave. It happens," Steve shrugged.

Robin let out a strangled noise, jumped up, and hugged him tightly.

"I'll be your dad!" Robin exclaimed.

"Robin!"

"Dad."

"Robin!"

"Dad!"

"I am not calling you that! You're younger than me!" Steve exclaimed.

Suddenly, there was a loud thunk that came from outside the apartment. Robin jumped away from Steve, her eyes wide.

"What the hell was that?" Robin asked.

"I don't know, stay behind me," Steve said and grabbed a lamp off the table.

They burst out of the apartment and heard the sound of scurrying feet as whoever it was flew out the curtains. Steve and Robin followed them until they heard the voices. They stopped at the curtain when they heard Dustin and Lucas.

"I'm going to my mom, and I'm going to make Steve my brother!" Dustin hissed at Lucas.

"No, I'm going to make Steve my brother!" Lucas exclaimed.

There was a long pause, so long that Steve thought they had left.

"Should we both just talk to each of our parents and make him brother to both of us?" Dustin asked.

"Yeah, that sounds fair," Lucas said.

They heard them walk out the door, and they peered through the curtain before entering the salon.

"What the hell was that about?" Steve asked.

"I think they want to adopt you, Steve," Robin said with a soft smile.

"Either that or kidnap me," Steve said.

"Probably a bit of both," Robin grinned.

They walked back into the apartment, and Steve set the lamp back onto the table. Robin plopped back on the floor again to continue reading the journals. It didn't take her long to finish.

"Ugh!" Robin exclaimed, clutching the journals to her chest.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Your grandparents! Their story is so beautifully poetic and heartbreaking. . .to have your own kid. . . and Steven! Oh my God! Steven! The love of your grandparents' lives but two different kinds of love. . . And you were named after him!" Robin exclaimed. "I never read anything so beautiful. Your grandfather was a wonderful writer."

"Are you going to keep losing it over my grandfather's journals, or are you actually going to help me clean like you promised?" Steve asked.

"Keep losing it," Robin sighed, and Steve glared at her. "Fine. Let's get to work. Meanwhile, we get to talk about your love life. Have you guys set a date yet?"

"Haven't really had time to talk about that," Steve said. "So, no."

"Okay. Well, once you guys get all settled, you guys need to come together and use your senses to find others like us. . .particularly girls for me. Ooh! Eddie can use his powers!" Robin exclaimed.

"One, that wouldn't be an appropriate use of his powers, and second, that would be an invasion of other people's privacy," Steve said. "Also, that's not how Eddie's powers work."

"Damn, you're right, now what?" Robin asked.

"Well, you could get to know people," Steve said.

"That sounds. . .exhausting," Robin sighed. "But I think it's my only option."

They had gotten pretty busy cleaning the place, dancing and singing to the sound of the radio as they did so. They didn't stop until they heard people coming in from downstairs. Steve turned off the radio and walked downstairs with Robin. He pulled back the curtains to find Dustin with his mom and the Sinclairs.

"Oh, Steve, look at you," Claudia cooed and hugged him carely.

"Like I told you the other day, I'm fine, Claudia," Steve said.

"We'll be the judge of that," Sue said.

"Man, it's been a minute since I've been in here," Charles grinned. "You think of opening it in honor of your grandfather?"

"Thinking about it," Steve said with a nod.

"Well, you're a lot like Otis, so I firmly believe that you're going to be a natural just like him," Sue said.

"Oh, you should have seen how Dusty had his hair for the Snow Ball. It was all, thanks to Steve, that it turned out so cute," Claudia said.

"This is actually pretty cool," Erica said, looking up at the artwork on the wall.

"We actually came to see if you needed any help," Sue said.

"You're Robin, yes?" Claudia asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Robin saluted.

"You wouldn't mind, would you, if you brought the kids upstairs while we talked to Steve?" Claudia asked.

"Of course!" Robin exclaimed. "Alright, kiddos, who wants to mock Steve’s old baby pictures?"

The kids followed Robin up the stairs, leaving Steve alone downstairs with the adults.

"Am I in trouble?" Steve asked.

"No, son, this is a good thing," Charles sighed.

"What's this about then?" He asked.

"Your grandfather was a good man, but, of course, you know that your father isn't," Sue scowled.

"Otis couldn't hide how hurt he was when his son turned against him, and despite the fact that John tried to hide it, he clearly hated his father. No one could understand why," Charles said.

"It wasn't anything that Grandpa did. Dad just couldn't stand who Grandpa really was, even though it did nothing to harm anyone. It was just who he was as a person," Steve said softly. "Dad can't stand anyone who's different."

"That is obvious," Sue sighed.

"We heard you were moving out of the house, and we just want you to know that you're our family just as much as our kids," Claudia said.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're our baby as much as Erica and Lucas," Sue said.

"We also wanted you to know that you do have parents who love you," Claudia said.

"You've done so much for your brothers and sister. Erica won't stop going on about how they wouldn't have made it out of that fire if it hadn't been for you," Sue said.

"And you stood up to Hargrove when he attacked Lucas," Charles said.

"You protected all the kids," Claudia said. "You are a good man, Steve. We're so proud of you. We love you."

"I-I love you too," Steve said in shock.

He didn't expect this to happen today, and he was a little overwhelmed by it all. He hadn't received this much affection from a parent since his grandfather had been alive, and it looked like it was going to be something he was going to have to get used to. Claudia smiled and pulled him into a hug, which caused the dam to break. Steve burst into tears. Claudia hugged him tightly, and he felt Sue run her fingers through his hair. Once he stopped crying, he pulled away from both of them allowing Charles to pull him into a hug as well.

"You have a home with all of us, son," Charles said.

"So, none of this Sue, Charles, and Claudia crap. We're mom and dad now," Sue said sternly.

"Okay. . .mom," Steve said.

It left a weird feeling stomach, and Steve knew it would take time to get used to having parents who actually gave a damn.

"Is he our brother now?!" Dustin's voice carried from down the stairs.

"Sorry! I tried to stop them, but they're slippery!" Robin exclaimed.

"Yeah! He's your brother now! Come on down!" Charles said.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and the boys burst through the curtains. Dustin and Lucas threw themselves so hard into Steve’s arms. They nearly knocked him down.

"Careful! He's still healing," Claudia said.

Steve laughed and pushed them off playfully. Erica rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Fine! I guess I'll give you one too," Erica said. "You better not tell anyone."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him a lot more carefully than the boys did. For the complaint that she made, Erica held on a lot longer than Steve thought she would.

"Alright," Sue said. "Let's get started."

"Wait, you were serious about us helping Steve clean up?" Lucas asked.

"You have a problem with helping your brother?" Sue asked, and Lucas quickly shook his head.

"I am allergic to dust," Dustin said. "Hence my name. It's ironic. I can't breathe dust in."

"You are not," Claudia giggled and hit his shoulder.

"Well, I had to try," Dustin said.

Steve laughed, a happy grin on his face as his family helped him clean up his new home and future place together. Despite what happened, things were starting to fall into place for Steve. He had a wonderful boyfriend and a girlfriend, a new best friend, and now, he had wonderful parents who seemed to love him as much as they loved their own flesh and blood children. This was what having a family was supposed to be like: delightfully chaotic. And yet, there was still a part of him that was waiting for the other shoe to drop. . .

Chapter Twelve

[ghostwise]

Matacuervos, ch. 4 - La joya Hamal and Zevran find a lead in the brothels of Rialto, but will they manage to investigate it in time? Read update on AO3 - Read from the beginning on AO3

“Philanthropists,” the woman said with a flourish, and she snapped her fan shut in distaste.

It was hot in the basement of the brothel, La espina dorsal , and the thick and heavy scent of bodies permeated the room. The heat was making her make-up drip off, which was quite a sight to see amidst a backdrop of entwined lovers.

“Philanderers, more like,” she continued. “They claim it’s all worth it if the babes end up cared for. That a Chantry cloister will protect them better than here.”

“You doubt it?” Zevran asked.

She scoffed.

“Not without reason,” she said. “But… if they are so charitable why not come for the orphans sooner? Why wait years between visits? Why not take every child in need, not just the healthy ones?” Bitterness laced her voice, sending a shiver down Zevran’s spine. “All I know is, the day my friends were taken was the day I decided I was done with the Maker. Perhaps you can ask the Chantry why they don’t help all of us; why a bum leg makes a six year old girl unfit to serve Andraste, but fit enough to stay in this sty.”

Zevran glanced at Hamal, sharing the same grim thought. Rocio’s mangled leg would have been a death sentence for a young Crow recruit. And yet, leaving her behind was no mercy.

Zevran shifted closer, asking his next question with great care.

“It seems your friends were taken around the time frame we are investigating. Do you recall anything else about the day they left?”

A lengthy pause followed. Her eyes briefly seemed to focus elsewhere, before she answered. “No. I’m sorry. They didn’t leave any information. Just said I wouldn’t be a good fit where they were going.”

“Thank you for your time,” Zevran said when they had finished talking. “And your lovely company.”

“Didn’t even do nothing!” Rocio chuckled, taking the money. “But alright. See you ‘round.”

Stepping out of the brothel, Zevran couldn’t help but feel as stifled as he had indoors.

The sun bore down like a dagger. They’d spent all day searching for leads, visiting brothels and orphanages across the city with the same story: that they were tracking down a long-lost relative.

It was not entirely a lie. Zevran felt a genuine kinship with the workers of Rialto’s brothels; they had raised him, after all, and just like anyone else in the city, they sought only to make a living, to raise enough coin to build a life. But they had few protections when things went wrong. A single misfortune—a death, an illness, or an arrest—was all it took. When children were involved, it spelled grim consequences.

They had yet to find any tangible evidence, but many of the brothels had reported curiously similar anecdotes: a generous donor, a charitable organization, or an anonymous do-gooder who arrived to adopt the forgotten children. The offer would come with uncanny timing, often just when it was needed most. And who could argue against one less mouth to feed?

No records, no documentation of where they’d go. It was easy for the city to look the other way, for these were orphans or bastards or both. And so they were taken, no questions asked.

It made Zevran’s blood boil.

He sulked in a bad mood the entire way back to the cheap sawdust inn they’d paid double what the humans paid to lodge at. He persisted in a sour mood through dinner, and even after they went to bed—only to wake Hamal in the small hours of the morning, too angry to sleep.

“I do not think it was the Chantry that came for those children ten years ago,” Zevran hissed. “Or perhaps I don’t want to believe it… and yet, Sister Tristeza spoke of this allegiance between the Crows and the Chantry. How deeply does it run? I am a devout man—even I’ve heard rumours that one bore the other long ago.”

“Which one?” Hamal asked in a sleep-tinged voice, but Zevran continued in frustration.

“Of course a girl with a mangled leg would be found unfit for the Crows. She would have died during training. But would knowing the true fate of her friends change anything? She was abandoned. She needed saving.” Here he paused, for his anger threatened to spill over.

Rocio’s fate felt intertwined with his, separated only by happenstance. Her mangled leg had saved her, but not from everything.

“Could she still need saving?” Hamal asked, and Zevran realized, by the cadence of his words, that he was half-asleep. “Could we?”

The question resonated enough to slow Zevran’s racing thoughts. He couldn’t tell whether Hamal meant could we need saving, also? or could we save her?

It felt self-aggrandizing to think they could save anyone, damned as they already were.

“I don’t fucking know,” he said at last, all too aware of his bitterness leeching out.

Hamal sighed and regarded Zevran for a long moment.

“Someone will put a stop to it,” he said finally. “The people will not allow it to continue once they realize what is happening. They will wonder why they never hear word from the adopted, and they will be wary when the next Crow recruiter comes.”

“With any luck,” Zevran said fiercely, “We’ll find him ourselves first. And put daggers in him until he tells us all we need to know.”

“Exactly.” Hamal fell back onto his pillow, like a log. “Come back to bed, vhenan .”

Zevran shook his head. Sleeplessness had claimed him already—yet he grudgingly climbed under the thin sheets with Hamal.

“I will, but I won’t sleep.”

“Keep watch then,” Hamal said, in a voice drowsy enough to curb any argument. He latched onto Zevran’s arm and then he was out like a light—leaving Zevran in awe of how quickly his husband could sleep, even in these circumstances.

.

Dawn broke over the city and fatigue had tempered Zevran’s anger for the time being. He’d managed to sleep for an hour or two before they began the day’s investigations. Fortunately he was used to running on fumes.

“How many brothels are there in Rialto?”

It was a particularly sunny morning. Hamal had pushed all of his curls into a messy bun, and shoved the whole mess beneath a wide-brimmed sombrero , but Zevran rather suspected he needed more sun protection than that. For now he led him through shaded alleyways, avoiding the crowded main streets and the direct sunlight.

“It’s a very large port city,” he responded.

“So?”

“Lots.” Zevran smiled at him. “About a dozen at least. Ah, if only we were here under better circumstances! A brothel is normally a place of good cheer and relaxation.”

“We will just have to come back when we are not tracking down slavers,” Hamal said with a smile.

“Now there’s an idea,” Zevran said, contemplating it. His thoughts briefly recalled The Pearl in Denerim. “In any case,” he continued, “one of these places is bound to have a lead. Someone, somewhere, knows something. We just need to find the right person to talk to.”

“Perhaps,” Hamal said. “We may have already found her.”

He gestured with a short motion of his head to the cobblestone road behind them. Zevran followed his gaze.

It took him a moment to recognize her without the heavy layers of make-up, and she walked in the company of another woman, but her dark curls were the same as when they’d seen her yesterday, and she carried the same light-weight aluminum cane with her. It caught the light and shone like a mirror as she swung it forward with every step.

She greeted them with the false names they had taken to using in the city. “Amrit! Hirael! My, you two are hard to track down!”

“How did you manage?” Zevran asked.

“Whores talk, you know,” Rocio laughed. “I mentioned your visit to my friend here, and I quickly learned you’d been visiting nearly every brothel this side of town. I said, Maker, he must have an appetite!”

The woman beside her offered her hand. “Elena,” she said, giving Zevran and Hamal’s a hearty shake. “I work at La joya. ”

“A pleasure,” Zevran said.

“It will be,” Rocio said. “Tell them!”

Elena waved her hand excitedly, beckoning Zevran closer, and when he was near enough, she whispered: “A man came to La joya a few days ago,” she said. “He was from some charity in Salle. A trade school for impoverished children. He said his work took him around the country—to brothels, orphanages, hospitals, you know. Places where children often wound up alone. They’d teach them to read and write, and hire them out to factories who would provide for them while they worked. Any child! The elves, the humans, even if they were mage-blooded. Sounds fishy, hm?”

Zevran took a deep breath. This was it; exactly what they’d been looking for.

“Can we find somewhere to talk?” he asked. “You can tell us what you know, and we will tell you a little more about why we are here.”

.

They came to a brick building, covered in flowers that clung to the walls in enticing greenery. La joya lived up to its name. The windows glimmered and the scent of perfume was strong, even outside. Inside, the atmosphere likened more to a spa or a fine bathhouse. This did not escape Zevran, who raised a brow, looking at Hamal.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been here,” he said.

“Can’t say I’ve ever worked here,” Rocio sighed. She rubbed her hip with a grimace as they walked on.

They were greeted by several guests as they went. More than once, Elena kissed a patron on the cheek, shook hands, or embraced them with a cheerful, “Lovely to see you! But it’s my day off, darling. Do come again tomorrow.”

Down a hallway and to the left, they passed a well-stocked kitchen, then exited again to a central courtyard where potted flowers were arranged in clusters along the path. It was quiet, with the bustle of the streets lowered to a dim hum. From there they crossed the way to another building, which rose above the treeline.

“Where are we going?” Hamal asked.

“To speak to the boss,” Elena said. “The apartments are this way.”

“Apartments? Your employer lives where the workers live?” Zevran asked.

It was far from what Zevran was expecting. The building they arrived at was a tenement for the workers—aged, with flaking plaster, small and humble rooms, yet clean and maintained. When Elena knocked on the door, it was like they were visiting anyone on the street. The middle-aged woman who answered looked like any woman at the market.

“Ah, it is you!” she said, and waved everyone inside. “Come on in. I take it you are you the ones tracking down your family?”

Rocio made a beeline to a wood and wicker chair near the woodstove. She sat and hung her cane on a hook on the wall, then procured a small bag of tobacco from a drawer.

“Mind if I smoke?” she asked.

Elena walked into what could barely be termed a living room. She dropped into the lap of a tall light-haired man, who kissed her, gripping her tightly by the shoulders.

“Take that as a yes,” Rocio hummed.

There were a lot of people in the apartment, gathered together with the ease of friends who’d known one another for years. For a moment, Zevran wondered if he’d misunderstood the purpose of the visit, but they were guests, and so, he practiced patience for the time being.

“Thank you for having us,” Zevran said, shifting his bag off his shoulder. “Who is the owner of La joya?”

Rocio stifled a laugh. She grinned, as if she was revealing a grand secret with her answer.

“Everyone!”

It took a bit of explaining.

There were nine people crammed into that tiny apartment, six of them workers at La joya . Besides Elena, there were Damian and Cora—prostitutes. Lara, who had answered the door, managed the washrooms. Jania, an elven bodyguard on her day off. Terrance, a stripper—distinguished from Damian and Cora for his strict no-touch policy, though he assured them, he had no need of touch to leave his audience satisfied.

“I don’t quite understand,” Hamal said in whispered to Zevran in Common. “They explained it too quickly.”

“It is something like what the workers of The Pearl did,” Zevran explained. “But they went a step further—they pooled their money to buy the entire business.”

“We are the Rialto Society of Pleasures,” Elena said with a flourish. “Cooperatives like this exist across the country—but we are the first for workers of brothels and pleasure houses. We keep the money we make, and work together to run things.”

“It works,” Rocio drawled amidst puffs of smoke, “more or less. There is quite a bit of turnover—”

“Because no one is bound to stay,” Lara said. “That is important. No contracts. Just rent, and board, for those who opt to live in the tenement, that sort of thing.”

Zevran took in the information as he did anything else in life; recognizing its immediate impact on him (none) and its objective merit (excellent). He sidled up to the counter in the small kitchen and looked at all the proud and smiling faces around him.

If his mother had wound up in a brothel like this—

But she hadn’t. No use dwelling on it.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said. “Were I not otherwise occupied with my husband I might even consider applying!”

“Really?” Rocio giggled. “Get in line. My application’s been in for months.”

They had good reason to be proud. Not every prostitute was so fortunate. And yet, it had taken years, a lot of work, and a dash of luck to make it happen.

But they had not come here to talk about business; Zevran quickly refocused.

“Now that we understand how things are run here, tell us about this visitor you received. Who exactly spoke to this man?”

“Jania and Damian,” Lara said.

“And so when the stranger came and offered to adopt any orphaned children…”

“We told him we had no unwanted children,” Damian explained. “Some of the workers choose to raise families, yes. And occasionally we take in children when their parents cannot care for them. But it’s never a hardship. So he left empty-handed. That was that.”

“But that was not all,” Hamal observed after a moment, in his careful Antivan. “Or why talk to us?”

A lull passed over the small group. Rocio pulled a deep drag from her cigarette.

“We robbed him,” Jania said.

“Ha!” Hamal’s face lit up; his Antivan was still middling, but he understood her easily.

Damian produced a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. He passed it to Cora who passed it to Lara, who handed it to Zevran, who unfolded it.

“These fools are always writing shit down and it is their own undoing,” Hamal observed in Common, as he read over Zevran’s shoulder.

The paper contained a handwritten list of brothels in the city. The majority of them were struck out, along with a tally system beside some of the names. Only a few on the list remained unchecked. El milagro was one of the brothels which had not yet been struck through.

“I didn’t like him,” Damian said. “He gave me a bad feeling. But I didn’t think anything of it until Rocio stopped by, and mentioned your search for information. Could this have anything to do with it?”

Zevran creased the paper slightly, brow furrowed. “These tallies…”

“Whores he slept with, we assumed,” Rocio said.

“No,” Zevran said softly. “Children they’ve taken. I think I must tell you,” he said, looking up at the Rialto Society of Pleasures, “The truth. But it is horrible. And we have little time to act.”

.

Rocio had put out her cigarette. She sat hunched at the table, lost in her thoughts, and she hadn’t spoken since Zevran explained his suspicions and his lived proof. Sometimes the truth was cruel. Even when it was necessary.

The rest of them considered what could be done.

“We should bring the list to the city guard,” Jania suggested.

“What will they do, exactly? A piece of paper is hardly proof of anything. Even if they believed us, something tells me they wouldn’t exactly jump to action,” Elena said.

“Unfortunately, you are correct,” Zevran said. “What I have shared with you is already common knowledge in some circles; I am quite certain the owner of the brothel I grew up in knew exactly where he was sending us off to. But… you deserve to know for yourselves, what has been happening all these years.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“We are going to find them,” Hamal said slowly. “And kill them.”

“His Antivan is not very good,” Zevran added in the silence that followed. “He means, we will tie them up. As in, we will capture them.”

Hamal glanced at him, annoyed.

Zevran held up the note. “You have helped us tremendously with this information alone,” he said. “Thank you. I pray you never have to deal with these slavers again. If we have any success, you won’t.”

“That’s all?” Rocio asked, looking up at him over an ashtray.

“Please! Whatever you are going to do, we want to be a part of it,” Elena insisted. “These are our children targeted.”

Zevran frowned. He strongly felt that it was not wise to get more people involved; too many hands in too delicate of a situation. He had intended to warn rather than invite, to protect rather than endanger, but Hamal set a hand on his shoulder, switching to whispered Common.

“Might be good to have eyes out, Zev. There are a lot of names on this list and we cannot surveil all of them. Let’s do it this way,” he said, gesturing to the paper. “Send them here, and here… At the very least they can carry a warning. Just in case.”

Zevran nodded thoughtfully.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, how much more daunting this journey would be like without Hamal’s counsel and support.

“Very well. Then help us in this,” he said, turning back to the group, “We cannot visit every site on this list tonight. Go to these locations.” He dabbed a gloved finger into the ashtray, and used it to indicate several names, before handing the list back to Elena. “But be discreet; simply warn them that a suspicious person might come, bearing lies. And I beg you— do not mention us, by description or name. You could endanger yourselves more than you realize.”

“Got it,” Elena said, scanning the paper already. “Let’s split up.”

“What do we do if we find the bastard?” Damian asked.

Zevran hesitated. “Stall. Wait for us to arrive.”

“But-”

“We will be there,” Zevran said quickly. “Now, we have a few hours to act; these visits, to my knowledge, happen under cover of night. We must prepare.”

.

Zevran clasped Hamal’s arm and led him away from the building at a frantic pace. That small apartment had begun to feel claustrophobic. He wanted it far behind, and besides, he knew where they were needed next.

“I’m sweating,” Hamal said, walking along hurriedly. “That building was hot. Zevran. What-”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked simply, voice clipped in urgency. Signs and windows rushed past as they half-jogged through the streets.

“Yes! The next place they will try to buy recruits from—that woman at El milagro ,” Hamal said. “She was afraid of you because she was expecting someone. Someone she didn’t want you to meet.”

“Exactly,” Zevran hissed. “He is going there soon, I know it. She wanted us gone, because she knew —she knew who I was and she knew why we were there and—”

“He is definitely going to be at El milagro . But Zevran, slow down—”

Hamal dug his heels in. Exercising a bit of his marital privilege, he scooped Zevran up into his arms, steadying him for a moment.

“Breathe, vhenan,” he said firmly. And quickly set him back down, before Zevran had a chance to complain.

Zevran huffed, glancing up at him then glaring away. “If it is the same man…”

“I know.” Hamal plucked the string of his bow, worn around his chest. “I can handle it.”

Zevran shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Listen: point at something for me to shoot. Go on. There’s no one around.”

Zevran frowned at the game. He hesitated to waste time when every second seemed necessary, but truly, he was not thinking clearly. He did as he was told. “That water pail,” he said, feeling mischievous and a little mean.

In an instant it was useless, holed up with an arrow from Hamal’s bow.

“Again,” Hamal said. “A challenge.”

Knowing perfectly well what he was capable of, Zevran spied around for a moment. Then he spoke, with an arm outstretched. “That poster on the wall, the red one. Sixty yards down. By the flowers.”

Hamal took a moment to aim, but he loosed an arrow just as easily. Of course, it hit dead center.

They walked together to retrieve the arrows.

“It will be that simple,” Hamal spoke. “You will not need to be strong, fast, or even brave for this, Zevran. Just point at him. If this is hard for you, just tell me where to shoot.”

“Amor, I appreciate that. But this will be difficult,” Zevran explained, pulling his arrow out of the wall it had embedded itself in, “Because we will need this man alive.”

He handed it to Hamal, with a somber look as the Warden took the arrow.

“We will need to take him and question him. We cannot kill him right away. That complicates things. Increases the risk of things going wrong. Think: Can he signal someone? Will he be alone or will he have backup? Will he be armed? Will he have…”

He stopped, unable to say it.

“Children with him,” Hamal concluded with a sigh. He understood, then. “Oh, ma vhenan. There was nothing you could have done for those boys in the church.”

Zevran nodded, avoiding his gaze. More than anything, he worried about what might happen.

“Let’s go,” he said.

[mossypidder]

If you click the names of the birds below, you will find photos of the actual birds I’m referring to; mostly provided because the second two are morphs

EDIT: So honestly. Contrary to final poll results and my initial lean toward the grosbeak, I think I might just go with the crow. The design’s grown on me and in the last week I’ve collected many bones and observed many local crows and found myself just quietly very drawn to them. Nothing’s set in stone, but. . . It feels more right than the grosbeak- there are still things that draw me to the latter, and I still really love them and might switch in the future, right now I relate more to crows I think.

Rose Breasted/Cutthroat Grosbeak (female)

Similarities (between myself and the bird) - small and chunky - eats mainly seeds, fruits, and nuts - elusive and relatively solitary aside from nesting season - very intricate, unique nest type - monogamous - take care of young for a month after fledging (which is longer than quite a few birds) - dwells mainly in deciduous forests - I honestly think I do look a bit like a grosbeak overall - there is limited information on them (which is obnoxious, but kinda goes with my aesthetic honestly)

Things I Like About Them - very pretty markings, especially on face which makes for fun character design - they were my favorite bird as a child and I would get so excited during the brief period that they would be at our feeder

Differences - females don’t sing as much as males - I am very much a mimic- I echo other people’s words as well as animal noises a lot, mostly without thinking, and grosbeaks do not mimic. The males learn songs from their fathers, but that’s different, and I’m not male anyway.

Black Billed Magpie (cinnamon)

Similarities - eat a lot of fruit and grain - they are skilled mimics - mate for life something I aspire to achieve one day - have only been seen in Michigan ten times in the last hundred years, so it fits the “elusive bird who’s sightings should be documented” narrative - parents allow their young to stay with them as long as needed, sometimes even years - males and females are both very vocal and sing, talk, and chatter quite often - wary of new things and will shy away from bright colors and flashing lights (yes, that includes shiny things) - many widely believed myths spread about them (such as tendencies to thievery, attraction to shiny objects, and hoarding things tho I am guilty of that last one)

Things I Like About Them - Gorgeous wings and tail (though rather plain facial markings which is sad) - they’re just nice, funky little guys and they were one of my favorites when I was younger as well

Differences - not a bird I’d really call chunky lol - they eat meat (mostly bugs) and meat is not my favorite honestly - while some do only stay in groups of two, many others have tribe of up to twelve

Common Crow (cinnamon)

Similarities - will bring people they like random bits of things such leaves, rocks, lost keys, and bones, as gifts - stops for roadkill (though I don’t eat it, I’m just there to steal feathers or check opossum pouches for potential surviving babies) - bones is good, we like bones - also talented at imitating human speech, other animals, and just random noises they find intriguing - mate for life - very family oriented and good at taking care of each other. They’ve even been known to adopt unrelated fledglings - stay in the nest up to forty days after hatching and often remain with a family group for two years, helping their parents look after younger siblings - males and females are very vocal - wants to eat rocks - scavengers - likes fruits, nuts, and seeds - seen as weird or gross by the majority - slow to trust humans, but is very loyal once they do - could be considered chunky - cinnamons tend to have blue or silver eyes

Things I Like About Them - they are just. very good. - wing markings of cinnamons are very interesting, and while I’d like more intricacies to work with for facial markings, they’re still good and simple

Differences - they are very social birds (but most of that social time is spent with their family, which is where most of mine is spent as well, so I’m not sure this is a true difference) - consumes a lot of meat (which, as stated, is not my favorite) - they are very common in Michigan and easy to spot almost anywhere

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Hi!

42 for 🤕:

---

At least, that’s what Eddie keeps thinking. Over and over and over. 

He shouldn’t have left Buck’s side. 

Monday, 5:50am

Buck’s alarm wakes them both up with an angry blare. Eddie hates the damn tone. He also hates that it’s ten minutes earlier than strictly necessary. Eddie’s alarm used to be set for this time when it took way longer to get a much younger Christopher ready for school in the morning. But he’s a teenager now. Way more self-sufficient. Eddie could probably afford ten or, dare he even say, fifteen more minutes of sleep. But Buck is always up and at ‘em, bright and early, ready for another day. 

This morning, though, he’s a little more reserved. 

“Ugh,” he groans as he sits up in bed. “This shift is going to suck.”

Eddie yawns. 

“It won’t,” he argues. “You’re being dramatic.”

“It will,” Buck insists. 

“Remember the three months I worked in the ambulance while Chim was gone?” Eddie challenges. “You can survive a week.”

Buck smirks. Like he knows he’s being silly. 

“Well, that was before we were dating, even. Now we’re married. What if you decide you like the ambulance better? Like getting a break from me?”

This is a ploy. Buck is absolutely not this insecure about their relationship. Not now, five months after their wedding. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I obviously want to work with you every day.”

“So, then you acknowledge… Today is going to suck.”

Eddie sighs.

“I think you should make me breakfast,” Eddie suggests. 

Buck grins. “That I can do.”

7:45am

They arrive at the station early. Buck’s preferred time. Eddie clings to his coffee for comfort, feeling extra sleepy. 

---

42 for ⚡️:

---

Eddie scoffs. “They kicked their teenage daughter out of the house for getting pregnant? Christ, some people don’t deserve children.”

“Not for getting pregnant,” Pepa says. “Though, I think they were close, at that point. It’s a complicated story, I don’t know all of it…  But they had a plan for how they were going to handle her condition. Send her to a cousin’s. Have a family they knew do a private adoption. Never talk about it again.” 

Eddie feels a bit sick. “She didn’t want to do that, I’m guessing?”

“No. No, she’s looking for a different solution.” 

Which is why Pepa is calling Eddie. 

“You want Buck and I to adopt her baby,” Eddie says. 

“I am hoping you’ll at least think about it, Edmundo,” Pepa says, sort of desperate. “She’s looking for an open adoption. Photos. Maybe a visit once a year.”

Eddie feels a little overwhelmed. That’s such a big ask. So different from what they had planned. An open adoption sounds pretty complicated. Way more complicated than explaining to a child someday that their biological mother is actually the aunt they know and love who was so kind to help them have a baby. 

“I… I don’t know, Tia,” Eddie admits. “I have to talk to Buck. I don’t know.”

“Please, at least meet her,” Pepa says. “She’s a good kid. Smart. She’s just had… A difficult road. You might relate to her.” 

Eddie’s mouth twitches. “What does that mean?”

“Her parents were hard on her, too.” 

Eddie sighs. “I’ll talk to Buck.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” 

When they end the call, Eddie has absolutely no idea how to feel. 

[ladyyatexel]

Fic Snips : Patalliro?

HEY, some of you were struck by my adult Patalliro/Figaro notion, and I wish to tell you more!

For there is so much more. @indigobluerose and @a-cup-of-fantasy have seen Much in this vein, including shit I might never admit to!

As for shit I will admit to, I shall take you on a small journey called "Some of those doodles I posted before have context!" And some context has no doodles, but I hope it is interesting anyway.

Behold:

the foundation of this is that neither of them need to hide anything from the other like they do from everyone else, they're both the cleverest people alive, and they have fun. Thus things like this:

“You know, you're good, but sometimes your face still gives you away.” Figaro plays dumb or innocent or something else he definitely isn't.  “What do you mean?” “You look human most of the time, but sometimes-,” he freezes, striking an elegant pose and adopting a dignified but distant expression, “- you look like an ancient piece of marble.” Figaro blinks, slightly too slowly. “Funny, sometimes your face makes you look almost human.” “Oooh??”  It’s a terrible insult, but it's a good one and it is from Figaro, so it's fun.

Patalliro briefly explains the plot of the other thing I posted:

“When I was ten, I decided that I didn't want to stop doing what I was doing and didn't want time to go forward.  So I moved it.” Patalliro draws along the line and after ten hashes he veers off the course of the line and sends his new line straight upward.  “This way, you can stack things up on it, but it never reaches another year.”  “I didn't notice…” Figaro has more memories than most people, but now he thinks it may be significantly more.   “You were new to being human at the time”  “You can do this?”  “Obviously.” “But it isn't like this now.” This isn't a question.  Figaro feels the shape of time, and the motion of existence.  Things are normal, moving as they should.  “I put it back.”  He continues the line back down to join the horizontal progression, joining back at the eleventh tick on the length. “The day I was here and saw you.” “Me?” “For me then, you were still a baby, but you'd grown, even though you shouldn't have been able to.  I thought you might keep going, but you didn't.  I wanted to see what would happen.” “You could have asked me.”  “While Maraich screamed and kicked me out of the house for interrogating his toddler, yes.” “Ah.” “Oh?  Nothing else to say about that? Just ‘ah’?” “It was very useful at the time.”

Part of the story here was - I've just realized how much backstory I was going to give and thus the true magnitude of how much I've MADE. So there's a 'Figaro marries Patalliro on paper so he has benefits and protection he struggles to get as someone's biologically impossible baby' background to this. It started as a joke, as most things do in this world, but now if anything happens to BanMara, he does not fall through any cracks.

Which then becomes a 'haha, I joke about us being Actual Married and you call me on this and we flail around about this because um what is happening, this should have been normal hanging out'

“Let me know when you want to be really married to me.  I could kiss you all the time and we could turn into those obnoxious kinds of people who make out on benches in the park.” “Okay.” Patalliro is silent for a few seconds, as though waiting for a punchline.   “Do you do this kind of thing to ruin all my jokes now? That's not fair.” “Perhaps your jokes should stop being so easily ruined by reality, then.” “What ‘reality’?” He echoes the word mockingly. “You want me to kiss you?” “Sure.” Patalliro frowns. “You can't do that to everything I say.” “I mean it.  You want to kiss me?” “What is going on?” Patalliro picks up several pillows and makes a show of looking under them. “Am I being filmed or something?” Figaro picks up the last pillow with him, helping him hold it dramatically over their heads like it is shielding them from rain.   “Theatrical refusal to answer means ‘yes,’” Figaro tells him. “Says who?” “Says years of experience with you.” “You’re very confident about this.” “I'm putting on a big flashy front so you can't tell I'm making this up as I go, confused and a little terrified.” “That's…very specific.” “I learned from you.” “Oh,” Patalliro pouts, “and that's very mean.” “It is not.  I said you were inspirational.” “You said I’m making things up!” “You do that all the time.  It usually works in your favor.” Kind of a complement, actually. “I suppose that is right.”

Not unlike this!

This piece is in there somewhere:

“I’ve never kissed someone not as part of a joke before.” “I can act disgusted and hit you, if that will make it feel more familiar.” “What a cold and inhuman thing to say!” 

And this part, which might be my favorite of the 'UH I GUESS THIS IS A KISS NOW??' section:

This is well and good until Figaro starts to laugh.  “First you ruin my jokes and now you really have the mood by the throat.” “Sorry,” Figaro says through a badly restrained laugh.  “It is just that my parents-” “Auuuuuugh.  Mood murdered in its bed by beautiful inhuman blonde assailant.  Local monarchy collapsing.”

Unfortunately for them, they get no time to process this or discuss it and they are both left with mush for brains for a while. In a bit I did make art of, Patalliro decides to cope by becoming one with floor:

The marble tile was cold at first.  Now, hours later, it was almost comfortable. Now, with his face pressed against it, it was all he could see. Made things simple. Felt kind of friendly once he settled in. Maybe he would conduct all the country's business from the tiled floor after this.  Pardons and decrees and budgets, all issued from the comfort of the cold hard floor.  He could do this until Figaro came back.   But then he’d have to figure out what to do when Figaro came back. Figaro, who was so fantastic he was even better than cold hard tile. Figaro, who had been Patalliro’s best friend and all around favorite person for years because of and in spite of being more clever than Patalliro himself.  Figaro, who was not totally human.  Figaro, who was why Patalliro had upended a timeline that suited him so nicely. Figaro, who was the son of his oldest friends. Figaro, who he should not have fallen in love with or allowed to kiss him.  Figaro, whose actions and absence had Patalliro face down on the floor contemplating mortality, morality, and marble. … Footsteps on his tile? Were there still other people in the world on this scale?  “Highness?” A pause.  “Oh.” He discovers the Tamanegi seemingly still exist as the onion troupe member’s shoes encroach on Patalliro’s view of the new sovereign land of Marbinella.  “Highness, you've been down there for… several hours. What are you doing?” “Processing,” he manages.  “Oh?” The voice attached several feet above these shoes sounds hopeful. “The financial reports?” “Mortality,” he replies grimly.  “And morality. And mor -” He rolls onto his side to look up at Tananegi 843. “Moron-ality?” “And who is it that is a dying monster idiot, sir?” The words drop on him like anvils, cannon balls, precariously suspended pianos.  “It’s meee,” he groans miserably, turning his face back into his new kingdom of cold hard smooth problemless tile.

Talking with Maraich about Relevant Things!

“Ah, you've got me alone.  No witnesses, right?” “Patalliro, I'm not going to kill you. Sit down with me.” “I can't help but notice you've specified ‘kill’, which leaves ‘maim’ and ‘dismember’ still on the table.” “No killing or maiming.” “Medieval torture?” “No.” “What about modern torture? I hear they do this thing with water drops in -” “NO. Just be serious!” “Whether I am mortally wounded in this conversation is very serious to me, I assure you.” “Shut up and listen!  It’s about Figaro.” “I guessed, hence my concerns about my mortality.”

And that's probably enough to give you an idea of the initial shape of it! There is a lot. There's more of the scenes here, there's accompanying Figaro in which he think everyone can See It On Him. There's chats with BanMara and ridiculous nonsense. Accidental shenanigans and ones done on purpose. There are wings! It goes on forever, why did I make so much, why am I like this.

I hope this is fun for you to look at!

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for building my niece a rocket?

My niece (36F), my nephew (36M), and myself (???M) are adventurers. We've been all over the world together, found all sorts of secrets and temples, and whatnot. In that time, we got really close, and I legally adopted them for reasons I'd rather not share. Point is: they're my wards.

Well, just over a decade ago, she wanted more. She was bored, and we had been just about everywhere here, so she decided she wanted us to try to explore a new horizon: beyond the stars. I was thrilled at the prospect, but her brother thought it was too risky.

It is important to note that she had triplets on the way at this point. They hadn't hatched yet, but the eggs were there (and they were adorable)

With my nephew so adamantly against it, I did the only logical thing to do: I used the resources I had (which is a lot, mind you) and I had the rocket built behind his back. I had intended to give it to her as a gift to celebrate the beginning of her journey into motherhood. And, in my defense, everything was going smoothly!

Of course, she's always been a clever girl. She found the rocket and took off with it before I was ready to give it to her. I caught her as she was taking off, so I figured I could guide her through her little test flight, and what a story she'd have for her boys! But... There was a cosmic storm. She was lost.

Her brother and I were both devastated, but he blamed ME for her death! So, while I poured everything I had into search teams and desperate attempts to find her, he took off with the eggs.

I never did find her.

Ten years later, I've been trying to put this all behind me when lo and behold: my nephew is back. And he brought the triplets (10 M, ×3). And needs a favor.

As bitter as I've been about this, I do still love him (more than words can say), and I really did miss having little chaos monsters in my home, so they've been staying while my nephew tries to rebuild his own home. (Long story short, the triplets toomfoolery nearly tore it apart!) I've been taking us all on a couole adventures, just like the old days, and it's been nice. I finally feel alive again.

The triplets are, of course, as sharp as their mother and twice as curious, and went on to investigate her disappearance behind my back. It took one of them nearly dying for them to finally just ask me about it.

So I told them. And now they blame me!!! Again!!! As if I didn't do everything in my power to get her back.

As if to sprinkle salt in the wound, by the time we got home from that expidition, my nephew had finished rebuilding his home, and they've all moved out.

So. To conclude. AITA for gifting my niece, a new mother, a rocket ship? Am I really to blame for her death when she stole it before it was ready, and I did everything I could to protect her?

I don't think I'm at fault, but this has been eating at me for years, and I've driven away everyone that ever cared about me, so I've come here for a second opinion.

[fe-fictions]

I can't believe I have to post about this a second time in a year, but I have another sick kitty...

We lost our senior cat Henry in February, it was just time for him to go. He was a handsome and wonderful 14 years old, and had been with us since we were children.

And not long after we lost him, my sibling and I (we live together) decided the apartment was just too empty without him...we were missing the warmth and the joy that a sweet kitty cat brought with him.

So we each adopted our very own cats; a handsome long-haired 3 month old boy named Gojo, and a beautiful short-haired 5 month old girl named Luisa.

Luisa is my baby girl. She was born in September, the same month as me, and she's my whole world. But the last few days, she's been eating less, playing less, and getting more and more docile and lethargic.

I took her to the emergency vet today because she wasn't eating at all and was hiding since yesterday morning. He told me that she had an auto immune disorder, and was extremely anemic.

He gave me three options; try steroids and antibiotics, see if she responds to them, or they could hospitalize her and give her a blood transfusion, which was way, way too expensive...if I had the money I would've done it in a heartbeat, and it breaks my heart to think that I could've done more for her if I had a better job and could provide for my baby more. And the third option was to put her to sleep there, because her odds were slim.

I chose the option to get her medication, which was a quarter the cost of a hospitalization, and he assured me typically saw really good results, but that sometimes it would take a few days or a week or two before seeing improvement.

I gave her the first dose as soon as we got home, got her set up in my room, but she's still not eating, won't go to the bathroom, and I'm just really, really worried that I'm gonna have to say goodbye to her, before she's even a year old.

I'm just not ready to say goodbye again. Twice in the same year, two of my sweet babies. I am not ready to do that again. It happened so fast. The shelter I got her at likely had no idea she was sick; she showed no signs of it until just a few days ago. I hate that she's so fragile, and that I can't do enough for her. It's just crushing.

I want to try and focus on the positive, and hope that she's gonna pull through in the next few days. I'm just so sad, because it wasn't that long ago I saw this behavior in a dying cat. I know what it looks like, I felt it, I could see it. And I'm not ready to do that again.

I was supposed to have at least ten years with this slinky little baby. I don't want to believe that I'm gonna have to say goodbye to her. I won't know for at least a few days; but if she stops eating and she can't go to the bathroom, I don't know where to go from there.

I just wanted to vent, I wanted to let you all know that's what I'm dealing with right now. I hope you'll continue to have patience with me, and to those who commissioned art from me, I'm gonna work hard to get it done ASAP since it's already been a while, and I just need to do something to keep my mind off of what's going on right now.

But yeah. That's what's going on at this moment, and so if I sort of disappear for a little while or my posts go a while without anything, that's why.

Thanks for being so sweet, you guys are such a wonderful group of fellow FE enthusiasts and I love writing for you all. It's without a doubt the group of the friendliest and sweetest people I've ever run into; whenever awful things were going on, IRL or online, I would always come here because the drama or the stressful mess would never reach it; this place is my little safe haven haha

So thank you for being here, and thank you for listening and for your patience! I'll do everything I can to keep up.

- chiyo

[gentil-minou]

Background Info about OUAT for my MDZS fic

So I recognize not everyone has seen Once Upon a Time so this fic and premise might be a bit confusing. I wanted to make a short notes/guide in case people might be curious about the premise of the show and how it will fit into my fic specifically.

You can read the fic itself here on Ao3

Once Upon a Time is a show where characters from various western fairytales get cursed to live in modern day Maine. The hero is Emma, who is the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming but was separated from them as a baby when the curse hit. She grew up in the real world and suffered the perils of foster care and other not fun realities, so by the time we meet her she's almost 30 and pretty jaded. Then, the son she gave up for adoption ten years ago finds her on her birthday. He says he's her son, Henry, and that she needs to follow him back to his hometown, to lift the curse set by the evil queen and help bring these fairytale characters back where they belong.

The fun part is, this evil queen, Regina is actually Henry's adoptive mom and the primary antagonist of season 1. And although Emma is skeptical of Henry's claims, she realizes she wants to be his mom after all and get to the bottoms of all the mystery surrounding the town and its odd inhabitants.

There's like so much more involved, like Emma's best friend actually ends up being her mom Snow White, and in one season they go to both Camelot and Hell, and also they play fast and loose with what a fairytale character is because the doctor is Victor Frankenstein. and pretty much everything gets fixed with True Love's Kiss it practically becomes an in-universe meme. The plot gets absolutely unhinged (I mean this with all the love in my heart, I adore this show), but I'm mostly drawing from the first season.

Mostly the bits I took from the show are the whole curse, except here the cultivation world is dragged into some American small town with no memories of where they're from. There are some hints that not everything is as it seems, like all the signs being in Chinese and no one being able to leave/contact the outside world. However, just like in the show, because of the curse the people in the town have no idea anything is wrong, they just believe this is all normal.

The show goes a bit further in that the town has basically been frozen in time while Emma aged 30 years, only unfreezing when she arrives. I decided to do away with that, so in my fic it's been about 5 years since they arrived and everyone aged normally.

Another important thing to remember is all the fairytale characters are basically growing up miserable and cursed with the exception of Regina, the evil queen who set the curse and acts as the mayor of the town. For instance, Snow White and Prince Charming are cursed to be separate as Prince Charming is both under a sleeping curse and engaged to someone else. Basically everything sucks then Emma comes and fixes it. That is something that will also be happening in my fic, and the first few chapters are about establishing the level of suck before we get to mystery involved.

The formatting of the show is also important. Similar to the MDZS novel, each episode features flashbacks to the fairytale land in the past that tells a bit more about the story happening in the present modern day. That's not something I can easily achieve in fic form, so instead at the end of each chapter (hopefully) I am including a once upon a time excerpt meant to tell clues about what happened to lead our characters to where they are. It's canon divergence from the burial mounds, as evidenced by the fact that in the first chapter Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are already together in the burial mounds with A-Yuan and the Wens. I'm hoping to give more info at a steady pace, but the intention is to leave the readers as confused as Wei Wuxian and everyone else is.

Otherwise, besides the basic premise and a few easter eggs, the plot and characters in my fic are more true to MDZS and not at all to OUAT. For instance, Regina's role is taken by Lan Wangji but he is absolutely not the one who set the curse and is under it just like the others. There's more, but I won't spoil it.

Some of the bits of fun easter eggs I added were Wei Wuxian's Lilttle Apple Bug, based on Emma's yellow bug that basically becomes a character of its own in the show. Also his red leather jacket is based on hers too. The book A-Yuan shows Wei Wuxian is also based on the fairytale book Henry shows Emma, except I'm picturing it looking more like a more extravagent version of the books in the Cloud Recesses

I want to add more Easter eggs as we go but my main focus here is on MDZS than the show, but if you catch anything else you get a gold star!!!

Thanks for reading this mess if you did sdjkghd. I think I covered the main bits I wanted to clarify, but if you have any questions dont be afraid to reply or send an ask, or leave a comment on the fic! I'm having so much fun with this AU featuring two of my favorite fandoms, so yay!

[pom-seedss]

So, I promised a nice update too right?

As some of you may remember last year we adopted Artemis to try to help give Lilith someone to socialize with.... but it didn't quite work out. (Pictured below: Lilith being liquid and squirrely)

Lilith is an active player still at age 3, and since Art wasn't that old we thought she would get along. But turns out Artemis is a much more laid back low-activity kind of cat, not that she won't play, but she never liked the chase-me or wrestle games that Lilith preferred. So, as many of you know from previous posts, we had to make the decision to surrender Artemis back to the shelter because after a year of trying to get them to get along Lil and Art's relationship was breaking down.

This was.... tragic and I still don't feel good about it. Y'all know I loved Art, but she was making Lilith bleed so... something had to give.

We were obviously hesitant to get another cat right away. Even though, Lilith definitely needs a play and cuddle mate as Bean and I proved to be insufficient for her. We didn't have the time or energy to become that playmate which is why we decided to get Artemis in the first place.

But Pom! I hear you cry. This was supposed to be a happy update! Friends, have patience, it is! I give you this information so that you can be as elated as I am at how things worked out in the end....

Everyone, meet Goose.

At a local adoption event run by the shelter near us I met this handsome little black kitty. He was outgoing and I was told does really well with other cats. I met him and a few others a couple times and then had the Serious Talk with Bean. Then, we had Bean come in and meet a couple of candidates I'd thought would fit, but he just kept hovering and returning to Goose's cage. And I knew, I knew, when Bean looks at an animal like that.... he has this warm glow with a deep gleeful shine in his eyes and I knew Goose was ours.

I wasn't going to post about him right away because of how things turned out with Artemis, but friends... it's been ten days and he feels like he's been here forever.

He fits *right* in to our home. Him and Lilith are already comfortable playing and they are even starting to cuddle together sometimes. I didn't have that kind of progress between Art and Lil for *months* and even then they were never this comfortable with one another.

Goose purrs like a monster truck, plays like a champ, is extremely polite and courteous when the other animals give him signals to back off, I just.... he is the perfect little man for us.

This was only a few days into integration.

And this was yesterday. We've had him for a week and a half and he is already fully integrated into the house.

You cannot believe how happy I am with this little man. So yeah! Goose has come into our lives and has already made it tenfold better. I am so grateful to have been able to meet him and add him to the family.

[dixonsmonroe]

Plus One

Part 3 of the Lost and Found series.

Part 1

Part 2

Summary: Bucky decides he’s finally ready to adopt a cat, so you venture out into the city to find his perfect match.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2,875

Author’s note: what kind of person would i be if i wrote a fic about two cat lovers and not bring in alpine? (i also tried to refrain from going into vet tech work mode while writing the scene in the vet’s office and tried to keep it short lol.)

Warnings: a whole bunch of fluff and also cats

There was a light knocking at your door as you finished getting ready for the day. You and Bucky had agreed to leave for the animal shelter at eleven AM, and it was only ten-forty. You thought it was adorable how he was itching to start looking for a cat, and today was finally the day. You tried to assure him that it wasn’t always as easy as it had been with you and Gomez, that sometimes it takes a few different tries before you find the one. He tried to act nonchalant, acting as if he wasn’t too worried. But even under that tough exterior you knew he was excited.

Gomez happily trotted over to the door and sat in front of it. He looked back at you as if to say ‘my second favorite person is here, are you going to let him in?’ You had no idea when he had learned the sound of Bucky’s footsteps specifically, but he always knew when it was your supersoldier neighbor on the other side of the door. 

You gave your cat a small scratch behind the ear before opening the door. Bucky stood there with a brand new looking cat carrier. He leaned in and kissed you softly and your heart fluttered. You had been seeing each other for about four months at this point, and while neither of you had used labels yet, there was always a hello kiss waiting for you.

“Morning,” he smiled, and you stood aside for him to come in.

“Morning,” you grinned back at the way Gomez did figure eights between Bucky’s legs as he walked into the apartment. “You look prepared.”

“Yeah,” he blushed a little and tried to hide it while he paid most of his attention to Gomez. “I know you said I could use Gomez’s carrier, but I wanna make sure I have everything, y’know?”

“I get it,” you replied with a grin, because you did get it. “Ready to go?”

“I am,” he said and stood up. 

While you walked over to the door, Gomez let out an indignant chirp of protest. 

“Sorry, pal,” you said and kissed him on top of his head. “Maybe when we get back we’ll have a friend for you.”

You walked your way to the train station and caught the first one to the stop near the shelter.

“How does Gomez feel about other cats?” Bucky asked you.

“He doesn’t really pay attention to them for the most part, I’ve seen him get along with other cats, but he definitely prefers people,” you explained. “You really want them to get along, huh?”

“Well, I don’t want him to think I’m replacing him,” Bucky said, and you could tell he really wasn’t joking. That made you feel warm all over; you knew that Gomez had essentially claimed Bucky as his own territory, but the fact that Bucky was planning around your situation made you feel like he planned on sticking around.

When you walked up to the doors of the shelter, you were welcomed by a young woman who gave you a warm smile.

“Hi, welcome,” she said. “Looking to adopt a cat or a dog?”

“A cat,” Bucky replied. “Preferably good with other cats.”

She nodded and waved toward the door that led to the cat area of the shelter. “Come with me.”

You followed Bucky and walked by plenty of different cats. You pointed out a sweet old lady cat who rubbed her face against your hand between the bars of the kennel door. It said “I’ve been adopted!” on her information card. It made your heart happy; a lot of older animals often got left behind at shelters.

“She’s probably the sweetest one we have here,” the girl said. “She’s been passed up by a lot of people because she has a lot of health problems. A couple is taking her home in a few days, they have the means to pay her medical bills and they fell in love with her immediately when they met her.”

“That’s so sweet,” you smiled. 

Bucky smiled at the cat as they passed by. They met a few candidates; a tuxedo kitten that liked chasing shoelaces, but was not a fan of other cats. A little orange cat who immediately flopped onto your shoes and showed his belly. He reminded you a bit of Gomez, except a little lazier and less mischievous. 

Bucky seemed to like them all, but you could tell there was that lack of a spark with any of them. Still, it was sweet to watch him interact with them.

When the verdict was that none of them were ‘the one’, Bucky didn’t have to say it out loud. You could see the slight disappointment behind his eyes, maybe that other people wouldn’t notice, so you politely said you both had a lot to think about and that you’d be in touch with the shelter.

As you walked out, you tried to keep Bucky’s spirits up; it was only the first shelter, there were plenty more cats to see in New York, he’d find the one, etc.

As you walked out of shelter number three with still no luck, you could tell your words were becoming just that and nothing more. His shoulders seemed somewhat heavy, and he looked defeated.

“Hey,” you said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze as you walked. “I’m sorry. I know it’s frustrating.”

He sighed heavily. “That’s okay, we can try again to–”

There was a loud crash off to the side in an alley near you. It was late afternoon, but there weren’t many people around, so of course you weren’t exactly jumping to investigate.

When you heard a loud ‘meow,’ Bucky felt differently. He turned to look in the alleyway and as he walked slowly down it, a little ball of fluff bolted out from behind a dumpster.

The cat looked at the both of you, Bucky now stopped in his tracks so as not to scare her. She gave you a little ‘mew?’ and walked towards Bucky slowly. You held your breath to see how the cat would react, and you weren’t the least bit surprised when she started rubbing on his legs and asking for pets.

Bucky slowly knelt down and scratched her behind the ears, like Gomez liked. You walked slowly closer to them, her purring loud and insistent. The cat saw you and meowed again, this time coming over to you and pushing her head against your hand that you had offered out.

“Well, son of a bitch,” you smiled.

Bucky seemed like he couldn’t believe it, like this was too good to be true.

“Think she’s got a home?” He asked. It was a fair question; you assumed that under all the dirt and filth on her long fur, she was white and probably matted. She was skinny, very much so, like she had only been living off scraps for a while.

“She seems to love people,” you replied. “I say we start walking and see what happens. Maybe she likes her little alleyway.”

Bucky stood up and gave a small huff. “We can’t leave her here.”

“Something tells me she’s not going to let us anyway,” you grinned, watching as the cat rubbed her face on your leg. 

Sure enough, as you both started walking away, the little cat trotted beside you to keep up and you could tell it was taking everything Bucky had not to pick her up. When you got to the entrance to the subway, you stopped him.

“Put the carrier down and maybe see what she does?” You suggested.

When Bucky did so, the cat seemed a little unsure. She sniffed the open door, but didn’t go in. Instead, she rubbed up on Bucky’s legs again. You held back a giggle and watched as he marveled at this small animal. She let out a loud, demanding meow, and he scooped her up. The moment she was in his arms, she laid her head back against his arm and closed her eyes contentedly. 

“I’m gonna call my vet,” you said, taking your phone out as Bucky looked down at this cat like it was his own kid. “We should get her scanned for a microchip and see if she has an owner.”

He grunted in agreement, even though you knew he had probably already decided this was his cat now.

After a visit to the vet, and all the nurses fawning over how loving and adorable this little ball of fluff was, it was determined that there was no microchip. The doctor said because of how thin she was, she probably hadn’t had any actual cat food in a long time. They were able to fit her in for a full appointment that day, Bucky insisting that he would pay for any testing and vaccines she needed.

When they brought the cat back out to you, she was clean and happy.

“I was wondering what you looked like under all that dirt,” you smiled and scratched under her chin, which she loved. “What’s the verdict?”

“She’s clean and healthy, no fleas, but we treated her for a skin infection, and we gave her a bath which she was surprisingly very good for,” the nurse smiled. “Is this going to be Gomez’s new friend?”

You smiled and looked at Bucky, who nodded happily. “That’s what we’re hoping for.”

The nurse gave Bucky a handout of everything about the visit. Which food to feed, how many calories she should be eating to get her to a healthy weight, and when she should come back for a recheck.

When you left the facility, the cat still didn’t want to get into the carrier, so Bucky put her in his jacket and zipped it up with her head sticking out. The cat looked perfectly content, and closed her eyes the whole train ride home.

“What are you thinking of for a name?” You asked.

“I dunno,” he said. “I’m gonna think about it tonight.”

When you got back, you hung out upstairs in his apartment with the two of them for a while.

“She’s really sweet,” you said as you watched the cat fall asleep in Bucky’s lap. 

“She is,” he replied, scratching under her chin.

“I’m gonna let the two of you get acquainted,” you said, standing up and leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow to visit.” You said, this time to the cat. 

“Hey,” he took your hand and pulled you down for a kiss on the lips. “Thanks for everything, sweetheart.”

“Anytime,” you smiled and headed back downstairs.

When you closed the door behind you, Gomez was immediately attached to you. He sniffed your jeans obsessively, as if to ask, “where have you been, and with who?”

“Hey, bud,” you scooped him up and he purred against you. “I think we found you a little friend. I hope you like each other.”

He chirped at you and you laughed.

“You’re right, what am I saying? Of course she’ll like you,” you set him down on the bed and he rolled onto his back and stretched, seeming content that his human was back in his graces where she belonged. 

When you woke up the next day, you heard a bang from above you. You startled out of bed and looked around. Gomez was still sound asleep at the end of the bed, so you got up and put on your sweatpants. 

Bucky’s apartment was right above you, so you figured you could start there. You jogged up the stairs, but stopped when a little plastic ball with a bell inside came jingling towards you. You stopped it with your foot and looked to find Bucky at the top of the stairs, brown paper shopping bags broken in his arms.

“I see someone is having an eventful morning,” you smiled and started picking up the various things he dropped. There were about a million cat toys, a box of cat treats, and a cute little light blue collar with fish skeletons on it. There was also a case of cans of wet cat food, which you assumed was the noise that had woken you up.

“I thought you bought everything already,” you raised an eyebrow, amused at the sight before you.

“I thought I did, but I wasn’t sure if she liked dry or wet food, so I went back for some more stuff,” he said honestly. “I was going to ask you to come with me, but I know you like to sleep in on your days off, and I was getting kind of antsy.”

“It’s okay,” you replied. “Let me help you with this stuff.”

You carried the cat’s things into his apartment, and she was at the door immediately, greeting you as if she’d known you her whole life. You pet her and tossed one of the toys onto the floor, which she immediately darted after. She wasn’t a kitten, but with her behavior she couldn’t be that old, either.

You started setting her things out, and picked up the collar, now noticing the little gold name tag on it.

“Alpine?” You asked.

He shrugged. “She didn’t really strike me as a ‘Snowflake’ or a ‘Snowball’.”

The little cat looked up at you and you admired her fluff and her sweet, blue eyes. 

“Alpine,” you said finally and tested out picking her up, which she let you do happily. “I think it fits.”

You and the cat looked at each other and she slowly blinked contentedly at you. When you looked back up at Bucky, you caught him leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest, grinning at you warmly.

“What?” You arched an eyebrow and smiled back.

“Nothin,” he walked over and kissed you. “It’s nice to see my two girls hangin’ out, that’s all.”

Your heart skipped at that; You figured it was his old-fashioned nature. But now you were wondering if you truly were official, if you were allowed to call him your boyfriend or not.

“I like the sound of that,” you said, looking up into his eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked, placing another soft kiss on your lips. “Are you my girl?”

“I am,” you smiled. “Of course.”

You placed Alpine on the ground and put your arms around Bucky and kissed him. It was nice, knowing you were someone’s. You didn’t ever really care for labels, never cared so much for commitment. But with Bucky it was easy; you always felt safe, and you were never insecure about yourself or about what he was doing. You trusted him, and as much as that scared you, it also thrilled you.

“Think we should introduce them?” Bucky asked, nodding to Alpine.

You shrugged. “I feel like maybe we should give her a couple days. She just got here, I don’t wanna overwhelm her.”

“Good idea,” he agreed.

A few days later, you both decided it was time. You had given the cats each something that belonged to the other, so that the smell wasn’t foreign when they met. You were sure Gomez would be fine, but you knew next to nothing about Alpine. She was sweet with people, but you didn’t know what her life was like as a stray. You just stayed optimistic and kept your hopes up.

When Bucky came to the door, Gomez was there waiting. You opened it and found Bucky holding Alpine. Gomez tilted his head in curiosity, watching as Bucky closed the door behind him and put Alpine down in the living room. The two cats stared at each other for a long moment, and all you could think was here it comes, they’re going to hate each other, there’s no way–

And before you could finish that thought, Alpine meowed happily and started purring loudly. Gomez also softened and tried rubbing up on her. Before you knew it, they passed by each other, and Gomez followed her around as she investigated the apartment. The relief that flooded through you was almost euphoric.

You looked up at Bucky, who looked like a proud father, and smiled.

“Best case scenario, huh?” You said.

He put his arm around you as you watched Alpine roll over and show Gomez her belly, which caused Gomez to go over to her and lick her face. The two of them acted like they were old friends; it was very much a “where have you been all my life?” situation.

For the rest of the night, you sat on the couch watching TV, both cats snuggled on your laps, sleeping. Bucky’s arm was around you and your head was resting on his shoulder. It all felt very domestic, and you were surprised at how much that made your heart swell. You glanced up at him as he was enamored with the show on your television, and you couldn’t help but smile. You directed your focus back to the TV, and you didn’t catch the way he smiled softly down at you. He’d never been in love, but if it was anything like what he’d heard described so often, he was certain that this was it.

[leffee]

More lps generated incorrect quotes except this time I decided not to put them as screenshots but simply copy them like that because they're easier to read this way (stealing lps-incorrect-quotes' job :O):

Vinnie: Why does Sunil always do the laundry so loudly?

Russell: So everyone knows that no one helps him out in the house.

Sunil, in the distance: * slams the washing machine shut*

Vinnie: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY-

Russell: Awwww, you're so adorable! Give me a hug~

Vinnie: Wh- What? NO, YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH-

Sunil, recording: This is so cute.

Vinnie, negotiating with Sunil

Sunil: We have Russell. Give us ten thousand dollars and he will be returned to you unharmed

Russell: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I'm only worth ten thousand dollars?

Vinnie:

Russell: MAKE IT ONE MILLION-

Vinnie: Russell STOP

Vinnie: If you had to choose between Sunil and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose?

Russell: That depends, how much money are we taking about?

Sunil: Russell!

Vinnie: 63 cents.

Russell: I'll take the money.

Sunil: Russell!!!

Sunil: What time is it?

Vinnie: I don't know; pass me that saxophone and we'll find out

Vinnie: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Russell: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Vinnie: It's 2 am

Sunil: Yo dumbass, get over here.

Russell: Okay.

Vinnie: * gleefully runs past* I'm coming!

Russell, sadly: I thought...I was dumbass...

Sunil: Vinnie, I am questioning your sanity...

Russell: I never questioned it, I knew his sanity was missing from the start.

Sunil: Well, remember when Russell made a romantic dinner for me?

Vinnie: Sunil, he microwaved you a pizza.

Sunil: You bought a taco?

Vinnie: Yes.

Sunil: From the same truck that hit Russell?!

Vinnie, with a mouthful of taco: Well, me starving ain't gonna help him.

Sunil, driving Vinnie and Russell: So how was your day?

Vinnie: We almost got surprise adopted!

Sunil: What?

Russell: We almost got kidnapped.

Sunil: Oh, okay.

Sunil: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Sunil: Hey, did you know as a kid I accidentally ate paper?

Russell: I feel like we've all done that at least once.

Vinnie: I ate it too-

Russell: See?

Vinnie:-On purpose...

Sunil & Russell: ...What?

Vinnie: Sunil is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. What should I do?

Zoe: Punch him in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him.

Pepper: Tackle them!

Russell: Dump them.

Penny: Kick them in the shin!

Sunil: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

Vinnie: *dies*

Pepper: Timer starts now! When is he coming back? I say two months!

Sunil: Bullshit. One month.

Zoe: Nah, half a month.

Russell, sobbing: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? A PERSON JUST DIED!

Penny, scratching chin in thought: One week.

Vinnie, rubbing his temples: I am not proud of what I am about to say, but someone get me a cigarrette.

Pepper: But Vinnie, we don't smoke.

Vinnie: Cut the crap, Pepper. I'm not an idiot. I know that one in five people smoke.

Vinnie: *points at Penny* One! *points at Sunil* Two! *points at Russell* Three! *points at Zoe* Four! *points at Pepper* Five!

Vinnie: Now, I am going to close my eyes, and when I open them, there better be a cigarrette between these two fingers!

Zoe: *puts a cigarrette in Vinnie's hand*

Vinnie: Thank you. ...Light?

The Squad: *all simultaneously pull out lighters*

Vinnie: You know, when Pepper comes over, Zoe can get a little…

Sunil: Psycho?

Russell: Scary?

Penny: Drunk?

Vinnie: All three.

Vinnie: Fine! Judge all you want but...

Vinnie, points at Penny: Married a lesbian.

Vinnie, points at Zoe: Left a man at the altar.

Vinnie, points at Sunil: Fell in love with a gay ice dancer.

Vinnie, points at Russell: Threw a girl's wooden leg in a fire.

Vinnie, points at Pepper: Lives in a box!

Since I copied them in text I thought that I could just change names manually if they didn't fit, but then I left them the way they were generated because I decided that it was funnier like that :D