#mrs. snuffles the cat

[haveihitanerve]

Only in Gotham does red hood steal your cat at three in the morning because he “forgot to buy Robin a birthday present”

[bossidiotart]

Me: man, I wish rottmnt fanfic writers would write in a cat sleeping next to Leo when he’s healing from his wounds after the movie :/

Also me: wait….I’m a rottmnt fic writer…..

————————————————————————————-

Leo did not want to be awake. Awake meant pain, it meant uncomfortable bandages, stiff joints and muscles. It meant a groggy mind from painkillers that should be saved for those who need them most. Yet here he is, pain dully throbbing almost everywhere on him, his eyes dry, body achy and stiff. Not to mention the chill that told him he’s definitely in the med bay. One thing, however, that he didn’t expect was a soft, hot patch snuggled between his left arm and side.

He cracked his eyes open and moved his head as much as he could, blinking a few times to register what’s there. A soft smile spread on his sore face. The unmistakable black and white came into focus, a little pink nose standing out from it. Leo lifted his right arm as best he could and stroked its head.

“Hey, Snuffy,” he cooed in a hoarse whisper.

Mr. Snuffles stirred and stretched his legs. He twisted a bit while leaning into Leo’s bandaged fingers. Leo huffed and flinched when his ribs protested.

“You keeping me from getting up, buddy?” A low rumble emitted from Snuffy’s body. He’ll take that as a yes. “Clever kitty.”

He gently pushed the cat’s head closer to him as he bent his head down to plant a smooch on his head. The purring grew louder. Snuffles tilted his head up, and Leo took advantage to scratch under his chin.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he croaked. “I shouldn’t be moving this much.” Mr. Snuffles doesn’t care. He’s getting attention and that’s all that matters. Leo winced as his body protested the movements and kept petting him. “Worth it.”

Mr. Snuffles stood and arched his back. His body trembled from it.

“Big stretch,” Leo instinctually commented. Mr. Snuffles turned around and flopped onto his shoulder. He licked Leo’s cheek, his rough tongue scratching his skin. “Aww, thanks, bud. I love you, too.”

Snuffy dropped his head and snuggled into his neck. Leo smiled, gently dropping his own head onto the cat’s and closed his eyes. He breathed in a sore breath; he slowly let it out through his mouth while focusing on Mr. Snuffles’ purring. They stayed like that for a whole three seconds before Snuffles moved his head to lick his fur.

“Come on, man, you’re ruining my focus.” The feline, of course, did not care. He just went on cleaning himself. Leo chuckled; a cough shook his frame, and he turned his head away as more ripped out of him. Mr. Snuffles let out a concerned meow, stood and pressed his body against Leo’s head. His purring amped up some as he licked at Leo’s sweating head.

“Snuffy—“ Leo’s voice strained between coughs. “Gross!” He took in deep breaths as the coughing died down. His ribs hurt worse now. His body’s uncomfortably hot. Damn it…that’s the last thing he needs after waking up. A goddamn infection.

A wall of black and white fur obscured his vision and got in his mouth. Leo pulled his head back and spat out the fur.

“Snoofle, please, I’m trying to cough my lungs out.” The cat paid no mind as he settled himself on Leo’s chest. He loafed himself and closed his eyes. A gentle purr vibrated through Leo’s bandaged plastron. He rested a hand on Mr. Snuffles’ back and laid his head back against the pillow.

[istherewifiinhell]

i always forget cats will druel... i look up and im like. why are u so wet....

[plumbus-central]

what do u think rick would name his cat?

Honestly I have no idea lol.

I avoid referring to it by any name in my head bc i cant decide on one that feels right. And by Rick's own admission in Solaricks he "hates naming things". (I hc that diane was the one who named beth).

I think rick would try to name the cat like Booger Aids or something and and the family would immediately step in and name it themselves 😂

[soobnny]

invisible string theory — yang jungwon. acquaintances to lovers. high school au. slice of life.

inspired by that one line from glue song, “you’ve been hiding in plain sight, then appeared” (2.6k words)

The problem with having 60 students per classroom is you were bound to make a stranger to at least thirty of them. And for someone who doesn’t talk much, it was like meeting half of your classmates for the first time every morning.

You kept close to your circle of friends, just like everyone else did, and kept in mind where to make eye contact when your homeroom teacher announces a group activity. You liked working with the same group of people, so you held a pretty stable and balanced routine at school. Always sitting at the same seat, always staying in the classroom with your packed lunch during break time, and always riding the same train home. 

Though, from time to time, a few anomalies would pose themselves to your perfectly lined scheduled—the rain always increased the time it would take to get to school, a predetermined group stands as a barrier between the people you know you work well with, and apparently Mr. Snuffles and his paws that had messed up your alarm clock. The culprit lays on your bed as you hurriedly rush around your room to get to school in time. You’re sure you could make it if the station followed the schedule of when the trains would depart. Preparing your lunch, however, would be impossible, and you would just have to stop by a convenience store before attending homeroom.

You disliked the canteen. Students lived off of crowds, an impossibly long line, and an even poorer selection of food than what you can find in a convenience store. It would take half of your break just to get food, and the rest of the half eating. It’s better when you can hold time in your hands in the classroom. 

Opening the door to the convenience store, it was almost a relief to find it almost empty, save for a few students who were probably either getting breakfast, lunch, or a snack. When it was your turn to have your meal checked out, it takes you about 10 seconds to realize you might’ve left your wallet at home. And it takes even faster to confirm when you rummage through your bag and come out empty-handed. 

Damn you, Mr. Snuffles. 

You realize you didn’t spare the time to double check your bag when your sister had borrowed it over the weekend and probably put some of your essentials out. 

Burden raced and dropped down your shoulders as you struggled to explain to the cashier if she could disregard scanning it in the first place. Though, you aren’t given ample time to get your thoughts across when money is handed to her from next to you. 

He looks familiar, the boy with the short and a little disheveled hair. It looks pretty, falling over his forehead, like he came off a 90s magazine. He gives you a look, enigmatic almost, though smiling as he puts his wallet back in his bag. 

“Thank you.” You spoke shyly, though he only grins, showing off his perfect white teeth.

“You’re (Name), right? I’m Jungwon, we’re in the same class.” 

So that’s why he looked familiar. The only thing you knew about him was that he had a dog, had introduced him on the first day of class with a photo. Everything else, you learned from those around you; he was smart, taking most of the offered advanced subjects, he had multiple senior friends whom he eats with at the canteen, and he was apparently a great dancer. 

“Ohh, I knew you looked familiar.” Your mouth parts in recognition. “Thanks again for saving my ass back there. My cat had messed up my alarm and I left my wallet so today’s just been a disaster so far.” You laugh a little at the tangent your schedule had gone off to. 

“You have a cat?” Jungwon’s eyes light up, and you instantly pull out your phone to show him a picture. “This is Mr. Snuffles.” 

“Mr. Snuffles.” He repeats softly, smiling down at your phone as he shows you his own lockscreen. 

“Now I feel inclined to introduce Maeumi.” 

“Your Maltese puppy, right?” He watches as you dip your head down to look at his phone, grin spread out prettily as you coo quietly. 

“How’d you know?” 

“You introduced him back during first day, I think.” Jungwon looks genuinely surprised that you remember, mouth dropping before he nods his head with the same soft smile on his lips. 

“Well, since we’re heading the same way, do you wanna walk together?” 

For an answer, you grin up at him and say a brisk “sure”, matching your footsteps with his as you walk up the stairs of your school together. 

Conversation flies easy with Jungwon, almost too easy as you talk for the entirety of the short walk to your classroom. You discuss about your poorly functioning lockers, your plans for the upcoming Christmas break, and complain alike about the multitude of projects assigned to you for the first half of the school year. 

“How’s your Biology project holding up?” The instant groan that leaves your lips triggers a laugh from Jungwon. Though, he should’ve been able to predict your reaction after previously just complaining about Ms. Hwang and her 20-page paper about cell division. 

“I swear my head’s gonna explode if I read one more article about mitosis and meiosis.” 

You whine as you walk through another flight of stairs, and his laughter continues to mix with your light-hearted complaints. 

“No, same. My eyes were falling out while I was working on page 12 yesterday.” Jungwon’s hand brushes against yours as a group of students run by you, pressing his shoulder against yours and holding out an arm to make sure they don’t bump into you. 

“Well, they look like they were in a hurry.” He only chuckles before peeling himself away from you. He gives you his full attention. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” You laugh, and he smiles at the confirmation. 

“I can’t believe this is the first time we’re actually talking.” There’s disbelief in his tone as he pushes the doors to your homeroom open. “This was fun.” 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow!”

“There’s really no need.”

The bell interrupts your conversation, and you walk to your respective seats just as your homeroom teacher slips into the classroom. 

+

You don’t meet Jungwon for another month.

After that conversation, you had both returned to the routines you had set for yourselves, and you go back to treating that day as a single anomaly in your perfectly curated schedule. Though, now you find your ears perk up at the slightest mention of his name. 

Similarly, Sunoo’s confused by his friend’s sudden interest when your name had slipped past his mouth. It was something Sunoo had said in the passing, you were simply a side character in the story he’s narrating, yet Jungwon seems to put an awful amount of attention to that part of his story.

“Are you even listening to me?” A whine leaves Sunoo’s lips.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you were in the same club as (Name).” 

“You know her?”

“Yeah… well not really. She’s my classmate, but we aren’t close.” 

“Sounds to me like you have a crush.” He smirks, taking a bite out of his lunch before looking at Jungwon with an accusing eye. 

“I do not have a crush. I was just asking!” Defensive. Just like he always is when he’s getting caught for lying. Jungwon knows better than to hide something from Sunoo. 

“I literally just said (Name) passed me a paintbrush and you’re acting like she’s the main character of my story which, by the way, is ME.” 

“I don’t have a crush.” Jungwon grumbles. 

“Look, there she is right now.” 

Jungwon’s head whips at an impossible rate, an impressive distance over time that Isaac Newton might as well have made a fourth law of motion. His head is craned, scanning over the cafeteria in search of you before a pin drops in his head and he turns back in shame at having been fooled by Kim Sunoo of all people. 

Sunoo laughs, and Jungwon drops his head on the cafeteria table in embarrassment. “Wipe that stupid smile off your face.” 

Though, despite Jungwon’s sudden interest, it still takes almost thirty days after your chance encounter for you to meet again at the same convenience store. It was another day to grab a small breakfast from the quaint store, and it looks like you had the same idea when the bell rings and Jungwon spots you already in line. 

“Do you mind if I could wait in line with you? It’s getting pretty long.” 

Your head turns at the sudden voice. Soft tones as always. 

“Jungwon, hi! Sure.” You allow him to stand with you in line, and he curiously peeks down at the meal in your hands. The same lunch bowl from a month ago. “Don’t you eat lunch in the classroom? Did Mr. Snuffles do something again?”

“You can say that.” You chuckle. It’s endearing that he remembers. 

And just like a month ago, you walk to class together. He waits for you by the door, only resuming his walk when you’ve caught up to him. “So the Biology paper?” 

His eyes flicker to you when you laugh.

“Almost done, finally.” 

“So, your head didn’t explode?”

“Thankfully not. I think I have Mr. Snuffles to thank for that. He enjoys just putting a paw on my hand as I work, though he is quite distracting. We even got him this little laptop toy so he’d stop stepping on mine.” 

Jungwon smiles. “I’ve read about that somewhere, how cats imitate what you do or somewhere along those lines.”

“Does Maeumi do anything silly like that?”

“Well, it might’ve actually been my fault.” He holds onto the paper bag with your meals, fiddling with the paper. “I thought it would be cool to teach him to get the newspaper by walking her to the door and giving her a treat when she’d carry it back. Long story short, one morning, I found every paper from the street.” 

You shake when you laugh, it’s something Jungwon has noticed. It’s breathy and full as you picture it in your head, and Jungwon brightens up at being able to make you laugh.

That morning, you learn of Jungwon’s own routine, just like you. Every morning, he walks to school and accompanies some kids from his neighborhood, dropping them off at the preschool before heading to school. It’s why he doesn’t have time to eat breakfast at home. He plays with Maeumi a little bit too, running around with her in the sun despite having just woken up. At school, he sits at the front and minds his own business, and he eats at the cafeteria to accompany his friends. It’s the only free time they share together.

It’s nice talking to him. You think it might be the first time in a while that you’re talking to someone outside your small circle, and it’s a little refreshing to be offered a fresh sight of the world around you. He thinks differently, the type of person that has something to offer for your personal growth, the type that casts a life-long impression.

So, as you near your classroom, your shoulders drop at having to say goodbye to him again.

You think it’ll take another thirty days to talk to him, but it turns out, as insane as Ms. Hwang is, you might owe a bit to her for pairing you and Jungwon up to do an errand for her. It’s something about the coming Science Camp your school holds, and the need to get signatures from a few teachers. You don’t know why she’s letting two high school students do her job for her, but you comply because you have no choice. 

“The school always plans disastrous events. I remember our Freshman day, when they let us play those games, that was a whole thing in itself.” You mumble, holding onto the piece of paper and scanning over the list of faculty offices you have to visit. So far, you’ve successfully gotten five signatures out of twelve.

“I remember that! I played in the balloon game, and I was partnered up with a girl. My friends did not stop teasing me for weeks.” 

“Wait, I played in the balloon game too.” You look up at him, eyes bright as you recall the memory.

“Don’t tell me.” 

“Were you wearing a black shirt?”

“I was! What the hell!” He pulls out his phone to look for a photo of that day, scrolling through his phone before shoving the screen to your face. “That’s me!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You lock your eyes to his, and the two of you fall in shared laughter at the chances. You would’ve guessed the possibility falls at less than 1% considering the amount of freshmen students at the time, and the thought that Jungwon had been tied to you by some invisible string on that day is something so enchanting. 

As if, since that day, you’d been tied together and were slowly inching closer and closer until this very moment years later. 

“I can’t believe it was you! My friends couldn’t let me catch a break when I caught you before you could fall face flat.” 

“Look, I’m not the most coordinated person. You put me in a game where people are out to pop the balloon tied around my ankle and you’re basically asking me to fall over my own feet.” 

“But we won, didn’t we? Wasn’t I a good protector?”

“You were alright.” You tease, and he gasps dramatically in response.

“Go ask for the rest of the signatures by yourself.”

“I was kidding! I was kidding! You were the greatest protector of them all, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Jungwon smirks, though, he feels like he’s about to melt in a puddle. 

“That’s better.”

The rest of the time gathering signatures are spent in conversation and laughter. Jungwon would’ve hated staying behind to do more work, would’ve complained about it in the group chat with his friends, but he finds himself enjoying it because he’s with you. It would’ve been hell if it wasn’t with you. 

“I can’t believe we’ve talked more this past month than the last couple years.” You hold onto the straps of your backpack as you leave school together. The sun is starting to set, and the impatient moon peeks from afar. 

Jungwon is almost open-mouthed when the sun hits your face like that. When you look back at him because he’s suddenly falling behind, eyebrow lifted with a smile on your face. He’s sure you know your hypnotizing effect, and you still have the nerve to act oblivious about it. 

He takes a step closer. 

“Do you maybe wanna grab a bite? It’s getting late, and I’m a little hungry.” His words come out hitched, and he’s punching himself over the very obvious nervousness in his voice–as if the way he looks at you isn’t obvious enough to how he feels.

“I’d like that.”

A few months later, Jungwon would ask you to be his and Mr. Snuffles would get all the treats he could possibly want for altering the course of your routine and allowing you to bump into Jungwon. 

+ 

“Babe, you seriously need to stop leaving your wallet. I’m starting to think this is all a ploy so I’ll keep paying for your meals.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. 

“I was kidding. I may have lost a couple won, but I got you out of it.”

“Are you telling me I’m worth just a couple won?”

“What? No, wait! That’s not what I meant!”

[eddiesxangel]

Okay last request of the year.

Eddie kissing reader on new year’s eve and it’s her first kiss💞

The Stroke of Midnight | Eddie Munson x Reader

Wc: 942 cw: alcohol and fluff

Here you were, New Year’s Eve, at Steve’s. Single. Surrounded by couples. Everyone had been paired off. Every. Single. Person.

Robin and Vicky. Steve and Nancy. Hell, even all the kids had their little relationships. And here you were, an hour until midnight, and you would be kissing Mr. Snuffles, the family cat, at this point.

The party was fun, but the reality of the fact that you hadn’t ever been kissed by somebody, let alone getting a New Year’s Eve kiss, was settling in.

Eddie, your only chronically single friend, was supposed to be here. However, it’s now 11:26pm, and he was nowhere to be found. Honestly, you were a tiny bit relieved he wasn’t here. You had liked Eddie. Ok, liked is an understatement. You had a big, fat, massive crush on Eddie Munson.

Eddie was never one of your super close friends. You had been closer with the girls, but he was still a friend. Your group was together whenever you all had the time. You tried at least a few times a week to get together. Eddie was always sweet on you. He was a natural flirt; you were not used to that kind of attention. He makes you flustered in the best way possible.

So when he didn’t show, you were disappointed, but since he was the only singleton out of the group, you felt anxious about him being here...Would you have to kiss? Would he even want to kiss you? Would you be bad at it? What if you sucked at kissing, and he told everybody! What if you asked him, and he rejected you? That would be mortifying!

As you got lost in your thoughts and the sparkling wine you had been downing all night, you didn't hear the door open or anyone or greet the man who had entered the room.

"Hey, sweetheart, sorry I'm late." You snapped out of your thoughts, and standing before you was Eddie. Your stomach was in knots.

"Edde! Hi!" You said a little too enthusiastically.

"Woah, how many of these have we had tonight?" He asks, taking your champagne flute from your hand and sipping it a bit. If it was anyone else that took your drink, you'd be pissed. But it was Eddie. He didn't mean anything by it.

"Only a few." You turn into yourself shyly.

"Well, looks like I need to catch up." He winked. "Care to join me in the kitchen?" He gestured his arm out for you to talk in front of him.

"Okay," You smiled.

You check the TV for the NYE countdown. Seven minutes until midnight.

"I didn't think you were going to come."

"And not be with my favourite person to start the new year? Nah. Have to start off '88 right." He smiled before turning to open the fringe, and you swore your heart stopped.

"Oh," your chest and face immediately felt flush. Thankfully, the door was blocking you, so Eddie couldn't see the look of shock in your eyes. "So, uh... what took you so long?" you twiddled with your glass.

"Oh, I had to finish up some last-minute deals... you know. Nothing says Happy New Year like being high." he says before taking a shot.

"Woah, Munson starting off strong," Steve says as he enters the kitchen.

"Gotta catch up with this one; can't be the only sober guy at the party," Eddie pointed to you jokingly.

You just rolled your eyes as you topped off your glass for the cheers.

Steve grabbed his drink and then beckoned the both of you into the living room with the TV countdown. There were only a few minutes left until midnight.

Eddie took your hand and led you into the crowded room. You noticed everyone was paired off, sitting beside one another. As you scanned the area, you noticed that most of the seats were taken. However, Eddie confidently guided you towards a single high-backed leather chair, which could only accommodate one person. He then patted his lap warmly with a smile, gesturing for you to sit with him.

" I uh- you sure?" you stuttered.

"Yes, sweetheart, only a few more seconds until midnight; how am I supposed to kiss you from all the way up there?"

You threw all caution to the wind while thanking your lucky stars you didn't drink too much to be an absolute disaster.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six... the others chanted as you sat down in Eddie's lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder so you could face him.

Six.

You shuffled to get comfortable.

Five.

Eddie wrapped a sroong hand around your waist.

Four.

You looked into Eddie's eyes and took a deep breath.

Three.

Eddie smiled, and you smiled back. It was clear to the others around you that both of you were nervous.

Two.

Eddie nudged your nose with his own nose.

One.

Fireworks! You closed your eyes, and Eddie leaned in. His lips were a little chapped from winter but still soft and plush. He worked his mouth with yours as his hand came up to cup your left cheek. It was so natural, so easy, you couldn't believe how simple kissing was. You'd always thought it would be complicated. Or maybe it's due to the fact that Eddie was really good at it. You had nothing to compare it to, but he was really good at it.

Happy New Year! You heard the others cheer, breaking you out of your thoughts, and Eddie pulled away.

"Happy New Year, Sweets." He tilted your chin up to him.

“Happy New Year, Eddie." you whispered before he kissed you again.

[kenziekay]

Harry Potter (part 1) Recommendations

Check (Part 2) for more recommendations. I got worried this wouldn't save. Part Three (here) Recommendations Masterlist (here)

Draco Malfoy Smut-

Black Suit (short and suggestive) @house-of-serpents934

Fluff-

Toxic Slytherin Boys When You'll Leave if They Won't Change @sinsirellaxx

Texts w/ Draco @kaciebello 

Short Funny Things-

Pansy the Wingwoman @daddiesdrarryy

Slytherin Guys React to Sass @enha-doodles 

Instagram @lmaoiateyourfood

Feelings @hxuse-xf-black

The Boyfriend @taylorisamastermind

Theodore Nott Smut-

Obsessed "Friend" (short) @sunsbum

Attitude (short) @mattyriddlesbitch

Let me Take Care of my Girl (short) @rafesmuse 

Needy @pizzaapeteer

Cry to me (w/c 2.1k) @distantdarlings

Anonymous Flowers Part 2 @mattyriddlesbitch

Fluff-

Your Hoodie (short) @shiftingwithmars

Toxic Slytherin Boys When You'll Leave if They Won't Change @sinsirellaxx

Drunken Nights @mystinkylefttoe26 

Slytherin Boys -Casual Dominance @finnott 

Wretched Witch/unbelievable! @julesinsummer

Lipstick Trend @muchlovekatia

Short Funny Things-

Father Things @nickstarking 

Freckles @enchantedescapist

Slytherin Guys React to Sass @enha-doodles 

Instagram @lmaoiateyourfood

Goose @cash-111

Tom Riddle Smut-

Oral Fixation (Short) @mattyriddlesbitch

Fluff-

Toxic Slytherin Boys When You'll Leave if They Won't Change (not really fluff for Tom but oh well) @sinsirellaxx

Would You Love me if I Was a Worm? @lushaletta

Short Funny Things-

Slytherin Guys React to Sass @enha-doodles 

World Domination @taylorisamastermind

The Boyfriend @taylorisamastermind

Pretty @taylorisamastermind

Bestfriend @taylorisamastermind

Stars @taylorisamastermind

Hand Holding @taylorisamastermind

Gift @taylorisamastermind

Nice to me @taylorisamastermind

Matteo Riddle Smut-

Heat (short) @blondwhowrites

Cockwarm (short) @rafesmuse 

Racoon (short) @blondwhowrites

Ring Theif (short) @blondwhowrites

Shy Bunny (short) @blondwhowrites

Anonymous Flowers Part 2 @mattyriddlesbitch

Fluff-

Happy Hopping (short) @blondwhowrites

Playing Doctor (w/c 684) @crvptidgf 

Toxic Slytherin Boys When You'll Leave if They Won't Change @sinsirellaxx

Mr. Snuffles (short) @blondwhowrites

Doberman @rafesslxt

Fights (short) @blondwhowrites

Short Funny Things-

Slytherin Guys React to Sass @enha-doodles 

Instagram @lmaoiateyourfood

Cat Hunting @blondwhowrites

Have a Baby @blondwhowrites

Goose @cash-111

Sweatshirt @blondwhowrites

Lorenzo Berkshire Smut-

Listen @mattyriddlesbitch

Fluff-

Toxic Slytherin Boys When You'll Leave if They Won't Change @sinsirellaxx

Slytherin Boys -Casual Dominance @finnott 

Body Image @suugarbabe

Short Funny Things-

Slytherin Guys React to Sass @enha-doodles 

Instagram @lmaoiateyourfood

Goose @cash-111

Blaze Zambini Fluff-

Toxic Slytherin Boys When You'll Leave if They Won't Change @sinsirellaxx

Random Texts @kaciebello 

Short Funny Things-

Feelings @hxuse-xf-black

Pansy Parkinson Short Funny Things-

Pansy the Wingwoman @daddiesdrarryy

Instagram @lmaoiateyourfood

[teddyeyeseddie]

The Cherrywood Motel

Starry Haze, Crystal Ball

rockstar!Eddie x housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: ITS BACKKKK AND SO AM I!! Enjoy my lovelies and visit my blog for some life updates!)

warnings: soft eddie, smut, minors dni, oral (fem rec), p in v, cream pie x 2, riding, showering together, a jump from last chapter.

now playing:

You lug all your clothes into the laundromat down the street, heaving the heavy bag onto the table before you once you’ve made your way inside. The smell of bleach and laundry detergent mixes in your nostrils as you sort your piles of dirties.

It’s early in the morning, the only person in the place being you and an elderly woman. You enjoy the quiet, only the soft whirring of the dryers breaking the silence.

You separate your lights from darks, throwing your first load in when a familiar voice resonates through the quaint room.

“Shit- fuck,” you look over to see Eddie struggling with a bag of laundry. You chuckle to yourself, your eyes meeting his. His face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey stranger,” he breathes out as he settles in at the table next to you.

“Hi Eddie,”

Ever since Eddie woke up in your bed, things had been different. Eddie seemed happier, his demeanor not so jittery. You talked more, Eddie revealing more about his life.

You learned he was really a dork. Knows a little too much about horror movies, still plans D&D campaigns for fun, and collects mugs from every new place he goes.

He’s become softer, more himself in the last few days. You found yourself getting closer to him, his magnetic force drawing you in with every little conversation.

His captivating personality had you expressing more things about yourself, like your favorite flower, how you got the scar on your shoulder, and all about your childhood cat, Mr. Snuffles.

Talking to Eddie when he was sober was easy, he didn’t go on unnecessary tangents, he wasn’t as flirty and he looked oh so pretty when he was healthy.

His usual red eyes now pure, no sign of distress in them. He even started taking care of his hair, his usual frizzy locks now smooth and curly. He was doing better. You were proud of him.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,” he says, pulling out all of his clothes and settling them into a pile. He gathers them all in his arms, walking towards a washer.

“Aren’t you gonna sort them?” you ask, chuckling to yourself as Eddie struggles with the large amount of clothes he has in his hands.

“I never do?” he says as if it's almost a question.

“Well, I’m sure you have some 200 dollar shirts in there that are begging to be sorted,”

“My uh- lady at home usually does it. This is how I used to do laundry when I was a kid,”

You roll your eyes, motioning for him to come back to the table.

You sort his dirty clothes for him, it feels pathetic but the smile he has on his face as you help him makes it somewhat worth it.

“You’ve gotta sort lights from darks. I’d suggest separating your whites too but I don’t want you to keel over,”

He chuckles, grabbing the pile of darks and carrying them to a washer. He puts in his quarters, handing you some so you can start the pile of lights.

“So what are you up to for the rest of the day?” he questions as he strolls back to the tables where your clothes still lay.

“Nothing really, apartment hunting for a little bit and then back to the motel,” you gather your pile of clothes, turning towards the washers and placing the items inside. Eddie swoops in front of you and puts quarters in for you, you playfully roll your eyes but smile up at him nonetheless.

“Oooh, that should be fun,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “I uh- owe you for bailing me out so just let me know what you need for the security deposit and I’ll write a check,”

“Thank you Eddie, but you don’t have to. I lost your jacket, I bailed you out, were even,”

Eddie shakes his head, curls flying in all directions at the erratic movement.

“Someone stole my jacket from you, you didn’t just leave it for anyone to take. Plus I can,so let me,” he states, eyes locking with yours in a stare.

“Just let me, it’s the least I can do-” you nod your head, allowing the man to help you pay your way into a new apartment.

A feat that was easier said than done, you had looked at 5 separate places with Christa, none of them being anything close to what you wanted or needed.

You finally decide to call it quits and return back to the hotel, smiling when you see Eddie waiting outside your door with a pizza box in his hand. Christa sends you a wink as you get out of the car, a soft “enjoy yourself” falling from her lips.

Eddie grins widely when he sees you step out of Christa’s car.

“Sorry- thought you were home from your hunting,” he motions towards your car that is parked a few spots down from your door.

“Kinda got stuck at our last place. Creepy landlord,” you straighten out the pleats of your skirt as Eddie sucks in a breath in through his teeth, wincing dramatically.

“At least you dodged that bullet,” he says as he leans against the doorframe waiting for you to open it, his slim shoulders doing a good job at boxing you in. The smell of his cologne makes your mind whir, gone are the days of dried puke and alcohol.

You unlock the door, Eddie’s hand pushing it open forcing you to duck underneath his arm. He lets the door close softly behind him once he is inside, being sure to lock the deadbolt.

He places the pizza box on the small table by the window. He draws the curtains, blocking out the rest of the world and turning the room into a space that was only for the two of you.

“Got your favorite,” he motions to the box with his thumb as he walks up behind you. You’re stepping out of your shoes when Eddie’s arm snakes around your front, under your arm and resting on your collarbone. He’s come over every night since the cleaning fiasco, you talk about the ten-day-whirlwind that the two of you have embarked on and get to know eachother even more.

Eddie spends most of his time apologizing when you recall anything from the short time of knowing him, ashamed of how much he had hurt you.

It’s been a week of take-out, today bringing you to day seventeen. Ten days of hell and seven of something in between a raging fire and a rumbling earthquake- scalding your skin and shaking off the dust settled deep in your soul.

His arm comes undone from you, his hand tracing down your tricep, over your elbow, ghosting down your forearm, finally grasping your hand as he draws you towards the radio sitting in the corner of the room.

Eddie liked to dance- he twirled to what he called your “teeny bopper” music, he swayed his hips to country music, he even danced to his own music when you forced him to listen to it one night.

Eddie danced with you tonight- his fingers fit perfectly through yours, his hand rested right in the dip of your waist, his lips looked pretty in this light.

“Are you thinking about kissing me, sweets?” He questions, a smile forming on his lips as he leans forward. You blush nervously, nodding your head. His smile gets even wider before he leans in, lips capturing yours.

Both his hands come to cup your face, cheeks tugging and eyes crinkled as he leans in further. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, pushing backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. You pull away, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for Eddie to take the reins. He chuckles softly before capturing your lips in another soft kiss before pulling away and plopping down onto the couch. He pulls you into his lap, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

His eyes meet yours, his hands fumbling with the edge of your sweater. A plea on the edge of his lips as he looks up at you. You nod, letting him remove the garment from your body. He audibly moans at the sight, your breasts bouncing freely only leaving you in your skirt.

“Please tell me you have panties on,” he mumbles, hand snaking down to your center. He bites his lips and groans when he’s met with your sticky folds.

“S’ laundry day,” you giggle.

His fingers trace through your slick, he has half a mind to shove the fingers in your face, make you lick yourself off of him. But When he glances over your face, your pouting lips and furrowed brow send his heart racing. He decides right then that you're an angel. He thinks there’s no way you're real, there is absolutely no way you’re here with him.

He wraps his arm around your waist, standing from his place on the couch. He walks you back to the bed as you kiss up the side of his neck. He lands you on the middle, arms caging you in as he leans down to kiss you. He’s much slower this time, desperate clashing of teeth melting to well thought out movements.

You pull away from him, hands coming to mess with the edge of his old band tee.

“You’re much too dressed for the occasion, Mr. Munson,” you giggle out. He smiles down at you, getting up to strip out of his clothes. You hold your breath when he pulls down his boxers, his cock springing out and slapping against his belly. It’s big and you’re sure he knows it.

He crawls back up the bed, kissing from your ankle to your neck. He splays kisses across your face, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss.

His eyes bore into yours as he pushes some hair from your face before kissing you again, but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking.

“M’ gonna eat you out now, kay’?” he mumbles against your lips, you nod, throwing your head back as Eddie begins to kiss back down your body. He stops at the waistband of your skirt, mumbling something to himself before hooking his fingers in the band and pulling the fabric over your bottom.

He moans at the sight of your center, leaning forward to press a kiss to your thighs before diving in completely. He licks from your hole, up to your clit, tongue dancing around the bundle of nerves. Your knuckles grip the white sheets, mind reeling as he works you up to an orgasm. He laps at your pussy, pulling away to spit on his fingers.

His ringed fingers come to push through the sticky mess the two of you have created, one finally pushing in, drawing a guttural moan from your lips. The cold metal of his rings bump against your skin every time he thrusts his fingers in and out. He works you up to three before pulling them out completely, mouth still assaulting your clit, causing you to squeal.

“You ready f’me?” he questions, mouth still between your legs. You tug on his hair, pulling him away from your center, nodding profusely with a smile on your face.

He pushes you further up the bed, settling in between your legs. His cock nudges at your hole, the tip catching inside, you mewl quietly when he pushes in. He leans down, arms settling on either side of your head, his hair tickling your nose as he looks down at you intently.

“So pretty,” You mumble, hand coming up to cup his cheek and draw him into a kiss. He smiles into it, pulling away and admiring the way your face contorts every time he punches that spongy spot inside you.

“S’ all you, sweets,” He moans, forehead pressing against yours as he drives into you. The pace he sets draws moan after moan from deep within you.

Your hand stays cupping his face, kissing him again, your lips barely brushing his when he pulls away.

“C’mon pretty girl, tell me what it is. Wanna know what I should be moaning while I ruin you.”

You shutter a breath out- your name falling off your lips and into the air.

“F-fuck..” he’s full on smiling, his eyes crinkling as he languidly thrusts inside you.

“Eds-Eddie. M’ close,”

“Shit-ok. Where do you want me?” He picks up his pace, cock nudging at all the right places.

“Inside- want you inside,” Your legs lock around his waist, forcing him to bury himself to the hilt as he spills inside of you.

He’s giggling when you finally release him, pulling his still hard cock from inside you and smearing around the mess that has formed between your legs.

“Look so good painted all pretty for me. Could take a picture and look at it all tour long. Would never haveta’ look anywhere else. Just me this little memory and my hand,” he’s pulling your ass cheeks apart, releasing them before his thumb hooks into your pussy as he rummages around on the side table- careful not to knock down the countless polaroids around the camera.

“Can I sweets? Take a pretty little polaroid of this pretty little pussy?” he thrusts his thumb in further, drawing more cum out of you. You giggle when you feel it run down your thighs as you give him a soft hum in response to his question.

He snaps a picture of your most bare area, the idea makes you blush but then there's the idea of Eddie- using it. That makes it feel alright.

“Just wanna take one more,” he says as his cock nudges at your hole again, the puffy skin wanting to scream no but the burn short circuiting your brain at the same time.

He snaps another picture once he’s half inside you, your hands covering your face as you giggle.

“Enough of that,” he says with a small chuckle as he tosses the camera back onto the bedside table. His hands grip your hips as he lazily thrusts into you.

After finally having enough of Eddie’s teasing, you push at Eddie’s belly, signaling him to stop. He flashes you a confused look as he pulls out but soon gets the idea once you scramble off the bed and begin pushing him towards the couch.

He flops down onto the cushions, legs spreading wide. Deft fingers wrapping around your hips as you sink down onto him, your arms snake around his neck and pull at the hair sitting at the nape.

Eddie looks up at you in awe, his eyes never leaving yours as you ride him. His lips are parted, soft breaths and moans tumbling from his mouth.

“Shit- baby I- I can’t last like this-” He groans as he tries to stop your movements. You grab his hand, raising it and placing it on your breast.

“C’mon sweets, come in me again,” He moans sweetly at his own pet name being used against him, his hips stilling once he is settled inside you. He buries his head in your neck as he comes, teeth biting in as he silences himself.

You let him stay inside you for a while, finally pulling off of him when Eddie begins to rub at the skin on your hips.

You’re up on wobbly legs, shooting Eddie a glare when he begins to chuckle.

He throws his hands up in defense and motions to the mess between his legs. Cum has dripped down his balls and pooled in his seat.

“Gonna need to spot clean this one miss housekeeper,” He winces as he gets up, collecting you in his arms and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s shower, yeah?”

You nod, taking his hand as he guides you to the small porcelain tub. He turns on the water, testing it with his fingers before stepping in once it has warmed up. He extends his hand to you, thanking him quietly once you're standing before him in the tiny shower.

He takes a step back, moving out of the spray and allowing you to warm up under the water. You take turns getting your bodies warmed up, Eddie finally assuming his position behind you washing your hair.

“You mentioned tour,” you blush as you recall the memory from moments ago. Eddie’s stops scrubbing your scalp and sighs.

“I- I’m leaving,” he says in an almost whimper.

“Oh, when?”

“Two days,”

[mind-lost-in-the-stars]

incorrect quotes with my favorite characters cause I would never play favoritesssss…..

(this is also arguably incorrect quotes for my Tom adopts Max AU)

——

Richie: Everyone synchronise your watches.

Tom: I don't know how to do that.

Paul: I don't wear a watch.

Emma: Time is a construct.

——

Paul: Tom, remember when you said you weren’t going to interfere with my love life?

Tom: No, that doesn’t sound like me at all.

——

Emma: We have to plan, we have to figure something out.

Paul: Emma, when have any of our plans ever actually worked? We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.

——

Richie: When do I get my own gun?

Emma: I wouldn’t trust you with my kid’s lightsaber.

——

Max: There is no i in happyness…

Emma: There is if you fucking spell it right.

——

Richie: I honestly feel like some of our conversations here are almost word-for-word accurate to the generator.

Emma: Yup.

Paul: Maybe the generator is watching us.

Richie: Wouldn't that imply this conversation will be added?

Richie: ...

Richie: Wait—

——

Richie: *hiding something in their coat* I think we should adopt another kid!

Max: No.

Richie: Why not?

Max: Because when you say “kid”, you mean “cat”, and we already have fifteen of those.

Richie: *unzips coat* Sixteen.

——

Cop: You ran a red light.

Tom: So did you, hypocrite.

Cop: I was following you.

Tom: That was dumb, I'm a terrible driver.

Cop: Get out.

——

Paul: Sometimes I drink milk straight from the container.

Tom: The cow??

Paul: What?

Emma: Tom, W H Y?

——

Emma: Come on, you need to go to bed.

Max: Mr. Snuffles says that I can stay up as long as I want. And that you need to die!

Emma: …

Emma: What the hell, Mr. Snuffles—

——

Emma: Here you go, Paul, a nice hot cup of coffee!

Paul: It's cold.

Emma: A nice cup of coffee.

Paul: It's horrible!

Emma: Cup of coffee.

Paul: I'm not sure if this even IS coffee.

Emma: C U P.

——

Tom: What is the one thing I told you not to do?

Max: Burn the house down.

Tom: And what did you do?

Max: I made dinner.

Tom:

Max:

Tom:

Max: And burnt the house down.

——

Emma: Well, remember when Paul made a romantic dinner for me?

Richie: Emma, they microwaved you a pizza.

——

Richie: If I die first, promise to wait up for me, okay, Max?

Max: Oh, Richie. When I die, I’m taking you with me.

Richie: I can’t tell if that’s a threat or a compliment.

Max: I’d think of it more as a grim inevitability.

—-

Tom: We have fun, don’t we, Paul?

Paul: I have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

——

Emma, to someone that angered them: *Holds two middle fingers*

Tom: Can’t say I’m surprised…

Max: Yeah, flip em off, Emma!

Paul, confused: *Holds one middle finger*

Tom and Max, both very distressed: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

——

Tom: You disgust me.

Emma: *eating a kitkat sideways* I realize this and don’t care.

——

Paul: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Tom's birthday invitations.

Richie: Well, what are they supposed to say?

Paul: "Tom's birthday".

Richie: So, what do they say instead?

Paul: "Tom’s bi".

Richie:

Richie: Works out either way.

——

Tom: How do you connect with a fictional character?

Max: What?

Emma: What?

Paul: What?

Richie: *pulls up a 500 slide presentation* I'm glad you asked.

——

oops my fingered slipped and instead of doing important things I made all of these instead <3 σ(^_^;)

[small-sinclair]

More Band!Au Sinclair HCs that no one asked for:

Au belongs to: @arkunder

Bo and Lester had a drinking contest on stage. Vincent was so disappointed.

They play rock-paper-scissors if one of them has to do an interview.

Ask Vincent about his hidden goldfish snacks! He has them hidden everywhere. He’ll just pull a little bag out of nowhere sometimes.

Bo is, indeed, in therapy. Not for drinking but for mental health.

They once live streamed Bo and Vincent playing chess for a charity event. They are both really good at playing.

Lester went off stage for a moment and came back with nachos. He didn’t play the drums for a set, so the twins did the heavy lifting.

The three brothers had the world’s hottest soup to see who can eat more. No one was surprised when Lester won.

They actually love playing catch! They have baseball gloves and a ball they bring. Before a show, they play catch and chill.

Vincent has a base that looks like a mermaid tail.

They went to a nursing home and played for an elder fan. She was 97 year old and loved heavy metal music. She died a few days after later. In honor of her, Vickey wrote a song and named it after her: “Lilith”.

One time, someone passed a fiddle to the stage and Bo took it. He opened up the case and started tearing into it. The crowd went nuts.

They have sibling tattoos. Bo has a sun, Vincent has a moon, and Lester has a star. It’s on their back.

Bo once sung in French during a song out of boredom. The girls and the gays went nuts.

Vincent likes smoking lavender cigarettes.

A kid placed a flower crown on Lester’s head. He nearly cried.

During a meet and greet at a convention, Bo held a crying baby and calmed them down to let the staff member take a little break.

Whenever they go to award shows, Bo wears his black suit and tie; Vincent wears a three piece suit with a Vincent von Gough themed tie; and Lester is in his finest blue jeans, shiny cowboy boots, a nice plaid, and wears his Luisiana belt buckle.

During an outside show, Lester came on stage with an opossum in his arms. Where did it come from? No one knows.

Whenever Vincent goes out to do charity work and Bo comes with him, the twins like to have fun! They’ll color and play with the kids, let them draw on their arms, and put things in their hair. At the end of the day, they do a group photo with everyone they spent time with and hang the photo in the bus. Vincent puts one in his base case.

Bo has an emotional support stuffie named Snuffles. It’s an alligator.

Vincent stopped the show and hopped off stage. Someone brought their cat and he wanted to pet it.

Speaking of cats, whenever they do an outdoor show, Vincent found a kitten stuck in the sound system under the stage. He crawled under the stage and brought them out. Shes named Soundwave and is loved by Jonesy and the fans.

Bo loves playing the piano before the show starts. He’ll come out in his heavy metal outfit and sits next to the keyboard and play classical music like Mozart.

On Saturdays during the summer, they take the day to go to farmer markets and pop-up sales in the little towns by the city. They wear ‘disguises’ when they go. Some people are able to figure them out, some don’t.

When Louisiana flooded, the boys went back home and helped cleaned up the town (I’m assuming Ambrose is still an alive town). Bo helps rebuild houses and sheds, Lester helps cleaning the mud and the muck along with returning any loose critters to the DNR for recovery, and Vincent cooks d and pass out food at a crisis center. If they have to, they’ll give blood.

SIDE NOTE:

Whenever they go home to Ambrose, everyone treats them normal as if they’re not famous. It gives them some space to breathe.

They don’t stay for too long, maybe a weekend or a week. If they stay longer, Bo is down at the garage, Vincent is in the art and hobby store, and Lester cleans up the roads and road kill. They also take this time to help their next door neighbor, Mr. and Mrs. Lane. They’re like grandparents to them.

They live in their own house while Trudy and their father are in the house from the movie. Because Trudy doesn’t approve of them doing this, she doesn’t visit them, and Victor ignores them.

[boyneptunee]

paint your eyes with sunsets on AO3

4,590 words.

tomarry modern!AU where they adopt a cat. (the cat adopts them?)

There was an orange cat in front of his door.

There shouldn't be a cat in front of his door.

Tom had been bringing boxes left and right, adding the finishing touches to his apartment after the movers had brought his furniture in and unpacked everything for him. He had a few things left in boxes in Abraxas' home, where he had been staying for the past two weeks, waiting for the papers of his new place to be in order and for the cleaners to come in and get everything ready for him.

And now, there was a cat at his door.

It didn't meow at him, didn't scream and definitely didn't purr. It simply sat there, it's big round face open and piercing yellow eyes staring at his soul, seemly deciding whether or not he was worth it's time.

"Well? Shoo." The cat simply kept looking at him, not moving an inch. He needed to finish unpacking before he could fall face first to his bed. Merlin, he was tired. "Go on, I need to get in." He motioned with his foot, his hands still occupied with a pile of boxes.

The cat's whiskers twitched, but otherwise gave no indication that it had heard him.

Just as he was considering the possibilities of yanking the cat out the building by it's scruff, a door at his right opened and a head full of curls poked out.

"Snuffles! Did you get out?" The cat perked up, thrilling at the new person as it bounced to his neighbour's door, tail up and the tip swinging from side to side. "Hello again, my love" the boy crouched down, long fingers scratching the massive cat's head.

Seemly not taking notice of Tom, he turned around and was about to slam his door shut after the cat went into his apartment.

"Is that yours?" He spat.

"Oh? Hey." The boy turned, confused.

Tom didn't respond, simply bore his eyes into his face. The curly haired boy seemed to take in his words, and his face scrunched, indignant.

"Hey! It's not a that! It's a cat. A very lovely cat!"

"Keep the cat in your apartment, then. I don't need it's filthy paws getting into my things."

The boy ran his eyes up and down his body, eyebrows furrowed before bringing a hand up his face to fix his golden wired round glasses.

"You don't live here." He stated, voice accusing.

"Now I do."

"Oh. Welcome, I guess. Please be kind to Mr. Snuffles." And with that he went back to his apartment and closed his door firmly behind him.

Tom stood stunned in his own doorway, boxes still in his hands.

He would definitely have words with the administration.

 

A few days after moving in, he got added to a group chat.

The group's icon is a picture of the orange cat, eyes closed and basking in the sun. A yellow flower had been laid on top of it's head.

Surely, that boy–

His phone pinged with a new notification.

7B: Morning! I leave early today. Anyone on parenting duty?

Tom took one look at the text and assumed the person had confused groups.

Minutes later came a reply.

12C: we in!! 

12C: send him to 12

7B: Going!

A door down the hall from his apartment opened and closed, before Tom heard the familiar sound of the elevator moving.

Just what was going on?

12C: he has arrived!!

12C: have a good day Mrs McGonagall!!

The text was followed by a picture.

A picture of the cat. 

The orange cat, sitting in a blue couch and looking out a window. To be more exact, out of the twelve floor window.

What the hell.

It wouldn't be the last time the cat made an appearance in his life.

There were daily pictures on the group chat, for starters.

There was even a feeding chart on the room off the lobby with a white board and the days of the week written down, along with three ticks to signify the three meals a day. If someone fed the cat, they ticked off so he wouldn't be fed twice on accident.

There was colective money set apart by the administration for extraordinary costs, like the elevator breaking down, or the replacement of a cracked window, or new chairs for the lobby, or the expensive purple treats in the front desk, the towering cat scratch post or even the cat tower, the round little bed by the couch on the lobby that wasn't used or the bag of dry food on the janitors closet or the cans upon cans of wet food. Oh! And the meds.

Because the cat had asthma.

And he needed his inhaler at least twice a day, everyday for the rest of his life.

It was a juggle trying to get the local cat his meds so regularly when he had no owner.

So, it'd seem the residents had decided early on to leave his medication on one apartment only and give the responsibility to one person.

His neighbour.

Harry Potter, of 7A.

So, no matter where the orange monstrosity was, twice a day he either was brought to the seventh floor to Harry, or Harry himself went out to hunt him down for his daily puffs.

It was the end of his second week after moving in, when he was stopped on his way up.

"Hey! Hey, 7C! Hold the doors!" By the time he registered the voice was talking to him, the boy had already ran all the way from the entrence lobby and into the elevator. It was his neighbour. The curly haired one, not the old woman down the hall.

His hair was braided, Tom noted.

"Thanks." He said, even though Tom hadn't even lifted a finger to help. "Hey, do you like spinach?" He asked as they made their way down the hall to their respective apartments.

He didn't answer.

 

Two days later someone rang his doorbell approximately seven times before he could yank the door open, hair still dripping wet from the shower.

"Hi! I have lasagna." The boy said as a way of greeting, manners be dammed. He pushed the casserole into his hands before disappearing into his apartment. His cheeks had been a lovely shade of pink.

 

The next day, it was Tom who was ringing his neighbour's doorbell. Casserole in one hand, cat in the other.

"Hello, lasagna. I have your cat." He dropped both off by the confused looking boy before turning on the spot and disappearing behind the safety of his own walls.

He had been stopped on his way in by an eldery woman he assumed might be the other resident in the seventh floor but could not be sure. She had said that since he was already going up, he should bring the cat in for his daily medication.

Before he knew it, and before he could do anything to stop it he was adopted.

Picked right out of the crowd by some odd twenty people and promptly passed from hand to hand before going back to 7A. 

He was given treats, and gifts, and quality time.

And when he needed time alone when he got too overwhelmed or murderous they let him be, but were never far.

The old lady at 7B had a cat of her own he could sit with, while she chatted about her research papers on the laws of physics which she had put off for so long and finally, after retiring had time to delve herself into. He didn't much understand physics but he could understand the need to scratch an itch of interest.

The family up 12 drove him crazy. It was a whole floor taken up by redheads, all in different shades of orange. All freakled and kind and warm and the mom had a thing for giving him piles of knitted cloths. As if he didn't have enough already.

In the first floor, was the apartment he hated the most. A man with long greasy hair and a crooked nose looked down at him every time he walked by, instead of taking the elevator. The odor coming from the creaks between the door and the wall were dreadful.

In the same floor a man with a long white beard and twinkling eyes sagely kept his old crinkled hands to himself.

The boy in the seventh floor had no such reservations.

He kept bringing him food, even though he had his own. Kept giving him gifts, even though he didn't need them. He pet him, held him, sat with him. 

Tom was dismayed.

The fifth time Tom appeared by his desk with a prepared, homemade meal in hand Abraxas and Orion had sat him down and interrogated him.

"Why didn't you tell us you were dating someone?"

"I'm not dating."

"–you come in, every single day with a delicious looking homemade meals in cute tupperware–"

"I'm not dating anyone, Abraxas."

"–and little handrawn notes of orange cats, and really! Tom, how could you we've knowing each other since we were eleven, do you now value our relationship–"

"Are you jealous?" Tom finally cut in, expression bored as he dug into the food. It was really good. Homemade sfihas today, with rice to the side and cut fruits for snacks. Harry was a saint sent from heaven, Tom thought.

He looked at Abraxas lunch, a pre-prepared meal from down the street, reheated in the offices microwave, all soggy and sad looking with dry vegetables and over salted meat. No dessert.

Did he say saint? Harry was an angel.

Living with a cat, coparenting with 20 other people notwithstanding, was a new experience for Tom.

His one and only pet had been a snake, and reptiles were nothing like warm blooded mammals.

He needed pets for no longer than twelve minutes, he mostly ate wet food and he had constant vet visits. He hated his nails being trimmed and he adored Harry with all his cat heart.

On that they were in agreement.

Harry, much like the cat Mr Snuffles, had carved a place in his heart were previously there was none.

From receiving meals to spending time together to coparenting an orange lazy huge cat, they went from seeing each other every other day to reuniting every single night in Harry's apartment to give Mr Snuffles his medicine and eat dinner.

 

Tom had never had a rutine as healthy as this one he could follow. His life had always revolved around work, and his studies, and being the absolute best at everything he did, always coming out on top.

He could get used to this.

He took to buying Harry things. He had more than enough money to spare, what with being a successful lawyer.

Did he say his favourite mug broke? Tom would buy him ten more. His dining table was wobbly? There was a new, better one coming. His mattress was too hard and he couldn't get any sleep as of late? Well, guess what, he got a whole new bed. The drawers of his dresser kept getting stuck? Oh! There was a dark green antique that really matched Harry's pretty green eyes in the store, who would have known!

Sadly, buying Harry things had extended to buying Mr Snuffles his toys, cat bed, new cute jumpers and most importantly: his meds.

All it had taken for Tom to cave in had been the sad eyes of two boys, one pair green and one pair yellow and Tom had ordered more than enough to last them the whole year.

 

When arriving from work well past midnight one day, he found at least five people arguing in the hallway by the elevators.

Tom's tired brain could not pick the topic of the discussion for the life of him. A headache had been steadily making it's way around and behind his eyes.

He called for the elevator, eyes closed as he leaned on the wall, the arguing not letting up.

A hand landed on his arm, touch gentle. When he opened his eyes he found big green orbs gazing worriedly at him from beneath long black lashes.

"Long day?" Tom simply nodded, english language going out the window. Harry nodded back, and by the time the elevator arrived Tom had leaned back into the wall, a hand still on his arm. The voices bouncing around the hallway were making his head pound worse.

The boy guided him into the elevator and quietly pressed the button to the seventh floor.

He was moved from side to side before a door was opened and a hand pushed him into a dark apartment, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner of the room. He was prompted to sit on a couch.

He tilted his head back as he rubbed his eyes. God, it was possibly the worst migraine he'd had in years.

A couple seconds later a cold wet towel was pressed to his face, and a heavy warm weight was dropped on his lap.

"Do you take anything?" Harry asked lowly, and even thought he was trying to be gentle his voice still rattled around Tom's brain as if he had shouted the question right in his ears. When he didn't answer, a hand landed on his thigh. "Tom?"

"Yes." He croaked. Right, the meds. But for the life of him he wouldn't be able to walk now that he'd sat down. He didn't know how he'd made the ride home from work. Maybe he was still sat in his car. Maybe he was hallucinating.

A hand reached into his suit pocket, where he kept his keys.

"Bedroom." Was all he could muster, but it seemed to be enough for Harry, who was out the door in a flash.

Loud purring started somewhere around his belly, and it took him a while before realizing it was not coming from him.

When he could peal one eye open and peer down at his lap, he found Mr Snuffles comfortably loafing on him, paws perfectly tucked beneath it's body and purring it's little heart out.

The purring was his only company.

Agonizing minutes went by, before Harry burst into the room with his tablets in hand.

He took them dry and prayed it would be enough to at least subside the pounding behind his eyes.

What seemed to be an eternity later, he could feel the pain receding. When he could open his eyes without piercing needles flying from the inside out, he found Harry crouched between his legs, long fingers petting Mr Snuffles.

"Harry." His own voice sounded hoarse to his ears. Just how long had Harry been waiting for his headache to pass?

"Hey" his smile was small, gentle on his face. His eyes were still big and worried "feeling better?" Tom hummed, "Do you wanna lay down? I'll make something to eat." At Tom's raised eyebrows, he added "Don't look at me like that, I'm a hundred percent sure you haven't eaten dinner. I'll make something light, I promise."

"Laying down sounds good."

"Good."

And before he could tilt sideways onto the couch, his arms were grabbed as he was helped to his feet. He couldn't even process the entire situation before he fell face first into Harry's bed.

He was out like a light, not even processing the familiar warm eight settling on his back and the little motor starting up once again.

What seemed to be not enough time later, Harry woke him up.

"You have to eat, love. And Mr Snuffles needs his meds too." When Tom groaned and made no move to get up, he insisted. "C'mon, just a couple of bites. I promise I'll let you sleep as long as you want afterwards."

The weight at his back was removed, and he was helped to a sitting position by the headboard before a tray full of food was placed on his lap.

"I'm taking Snuffles up to eleven, I'm pretty sure they have his inhaler."

"Isn't it late?"

"Yeah, but someone decided it would be a good idea to post on the group chat– didn't you hear all the fighting on the lobby?" At Tom's blank face, Harry nodded in understanding. "Well, anyway, we didn't get anything resolved. I just took the cat and Mr Snuffles and here we are." 

It took a couple of seconds for the words to sink in.

Tom's blue eyes bore into Harry's mischievous green ones.

"Don't look murderous. Eat, I cooked for you." And with that, he hugged the cat close to his body before going out the door to hunt down Mr Snuffles' inhalers.

Tom looked down to the food in front of him. Suddenly he was ravenous.

 

Harry wouldn't let him leave, after. 

First, going on about, what if Tom got another migraine and he couldn't get up to eat or even open the door and– and when Tom's blank face was his only answer, he changed tactics.

Harry would be so, so worried! He simply wouldn't be able to sleep out of worry! All night, tossing and turning, his little heart racing and his stomach clamping in anxiety, green lovely eyes filling with tears, just thinking about–

 

It was possibly the best sleep he got in years. Harry laying at his side, warm body chasing out the cold. Both of them snuggled beneath a pile of comfortable heavy blankets, and Mr Snuffles settled between their heads by the pillows.

The migraine didn't come back.

"My coworkers think we are dating." He said conversationally one night while they were having dinner.

"Your friends, Tom. You've known each other since you were little sprouts."

A beat passed between them, the sound of cutlery against the ceramic their only companion.

"Dating!?" Harry's face turned a lovely shade of pink, green eyes wide behind his glasses. "I mean–"

"Objectively speaking it would be a wise move. We already share much of our time together,"

Harry made a sound at the back of his throat, face turning imposibly redder.

"–and Snuffles gets the responsibility of two working parents–"

"You say it like there aren't at least ten other families in this building at his beck and call–"

"–and of course, there will be always someone in case he has a breathing emergency–"

"Again, really! A whole building –"

"It would please me to know you accept this proposal." Tom finally said.

"I'm sorry, were you asking?" 

"I was stating points, in which–" before he could finish he was interrupted, yet again.

"Ask." His eyes this time were sure, face still flushed but meeting him dead on. "Ask me, Tom Riddle."

"Would you date me?"

The smile he got in response could possibly cure all maladies.

Mr Snuffles took offence to them sharing a bed.

Most importantly, he took issue with Tom being in Harry's bed.

Since Harry was in charge of his inhaler, and with him needing one puff in the morning and one at night, he more often than not slept in his apartment.

The first night Tom had tried sleeping over, he had been attacked, scratched and bitten, meowed at and had it been physically possible, possibly spat at too.

Harry had laughed so hard he had fallen off the bed.

"Maybe it's best we send him down the hall. I'm sure McGonagall will have no issue having him over."

"You're not kicking the cat out just so we can have sex!"

"Are you putting the cat before me?"

"He was here first."

"He's not the one who's going to eat you out until you cry." 

"I'm not tossing the cat out, Tom. Maybe you two should try to get along."

Alas, nothing Tom said could convince Harry otherwise.

It was going to be the death of him. Death by blue balls, cockblocked by a cat.

 

The thing is, Tom did get along with the cat.

He took no issue with petting, feeding, carrying, playing or helping him catch bugs. In every other situation the cat seemed to love Tom, only ditching him for the clearly superior human that was Harry, when he was in close proximity.

To say that Tom was confused by the cat's behavior would be an understatement.

Until Harry got trapped in the elevator.

 

There was a power outage caused by the storm raging outside.

Tom had heard the banging completely on accident. He was bringing Mr Snuffles down to McGonagall's apartment, who had his emergency medication on hand when Harry wasn't home.

The banging was loud and clear, and coming from the metal doors down the hallway.

Tom did mental calculations. The power had been out for at least an hour.

He hurried down the hall, cat still in his grip, flashlight in the other.

When he was finally by the doors he could hear the muffled breathing on the other side, panicked and short and wet, as if the person had been crying.

"Hello?"

The banging suddenly stopped, the only sound coming from the thunder and the rain hitting the sides of the building.

When no audible answer came from inside, he insisted.

"Is anyone there?"

"Tom?" Harry. That was Harry inside the elevator. Harry, who had been there for at least an hour. He dropped the cat. Dropped himself to the ground. "Tom!?"

"I'm here, love. Are you okay?" As he spoke, his mind jumped in at least ten different directions. How to get him out? He hadn't been there long enough to need medical attention, by his count. He would be distressed, no doubt. Would the elevator be stuck mid floor? Was it this floor? Above, below?

"I'm–" the panicked breathing picked up. "Can you get me out?"

"Yes. Yes, darling you need only–"

"It's dark." Harry sobbed out, voice small and scared. It broke something so deep in him, he had to breathe to calm himself. To think logically.

"Harry." He kept his voice steady, and left the flashlight by his side on the ground. "Harry, there should be a little lever on the right side of the doors, bellow all the floor numbers. Do you see it, love?"

There was a hum from the other side, but no spoken answer.

"Push it down, Harry. It should decompress the doors of the inside." 

"Okay. Nothing happened."

"It wasn't supposed to. You'll be able to open the doors now, love. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah."

The sound of metal moving against metal ran in his ears.

"Harry, listen. Is the elevator on this floor? Is it stuck in the middle?"

"I don't know." Came the small reply. Tom's gears slowed to a halt.

"How can you now know? You should be able to see–"

"It's dark." He said again, and it finally dawned on Tom.

He cursed under his breath.

"Okay." He took another deep breath for good measure. "Harry, listen to me."

"Okay?" He was still sniffing lowdly. Tom could imagine the tears running down his face, his small body pushed to one side and sitting all alone in the darkness.

"I need to go to the first floor, to the maintenance room–"

"No, no, nonono–" Harry sobbed out, no air getting in his lungs.

"Harry! Love, my love you need to breathe." No answer. "Harry?"

The cat at his side meowed loudly. Tom started, having forgotten it was there.

"Tom?" the small voice at the other side of the doors asked.

"I'm here. And Mr Snuffles is here too." He paused, considering. "It'll be five minutes love, I promise. I need the key to open the doors from the outside. Snuffles will keep you company.

Moments dragged by, Snuffles still chittering and chatting away at the metal doors. At Harry.

"Okay." And that was all Tom needed before grabbing the flashlight and booking it to the stairs. He didn't think he'd ever ran so fast in his life as he did now. By the time he made it to the maintenance room he hadn't even considered the possibility that it would be closed shut with lock and key. It didn't much matter in the end, as he used the flashlight to break the glass window and open the door from the inside, frantic eyes searching for the correct keys to open the elevator doors.

Once he found them, he ran back the way he came, not even bothering to stop a single moment before making it to their floor, no air in his lungs and thighs burning.

His hands trembled from the lack of oxygen as he tried to insert the key into it's hole.

The cat was still lowdly screaming at Harry, looking at Tom with judgemental eyes, as if wondering what had taken him so long.

When he finally got the doors open, Harry fell on his arms and sobbed so hard he was worried he would pass out.

A couple minutes went by, with Tom rubbing Harry's back, big hands leaving a trail of warmth from the expanse of his shoulder blades down to his hips. Their breathing synchronized, chests pressed together where Harry was sat on top of him, face on the crook of his neck.

Finally, he spoke.

"I wanna go home."

"Okay." He took Harry in his arms, slowly walking them back to 7B. He took his keys out, where he had a copy of Harry's apartment door just in case, and made it inside. Mr Snuffles followed them in, chittering and thrilling.

He wrapped Harry in as many blankets as he would allow, before laying them both on the bed, stacked one on top of the other. When they settled, Mr Snuffles stacked himself on top of them too, purring away.

"I don't like the dark" Harry said, what seemed like hours later. "I don't like small spaces either."

Tom hummed in response, fingers carding through his curls and nails digging lighly in his scalp.

When Harry lifted his head up to look into Tom's blue eyes, he caught his lips with his and kissed him like a man possessed.

He tasted salty, of tears.

The cat purred on.

Someone tried to kick the cat out of the building. Literally.

A girl with fiery red hair had watched on, horrified. She had instantly taken to screaming about it in the building's group chat.

12D: someone tried to kill snuffles

The flood of responses was expected. The private message plotting murder that slid in her dm's was not.

They demanded a physical description, whether or not the person had been standing within view of the security camaras and most importantly: did Ginny know this person? The floor where they lived? What had they done to poor Mr Snuffles?

Ginny feared for their safety.

Good.

The next day a message had been stuck with tape in the mirror of the elevator.

There was a picture of a balding blond old man with a ratty trench coat bent over and hand reaching for the orange cat at the man's feet. Bellow the picture, a message (more than a message, a promise).

'13 A hurt the cat again and I'll smash your head in'

Huh. So they did find out where the man lived.

Ginny posed and took a picture of the paper to send to the group chat, in case no one else had seen it.

When Tom saw the new notification on the group chat, he cast a long glance at his boyfriend. 

Harry had taken the printer out of storage last night.

[catsafarithewriter]

A/n: so I maaaaay have caught covid or something akin to it at the start of the month, hence my recent silence. I'm still snuffling, but can just about put words on a page.

X

"See, the secret that nobody wants to tell you is that there's no future in archaeology," Muta announced to (whom he hoped was an easily-impressable) Hunter. It'd been rather impressive, the speed at which he'd secured a seat next to the budding archaeologist, quite securely abandoning his 'niece' in favour of more business-minded pastures. "Why would there be any future; it's all in the past! You find something good, and then what happens? Some hat-wearing, whip-lassoing professor tells you it belongs in a museum–"

"Archaeological finds do belong in a museum, Mr Muta," Hunter said.

"So they do," Muta course-corrected easily, "and call me Uncle Muta, please. We are family, after all. But I'm thinking of your future, lad. Give those museums a chance and they'll turn you into their glorified delivery Cat, when it's obvious you could do so much more–"

"I do hope," Toto said from his prime spot of opposite Muta, "that you're not trying to get my nephew involved in dealing on the black market."

Muta visibly bristled. "Everything I sell is properly accredited. Properly got."

"Nothing falls off the back of a museum wagon?" Toto asked.

"Do yer know how much stuff gets passed through museum paws before some Cat decides it's not up to snuff and drops it back in the donatee's paws?" Muta demanded. "All I'm saying to your sensibly-minded nephew is that some Cats would appreciate being given a heads up when that happens."

"And some Cats would call that taking advantage of one's connections."

"Not all Cats marry into their connections, von Gikkingen–" Muta shot back.

"It's Morrigan," Toto amended, "and it was my sister who married into the family, not me."

"Some of us have ter make our own connections the good ol' fashioned way: charisma."

"You? Charismatic?"

"It's worked before! You've seen it!"

"That Cat at the Royal Gardens does not count–"

"Aha! So you know what I'm talking about!"

"I saw your attempt–"

"Which worked."

"–if you can call it that."

"I don't remember you complaining at the time."

"You could, though," piped up Hunter, and this was the point Muta realised he'd almost forgotten his mark. Muta blinked, and tried to fit the archaeologists remark into anything approaching contextual sense, but thankfully Hunter continued with, "Marry into your connections, Uncle Muta."

Muta snorted. "Right. Got any single Cats of middling age in your family?"

Hunter grinned. "There's Uncle Toto."

[lalablueprose]

Oracle

“It will happen,” I said.

“Yes, but how are you saying it will happen?” Lenard said.

This was the problem with people; I gave them a short answer, and all they wanted was details. Details that would inevitably shift the way they saw things until a perfectly good future turned into a tragic mess.

I debated with myself.

Not with whether or not to tell him. My rear end-slowly freezing off as I sat on this bench showed my decision on that. Only on how to tell him in a way that wouldn’t destroy either of our lives. That was the question.

The stupid bench was sharp too, while the cold sun shone down on us. Both treating the knowledge of heat as a delusion. He sat next to me, in a nice shirt and suit that would have caused anyone I knew to itch. A neat-looking man who was 33 years old with a birthday coming in a month.

“When red falls on well-tread path, what you desire will be within your grasp.”

There. A perfectly cryptic way to describe a scarf falling upon the sidewalk outside his workplace. 

He looked at me, unamused.

I shrugged. I could give some bogus about “the visions not being clear” but that would be a disservice to both of us.

“It’s all I can say,” is what I said instead.

“I guess I’ll keep an eye out for red,” he said, half-believing. “Thanks for the fortune, I guess? Don’t worry about the change.”

He shoved a dollar bill in my direction. I hadn’t asked for any money. I definitely looked fit for handouts with my hole-ridden sweaters. None of my attempts to lift myself from hobo to grunge ever worked.

I looked down and saw ten bucks. I couldn’t afford a new sweater with this, let alone a new coat or shoes.

It was probably better this way.

It’s worse when they are true believers. Then every word spoken carried the weight to break bones. Just showing up and proclaiming to know the future becomes an event in most people’s heads, and that was enough.

Of course, it could always be the opposite of what I wanted. Even I don’t know everything.

He was already out of sight when I looked back up. Tragic, he missed all my inane conversation attempts.

Lenard Juilliard Belle was a nice enough guy who spent all his time at his job in the bank. The only reason he listened to me at all was that he was worried about marriage, and proclaiming to know the future had left an impression on him. It was the typical crisis: not being married when most of your peers found their spouse at college, or work, or what have you. If he had any sense, he wouldn’t have bothered hearing me out.  

Lenard’s future was perfectly bright. Honestly, he just had to wait until he met Eliza Atticus Greene. Specifically, when she lost her scarf, so he would pick it up for her outside the bank on his coffee break at 3:02 P.M. on one June 8th.

They would have two kids and live in a marvelous house on Faison Road with two floors, a basement, pool, and one cat they’d pick up named Mr. Snuffles. Minus the cat, it was such a picture perfect life. I almost wanted one of my own.

If I had given Mr. Belle too much, like a description of the woman, he would have idly kept a lookout for women that looked like Eliza, and ended up with Kaitlyn. A lovely woman whose erratic sleeping habits, combined with her love of buying used furniture in their much smaller house due to a smaller income, would cause him to divorce her after three years.

If I told her Eliza’s name directly, he would, of course, not believe me. But he would casually look her up on Facebook, and casually go through the list of women with her name until he found one he liked best. Shockingly, he would actually find her. Not that she would appreciate this stranger trying to meet her. Even going through a mutual acquaintance wouldn’t be enough to save him. Just a tad too much intensity to turn her off. He wouldn’t get a second date.

If I had them meet through various other ways, each one led to a different ending for their relationship. Some were good, and some were very bad. Distracted driving never ended well, and despite romantic dramatizations, enemies don’t easily turn into lovers. Most often they became ignored acquaintances.

The worst part is they would have met anyways. It was part of her daily ritual to get a coffee from the coffee shop by the bank. And they did both recognize a few fellow faces. This was one of the most minor fortune tellings I’d probably ever do.

But what could I do?

As a 22-year-old jobless freak woken up countless times in a cold sweat to Eliza’s son beating the crap out of my favorite nephew I’d only met in visions of the future, there wasn’t much. I’d tried to ignore it. At least let the favored nephew be born and all that. But inner peace and sleep completely evaded me, unlike the usual only mostly. And all of this because of Lenard’s nasty divorce, in turn caused by him having stray eyes with a random woman he met, because he thought she might be “the one.”

Sure, I could nudge him into marrying Kaitlyn, but why would I ruin their perfect future when it was kept with such an easy seal? A few words to make him trust and believe.

Hopefully, tonight I’d sleep. At least the ten would work for a warm coffee. I got up, hoping for a warmer day after tomorrow, because I knew tomorrow would reach 47 degrees Fahrenheit at most.

[rayvern-sheep]

Wuh… why do ppl care so much abt their pet’s balls..? Like… I’m just tryna watch a video of an absolute unit of a cat and most of the comments are talking about how nice it is to see a cat with balls cos they’re so much better and bigger and beefier and- -gags- sorry the way these ppl were talking abt neutering male cats make it sound like it’s their balls that get cut off.

They will literally lie about how a male cat is healthier intact.. when they’re fucking not. Acting like it’s the scary evil vets who want money. And it has nothing to do with the aggressive behaviour that intact males can exhibit, or maybe that they’re obsessed with territory marking (cat spray is strong.. and does not wash out of furniture) and reproducing and fighting. Not only that, but as someone who is taking testosterone and knows the risk of having it be the dominant sex hormone in your body, it does in fact shorten your lifespan lmao. It affects your heart and puts you at a higher risk for heart problems. That muscle and shit you get to have from T? Yeah, well it has a trade-off. That muscular unit of a cat is no healthier than the fat cats you were insulting. They both have high risk of heart problems, and they’re both that way because of the laziness of their owners. At least sometimes those fat cats have a condition that makes them that way and can not be helped. You getting that cat, not neutering it, and then letting it fucking free roam?! That’s all on you buddy. You have now made it everyone else’s problem that you love animal balls too much.

These ppl who get upset about neutering male animals could not give less of a shit about the spaying of female animals…. It’s fascinating…. Why does your fragile masculinity pass over to your animal, the thing that does not have a concept of gender and couldn’t care less whether it has balls or not. The reason we don’t castrate men left and right, Mister Fragile Masculinity, is that men tie their manhood to well… their “manhood” (dick and balls). Mr Snuffles the little kitty cat there, couldn’t give less of a fuck. He’s just happy to get food and have somewhere nice to sleep. My cat did not magically become obese when he was neutered. He’s always been a skinny little man, and that’s just how he is. You know how some men are just naturally more predisposed to be muscular or fat or skinny or whatever the fuck? Yeah.. well that’s the case for animals.

Neuter and spay your fucking cats, ESPECIALLY, if you’re gonna let’s them free roam. Or else I’m kidnapping them and fucking taking them to the vet myself. We’re not even gonna go into the idea of free-roaming cats right now, cos its 9am and I haven’t even had my breakfast yet. But the short version: if you can’t afford the time and effort of keeping an indoor cat, don’t fucking get one. You wouldn’t get a dog if you didn’t have the time to take it on walks. Stop treating cats like the easy option of pet. Your cat will love a longer and happier life neatened/spayed and indoors. No “catio” needed, so don’t come at me with “not everyone can afford an enclosed outdoor space” My boy will sit on a windowsill and be happy to watch the goings on. You’re just making up excuses now. Outdoor cats have a shorter and more stressful life, and love to kill animals for fun. They do no hunt to eat, it is not natural for cats to roam on every street and kill the natural wildlife. That… was the short version…

Anyway, I’m hangry. And I need to stop looking at ALL comments on YouTube, even on random short videos of cats apparently.

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

There's no way, no way, Bruce didn’t use his bat-skills to break in to comfort his baby when he heard him crying (the Drake nannies (there are three, none of them are full time and there are huge gaps between their schedules but there’s nothing they can do) know he comes, but keep their mouths shut because at least someone’s watching out for that little boy.)

Part of Bruce wants to wait this out, call CPS when he’s sure they’ll see his health is worsening, and then swoop back in so he can have him back home again, but he can't do that to Tim, can’t be another person who let him suffer for their cause. Then, when the Drakes leave for yet another trip without him, Bruce pays the nannies off to let him take care of Tim, bringing a four-year-old Jason to meet his baby brother. (Jason swears on his life that he’ll keep this kid safe, one way or another, just watch him.) It gets harder when Tim learns to talk, but luckily(?) this is a boy born with the word secret engraved to the bottom of his tongue and he keeps this one like a teddy bear to cling to when things get hard with the Drakes. (one time Mr. Drake yelled and stomped a bit too loud at a Gala and Tim went running across the room to his Baba, his B. (Jason kicked Mr. Drake in the crotch for that, something he only sort of regretted when they had to go home early because of it.)

Then the Drakes die, Bruce is 90% sure Two-Face had something to do with it, and he’s not sure whether to tell him off or invite him to bed. But he’s terrified of what to tell Tim. How do you comfort a child almost definitely mourning his parents when they were people you so openly despised? Still, Tim does come home, all of five years old and newly orphaned and he seems... Jubilent. Even Jason has questions and his father was the worst. Is that what an extra year of maturity does to you? At first, Bruce thinks it's because Tim doesn't understand that they're dead. He says he’s just happy he can be with his family all the time besides school. Then one day one of the cats that come and go from the manor passes away. She was old, with black fur more specked with white than the clearest night sky, and Tim is inconsolable.

“You know,” Bruce said, uncertain of his own words, “ Jack and Janet are like that too.”

“Like what?” Tim snuffles.

“Dead.”

“I know, but I don't love them, I love you. You mourn people who you love.”

The little boy says it with a certainty that almost doesn't allow for argument. Bruce is tempted to let it drop, help Tim bury the poor cat in the roses, and give her the best eulogy he can before Alfred calls them to dinner, washing grave dirt from under too-small nails. But there are matters which need to be closed.

“You can love them too if you want to. Dick still loves his parents even though he loves me. I won't be mad or think less of you if you do.”

”Why would I want to?” Tim spits out bitterly, “Jack and Janet sucked.”

Bruce nodded.



“True,” he wasn’t going to correct the boy when he was objectively correct, “ but other people loved them, and we can feel sad on their behalf.”

“Who, their investors?” Tim scoffed.

“How about this; there were two people, and now they will never get an opportunity not to suck. They will always just be your sucky birth parents and they’ll never lean how wrong they were to mistreat you.”

“Oh, that is sad”

Tim’s eyes welled back up. They ended up burying the cat by the old well instead of the roses and the boy cried the whole time. Dinner was vegetable stew and homemade rolls. Bruce held Harvey’s hand the whole time.

So I recently learned Harvey and Jason's dad had BEEF and Harvey killed him apparently??? Okay. So. I propose we all imagine this:

You're Jason Todd. You're 4 years old.

You know, because the only reading material you have is your birth certificate. A copy of it, wilted by dry ink. You're always hungry. You get food sometimes, but no hugs, no kisses, no soft words. You're still hungry.

Your father only touches you with his belt or shoe or anything else he can grab and a small crumble of you welcomes it because it's better than nothing.

You're Jason todd, age 4, and you haven't seen your mother get up from the tub for 3 weeks. You try to shake her and wake her up but nothing worse. Your father takes his shower and doesn't care.

You're Jason Todd and you hear a voice -- gruff and thick but smooth and raspy, " Jesus fuckin' christ, Todd."

" I'm tellin' you I don't got the money. It ain't my fault that whore of yours left you and you're In a bad mood--"

You're Jason todd, hiding in a closet, when you hear the terryfing sound of your father being quiet for once. For once, he doesn't yell. For once, there's peace in your house. Gun smoke and all.

You're Jason Todd, age 4, when you meet Two Face. He's scary. He says he's gonna take you somewhere, and for you that's a Boogeyman's promise, so you trash and you scream and you yell, and he just holds you tight.

You hold back; He's big and warm and could crush you in paste, but he doesn't. He just rocks you and shushes you and promises he'll take you somewhere you'll like. He doesn't tell you to stop crying.

You do anyway, because you're 4, and you're tired, and you haven't had your nap all day because you were doing chores.

You're Jason Todd and you meet Bruce Wayne at 3 o clock in the morning.

He's tired; those dark clouds under his eyes indicate he hasn't slept, there's a hollowness to his sharp cheekbones, and he looks nothing like does on TV.

He doesn't look dazzling, or glamours, or dashing. He looks like someone whose adopted baby got taken back by their neglectful, dog shit parents, and he's never been more devoured by misery than then.

" harv..."

" thought you might know what to do with him," harvey shrugs, still keeping a tight hold on you, like he might lose you too, and you tremble and cry when you're moved away.

You don't make noise, thought. Making noise always gets you in bigger trouble. Bruce Wayne holds you like you're the most precious thing in the whole wide world.

He holds you're made of love and light and all things right.

And you still cry in his arms, because you just want your mommy, and you want to nap, and you want to read and you want to be kissed and hugged and cuddled you want everything you never got.

" Oh, Jason. Oh, sweetheart. "

You're Jason Todd, age 5, because today's your birthday. You spend the first 10 minutes of it sleeping gentle and teary in Bruce's arms, while another pair holds you both.

You're Jason Todd, and you might be the reason Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent start talking again.

[toontykes]

Happy New Years from the Tykes!