#uncle leon

It was too damn hot to wear a bra. So that’s how Uncle Leon found her, hours later, after he returned from whatever it was that he did out and about sometimes; lounging on the couch in her gym shorts from P.E., a soft, loose white crop-top that felt like it should be the coolest thing she owned but still somehow wasn’t cool enough, because Grace could still feel sweat beading in the crevice beneath her breasts. She’d kicked her calves over the back of his couch to keep her laptop nestled at a decent typing position on her lap; someone was being wrong on the internet, and she was had to set them straight. God. Did anyone even bother thinking before they posted? Fucking trolls. “Hey, Uncle Leon.” “Still not your uncle, kid,” he replied from somewhere near the door. Still taking his shoes off, she guessed. “You can just call me Leon, you know.” “I’ll call you Leon when you stop called me a kid,” she tossed back, annoyed. Didn’t pause her typing; her word count ticked over into the five-hundreds mark. A plastic bag rustled—alcohol run, she corrected, mildly interested despite herself. She hadn’t yet mustered up the courage to ask for a sip of whiskey, but it was on her to-do list this week. His head appeared over the rim of her laptop’s screen. Grace’s gaze flickered over to look at him briefly—he didn’t look hungover, so that was good; she’d spent all evening yesterday huddled up in her room watching anime, so she hadn’t paid any attention to what he was up to. She’d already found a pattern—if she stayed up with him, she wouldn’t find him on the couch the next morning. Uncle Leon’s attention lingered on her laptop for a moment too long, eyes dark and eyebrows pinched; her shoulders tightened as Grace burrowed herself back into the couch, embarrassed, suddenly, though for what she couldn’t say. There weren’t even any stickers on it! “Feet off my couch,” he said, smacking her foot lightly with the back of his hand as he walked past her, voice a little clipped. She had a feeling it wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Like he’d intended to say something else, but had thought better of it last minute.

it's coming dawg 😭🤌 it's already 3k and gonna be a fat one I think!

Stuffed animal pet show

9th Annual Stuffed Animal Pet Show Children's Librarian Diane Edgerton, St Bernard, with four participants

[Programs1990s_0012a.jpg]

Library History

The two flat boxes were fairly big–stood on their sides, they were comparable in height to their wee recipients, addressed by hand in flowing golden calligraphy to Sean and Fib. Inside each box was a three-piece set of leather armor (breastplate, bracers and boots), flexible but sturdy. Each piece was dyed a bright red and decorated in glittering golden dragon accents all about, in the middle of the chest, wriggling along seams, and on every button. The maker’s mark was a simplified crow’s footprint alongside a thin crescent moon.

The letter with those boxes reads:

“To House Akh'Argar*,

"The timing worked in your favor, though I’m not sure if the couriers will arrive before the day. If they don’t, please extend my deepest apologies to the wee lord and lady. It was sending it now, or sending it a week or more later when the greaves were done. The first set suffered a bit of an accident involving a cabinet falling off the wall. Let me know if they manage to destroy it in less than a month. It should be pretty tough since it’s clefthoof, but kids can find a way to wreck almost anything if they’re sufficiently determined.

"Happy birthday to them both! If I don’t get to see it in person, I hope you’ll send pictures of the wee warriors in full kit.

”- Leon

“*I really hope I spelled that right!”

Another much smaller box arrived with the first two, though it was still a bit longer than a man’s forearm. The accompanying letter declared this one to belong to “Coda,” and was much shorter.

“Of course, I didn’t forget you.

"Happy father’s day.

”-Cailleach"