I need you to look at my senior dogs reaction to my sisters puppy:

Him: hey what the heck is that????

Cause they are in my head, here are some dumb headcanons for Shirou raising little kid Michiru and Nazuna

Nazuna was the type of kid who always has to be around her parent so she would just follow Shirou around and sometimes hold onto his tail

Michiru on the other hand would always run off and keep nearly killing herself but had little kid durability

Michiru was straight-up indestructible

Shirou is just talking to Rose or some other serious company while Naz is just sitting in his lap weaving together flowers Shirou helped her pick. Nazuna just turns around in Shirou's lap and puts a newly made flower crown on his head before going back to fiddling with flowers. Shirou gives a little "thank you" and a nod without blinking and instantly goes back to his conversation

Marie made a little thing of finding every way to scare little Michi and Naz but to Shirou's bewilderment kept them liking her

The girls would call Rose "Granny"

Shirou would watch Bluey with the girls and quietly take mental notes from Bandit and Chili

Shirou regularly asked himself "What would Bandit and Chili do in this situation?" when raising the girls

Michiru would sometimes hide stuff from guests if she liked them since it meant they got to stay for longer

When they first met Alan Michiru brought him his bag and shoes as soon as he even hinted at leaving

Michiru was incredibly bitey as a pup and would chew on anything so Shirou had to find a million lifehacks to keep her from chewing on important things

Shiro would give Michiru frozen bagels to chew on

Shirou was so worried about Michiru's teeth cause she kept biting things

It was incredibly hard to teach the girls to properly shapeshift since Michi hated being in her human form and Naz would feed off her stubbornness

There is an ongoing debate on which of the girls is older

No one besides Shirou knows where either of the girls came from, Shirou just was suddenly buying supplies for two six-year-olds and posting photos of them on his unused social media accounts

It took like a solid three years before Shirou started calling them his daughters and would instead find every other term possible

Shirou does not have a response for where the mother is

Shirou took single-dad classes to learn how to take care of the girls' hair

When the girls' powers came in Shirou was so lost

Michiru kept throwing herself off stuff to try and fly with her new wings

One time Nazuna stretched out her arms and couldn't turn them back so she cried till she threw up

If left unattended Nazuna would get into the pantry and eat the weirdest things like whole jars of peanut butter, flour, or vinegar

Nazuna's tail would always be dirty cause she had a habit of dragging it behind her and Shirou could never get her to walk with her tail up

Michiru would eat and chew on weird plants in the garden

Shirou's closet is just filled with photos of Michiru's little league basketball games and Nazuna's children's theater performances

Nazuna and Michiru would play the most disturbed games with their toys

One time in elementary school a kid tried to bully Nazuna and Michiru bit them till she tasted blood. Shirou's only response was "Good."

Nazuna would try to crack open rocks to try and find gems

Michiru would bring Nazuna as many rocks as she could carry while they looked for gemstones

Shirou has a box where he keeps all the cool rocks his kids bring him

No one knows the girls' birthdays so they just have one "Super Birthday" once a year for both of them

Multiple times there were issues where people thought the girls weren't Shirou's since he's a big scary man with kids that look nothing like him

All of Michi and Naz's friends' parents trusted their kids with Shirou since they both knew he wouldn't hurt them but also that he wouldn't let a single bad thing happen to them

The girls became incredibly good at stealing shit out of Marie's bag partially just to mess with her

People keep saying Michiru needs to be tested for ADHD or Autism. Shirou has yet to do this. People also think he should be tested

Michiru was the type of kid to come inside after playing outside with her pockets either full of cool rocks and dirt or small animals

Aanleggen - Ikevamp (Theo)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: MC x Theo Summary: A short illustrated birthday fic for the birthday boy! The incomparable, amazing, talented and lovely @nan-chi​ and I wanted to do something to commemorate the younger van Gogh, and this is the result! 1500 words of fluff and fantastic art!

~~~~~~

There were few things Theo hated more than secrets.

His own - those were fine. But the secrets of others always unsettled him, even as he recognized the hypocrisy of this. And the secrets of Vincent…

Now that was an irritation of a new sort.

Stewing on this, Theo lifted a bite from the syrup-sogged stack before him and chewed, his eyes never leaving the two heads huddled together at one end of the table.

“Kinda cute, aren’t they?” Arthur slung himself into the seat beside Theo, newspaper slapping atop the table as he gestured in the direction of the two with his coffee cup. “The lovebirds,” he explained to Theo’s arched brow.

“The what?” The bite in his mouth turned suddenly and inexplicably dry. “That’s it. You’ve finally lost what little sense you were born with.”

Arthur, studying his face, let the smirk he’d been fighting finally win. “Don’t believe me?” He leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief and his voice pitched low. “I’ve seen her go into his room at least two nights a week the entire past month.”

“At night?”

Arthur nodded, once. Meaningfully. “Late.”

The only answer he could scrape together was a carefully uninterested grunt, turning his attention back to the plate before him. But the pancakes he’d already eaten congealed heavily in his stomach, like wet concrete, and he busied himself with straightening the napkin laid beside his place setting.

How had he missed that?

He wasn’t sure what bothered him more - the fact that he had? The fact that Vincent had taken a lover? Or the fact that...

...The fact that it was her.

He pulled the feeling out, turning it over and over, before realizing it stung. Like saltwater, lapping over an open wound.

It hurt.

But that was alright. Hurt, he could handle. It was a familiar, old friend. From split knuckles to bruises, from the envy-whittled darts that had struck true before his skin had thickened to the regrets that kept him up some nights. He was no stranger to pain.

This too, would pass.

------

But like a dog with a rabbit in its jaws, Arthur’s words wouldn't let him go.

He stood and stared at the wooden panels of her door, as if the answer lay somewhere in the swirls and whorls of woodgrain, before lifting his hand to knock.

"Hondje? You in there?"

There was no answer for a moment, but he could hear the faint rustling of someone moving around on the other side. "Theo?"

"Yeah, look, I -" He jammed his hands in his pockets, a rush of restlessness washing over him. He wasn't sure he'd ever looked forward to and dreaded a conversation so much. "You got a minute?"

"Oh! I….yes, just…" Her voice was pitched a half-octave higher suddenly, shrill with something like panic that set him on edge - especially when he could hear her bustling around. "Hold on. One second. I'm -"

Her words dissolved into a small shriek, as he heard a heavy thud from the other side, and decorum took a backseat to concern as he pushed the door open in a rush. "Hondje?! You okay?"

His gaze darted about. Same pink frilly room, spotlessly organized. Nothing out of order save for the easel in one corner and a canvas, now face down on the floor and her standing over it, dropcloth still in her wringing hands as she looked up at him guiltily.

He blinked at it a moment, heart twisting like a gibbet in his chest. A painting from Vincent? One he hadn't seen either?

He brushed off the fresh handful of salt on the wound, and plastered a smirk on his face. "Dropped your toy, Hondje."

"No, that's-!" She cried in dismay, as he reached to lift it back onto its easel. "You weren't supposed to see it yet."

He frowned, taking in the way her entire body seemed to droop. If she were a pup in truth, her tail would be hanging between her legs at that moment. 

“Why?” He bit back the bitter words that tried to follow. “Something secret between you and Vincent?”

He forced a chuckle then, although it scraped raw in his throat like sandpaper. “I was kinda hoping you guys would have told me yourselves about this but…” he began, as he lifted the piece back into place on its easel.

And then the rest of his comment died away, as he got a look at the painting. He knew immediately it wasn’t one of Vincent’s works - the brushstrokes were all wrong. Clumsy, perhaps a bit, but Vincent’s influence was there in the texture and colors. 

And it was -

He blinked, bemused. “Is this...King?”

“Yeah. Or well, it’s supposed to be, but I guess it obviously is if you could recognize it. Although I know the anatomy needs some work and the shading - golden fur is hard to get just right, and he wouldn’t hold still. I must have sketched him twenty times, I don't know how people work without photographs for reference." She was babbling, and he recognized the nerves eating at her in the way she worked the cloth between her hands over and over. “You weren’t supposed to see it until tonight though, after your birthday dinner.”

An awful, magnificent understanding dawned on him. “Did Vincent help you with this?”

“Yes, I...used to draw and paint a little back home, just as a hobby you know. And when Vincent reminded me it was your birthday soon, I couldn’t think of what to get you.” He watched with keen interest as a blush rose charmingly on her cheeks, spreading nearly to her neck as she went on. “But I know you love art, and you love King…so I thought maybe you’d forgive bad art if it was a subject you liked so much.”

"This is what you’ve been doing in his room the past few weeks?" A breathless sort of anticipation made itself at home, in the confines of his chest, as he asked the question he hoped he already knew the answer to.

She nodded, opening her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.

"So you and Vincent aren't lovers."

"What?" She squeaked, her eyes flown wide with dismay. "No! Vincent and I? Why would I...I mean I can see why…" She trailed off, then found her footing again. "But no. Definitely not. I…"

She fumbled to a halt again, her eyes sliding up to meet his before bouncing away, and he wondered if he was imagining the way her blush shaded from crimson to carmine.

"I see." He took a step closer, watching with amusement as she took a wary, answering one back. More rabbit than pup in this moment. He took pity on her, and turned to look over the painting. "Let's see this closer then."

He made a show of pulling his ever-present magnifying lens from a pocket, bending to examine the work up close. His initial assessment had been right - sloppy strokes, the color muddied in a few places, the perspective just faintly off. And yet…

And yet...the warmth squeezing in his heart whispered what he already knew. It was the best painting he'd ever seen, flaws and all. 

Because it was hers.

Because she'd made it for him.

He straightened, clearing the sentimental knot from his throat. "Your composition could use some work. The shading, too. But…" A smile ghosted across his lips, as he reached out to tousle her hair gently. "It's a good painting. You've got some talent, hondje."

"You like it?" Her mouth rounded into a surprised o, and he had to stifle the urge to shout how much he loved it.

"Yeah. It's not bad, not bad at all." He smirked at her. "Although King elevates any scene, right? And you clearly have a good teacher."

“The best,” she agreed. 

His hand was still atop her head, fingers snared in the soft strands of her hair as he looked down at her. Suddenly and acutely aware of the small space between them and the upturned tilt of her face - her pretty mouth just begging to be sampled.

It was his birthday. Maybe he would be forgiven for wanting to give himself one gift.

“I like it. A lot.” He murmured, and that fetching blush rose on her cheeks again. “But I can think of something else I’d like for my birthday too.”

“You can?” She frowned, her lips pursing adorable. “What?”

And that little moue was all the impetus he needed to lean down and cover her lips with his, swallowing down her small sound of surprise. His arms coming around her body as she stiffened, only to feel her melting against him moments later.

“Happy Birthday, Theo,” she managed, when he’d drawn back to take a breath. Her fingers still clutching at his sleeves and her eyes alight with something he flattered himself was happiness. 

“Yeah.” He didn’t bother trying to smother his grin, just before ducking down to steal her lips again, stoking the slow blaze of a fire he knew would take all night - if not a lifetime - to burn itself out. “Yeah. It is now, isn’t it?”

~~~~~~

Thank you once again to @nan-chi​ for being an absolute delight of a person - it was a pleasure and an honor to work with you! <3 I hope you all enjoyed our humble offerings to this sweet man!

Little Magnum

Anon requested the idea of adopting a puppy with Jim Hopper and who am I to say no to something so fluffy and adorable? Major help was provided by chiefharbour here on Tumblr, plus harboursouce and hideloveaway on Instagram.  

1.9k words of self-indulgent silliness and mentions of other ST characters. 

Your friend’s dog escaped from her yard about 5 months ago and had herself a wild night on the town, getting pregnant with a litter of mixed-breed puppies. Most of them had been given out to different families but there was one pup left, a little boy with white patches on his honey-colored fur. El had subtly mentioned to you that she’d never had a pet before and you wanted so badly to get her one, as it would make her time alone at the cabin a lot less boring and isolating. There was just one last obstacle and his name was Jim Hopper.

Since he speaks very little about his childhood, you had no idea if Hopper ever had a dog before, or even any type of pet at all. Based upon the little he has told you, it was easy to assume that if he ever had a dog, it was strictly for hunting and probably slept outside or in a shed. That’s not the way you grew up though. You’ve always had pets and they’ve always been like family to you. You knew it was going to be hard to sell him on the idea of getting a puppy, but that’s why you had your strategy well planned out. All you had to do was tell Hop that the two of you were going to visit a friend of yours and once he saw the dog himself, he wouldn’t need much convincing.

On a Friday after work, he picked you up and drove you over to Jill’s house. As Hopper entered her living room, his eyes immediately went to the dog. He walked over to it and crouched down onto one knee. “What’s up, little guy?” he said, letting it smell his hand before he pet it. The puppy lavished the back of his hand with endless licks, causing Hopper to chuckle. This was easily the happiest you’d seen him in weeks, if not months. Within the first thirty seconds of him interacting with the dog, you could already sense a connection being made. He talked to it in a tone of voice that you’d never heard before. “You got sharp little teeth, don’t ya, boy?” The puppy rolled onto it’s back and Hopper rubbed its belly. “Yes, you do! Yes, you do.” You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. This was the first time you’d ever seen him act this way.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” you asked. “Yeah, he’s adorable. How old is he?” “Nine weeks,” Jill answered. “You’re just a baby, huh?” Hopper cooed at the dog while you and Jill exchanged a knowing look. “The vet said that’s a perfect age for them to find a new home.” He didn’t react, he just kept playing with the puppy. “You hear that, Hop?” “Yeah...” he answered slowly.

All the humor and happiness drained from his face as he connected the dots. “No,” he replied simply. “What do you mean? ‘No’ what?” you feigned ignorance. “Absolutely not,” he continued with a stern expression. You glanced over at Jill on the couch as she drank her Tab and minded her own business.  

“Can you excuse us?’ Hopper asked in his most charming voice. “We’re just gonna go outside for a minute.” Jill nodded, “Sure thing, hon.” The two of you left and stood on her porch. Smiling up at him expectantly, you took one of his hands in yours. “We’re not getting a dog,” he told you flatly, “especially not a puppy.” Your shoulders drooped with disappointment. “Why not?” you whined. “Because I said so,” he stated calmly. “That’s not fair,” you whined again.

“I don’t care if it’s fair. I work long hours, and when I get home, I need to be able to relax. I don’t have time to be chasing after a little dog, making sure it’s not chewing everything up.”

“Come on, Hop,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll take care of it. You’ll still be able to relax.” You held both of his hands in yours. “Dogs are a man’s best friend, remember? You can do some male bonding together. He’ll be like the son you never had.” Hopper rolled his eyes at you dramatically, knowing you were laying it on extra thick to persuade him.

“What about El? I’ve never seen her interact with a dog, what if she’s scared of them?” “She’s fine with it,” you said matter of factly. “What do you mean ‘she’s fine with it’? How do you know?” his voice went up with a tinge of anger. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we’re getting a dog. She just dropped a few hints to me before about not having a pet, so when Trixie got pregnant, I asked El what she thought about dogs and she told me she got along great with Will’s before it ran away.” You regretted saying those words as soon as they escaped your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to know that this was a setup.

Hopper took a step forward, his body closer to yours, his beautiful blue eyes glared down at you. “You little brat,” he scolded playfully, “you planned this all behind my back, didn’t you?” You pressed your top and bottom lips together tightly to suppress a smile. “You probably already have a name picked too.” You burst into a fit of giggles. “Magnum,” you declared. “Magnum,” he repeated with a chuckle and scrubbed his large hand over his face.

Determined and unfazed, you continued your pitch. “I wish you could have seen yourself in there. The way your face lit up. Can you imagine the look on El’s face if we bring home this puppy? Can you imagine how happy and surprised she’ll be?”

He gave a heavy sigh as a slow smile spread across his rugged features. “Alright,” Hopper said decisively. ”Let’s go back inside and get Magnum P-U-P.” You ignored his terrible dad joke like you often do. “Really? Are you sure?” you inquired as he opened the screen door. “I think my mind’s already been made up for me,” he replied. “You’re right. It has,” you stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek before you entered the house again.

As soon as the door opened, the dog ran to him and he scooped it up into his arms. “Guess what, little guy? You’re coming home with us.” The puppy licked Hopper’s face, almost appreciatively as if it understood what was going on. You couldn’t have been any happier if you tried. As the vigorous licking continued, he scrunched up his face. “Okay, that’s enough,” Hopper laughed then handed you the dog.

“I’m so glad you’re taking the little terror off my hands,” Jill joked as she gave half a bag of puppy food to Hop. He shot you a regretful look that you pretended to ignore. “We’re glad too, aren’t we?” you suggested and he rolled his eyes at you. “Yes,” he answered, his look of annoyance fading into a genuine smile. The three of you left in the Blazer and drove straight to the feed store to get a collar, leash, and new bag of puppy food.

In the month that has passed since then, things have been somewhat chaotic, with Magnum living up to his reputation as a terror. Every other word out of Hopper’s mouth seems to be “Magnum!” as he is constantly reprimanding the dog for something or other. Usually for tinkling in the house, as all puppies his age do. You’ve basically having to train them both; the dog to go outside, and Hop to take him out on the leash instead of letting him just roam around the woods by himself.

The puppy barks his tiny head off whenever Mike comes over, growling and even biting the boy if he tries to pet him. It’s the only bad behavior that Hopper actively encourages from the dog. Other than the unexplained animosity towards her boyfriend, El and Magnum get along swimmingly, with him being at his most calm when he’s around her, frequently sitting on her lap as they watch tv together. It’s probably because of the bacon you’ve caught her slipping to him during breakfast.

One of Magnum’s worst habits is that he’s a sock thief. Not just any socks though, they have to be Hopper’s. He ignores any that belong to you or El, as if he’s a sock connoisseur and those just aren’t up to snuff. You’ve found them hidden all over the cabin, though they’re most often under the bed or in between the couch cushions. While he is content with stealing them off the floor, his favorite method of theft is to take them directly off of Hopper’s feet. He bites the end and shakes his little head back and forth until they’re wiggled and yanked all the way off. Sometimes Hop gets mad, especially when the puppy accidentally nips his toes, but a lot of the time he allows it to happen because it’s just so stinking cute to watch.

For as much as Hopper complains about the dog, you know it’s just a facade. You keep finding empty bags of treats on the counter. On multiple occasions, you have arrived home to see that he’s been given a new chew toy. You’ve come across Polaroids not only of Magnum by himself, usually in those seemingly rare moments of slumber, but also of Hopper holding the puppy on his shoulder. The last time you were at the station, you caught him showing some of them to Flo as if they were baby pictures. The thing that truly cemented his love for the dog was the sight you discovered tonight.

You having to work on the weekend and El spending all day at the Wheeler’s house left Hop and Magnum alone by themselves. When your shift is over, you almost dread going back to the cabin, having no idea what type of disaster you’re going to be coming home to. As you unlock the front door, it’s eerily quiet inside, so quiet that it causes you to become concerned. There doesn’t appear to be any disaster at all when you walk in, which would be a relief if it wasn’t so far out of the ordinary.

“Hop?” you call out as you put your things down by the door. “Hopper?” you repeat a moment later and a bit louder when there’s no answer. A feeling of worry growing in your belly, you creep over to the bedroom and slowly move the curtain. Stealthily peeking your head inside, your mouth instantly curls into a smile. Sprawled on the bed is all six feet and three inches of Chief Jim Hopper snuggling with tiny little Magnum as they’re both fast asleep.

The sight not only puts your mind at ease but warms your heart. Up until now, Hopper hasn’t allowed Magnum to sleep on the bed, instead having him sleep on an area rug with a baby blanket on the floor. You almost want to take a picture, if not for your own sake, for the sake of hearing what Powell and Callahan would say. You refrain, however, knowing that the flash would likely disturb their rest. Instead, you slip into your pajamas and curl up in bed with your two favorite guys, feeling so grateful for the little family you have created.

Claimed per accident - Part 11 – Forgiveness

Summary: The Winchesters are your blessing and curse at the same time.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!John x Omega!Reader, Castiel

Warnings: angst, abo dynamics, scenting, true mates, language, tension, longing

A/N: For my fic, John made the deal to save Sam, not Dean. Castiel gripped John tied to raise him from perdition. Sam was soulless and Dean a demon. This is partially an AU.

Claimed per accident Masterlist 

While you check on all the stuff the brothers tossed into the bags you snicker as Dean seems to be more interested in the pie than the beer John puts into the fridge.

“Got an apple pie for you too, Sweetheart.” Humming you glance at the pie, as Dean gets a knife out to cut a slice for you. “I know you like apple more than cherry.”

“You only try to get more cherry pie, Dean.” While you talk about the best apple pie you ever ate and try to sort all the things the brothers bought John leans against the counter, watching you taste a piece of the apple pie.

“Not bad, but not my grannies. If I find the time between the try to not get killed and keeping three needy Alphas under control I will bake one. I still have my gran’s secret cookbook.”

Sniffling you rub your eyes. “It’s one of the few things I could take with me before I got kicked out.”

“I think all of us would like to taste a piece of your gran’s pie.” John rubs his chin, glancing at you as he tries to tell you what Castiel brought to the bunker for you.

“Castiel, he and Crowley stayed behind after we left, and our favorite angel said your father kept your stuff.”

“Why should he keep my old things? I don’t think my father wanted a reminder of the shitty daughter he kicked out of his life.” John’s features soften as he points toward Cas standing in the doorframe.

“Your father didn’t know that the neighbors, who helped him packing his belongings when he moved out, packed your things too. I read his mind and knew he does not know about it. A woman must’ve packed your things and she left a letter.” 

Taking the letter, you smile as you recognize the handwriting. “That’s Miriam’s handwriting. She was my friends’ mother. After my mom died, she became like a mom to me and I spent many nights and days at their house.” Unfolding the letter, you smile as at least one person did not judge you.

“Do you want to read it in private?” Glancing at the letter Castiel wants to leave but you shake your head. “We can give you some time on your own.”

“No. You brought this to me, Cas. Thank you.” Your fingers shake as you read the first lines.

Dear Y/N,

I hope one day you will be able to get your belongings. I know how much your diaries and the pictures of your mother mean to you. We hid the boxes on the attic when your father moved into the new house.

Your father wanted us to toss everything belonging to your away but Elize and I just could not do it. Whatever your father told us, I know things can be complicated between an Alpha and a young Omega.

My husband and I mated after knowing each other for not even a few hours. He claimed me and I became pregnant. I understand the struggle of being Omega too well, Y/N. Never let anyone tell you that you are not a good person only as you fell for an Alpha and he left you.

The same thing could have happened to me. Luckily, my mate wanted to stay with me.

Whenever I look at my daughter, I see a piece of you in her too as you helped her grow while you were around.

I pray you will grow stronger through the loss and pain. I know you will become an independent and wonderful person.

If you find this letter, you can call me anytime. My number is still the same, but I added at the end of the letter, just in case you forgot.

Have a long and wonderful life.

Stay safe,

Miriam

Tears in your eyes you press the letter to your heart. ”Miriam always was nice, but I never thought she would be on my side in this. She was strict, always said to Elize that she should not run around with an Alpha.”

“I think she tried to protect her daughter. She was in the same position as you were and knew about the problems an early bond can cause. In the end, she understood your situation better than anyone.”

Castiel saw enough pain and loss due to bonds formed with the wrong mate to know that the Winchesters regret that they were not with you to strengthen your bond. 

Smiling the angel watches you walk into the library to open the first box with shaking fingers. It inherits clothes you will never wear again and you are laugh at the crazy shirts you liked to wear.

“Cute shirt.” Snickering Sam glances a pink ‘Hello Kitty’ shirt in the box. “You can wear it anytime.”

“I do not think I will ever wear a ‘Hello Kitty’ shirt or Hawaiian shorts again. The clothes are brand-new. I think I’ll donate those.” 

Humming Dean glances at the pink shirt. While you open the next box, he snatches the shirt out of the box to hide it under his flannel.

John smirks watching his son hide the shirt. He knows Dean wants to see you in the shirt and presses his index finger to his lips to make sure Sam keeps his mouth shut.

“Books, my diaries and pictures. I’ll keep those things.” There are five more boxes and your smile grows as you see Miriam even saved your toys. “Maybe one day I can give the dolls and teddy bears to my children.”

John heart races and his cock twitched imagining you filled with his pups.

“Pups…” Purring Dean steps closer to have a look at the toys. “We will find a safe place to store the dolls and things.”

“In here are more books, CD’s, DVD’s and a few pictures.” Sam goes through one of the boxes and you nod as he shoves it toward the other box with the things you want to keep.

While you check on two more boxes Dean’s eyes never leave your face. You never thought you would ever see your things again and now it’s just overwhelming to have all your belongings back.

The last box is full of random things. Make-up, a few thongs, figurines, and other things are hastily thrown into the box. You assume Miriam did not have the time to sort the things in the last box.

“Uh-huh! A red thong…hmmm…” Sam grasps for the underwear before Dean can snatch the thongs too. “Sammy…” Whining the Alpha glances at the thongs and you shake your head at his needy state.

“Dean stop stealing clothes from our Omega. Let us help her carry the boxes into her room and we can have dinner later.”

John picks the first box up as Dean looks one last time at your underwear before he grabs a box too.

“Looks good. I like the pictures and drawings.” Leaning against the doorframe John let his eyes wander. You placed pictures onto the desks and Dean helped you fixating some drawings and pictures at the wall behind your bed. 

On the shelves are your books, CDs, and DVDs along with tiny figurines and a box with your jewelry.

You only kept two pairs of jeans, a dress, two shirts, and your shoes. Sam brought the rest the Salvation Army to donate the clothes you do not need any longer. 

“I got a call from a friend. He said your father sued us at the Sheriff’s department.” John smirks as you look at him with wide eyes.

“Good thing the Sheriff is a good friend of mine and gave a shit on your father's statement.”

“How can he do this? It was his fault my Alpha’s defended me. He should know that the law says every Alpha has the right to defend his Omega.” Walking into your room John looks at the pictures on your desk.

There is one of your mom and you. John can see you must have cut your father out as the is a gap in the picture, but he does not say a word. 

“I want to make dinner. Any wishes?” Poking his head in Dean looks at you. “Burger? Pasta? My charming personality?” 

“I’d like a burger and salad.” Nodding the eldest brother looks around your room. 

“I like the knife next to the fairy.” Liking your style Dean gives you a wink before he strolls toward the kitchen. “Y/N wants a burger, live with-it Sammy.”

“Burger? Again?” Grumbling Sam walks into your room, glancing at the pictures of you, your family and friends. “Can we not eat healthily for once?”

“Tonight, I want a burger. A girl got to eat meat to make sure she can take all of you down if needed.” John’s smirk grows as he sees a shirt of him on your bed, along with one of Dean and Sam.

“She’s a little thief, dad. Look at the bed.” Sam purrs, circling your bed like his prey. “I bet she’s rubbing her cute nose into our shirts. Dirty little ‘mega.”

“Sam be cautious, our Omega is a feisty one. Hard to handle and lovely at the same time. Look at her room, it reflects her personality. Gracile fairy and deadly hunter.” John’s deep voice goes lower every time he gets a whiff of your scent.

“I heard that, old man. You better try to get into my good graces.” Stroking the soft skin behind John’s ear you smirk as he purrs for you. “I think you should eat more meat too, John…I have plans for you…”

“This is the best burger I ever ate, Dean. You are a genius, Alpha. I hope you can cook more. Maybe we can team-up. I could bake a pie using my gran’s recipe and you can make dinner.” 

Dean’s eyes lit up when you moan after you took the last bite. He can sense you are calmer now that you claimed both, Sam, and Dean.

While Sam watches you with amusement, knowing you try to tease John with your behavior his father tries to not purr as you rub your hand over his crotch.

“Dean and I will clean the dishes. It’s getting late and I guess…” Sam can’t hold back the dirty grin on his lips as his father starts to shiver every time you stroke his dick. “You and dad need some time alone.”

“How’d you find out?” Your hand moves faster until John stops it. His eyes darken and you know you broke his resistance. “Submit to me and I am yours tonight, John…”

Your hand slides over his thigh as you lean closer to purr the words into his ear.

“I think it’s time to forgive each other our sins, John. I hated you for too long and you, you felt guilty as long as my hatred was kept alive by my memories…”

“I want you, little ‘mega. You are our queen; you’re my queen and I kneel if I have to. Let me show you I can be more than an Alpha in rut.” 

When you take John’s hand to lead him toward his room, his sons whistle.

“Be gentle. He’s an old man.” Dean snickers.

“He can’t take too much excitement. Take good care of him.” Sam adds.

“Don’t worry, boys…” Giving the brothers a wink you smirk. “I’ll make sure he purrs in no time…”

Tags in reblog.

Trick or Treat, Jaskier/Vesemir, Orgasm denial

Trick or Treat!

Jaskier had been insatiable since the moment he arrived at the keep, draping himself over Geralt and his brothers at any wake moment to get a good pounding. Vesemir hade been okay with it, really, his pups taking turns making the human a pliants a good toy between their schedules, but turned sour when it started to interfere too much.

Geralt came late to the library, Eskel sloppy in his technique, Lambert ‘sleeping in’ and arriving for breakfast with a limping bard in tow and trainings being outright cancelled halfway through due to the human stealing the attention. Enough was enough and if his boys couldn’t keep Jaskier sated and still preform their duties, then Vesemir had to take care of him while they were busy.

Checking the bonds one last time, the old wolf sat back down in front of the bard, one hand trailing up his thigh.

“This is to teach you patience, Jaskier.” The bard squirmed in the ropes, tugging at it harshly and giving him bad looks. Vesemir just sighed and continued, “Everything has it’s limits and if you are overstepping them then I will intervene, as is my duty as the pack leader.”

His hand continued up, stroking the man’s cock softly in his oiled up grip. Immediately the bard let out a groan, hips twitching and bucking up for more. The brought a smile to the other’s face.

“Let’s see how long that enthusiasm stays.” He applied more pressure, stroking the man with increasing speed. He had done this a few times before, knowing well how to deal with rampaging hormones. Jaskier’s hands clenched and unclenched as his head was thrown back, a shiver going through his body as he moved his hips into the warm hand.

Vesemir kept the stroking at a leisurely pace, once in a while speeding up just to watch the human tense up and moan loudly. He could hear the quickening heartbeat, see the sweat pearling in his brow as his edge drew closer, wanton pleas escaping his lips as he snapped his hips for better friction.

That’s when the old wolf pulled back, ceasing all contact with the straining cock and witching it bob helplessly in the air. Jaskier let out a noise much like a wounded animal, big eyes staring at his aching erection and whimpering as he saw Vesemir fold his hands in his lap.

“Now, now, don’t make that face. Haven’t you had plenty of time to come before this? Stealing my witchers from their duties?” The bard didn’t answer, instead pouting and doing his best to relax once again. Vesemir knew much about bretty boys acting stoic, had spent quite a few years with Lambert hiding away his emotions. He would crack eventually.

Jaskier’s cock didn’t go fully soft within the two minutes they waited, barely going down at all in fact as the two sat in silence. Vesemir deemed his calm puls enough, though, and went back to work. He lifted the vial and poured another healthy dose of the oil over the cock, slicking it up properly before stroking him again. He put little to no pressure on the cock, instead using the barest of touch to drive him crazy for several minutes.

“Ah- Vesemir! Fuck- Listen I-... I really need to come,” The bard babbled, Jaskier suddenly finding his voice again despite acting so cold up until that moment. Yet, Vesemir payed him no mind, instead keeping his focus on the member in his hand. His thumb swiped up, rubbing just a little harder on the sensitive underside of his head, chuckling at the wail that the man let out.

It was back again; The rising of his pulse, his muscles tensing under his skin and a shudder going down his spine. Not yet, Vesemir thought, his hand immediately clamping down on the base and holding it there. The cry that escaped the human was almost too good.

Vesemir leaned over his body, careful to not make any contact with the man, and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, smiling softly. A lone tear had fallen from his eye, the wolf swiping it away slowly.

“Just an hour more, okay? I think that will be enough for today.”

for @wormbabie

merry christmas/happy belated birthday!

It was cold. That was the first thing that registered. Any lingering warmth hiding in his body was being drained out by the cool impassive stone he lie on, drank up greedily only to fade and freeze. He felt this, the cold that went beneath his skin. Cold veins. Cold guts. Cold bones. The second thing he notices, as his eyes slanted open, was that it was dark.

Oh, he thought, in that cold dark stillness. I’m dead.

And he was. Yet his fingers twitched, and his eyes rolled, and down in the core of him something pulsed. Not a heart, his heart was as good as dust. It was different. The only living thing left of him.

Hunger.

It twisted his belly. His throat scorched with a dry unbearable heat. His fingers clawed and his eyes squinted against the desperate throbbing thirst that overtook him. There was nothing there, only cold and dark, and in fear and need he began thrashing. The heavy stone tomb, for that was what it was, flew off as though it were a styrofoam prop. Slow, aching, he lifted himself out, staring silently at his epitaph.

Gabriel Reyes.

No, he thought. Not any longer. Gabriel Reyes was a good man, a passionate man who’s heart beat and veins wept. His eyes didn’t glow red in his sepulcher. His skin didn’t have an ashen grey tone. He loved and lived and didn’t freeze. He fought monsters. He wasn’t-

He wasn’t a monster.

Gabriel Reyes was dead, and now he stood alone and cold and so very very hungry. Snarling, he burst open the door to the crypt and swept silently out into the night.

Reyes was alive. He brought hope. But something- someone, had killed him. Hollowed him out, then brought something hungry back in his place. Someone had changed him. He wasn’t Reyes anymore. Already, he could feel the pull on his gut, the call of some higher power. A summons he could not ignore.

Reyes had brought help.

The Reaper brought only death.

-

Jesse hadn’t waited around after the funeral. No one had expected him to, and the only one to look a little disappointed at his hasty exit was little Fareeha, too young to understand.

“Jesse,” Ana has whispered, gathering him into her arms, “My sweet boy. You will always have a home with us, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he had dutifully replied, letting himself go soft for a moment. 

They both knew he wouldn’t stay. Not when the thing that had killed Gabe was still out there. Killed his mentor, his friend, his everything. The beast in his blood howled out mournfully at the loss, demanded he hunt her down. Hunting was what Jesse McCree did best. So with a quick good bye and a fierce scrub down in the church bathroom with cold water until his eyes weren’t burning anymore, he strode out into the burning morning. He didn’t wait to see where they laid him to rest. Rest was the last thing on his mind.

-

The first year had been about control. Specifically his lack of it. That had come with time, for which Reaper was quietly relieved. His head no longer pounded with aching need whenever he heard the pulse of a human heart. His teeth no longer grit through his lips at the faintest hint of blood. He was hungry, yes, but he was no longer mad with it. He could coil the hunger down tight into a small ball at the base of his belly, present but not persistent. 

Under the Witch’s employ, he was often sated.

Still, long stretches came where she had no need of him. He would roam freely in the night, learning his new abilities. It had been 5 years since he had woken up, cold and alone, and the Reaper was a quick study. His tenuous control was iron clad now. He was never a man to be easily swayed in life, and in death he was practically stone. He answered to his Mistress, yes, but outside of her order he did not often feel ruled. Not by his hunger, not any longer. Not by the former members of his organization, hunters to the last. Jack was a bittersweet distant memory now. 

The Reaper moved from town to town, feeding when necessary, spreading fear when bored. He was often bored.

Eternity offered little entertainment.

When he caught on to the hunter on his trail, it was almost delight that rustled in his chest. At last, a distraction from the cold and dark emptiness. The hunter was skilled, he could tell. They had to be, to stay on his track. Skilled, but fool hardy. He walked right into his trap, reckless. 

Reaper laughed, letting the shadows grow long. The distraction had gone on long enough, playing cat and mouse and leaving fox trails with dead ends and cold tracks. He was ready to pick off the nuisance dogging his steps. He wasn’t ready for a familiar face.

Neither was Jesse.

-

He had been hunting the bastard for a while now. Another one of the Bitch of the Waste’s little henchmonsters. The Reaper, they called it. Jesse wanted to scoff at the dramatics. Gabe would have had a laugh about all this, were he still around.

The screaming girl in the warehouse was a trap, and an obvious one, but Jesse had his own ace in the hole, and he wasn’t afraid to go in guns blazing.

It was cold, and it was dark, and he was alone. But he wasn’t alone, was he? He bit back a snarl at the lingering presence in the back of his mind.

“Why don’t ya make this easy for yerself? Come on out where I can see ya.”

Cold, cruel laughter echoed through his bones. He forced himself not to shiver.

“Where you can shoot me, more like. Eh, cowboy?”

Jesse grit out a short, harsh facsimile of a laugh.

“Well. If’n it comes ta that.”

Red eyes glared from the dark, but the teeth? The sharp white teeth were bared in a delighted grin.

“And what can bullets do against shadows?”

“I aim to find out,” he snarled, letting off two sudden shots from his hip. They illuminated the corners for a second before splintering into the wood of the building. The eyes kept watching from fine mist, as Jesse rolled away to take shelter behind a pile of boxes. The flimsy cover offered little comfort.

“Don’t you know anything about vampires, boy? Did they not teach you before they set you on my trail?”

“I know plenty,” He called back, “Which is why these bullets are blessed!”

“Blessed. But a blessed bullet can’t do anything to smoke and mirrors, can it?”

The voice came from over his shoulder, and Jesse struggled not to flinch as superhuman strength dragged him backwards and threw him against the cold wall. He grunted at the impact, hoping his ribs were only bruised. A clawed hand grabbed him by the throat, pinning him with the somber threat of a crushed larynx. Not a fun time, even if it wouldn’t kill him. His guns were stripped and thrown into some dark corner. The line of stakes on his chest were plucked away. His holy water taken, Jesse’s weapons were all sought out, found, discarded, by freezing fingers. His skin was electric, every brush a shock that sent needles of angry protest down his spine. He ground down his sharpening teeth, kept his eyes closed to hide the glow. It wouldn’t do to give himself away so soon.

Then the sharp click of teeth by his ear, The rumble of laughter.

“Did they really send you to kill me? You?”

There was a rustle as his free hand rose to remove the bone white mask shielding the top half of his face, faux teeth like daggers framing his mouth, where his true fangs glinted death. His free hand tightened in warning.

“Oh, Jesse. I thought I trained you better, pup.”

His eyes shot open, gawking openly at his face. His throat worked hard against the palm of his hand.

“R-R’y. R’y’s?”

He brought his head down, leaning it against Jesse’s in a mockery of affection, stealing what little breath he had left.

“I missed you, runt.”

Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes, and Jesse tried to tell himself it was the lack of oxygen.

“Y’r. Dead?”

Gabriel hummed, nodding his agreement. The slight movement brushed their noses together.

“Dead as a doornail, kid. And you.” A cold gust sighed against his cheeks. “You’re so warm.”

Gabriel released his throat, only to bring both hands up to tenderly cradle his face. The hunger he throttled down was raging, pulsing in time with his former partner’s heartbeat. His whole body throbbed in time with it, teeth aching to bury into his hot neck and drink greedily until all the warmth was inside him. But there was more. His dry empty veins were singing out in joy, and the feverish warmth was siphoning off into his skin, sparking underneath. This wasn’t just prey, a quick draining and casting the body aside. This was Jesse. His family. His boy. Reyes wanted to keep him. Wanted to make a feast of him, slow and sweet. Wanted to wrap him up in shadows and hold him tight and fast like a grave, so he couldn’t leave.

“Jesse,” he whispered, “Don’t you want to help?”

“Yeah, Boss,” Jesse choked out, holding back his sobs. “Yeah, I wanna help.”

“I’m lonely, pup. I don’t have anybody to kick around or keep me warm. Don’t you wanna come with me, kid? Just like old times?”

McCree wrapped his arms around him, ignoring him burying his face in his neck. Ignoring the twinge of teeth that sent every one of his instincts howling.

“Just a taste, Jesse. Promise, just a ta-”

Jesse dug his sharpened teeth into Gabriel’s throat, and tore. The dead flesh came apart in his mouth like tissue paper, black recycled blood gushing down his throat like cold death. His eyes glowed gold as he watched his mentor shriek, flying back, hissing and clutching his throat.

“Sorry, boss. Things change on the road.”

Gabriel glared at him, fangs bared, before going deadly still and calm.

“You really are a pup now, huh? Some mutt used you as a chew toy.” Gabriel laughed, a gurgling sound. “Does Jack know? Does Ana?” He took his hand from his throat, flesh already knitting back together. “How long did it take before they cast you out, Jesse. Or did they try to kill you first?” His sneer was an ugly, harsh thing.

“I left,” he replied simply. “Nobody chased me.”

“They didn’t know.”

“They didn’t need to.”

Gabriel smiled, wide, genuine.

“So you’ve got a touch of beast blood now. And you turned tail and ran. Right after me.”

“Right after you. To put you down. To end it. And your witch.”

Gabriel chuckled. No dramatic, booming laughter. No eerie snickers. Genuine humor, a soft remnant of his life.

“You got bit and you just ran off after me. God. You’re a smart man, Jesse, did you even stop to read up on weres?”

Jesse stiffened.

“I know enough. I know how to put em down.”

Gabriel laughed harder, setting his nerves on edge.

“Stop laughin’ at me.”

Gabe paused.

“Oh, Jesse. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at fate. You have my blood in you too now, don’t you?”

Jesse growled.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Gabriel was before him in a flash, crowding him again, but his hands were gentler now. Easing himself into his space.

“Did you know, Jess? A part of you must have. That little whimpering puppy part that wants to show it’s belly.” 

He shoved at him, only to be caught in a firm, controlled grip. Reyes grabbed him by the scruff, eyes flashing with warm pride at the small, choked off whine.

“Did you know?”

“Know what,” Jesse muttered, cringing at his own inability to look up from the floor.

“Vampires and werewolves have a long history, Jesse. Back in the day, it wasn’t unheard of for a whole pack to be under a vampire’s command. Beastblood. It makes you want a pack, doesn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. “Makes you want leadership. But that’s no different than it was before, was it cielito? You still need a firm hand.” The one on his neck clenched down softly, and Jesse’s face burned at the indignity of it. “You drank my blood, runt.” Gabriel dragged him forward, into his chest, and Jesse wanted to scream at himself for going lax in his grip. “You’re as much mine now as you ever were. More, even.” Teeth snapped teasingly at his shoulder. “You’ll do what I tell you. Just like old times. You and me against the world.”

“I won’t,” Jesse whispered. “I won’t do a damn thing you say.”

“Jesse.” Shadows crept in around him. “You won’t have a choice.” 

The last thing he felt before the shadows overtook his mind was the sharp pain in his shoulder as the Reaper’s fangs tore into him, followed by the warm floating acceptance. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream.

He slept.

-

When he woke up, it was warm. That was the first thing that registered. He was bundled up on a bed softer than any he had slept in for years, blankets thick. It was warm, and it was dark. He was not alone. An arm was curled around his shoulders, pinning him against someone’s side.

Oh, he thought. I’m alive.

Gabriel grumbled, sensing he was awake, and pulled him in closer.

“Mine,” he muttered, tucking Jesse’s head under his chin and nuzzling his nose into his hair. Jesse sighed, hot breath lingering on cool skin. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

“Mine,” Gabriel repeated, softer, before languishing in the warmth again and joining him. He felt sated.

Take a Chance. Roll the Dice. (February 23, 2020)

Para: Take a Chance. Roll the Dice.

Rating: PG-13.

Pairing: Seblaine.

When: February 23, 2020 

Location: Sebastian’s Cambridge, MA apartment.

Notes: Things have been slightly off between Seb and B. Also some magic talk.

Warnings/Notes: Funny and very happy ending, we promise!

BLAINE:

Blaine glanced once more over at his boyfriend from his side of the couch. The other man was still staring intently at his case work like it was the most interesting thing in the word. Blaine sighed and reread the same page of A Darker Shade of Magic for the fifth time. He’d read it before, it was one of his favorite fantasies but it seemed not even reckless, restless, charming Rhy Maresh could hold his interest for very long and that was saying something. All he really wanted was for his boyfriend to look at him, just once and maybe give him a smile. It was Sunday evening and they’d already had some dinner, though neither of them ate much and were both showered and in pajamas for the night. Normally by now they would have turned on a movie, maybe were laughing and touching and stealing kisses by this point. But, tonight Sebastian was quiet. Not his normal quiet, but like he had something to say and couldn’t or wouldn’t say it. Blaine could feel it and it was driving him slowly insane.

Seb still has his long legs curled up on the couch and his feet tucked up under Blaine’s legs, and he still would absently toy with the fabric of his grey pants, his brow furrowed as he marked things here and there with a yellow highlighter. They were still existing in each others space naturally but, something was off. Something was amiss. He wanted attention and usually all he had to do was look at his boyfriend and he got it. He’d thrown so many looks Seb’s way that thought for sure by now Sebastian would have huffed in annoyance from highlighting and pushed his work onto the coffee table in favor of collapsing over and snuggling into Blaine’s side and asking to watch something that would more than likely give him nightmares. You know, just so they could cuddle and kiss.

 But, it’d been hours and Blaine was still reading the same damn page in his novel and the crisps slide of marker across page could still be heard every few minutes. Even Ras was acting off. He kept waking up and looking back at them and huffing like he was waiting for something to happen. Normally Blaine could read the pup’s energy but, tonight he couldn’t even summon the energy. Not even Freya wanted to stick around in this energy. She’d long ago left the apartment. All Blaine could feel was this icky unfamiliar feeling in his gut that told him something was wrong with him and Sebastian. Out of place. He’d only felt this once and that had been because Sebastian asked for space when finding out he was a witch and his best friend was basically an assassin but, nothing had happened for them to be back here right now.

He turned his page, eyes just scanning at this point and felt a jump of excitement when Sebastian pushed his work to the table and stretched, his maroon Harvard tee riding up just enough for Blaine to see Seb’s star dusted skin, the sight gave Blaine a jolt of excitement. But his excited and hopeful smile ghosted away as his boyfriend stood up and walked over to the door for his coat and shrugged it on as he jammed his shoes onto his feet halfway. Ras jumped up to follow him thinking they’d be going for another walk.

“Be right back, B.” his voice a rumble from lack of use as he reached out to tug just so on one of Blaine’s still damp curls and he made his way out to the balcony to smoke his third cigarette of the night. Blaine knew something was stressing him out. Sebastian only ever smoked when he was stressed. Mostly when he was home with his family. Him and his mom hiding out to get away from the obnoxious Smythes. Seb hauling him down into the Smythe family basement to sneak in smoky kisses that Blaine should hate but found extremely sexy all the same. This though, Sebastian smoking so boldly off and on all week like this was something different. There wasn’t a father chastising him. Or a semi racist set of aunts. It was just him. Just Blaine. And Blaine was beside himself with worry about what it could mean. They were always so in tune, they fit together so perfectly. Were two ends of the same red string. Only right now that string felt stretched further than it felt when Seb was in Paris.

He huffed and closed his book before letting it drop down on the coffee table. He looked out the window, watching the back of two of his favorites for a moment. Ras looking up at his papa with curious eyes while streams of smoke billowed around Sebastian making him look like a specter. His boyfriend also looked small with one arm wrapped around himself for warmth. Blaine swallowed thickly and sighed wondering for the hundredth time what in the world was keeping them out of step. With that thought, he decided promptly that he needed a drink. The whiskey was gone and Blaine didn’t care much for vodka so he would have to settle for tea. He fumbled through the cabinets, growing more insecure and anxious the longer Sebastian was outside. And where the hell was his chamomile tea!

He had just set the tea kettle down, a little too hard actually, when he heard the door to the balcony slide open and Ras pad into the room. The pup nosing around no doubt looking for his dad now. It didn’t take Ras long to find him. Blaine gave the golden a little smile and loving pet, the kisses from their dog giving him some much needed courage. He’d decided he’d had enough of the waiting. What was he so afraid of? That they were going to break up? The notion seemed so fucking silly that he laughed out loud as he closed the cabinets and made his way around the corner just in time to see Seb sit back down on the couch and pull the blanket over his lap. His cheeks red from the snow. Blaine wanted nothing more than to kiss them.

He made his way over to the couch, alcohol and tea forgotten, and sat down next to Sebastian. This was all so silly because they were soul mates. They were made for each other and even if they weren’t Fated Blaine knew that the two of them would have found a way to each other somehow. So there was no point in waiting around for a solution that may not come on it’s own. Whatever was wrong they would work out together just like they always did.He reached for Seb’s hand just as he was about to pick up his course work again. “Seb.” His voice was almost too soft. He cleared his throat. He laced their fingers together, pulling their hands to his lap.

“I feel like you might be upset with me. Or like something is off with us. Don’t you feel it too?” He shrugged, feeling a little lost. “Are you upset with me for something?

SEB:

Sebastian didn’t want to, or even mean to, push Blaine away. He had always had a bad habit of letting his quiet moments have hard edges. He’d get stressed or afraid or upset and wouldn’t explain it, choosing instead to storm around in silence or to focus on his work with a fierce determination. Sebastian had a pattern when he was stressed. He would find himself bathed in the harsh yellow light of a convenience store surrounded by the scent of stale coffee and day old doughnuts. He’d grab some sort of terrible and chemical filled junk food (he was partial to Philly cheese steak tornadoes or those white cheddar Doritos that claimed to be organic) and then he’d ignore the clerk’s greeting. “ Marlboro Reds,” Sebastian would throw down his I.D. without being asked,grab a random lighter to add to the bill, and swipe his credit card.

After the interaction with the weird flower woman, he headed to the grocery store and then felt his feet lead him to the nearest 7/11. Seb got his snack and his cigarettes and this time ended up with a lighter that said “It’s lit!”. He rolled his eyes as he lit the cigarette he held between his lips. He would lose the lighter soon, anyway. He always did.

Sebastian had been in the daze of stress for a few days, subconsciously throwing himself into his school work. He knew that he wasn’t being as affectionate with Blaine as he usually was but, he was so afraid of bringing up the interaction. Not because the other man would get mad but, because he would get upset and start to blame himself for everything. Sebastian wanted to avoid that thought in the back of his head, he knew he needed to bring up the encounter soon.

As he stood on the balcony, trying to clutch as much warmth inside of himself as he could, he thought about the tense atmosphere of the apartment. It was obvious Blaine knew something was up. Who did Sebastian think he was, trying to fool a fucking witch. He blew out his smoke towards the dark sky and sighed. They were just going to have to talk, and Sebastian would just have to convince Blaine that it would be okay, even if he was unsure about what it all really meant in the grand scheme of witchiness or whatever.

When he came back into the apartment he let Blaine lace their fingers together. Sebastian could kick his own ass for making Blaine feel like he was mad at him. “No,B. It’s not that at all. He gave his hand a squeeze and pulled him closer. “But, yeah. I feel it. I guess I have something to tell you, actually.” He ran his free hand through his mussed hair. “I’m not sure where to start. There’s this flower shop I usually pass when I’m out running errands. This lady that works there, I think she may be a witch. She knew my name and like, I think I’ve only ordered flowers there once or twice. She pulled me over and started talking like she knew about us. It has had me so freaked out and I’ve been avoiding talking about it because I don’t want you to get upset.”

BLAINE:

Blaine gave a small smile, so Sebastian wasn’t mad at him. That felt good to hear and the reassuring feeling of his hand being squeezed by familiar, slender fingers almost made the last week melt away. That was until Seb told him he had something to tell him. He knew it was too good to be true and felt his heart sink lower and that weird feeling took hold again. He listened closely though, just in case it wasn’t as awful as he felt I might be. A vague memory washed over him as his boyfriend spoke.

 He remembered, gods, had it been a year and a half ago now? Had they really almost known each other that long? Two years this June… Some days it felt longer and others it felt like no time at all. But, he remembered that Seb used to bring him chocolates and little random flowers, telling him that anytime he walked by this flower shop that he’d be given one. ‘On the house.’ Friday’s. Aphrodite's day. It was also Freya and Frigg’s day but, in this case he knew all too well that it was meant to stand for Aphrodite. What could this mean? When did it happen? And why had Seb waited so long to say something to him?

“You’re talking about Friday’s? Yeah, they’re witches.” He asked even though it was rhetorical. He knew. “She knew about us? Does she know my name, too?” He was speaking too fast and he knew it, but his nerves were kicking in and he was growing a little more frantic by the second. If some high priestess knew about them, who else knew? And did this all have something to do with the Oracles?

“You should have told me, Seb.” He shook his head, and pulled away from Sebastian and stood up. Pacing the short space between the balcony and the couch, a habit he apparently picked up from his father. Ras’s big black eyes following him with worry. “This could be bad, I can’t believe I’ve messed up this much that Priestess’ are talking about us. How could they possibly know?” He whipped back around, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “Did she threaten you? I mean that wouldn’t like them but, I don’t know, what we’re doing is kind of a big deal. Did she say anything that might make it seem like she was going to run off and tell the world?” He worried his bottom lip, eyes not really focusing on anything as he thought.

“Why would you keep this a secret? I wouldn’t be upset with you! I’m just... terrified.” He tried to ignore that he too had a secret but, he pushed that away.

SEB:

Sebastian stood up to get in the way of Blaine’s pacing. Maybe if he stopped him in his tracks, it would get him to calm down. He placed his hands on Blaine’s biceps. Seb took a deep breath. So, he had been right about the witches at the flower shop. “Yeah, Friday’s…” Sebastian thought for a second and chewed on his bottom lip. Blaine was right. He should have told him.

“Well, I didn’t want to upset you. I didn’t think you’d be upset with me, per se. Just upset about the situation. I knew you’d get freaked out. I should have said something sooner, I know. It happened like a week ago and I- Wait, did you say Priestess?” Sebastian blinked a few times and tried to process that word. “What does that mean, in relation to your world? I’m never going to grasp this stuff, am I?” 

Seb thought for a second, remembering the strange things the woman had said. “She said that I was chosen or something. What was it?  ‘She knew what she was doing when she picked you.’” His eyes widened, Oh god, was he in even deeper shit than he thought? “Fuck, what does that mean?! I thought she was just a creepy witch lady but, she’s a Priestess?! Fuck, am I like, going to be sacrificed? No offense, of course.” His voice was shrill and his stomach turned with a sour pang of panic. Sebastian had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. “She mentioned star crossed lovers and poems,too. This is insanity.”

BLAINE:

Blaine let Sebastian hold onto him, the feeling of his fingers against his arms making him feel better because of course it made him feel better. This was his Sebastian and of course he didn’t keep it a secret to hurt him. “I know you didn’t. I’m not upset with you, I’m just so nervous. I can’t calm down about any of it. I keep thinking over and over in my head that if I weren’t trying to woo you in Paris that we’d be just how we were before and Priestess wouldn’t be stalking you.” He paused, trying to think of how to describe a Priestess to his boyfriend. 

“Well, they’re women that officiate sacred rites. And they solely worship a single deity and dedicate their whole lives to them. Sort of like a Priest? And by the looks of it you talked to a High Priestess if she hears direct word from the goddess. I can’t believe she called you out by name.” Blaine let himself smile for a moment at his boyfriends bewildered face. “It’ll take me a lifetime to show you my whole world.” He bit his bottom lip, pulling his smile away. “I just hope I get the chance to stay with you for a lifetime so I can show you.”

Blaine placed both of his hands on Sebastian’s arms, this time to offer his own comfort as he rubbed gently up and down his arms, to attempt to calm his boyfriend down. “Star crossed lovers? Gods, Seb. I don't know what that means, I mean I do but, it could be anything here. You were chosen? Chosen for what?” He paused, thinking to himself. Chosen for me? Could this be why they were Fated when it had never happened between a witch and a human before?

He was lost in thought and only pulled out by the word sacrifice. He wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s torso and pulled him to him. “What? No, no you’re not going to be sacrificed, baby. Aphrodite deals with love. She adores love and beauty and you’re both of those things to me. And probably anyone that looks at you.” He paused, unsure of how to keep going. “Maybe she’s part of the reason that all of this has happened? Maybe she had some hand in making us meet? I don’t know. Gods and Goddess don’t usually care too much about humans and when they do bad things happen whether they meant them to or not. I just don’t know... Or maybe it’s just some Priestess that’s gotten wind of our relationship and is being dreamy about us. I don’t know but…

Blaine hesitated. How was he going to explain Oracles to Sebastian? He had to try, he needed to make all of this make some sort of sense for the both of them. “I, uh, guess I have something to tell you as well?” He let his arms hang loosely around Seb as he spoke. “Friday my dad called me into his office. He was acting so freaking weird, Seb. He was talking about how I needed to start practicing my violin, you remember that, right? And about how something big was coming and I needed to be ready. He doesn't know what it is but, well, the Oracles are stirring I guess.  That’s… that’s a big damn deal. They don’t do that sort of thing lightly.” He looked up into Seb’s green eyes for a moment, trying to put into words what they were.

“They’re like prophets of the Lord? But, in this case it’s not for the Lord. I think that somehow your experience and what my dad told me may tie in together but, I don’t know how. Humans aren’t supposed to be toyed with and well, here we are. I don’t know what to think anymore.” He bit his lip again, and pulled Seb closer. “All I know is that things are happening. They’re changing and it seems to revolve around us and I want you to know that I”m going to fight for you as hard as I can.” He shook his head. “They’re not going to pull us apart. We’ll figure out a way to stay together. I promise.”

SEB:

Sebastian hated feeling discombobulated. He liked order and control and knowing what was happening and where he stood. His brain felt like it was on information overload and his lips itched to hold a cigarette. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Okay, okay. He was in bible school once upon a time. He knew what a prophet was, he read Wonder Woman comics and Zara was a Priestess. Sebastian could figure this shit out, he could fake it till he made it in this strange world of Blaine’s. “I got it, okay.”  

He didn’t want to acknowledge why some Priestess knew who he was or if he really was chosen by whoever. Sebastian didn’t want his relationship to be scrutinized under the magnifying glass that was expectation. None of that mattered to him and all of it made his temples throb with tension. 

He didn’t like the thought of Blaine even entertaining the notion of dying for their relationship. “Okay, please...don’t.” He held his hands up as if to wipe the words that his boyfriend had spoken out of the air. “That’s not gonna happen.” 

Sebastian let his body fall hard onto the cushions of the couch. He held his head in his hands and blew out a frustrated puff of air. “I believe you, B and you know what? Fuck it, I’ve never followed the rules. Why start now?” He stared at the wall and shook his head for a moment. This truly was too much. They needed to relax. He just wanted things to go back to how they were a few months ago, with no known danger hanging over their heads like heavy rain clouds.

“I got an idea.” He made his way over to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. Around Valentine’s day, Hunter had stopped by with a gift, ‘Lovers Dice’ that his friend had kept in the brown bag that the store had provided, with a red bow slapped on. One dice had various body parts and the other had actions. There was a bonus set with sex positions illustrated by those little men and women figures usually shown on bathroom signs. They were tacky and hetero normative and he let his friend know just that by punching him in the arm. “Hunter, I did not minor in gender studies for you to insult me like this.” 

Seb tossed the bag into Blaine’s hands. “Wanna play a game to lighten things up?”

BLAINE:

Blaine gave Seb a smile and shook his head, “I’ll try not to get myself killed, promise.” He let his arms drop and followed Seb back over to the couch, letting himself against the back cushions. He let his hands trail up and down Seb’s back as his boyfriend spoke, each swipe up and down an affirmation of love. He watched as Seb seemed to visibly will some of his troubles away with his head in his hands and a woosh of air from his lungs.  “Yeah, I guess you aren’t too good at that. Apparently neither am I because, well, here I am, still sneaking around with you.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Seb’s jaw.

His brain was still in overdrive but Sebastian was talking to him and so willing to learn and listen to him. They’d be okay, at least for now. He could keep them safe. And it didn’t matter at this very moment what the Oracles or the Priestesses wanted. Or even the Council or Order. what mattered is that Seb trusted him and he trusted Seb. They were together and real and very much meant to be in every sense of the phrase. They could get through it together. He only hoped that the big thing that was coming was something positive and not his doom. If it turned out to be the other thing, the worst thing, then Blaine would do everything in his power to keep Sebastian safe, even if he wasn’t of this earth any longer. He sighed, and tried his best to compartmentalize all that was just said. Sebastian was right, there was so much they needed to go over. So much to learn.

He watched as Seb made his way over to his desk, eyebrows raised as he waited and absently stroked Ras’ golden fur. The pup seemed to be visibly relieved that his parents were now talking and touching. Blaine gave the dog a smile and a kiss on the nose before turning and catching the tossed bag just in time. He squinted at the bag as if he didn’t trust it and opened it tentatively before reaching in and pulling out what seemed to be dice. His face heated up as he read of some the words etched into the cube; LICK, TOUCH, KISS on one set and NECK, LIPS, THIGH… Oh gods. These were sex dice. This gift, he was sure it was a gift had Hunter written all over it. He wasn’t sure how much they’d accomplish with them but Seb was looking at him with his signature little smirk and Blaine felt a little jolt of excitement at the prospect of getting to touch or lick him. 

“Anything for you, dear.” He grinned, feeling a little better already. 

He put the dice with the heterosexual pictures back into the bag because there was no way he was touching that. He looked up at his boyfriend, a little unsure, but shrugged his shoulders and rolled them all the same. RUB was the first one that landed and the word was so comical right now in this once tension filled apartment that he let out a little, almost immature, giggle. The silly word was followed closely by the less comical but equally ridiculous word NAVEL. He laughed for a moment as he turned to Seb, eyes bright with mirth. 

“I guess I’m supposed to rub your navel... This might be the sexiest thing we’ve ever done.”

SEB:

Sebastian was so relieved to hear Blaine laugh. He knew the ridiculous dice would be just right to break the tension that had been laying thick in the air of the apartment. He, too, felt giddy over the possibilities of stupid combinations.  “I’m already satisfied with these dice because you’re smiling.” He looked down and saw the stupid pairing that Blaine had landed on. Sebastian tipped his had back and laughed. How did anybody accomplish anything with these things? He lifted up his shirt to reveal his toned stomach, giggling a little still. “Well, I guess you have to do it now.” After the deed was done and his laughter from being ticklish had subsided, he leaned in close and gave Blaine a kiss. Sebastian nipped at his bottom lip and cupped the back of his head, pressed his other hand against the small of his back, kissed him for a few more moments. “Gotta get back to the game,B.” 

Seb picked up the dice and inspected them, his heart beating fast from the kisses. He cupped his hands and shook the little plastic pieces around a bit. “You know, I’ve always believed that luck is in your own hands.” He held the dice up and chose a side on each and laid them down on the coffee table for the other man to see. YOUR CHOICE and BELOW WAIST. Sebastian reached out and tugged Blaine in close by the neck of his shirt. He kissed him, slid his hands down into the back of his pants, and moved his mouth down to press against the stubble of his boyfriend’s jaw. Seb maneuvered his body to slide down, his knees hitting the cold hardwood floor as he settled in between Blaine’s thighs.  He toyed with the waistband of his sweatpants, kissed just below his navel. “The dice insisted….” Sebastian pressed the tip of his nose into the hair that trailed down his boyfriend’s belly. He began to tug down on the waistband, making sure to hook his fingers into the band of his boxer briefs as well.  

When he felt Blaine’s music worn fingers in his hair he knew that things would be okay. All they needed was each other and this apartment. They were going to take their destinies into their own hands, as cliche as that was, and they were going to win. They had the control, they had the dice. 

/fin.

Fenrir - 12 weeks old

I haven’t been very good at keeping up with this, as most of my energy goes into actually training and handling Fen, as opposed to writing about him. But as I kept telling myself (and everyone else kept telling me) time has passed quickly and a lot of things have improved, so I’m finally able to sit down and do this thing. 

So far, Fen has been to the vet three times since I’ve had him: first, for his initial checkup and some boosters to his base vaccinations and distemper: second, because he threw up and had really bad diarrhea so I was concerned: third for his parvo booster. The first appointment was 5 days after I got him and he whined and screamed the whole time (the tech just nodded and in a moment of silence said, “That good old Shepherd scream, huh?”). The second, he was pretty whiny but calmed down quickly. The third, he barely whined at all and in fact actually fell asleep on the floor of the office (to the bleeding hearts of every tech and vet in the building - it was very cute). He’s weighed in at a whopping 22.8ilbs! 

It’s all in the ears tbh.

Fen does still have the occasional accident inside, but only in the basement, as that is where his kennel and pen are, and where he has to be when I’m not home. It’s getting warmer now, so I’m giving serious consideration to getting him a doghouse for the back porch and putting his lead out there. He doesn’t like being in his pen, and in fact I’ve had to tether him to the back of his kennel so that he doesn’t escape said pen (he’d have an escape artist ability that could rival a goddamned husky if he wasn’t so clingy). As much as I don’t want to spend the money on a doghouse that I won’t be taking with me when I move in 4 months, the current situation isn’t ideal so that’s probably where we’re headed. 

Fen is an extremely laid back dog. I know he’s only 3 months old, but this pup barely ever gets bursts of energy, and when he does, he just wants to play with his toys or go to the park; I saw him with zoomies one(1) time when we went to my friend’s apartment and they riled him up, but he calmed down the instant I had him lay down. Even at the park, he doesn’t sprint (partially...partially because his paws are too big for him and he falls over himself. He falls a lot.) he just finds another dog to annoy and has a blast letting them beat him up. (Fun note: yesterday, there was a husky, Leo, who really liked me and showed this affection by jumping and rubbing on me like a cat would. Fen got very jealous and a little protective, and stood between my legs barking at this dog who’s got like 40Ilbs on him and absolutely no fucks to give. Nothing else, just yelling at this husky for daring to demand the attention of his dad. It was....very, very funny. Especially considering every time we go to the park he steals the heart of every human there. Also Leo had just spent the past 20 minutes putting Fen on his back and sticking his butt in his face.) Anyway, I worried at first that I was over-exercising him and forcing him to have this laid back behaviour, but even on days where we don’t take a super long walk or meet a bunch of new people: he plays with his toys for a few hours, gets tired, and goes to sleep. When he meets new people, he’s ecstatic to go up to them, lick them, and then lay down and get all the pets. He only wakes up and leaves his nap site to follow me around and sit and watch what I’m doing. My dad’s shepherd was not this calm. My wonderful pit mix from my childhood was not this calm. My foster puppy was NEVER this calm (she slept a lot because she was sick but when she was up, she was MOVING, and now she’s super zoomy). None of my grandparent’s labradors were this calm under the age of 5. He’s just like this and it jives wonderfully with my lifestyle. 

As it is, Fen and I do walk over a mile together almost every day. It’s necessary in order to socialise him the way I need him to be socialised - ideally, I would like to train him to be a true emotional support animal and establish behaviours that will help him help me with my anxiety attacks and deep bouts of depression. Also, I’m moving to an extremely dog friendly city and I would very much like to take him with me most places. Fen’s recalls are getting a lot better, to the point where if the cat isn’t moving, he will actually break focus and come to me, away from the cat. I credit that to the amount of time we spend going places and meeting new people and establishing appropriate behaviour in these new places. He’s never made a mess in a store, he’s gotten overly excited maybe once. At this point the only issue I have with Fen in public is 1) he wants to chase cars, 2) he wants to say hello to every single person in existence no matter if they make eye contact or not, and 3) he wants to be friends with every dog he sees. The car chasing is not a big deal, since he’s always on a leash and I really need to just get him downtown on a nice day to watch traffic. Luckily most people either want to say “hi” back and are really understanding of the fact that he’s only 3 months old and has difficulty remembering his manners. The strange dog situation is taking time. He’s does well on his leash when it’s just us and maybe one other person to walk with, and he is responding to “heel” consistently as of yesterday (it still takes a few reminders with treats but I’m extremely satisfied with his progress), so I think the new dog meeting will get better with time. Unfortunately I live in an area with a lot of irresponsible dog owners who don’t seem to understand when their dog is tense, shouldn’t interact with puppies, or just straight up really not dog friendly (man with very large german shepherd at the dog park fence ////// he keeps coming when I’m there and every time that shepherd starts growling and danger barking at one of the other dogs in the fence. Luckily his owner hasn’t brought him in but I’m constantly worried that one day it’ll just be me and Fen and the dude will bring that dog in and.... siiiiiigh I haven’t talked to him but god I hope that day never comes). I had to explain to a couple with a Pomeranian yesterday that their dog is protective and insecure, and his bouncing is play. I get that it’s hard to read body language on small fluffy dogs, but these people actually had no idea. It’s weird being me in this town sometimes.

The cat situation....makes me really sad, to be honest. I love my roommate’s cat so, so much. I adore Regal. The fact that Fenrir, my dog, puts him on edge and harasses him makes me feel absolutely awful. I’m examining all of their interactions and behaviours and I know that this is something that is only going to improve with time, but as of now....it just sucks. This is part of why I’m probably going to end up getting Fen a doghouse for during the day, too. Fen’s stress makes Regal stressed, and that makes for very bad behaviour. Fen is still not being aggressive in the least - nothing in his attitude or body language lead me to believe he wants to hurt Regal - but the attempts to chase put me on edge and I know that makes the whole situation worse. Interacting with the cat is the only complaint I have right now and I am doing my absolute damndest to make it better. I know it takes time, but it’s....draining and demoralizing. 

I usually work Sunday mornings, so this is sort of weird for us both, but Fen and I have started hanging out in my room on the mornings I don’t work before we venture out. He was happily gnawing on his toys and now he’s just napping. The AKC keeps sending me emails every week about what to work on and I’m just like, “yeah we already started on that, it’s going well.” Sometimes I worry that I’m pushing him too hard to learn new behaviours but his specific training sessions don’t last longer than 20 minutes, and then his commands are just reinforced throughout his days. And honestly, he’s very true-to-form shepherd in...every single instance I’ve put him in, minus that fear based anxiety. All of his problems are because he’s “too friendly”, not because he’s afraid. Well, he might be afraid of tiny angry terriers whose owners insist is “usually so friendly”. Yeah, that dog actually make contact. Through a fence. Sigh. 

Who could want to bite this face???

How the Jinch Stole Christmas

A Grinch!AU where Jennie tries to steal Christmas but three sisters and a town full of Whos change her mind.

Jennie Kim was resting as she often did this time around this perfect time called noon. However, the sound of carols and jingle bells woke her up all too soon. Oh the sounds of Christmas cheer, it made her flinch, but what else do you expect from one the Whos called the Jinch? She took her face mask off and threw it down. What were the Whos doing in their wretched little town?

Looking at her calendar and seeing all the crossed off dates. Jennie realized that it was the one that she decided to most hate. It was Christmas Eve and everything was bustling. Here and there and everywhere the townspeople where hustling. The last bit of decorations, bobbles and trim. Little did they know that the Jinch’s patience had at last grew wayyyy too thin.

“They’re hanging their stockings and making it bright.” The Jinch scoffed and sneered. “This doesn’t feel right. How is Christmas Day already so near? Three hundred and sixty four days of silence could never replace all the noise noise noise once everything that the holiday spirit held is perfectly in place!”

She imagined the toys and joys that would be given to the girls and poise and then, and then all the noise! Noise! NOISE!

The beeps and clangs from all technological thangs.

The youngers would get all the things with spinny spinning wheels.

So many Whos would go click clack in their brand new heels.

They’d gather in bunches and talk talk talk while at all the new things and lights they’ll continue to look at and gawk

They’ll probably play jenga while others read manga, falling wood on tables abound.

They’ll dance wearing tressingles. Face full of makoloos.

They’ll drink their sojingles. Happy to listen to foolaroos.

They’ll pop and cheer and cherish everything that’s dear.

And the Jinch didn’t want to hear any of that this year.

“Kuma, my darling.” She said to her yapping precious pup. “I know hate it too, isn’t the constant silence enough?”

Jennie picked up her dog with chocolate floofy hair that covered his whole body and made him look like a tiny grizzlie bear. Then she gave him kisses because he was the only thing she would ever love.

“I need a way to ruin Christmas. If only an answer came from above!” Eyes up to the sky, she waited for the perfect plot. But did a miracle happen and squash the Christmas spirit and turn off the awful Christmas music?

It did not.

So the Jinch sighed and slammed her door shut, but then the cute little darling heard a small sound that hit her right in the gut. Her Kuma had run outside to play in the snow.

“Quickly, back to the door I must go!”

Jennie threw open the door and could not see her Kuma anywhere and that was because her brown fur and become way too fair. He blended in with the snow itself for when the door was shut, the white flakes came from the roof to make a very sudden hut. The dog was ok since it’s fur kept it warm, so he shook most of it off. There was no cause for alarm. Most of it came off, except from his chin.

But the image in front of her made the Jinch give a wicked grin. Bringing her pup inside, her brain and arms began her most mischievous plan. As if there was anything she knew about Christmas is that it all depended on one very very fat man with cheeks so red it could start a fire. Jennie searched her closet to see if she could create the right holiday attire. After some time and some sewing and snipping, our Jinch knew she had the perfect outfit.

She chuckled to herself, “Once I’m done with them, the Who’s won’t know what went missing.”

The Jinch used the white curtains to make a beard for her face. After smiling in the mirror to herself, she made sure everything else was in place. Using the cases from the pillows she would usually rest her head, she used the pillows themselves to make it look as though as if she had been extremely well fed. The pillow cases were sewn together to make the Jolly Man’s sack where all the Christmas trinkets would be stored after her night long attack. There was a sleigh in the backyard that she had decided to use. She had stolen it last year since the town when the town got a bigger one and said that this one was old news.

There was just one thing missing that Santa had and that she lacked. That was a reindeer that obeyed every time the whip was cracked. Though, the big man didn’t have a whip and neither did she. The only thing that she had was her hot cocoa colored puppy. Kuma needed an antler, a tree branch would do. She made it so the twig would stay put and off they flew.

Into the town, they slithered and stole. By the end of the night, the Jinch would have made the Whos pay a very big toll. Into the first house the grumpy girl snuck and made it so that all of the stockings from the fireplace became unstuck. After getting everything into the sack and out the window, there was only one thing left in this house that had to go. The pink tinsel Christmas tree with decorations placed with care. The Jinch started to tie it up, but something made her stop right there.

“Santa, that you?” A voice slightly muffled made Jennie the Jinch jump in fright.

It was nothing but a tired who eating in the middle of the night. A rice cake was hanging out of her mouth. Jennie had to think of something quick, or the plan would go south. She swallowed the treat all the way down.

Then she looked that the supposed Santa and started to frown, “I’m Rosé. You’re Santa cuz you’re fat. Oh wait, Santa Claus, why are you messing with our tree like that?”

“Well you see, my dear.” The impersonator fibbed. “You got the wrong tree. This one has already been dibbed. Don’t worry, my child, I’ll bring you a new one. I promise, I promise, it’ll be perfectly done.”

Before the Jinch could finish his nightly chore, another tired Who made her way through the empty corridor. This one had very dark hair unlike her sister with locks quite fair. Both had on pink sweaters so soft and cozy. Jennie really hated people like this who were nosy.

“This is Lisa, she’s younger than me.”

This Lisa girl worried too, “What are you doing with our tree?”

“Your tree belongs to another, so keeping it would be wrong. But I cross my heart dear, your tree won’t be gone long. I’ll take this tree to the correct house and put the correct one in this exact place.”

Rosé nodded, a new treat passing her lips. Hearing new footsteps, Jennie couldn’t believe that wasn’t the end of all the nighttime trips. A girl with hair in a very messy bedtime bun came into the living room to join in to all the fun.

“Why are you out of bed? What did you get up to do?”

Lisa introduced the girl, “This is our big sister Jisoo.”

The situation was explained once again and they all said it was fine. The Jinch promised to have it have their new tree set up before it was nine. And so the three girls went back to bed with tired eyes and promises and a craving that had been fed. Jennie sighed and said that was close before she finished emptying all the other Who houses in their neat little rows. All the toys they went into her sack. As if she would keep her promise of it ever coming back. For her plan was the throw it off the edge of her mountain home, and she couldn’t wait for the the whole town of Whoville to whine and bemoan.

When it was all done, she did just that. Jennie couldn’t wait to get out of her accursed Christmas hat. She leaned in and listened just as the dawn was breaking because she knew it was around this time that the whole town would be awaking. She waited for them to see that Christmas was gone with their gifts and decorations. The Jinch couldn’t wait to hear their cries. However instead of whining and complaining about what had gone missing, Jennie just couldn’t believe her eyes.

All the Whos down in Whoville gathered around the tree and began to sing a carol about friends and family. That’s when Jennie realized it wasn’t about gifts and trinkets or any of those things. What mattered really was the togetherness that the Christmas season brings. The Jinch realized that Christmas wasn’t something you could steal. It was what mattered in one’s hearts of hearts. It was about what one could feel.

Speaking of hearts, Jennie felt hers beat. She felt guilty and bad about what she had done, it really wasn’t neat. And so she pull the gifts back from ledge before it went over. Our beautiful and sweet girl followed what her inner goodness told her. She brought back the gifts, and trees, and decorations alike. Then someone gave their own gift to her, what she always wanted, a bike! Real festivities bagan and everyone forgave only on one condition that Jisoo layed out.

“From now on, you behave.”

“I promise I’ll be good. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. It just seemed that even without me that you could have so much fun.”

Lisa honest and told her what they thought, “We always sent you an invitation, but it seemed like you always forgot.”

Jennie was glad things were cleared up and everything was fine. The townspeople also invited their new friend to join them and dine. Everyone got a plate piled up with food and even fluffy Kuma was in a happy mood.

So Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight. Oh wait, oh wait, that isn’t the ending for this one, right?

Werewolf!Mingyu

Notes: Here you go Nonnie! I hope this is what you wanted~ I have a lot of fun writing fantasy aus, so I hope you guys like reading them also. Requests are open!!

•being a human when everyone else has some sort of magic, makes life very interesting

•since they aren’t enough humans to have a human school, you go to a normal high school

•your first day was spent basically hiding away in the shadows, or was until you ran into a vampire literally

•but he became your first friend, begrudgingly

•so that’s how you met Jihoon, a vampire who hated being in the sun, didn’t drink enough blood to fly or turn into a bat

•becoming friends with someone made you a little more confident so you walked in the hallway, like a normal person

•you made it to homeroom and apparently this high school was very different

•for staple classes such as math, science, history, and English, you’d stay in the classroom and one teacher would teach all the subjects

•for other classes you moved around, classes that had nothing to do with you but you still took

•

•throwing a paper ball at minghao, a fourth generation witch

•he glared at you before unraveling the crumpled paper

•in black marker you had written a request to eat lunch together, to which he nodded back to you

•smiling at him, you went back to writing how some old man died in the 1900 because he tried to fight a werewolf in a bar fight

•when the bell rang, teens flooded the halls, all trying to get to their next class or to eat lunch

•there was a no flying policy in the halls but you could see a few bats and other small flying animals zooming past

•shrugging at the rule breakers, you walked to the cafeteria

•you had to pack your own lunch, since it was a magic school and the food was quite inedible for you

•sitting down at a mostly empty table, you began to ate whatever you had brought

•Jihoon at some point had come to sit across from you, and was stealing food from you when you thought he wasn’t looking

•minghao came to the table, three boys in tow as he plopped himself down next to you

•”you could just ask me for some!”

•you were yelling at Jihoon, not actually upset

•”they taste better this way.”

•taking one more bite out of your food, you passed it to Jihoon who winked at you and began to eat, with a fork this time

•turning to minghao and the three males you had never even met before

•”hao, shouldn’t you introduce us?”

•you questioned the blonde teen, who sighed dramatically before pointing at each male

•”werewolf is Mingyu, shapeshifter is Jun, and the centaur is Seokmin, happy?”

•rolling your eyes at the Chinese teen, you waved at the three males

•”I’m y/n, a human, and this food thief is Jihoon, a vampire.”

•you returned the introduction, laughing when you saw Seokmin’s eyes grow wide when you said you were a human

•most people hadn’t met humans, as they live shorter than most others

•laughing as Seokmin’s wide eyes and open mouth, you shook your head

•Jun didn’t care and was trying to mess with minghao, and was very successful 

•Mingyu has sat near where Jihoon was but very far away

•his cheeks were tinted slightly, and he was staring at you his eyes wide, not like seokmin but just noticeably

•looking behind you, you tried to see who he was staring at

•but there wasn’t anyone who stuck out at you, so you turned around

•”I’m going to potions, bye guys.”

•you stood up, waving at the teens, only for minghao to look up at you

•”that’s mingyu’s class, can you take him there? I won’t have time to by the time I finish eating.”

•he glared at Jun, who winked back at him and smirked only for minghao to scoff at him

•”sure? Come on Mingyu.”

•laughing at Jun and Minghao’s antics, you waited for Mingyu to walk with you

•the tall male stood up from the table, and sped walked to where you were

•smiling at him, you waved at the table once more

•and the two of you were on your way

•it was quiet, the awkward kind of quiet

•”what’s it like being a werewolf?”

•asking about specifics like this usually helped pass time, also it was fun to see how people viewed being asked by a human

•”it’s fun! Once I’m of age, I’ll get to lead the pack in their first run. We have a whole festival before, so I get to miss school also!”

•you hadn’t noticed before, but Mingyu had a tail, one that was wagging as he talked

•”that’s cool! You turn into wolves when it’s the full moon, right?”

•you asked, happily learning about Mingyu

•”yeah! We can turn whenever we want but when it’s the full moon we all become wolves.”

•he nodded excitedly as he explained, his eyes shone brightly as he spoke of his pack

•”Mingyu? We’re at potions.”

•you giggled, stopping him before he could bump into the door

•”oops?”

•Mingyu grinned, running his hand they ugh his hair before opening up the door for you

•thanking him, you walked in the classroom

•not surprisingly, only a few teens were there

•sitting down in your seat, you pulled out your books

•when Mingyu walked into the room, he smiled at you, waving at you also

•laughing quietly, you waved back

•

•it had become a daily thing to walk with Mingyu to potions class, and to eat lunch with him

•somehow you had also got his number, and texted him throughout the day

•whether it be about homework or telling him some awful jokes

•Mingyu reacted like your joke were great and was just a good person to be around

•or was that the butterflies in your stomach that were speaking

•yes, around the time you got his number, you worked out that you had a slight crush on the werewolf

•but it was fine

•you were happy with how your relationship was already, you didn’t need it to change

•even if Jihoon kept urging you to tell Mingyu, you stood your ground against the vampire

•(really you just threatened his own crush on Joshua, a faerie, which made him flip you off)

•all was good, you ate lunch with Jihoon, minghao, Jun and Mingyu

•seokmin had sat at a table with three younger boys, but sometimes still came to eat with you guys

•after eating, Mingyu and you would walk to potions

•after school, Mingyu would join you at the park where you studied sometimes

•which is where you were now

•under a willow tree, Mingyu’s head in your lap as you played with his hair

•Mingyu was telling you about how he met minghao, which involves a lot more magic and pillows than you had expected

•running your fingers through his hair, you could hear him nuzzle into your touch, and whimper softly

•making you giggle

•”gyu! Look at the doggo!”

•pointing at a dog who was near the swings, you urged Mingyu to sit up

•”What about him?”

•”I’m gonna go see if they’ll let me pet him.”

•standing up, you walked to where the dog was

•asking the owner if you could let the hellhound, they nodded

•”they’re beautiful, what’s their name?”

•you asked the owner, who you noticed had his own set of horns

•”Soonshim! She’s only half hellhound so she’s smaller than others.”

•the demon smiled, his grin boxy

•”you’re so pretty soonshim!”

•getting up from where you had crouched, you thanked the owner for letting you pet her

•a brief conversation later, you walked back to the willow tree

•where Mingyu was pouting and glaring at soonshim

•”she was so soft, you should’ve come too gyu.”

•sitting back down, you rested your back against the willow tree

•a small growl came from Mingyu, who continued to glare at soonshim

•”Mingyu?”

•you questioned, touching his shoulder gently

•”I’ve gotta go.”

•Mingyu growled, grabbing his backpack, and he ran off

•leaving you sitting there by yourself, wondering what the hell was that

•

•when you went to school the next day, Mingyu wasn’t there

•your walk to potions was too quiet, and there was no one to warn about bumping into things

•or to laugh at your jokes

•so after school, you walked to Mingyu’s house, after getting the address from minghao who didn’t even ask why you needed it

•Mingyu’s house was near a forest, which wasn’t too surprising

•his house had a white fence and it was blue, the grass was cut nicely

•walking up to the front door, you knocked at the door

•someone barked at the door before it opened, a kind lady looking at you

•”hello, I’m y/n. I’m looking for Mingyu, is he here?”

•you asked, smiling at the baby she was carrying 

•”yes! That boy hasn’t been out of his room except to eat lunch. Come in, please.”

•entering the house, you noticed a bunch of chew toys on the floor

•”sorry, Minseok is teething.”

•the woman smiled, her face reminded you of Mingyu’s when he smiled

•”His door is the last one one on the left.”

•thanking her, you walked to the door

•knocking on it, you waited for an answer

•”come in.”

•opening the door, you were surprised to find the room pretty clean

•”Y/N?”

•Mingyu questioned, sitting up in his bed

•”hey gyu.”

•you waved, still standing by the door awkwardly

•”What are you doing here?”

•Mingyu asked, his brown hair was a mess, defying gravity as if it was simple

•”I came to see why you weren’t in school, and ask about the park.”

•you approached where he was sitting and sat down next to him on the bed

•a sigh came from Mingyu, his cheeks were flushed a pink

•”I didn’t wanna go.”

•you could feel his eyes burning holes into the floor

•”and the park?”

•”iwathjealois.”

•looking at him confused, you asked him to repeat what he said

•”I was jealous, I didn’t like that you left me to go pet her.”

•his cheeks were a bright pink that rivaled the brightest shade of of pink paint

•”you were jealous of a dog?”

•you asked, just to make sure

•”yeah? It’s dumb, I know. But I just really like you, and I don’t want you to leave me and I like it when you pet my hair or when you walk with me to potions or when we just hang out at the park or when we are ju-“

•cutting him off, you pressed your lips to his forehead

•”I like you too, gyu.”

•pulling your lips away from his forehead, you were sure your own cheeks were pink

•”really?”

•Mingyu whispered, his eyes wet with unshed tears

•”you’re my favorite pup, gyu. You’ll always be my favorite.”

•you hand rested under his chin, making him look at you 

•Mingyu preened under the praise, a smile on his lips as you began to run your fingers through his hair

•”you’re my favorite human.”

•laughing at Mingyu, you shook your head as the two of you giggled

•pressing your lips to his own, you cut off both of your giggles

•when you went to pull away, it was Mingyu who kissed you this time

•smiling into the kiss, you had your hands on the back of his neck

•

•when the two of you went to school the next day, minghao just winked at the two of you

•Jihoon smirked at the two of you as he stole more of your lunch, and Jun congratulated the two of you before he bothered Mingyu some more

•hearing Mingyu’s laugh when minghao punched jun was nice, but the kiss that you had after was perfect

This gift is for Queen-of-Onions!  From their secret saiyuki santa, Silver aka Junkerfox!  Title: Black Friday Shopping Spree Characters: Gojyo, Hakkai | Platonic Genre: Family, humor, one shot Rating: G ~

Wintertime was always a headache for Gojyo, primarily the fact that it was cold and he had to bundle up so much. Forced to wear layers, freezing his ass off just to get a cigarette, it was a nuisance. Nevertheless he did his best to press on and keep going. Maybe it was just winter blues, but he was sure that winter was his least favorite season. About the only thing that kept him going was the fact that he could at least get some shopping done and maybe flirt with a cute cashier or two. With that in mind, Gojyo set out from his shack and shrugged on his puffy winter coat, just to get his goals accomplished and then come right back to the warmth of a fire and a serious lack of frosty air.

The sound of leaves were crunching under each and every step he took with his boots, and it just sounded like death to him. In his mind, winter was always so boring, so cold, good for snuggling and hot cocoa sure but the weird air of togetherness and family was just something he wasn’t used to dealing with unless he was alongside the merry band of morons. Lost in thought, he hardly realized he was about to walk into one of those very specific merry morons.

“Jeez, and here I thought I was blind!” Said a friendly and familiar voice. Hakkai rang out like a bell, and Gojyo clutched his chest from the startling call out.

“Ah shit, sorry man! Didn’t mean to ah.. What are you doing walking, don’t you have a jeep?” He said with a raised eyebrow, spotting the dragon sitting perched on his shoulders.

“That’s his Christmas gift, he doesn’t have to drive me around anywhere unless he wants to.” Hakkai replied with that fox like grin on his face. His eyes closed and that smile spread across from cheek to cheek, causing Gojyo to roll his eyes a little bit. Continuing on, he had to admit, he really was grateful for the company. He didn’t like having to shop, the only benefit of it was to be able to look at pretty ladies at the check out. In the interest of not wanting to seem daft, he turned to Hakkai as they continued their trek into town, clearing his throat some.

“So I ah, assume you got your Holiday shopping done for the monk and the monkey?” Gojyo raised an eyebrow as he rummaged in his pockets for a smoke and his lighter. It wouldn’t be very polite to smoke in the crowds, so while he had the time, he figured he might as well start the calming experience of nicotine now.

“Well of course, you’d have to be crazy to go out into the crowds this close to the holidays to try and shop.” Hakkai responded to him once more, that sass in his voice yet again. Gojyo couldn’t help but laugh this time, shaking his head. “Nevertheless if you ARE rather crazy to go shopping, the least I can do is be there for emotional support.” He finished off saying, giving the red head a pat on the back.

—

It wasn’t long before they were in town, cheeky comments put aside at last and crowds in every direction. Even being on the taller spectrum, it was hard to navigate around everyone and everything with all the decorations, snow piles, tiny children, you name it about, but Gojyo had a mission. Not be a cheap ass for the holidays. That was when it dawned on him though, and he looked to Hakkai who seemed to have that knowing look once again on his face.

“What the hell do I get for everyone? Is that what you were going to say?” Hakkai asked him politely, folding his hands behind his back, which garnered yet another laugh from Gojyo.

“Alright, alright, you got me there. Seriously though, You would think everyone would be easy to work with after knowing them for so long. It just seems kinda like.. Harder I guess to imagine getting specific shit. Also harder to work without a gold card.” Gojyo shrugged, looking in some storefronts and scratched the back of his head.

Hakkai nodded his head in agreement, knowing exactly what he was talking about, but still wanting to genuinely help his friend as best as he could.

“No I understand, don’t worry. Think of it this way, the fact that you’re trying shows you care. I’m here to help though. Let’s see. Maybe a nice mahjong set for Sanzo? I bet he’d appreciate that. Also for Goku?” A brief pause before they both looked at each other and nodded with sage wisdom.

“Food.”

It wasn’t long before Gojyo was going into a nearby shop and reaching for his wallet, paying for  Sanzo’s gift before realizing his wallet wasn’t actually there. He made a flustered expression, trying a different pocket, then another, then another, before whipping around and looking all around the ground. An older woman grumbled behind him about him holding up the line, when he politely excused himself and ran back outside to ask Hakkai if he’d seen it. Without even being able to say anything, he turned around and looked at something behind the redhead, pointing slowly.

“Well.. now I have.” He said slowly, before Gojyo immediately turned around to see what he was staring out. Down in the street, barely a foot tall, was a small scrappy dog that was wagging its tail excitedly and holding Gojyo’s wallet in its jaws. His eye twitched as Gojyo leaned down to snatch at the dog, and as if knowing exactly what he was up to, the dog growled and jumped back, throwing its head around as if playing with a toy, and scampered off with the wallet. It was hard for Gojyo to actually register that this was happening, and without even a thought, he just tore after the dog, muttering a curse or two under his breath.

Hakkai couldn’t help but laugh, the cartoon hilarity that was ensuing was just pure genius, and after wiping a tear away from the scenario, he tore after Gojyo and the pooch as well, figuring 4 pairs of legs could hopefully catch up with four very fast paws. Darting off in the direction Gojyo went, and apologizing to the people left in the aftermath of the whole experience.

Over trash cans, darting around corners and walls, Gojyo was doing his best to try and catch up to the mutt, gritting and grinding his teeth as he tried to think of a way to cut the pooch off at some corner. Why the hell would it steal his wallet? Much less HOW did it managed to steal it out of his pocket? Was this some masterful new crime wave he just happened to become privy to in the early stages? So many thoughts raced through his head, but what little cash he had left from winning a few prime poker matches was about to be puppy chow and he was not about to be broke Gojyo this soon in the game.

Running down alleyways, sliding into walls unintentionally, leaping over gross items he would rather not know what they were, Gojyo was getting exhausted. As if the cold air he was breathing in wasn’t bad enough, his knees were taking a beating from this. Probably another sign he was getting old, and as he stopped to pause and catch his breath and his barings, he couldn’t help but give an exasperated breath as he looked up to see Hakkai, standing not too far off and holding the miscreant pup in question and the missing wallet.

“Tell me there’s some secret fairy blood in you when it comes to animals?” Gojyo asked Hakkai, panting and standing up slowly to look at spectacle in front of him.

“It’s just my friendly nature! That’s how I got along so well with you after all.” He chimed in, handing the wallet back to Gojyo.

“Oh haha. Thank you very much.” He said, taking the wallet and counting the cash in it to make sure it was all still there. A bit slobbery, but everything seemed to be in there without a cent missing. He looked at the mutt, sighing as he gently scratched behind its ears, garnering a lick on the hand.

“If Goku wasn’t enough of a handful himself I would say that we could keep the little guy. He’s certainly crafty enough, we could name him Gojyo jr!” Hakkai laughed, holding the dog as carefully as a newborn. Gojyo rolled his eyes, smiling some as he began to walk back to the shops, about ready to finally gather up his gifts and head home.

—

After finally having his shopping bags full and grabbing a bite for him, the pooch and Hakkai to eat, the sun was starting to set and it was becoming clear that the mutt had taken a liking to Gojyo. How, he couldn’t quite figure it out, but what a babe magnet the little guy had been. Maybe he’d have to take tips on how to be that irresistible. As both Gojyo and Hakkai were about to get up and start trying to figure out what to do with the dog, a sudden outcry of joy was heard and a young girl came running over to them in a fit of excitement.

“My baby, oh my gosh you guys found my puppy! I thought he got lost forever, I was getting worried with it getting dark and cold!” She cried out, taking the little guy immediately from Hakkai’s arms and being greeted with a wagging tail and plenty of kisses.

Both boys exchanged looks with each other and gave a little shrug before returning to the young lady, who was wiping away tears of joy and relief. It was obvious that even though the dog had been an absolute nuisance to their plans for the day, the pup was harmless and very clearly an important part in her life.

“Please, I have to thank you both somehow! You should come to my house for a holiday feast! Bring your friends, my family always manages to make a big feast for a lot of the lesser fairing folks in town!” She clapped her hands excitedly as she set the dog down. Both a bit taken back, the boys shared a look, then smiled and turned back to the girl.

“Sure, it would be our honor miss! You can count on us and two others to come along.”

“Yeah, we’ll be sure to bring our appetites.” Gojyo said with a chipper tone, not necessarily revealing just how BIG those appetites could be.

As the girl walked off happily, having left her address and such for them, Hakkai leaned in to quietly speak to Gojyo.

“Admit it, this was probably the best shopping trip you’ve ever had.” He said, nudging his elbow into his ribs some.

“Oh yeah, I love having my wallet stolen and being shown up by a tiny, fluffy little menace. The girl was cute though, think I stand a chance?” He said with a laugh, before pulling his coat a little tighter around his body. For now, he just wanted to go home, bundle up, and maybe break into Sanzo’s new mahjong set before actually giving it to him. Hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

“C’mon Hakkai, let’s walk back to my place and thaw out and maybe toast a couple beers to the end of the shopping epidemic.”

“You took the words out of my mouth Gojyo, let’s go. Also maybe next time I’ll just ask Hakuryu for a quick ride when it’s this bitterly cold out.”

Dog Days (DC TV)

Well this exploded on me.

Title: Dog Days Fandom: DC TV Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2261 Characters: Mick, Len, Lisa Summary: Based off this post. They told Mick the dog failed out of the mobility service program for being disobedient and refusing to learn. Mick didn't care, he wasn't in need of a service dog he was just that hard up for company. They told Mick the dog failed out of the mobility service program for being disobedient and refusing to learn, brought to the shelter because the owners kept up a cycle of fostered and training animals. Mick didn't care, he wasn't in need of a service dog- though his therapist would probably approve -he was just that hard up for company. Mick wouldn't have even thought about getting a dog had it not been for his neighbor dying- a crotchety old woman who hated everyone but their landlord, her hairstylist that came to her apartment every two weeks and, inexplicably, Mick. The first time he'd met her Mick had a hankering for his mother's chocolate chip peanut butter cookies only to find part way through the mix that he was half a cup of flour short. So he'd gone to her door to see if she had any to spare and she demanded half the batch as payment. Mick haggled it down to a quarter and she'd liked them so much she gave Mick copies of her family's recipes and would get half the meal in return every time he made them. When she died she left Mick the contents of her storage locker, one of the big, half-garage types. It was mostly full, generally of kitschy things not worth much outside of nostalgia but there were a couple boxes of dog supplies- themed collars, a couple leashes, various kinds of beds, a harness, what seemed like a metric ton of toys and more dog-themed blankets than Mick had of regular ones.

Even then the idea didn't sink in until he mentioned the boxes to his boss. The man had lost a leg during one of the Operation Desert Whatevers though at least he was brought back home to be with his little boy who happened to have been born on the day of his deployment. Soon after he'd bought his son a newborn pup. "So they can grow up together," he told Mick, keeping half an eye on the toddler and puppy as they ran around the waiting area of the garage until an aunt picked them up for a play date. "Hard to beat the loyalty and comfort you get from a good dog," he said before calling to little Jefferson and littler Gray when they chased each other too close to the tire display. So Mick went to a shelter and got himself a dog. A curly coated retriever with black fur and brown eyes and came with the name Leonard which Mick would never admit was part of the reason he got him. He hadn't thought about that name and the corresponding person in almost ten years. Three days later, after Leonard made himself comfortable in the apartment and Mick got him registered at a local vet, Mick was seriously considering renaming him Shithead. It seemed whoever took him out of the service program was only half right in their assessment. Leonard had indeed learned all the tasks, he just did them whenever he felt like it, opening cabinet doors for Mick to bang his shins against at ass crack o'clock in the morning, leaving the kitchen tap running until Mick came home, turning on and off the lights like Mick lived in a damn discotheque. Sure it drove Mick crazy but he also thought it was hilarious and he always appreciated quality trolling. Not to mention the occasions Leonard would jump on the couch and lay his head on Mick's lap, falling asleep to head scratches was a tough thing to give up. Besides, Mick figured out pretty quick that Leonard was less inclined to cause trouble when he had some decent exercise. Running with Mick, mostly, but on his off days they spent a couple hours at a park. Catching frisbees was Leonard's favorite though it was a pretty even chance that he'd bring it back or run off with it. Which was how Mick met that most gorgeous man he'd ever laid eyes on. Leonard had run off with the frisbee but Mick wasn't too worried, headstrong though he was he always came back when Mick whistled. About halfway across the field, something caught Leonard's attention and he dropped the frisbee, trotting off elsewhere. Mick rolled his eyes and jogged out to get the toy. When he picked up the frisbee, Leonard was on his way back holding a book in his mouth. Mick ran toward him, simultaneously horrified and amused that his fucking dog stole from someone. "Leonard!" A man walking on the path looked up, saw Shithead with the book and did a quick check through his bag before giving chase. Thankfully it never took much effort to make Leonard drop things and Mick had already wiped the dog slobber off the well-worn book as the owner came up to him. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, straightening. "He's a bit of a rule breaker." "I'm familiar with the type," the man said and Mick's breath caught. He was just barely Mick's height, hair dusted with gray and very, very blue eyes behind slim silver-framed glasses. Something about the man made Mick want to ask if they met before but he caught the question on the tip of his tongue, wordlessly holding out the book. The man chuckled, tone wry but amused, "Talented dog." "He's full of surprises," Mick heard himself agree distantly. Idly he realized he was trying to memorize the guy's face in hopes he would remember it during the late hours tonight. The man smiled and turned away with what Mick hoped was a lingering look. "Maybe I'll see you around." Mick stared after him as he walked off until Shithead knocked him in the back of the knee with the frisbee. A couple days later Mick learned Leonard figured out how to open the front door by coming home after a half shift and seeing the apartment door wide open. Thankfully Leonard was right in front of it, playing tug of war with a pre-teen girl "Hi!" The girl chirped, giggling as Leonard dragged her a couple inches on her butt down the linoleum hall. "I like your dog!" "Uh." Mick said. "Thanks." Then, "Where do you live?" She pointed next door where the old lady used to be. "Huh. Didn't realize anyone moved in." "Your dog keeps me company until my brother gets back. It's just us two so it can get boring some times." She pulled extra hard on the rope bone and squeaked when Leonard let go, making her fall backward. She threw the bone inside Mick's apartment and Leonard ran in after it. She stood and dusted herself off, giving Mick one last shining smile and a "Bye!" before leaving. The next day Mick installed a deadbolt on his door and while he felt a little twinge of guilt for taking away the girl's after school playmate, he didn't want to risk someone taking advantage of the open door. Mick ran into the man again the following week during his run. Normally on runs Leonard was good at sticking to Mick's side with little deviation. That time, however, Leonard had bolted on ahead and Mick mentally told himself if he didn't see the dog when he rounded the upcoming bend, then he'd worry. Sure enough there was Shithead, reveling in the attention of the gorgeous man who sat on a bench, giving him a good neck scratch. Mick slowed to a stop next to them and the man's eyes widened. Mick tried not to look embarrassed, remembering he wasn't in the shape he used to be and that he didn't have a shirt to cover up the extensive burn scars on his shoulders. "This is your dog?" The man asked as if he didn't remember Leonard stealing his book the week before, voice not quite as smooth as Mick recalled. Mick was suddenly struck with the tentative possibility that maybe the man was staring at him for reasons other than the scars. "Yeah." He still had the suspicion they'd met before. "He suits you." The man sounded a bit more like he had previously, giving Leonard a light shove in Mick's direction. "Pleasure seeing you again, Mick," the man drawled- purred, really, and Mick couldn't help the aroused shiver running down his spine. Trying to think of something to say, Mick blurted out the first thing he could think of that wasn't utterly embarrassing. "How did you know my name?" He smirked. "It's on your dog's license." Mick, a bit appalled at himself for asking such an obvious question, went back to his run with Leonard following after. And so it went over the course of a month or so. Mick would see the man in the park, generally just a figure in the distance he'd spot on occasions but the sporadic times Mick would pass by him on his runs gradually turned into an almost daily occurrence. Mick still sometimes got self-conscious whenever he wondered if he'd see the man, knowing he got red all over when he sweated heavily and not yet entirely used to the way some people would look at his scars. Then Mick would pass him by and the man would give Mick a smirk and a wave and an appreciative once-over and Mick would get self-conscious for entirely different reasons. Basketball shorts did not do the best job of hiding arousal and jogging with a chub was damn uncomfortable. But he'd give a little wave and whistle for Leonard to follow. Meanwhile the girl- Lisa -apparently stalked Mick and would ambush him when he'd take Leonard out for his evening walk for a couple minutes of fawning all over the dog. After a while- having gotten her brother's permission, she said -she started walking with them. Mick even let her hold the leash sometimes between the park and the apartment. Leonard was always on his best behavior with Lisa, the little Shithead. He started wondering- idly, for the moment -if he should give Lisa a spare key to the apartment so she could walk Leonard after she got back from class. Play with him, have someone to keep her company. It'd probably do Shithead a lot of good instead of putting dog and owner in an escalating game of what-needs-to-be-childproofed-this-time every other day. He mulled it over in his head while he showered when Mick suddenly remembered she lived with her brother and Mick had no idea what kind of person he was. C'mon- he let his little sister spend up to an hour at a time with a person he'd never met before, what made the guy so certain Mick wasn't some creep? When Mick got out of the shower he figured he'd go next door in the next day or two and get a feel for the guy before deciding about the key. He wrapped a towel around his waist because, even if he recalled throwing the deadbolt on the front door, the memory of the one time he'd forgotten to and Leonard had opened the door, causing Mick to inadvertently flash the sisters across the hall- who gave him thumbs up and wide grins which was only a marginal boost to his ego, all things considered -was still fresh enough to make him err on the side of caution. Which was good because Leonard apparently also learned to undo a deadbolt, allowing the gorgeous man from the park and Lisa inside his living room with Leonard laying at their feet like this was normal. The man's eyes went dark and wide, ogling Mick appreciatively even as he hand clamped over Lisa's eyes. "Not for your eyes, Lise," he said, licking his lips as his eyes traced the trickle of a stray droplet that Mick was suddenly hyperaware of. "Ugh, Lenny." "You're not even old enough to appreciate this, stop complaining." Mick's eyes narrowed, the niggling sense of familiarity coming back full force. "Wait... Leonard Snart?" The man smirked in that undeniable way that haunted Mick's teenage dreams. "I was wondering if you'd forgotten me." "You moved in next door?" "Serendipitously, yes. Hadn't expected to run into you again after juvie but I'm certainly not complaining." Then, because Mick's life was a fucking romantic comedy, Shithead stole his towel. Mick swore loudly and lunged at Leonard, realizing halfway the dog ran right by Len and out the door and Mick ducked behind the couch instead, head hanging low and flushing bright red all the way down to his shoulders. Len, after letting out a startled bark of laughter, had gallantly turned his head away. Lisa protested as Len put his second hand over her eyes for extra security. Peeking to make sure that Mick was, at least, no longer exposed, his lips curled into the kind of smile that made Mick sink further behind the couch and trying very desperately not to react. "I was going to ask about letting Lisa dogsit for you but, given recent events, we'll just get your wayward dog and let you salvage your dignity. I look forward to seeing more of you later, Mick," he said, eyes trailing deliberately over the parts of Mick he could see. Once the siblings left, Mick went right back into the shower. When Mick and the Snarts moved into a house with an actual yard a year later it was because Leonard only ever behaved for Lisa and totally not because Mick wanted to spend the rest of his life spoiling her and making Len happy. --- Some details that didn't make it in: -by the time Leonard stole the book, Len and Lisa had moved next door and Leonard recognized the scent -Mick's a medically discharged firefighter and works at a garage that Jax's father owns for the last three years -due to injury Mick is no longer able to lift over a certain amount over his head -Jax adores Mick and Mick is somewhat terrified by this -the vet is Kendra who took it over after Amaya retired (though she still stops by with her granddaughter) -the sisters are Laurel and Sara -Len's a structural engineer/architect and is Ray's first choice in designing Palmer Tech buildings -after juvie both Len and Mick went straight -Len's book is Ursula Le Guin's Left Hand of Darkness -Lewis is dead and Len has custody of Lisa -Len totally stalked Mick's jogging route when he realized the hot guy was also the one that saved him in juvie who he had the biggest fucking crush on -the nickname Shithead is a reference to the Steve Martin movie The Jerk -Mick's pyromania is more lowkey in this 'verse and Leonard knows to break him out of a trance if mick stares at fire too long -part of the reason Mick didn't want to give Leonard back at first is because he knew most people wouldn't give troublemakers a chance or put up with his quirks

OFFICIAL DATA FROM THE NEW REGIME…   SEALED FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.                                                (   LOADING PROFILE OF N°. 2024, HANG HYOJUN.   )

(   TRIGGER WARNING. VIOLENCE, TERMINAL ILLNESS.   )

there are those who would fancy him a tragic figure, marred by death and poisoned young by an unforgiving world, and there are those who would think he’d laugh in their faces and drink their shock like an elixir. there’s a certain kind of power to be found in rumors, as if he’s half a myth, half a god, and he neither encourages nor stifles them, for there are only two people in the world who are worthy of knowing what he’s truly capable of - himself, and whatever higher power there was - if it was the high priestess herself or lord voldemort or a god remained to be seen.

the story of rome’s creation began with two brothers, and so too will this one.

they were twins, him and jiho, unwanted, helpless, red-faced and squirming, left to the mercy of the elements or a wild animal’s maul or a passing truck, two tiny babes swaddled and shoved into one wicker basket in the middle of a quiet road, some yards away from the estate of a prominent wizarding family, their blankets carrying the family’s emblem - a bold statement in silence. ‘they were once ours, but no more.’ ‘magical they are, but it’ll not be enough.’ or perhaps the emblem was a result of the family’s servants who pitied the twins and wanted them to fight a standing chance in a world that loved their purity. hyojun never learned what it was about them that spurred their biological family to leave them to die - perhaps they were illegitimate. perhaps they were unnecessary. fortune smiled upon them, however, in the form of a wandering werewolf who happened to stumble upon the basket. something, perhaps humanity, compelled the werewolf hold the babes close to their chest and take them to their makeshift home, a little hovel far from the eyes of proper, polite company, modest in space and possession, but more than enough for a pair of unfortunate souls lucky to be born, lucky to be alive. the werewolf, who never gives their name for all the five years the twins are in their company (they resort to calling them ‘lupe’ - easier to say than ‘wolf’) teaches them how to embrace the ferality they were condemned to - how to survive. they learn how to steal and con and beg, although it is hyojun who excels at conning and compelling his victims into trusting his sweet face and it is jiho who is particularly adept in sleight of hand. their earnings are meager but enough, and for street urchins enough should be enough, jiho says, but some men were born with a taste for more.

just as romulus and remus had faustulus, hyojun and jiho have hang chanwoo, their shepherd in white. a pureblood who came from old wealth with no legitimate heirs, he saw two pups to train in the beggar pair panhandling outside a wizarding clothing shop and swept them up without a word. they hadn’t resisted. their lupe was long gone ever since they could fend for themselves, a fact they took without much bitterness - they hadn’t asked for a parent and neither was the lupe pretending to be one. just as the children were raised to embrace their ferality, now they were taught to wash it off, to shine pristine - unbeknownst to anyone but himself, the darkness hyojun had learned to nurse as an urchin carried into his newfound life as a protege. he learns to talk like silver instead of brass, learns to polish his veneer into glass but clouded with intrigue and mystery all the same. impenetrable, indecipherable.

both hyojun and jiho thrive at the basilica, stepping into their roles seamlessly, but their father, their shepherd, is quick to remind them of one thing: “there will only be one heir.” he doesn’t specify what will happen to the brother who isn’t chosen - will he be cast aside? stripped of the family name? there is no doubt old hang chanwoo said it with every intention to stir up competition between the twins, and hyojun loathed how much weight the man hefted onto inheriting, as if the two of them were lucky to be alive, lucky to be chosen, lucky to fight for their livelihood. poison curdled on his tongue but he kept quiet - patience would be his art. if anything were to come from this, it would be his own willing - hang chanwoo would learn that quickly enough. the weak had no place telling the strong what would or would not be bequeathed to them - the weak inherited nothing but their own arrogance.

he studied hard, socialized well at basilica, ingratiated himself in the most prominent student circles, and quickly became noted for his ingenuity and leadership, his aspirations of reaching the top of the knights of the covenant well known among his peers. jiho, in all his virtue, wasn’t terribly affected by ambition nor hang chanwoo’s words and was content to have hyojun have his limelight and the wealth their guardian promised - hyojun supposes if there’s anyone in the world worthy of his mercy, it would be his twin.

hang chanwoo, however, earns nothing but hyojun’s ire, painted silvery and slick and easily mistaken for cordiality. the arrogant are far too easy to lull into a sense of safety and they mistake their throne of sand to be made of marble. hang chanwoo is an idiot. soon after graduating and landing a job with the covenant, hyojun begins work on inventing his first and only spell - slow and winding, it’s a dark incantation meant to act like poison, inconspicuous and nearly indetectable. cast it when they’re unaware, and it slowly erodes at their insides until their organs are as good as dry dust. he tells no one that he cast it on hang chanwoo while he was sleeping, feigns innocence as the man’s health begins to detoriate. ‘it must be pneumonia, father,’ he says, his voice honey-sweet and thick with concern. ‘you do enjoy the cool weather too much for your own good.’ hang chanwoo worsens, and perhaps he has the mind to realize he’s not long for the world - the time comes to pick an heir, another chance for their guardian to remind the twins they were never truly his, that they’re as good as dancing monkeys with tinging cymbals at play for his own amusement. ‘my successor,’ he declares after a wracking cough, ‘will be the last man standing.’

jiho has never wanted this. he says as much, demands hang chanwoo to stop his idiocy and crawl back into bed, but hang chanwoo juts his wand at him wordlessly. his threat doesn’t need to be said for jiho to understand, and hyojun watches as the boy grits his teeth, fights with himself as to whether or not he should turn to face hyojun or remain seething - and he makes the choice for him.

with a quiet incantation and a flick of his wand behind his brother’s back, hyojun sends jiho across the room and slams him into a statue, both of them crumbling to the ground. hyojun does it once more for good measure, until he’s sure jiho’s unconscious, his twin’s chest slowly rising as his mouth falls agape, eyes blank. hang chanwoo stands and claps as if he were a boy again at a quidditch game - and he collapses, dead and as cold as his marble floor. hyojun obliviates jiho, makes him forget his brother betrayed him, that they were even pitted against each other by a mad king, that they were even brothers at all. to the boy’s knowledge, he was born in a well-to-do pureblood family as the only child, pampered and spoiled and loved and living as well as he could before he was attacked by a werewolf, hyojun says when he takes him to the hospital, ‘but no bites and no scratches, as if the lupe was toying with him, batting him around. poor thing was a moaning mess when i’d found him’. this is hyojun’s mercy. it is neither soft nor selfless, but it’s all he can offer his only family.

he is the sole monarch to the hang name, a brazen shadow who, despite having never known glamour or prominence, draws the eye as potently as a diamond. there’s a fearsome draw to his charisma, a knife whose pristine gleam speaks to how often it’s cleaned, he is unshakeable, immovable, but driven by ambition and all the more dangerous for it. he lived, he survived, and now, he thrives - this umbra universe was made for men like him. conquerors. kings. emperors.

Eddard

Through the high narrow windows of the Red Keep's cavernous throne room, the light of sunset spilled across the floor, laying dark red stripes upon the walls where the heads of dragons had once hung. Now the stone was covered with hunting tapestries, vivid with greens and browns and blues, and yet still it seemed to Ned Stark that the only color in the hall was the red of blood. He sat high upon the immense ancient seat of Aegon the Conqueror, an ironwork monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and grotesquely twisted metal. It was, as Robert had warned him, a hellishly uncomfortable chair, and never more so than now, with his shattered leg throbbing more sharply every minute. The metal beneath him had grown harder by the hour, and the fanged steel behind made it impossible to lean back. A king should never sit easy, Aegon the Conqueror had said, when he commanded his armorers to forge a great seat from the swords laid down by his enemies. Damn Aegon for his arrogance, Ned thought sullenly, and damn Robert and his hunting as well. "You are quite certain these were more than brigands?" Varys asked softly from the council table beneath the throne. Grand Maester Pycelle stirred uneasily beside him, while Littlefinger toyed with a pen. They were the only councillors in attendance. A white hart had been sighted in the kingswood, and Lord Renly and Ser Barristan had joined the king to hunt it, along with Prince Joffrey, Sandor Clegane, Balon Swann, and half the court. So Ned must needs sit the Iron Throne in his absence. At least he could sit. Save the council, the rest must stand respectfully, or kneel. The petitioners clustered near the tall doors, the knights and high lords and ladies beneath the tapestries, the smallfolk in the gallery, the mailed guards in their cloaks, gold or grey: all stood. The villagers were kneeling: men, women, and children, alike tattered and bloody, their faces drawn by fear. The three knights who had brought them here to bear witness stood behind them. "Brigands, Lord Varys?" Ser Raymun Darry's voice dripped scorn. "Oh, they were brigands, beyond a doubt. Lannister brigands." Ned could feel the unease in the hall, as high lords and servants alike strained to listen. He could not pretend to surprise. The west had been a tinderbox since Catelyn had seized Tyrion Lannister. Both Riverrun and Casterly Rock had called their banners, and armies were massing in the pass below the Golden Tooth. It had only been a matter of time until the blood began to flow. The sole question that remained was how best to stanch the wound. Sad-eyed Ser Karyl Vance, who would have been handsome but for the winestain birthmark that discolored his face, gestured at the kneeling villagers. "This is all the remains of the holdfast of Sherrer, Lord Eddard. The rest are dead, along with the people of Wendish Town and the Mummer's Ford." "Rise," Ned commanded the villagers. He never trusted what a man told him from his knees. "All of you, up." In ones and twos, the holdfast of Sherrer struggled to its feet. One ancient needed to be helped, and a young girl in a bloody dress stayed on her knees, staring blankly at Ser Arys Oakheart, who stood by the foot of the throne in the white armor of the Kingsguard, ready to protect and defend the king . . . or, Ned supposed, the King's Hand. "Joss," Ser Raymun Darry said to a plump balding man in a brewer's apron. "Tell the Hand what happened at Sherrer." Joss nodded. "If it please His Grace—" "His Grace is hunting across the Blackwater," Ned said, wondering how a man could live his whole life a few days ride from the Red Keep and still have no notion what his king looked like. Ned was clad in a white linen doublet with the direwolf of Stark on the breast; his black wool cloak was fastened at the collar by his silver hand of office. Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth. "I am Lord Eddard Stark, the King's Hand. Tell me who you are and what you know of these raiders." "I keep . . . I kept . . . I kept an alehouse, m'lord, in Sherrer, by the stone bridge. The finest ale south of the Neck, everyone said so, begging your pardons, m'lord. It's gone now like all the rest, m'lord. They come and drank their fill and spilled the rest before they fired my roof, and they would of spilled my blood too, if they'd caught me. M'lord." "They burnt us out," a farmer beside him said. "Come riding in the dark, up from the south, and fired the fields and the houses alike, killing them as tried to stop them. They weren't no raiders, though, m'lord. They had no mind to steal our stock, not these, they butchered my milk cow where she stood and left her for the flies and the crows." "They rode down my 'prentice boy," said a squat man with a smith's muscles and a bandage around his head. He had put on his finest clothes to come to court, but his breeches were patched, his cloak travel-stained and dusty. "Chased him back and forth across the fields on their horses, poking at him with their lances like it was a game, them laughing and the boy stumbling and screaming till the big one pierced him clean through." The girl on her knees craned her head up at Ned, high above her on the throne. "They killed my mother too, Your Grace. And they . . . they . . . " Her voice trailed off, as if she had forgotten what she was about to say. She began to sob. Ser Raymun Darry took up the tale. "At Wendish Town, the people sought shelter in their holdfast, but the walls were timbered. The raiders piled straw against the wood and burnt them all alive. When the Wendish folk opened their gates to flee the fire, they shot them down with arrows as they came running out, even women with suckling babes." "Oh, dreadful," murmured Varys. "How cruel can men be?" "They would of done the same for us, but the Sherrer holdfast's made of stone," Joss said. "Some wanted to smoke us out, but the big one said there was riper fruit upriver, and they made for the Mummer's Ford." Ned could feel cold steel against his fingers as he leaned forward. Between each finger was a blade, the points of twisted swords fanning out like talons from arms of the throne. Even after three centuries, some were still sharp enough to cut. The Iron Throne was full of traps for the unwary. The songs said it had taken a thousand blades to make it, heated white-hot in the furnace breath of Balerion the Black Dread. The hammering had taken fifty-nine days. The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal; a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed. What Eddard Stark was doing sitting there he would never comprehend, yet there he sat, and these people looked to him for justice. "What proof do you have that these were Lannisters?" he asked, trying to keep his fury under control. "Did they wear crimson cloaks or fly a lion banner?" "Even Lannisters are not so blind stupid as that," Ser Marq Piper snapped. He was a swaggering bantam rooster of a youth, too young and too hot-blooded for Ned's taste, though a fast friend of Catelyn's brother, Edmure Tully. "Every man among them was mounted and mailed, my lord," Ser Karyl answered calmly. "They were armed with steel-tipped lances and longswords, with battle-axes for the butchering." He gestured toward one of the ragged survivors. "You. Yes, you, no one's going to hurt you. Tell the Hand what you told me." The old man bobbed his head. "Concerning their horses," he said, "it were warhorses they rode. Many a year I worked in old Ser Willum's stables, so I knows the difference. Not a one of these ever pulled a plow, gods bear witness if I'm wrong." "Well-mounted brigands," observed Littlefinger. "Perhaps they stole the horses from the last place they raided." "How many men were there in this raiding party?" Ned asked. "A hundred, at the least," Joss answered, in the same instant as the bandaged smith said, "Fifty," and the grandmother behind him, "Hunnerds and hunnerds, m'lord, an army they was." "You are more right than you know, goodwoman," Lord Eddard told her. "You say they flew no banners. What of the armor they wore? Did any of you note ornaments or decorations, devices on shield or helm?" The brewer, Joss, shook his head. "It grieves me, m'lord, but no, the armor they showed us was plain, only . . . the one who led them, he was armored like the rest, but there was no mistaking him all the same. It was the size of him, m'lord. Those as say the giants are all dead never saw this one, I swear. Big as an ox he was, and a voice like stone breaking." "The Mountain!" Ser Marq said loudly. "Can any man doubt it? This was Gregor Clegane's work." Ned heard muttering from beneath the windows and the far end of the hall. Even in the galley, nervous whispers were exchanged. High lords and smallfolk alike knew what it could mean if Ser Marq was proved right. Ser Gregor Clegane stood bannerman to Lord Tywin Lannister. He studied the frightened faces of the villagers. Small wonder they had been so fearful; they had thought they were being dragged here to name Lord Tywin a red-handed butcher before a king who was his son by marriage. He wondered if the knights had given them a choice. Grand Maester Pycelle rose ponderously from the council table, his chain of office clinking. "Ser Marq, with respect, you cannot know that this outlaw was Ser Gregor. There are many large men in the realm." "As large as the Mountain That Rides?" Ser Karyl said. "I have never met one." "Nor has any man here," Ser Raymun added hotly. "Even his brother is a pup beside him. My lords, open your eyes. Do you need to see his seal on the corpses? It was Gregor." "Why should Ser Gregor turn brigand?" Pycelle asked. "By the grace of his liege lord, he holds a stout keep and lands of his own. The man is an anointed knight." "A false knight!" Ser Marq said. "Lord Tywin's mad dog." "My lord Hand," Pycelle declared in a stiff voice, "I urge you to remind this good knight that Lord Tywin Lannister is the father of our own gracious queen." "Thank you, Grand Maester Pycelle," Ned said. "I fear we might have forgotten that if you had not pointed it out." From his vantage point atop the throne, he could see men slipping out the door at the far end of the hall. Hares going to ground, he supposed . . . or rats off to nibble the queen's cheese. He caught a glimpse of Septa Mordane in the gallery, with his daughter Sansa beside her. Ned felt a flash of anger; this was no place for a girl. But the septa could not have known that today's court would be anything but the usual tedious business of hearing petitions, settling disputes between rival holdfasts, and adjudicating the placement of boundary stones. At the council table below, Petyr Baelish lost interest in his quill and leaned forward. "Ser Marq, Ser Karyl, Ser Raymun—perhaps I might ask you a question? These holdfasts were under your protection. Where were you when all this slaughtering and burning was going on?" Ser Karyl Vance answered. "I was attending my lord father in the pass below the Golden Tooth, as was Ser Marq. When the word of these outrages reached Ser Edmure Tully, he sent word that we should take a small force of men to find what survivors we could and bring them to the king." Ser Raymun Darry spoke up. "Ser Edmure had summoned me to Riverrun with all my strength. I was camped across the river from his walls, awaiting his commands, when the word reached me. By the time I could return to my own lands, Clegane and his vermin were back across the Red Fork, riding for Lannister's hills." Littlefinger stroked the point of his beard thoughtfully. "And if they come again, ser?" "If they come again, we'll use their blood to water the fields they burnt," Ser Marq Piper declared hotly. "Ser Edmure has sent men to every village and holdfast within a day's ride of the border," Ser Karyl explained. "The next raider will not have such an easy time of it." And that may be precisely what Lord Tywin wants, Ned thought to himself, to bleed off strength from Riverrun, goad the boy into scattering his swords. His wife's brother was young, and more gallant than wise. He would try to hold every inch of his soil, to defend every man, woman, and child who named him lord, and Tywin Lannister was shrewd enough to know that. "If your fields and holdfasts are safe from harm," Lord Petyr was saying, "what then do you ask of the throne?" "The lords of the Trident keep the king's peace," Ser Raymun Darry said. "The Lannisters have broken it. We ask leave to answer them, steel for steel. We ask justice for the smallfolk of Sherrer and Wendish Town and the Mummer's Ford." "Edmure agrees, we must pay Gregor Clegane back his bloody coin," Ser Marq declared, "but old Lord Hoster commanded us to come here and beg the king's leave before we strike." Thank the gods for old Lord Hoster, then. Tywin Lannister was as much fox as lion. If indeed he'd sent Ser Gregor to burn and pillage—and Ned did not doubt that he had—he'd taken care to see that he rode under cover of night, without banners, in the guise of a common brigand. Should Riverrun strike back, Cersei and her father would insist that it had been the Tullys who broke the king's peace, not the Lannisters. The gods only knew what Robert would believe. Grand Maester Pycelle was on his feet again. "My lord Hand, if these good folk believe that Ser Gregor has forsaken his holy vows for plunder and rape, let them go to his liege lord and make their complaint. These crimes are no concern of the throne. Let them seek Lord Tywin's justice." "It is all the king's justice," Ned told him. "North, south, east, or west, all we do we do in Robert's name." "The king's justice," Grand Maester Pycelle said. "So it is, and so we should defer this matter until the king—" "The king is hunting across the river and may not return for days," Lord Eddard said. "Robert bid me to sit here in his place, to listen with his ears, and to speak with his voice. I mean to do just that . . . though I agree that he must be told." He saw a familiar face beneath the tapestries. "Ser Robar." Ser Robar Royce stepped forward and bowed. "My lord." "Your father is hunting with the king," Ned said. "Will you bring them word of what was said and done here today?" "At once, my lord." "Do we have your leave to take our vengeance against Ser Gregor, then?" Marq Piper asked the throne. "Vengeance?" Ned said. "I thought we were speaking of justice. Burning Clegane's fields and slaughtering his people will not restore the king's peace, only your injured pride." He glanced away before the young knight could voice his outraged protest, and addressed the villagers. "People of Sherrer, I cannot give you back your homes or your crops, nor can I restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you some small measure of justice, in the name of our king, Robert." Every eye in the hall was fixed on him, waiting. Slowly Ned struggled to his feet, pushing himself up from the throne with the strength of his arms, his shattered leg screaming inside its cast. He did his best to ignore the pain; it was no moment to let them see his weakness. "The First Men believed that the judge who called for death should wield the sword, and in the north we hold to that still. I mislike sending another to do my killing . . . yet it seems I have no choice." He gestured at his broken leg. "Lord Eddard!" The shout came from the west side of the hall as a handsome stripling of a boy strode forth boldly. Out of his armor, Ser Loras Tyrell looked even younger than his sixteen years. He wore pale blue silk, his belt a linked chain of golden roses, the sigil of his House. "I beg you the honor of acting in your place. Give this task to me, my lord, and I swear I shall not fail you." Littlefinger chuckled. "Ser Loras, if we send you off alone, Ser Gregor will send us back your head with a plum stuffed in that pretty mouth of yours. The Mountain is not the sort to bend his neck to any man's justice." "I do not fear Gregor Clegane," Ser Loras said haughtily. Ned eased himself slowly back onto the hard iron seat of Aegon's misshapen throne. His eyes searched the faces along the wall. "Lord Beric," he called out. "Thoros of Myr. Ser Gladden. Lord Lothar." The men named stepped forward one by one. "Each of you is to assemble twenty men, to bring my word to Gregor's keep. Twenty of my own guards shall go with you. Lord Beric Dondarrion, you shall have the command, as befits your rank." The young lord with the red-gold hair bowed. "As you command, Lord Eddard." Ned raised his voice, so it carried to the far end of the throne room. "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, his Hand, I charge you to ride to the westlands with all haste, to cross the Red Fork of the Trident under the king's flag, and there bring the king's justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane, and to all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him, and strip him of all rank and titles, of all lands and incomes and holdings, and do sentence him to death. May the gods take pity on his soul." When the echo of his words had died away, the Knight of Flowers seemed perplexed. "Lord Eddard, what of me?" Ned looked down on him. From on high, Loras Tyrell seemed almost as young as Robb. "No one doubts your valor, Ser Loras, but we are about justice here, and what you seek is vengeance." He looked back to Lord Beric. "Ride at first light. These things are best done quickly." He held up a hand. "The throne will hear no more petitions today." Alyn and Porther climbed the steep iron steps to help him back down. As they made their descent, he could feel Loras Tyrell's sullen stare, but the boy had stalked away before Ned reached the floor of the throne room. At the base of the Iron Throne, Varys was gathering papers from the council table. Littlefinger and Grand Maester Pycelle had already taken their leave. "You are a bolder man than I, my lord," the eunuch said softly. "How so, Lord Varys?" Ned asked brusquely. His leg was throbbing, and he was in no mood for word games. "Had it been me up there, I should have sent Ser Loras. He so wanted to go . . . and a man who has the Lannisters for his enemies would do well to make the Tyrells his friends." "Ser Loras is young," said Ned. "I daresay he will outgrow the disappointment." "And Ser Ilyn?" The eunuch stroked a plump, powdered cheek. "He is the King's Justice, after all. Sending other men to do his office . . . some might construe that as a grave insult." "No slight was intended." In truth, Ned did not trust the mute knight, though perhaps that was only because he misliked executioners. "I remind you, the Paynes are bannermen to House Lannister. I thought it best to choose men who owed Lord Tywin no fealty." "Very prudent, no doubt," Varys said. "Still, I chanced to see Ser Ilyn in the back of the hall, staring at us with those pale eyes of his, and I must say, he did not look pleased, though to be sure it is hard to tell with our silent knight. I hope he outgrows his disappointment as well. He does so love his work . . . "