#also I love how the first time I ever drew hands semi-successfully was for….this

[barbreypilled]

shifts to the Brontëverse to give her a 4loko (original recipe) and a gun

[gaygent37]

for the prompts: jaydick - the deal pt 2? Maybe something like, one month Dick doesn't show up, so Jason goes to Dick's house, only to find Dick lured him there. Dick is only wearing panties or a shibari dress and Jason likeeeeeees~~~~ that very much ;)

The Game

also on AO3

The moon was full and bright in the cloudless night sky. The woods were deathly quiet on these particular nights because larger, more dangerous predators were often afoot.

The nearby town had also settled down, the last of the night owls finally heading to bed. It seemed like another, normal full moon.

But it was not.

The wolf had been prowling the woods for hours now, sniffing the air everywhere he went in hopes of catching the hunter’s scent, but the woods were completely free of any trace of Dick’s smell.

As the night drew on, Jason’s wolf became more and more agitated, needing to free its energy somehow - either sexually, which Jason greatly preferred, or his wolf would go tearing through the woods and snapping up as many unfortunate little critters as it could.

Jason unwillingly drew closer and closer towards the town, trying to catch any hint of Dick’s scent. It was the full moon. Dick was supposed to be out hunting him! That was their deal, and yet, it was the hunter who broke it first. Jason walked silently along the edge of the woods, his nose twitching as he tried sorting through all the other unpleasant human scents to find Dick's, which was infinitely better smelling.

And finally, he caught it. Immediately, he started following. When he confirmed that it was Dick's scent, and it was definitely getting stronger, he set off at a sprint. His powerful legs brought him all the way to the edge of town to a cabin where Dick was temporarily (semi-permanently) staying, courtesy of the town’s generous mayor, of course. 

Jason circled around the cabin several times, growling quietly. Dick was definitely inside, he could smell him. And Dick smelled especially good tonight, since he had kept Jason waiting for him.

Jason bared his teeth and leaped at the wooden door, crashing through very easily, seeing that it was not actually closed all the way. Jason immediately barged into the bedroom, ready to tackle and take Dick right where he stood, but he froze, crouched and ready to pounce.

“You’re late,” Dick said, laid out on the bed like he had been waiting for Jason. He wore nothing but a pair of thin, blue panties. They were sheer and hid nothing from Jason's heightened vision. Dick pouted. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

Jason growled at him in confusion. The room was set up with dim candles flickering and casting their romantic glow, and rose petals were elegantly spilled everywhere.

Dick smiled and beckoned to Jason with a finger. He lay down slowly, stretching out so Jason could see every inch of him. 

And shit, if Dick did not look absolutely ravishing.

Jason stepped closer, hesitantly. He sniffed the bed sheets Dick was spread so prettily on. They were newly washed with lavender detergent. Then, he nosed between Dick’s legs, which opened wider in invitation. 

Up close, the panties did something to Jason. He could see the way the sheer fabric cupped Dick's amazing ass, and how it could barely keep Dick's half-hard cock from peeking over the top. He had only ever seen Dick in hunting gear, even on the rare occasions that Dick ventured into town on a non-full-moon days. And when they met in the woods, Dick’s clothes were all torn off anyway. 

Now, in somewhat proper lighting, with Dick willingly showing him everything, Dick was absolutely beautiful. His body was slim with just the right balance of firm muscles and soft curves.

Jason felt immensely satisfied. He had finally gotten through to his hunter. He jumped onto the bed delicately, the poor thing groaning under the weight of a giant wolf. Dick, on the other hand, did not even flinch. He smiled and gently rubbed the fur on Jason’s chest. Jason felt the slightest urge to roll over and let himself be pet like some overgrown dog.

“Well? Do you like it?” Dick asked. “I picked it out especially with you in mind. Thought it’d be all around nicer for both of us if we just dropped the charade. And I won’t have bruised knees and hands for a week. And actually have wearable clothes,” Dick said with a small laugh.

Jason nuzzled Dick under the chin, agreeing wholeheartedly. He was so glad that Dick was coming around.

With some effort, since his wolf wanted more pets, Jason transformed for the first time in front of Dick. Dick’s eyes widened when fur gave way to smooth, hard flesh.

Jason smirked down at Dick. “Glad you’re finally seeing things my way, Dickiebird.”

Dick just smiled at him. He touched Jason’s face, pulling him down for a kiss. Jason hummed, still smiling at Dick’s eagerness. As their tongues danced and lips embraced, Jason slipped his hands down Dick's body and into Dick’s panties. He loved the feeling of having silky fabric against the back of his hands and the supple flesh of Dick’s ass under his hands.

“Wonder what I did to change your mind,” Jason said, pulling back for a second. “Doesn't matter though because I’m going to make you mine tonight, Dickiebird.”

“Please, Jay,” Dick whispered coyly and smiling wider. “Make me yours.”

And with that, Jason finally let his wolf go. He ripped the panties in half, throwing the thing across the room. He surged down and kissed Dick again, roughly this time. 

Dick moaned and arched up into the kiss, responding like he never had before. Jason kissed him for a few more seconds before the urge to mark Dick anew grew too strong. His canines scraped down the sensitive parts of Dick’s neck, making the hunter shiver under Jason’s touches. 

Jason also pushed in two fingers into Dick’s ass, grinning and nipping at Dick’s collarbone when he found that Dick had lubed and stretched himself. 

“Such a good boy for me,” Jason whispered. “See? I knew you’d fall for me someday. I could see it in your eyes the whole time,” he laughed. “The hunter becoming weak and submissive for his prey.”

Jason bit down on Dick’s neck, letting his teeth dent the skin enough for it to bruise. Then, he eased up on the pressure and licked it over and over again, enjoying the way Dick came alive under the ministrations.

“Jason...” Dick said breathlessly. “I need you to fuck me.”

Jason had been raging hard the second he saw Dick lying there in those panties. “Happy to oblige, my pretty birdie.”

He grabbed his thick cock, stroking it slowly for Dick to see. Then, he used his other hand to hoist Dick’s hips up, pulling him forward and aligning them with his own. 

In one smooth movement, he slid into Dick’s warm hole. He bit back a groan, but Dick moaned openly, something he never did. 

“You like that feeling, Dickie?” Jason smirked, feeling incredibly smug. “Being so full of my thick cock, knowing you’re going to get an even bigger knot, and you’ll end up bulging with my cum?”

Dick gave another breathy moan, shivering at the thought.

“You’re such a little slut for my cock, aren’t you, Dickie?” Jason asked, giving a shallow thrust into Dick’s warmth. It was hard to hold back, but he wanted to tease Dick more. “Tell me.”

Dick needed no prompting. “I’m a little slut for your cock, Jason! I’m a slutty little hunter who needs to be fucked right now!”

Jason obliged, snapping his hips sharply, jabbing his cock right into Dick’s prostate.

“Fuck, yes!” Dick moaned loudly.

Jason leaned over and started kissing up Dick’s neck again, sucking hickies everywhere he could. He was definitely going to parade Dick around town tomorrow so everyone knew who his little hunter belonged to.

Now that Jason had successfully seduced Dick and was currently reaping its rewards, he needed a new game to play. A low rumble of a growl left his throat as a new idea started to form. His fucked into Dick even faster, a clear sign that his wolf loved the idea too.

He would get Dick to want him so much that Dick was willing to turn his back on werewolf hunting and take the bite. Then, he was going to make Dick his mate, and he was going to mate the hell out of him. 

He was fucking Dick so fast it was almost frantic now. His eyes were pinned on Dick’s, watching as his future mate reached closer and closer to his climax. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, one hand strangling his sheets and the other digging into Jason's back.

“Ja-a-a-son!” Dick screamed when he came, his voice shaking like he was using a jackhammer. More like being fucked with one. Dick’s hole clamped down on Jason’s cock, sending pulses of pleasure up Jason’s spine. 

Jason bit down on Dick’s neck again, eliciting another scream of pain-pleasure, and plunged his knot deep into Dick. 

When he locked in, Jason felt so satisfied. Next time he did this, it would be his mate under him - changed, marked, and mated. He was sure of it. His knot swelled even bigger at that thought.

Unconsciously, Jason put a hand onto Dick’s stomach, caressing it with a fond smile on his face. He pressed a light kiss to Dick’s jaw, still a bit lost in his daydream.

“Baby,” Jason murmured. “You’re so fucking good to me. So happy you came around.”

Dick gave a breathless laugh. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said.

Then, Jason felt the cold metal barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. His body was too blissed out to even tense up immediately. He continued to lay on top of Dick. He did see Dick’s frown through half-lidded eyes though.

“I’ve got a fucking gun pressed to your head and you’re still cumming in me?” Dick asked, more in awe than disgust.

“Shh,” Jason said contently. “I’m thinking about getting you knocked up. You’re ruining the daydream.”

“Are you delusional?” Dick asked, waving his other hand around. “I'm a man! And I’ve got a gun-”

“You won’t shoot me,” Jason cut off with a smile. “You love it when I fuck you. Crave it even. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have lured me all the way to your room, set up this romantic scene, and let me take you in your own bed.”

“I- but- it’s- that was all part of the trap, Jason!”

“Or was it because you wanted me to take you in a romantic setting?” Jason asked. "Sounds like a date, birdie."

Dick let out a very frustrated noise. “Why are you so infuriating?! I wasn’t trying to seduce you! Get over yourself!”

“You’re the one who needs to get over his denial, Dickiebird,” Jason said, a bit more seriously.

“I’m not in denial! And you’re not succeeding in distracting me! I’m still going to shoot you.”

Jason just smirked. “Sure thing, birdie.”

Dick gave another frustrated yell and stabbed Jason in the arm with a tranquilizer he had grabbed with his free hand. “Just shut the hell up,” he grumbled, tossing the gun aside. The gun's safety was still on anyway.

Jason chuckled quietly as the tranquilizer started working. It was an instant formula Dick spent many months perfecting. “Shoulda... done that... after... my knot popped outta you...”

There was a few seconds of silence as the situation dawned on Dick.

“Fuck!” Dick yelled. 

He gave Jason’s unconscious body a shove, but Jason did not move. And the damn wolf was still cumming inside him.

His alarm clock did not go off. 

Dick sat up with a gasp, knowing something was very wrong from how bright the sunlight outside his window was. He was also alone in bed, still naked, but clean now.

Outside his bedroom, Dick could hear movement - very loud movement. Someone was moving around the kitchen and bellowing the Titanic theme at the top of their lungs. Dick slid out of bed, his legs still shaky as he tried to piece together what had gone wrong. 

He was not supposed to fall asleep, and Jason was definitely not supposed to be awake. The tranquilizer was strong enough to knock out any human for at least 24 hours. Dick knew because he tried it on himself several times.

Dick stumbled his way out of the bedroom after tugging on a pair of pants he found lying around.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Jason said with a smile. “I made breakfast. Your fridge was dreadfully empty, so I went to the store before you woke up. I made an omelet with all the fixings. Hey, why so down?”

Jason came over and took Dick’s face into his hands, turning it up towards him. He felt Dick's forehead.

“You don’t have a fever,” Jason said.

“Did you drug me?” Dick asked flatly.

“Ah, it’s about that,” Jason said with a laugh. “No, I didn’t drug you. You fell asleep, and I woke up after you drugged me. And as to why your little tranquilizer didn’t work as long as you wanted it to, I’m a supernatural being, darling. They don’t have the same effects on me.”

“So you stayed and made me breakfast to rub it in?” Dick snapped.

“Mmm, just a bit,” Jason admitted. He steered Dick into a seat at the table, placed a fork in his hand, and set the plate in front of Dick.

Dick glared at Jason. He stabbed the omelet viciously. “Don’t you have work this morning?” he snarled.

“Cancelled all my meetings, including yours,” Jason said dismissively. He sat down across from Dick with a smirk on his face. “Thought I’d spent the day with you. I’m a bit horrified you’re the first one to move our relationship along to the next level.”

Dick choked before the omelet even made it to his mouth. “That wasn’t my intention! And there- there is no relationship!” Even as he said that, Dick's face grew red.

“So you say,” Jason smirked. “But we both know fully well just how much you need me.”

Dick’s teeth clinked on the metal fork as he bit down, hoping it would send some threatening message to Jason. He chewed just as viciously, but each chew quickly became less so.

 Jason smirked at him. “Tastes good, doesn't it?”

Dick forced himself to set his fork down. Damn that wolf. Power-hungry and manipulative - that son of a bitch had no right being such a talented cook.

“What's wrong? Does your hand hurt?” Jason asked. “Here, I’ll feed you.”

“I can eat fine by myself!” Dick snapped, picking up the fork again and shoving another bite into his mouth. Shit, it was more delicious than the first. He blushed hard as he continued eating, his stomach rejoicing at the amazing food.

Jason watched the entire time, a shit-eating grin on his face. They both knew who came out on top again. But this time, Dick almost could not even bring himself to care.

Six months ago, Dick prepped for yet another easy werewolf extermination job - in, out, and done.

Six months later, Dick sat in the kitchen, eating breakfast cooked by the man who was both his client and his target.

Where exactly had it all gone wrong?

2541 words

Second prompt, already broke the 1k rule. Also, I swear I posted this last night, but apparently I was wrong. Must have fallen asleep before I did. Thank you for this prompt, nonny! I absolutely loved this idea!

[sin-like-me]

Equal Measure

Pairing: John Seed x (tried for a Gender Neutral Deputy)

Word Count: 4,223

Warnings: I swear, I enjoy it, and I am unapologetic. Heads up.

Summary: Associations can be dangerous, determination concerning, and a small bit of plastic incredibly weighty. 

Quick Note: This is the first time I have ever shared something I have written. Be advised there is no beta reader. The idea sprang from owning the very quilt mentioned... Also, I deeply appreciate Ubisoft and their writers for creating this entire universe. I seek only to borrow the Seeds from time to time to do with them as I will.

<~~~~~~~~>~~~~~~~~~~<~~~~~~~~~~~>~~~~~~~~~~~~~<~~~~~~~~~~~~> 

‘What in the hell am I doing?!’

This is the thought that has been echoing in your head for the last twenty minutes; its insistence so loud it nearly drowns out the surrounding cacophony of frogs. Incredulity seeps from every pore as your heavily booted feet unerringly find purchase on the forest floor. It is your sure and steady tread through the darkness that impedes the wake-up call you so desperately need. You marvel with a slightly disconnected humor as your body takes over, blazing a trail to your possible destruction. Apparently, common sense was thrown violently from a window in lieu of a surety of heart.

‘I’m going to get myself killed over a damned ill conceived notion. Sorry Resistance members, your “hero” has perished due to their own asininity. Why, you good folk thought that if the Deputy ever fell it would be at the hands of a Peggie? Maybe a Judge? More the fool you.’

A fallen tree lies across the trail and without a second thought you nimbly vault over, landing with a surprisingly mute thump. These past weeks have improved your physical prowess and given you a new appreciation for stealth. Hell, once upon a time that little feat would have taken several tries before it was landed successfully. Who knew that fighting for survival would carry such excellent side benefits? Well, ya know, other than staying alive to see another day.

‘I am a damned fool, or maybe just damned.’

Above, a sliver of moon barely illuminates the neatly tied package hooked to your belt. The item in question was a bit bulky, though light weight and useful; loot you happened upon while clearing shelter for the night. That something so simple, ridiculous even, could quite possibly bring about your death was mind boggling. Logically you knew that what you carried would not only be welcomed but deeply appreciated by the Rye family. Alas, the moment you realized what you had chanced upon HIS face swam into view; vaguely alarming you with just how quickly you drew the association. Hell, if you had an ounce of self preservation you would turn on your heel and head towards Nick’s place.

‘It’s juvenile for fucks sake!’

Trying to push aside the feeling of panic clawing its way up your sides, you mentally recall every single detail leading you to this point.

‘Maybe I’m blissed out of my mind. I HAVE to be. Were there any of those damned Bliss flowers around?’

A few hours earlier you caught sight of the small white home, its silence deafening on the edge of the surrounding chaos. Blood was smeared across the front walk, the windows shattered and no vehicles, nor Bliss bouquets, present. It appeared abandoned, a potential place of rest. Crouching you held your gun at ready, muscles tensed as you methodically peeked through windows, watching, waiting, aware and patient.

Moving silently and swiftly you covered the entire perimeter neither observing nor hearing the slightest of sounds or movements from inside. Tossing a rock into several of the windows from behind cover of the truck, you held your breath half hoping for a confrontation and half dreading one. A minute become five. Nothing. It had to be clear. The Peggies weren’t known to be particularly patient. You stood, stretched your back. The weight from your survival pack taking a small toll after a solid 8 hour hike. Only a few more feet… deep, steadying breath and you leveled your shotgun at the door. Haste made your steps a bit louder than you would have liked, but as you threw open the door and swept the room, you had to smirk. Out of the corner of your eye you managed a glimpse of your face plastered on a wanted poster.

‘Wanted? Yeah, well, good luck you fanatics. I will not go gentle into that good night.’

Lowering your weapon once you established an all clear, you viciously ripped down their pitiful attempt at intimidation. Scoffing you made damn sure to leave a heavy boot print on its face, unrepentant sinner that you were and all. Inside boxes were stacked high enough to obscure any view outside, but they also enabled some cover. A short walk-through and you mentally noted all entry and exit points, only stopping to complain once.

“Shit.”

The back door had been completely removed.

Thinking on your feet, you pushed and stacked boxes in front of the opening. It wouldn’t stop much of anything, but it would serve as a noisy warning. Truthfully, it gave you what you were craving: the illusion of safety. As satisfied as you were going to be with the makeshift barrier, you returned to the living room. The now cleared couch seemed inviting but a sudden breeze through the window frames invoked an involuntary shiver. Maybe you could find a blanket in one of the many boxes? Hell, it was worth a shot. Heading over to a solitary box sitting atop an old armchair you pulled your treasured Ka-Bar knife from the top of your boot.  Making quick work of the tape, a surprised laugh escaped your lips when you immediately hit pay dirt. Luck seemed to shadow your every move… or perhaps divine intervention?

A quick thought was spared for the Seeds as you pulled a stack of cloth out of the box. Saviors of the modern world, yet death stalked their every move. Did they not see the blatant hypocrisy? Killing or force converting the masses in order to save them from “the Great Collapse”?! It was either utter bullshit or at the very least counterintuitive.

Ahha! Your hand skims smooth, thin blue cotton. While sheets were nice, something heavier would be better...annnnddddd BINGO! A quilt. You pulled it free and shook it out, letting the ends drop to the floor. The orange glow from the dying sun gave the back of the cream colored quilt an odd glow. Eyes scanning the windows, you made your way to the couch and sat down, sheets and quilt clutched in a fist.

Rule one of survival?  Rest before resistance. Maybe the Resistance should make their own posters and hang ‘em right next to those ever so cheery YES! signs.

The light of the day dipped beyond the horizon. Night began to settle in, snuffing out the remnants of illumination and cradling you in its embrace of anonymity and obscurity. In the dark you seem safe and hidden.

The perfect silence is interrupted by a low growl from your stomach. Ah, well perhaps you need more than rest. You debate eating the cans of tuna spotted on the kitchen counter, but forgo it in favor of a protein bar from your pack. Quite frankly jimmying the can open with your knife was a little more effort than you wanted to expend at that moment. Besides the chalky texture wasn’t too terrible if you ate it quickly.

Hunger abated you set your pack and shotgun on the floor beside the couch within easy reach, and pulled the sidearm from your hip. No one was comfortable trying to sleep with a gun digging into their side. Hmmm, maybe a bit more light for the moment while you arranged yourself on the couch. Leaning up from your semi-prone position and grabbing a glow stick from the side of your hiking pack, you snap it in half, shake and are engulfed in a faint, eerie, green glow. Ah, to sleep in combat boots or not was the question. Sleeping without shoes was a luxury you had not indulged in recent memory. You had to always be ready, prepared to defend, run, or kill at a moments notice. You learned quickly that having your fight or flight response consistently heightened was not sustainable. There were moments of breaking, of utter mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion so acute you didn’t give a damn about anything at all.

This was one of those times.

Fuck the shoes.

You sat up again to unlace the well worn, well loved boots when you froze in place. Horrified amusement broke your arms out in goosebumps as its chill trickled down your spine. Oh, but God had a sense of humor. Draped across your lap the quilt you had quickly dismissed as non-descript was anything but. Large squares repeated a pattern in red, blue and cream and you couldn’t help where you mind raced. Vivid flashes assaulted your senses:  blue eyes boring into yours, his cold, barely controlled fury lapping at your soul in ravenous waves.  

You hated that you read their file before leaving the station on that fated night. For weeks you did not let yourself stop to think and consider. To empathize. You knew their documented history, knew the hell the Seed brothers had endured throughout what should have been a normal childhood. Fingers reflexively clutching the fabric in your fist, your eyes lost focus, thoughts turning further inward.

Each Seed brother had been and were being shaped by their experiences, each twisted in a different way, all needing balance.. And maybe even kindness. You offered them no excuses, could not forget nor understand their actions, but suddenly you knew you could empathize with their pasts. You could glean some form of perspective, and that scared you. Were the lines not black and white in this struggle? Were there actual shades of grey?

‘Damn it!’

You shook your head trying to physically dislodged these uncomfortable realizations. We are all a constantly evolving product of our experiences, the Seeds included. Maybe.. Maybe it was not too late?

Following that hope was a dash of reality. Too late for what? To save everyone? To be the hero to all? For peace? That is for children’s fairy tales. This was real life.. And real life was messy.

You focus on the quilt in our hand, a wild idea solidifying into a determined decision.

It is said that hope can be a dangerous thing, well, apparently you are now on a mission to prove it.  

Before you could rethink your plan, you folded the quilt into a neat square, grabbed some of the brown packing paper forgotten on the kitchen floor, and deftly wrapped the package. No luck finding any tape, so improvise and adapt. You had some gauze strips and with a little ripping it would tie it closed in a pinch. Properly secured, you examined the finished product.. It was missing a calling card, something to let him know you had delivered it, knew where he was and that you could have easy access if you so chose… but what? Then it hit you. A slow smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you leaned back into the couch, hand going for your jeans pocket. You didn’t know why you hadn’t sewn it back on yet, probably saving it as a perverse reminder of your escape. It would be the perfect nod to and  perhaps even a small dig at the man who considered himself just that “fresh” as Sharky would say.

Without a second thought you snaked a piece of gauze thread through the holes and neatly secure the small, innocuous object front and center.

Presently that tiny piece of blue plastic glinted up at you in the moonlight reminding you that yes, you were in fact enroute to one of the Seed’s compounds. Even knowing the danger you kept your pace, ducking under low hanging branches and freezing into a crouch as a twig snapped less than a klick to the west. Soundlessly your silenced P226 Amendment 2 was drawn and aimed towards the sound when you spotted a small pack of wolves stalking the vicinity. As long as lady luck kept your scent downwind you would be elusive, time to pick up the pace.

Keeping the river to your left you knew that the ranch was about an hour hike from your shelter, but that was assuming one could just waltz down the long drive and right up to the front door. You had no such luxury, so you kept to the riverbank and trees, skirting along the property line under the cover of night. You made decent time all things considered and when you found the dock you knew you had to scale the cliffs behind his home. Hmph. Good thing you took the time to wolf down that protein bar. Grappling on an empty stomach was difficult at the best of times, and grappling at night while surrounded by Peggies in various states of alert was NOT the best of times.

The cliff edge was approximately 30 feet from a side door leading into some portion of the vast building which John Seed called home. Cult members were stationed at lookout points along the four corners of the property with a small group at the front and to the sides. Right now the back was clear of patrols so you narrowed in on your destination: a patch of tall flowering plants. Pulling yourself up and over the final ridge with a soft grunt, you quickly crouched behind a nearby tree, scoping the surroundings before dashing into the midst of cover. The door was so damned close.. You unclipped the package from your waist and hefted its weight in your palm. You could throw it, but where was the personal touch in that? No, you did not come all this way pushing past exhaustion to just throw it and run. Sure the area was well lit, sure this was the home of one of the Heralds of the Collapse, but in this very moment you were foolishly unafraid. Unafraid or perhaps in some form of delirium from exhaustion.

Your suspicions spike when nary a soul comes to patrol the back door. It made no sense. The Seeds were many things, but unprepared and stupid were not one of them. Then a  certainty flitted through your subconscious:

John knows I am here.

Alright, let’s say he does. So, what do you do? Do you sit here and debate the reason why, do you leave, or do you oblige the curiosities of a man who for reasons unknown obviously has no immediate intention of capturing you? Why Sharky’s voice rang in your thoughts at that moment were unclear but damn he was right.

“Ride or Die.” you whisper.

Standing tall, equal parts foolhardy and confident, you make your way to the backdoor, eyes always forward in defiance of any possible threats. With a studied casualness you ascend the two steps to the cedar stoop, package in hand. Well, so far, so good. Glancing up you spot a red light. Mhm, of course John liked to watch.

‘Well Mr. John Seed, enjoy the show.’

Dropping to one knee, you make sure to mockingly exaggerate every movement.

“An offering to the god Maximon.” you mutter sarcastically staring at the camera stationed in the corner of the overhang. “Google it John.”

You wink, a delicious trill of excitement tugging your lips into a smirk.  Standing then, you flip him the nationwide symbol for get fucked, and waltz right back to the cliffs. Your shoulders feeling lighter, your burden moved. You would not be hunted this night.

He knew….and the ball was in his court.

As Fate would have it, John just happened to be on the ranch that night. He saw the Deputy the  moment a delicate hand grasped the cliff's edge. Little known fact, the first thing he had done when he bought this ranch was to make sure security cameras were installed to cover every single angle of his ranch. At the time it was expensive, but he knew he would not regret it and as he sat back in his chair, the black leather creaking slightly with his shifting weight, he basked in his foresight. On the screen the slender fingers flexed as a head of dark hair came into view. John did not consciously acknowledge how his breath hitched in anticipation nor did he stop to consider how he recognized Rook from something as small as that hand.

Cerulean eyes narrowed under dark brows absorbing every single muscle flex, every minute facial tick.

“Oh what do we have here Dep-ut-yyyy.. Tsk, tsk.. You can do so much better than this pitiful attempt at assassination.”  He leaned forward slowly, tapping the figure on the screen with a long, well manicured finger. “Frankly my dear, I am offended.”

Rook was crouching now, and John watched in amusement as the quick progression to the edge of the trees came to an abrupt halt. Time to debate that next move.

“Well, you certainly have my attention and curiosity…” eyes never leaving the screen, his hand closes around his radio. Switching to his personal security channel, his next order was very deliberate, “Call off all patrols for the next hour.”

A brief crackle of static, “Yes sir John sir.”

He smirked, they knew better than to question him and damned if they would defy him. He may lack Jacob’s military training, but he could command a flock through fear and charm.

“What are you up to my sinful Wrath?”

It was then he spotted a thick, square package being untied from the black leather belt slung snugly across the deputy’s hips.

“Explosives? How utterly mundane.” disappointment dripped from his words.

He watched as there was a sudden shift in the Deputy’s posture. From a crouching and tensely coiled machine arose a self-confident silhouette. No longer were the steps hurried, quiet, and cautious. In place was an arrogant stride, each step measured and calculated, and the demeanor focused on the goal ahead. Never once did eyes dart to look to the sides or behind. It was then he knew…

His... no, no, no…  THE Deputy knew he was watching.

A shiver danced up the base of his spine, eyes narrowing. A devilish smile curved his lips bringing a sudden softness to his usually intense face.

“My, my aren’t we the brave one? All alone with no sign of Nick or Sharky? An unapproved outing perhaps? Ahhh, secrets upon lies upon secrets. Your sins seem to know no bounds.”

Rook had reached the door after a quick climb up the two back steps. John braced his forearm along the desk and leaned in so close that the screen almost grazed his nose. He should have been focusing on the package, but his eyes would not leave Rook’s face.

“Show me your sin… show  me your wrath,” he whispers, almost begging.

In a surprising move, the Deputy falls to one knee and looks directly at the camera, eyes amused even through the technological barrier. Lips are pursed in a small smile, mocking and almost taunting him. The mic kicked on and he heard every single word that pretty little throat uttered.

“An offering to the god Maximon.” a soft intake of breath and … was that a fucking laugh?! “Google it John.”

The use of his name scattered any logical thought processes he may have had. Never before had Rook uttered it, not when tied to his chair, not when baptised.. The sound of it from those lips and in that voice was alarming. Equal parts dreadful and pleasing.

The package, which he had forgotten in his astonishment, was placed gently upon the deck and with a small pause, the Deputy looked back up at the camera and winked. His internal confusion mounted until, standing, he got the one finger salute. John barely caught the guffaw that was trying to escape his throat so what ended up coming out was a strained grunt.

“Ahhhh, and there it is mixed with a bit of arrogance.”

Did the Deputy think him a complete simpleton? He was an educated man. He damn well knew the legend behind the Mayan God Maximon. Obviously Rook was trying to draw some rather dramatic comparisons. John chuckled. Oh dear… Was it the sunglasses? My, how he enjoyed that little reference.

Watching the retreating form closely, John sat on the edge of his chair  until the deputy’s head disappeared down the cliff. Once gone from the screen and his property, John finally stood to his full height of 5’10”. Running an unsteady hand through his hair, he made a quick grab for the radio before turning to descend to the back door.

Who was he to shun any offerings left by his admirers?

Cracking the door he peeked down at the package. Nothing was blinking or ticking.. He reached to his side, grabbed a conveniently placed broom and poked it. Surprisingly the package gave way with the brown paper ripping slightly.

Cloth?!

“What do you have up your sleeve?”

Pushing the broom back behind him, John stepped out onto the stoop and picked up the parcel. From what he could see inside the hole it looked like some clothing perhaps? Was the Deputy affronted by his fashion sense? Pft. He was damn meticulous about his choice of clothes, he was the face of Eden’s Gate after all. This look went over well for the most part.

He began to pluck at the gauze tying the parcel closed when a small blue button caught his eye. It was securely fastened to the middle of the package demanding to be noticed and there was absolutely no need for an explanation. John immediately knew what it was. Memories of the moment that he had Rook tied to his chair, the room encased in harsh red light.... He had leaned down, his mouth saying how he wished he had more to say yes to...ripping open that blue button down shirt… buttons scattered, flesh visible to his feasting eyes, sponge cleaning the fevered skin, his eyes demanding of those before him, commanding obedience yet hoping for rebellion.. Oh he knew this little button well.

His fingers closed into a fist around the small bit of plastic, tightening his grip until its form bit into the soft flesh of his palm. He shook his head to bring him back to the present before pocketing the button. Ripping the remaining paper away, John flicked out the cloth within and studied it briefly before throwing his head back and laughing.

It was a quilt… a quilt with blue planes and clouds in squares around the outskirts, and a red and blue plane circling each other in the center. It was obviously made with a child in mind, but John was oddly pleased. Sure the quilt was juvenile, but it told him quite a lot. The Deputy had somehow noted his admiration for planes in the only way possible: by the pattern on the coat he had only worn once when they first laid eyes on one another. It seemed a lifetime ago, that moment where it all began. The fact that those observant eyes had paid special attention to him, that Rook felt the need to gift this to him… spoke of something more than wrath.

He smirked, picking up the trash and tossing the quilt over his forearm to carry inside. This quilt was sure to be an interesting piece, and hell he might even display it in a mocking way amongst his Eden’s Gate symbols and books. For the moment he tossed the quilt over the dining room table, ignoring the blinking message light on his answering machine.

Was the Deputy coming around? Doubtful, but possible.

He made a quick detour through his kitchen and into his garage where there was a toolbox with exactly what he needed. On autopilot he rummaged through the necessary drawers, pushing aside bits of metal until he located the needle nose pliers and jump rings.

Striding back into the dining room John pulled a chair out in a quick gesture. Sitting thoughtfully, eyes glazed in contemplation, he was unaware as his hand toyed with the leather thong around his neck. A quick blink and he pulled up, ducking absently as it slipped from around his neck. What he was doing, he would not fully comprehend in the moment, but it was something he desperately needed. That tiny piece of plastic burned his thigh where it rested, heavy with meaning. Tugging it from where it lay hidden, deft fingers attached the weighty piece of blue behind his bunker key.

This was.. His? John brought the leather up to his neck, and after a brief debate slipped it back over his head. The weight from the key caused the leather to fall silently back into place, its familiar shape coming to a rest against his bare chest. Where there should have been the cool bite of metal, instead burned the heat of a secret contained in the form of a small blue button. Yes, this was his. His to carry or expose as he saw fit.

The Deputy… HIS deputy, was a weight he would shoulder, a sin he would either condone, commit, or eventually excise and cleanse. The path was not clear to him yet, but he would save Wrath even if it meant dragging them bodily into salvation: bloody, kicking, and screaming.

John chuckled as his hand closed over the handheld, the soft crackle of open airwaves loud in the silence of revelation, “Patrols will resume in an hour.”

Immediately he received his enthusiastic response: “Yes sir!”

Tonight? Well, tonight he would grant reprieve.

[duckslif3-art]

I have not written a fic in a VERY long time. It felt good but also I know it’s not the best. Anyway, this is the first time Magica and Gladstone meet, as per my Lucky Lena AU. Sorry there hasn’t been much content, life’s been crazy.

Hope you enjoy anyway!!

. … .

He loved yard sales.

Nothing drew his attention more than a well stocked yard full of mementos and knick knacks. You could find anything there, and, if you were as lucky as he was, you’d be guaranteed to find the most valuable bauble that sale had to offer.

Gladstone Gander, however, was infinitely more interested in the card table covered in dusty old books. And, to his delight, the books’ content just so happened to be of his latest curiosity - magic.

He started to leaf through the first book, pleased to find that its pages contained a plethora of information on transfiguring charms - exactly what he had been pondering over that morning, if you could believe it. He flipped to a page in the center and started reading, barely noticing the short dark figure that had wandered up next to him.

…

She despised yard sales.

Nothing was more annoying than sorting through piles of garbage with a miniscule chance of finding anything of value. Luckily for her, the people who had purchased this house had little idea of how much some of the belongings of the previous owner, a deceased witch, were actually worth. Of course, she would much rather spend her money on new books and supplies in an acceptable shop than scrounge around in the dust.

But, Magica de Spell could not afford that kind of luxury. Her and and her brother, Poe, were barely scraping by as is, though they needed materials, and so he had sent her here in hopes of purchasing semi-quality ingredients for dirt cheap.

She skimmed over the table until they landed on a table scattered in books. Not what she was there for, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to look.

Wandering over, she paused next to a man who was wearing entirely too much green, and then started reading the covers that were nearest her. She opened one on harnessing unruly powers and scoffed to herself. Poe would love that, given that she herself had a habit of losing control at the worst times.

She pulled out some coins from her pocket and started counting.

…

The book was truly fascinating. Gladstone had always wondered if perhaps his good fortune ever masked a possible aptitude for sorcery, but he’d never been able to successfully commit any magical deeds - they simply took too much effort. That being said, he hadn’t given it a go in awhile, so what would be the harm in trying?

He dug a few dollars out from his pocket, exactly what he needed, as always, and began to walk in the direction of the owners.

Instead, he came beak to beak with the woman next to him, who had decided right at that moment to start walking in his direction.

With a pitched and synchronized “quack” they both tumbled to the ground.

“Watch- E-excuse me, I-“ Gladstone was baffled. This kind of thing never happened to him. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

This kind of ill-timed misfortune was however, a normal occurrence for Magica, and she simply scooped her book and change back off the concrete and stood up.

“You should learn to watch where you’re going-“ She glanced over him, presumably looking for an insult before finishing. “-blondie.”

And then she walked away without a second glance.

Gladstone though, sat on the ground a moment longer, still bewildered at what had happened. And she was… what was that accent she had?

He may have stayed there all day if the owner hadn’t walked up to see if he was alright. Embarrassed he quickly grabbed the book and stood up, shoving the money into the woman’s hand, then scurried off.

Try as he might, he couldn’t get the incident out of his mind. The whole way home he searched for a memory of a time a random happenstance like that ended up being any less than fortunate for him.

And that woman, they only made contact for a moment but it was… interesting. It had felt odd, almost draining.

It wasn’t until he turned the knob to his front door that he glanced at the book in his hand, and realized with exhaustion that it wasn’t the one he had been reading.

Controlling your Curses: and other tips for the unruly sorcerer. It seemed to be a guide for harnessing magic. But then, had this been what that woman had meant to buy?

Did that mean she was a witch? Gladstone felt his heart skip. He’d never gotten to meet one. And it had happened so fast, too.

He went inside and slipped into his chair with the book, pondering over it.

Perhaps… this wasn’t misfortune. Maybe this book was exactly what he really needed. He smiled to himself and opened it. He decided he shouldn’t worry about the seemingly haphazard afternoon, and then, before losing himself in the texts, thought that he wouldn’t mind running into that mysterious woman again.

…

After all of that, she didn’t even get the book she had wanted. Her brother had chewed her out when she returned without and supplies, and that only put her in an even worse mood.

If only it weren’t for that blundering wizard that had run into her, this wouldn’t have happened. She’d have bought the ingredients she could, and then come home to show her brother the book, and how responsible she was for finding it.

Magica was fuming. It was bad enough that her magic was quirky at best, but the longer they had spent away from their family in Italy, the more impulsive her behavior had gotten. She didn’t mind it so much, though her brother, patient as he was with her, had made it clear that the erratic behavior wasn’t getting her any closer to mastering her talents.

Mad as she was though, she had to admit that something about the man puzzled her. When they’d clamored into each other she’d felt a strange buzz, for just a moment. Almost like a rush of energy. It had made her nearly feel… lucky for once in her life. And that feeling lasted until she realized the book she’d accidentally bought.

Transfiguring Living Things for Beginners.

Even though the charms were simple, transfiguration wasn’t for those who weren’t already incredibly skilled. The man she’d run into must have been a powerful wizard to be interested in a book like that.

She sighed. It’s too bad I didn’t stay and talk to him then, she thought. He might have been able to teach me something.

And yet, even as thought this, she knew that if they ever crossed paths again, she’d give him hell for ruining her day.

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

Photo Album

Batfam Week Day 1 is Family. The supremely talented @sam-and-crystal collaborated with me to create the picture I describe in the Wayne Family photo album. I can’t believe that she took the description and turned it into a beautiful reality! You can also read the fic here on my ao3. Rating: PG (Jason has a bit of a mouth and I stand behind Kate’s burn but some may not) Words: 2,095 Gen (only familial relationships though it’s heavily implied that the batkids end up with kids of their own. Insert personal headcannon’s there (including adopting kiddos of their own).)

The little girl roamed the manor in awe, her expression showcasing the pure definition of wonderstruck just as it always did when she came to visit “Grandpa Bruce”. She came across a section of the library that she couldn’t remember visiting before. The shelves here held books that were thicker, their spines almost resembling the three-ring binders she used in school. Ever so carefully the girl removed the books and placed them in a growing stack at her feet.

Bruce found her seated there on the floor, miniature towers surrounding her, an hour later. She was smiling as she cautiously turned the page of the volume she had nestled in her lap. Bruce maneuvered between the piles and carefully sat himself next to her. All the while his joints creaked and ached, his body’s belated revenge for years spent brutalized in the name of crime fighting. Peering over her shoulder Bruce felt the corners of his lips flick upward. “I see you’ve found the family albums,” he whispered.

“Is that what these are?” she asked with her wide eyes sparkling.

Bruce bobbed his head once and gently tugged the album from her lap to his own. Flipping the page, he smiled as something in his chest warmed. Staring up at him was his family in all their rambunctious, candid glee.

Tim sat directly in the middle of the frame, wedged on the couch between Steph and Cass. The two girls were successfully tickling Tim and you could just make out the hint of a motion blur around the edges of their forms as they squirmed and laughed. Damian sat on the arm of the couch with his back leaning against Stephanie. His arms were crossed as he petulantly stuck his tongue out at Dick, for once looking like the child he had truly been. For his part, Dick was sticking his own tongue out at Damian. Face scrunched up, hands on his hips, his butt jutting out as he leaned forward. The stance reminded Bruce suddenly of Peter Pan. Jason stood behind the couch with his arm slung around Duke’s shoulders. His head was thrown back in a laugh so you could just make out his shut eyes and open mouth between the jutting chin and flop of hair. Duke was smirking at whatever joke the two had made, likely at Dick’s expense, with his arms crossed over his chest. On Jason’s other side stood Babs, her palm pressed into his shoulder mid-shove. Her lips had scrunched up to the side of her face, wrinkling her nose in the process. However, behind her glasses her eyes sparkled with silent laughter. Behind Barbara and just barely in frame stood Alfred, a wide smile on his face as he watched the chaos his charges created.

“I took this picture,” he told her, tapping lightly on the page.

“How?” she asked. The knit of her brow told Bruce that she had sat through enough family dinners to know how hard it was to get them all joking with each other, even after so many years.

“Luck,” he said with a smirk.

The day the picture was taken was one of Gotham’s many dreary ones. His various children had found refuge from the drizzle and damp in various wings of the manor. Even now he couldn’t think of what might have drove them all there on a perfectly average Saturday besides the weather. The day before he had promised Tim to help with some WE things but had gotten significantly sidetracked, ending up in the living room arguing with his cousin over the phone when the teen walked in.

“Kate, I don’t think you understand exactly how redundant that is,” he half sighed into the phone. Pinching the bridge of his nose to try and ward off a Kate induced headache.

“And I don’t think you understand exactly how redundant you are! Come talk to me when you stop being an exorbitantly wealthy, cishet white male of a nonspecific faith,” she screeched back.

Bruce loved his cousin, she was often right, he just didn’t appreciate her ire being targeted at him. He turned to Tim sitting on the couch, who gave a little wave and mouthed “I’ll wait” with a smile. Bruce could tell he had heard Kate’s outburst and was now significantly more eager to hear his response than talk business.

“You need to understand that you have every reason to be mad and what you said is true, however directing your anger at me for those reasons isn’t helping right now since they are not only unrelated but also as I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yet,” she immediately shot back.

Bruce sighed. “Yet. Now please, can we get back on topic?” He paced as she laid out the full extent of her anger. Now and again Bruce would interject with a question that she would then elaborate on but otherwise he just listened. His concentration narrowed to the problem she was dictating to him and when they both hung up about twenty minutes later, on good terms, he was surprised to find the living room filled.

Over the course of the conversation his other children must have filtered in. They now sat before him, talking and laughing. Tim was wildly turning his phone this way and that, obviously playing a racing game of some sort. Steph cheered and poked him in the side, causing Tim to flinch and jerk his phone.

“Steph!” he whined, “I was winning!”

“Just a game,” Cass poked him in the other side. She wore a sly grin and her eyes had a mischievous glint to them. Bruce had to admit he was glad that her mischief wasn’t being directed at him.

Stephanie snickered and the two girls shared a knowing look before they pounced. Tim didn’t stand a chance as his phone dropped to the floor.

Damian had perched on the arm of the couch, half leaning on Stephanie once she sat back slightly. Dick stood in front of him, waggling a finger in Damian’s face. “Just because you deny it doesn’t mean it’s not true!” he crowed.

“-tt- Only a true idiot such as yourself would believe in such an outrageous thing.” Damian rolled his eyes spectacularly.

“Oh really? Then why do your ears turn red whenever I say anything about it?” Dick asked.

Damian narrowed his eyes and Bruce could see him formulating a response.

Bruce decided to turn his attention away from his eldest and youngest son, full-well knowing that he would be made aware of the fallout of their current conversation as it happened. His eyes landed on Jason who was leaning with his forearms on the back of the couch. He was semi-aggressively ruffling Tim’s hair as the girls continued their tickling.

Duke was tapping on Jason’s shoulder, obviously trying to direct Jason’s attention to Dick and Damian’s increasingly dramatic not-actually-a-fight-fight. Babs was attempting to braid a few stray pieces of Cass’s short hair as she moved. Jason’s sudden focus on a brother that wasn’t Tim drew Barbara’s attention as well.

Bruce heard Jay snort as he quickly opened the camera app on his phone. He raised it as he heard Jason mutter something, snapping the picture just as his son let out a raucous laugh. Bruce lowered his phone without looking at the screen, instead standing there and smiling at his kids.

“B? Uh, everything ok?” Tim asked. Stephanie and Cass had dropped their hands to their laps. All of them had their own unique dumbstruck faces. Bruce blinked at them.

Alfred cleared his throat and stepped away from the back wall where he had been standing. “I believe Master Bruce is, ah, taking it all in.” He smiled kindly at Bruce before turning his attention to the kids.

He could see them all squirm a little, a few smiles and chuckles. Bruce was used to it though, he wasn’t one to openly show affection and no one was exactly comfortable acknowledging when he did. At least not when he was standing right there.

“I know I promised that we would talk business Tim, but I can’t pass up on a day such as this.” With that he swooped towards the couch, scooping up Cass and easily and gently throwing his daughter over his shoulder. She squealed and lightly pounded her fists on his back.

Bruce chuckled as she laughed, he was waiting for the rest of his family to lay chase.

“Hey! That’s my protegee!” Babs yelled as she ran after them.

“And my best friend! Kidnapping is a crime!” Steph called out.

Bruce glanced back in time to see Jason’s long strides overtaking the two girls. “Yeah well that’s my little sister so I get first dibs on ass whooping!”

Bruce laid on the speed as Cass’s peals of laughter filled the manor. Bruce could just hear Dick’s shout of “Get in line Jay!”

Rounding a corner, he was forced to skid to a stop, resulting in a soft “oof” from Cass. He murmured a quick apology and felt her sign “It’s alright” into his back. Bruce turned his attention back to the obstacle that caused him to stop. Before him stood Tim, Damian, and Duke. All three wore matching mischief making grins and Bruce had some sudden serious concern as to when they had all started spending enough time together to do that. The last Bruce could recall Damian and Tim still hated each other and Duke was still not quite comfortable around the other two.

“Now boys, let’s discuss this civilly,” he tried. Cass tapped his right shoulder and Bruce began edging that way. He could hear the others getting closer. They all stood there tensed, waiting to see who would make the first move.

“Now!” Cass yelled and Bruce took off running again. A smile on his face as he sprinted down the halls. “Kitchen!” Bruce veered left and slid to a stop in front of Alfred, who already had two bowls of ice cream readied. Setting Cass on her feet, Bruce turned to look at his daughter questioningly. She just held her phone up at him and smirked. Bruce gave Cass a high five as they grabbed the ice cream and went to barricade themselves in the cave.

After about ten minutes, and hastily finishing their ice cream, the two of them were dragged from the cave into the large movie room that the manor was home to. Dick had pulled a movie from the shelf and flipped on the DVD player. “What’d you pick?” Barbara asked.

“Man from U.N.C.L.E. Something we can all actually agreed on,” Dick said. His gaze met Bruce’s and he smiled as his eyes twinkled. Bruce flicked up his lips in a smile of his own. His eldest knew how to keep the peace, even if it didn’t last long.

The rest of the night passed relatively without incident. Tim lost his popcorn when Damian aggressively fist pumped, upending the bowl. Steph was told to shut up after the third time she said how much she loved a particular dress. Jason was shushed for bemoaning that his action sequences couldn’t be viewed from such good angles. In all, it had been a good day. A real win for the Wayne family and company.

“Hello? Anyone in here? Alfred said you were here and I will not take kindly to being startled,” Dick’s voice carried through the library. He rounded the corner of the shelves and smiled down at them. “There you are munchkin! Hey B! I’m surprised to see you on the floor. You think you can get up?”

Bruce scoffed. “I’m not that old Dick. I’m guessing you were sent to collect us?” Dick gave a sharp nod and a grin. Bruce handed the photo album back and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

He began following after Dick when he paused and looked back. The photo albums were still stacked around her and she hadn’t even made a move to get up. “You coming sport?”

Her head jerked up. “Huh? Oh. Sorry. These are just so cool.” A small smile danced across her lips as she kept staring at the page.

“You know, why don’t we bring some of these along? I think everyone else might like looking at them too.”

Her face lit up. “Really?” When Bruce nodded she scrambled to her feet and scooped up as many albums as she could. Bruce helped her and between the two of them they managed about half of the piles. 

[lukasthemedic]

Christmas Party

Original post - 2019 ao3 works

Jefferson/Mad Hatter & Killian Jones/Captain Hook crack prompt fic

Prompts: We both wore ugly sweaters to this christmas party because the invitation didn’t say it’s formal, and, you slipped on a patch of ice and I happened to be walking behind you and you fell into my arms wow you’re really attractive

After almost a year of successfully not having any more hiccups in Storybooke, it felt almost cynical to believe that the worst was over and maybe life was actually, truly, normal. As normal as you could get, at this point. No more curses, no more good and evil, just everyone getting along. Of course, that didn’t mean that there weren’t still grudges, and that some people had issues that weren’t fixable. Jefferson held a little tighter to Grace’s hand as they approached the gloomy, daunting gate of Regina’s mansion of a house. Not that Jefferson couldn’t compare, with the size of the estate that Regina originally stuck him here with. Life was a little easier now that he was able to share it with Grace, though he never saw that happening. He thought with the curse, came sadness and grief forever, but Emma changed that when she was able to lift it. Even then, after an number of tasks before everyone, it seemed like ages before Jefferson was reunited with his daughter, but he would have fought everyday to get her back in his life. Every second of misery was worth it for the hatter.

“Papa, did you pack the cookies we made for Henry and his moms?” Grace questioned, adjusting her scarf around her neck, nose red from the chills of the wind walking from where they had to park just down the street.

Jefferson smiled and gently shook a silver tin that he carried near his side. “Of course my dear Grace, I wouldn’t forget them. Regina might have killed me if I didn’t bring our required dessert.” He mumbled the last part mostly to himself, and walked along side more of the guests that had been invited to Regina and Emma’s Christmas party. Before he could make sense of what was happening, someone in front of them slid on a patch of ice, falling back from the steps leading up to the door. Jefferson was quick to catch whomever was flailing limbs in the air, and quickly steadied himself before falling into a pile of cookies and bodies. Grace would be so disappointed if the cookies didn’t make it to the party.

Jefferson huffed, making sure to steady himself on his knee. The man looked up towards Jefferson’s face, smirking dryly. “Jefferson.” The pirate coyly stated.

“Killian.” The hatter muttered, helping the captain back to his feet, and dusting off the snow from his legs, readjusting the scarf around his own neck, and ensuring that Grace was still standing. It was Grace’s stifled giggle that made everyone else nervously laugh, before stepping into the open door of the home. It took one second for Jefferson to catch the look on Regina’s face before he realized what was happening.

A quiet buzz of music played in the house, and Jefferson took Grace’s scarf and coat before she quickly ran off with Henry and the tin of cookies to go find more of their friends. Killian cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, before choking back another fit of laughter as he looked at Jefferson.

“What happened to you two?” Regina scoffed, relaxing as Emma pulled her closer with an arm around her waist. Regina was formally dressed in a skin tight olive green dress, and Emma was in red. Guests all around the house were dressed in formal, and semi formal attire, and everyone looked fabulous Jefferson thought to himself. “Such a lavish party, Regina, I’m impressed.” The hatter managed to say between pursed lips. He flicked a glistening invitation towards Regina’s face, his own starting to turn red, burning his cheeks like hot fire. “A joke, perhaps?” He tried to maintain his calmness, remembering how far he has come from the person he used to be. Emma bit the inside of her lip, taking the invitation from Regina’s hand and looking it over quickly before handing it back to Jefferson.

“I think some of Henry’s original invitations got mixed in with the new ones before we sent them out. An honest mistake I’m sure.” Emma held back laughter, but she almost couldn’t help herself. “You guys look great.” She burst out, doubling over in laughter, causing more guests to turn their heads. Jefferson became more uncomfortable, but adjusted the sweater he had previously spent weeks picking out just for the party. It was ungodly, and absolutely hideous, but it was perfect for the occasion. The ugliest sweater that he had ever found, and very in tune for the Christmas season. But it almost didn’t compare to the one that Killian was wearing. Jefferson did almost crack something resembling a smile when he took another look at Killian, whom looked just as ridiculous as Jefferson.

“Glad I could be of your amusement.” Killian mockingly half bowed, feeling as though he was being caught in the middle of a joke. “If I may though, my loves, be excused for a drink.”

“There is a hot beverage bar in the dining lounge, dinner is nearly ready to be served if you would like to find something before we all set the tables.” Regina nodded towards the living area where sparkling decorations were hung all around and friends and foes alike were crowded together smiling and laughing while they put their differences aside to celebrate the holidays together. Jefferson was flushed hot and his head was aching with embarrassment, as he considered fleeing out the front door and locking himself in his home after made to look like a fool, but remembered Grace was along with her friends. He spotted her, Henry and other classmates around the fireplace with cups of overflowing hot chocolate and marshmallows. Her smile was radiating and by seeing how much joy was brought to her spending time with her friends, he felt selfish for getting so upset over something so small. He was used to being well dressed though and respected here, and after being a mockery for so many years and the pawn in so many games before, he felt threatened and much like he used to so many years before in his life.

Jefferson made himself a cup of hot tea and stirred some sugar in, watching others from his place against the wall. He began to relax more as he saw a few others emerge in the crowds of people, wearing ugly Christmas sweaters as well. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, maybe getting to know those in Storybooke wouldn’t be so bad. Everyone was different, they all remembered who they were now, but they were also new, changed in a way. These weren’t just the same people that he had seen all the years before from different realms, they were new creations of the people they had once been. But Jefferson couldn’t help but remember everything he was forced to never forget about all these people around him, and that was something he would always be cursed with. He would never forget anything, and that made it just as hard to learn to trust anyone again.

“Guess were not the only ones that didn’t get the memo, love.” Hook said as Jefferson jerked back to look towards him. He was pouring rum into a cup of hot chocolate. He stabbed a marshmallow with his hook and swirled it around the cup before plopping it into his mouth and taking a big gulp of his concoction. The hatter rolled his eyes, but relaxed as he looked back up again and met the eyes of the captain.

“I suppose you’re right.” Jefferson said flatly, adjusting the scarf again, becoming slightly uncomfortable feeling the pirate stare back at him. It was in this moment that Jefferson really took in Killian. He sees him out in the town every once in awhile, usually causing some sort of trouble, and getting into arguments with Emma. But something was different about him in the way that he looked at the hatter, something was lighter, more natural. The captain cocked his head to the side, grinning. “Taking it all in, are we?” He joked, twirling his hook in the air and doing a full spin while Jefferson let out a dry laugh.

“Actually, maybe so.” Jefferson admitted, looking past the pirate to do a mental check on Grace before bringing himself back to his drink. The captain stopped moving, and leaned himself against the wall next to the hatter. He drew his eyes up to Jefferson and let them stay there in that moment. He could feel his heart racing, letting his imagination run with wilderness for the first time in ages.

“Is that so, hatter.” Killian traces his hook up against the rough outline of Jefferson’s jaw, before dropping it back down to his side, taking another brave drink of his rum and hot chocolate.

“Menus are being placed, if everyone wants to join us at the tables.” Jefferson can hear Emma announcing to the party, and clicks of heels begin towards the dining area as guests start to make their ways to the tables and finding friends they wish to dine with. He wants to move, but he feels frozen in this moment, and it sparks something deep inside of him that he hasn’t been able to feel in such a long while.

“Could I trouble you for your company during dinner?” Killian suggests, motioning towards the direction that everyone is headed.

It is in that moment, that Jefferson decides he either has to take a leap and trust his instinct or stay stuck in the same rabbit hole he’s been stuck in for years, and he isn’t afraid of change he decides, not anymore. He swiftly grabs the captain by a fistful of his ugly sweater and pulls his face as close as possible, closing the distance between the two men by hastily placing his lips against the pirate’s. He can taste rum and warmth and adventure. He draws a breath in before pulling himself inches away from the captain and he almost feels a little more empty than before, wishing for the rush again with the familiar smell of Killian. Deep wood, sea salt, and sweet alcohol. He could live in this moment forever.

“Dinner, and maybe more following.” Jefferson shakily breaths out, his face turning a deep scarlet as he catches Regina eyeing their close distance on her way towards the tables. Killian runs his hands against his lips, wishing they didn’t feel so shattered and heavy after Jefferson parted with them. He waited a lifetime for this moment, and he could live a thousand of them over just to have it again.

They find themselves surrounded by friends, taking seats together at the table, and Jefferson could swear he feels the heavy staring of the captain for the most part of the meal when he isn’t catching himself looking back into his eyes. Something has definitely changed between them, that spark, and Jefferson can’t wait to discover what more comes from their encounter. He is, after all, welcoming the change.

[jamessandersweb]

9 Grey's Anatomy Plot Points That You Can't Forget Over the Summer

I was skeptical that season 14 of Grey's Anatomy would truly be lighthearted, despite what the cast had been saying. Shonda Rhimes's hit drama, after all, is notorious for bomb scares, plane crashes, and ruthless deaths. Plus, we found out halfway through the season that two beloved cast members would leave the show! But this joyful season surprised us with touching moments like Meredith's Harper Avery win and Jo's heartwarming proposal. Still, the writers introduced major game changers in the finale, so we'll definitely encounter some classic Grey's drama come season 15.

Here are the biggest turning points that you should remember from the least sad Grey's season of all time.

1. Amelia Discovers That She Has a Grapefruit-Sized Brain Tumor

Amelia discovers that she has been walking around with a grapefruit-sized tumor for years. Luckily, Dr. Koracick removes the tumor successfully. After her surgery, Amelia realizes that Owen had married her tumor, not her. They amicably break up. But with Grey's being Grey's, they hook up again and now have an unconventional coparenting situation, where Owen takes in a foster baby and Amelia takes in the baby's birth mother.

The finale introduces us to a huge plot twist: Teddy Altman is pregnant. The child is very likely Owen's, so we'll see how this love triangle plays out when Teddy becomes Grey Sloan's interim chief next season.

2. Owen's Sister Visits the Hospital . . . and Leaves With Riggs

By the end of season 13, everyone had been rooting for Grey's heroine to enter a semi-functional relationship with the gruff Dr. Nathan Riggs, Owen's sister's former fiancé. After years of being MIA, Megan reappears during the season 13 finale, shattering our hearts into smithereens. Meredith chooses the high road and encourages Nathan to reconcile with Megan. Meredith's abdominal transplant surgery on the veteran goes well, and Megan eventually moves to LA with Nathan and her adopted son.

But this is fine because, after all, Meredith is her own McDreamy. Also, a couple of episodes after Nathan leaves, Mer meets the endlessly charming Dr. Marsh, who we're low-key petitioning to join the Grey's cast permanently!

3. Meredith Wins the Harper Avery

Meredith wins the Harper Avery because of her groundbreaking surgery on Megan Hunt. We totally weren't crying or anything, because it's not like we've rooted for this damn girl over the last fourteen seasons of this show. Okay, jokes aside, this episode is special because it's the 300th episode of Grey's Anatomy. The showrunners pay homage to vintage Grey's Anatomy by drawing parallels between the current interns and Meredith's own cohort back in season one. Plus, we get to see George, Izzie, and Cristina's doppelgangers!

4. We Promptly Learn About the Allegations Against Harper Avery

Enter Marie Cerone, Ellis Grey's former best friend. Marie holds the patent that Meredith needs for her mini-livers project. Meredith later figures out that Marie had visited her with the intention to steal her idea. After Jackson inadvertently waives an NDA, the staff learns that Harper Avery had been accused multiple times of sexual misconduct.

Among the women with NDAs was Marie Cerone. Meredith and Jackson decide to rename Harper Avery's foundation the Catherine Fox Foundation, which would retrain, repay, and rehire all the women mistreated by Harper Avery. Meredith also renames her mother's method the Grey-Cerone Method, but decides to cut things off with Marie.

5. Ben Becomes a Firefighter

If you recall, Ben leads a firefighter crew to rescue Stephanie Edwards in the season 13 finale. Realizing his passion for firefighting, Ben slowly transitions into the Grey's spinoff Station 19 while making a couple of appearances in Grey's Anatomy.

This season, we mostly get montages of him training for his new job. He does have one rather moving moment this season when Miranda suffers from a heart attack. As Ben discovers his true purpose, so does Miranda. After receiving a fat check from her innovative Trailblazer surgical tool, Miranda decides to take time off to do more surgery and research, temporarily handing off her chief duties to Teddy Altman.

6. April Has a Huge Existential Crisis

April loses her ex-fiancé's wife in surgery. This breaks her faith and leads to her acting out. She drinks copiously, hooks up with an intern, and snaps at her coworkers. We all worried that April's reckless behavior would eventually lead to a fatal ending, like death or suicide. April, however, eventually finds peace after connecting with a patient who is a rabbi. But that doesn't keep us safe from Grey's writers, who decided to toy with us one more time before Sarah Drew left Grey's Anatomy.

After falling into a river, April miraculously survives with the help of everyone at Grey Sloan. In the season finale, we learn that she's decided to pursue God's work and help the homeless population. In addition to finding a purposeful career path, April marries her ex-fiancé, Matthew, after he proposes to her at Jo and Alex's wedding. Second time's the charm, right?

7. Maggie and Jackson Are an Item

Following some very awkward tension, Maggie and Jackson finally get together. Maggie had been dating a smarmy guy on Tinder named Clive, who turned out to be cheating on his wife. After the Clive fiasco, Jackson kisses her and they seem to be fairly happy . . . for now. Their chemistry has potential, but I'm waiting for things to shake up between them.

8. Alex and Jo Tie the Knot

Alex and Jo reconcile this season, which culminates in Jo slipping on Alex's ring and telling him that he's her home. But they definitely still had hurdles to jump, specifically encounters with Jo's estranged husband Paul and Alex's ill mother. In true Grey's fashion, Jo and Alex get locked inside a barn during their own wedding after sneaking off for a quickie.

After a disaster of a wedding ceremony, Meredith marries them on a ferry. Their happily-ever-after moment is fleeting, as the couple will face a tough decision next season when Jo must decide between going to Mass Gen for a fellowship or becoming an attending physician at Grey Sloan.

9. Arizona Moves to New York

Like Sarah Drew, Jessica Capshaw also departed from Grey's Anatomy by the end of season 14. In the penultimate episode of this season, we find out that Arizona will leave for New York for the sake of her daughter Sofia. Arizona had planned to return to pediatric surgery, but gets an amazing opportunity to develop a fetal surgery facility with her mentor Dr. Nicole Herman, who agrees to base the project in New York. Given her text exchanges with Callie at Jo and Alex's wedding, we also have a strong feeling that Calzona will reignite in the Big Apple.

Phew, what a season, right? Although we're slightly scared that the show might end in a few years, we'll be keeping our chins up for season 15.

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