BUT YOU ALL!!!! WITCH YOONGI LEARNING HOW TO HEX THINGS AT HIS WITCH SCHOOL SO THE FIRST THING HE DOES IS HEX HIS HOUSE TO MAGICALLY HAVE TREATS APPEAR FOR HIS WOLF PUP BABY. The elder knows just how sad Taehyung can get when he has to leave for school every day and it literally breaks his heart to hear the quiet little whines the small lump under his blankets let out every morning. He can remember learning that when wolf pups first imprint on their partners, platonic or romantic, it’s especially hard for them to be apart. Once he learns hexes and certain spells, Yoongi decides to use them to make his pup happy.
“Yoonie do you have to go?!”
It’s seven in the morning and Yoongi is already sighing out as he looks at the small body wrapped around his leg. Taehyung, as tiny and as cute as he is, can be quite heavy thanks to wolf side and Yoongi just can’t afford to be late to class again. The witch decides to tease his puppy a bit by smirking and bending down to hold onto the small hand that is engulfed in his.
“Yes I have to go but Hyung promises if you behave there will be a lot of surprises today.”
Just like he expected, Taehyung is instantly letting go of Yoongi’s leg to stare at the witch with wide excited eyes.
The first treat comes from the bathroom sink. Taehyung is in the middle of brushing his teeth, like the good puppy he is, and right, as he opens the tap to rinse his mouth, one of his favorite candies is falling out instead of water. Poor little Taehyung squeaks out a surprised yelp as he thinks he’s broken the sink and quickly runs out of the bathroom to find Min mommy.
The elder women takes one look at Taehyung’s wide baby blue eyes and the toothpaste all over the pups chin and lets her own fond breath out.
“MIN MOMMA! THE SINK!! TAEHYUNGGIE TRIED TO BRUSH HIS TEETH BUT A CANDY CAME OUT!! I DIDN’T BREAK IT I PROMISE!”
Mrs. Min mentally curses out her son.
The next treat happens right in front of Yoongi’s grandmother. It’s closer to lunch time now and Taehyung is still slightly shocked from the candy falling out of the skin, he hasn’t really thought about Yoongi as much as he normally would. This time the pup is sitting at the kitchen table watching Yoongi’s grandmother make snacks while she tells old stories of a coven she once belonged in.
The women’s words are suddenly cut when Taehyung yelps again.
Taehyung doesn’t even question how his favorite treats just suddenly appeared in place of the empty plate that had been sat on the table. The elderly women smile as she watches the cute puppy happily munching on the treats.
“Oh Yoongi, you are already so whipped for him” is all she can think.
By the time Yoongi has returned from school, Taehyung has had everything from his cup filling itself with his favorite juices to the tv flipping itself on to his favorite show during his normal nap in front of the tv time. The front door opens as the witch enters his home and for once he’s surprised to not have Taehyung running straight onto him to hold his hand. In fact, Yoongi is surprised by the lack of Taehyung noise there is at all.
“Taehyunggie?” Yoongi calls out curiously.
He’s stopped however by his mother letting out a cough and staring at him with a raised eyebrow by her spot int he kitchen.
“He’s asleep in the living room, he had so many treats today he got sleepy, you spoil him too much.”
Yoongi shrugs and walks to his boy to link his hand with the sleeping pups.
I can imagine that after Sandor and Arya were told that Lysa was dead and all of his options were shot he probably thought “Fuck it. I guess she’s my kid now”. He wouldn’t be the best but there are worse fathers in Westeros.
AN: Apparently we’re doing this fic this way now. At least Robb’s a polite character to write for. Please read and let me know what you think.
The warmth of the
hearth in the Great Hall made it one of my favorite places on snowy, wet
northern days. I often frequented the Hall, where I could feel less like a
recluse and stay warm at the same time. I walked as quickly as I could without
breaking into an obvious sprint down the corridor toward the Hall, all but
daydreaming of the heat of the fire.
On the other side of the doors,
however, I was met with a curious sight. The six Stark children, Jon Snow
included, were gathered around the hearth. They were huddled around something on
the floor and all seemed quite distracted by it. Whatever it was, it was making
odd, whining noises. Interested, I approached the group of siblings. There was
a gap between Robb and Sansa, and I managed to wiggle between them to see what
had the Starks’ attention.
okay so i love your mika and yuu headcanons what r ur thoughts on mikayuu animal omegaverse?
If Yuu and Mika were animals, Mika would be a kitten or cub because he has cat eyes, fangs, and looks fluffy and adorable.
Yuu would be a wolf pup because his hair is messy and goes all sorts of ways, he’s an angry and aggressive boy that likes to take what he wants, and he also has puppy eyes in my opinion.
Mika comes from a family of wild cats, and Yuu from a wolf pack. Their families hate each other and compete over the food. Kitten Mika and Wolf!Yuu meet on accident while practicing on hunting for game, and they end up becoming attached to one another. Kitten!MIka teases wolf!Yuu a lot and frequently tells Yuu he smells like a wet dog to annoy him much like his teasing of Yuu’s bad tasting blood in canon.
Sometimes wolf!Yuu gives kitten!Mika his game because he notices him starving and only puts Mika in this exception. Wolf!Yuu gets beaten and bullied for it by his pack after wolf!Guren, his dad who has high expectations of him becoming the next Alpha wolf, finds out he gave their game to a member of a rival clan.
Wolf!Yuu and kitten!Mika just cuddle and lick each other, there really isn’t anything sexual about their relationship. I’mma stop now before I end up writing a fic here rofl, but it’ll def be on my to-write list when I have time to write my YuuMika fics.
So maybe he had made his way all the way back to the U.S. to check on one fucking kid, big deal. He had to somewhat clear his conscious before putting himself back on ice, and after hearing how young kid he almost punched is, checking on the brat is part of that conscious clearing.
It just so happens that this particular brat, after a week of observation, is a reckless little shit as well as a brat. Great. Just his luck. There’s no doubt that this kid, Peter, has his heart in the right place, he’s just a bit of a train wreck. ‘No way’, he told himself, ‘I’m too fuckin’ old to be dealing with little bouncy web kids. No goddamn way.’
Yet two weeks later, here he still is, grabbing said little bouncy web kid by the scruff of his neck like a wolf pup with his left hand. “Whatthe hell do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, pulling Peter into an alleyway so the cops driving passed don’t see the brightly colored vigilante. “They’re going to a damned armed robbery with shots fired, kid.”
I stood nervously at the door, waiting for the yellow glow of headlights to appear in my driveway. I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt. Come on, Herminia, I told myself. If you can set la patria free with your poetry, you can do this.
My wolf pup, Douglass (named after one of my heroes), waddled over to my feet and stared at me with his enormous eyes. I smiled and stroked his fur, which was a soft as Spanish moss. “You be good for Papa and Mama while I’m gone, okay, Dougie?”
Douglass continued to gaze into my eyes, unlike most wolf pups his age did. It must have been genetic.
Suddenly, I heard the screeching of tires on the asphalt. I threw open the Dutch doors and watched as he stepped out of the car.
Thad was a handsome young man who had long black hair and eyes the color of rainbow trout. He had asked me out on a date to a Fourth of July celebration at a local farmer’s market. Though I was against celebrating the holiday (I even wrote a poem about it), I couldn’t resist because Thad was just so cute.
He smiled at me. “Ready to go, my pup?”
I giggled and skipped down the steps to the driveway. From inside the house Papa yelled, “Close the doors!”, but I paid him no attention. After all, I was living my life to defy him.
I slid into the passenger seat. The car wasn’t Thad’s; he had borrowed it from his friend Martin, who was renting it. It smelled deliciously of octane gas.
Thad and I grinned at each other, and we were off. In about (x+y)(x+2y) minutes, we arrived at the market.
The sky was darkening, and people were gathered at various booths and tables. Thad selected a fold-out table for us to sit at. He gazed in wonder at the crowd. “Great holiday, isn’t it?”
“For you, yes. For slaves, not so much.” I stopped before I could say more. Oops. Had I insulted him?
Thad either didn’t hear me or didn’t care, for he was too busy hungrily eyeing a sack of potatoes at one farmer’s booth. “Man. It’s a shame how there are so many different kinds of potato chips and not enough kinds of potatoes, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” It was true.
“All this talk of food is making me hungry,” Thad sighed wistfully. He turned to me. “Is there anything you want?”
“I’ll go with you,” I said.
We stood up and made our way to the concession stand. I looked at the menu. “I think I’ll have a salad and some water.” Lately I was trying to watch my weight. Didn’t want anything too fattening. Thad looked like a weight-watching sort of guy, too.
“That’s all?” he said. “Alright.” He turned to the lady running the stand and declared, “I’ll have 14 sandwiches, 4 salads, 35 cookies and 23 bottles of water, please.”
The lady looked surprised, but quickly recovered from her initial shock and said, “That’ll be $149 dollars.”
“Okay.” Thad pulled his wallet from his pants pocket and handed her a wad of cash. In return, he received a stack of three big cardboard boxes. I offered to carry one, but he waved me off and hobbled back to the table.
Thad gave me my pathetic little salad and water bottle and began stuffing his face with his own food. “Sho,” he mumbled between bites, “do you pway an inshtorment?”
Inshtorment? Instrument! I shook my head. “Not unless you count pen and paper. In that case, I’m a musician.”
Thad nearly spit out his entire mouthful of food. “But playing an instrument helps increase brain function!” He paused and blushed. “I-I mean, not that you’d need to, anyway. You’re smart already.”
I chuckled and looked at the ground.
A delightful smell wafted through the air. Thad sniffed it longingly. “Mmm. Fish. If I didn’t have so much food I’d go buy some of that.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “It’s farm-raised, you know. Wild caught fish is so much better. Did you know you can get sea lice from farm-raised fish?”
Thad looked hurt. “I don’t have sea lice. Anyway, farm-raised fish is much better. Did you hear about what they do to those tilapia pens? They submerge them in lake water. It has a great affect on the taste of the fish.”
“You mean effect,” I corrected him. “Affect is a verb.”
“No, it IS affect,” Thad shot back.
“It’s effect, Thad. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I’m a writer.”
So the great “affect-effect” debate lasted forever. Once we finally settled on “effect” (thank God), I felt awful. I just wanted to DELETE the conversation.
The sky was black now, and the fireworks were starting. Everyone “oohed” and “ahhed” at the colorful display—that is, everyone but me.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Herminia?” Thad whispered. He wasn’t upset anymore.
I was seething with anger. “You know what this represents?” I said quietly.
My patience snapped. “AMERICAN SLAVERY!” I screamed.
Everyone else had turned to stare at me, just as a huge firework exploded above their heads.
Thad frowned. “You know what. I’m going home.” He stood up and stormed off, not before grabbing his leftovers.
I marched after him, almost relieved. I had made my point. I had showed that oppressor—no, those oppressors—what July Fourth was really all about.
The car ride home was silent and awkward. Once we pulled into my driveway, I immediately left the car and slammed the door behind me. Thad sped off, never to speak to me again.
Later that night, I curled up on my bed with my pen and paper, Douglass snuggled up next to me. Though our relationship was a flash in the pan, I was a little sad it had ended so abruptly. However, a sense of pride washed over me, and I began writing, grinning.
Not only had I set la patria free—I had set my heart free, too.