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An exercise in plumbing

Summary: Jake messed up, what a surprise. Now he has to find refuge from the harsh winter temperatures. Along come Kevin and Holt, who really should have seen this coming.

The white isolation thingy that was “supposed“- to keep his pipes from freezing, melted under the extreme heat of Jake's hairdryer like a marshmallow at summer camp.

No, not good! Thinking about the delicious, soft, gooey snack would just make him hungry, as well as cold!

Winter had taken hold of Brooklyn fast. Almost with as much vigor as Amy had launched herself into this new 'paper- filling-super-important-system- conference - on the other side of the country, thank god!

The cheerful ringtone of his smartphone halted Jake's thoughts, now circling around s'mores.

Damn it!

One hand holding the hairdryer high above his head, the other reaching for his pocket, Jake supposed he made quite a good Statue of Liberty impression.

"Hey, Charles... not the best time, Bud." The ladder under him swayed threateningly, as to drive Amy’s point about the safety hazard of not using ladders appropriately further home.

"Hey, Jake. Just wanted to make sure if you’re okay!? I mean I would love to have you inside, with me,-" "-Charles! I wish you wouldn't say it that way!"

But as always, his complaints about “the misuse of language“ fell on deaf ears. "-but with my whole family over, there simplify isn't any more room. Although, if we squeezed reeeeally tight, we could-"

"You know what Charles, that's totally fine!" Jake interjected hastily "I'll manage. I mean, I am a grown adult, I can take care of a few pipes? That is what grown men do! Fixing pipes, and stuff...right?"

"You know, as your BFF, I have the utmost faith in your abilities, but perhaps you should call Terry, or Rosa?"

"Whaaaaat, noooo! Terry would crumble in an interrogation with Amy superfast and Rosa would snitch on me as soon as I offend her the next time. No, Amy cannot know! I mean even if I hadn't forgotten to raise the temperature- which, I didn't- it seems quite wasteful! Heating the space, when nobody is home, right!?"

 So, being the responsible adult and enviromentalist that he was, Jake snuck into the precinct. No one would be the wiser, all his coworkers were part of the day shift at the 99. And the night shift wouldn't care about another soul in their warm office anyway. Although, watching Gary make his way through the room, moving sluggishly like a Zombie stalking for brains, ‘souls‘ was probably a too good a word to use here.

Said creature of the night regarded him with eyes dulled by years of exposure to darkness and fluorescent computer screens in equal measures. He sniffed once, and continued to shuffle farther. Having lost all ability to recognize a mere mortal snack, even when standing right before him.

Jake sniffed his Jacket. It wasn't that ba - never mind!

 Like John McClane he weaved through the office of fiends and made his way to the Captain's office. As long as he didn't disturb one of the bazillion accurately arranged things, he could catch a warm nap there, without Captain Da- Holt being the wiser.

'Smort!' His brain proudly announced.

 Though, that thought froze as quickly as his pipes when the door to the office swung open and out stepped Holt, followed by an immaculate dressed Kevin.

 "Peralta?"

"Kevin!"

"Jake?"

"Captn' '" 

…

Ah, the soothing sound of silence, grating like sand in an engine.

Gary stumbled past them grunting something that was probably the Ghul equivalent of a 'Hey".

 "So, Jake. What are you doing here?" Holt's right eyebrow climbed about a millimeter higher up his brow. God-damn, that was Holt for: I am extremely startled and suspicious! Come now Jake, think of something... something normal, fitting for you…

"Ah, you know. Just starting to work early, I’d hate to be late!"

Yeah, that's just great. As expected of the current amazing genius / detective.

A deep sigh escaped Kevin. "Come now Peralta, out with the truth! The sooner you admit what you did, the sooner we can leave!"

"Whaaaaat, I didn't do anything, that's prepostous" "-preposterous" Holt corrected "that's what I said! I can talk like a grown person and am in no way searching for a warm room to spend the night because I messed up and let my pipes freeze!"

„So, you did not turn the heat up enough?!“ Both husbands helpfully supplied. „Well, no! But I wanted to get more resistant to cold temperatures, anyway! So that’s just like, part of my super, awesome, ninja training program!“

Without another word the two adults looked at each other and resumed their way to the elevator. Jake, counted that as a win. Coming out of the argument without a stern talking to, or a lecture seemed a win on all fronts! As he turned to Holt’s office Kevin voice stopped him, mid-step. „Peralta. We do not have all night! Come, please.“ Jake turned and felt his heart clench, in a probably unhealthy manner. If the tugging on his heartstrings was a result of the cholesterol of his nacho gummy bear diet, currently blocking his blood vessels, or the scenery before him, he didn't know.

Holt and Kevin both standing at the elevator entrance…, but turned towards him. Waiting! As if, it was the most natural thing, to expect Jake to come with them, without a second thought! 

„Please, do hurry. I would hate to miss the Midnight news!“ Holt added.

At the end of the day, Jake thought, suffering through the boring news broadcast, was a small price to pay for sitting on a warm couch, beside Kevin and Holt, feeling his eyes drop with each added, extremely boring word.

Book report

TES IV Oblivion

Summary: Ocheeva is disturbed, Vicente intrigued by the newest addition's choice of passing their time

Ocheeva rounded the corner of the damp, dark halls of the Sanctuary. Her light leather boots felt like lead weights, enclosing weary feet begging her to sleep right here, on the cold floor. It was this exhausted state that she blamed for the seemingly apparition that greeted her.

The Argonian woman was a killer with a heart closed to any kind of mercy or hesitation. The gruesome things she'd seen- being cause of quite a few of them herself- never had made her pause,... not like this unnatural scene before her.

Their newest recruit sitting, legs crossed in a dignified manner on a stool and reading? A book!?

"What exactly are you doing there?" She felt a little proud that her voice didn't shake like the world she had known, threatening to collapse at any given moment. The newest child of the mother didn't even spare her a glance. "Reading. "

"You don't read... you... don't even have the attention span for it!" Well, not even Lucien would have blamed her for the small trembling quality her voice adopted.

Vicente Valtieri wandered through the halls, deeply satisfied with his recent "evening stroll". His curiosity was however picked as he witnessed a seemingly disturbed Ocheeva flee the community hall. Against his better judgement he started his investigation.

Finding their newest addition... of course, who else? "What do you think you are doing, my dear?"

"Obviously reading! Honestly, is it so hard to believe that I do enjoy some culture?!" The vampire hummed softly, his soft steps circling the other assassin like his evening's prey. The faint scent of unease tainting the air answered his advances. "And what, my dear, in Orsino's theory of Magic seems to have captivated your interest so? Hmm?"

"I must say his different approach to destruction magic... is quite... ah... refined?!" Chuckling the Vicente rested his palms on either side of the stool and leaned in. Invading the personal space of the new member. "Astonishing, and here I thought Orsino only wrote about the history of Nords!"

The ensuring sputtering was almost adorable enough to bring a smile onto his face, but he held his boring gaze nonetheless as a new excuse was presented to him. "Well, than you... haven't read as attentive... as you think... because in chapter... ah... there is this..."

"My dear." Here he leaned even further in, their noses almost touching. His crimson stare almost hypnotic.

"You are holding the book upside down!"

A part of the family

a/n: I blame thank @supervillain-smut for pushing me down the fandom abyss of TES Oblivion once more. I always had a feeling that the Dark Brotherhood was like a little dysfunctional family. Here we have Lucien Lachance and Vicente Valtieri bringing in the reader as a new recruit. Nothing could go wrong here, right?

Inviting a new assassin into Sithi's arms, to become a part of their small family, was always a cause for debate in the sanctuary. No matter, for Lucien was the speaker and as speaker he was steadfast in his choice!

Certainly, the way the new child of the night had picked their mother's interest... was unorthodox to say the least.

Pushing an adoring fan from the peak of a mountain- after having the elf carry all their utensils, food and armor up such heights- was certainly not very subtle, but Lucien supposed ruthlessness was also a decisive factor in the election.

Three days and two contracts later he was certain he had brought ruin and chaos upon them all! Like the gates of Oblivion opening and flinging destruction unto the mortal realm, the newest recruit was busy causing mayhem and destitution wherever they went.

Sithis help him! Who started a drinking game in the middle of an inn frequented by Nords, resumed to drink the last of them under the table and then finish their contract in a alcohol induced stupor!?

The soft but exasperated voice of Vicente drifted through the dark corridors like a thick mist, greeting the Speaker on his arrival at the Sanctuary. "What am I to do with you?" The long weary sigh was interrupted by shattering teeth. "Come now Vic, it was the perfect alibi! No one would have believed it was me after the amount of Ale I downed!" The newest assassin was wrapped in a mountain of blankets, but still held a certain ounce of pride in their voice.

Vicente, after the two previous "solutions" to difficult situations, by now accustomed to the deranged mind of his new charge, ignored the undignified nickname. After all there were far more pressing matters at hand!

"Yes, the perfect alibi! Pray tell, how did you wind up with severe hypothermia again?"

Oh this was getting quite entertaining! Lucien hovered in the Shadows witnessing the mumbled response.

"I am sorry my dear, my old ears seem to have suffered in the last decades. Care to repeat that?"

"I-thought-it-would-be-funny-to-steal-a-imperial-legion-horse-and-ride-into-a-snow-storm... in my underwear...."

"You know, sometimes I am quite unsure if you aren't send by Sheogorath himself. If Ocheeva hadn't found you passed out snoaring in the snow, you'd be dead now! I do not care if you managed to finish every contract without anyone being suspicious- Sitith only knows how you managed that!"

When the assassin opened their shattering teeth to respond, the usual calm Vampire raised a pale hand. "Cease your explanations! Clearly you can't be trusted to fulfill your duties responsibly. So, I am sure the Speaker agrees with me that you won't leave the Sanctuary until you found some sense!"

Here, red eyes found Lucien, the Shadows engulfing him no match for the ancient bloddy stare. Not showing his unease at being spotted like an inept farm hand playing pretend, Lucien smiled. A smile so full of cold steel that even the resident undead had to suppress a shiver.

"Actually, the mother has a new life to bring into her embrace, my child."

His announcement was met by a betrayed stare of Vicente. Who's face had somehow begun to show his true age, with the heavy sigh- also a newly acquired habit- he turned and stalked into the depths of the Sanctuary. The dark welcoming him like a lost lover.

The vampire's retreat was met by a nervous shuffle of blankets and a hollow crash, as the newest recruit and hope of their family, got stuck in the offensive wool and tumbled helplessly to the ground.

Sithis help him!

Hogwarts Winter Headcanons

a/n: Seeing as I am suddenly enveloped by a thick bucket load blanket of snow I have to clear away later, I decided to post some Winter headcanons for our lovely Hogwarts residents.

-It's cold... really, extremely freaking cold in the corridors. Not even magic can trope the sheer energy output you'd have to meet in order to heat the endless winding space of the castle.

Naturally, some people just know how to use this to their advantage. One moment you are shivering and certain you will become an ice statue before you reach your next lesson, in the next instant you are enveloped by a heating charm. So of course, any sane person would stay on the narrow, cozy path provided by the charm. Right?

Until you round a corner and a projectile of something violet and glittery is launched, with a heavy boom, directly in your face.

Through the golden glitter, still waving around in the harsh breeze, you can make out two red heads, grinning from ear to ear.

So, apparently the stuff seems to be impossible to remove- if a merrily, from head to toe stained green headmaster is any indication- you stare down at the mess of your robes and ask yourself, how many brain cells you'd have to lose with age, in order to skip around and sing a tune like Dumbledore under these circumstances.

Though, you have to admit there is a certain charm to see Snape hurry down to the dungeons, sporting a daring new colour palette of pink and baby blue.

-Drinking tea at Hagrids in the pre evenings in front of a crackling fire. The smell of Pinewood filling the somewhat damp cabin. The howling and rattling of the storm against the rafters, a relaxing backdrop as you both happily discuss magical creatures...

...perhaps you also let Snape's humiliation slip in there somewhere.

-Filch being even more cranky than usual. But you suppose that's to be expected, the man has to clear the floors from snow without magic after all. First, when you grabbed a shovel, he started eying you with a mistrust that can be only acquired by suffering under the Weasley twins fow nearly a decade.

Eventually, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, only broken by the sound of shovels scraping against old stone and snow. Filch never mentions it but you are sure you see his scowl, reserved for your fellow students, soften when he sees you. For his standards that's almost an adoption! Also, he seems to threaten you less with hanging you from the thumbs than all the others.

-You started to really love this darned weather when you had the divine privilege to witness Lucius Malfoy, striding down the castle way, dignified and with the utmost elegance, slip on a patch of ice and land face first in the snow.

His hasty looks to the side, checking if anyone had seen, and than being greeted by an over enthusiastic Fang who salivated on his pristine robes. A puff beside you, and five minutes later Colin Creevy had printed you your very own copy of a tiny Lucius, hair askew, slobber on his cloak and a murderous expression, trying to run out of the tiny picture frame.

-Seeing students leave the hospital wing with steaming ears due to the potions against the cold. It's also the only time one can catch Snape in the there, helping the overworked Mediwitch and tending to really sick students. Later, said students think that the far less stern and somehow soothing presence the bat of the dungeons exhibited, was a friction of their fever induced delirium.

-A big glass of juice being distributed at each meal. If a student has the audacity to forget to drink the healthy, but disgusting concoction Sprout mixed together with Snape, they are chased down by the floating glass without mercy.

Things to do while on lock down

• Try to cook

• Realize you suck at cooking

• Buy some rhubarb for the first time - can't be that hard to make it, right?

• Is rhubarb supposed to explode in your microwave!? #askingforafriend

• Finally, some time to get back to drawing

• Spending hours on shading a picture

• Make an annoying mistake

• Not to worry, you have an eras...

• Contemplate if buying an eraser would be worth facing the toilet-paper-apocalypse outside

• Start up skyrim

• Mod skyrim

• Try to start it up after installing the 100th mod

• Try to decide if you should hit yourself or the PC

• I mean... that poor guy is already crashing under the stress you put it through

Being stuck Winchester style

So in order to hopefully cheer some of you folks up: Have some headcanons about you being stuck with the Winchesters at this time. Please regard the current regulations in your country. We all got a responsibility to our society. Please be kind and remember most people are momentarily as stressed as you are, so please try to be kind.

I hope all of you stay healthy and for those who celebrate easter: Happy Easter! :)

• "Please, what did I do to deserve this?!" You wailed. "Don't be over dramatic, just go." Dean grumbled over his shoulder, eyes fixed on the millionth rerun of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "Dean... just know that I love the two of you, if anything happens to me out there..." "Yeah, we get it. We remember you as a hero. Now go... and don't forget the PIE!"

• Once you reached the supermarket you decided that all your life being trained as a hunter, all those hours of rigours training, all the monsters you slayed... had absolutley not prepared you for doing the local shopping trip. What were people even doing with all that toilet paper? Building a miniature Buckingham palace?!

• "I'm back guys!" Dean slouched into the kitchen, still rocking his fluffy bathrobe. "Hey, did you get the-" "There was no pie, Dean. The pie is a lie." "What!?" But all hope left his eyes once he saw you mournfully hand him over a piece of pastry. "I fear that is all we have left, my friend."

• The new treadmill and your saved progress on it had once been your pride and joy. However, since the quarantine began Sam had taken a liking to it. Now you glared at the digital numbers indicating a new best time that wasn't yours. Later that evening a flabbergasted Cas entered the living room. "Does anybody know why y/n is currently running on the treadmill like Lucifer herself was standing behind her?" Sadly his inquiry was never answered as the brothers were currently wrestling for the remote. "I swear to God Dean if I have to hear Xander's voice one more time..." Dean's foot held his brother at bay. "No one wants to see your boring news channel Sam!"

• Surprisingly, Dean is responsible for all the cooking. Even more astonishing was that he is really good at it. Although, it was kinda unnerving to see him in an apron at first. He threatened to burn your bacon when you tried to take a picture.

• Dean made it a point to have a regular morning breakfast together. Sam actually smiled the first time and remarked: "It's kinda nice actually, for once having breakfast like normal people."

• Dean has a great taste in music... but lord help you if you have to hear Unforgiven once more not even his Shotgun is going to save him.

• Sadly, your and Sam's murder stare does little to intimidate him. Once the woeful guitar sounds were attacking you ears once more he simply raised a cocky eyebrow, reached for the stereo and turned the dial way up.

• You are pretty sure Sam has been hit by a Djin, due to the fact that he seems to suffer the delusion that he is a personal trainer. All day he tries to incorporate a healthy lifestyle on all your routines. He even got Cas to try some pushups - boy that was a mistake...

• Once the visitor rules were releaxed again Crowley did decide to pop in and see how his most hated humans were doing. He found the kitchen on fire, a somewhat scorched Cas- was the man sniffling!?- Sam wielding a fire extinguisher, while Dean and you tried to save the food. "Yep." The demon concluded.

"The world couldn't be in better hands."

Studying 101

Some of us have exams coming up. So I wrote a Little Cas trying to be supportive of you, trying to pass whatever specialty you doomed yourself to.

Please excuse the not quite up to par quality, but I quickly wrote this while studying for my own Doomsday tomorrow. 

I wish you all the best of luck on your exams! If you want, let us know what Evil sorcery you learn for in the comments. 

“Let’s see… a equals b as long as… no that can’t be right?!“ For what it was worth, you were pretty sure that the equation supernatural hunter times college equaled long coffee fueled nights of endless fighting — and that wasn’t considering the monster hunting part of your life.

Scratching your head you readjusted your position on the ratty motel bed, and started scribbling in your notes. It took some time but soon you were in the zone, you found your flow, your Zen, this was easy all you had to do was — Crash!

A body flew tough the window and landed in an undignified heap in front of your bed. “Hey, Cas! You alright?“ You were too tired to put any real emotion behind the question. Having an almost immortal angel as a friend had the tendency to make getting shot, stabbed, or run over by a drunken vampire's SUV — don’t ask — seem like a paper cut in comparison.

Said celestial, higher being only grunted while getting off his ass.

Shrugging you went back to your work. “So, if I quadrate the equation then, …“ The door was kicked open with enough force to send splinters of wood flying everywhere. The gigantic half man, half Ox rammed into a now very much distraught angel. “Cas, you’re sure you don’t need no help from anybody?“

“Yes! Just focus on your work!“ The man winced while getting punched in the gut.

That was dedication for you, the mother hen momentarily getting pummeled to death had insisted on you getting a degree after you had confessed to him that it would never be possible, considering the shit dumpster that was your life.

Cas was sweet like that! Though, looking at your exercise sheet, you weren’t that sure anymore. After another involuntary flying lesson for the kind man any hope for getting this stuff into your head evaporated.

Clap. The books hit the ground as you advanced the... whatever this weeks freaks special was. “Look buddy, I have no time for this. So do all of us a favor and shut your trap!“

The last thing the Ox saw was a pair of hands grabbing a shotgun — laying between sheets of equations and illegible scribbles- and the terrified eyes of his former angel victim. “Oh, shit!!!“

BAM

Headcanons for being the newest - and possibly worst - deatheater:

— "I must be the one to kill Harry -" crunch "-Potter!?" the Dark Lord finished lamely a murderous glint igniting in his crimson eyes as he turned to you. An unsettling silence engulfed the long table and all of a sudden your 'potato chip munching' rose in volume as if someone was blasting it on a boombox in the library. You paused mid crunch "Sorry, my Lord I didn't mean to make your statement seem... anti-climatic.". When the apology, accompanied by wet crumbs flying through the air did little more than add disgust to the furious expression of the deadly wizard you did the only thing to turn this around: "Okay guys, who is up for killing Potter!?" Sadly, your present colleagues didn't seem to catch on to your fake enthusiastic cheering. "Well, some people obviously need to work on their dedication!"

— It was a mystery to Lucius how your disrespectful, annoying existence hadn't ended right then and there. Now, he had to suffer the idiotic newcomer. "Get ready, the children must be here any minute. Potter needs to get the prophecy so don't harm him. The rest-" his mask obscured the disturbing smile stretching over his face but did little to hide the malice bleeding into his voice "-are to be disposed off."

...

"Sooo, ... do you guys stand around and wait for things to happen a lot?" Malfoy's knuckles turned white while clenching his wand and Bellatrix was mustering you, seemingly trying to decide if she had lost her last bit of sanity now. "Just asking... I mean I love being part of this-" some undefined waving motions followed "I just didn't imagine there would be so much waiting involved."

Only the fear of his Lord's wrath made Lucius contain his anger -somewhat. "Shut your mouth and do what you're told!" "Right, the waiting thing, got it." A deep sigh rose from the Slytherin. "Just find the damn children!"

— Astonishingly becoming best buds with Greyback: At first he tried to creep you out by sniffing you in the 'I'm-a-big-bad-wolf-way' but you just seemingly unaffected stated: "I know! I do smell tasty!"

— This is a match made in the deepest pits of hell. The only thing more disturbing than Greyback creeping behind everyone is to add you, standing around sporting your lazy smile. Though, inseperable your attitudes clash famously.

— At some point you're the one wearing a colorful outfit to a meeting. It sure felt like Elton John, in full stage wear, attending a funeral.

— Taking the meeting seriously has become increasingly more difficult since your arrival.

— The Dark Lord giving you the most dangerous and impossible missions, ignoring Belatrix's screeching 'Let me do it!' With each mission he is content in the belief that he finally managed to kill you, however, some higher force seems to have you planted on this earth to haunt him: You survive any encounter with Dementors, Aurors and Dumbledore's men.

— A betting pool on what would finally do the deed and kill you was established by Snape and Lucius. Unbeknownst to them Greyback placed 'his bet' on 'Chocking on Popcorn during a long monologue of our Lord' on your behalf.

At his bewildered expression you simply shrug. "It's how I'd love to go out. You know: Fighting the good fight!"

Being a security officer onboard Voyager would involve:

- At first you always felt intimidated by Tuvok's presence. As head of security the man's calm demeanor has a way of making everyone working under him uneasy. When the silence stretches endlessly while he ponders your report you can't help but doubt yourself: Have you messed up? Was the report too short?

At his small nod and 'Satisfactory' you're relived. As time drags on you grow used to it, and even welcome the silence.

-Somehow his calm contemplating stare has replaced your former rambling. Leaving your friends to wonder if something is wrong. B'lana is somewhat unnerved by this - which annoys her. Seven of nine seems to approve of your newfound approach and can be found more often joining you in the mess hall these days.

- To say you and the Doctor have a rocky relationship would be the understatement of the century. "How in the world did you manage to get hurt while on a supply run!? Did you trip over your own feet?" His screeching usually provokes an equally annoyed retort: "You're right Doc, I should have left those aliens to burn down all our supplies. I'm sure the crew would be more than content with eating Nelix's Liola soup for the rest of the trip."

If Tom is on duty he is always snickering in the background. Relishing in the fact that you're the one being lectured by the Hologram, not him.

"Damn it, I am a doctor not a babysitter! Try to keep your head down once in a while!" However, the harsh words do not fool Tom, who sees the Doctor load a somewhat unnecessary Hypospray with pain medication. He can't help but muse that if he had been the patient the Doc would have simply ordered him to: 'Suck it up! I trust you're a grown man... at least physically."

- Being called into the Captain's ready room and freaking out. God what had you done?! When you arrive you are calm and collected, on the outside- thanks to Vulcan influence - but a screaming puddle on the inside. You take all of your remaining courage to face the feared Captain Janeway's wrath, just to be met with an amused expression. "Your reputation proceeds you Ensign. I've heard great things about you!"

You leave the room half an hour later feeling like you're floating. Never before had someone took so much time to compliment your achievements and give you valuable hints to improve in areas you weren't as skilled- 'yet' your Captain had added with a twinkle in her brown orbs.

- If Tom was jealous at first about your unusual relationship with the Doc- no, he was simply annoyed by the man ranting more than usual, thank you very much- he had to cut you some slack after you saved his behind from a phaser shot... and a charging bear like alien... and that time the Borg drone tried to assimilate him.

On the last away mission, involving both of you, Janeway simply commented: "And take our good Ensign with you Tom, otherwise I fear we have to bring you back to the ship in a matchbox."

- Neither Pilot nor Security Ensign were happy with the forced teamship at first, but soon started to find some common ground on old Earth's movies. "You haven't seen it yet!? After this mission we have to remedy your lack of common knowledge Ensign. That's an order!" "Yes, sir!"

- B'lana isn't too eager about Tom's and your building friendship. Her interaction's with you are always brisk and devoid of any warmth.

Until, her boyfriend somehow manages to crash land on a moon and you risk your live by squeezing through the narrow passages in an abyss to save him. The half Klingon looks at you that evening, in the med bay, as if seeing you for the first time. Her eyes hold a grateful shimmer while a sly grin breaks onto her face. "Next time you safe his butt, please make sure it's fairly bruised before dragging him out: That way he'll remember not to get himself killed!" This is followed by a long suffering sigh from the pilot. "Please, not you as well! Doc, give me something to sleep, I'm in no condition to be ridiculed by these two!"

"Mr. Paris I think this 'ridicule' is the best medicine available for your reckless character. So as a doctor I can not, in good conscious, shield you from it."

Tom's face is a mixture of one part suffering and two parts annoyed. "Traitor!"

Headcanons for being the youngest Winchester sibling

— Seemingly being a mix between your brothers: Years of growing up with Dean's lack of table manners and Sam's annoyed stare were bound to rub off on you.

— Sharing Dean's love for Classic Rock and making fun of Sam's newest Pop jam together. At the same time giving Dean the annoyed Sam ™ expression when he sings corny Rock ballads.

— Surprisingly, Sam is the one who doesn't want you to join them on hunts. "Dean she is our sister, we can't subject her to such a life! She has a chance of getting out of this!"

"She is a Winchester and can kick your sissy ass if she has to!"

However, that doesn't mean Dean isn't extra protective of you on a hunt — it's extremely annoying.

— Castiel taking on a big brother role from the very start. You thought your brothers are protective!? Think again! Cas takes this to a whole new level:

You were just trying to unwind in a local bar!

"You should not go with this man/woman they have less than honorable intentions."

Sam can't stop grinning at this while Dean claps the angel's shoulder. "Cas, everyone has to blow off some steam once in a while." Then with a wink to your beet red face he adds: "Have fun kiddo."

— Crowley loves flirting with you in front of your 'three' brothers. At first, it was just about annoying the idiots. However, he was shocked when you picked up on his intentions — and at once started joining in.

— Castiel is the most affected by the demons advances towards you- which become less and less teasing, and more serious with time.

— Bobby is completly out of his element in deciding how to treat you: He eventually settles on talking to you like one of the guys.

— He is always bordering on awkward when he tries to talk about feminine subjects. Which he only does because someone has to talk to you about this stuff, right!? And god forbid it's those two idjits!

— Rowena somehow got the impression that she is the only good female role (model) in your life- considering the only competition is 'I-hack-into-the-Pentagon-Charlie' -not entirely unjustified, though 'good' is stretching it a bit

— When she 'participates' in a hunt she teaches you small defencive spells. "A woman always comes prepared my dear!"

— To your great amusement, and Crowley's misfortune, she also likes to gossip with you about her sons teenage years, resulting in:

"Hey Crowley, is it true you used to wear skirts without your undies on? Daring!"

"It's called a kilt! Not that I'd trust a Winchester to know culture if it bid them in their behind!"

"Well, at least mine is fully clothed for the occasion."

The small Things

These are some of my headcanons for @happy-snape-week. 

@brewing-snapefest

Our esteemed potion master is a very private Person. While on my internship for the Daily Prophet I learned a few tricks from Rita Skeeter and so was able to bring you this report of Hogwarts most feared teacher’ s interactions:

⦁ Every Thursday evening there is a teacher meeting. All attribute Snape's sour mood on Friday to the fact that he had to suffer his colleagues presence. Only Minerva McGonagall knows that our dear potions master is suffering from a nasty hangover. The two of them have a ritual of drinking a glass of wine, or something stronger, after these meetings- usually a glass turns into quite a few. To this day Snape is mystified how the far smaller woman is able to hold her liquor better than him.

Hogwarts inhabitants often scratch their head at some interactions between the pair on Friday mornings. A very untypical cheerful greeting, from the otherwise so stoic witch, is often witnessed by students passing the teachers table at breakfast: "What a wonderful morning this is, don't you agree Severus!?"; or "Why do you look so glum today, my dear colleague?" are not uncommon to be heard.

This far to bright- and loud- mocking tone is often answered by an incomprehensible grumbling of Snape into his cup of coffee - he is clutching on to for dear life.

⦁ All the Slytherin's transgressions, while not punished by their head of house, is collected by Snape as ammunition against their annoying parents:

The most satisfactory use is interrupting Lucius Malfoy's monologues about the Malfoy's inherited elegance and intellect in Deatheater meetings. "Indeed, your son's exploding cauldron and his resulting boil covered face was a true enrichment of my lesson."

To this day Wormtail could have sworn he saw a quick mischievous grin pass over the dark lord's face at that particular exchange. It was disturbing.

⦁ You can always trust for Madam Pomfrey to fuss over Snape's health:

"Severus I swear to you: I'll force dinner down your throat personally if you don't start to attend meals regularly!" , "Severus you need to get out of that dungeon and see some sunlight! I almost mistook you for a ghost."

To everyone's surprise: There comes no angry retort or scathing remark from the bat of the dungeons, simply an annoyed growl- also one usually finds Severus attending meals more frequently after a tongue lashing by the mediwitch.

Snape will deny to his dying day that the annoyance at the woman's scolding is always mixed with a somewhat warm feeling spreading in his chest.

⦁ The Slytherin's head of house enjoys the sound of rain. On a stormy day he can be found in the owlery, abandoned from every sane student in this weather, peering over the grounds and listening to the relaxing drizzle of water hitting the ancient stone of the castle walls.

⦁ In the 'year of hell'-not named like this due to the Basilisk's rampage- as Lockhart was searching for a dueling partner, for his defense club, he asked Flitwick for advice. Flitwick's expertise in dueling was well-known- sadly the hero did not want to challenge a person older than himself: Otherwise, he would have of course loved to face him! The old Ravenclaw confined in Gilderoy, with a traitorous glint in his small eyes, that he considered Severus to be sometimes a little clumsy while dueling.

It was the first year Flitwick received a christmas present from Snape, attached with a letter reading: Some opportunities are hard to come by. Thank you for providing me with this one.

The year of hell marked the beginning of their Christmas gift exchange, as well as a monthly dueling practice. Sometimes McGonagall joins their 'infantile' measuring contest. More often than not the smallest wizard comes out on top, while the other two seem to be rather evenly matched- much to their ire and Flitwick's glee.

Their annoyance over a dueling-draw is known to enhance their annual quidditch competition- much to the horror of their students, except for Oliver Wood who thinks it motivates his team - it does not.

The other teachers are rather amused by their snark until questioned which team they are favoring. Obviously, Gryffindor or Slytherin are a bad response, but woe to the poor soul answering Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff: This results in both teachers bonding over the common enemy and voicing each weakness in the other house's teams.

⦁ There are certain rare plants, expensive potions ingredients, found only in the forbidden forest. Some mornings Severus finds a batch of them lying on his classroom table. On the other side of the grounds Hagrid is sometimes greeted by a bottle of Bourbon or a pepper up potion, in the cold weather, standing on his door step.

The two men have never exchanged a word over this: Passing nods is all they need to understand the other.

⦁ Professor Sprout is not surprised when in the middle of working on her plants she becomes aware of her fellow teacher striding through the Greenhouse. Snape once admitted that the ambiance helps him focus on certain problems. Although, the older woman catches him peering over her shoulder more frequently these days, she suspects even the personified student's nightmare enjoys calm companionship: Resulting in the seemingly 'increased rate of problems' the man claims to have nowadays.