dirty paws

[osullivanss]

medeaxbarnes·:

“Isn’t it though? Something an orange grower can truly be proud of!” She spoke with a light laugh, but that bright smile still on her lips. She didn’t notice him picking the orange until after she had already stood up and put the other one in her bag. Reaching over, she took the orange from him, admiring it a bit more before in her hands before it got put into the bag on her shoulders. “Well, I guess you are a little more height enabled than I am,” Medea joked a little, looking up at the tree a bit. “Although, I’ll have to warn you that even with the help I’m still probably going to climb back up into the tree and keep picking them. My sister would tell you it’s because I never learn, but who really knows!” The witch continued before moving towards the tree once more. “However, if you’d like to help, you’re more than welcome! And you can keep whatever you pick.” 

Cain chuckled, “I’d say so.” At 6′5″ it was scarce he ran into anyone who didn’t have to look up to meet his eyes or encountered an item out of his reach. “Maybe I outta climb into the tree for you.” Spare her the risk of falling out of the tree and breaking her arm. “I can toss the oranges down to you and you can tell me where to pick.” It wasn’t often Cain took instruction from anyone else, let alone a stranger. But this case seemed like a reasonable lapse in his usual standards. He trusted her opinion on selecting the best fruits more than his own, but he doubted her capabilities in the skill of picking. “Just let me keep a handful and we’ll call it even.” They would make for a good treat during his break at the construction site.

[osullivanss]

— @wren-staughton​

Logan wasn’t just an idiot. He was a damned jackass, a jackass who was about to get a beating he wouldn’t forget for the rest of his ruddy life.

As Cain stalked the streets of New Orleans, cobblestone streets carved up with night and the light of the moon, he didn’t bother contemplating whether his response was extreme. In his opinion, being in a pack meant earning your place, and not just once. It was a continual promise to be renewed over years, months, days, indefinitely. There was nothing more important than commitment to the pack, commitment to protecting their territory so their children could grow up safe and free, commitment to pulling your shit together and giving back what had been given to you.

No one was perfect, and Cain didn’t pretend to be a patient man. But he did believe he could be an understanding one when the circumstances demanded it. That was what being a leader meant, what being The Alpha, not just an alpha meant. It was looking after those who needed it most, taking risks so others could be spared the consequence, and confronting those who weren’t pulling their weight.

And Logan hadn’t been since Cain had taken leadership of the Lochaber pack.

Which was what led Cain to bounding up the stairs of a hotel, following the familiar scent of whiskey, lemon sour candy, and grease. He halted where the scent was thickest, body jerking to a stop. Cain didn’t bother knocking. Instead he gripped the golden handle and twisted, shoving his shoulder with enough force that the door burst open with the snap of wood. 

“Oh, so this is where you’ve been hiding out.” Lurking around some hotel room with what Cain assumed had to be some kind of paid attention because there was no way in hell Logan could get a woman that good looking on his own merit. “Get your clothes on.” He didn’t bother looking at the woman, crossing the room to yank Logan out of the sheets with a grunt. “I’ve got business with this one.”

[schreiberpablo]

Truth be told, I’m not the man I once was…

Happy St. Patrick’s Mad Sweeney Day!! 🍀

[osullivanss]

santana-ortega·:

Santana had a habit of keeping an eye on the supernatural whenthey were in 77. Especially the werewolves. Not because she had any badfeelings associated with them- her boss wasa werewolf, after all- but because the supernatural sometimes let theirguard down among their own kind. And with 77 being a human friendly bar- andnot all of the humans being in the know? It was sometimes prudent to be surethat they minded themselves and didn’t expose the truth. So, she watched thesupernatural, especially the werewolves who were oh so unpredictable. Not entirelytheir fault. The wolf could mean a temper.

Handing out the round of drinks on her tray the witch made her waytowards the pool table, flicking her fingers slightly as one of them nearlysent the ball off of the table and into the wall with enough strength that itdefinitely wouldn’t have seemed human. Her magic lashed out just strong enoughto keep the ball from going off of the table. Taking the last drink off of itand holding it out to the one that ordered it, turning towards Cain with aslight smile. “Be careful, boys,” the bartender urged. “A lot of humans in heretonight.”

As a regular at 77, Cain was familiar with Santana’s warnings. Although they were wellfounded and undeniably in the best interest of the supernatural community, Cain waved them off. “You worry too much.” He spoke good-naturedly, lips cracked by a smile.  Cain took the drink from her. “Maybe you outta take a break. Shoot a few holes.” He demonstrated at the table.

“The humans never notice anything. They’re too busy drinking and trying to find a lay for the night to pay any mind to us.” He took a sip of his drink. It was good. Always was. It was an unrealistic offer. The bar was as packed as any place like this would be in a city on a Friday night, and although Cain was typically prone to enforcing hard work and abhorred those who slacked on the job, especially when it came to his own pack members, he knew Santanna well enough to decide if anyone working tonight deserved a break it was probably her. Still, he let his pool cue rest on the side of the table. “Customers keepin’ you busy?”

[osullivanss]

malachai-dragoumis‌:

.Standing to the side of the pool table with a playful smirk spread across his lips, he lifted a brow as he watched his friend lean forward.  Like many superstitious adults, Malachai crossed one finger over the other as he murmured to himself for Cain to miss the hole and the moment he heard his friend swear, he chuckled to himself.  “Does this look like a face of some cocky person?”  Kai batted his eyelashes towards Cain, before he started to circle the table trying to find the right angle.

Once he found a good position, he leaned forward measuring the distance and what it would take to get the ball in the hole mentally.  Finally, he hit the white ball causing it to bounce off one of the walls and hit several balls causing a couple to scatter.  “Fuck, I want a redo.”  He exclaimed, as he titled his head back pretending to whine.  “Fairly sure my sister fucking hexed me. Also, sure it is your turn to get the next pitcher pretty boy.”

“Looks like the face of someone who’s about to lose.” And most definitely one of the cockiest bastards he knew. The fluttering eyelashes could attest to that. Cain reached for his glass again only to remember it was empty. He grumbled and set it down, leaning on the pool cue as he watched Kai line up to take his shot. Cain didn’t say anything. He didn’t pray for Kai to miss his mark or for the ball to tumble off course. He just watched with the same instinctual intensity he pushed into every other aspect of his life. 

But when the ball failed to find the hole, scattering the balls across the table in a haphazard burst, Cain barked out a laugh. “Ha!” He raised his cue in the air as though Kai’s failure had been his own victory. “Nah, your sister didn’t do shit.” Cain chuckled, already feeling a swell of overconfidence burning in his chest. “You’re just a damn sore loser.” He leaned over the table, seeing a perfect opportunity of trajectory and seizing it without consideration of his other options. the ball ricocheted off the wall, spinning across the table and into the hole with a snap. The force of his strike had left a dent in the wood, splintering the oak so the paler tones were exposed beneath the stain. Cain grimaced. “It’s still a point though.” He assured, jerking his head in Kai’s direction.

"Oh pretty boy, am I?” In reality, he was the furthest thing from it. Scrappy, unkempt, and undercoat of the stench of his day’s work lingering beneath his clothes. “If I’m so pretty maybe you outta treat me to a pitcher for the pleasure of my company.” Even as he said it he was already withdrawing the money from his wallet. 

A short trip from the bar and he was returning with another full pitcher. He took Kai’s glass for him and began filling it to the brim. “Ey,” he tilted his head. “See that girl with the pretty dark eyes? She’s got a big ass and a blue shirt.” Once he felt certain Kai had seen her, Cain continued. “She’s been lookin’ at you all night.”

[osullivanss]

helena-dragoumis·:

The moon wasn’t full but she was out basking in the moonlight anyway. Helena did this every now and again, she wandered out into the bayou to reconnect with nature. She had left her clothes up on the bank as she waded waist deep into the murky waters, unafraid of anything that might lurk below. Anything with a brain knew to avoid her, her magic alone let out a warning to any creature that might try and consider her prey. She murmured a few words, praising nature for her power as she smoothed the water over her body. Helena fell the hum of power as she repeated her ritual, a smile on her lips as she felt herself centred in nature. Until she felt a presence. 

Turning her head she reached out, using her magic to pull whoever it was out into the moonlight so she could see them. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to spy on people?” @nola-starters·

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s damn weird to wander into a swamp naked?” Cain countered without hesitation, speaking through the cigarette clamped between his lips. With a flick of his thumb, an amber light shuddered to life, burning the end of his cigarette to warm embers. He sucked in a breath and tucked the lighter away, blowing out a long breath of smoke. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered closer to the banks but didn’t enter. He wasn’t afraid of alligators, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for a wrestling match tonight. Besides, an unfair fight wasn’t a fun fight anyway. 

“What are you doin’ out here anyway?” He gestured to the bayou as a whole. “Is this some...ritual thing?” He didn’t pretend to know much about magic, about its traditions and rules. But he liked nature, and from what he understood, the craft was deeply entwined with the reaches of the earth.

[osullivanss]

Cain punched his pool cue forward, careful to keep his strength level and not send the ball flying off the table and into 77′s wall. He’d done it on more than one occasion and was tired of wedging funds out of his paycheck to repair the damages. The ball rolled forward, cracking against his target and sending it bouncing over the walls, rolling across the green carpeting before stopping just in front of the hole. “Little shit,” Cain cursed, as though the ball were to blame for the lost point instead of his own skill. He took a swig of his beer, nodding to his fellow player. “Don’t get cocky. I’m still gonna kick your ass.” He pointed his finger to emphasize his point before draining the cup. 

He’d always been better at darts, but there was no way in hell he was letting a pathetic game get its way with him, let alone an opposing player.

[osullivanss]

genevievelenoir·:

“Alright, Bessie. You’ll do better if you shut your mouth.” Gen grinned as she walked out of the dressing room. Her part of the burlesque show was finished, and she was free to do what she wanted. Granted, it was already 2am, the place was still full, people watching the smaller shows, enjoying the drinks, the music. She preferred that way more than the loud, nonsensical music in the other clubs. “Here’s your nights take.” The manager shot through the doors, just as she was about to make her way to a booth, “Way to make the girls feel special.” Rolling her eyes, the raven-haired girl, took the cash and made her way towards the booth, but first passed the bar. She didn’t even need to say a word, an old fashioned was in her hand. Bitter, sweet and with a twist, something that could easily have described her. 

She made her way towards her booth, slid into it and started to watch the crowd, just as she did so many times before. “You can sit down, you know.” She said to the person standing right by her, their eyes watching something that wasn’t her, but she didn’t mind. “Unlike many creatures here, I don’t exactly bite.” 

Cain hadn’t lingered by the booth for long. His eyes had been fastened on the stage, particularly on a rather curvaceous blonde dancing just off to the right. He arched a brow at the voice cutting through his concentration, but the offense was abated by the warm beer swirling in his belly and a pair of doe-brown eyes. He chuckled at her mention of creatures who bite, mostly because he was one, one who bit often. 

“You’re a dancer.” It wasn’t a question. He’d seen enough shows to recognize her hips anywhere. He made his way around the booth, placing his drink down on the table and sinking down. He threw his arm over the back of the seat, uncaring of how much space his body took up in size or length. “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk to customers.” Some rule he’d heard thrown out a couple years back. Something about favoritism, making the girls look unavailable. “Breaks the fantasy or something.” He pulled a cigarette out of his chest pocket, flicking the head of his lighter until a yellow flame burst to life. He lit the end of his cigarette, a thin trail of smoke coiling up towards the ceiling. 

“You smoke?”

[osullivanss]

medeaxbarnes·:

The oranges were in bloom on her tree, but the only problem was that it was growing taller than she was. Medea had always had a green thumb, but she had to admit having magic definitely helped a bit. However, she was always the person to pick them without magic, actually liking the act of climbing through the trees and finding the right ones. She had her eyes on a particular orange, arms reaching as best she could when she grabbed it. Only problem was she lost her balance and the orange wasn’t the only thing falling out of the tree. Laying the ground, she sat up to see someone looking down at her. “I promise you, it was worth it. Only the best oranges grow like this one.” She smiled, holding it up in front of her. 

Cain laughed, a deep resounding sound that rumbled in the barrel of his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen something quite so amusing, but then again, he also couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman fall out of a tree. The effort was endearing, but it was her spunk that weaseled a wry smile out of him. He crossed the patch of grass closer to her, humming as he pretended to appraise the orange. He couldn’t care less about its features, the shape or its hue, but what he did enjoy was how happy the orange seemed to make her. She reminded him of the youngest wolves in his pack- eager, plucky and unafraid. “It’s a damn good orange, alright.” He nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets. He glanced up towards the tree, shading the sun from his eyes. Using the advantage of his height, Cain reached up into the branches and twisted off a fruit of a similar caliber. He offered it to her. “Seems like you could use a hand in pickin’ them.”

[osullivanss]

magicallyhestia·:

Hestia had her place to read cards but she wasn’t in her usual place working. Reading tourist was easy, and when she needed a little extra money reading cards came in handy. But today, today she was just sitting outside, drinking coffee and trying to focus. Her brain had been scattered and it made her cranky, it was on her written all over her features, those cold blue eyes focused. Her grandmother was a big help when it came to helping Hestia. Her father had always just lived with the burden of the visions, let it take over his life and couldn’t control it. When she lived with her grandmother she gave her the tarot cards to focus and channel all that was going on in her head. So that’s what she did. 

Placing her grandmother’s shawl on the table. Hestia shuffled her deck, it was one of her favorite decks, and she placed the cards on the table. One stuck to the back of her hand and she sighed. Placing that one aside she laid out her cards in the way they told her and flipped one over. “hmmm, well that’s a good way to start.” Hestia wasn’t necessarily reading her own cards but she never really knew until the end. 

There wasn’t much reason, or any reason, really, for Cain to be watching the young woman shuffle her cards. Tarot cards it seemed, although he was the furthest thing from an expert on the subject. As far as he knew anything that didn’t have hearts, spades, diamonds, or jacks all fell under the umbrella of ‘tarot.’ 

But he was bored, trying to soak up the dead space of his extended lunch break with a little more than two Rueben sandwiches, and even a woman shuffling cards alone at a table provided more entertainment than the strangers passing by on the streets. Cain took a large bite of his sandwich, dressing and innards spilling onto the plate below. He picked the bits up with his fingers, uncaring of the dirt and sawdust layered beneath his fingernails. “Well that doesn’t look too good, now does it.” He was leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up on the other free seat at his table. Cain pointed a finger, the rest of his hand still grasping his mess of a sandwich.

“Death,” or so the card read. Cain had never liked fortunes. As someone raised among supernatural creatures, he’d always known to respect the capabilities of those with Sight. But he damned well didn’t like it. Mostly because he didn’t like anything that implied his fate was out of his own hands. He took another bite of his food and continued speaking. “How does that shake out for you then?”

[ashjafari]

The story I’m writing about is about the Lugh of the Tuatha de Danann, the ancient race of Gods in old Ireland. You weren’t small. I was a king. You were a God King. You were God of the sun, of luck, of craft, art, of everything valuable to civilization. The Shining One, they called you.