teenyoda | Eachdraidh IC Inbox

Giggling doesn't help me change.

[So much line facing. How was he supposed to get changed with eyes watching him? Guess who changed under the blankets now?]

So how come you got stuck with wolfsitting duty?

She was a boon I think, delivered just this morning... but the Lady Meera, who asked for her, is not in the castle at the moment. [She's out doing dangerous things, gods help her.] I would make a poor "wolfsitter" if I delivered her new pup to her with a limp.

How'd it get mangled?

[Huh. They were giving out things like that as boons? He wondered if they might do the same with dragons. The queen had mentioned having dragon eggs...]

[STILES NO you are the last person who should have a live dragon omfg.]

Hunted, it seems. I did not have much luck finding out by what, or whom.

At least it was not once a man. [He's heard the story behind Arya's pet cat, and other pets who have been given as boons. The idea is disturbing.]

[Shut up, Jon. Let him live his dreams. DRAGON DREAMS!!!]

Pff, not much of a man if that's the result.

[There was a noise outside the door before it pushed open, three pixies helping to carry in a bowl of milk. It sloshed over the sides, making a mess before they managed to put it on the table.]

Thanks. Now go away.

[The pixie that had originally been in his room gave him another rude gesture and looked as if he might try peeing in the milk. Stiles swatted him away.]

Hey, it's not for me, you ass. It's for the puppy. God, you are so gross. Go find something to hump or something.

[Jon watches them go with both eyebrows threatening to disappear up into his hairline.]

You certainly have a way with them.

[He finally gets up, and brings the pup over to the table with the milk.]

How long should we wait?

The milk will cool it down enough.

[He dumped the rest of the bottle in and grabbed a wooden spatula type thing to stir it up with.]

And those guys are jerks. Seriously. It's like... Jackson. In pixie form. The girls are nicer, but just as pervy. Wait until you come upon a knot of them all... doing stuff. It's not pretty.

[Jon wrinkles his nose. He hasn't noticed, but it's possible he just wasn't... paying attention. He's sorta got this blindspot about anybody finding him attractive until they are literally screaming it in his face.]

Who is Jackson, then?

[Other than someone who, based on context clues, occasionally moons Stiles and pees in his milk.]

Jackson's an asshole. Not quite Peter level, but he's up there.

[No, he doesn't moon Stiles or pee in his milk, but he does murder people via mind control and Stiles got way too close to his junk trying to put his pants on one time because he was naked and unconscious. It wasn't pretty. He hates his life.]

Here. Will she drink it or do you need a cloth?

Well. I suppose I'm not without men that annoy me as well.

[And by "annoy me" he means "attempt to have me hanged or otherwise killed every now and again," but you know. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

He sets the little thing down on the table just over the bowl of half-spilled milk.]

We could see if she'll drink it from the bowl, and if not, I'll use some cloth.

Okay. You go nuts with that, wolf-whisperer. Hey, is Ghost jealous you've got a cute younger model?

[He grinned as he moved back to give the wolf cub and the man more room, closing up his books and going to put them back so they wouldn't get milk, or worse, all over them.]

Might be he is. [He feels like just half of a man, almost. Since Reynard, since they'd shared their senses on purpose, Ghost hasn't been but a dozen yards from his side, and now... He's gone much farther. Jon can't tell much, but he can tell that.] He took off this morning - to hunt, maybe. I've not seen him since. [And right after he got his own boon, telling him he might warg with multiple wolves at once now. Honestly, the damned creature had better come back soon.]

You should get him his own pizza. He might be a wolf, but he's a boy wolf. We're easy to please. Food and affection and we're yours. Well, not yours, but you get my meaning.

[Jon laughs, as the direwolf pup thankfully begins to lap up the milk with no aid necessary.]

If that were the truth of it, being Lord Commander would be nowhere near so awful a headache. [He plucks another cookie off the plate without asking, thanks bud.] Though food, the Wall won't have for long, at the rate we were going.

[Help yourself, bro. Just don't take the last one. Jerk.]

See, if you just gave all your little under-commanderlings a little pat on the head or butt or whatever you guys do on 'The Wall' and some nachos and pizza? You'd win whatever war you have out of them just wanting more of what you got. Totally true.

[No promises, bro.]

Half of them want me dead, I scarcely think patting their heads or their arses would do me much good. [Pizza might have some merit, though... don't mind Jon just mentally filing that away for later.]

[He will totally fight you for the last cookie. Don't even go there.]

You never know. You'd be surprised at how easily we're manipulated. We're men. We're not that complicated.

Might be you are, but I'm not.

[You know nothing, Jon Snow.]

[Stiles just looked at Jon, then grinned and shook his head, lifting a hand to clap him on the back.]

Sure you're not, buddy. Sure you're not.

[He so was.]

[Jon puffs out a sigh of why do I like this guy so much??]

You're bloody impossible, you know that?

Me? Nah. I'm just your typical teenager. You, on the other hand... Mister sword swinging He-Man. Yeah.

[He moved a little closer to the table so he could get a look at the paw, seeing if it was working like it should on her.]

[It does seem to be working as well on her as it did on Ghost! She looks up from the milk and licks at his hand when he gets too close.]

What's my sword got to do with it?

[Eww. Milky dog slobber. That gets wiped on his pants and he moves back, happy that she'll be good in no time.]

Considering I'm pretty sure you sleep with that thing? What doesn't it have to do with it?

I don't sleep with it. [He just uses his direwolf as a pillow. And keeps the sword at his bedside.] It's Valyrian steel. [Read: completely priceless. Just ask House Lannister, they tried to buy one for decades but not even the poorest houses would sell.] I'm not going to just leave it lying about in someone else's castle.

[He just looked at Jon for a minute, then laughed.]

Dude, it's your binky.

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