Thorki: Of Course Not"Brother." Thor's silhouette cast a large shadow in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "Are you conscious?"
"I am not your brother." Loki wasn't asleep, he almost never slept. "I wish to be in solitude at present."
"Can we discuss this capturing Midgard nonsense like adults?" Thor rolled his eyes. He flipped the light switch in the little hotel room, the dim yellow light making Loki flinch.
"Did you not hear me, cretin? I do not require company."
"It's been a year, Loki, and you still won't acknowledge the events of New York."
"There's nothing to acknowledge. Jotuns are killers. Your kind are saviors."
"My kind? Loki, we were brothers." Thor crossed the room, sitting on the unoccupied bed.
"A lie. A lie fabricated to overcome its god."
"We have nothing to connect us." With this, Thor jumped up, crossed to Loki's bed, and grabbed his thin shoulder, forcing him to face his former brother.
"We. Are. Brothers." Thor hissed. "We fed from the same breas
Johnathan's Real ZingIt felt like an electric shock. I had seen her before, but never like this. We made eye contact in the crowd, and I felt the most extraordinary feeling ever- all of the force and sensation of an electric shock, but with the pain gone and love instead. Mavis was standing there with her father, Drac, and they looked so pale and mysterious. There was some confusion, seeing how I'm a human and my new wife and father-in-law are vampires. All of their friends are different monsters, but that's a totally different story.
Shortly after the confusion and culture shock wore off, I moved into the Hotel Transylvania, to be with all of my friends and my wife. I notified the people in my old life that I wouldn't be coming back. Mavis and I were married in a traditional vampire ceremony. The wedding party was almost as awesome as my wife's 118th. The hotel got pretty empty after the party was over, but we settled into a nightly routine. I even managed to ransack a bloodbank for them. I couldn't get B
Sherlock+John's Christmases Parts IV and VSherlock had made a living solving crime. He had moved to London, putting the past behind him. He went from flat to flat, unable to settle down. He began to consult for Scotland Yard, and made quite a lot of money, but he just wasn't happy. He had finally been diagnosed as a sociopath, and while it relieved him, it brought no closure for his bleak childhood. He lost contact with his mother and watched via the tabloids as Mycroft rose through the ranks of government. He was alive, but wasn't living.
One cold morning he was walking back to his current lodgings, out on a stroll, when he decided to get some coffee. But all of the stores were closed, and it took him a while to figure out why. It was Christmas. He swore to himself, and continued back, walking faster. He ran straight into someone outside of his flat, sending the startled man falling into a puddle of brown London slush.
"I'm so sorry," said Sherlock, not sorry at all.
"No worries," said the man. "Can I have a hand, though? I'v
Sherlock+John's Christmas II and IIIA few years had passed. Sherlock woke up on Christmas morning to the sound of cars honking. Lovely. Mycroft was home from Eton, and was making Sherlock miserable by demanding attention from everyone in the neighborhood. Today would be no different, all about Mycroft. Their mother was making Mycroft's favourite breakfast, Mycroft's favourite cookies. She never did this for Sherlock, ever. She didn't like him as much as his brother, and made little to no effort to conceal this. Their relationship was strained, and as cold as the wind outside. Mycroft's return made everything worse. Sherlock went to his wardrobe and extracted the box of nicotine patches he had hidden there, placing three on his forearm. It would definitely be a three-patch day. With a sinking feeling, he went downstairs and poured himself a cup of bitter, black coffee. Perfect for his mood. He sat through breakfast and then presents, not bothering to care when Mycroft got twice as many gifts. He finished unwrapping far be
Sherlock + John's Christmas 1"Sherlock! It's Christmas, and Mummy said I can't open my presents 'til you come down." Mycroft Holmes yanked his brother's blanket off of him. Sherlock was clad in a rocket ship onesie.
"Boring," said Sherlock with a yawn. "I already know what I got."
"You got me a microscope and Mum got me clothes. Boring." Mycroft looked hurt.
"Fine then, bastard. Stay up here all morning."
"Mum said you're not allowed to call me that."
"Well, she's not here, is she?"
"I'm telling." Sherlock retrieved his blanket.
"Arse." Mycroft slammed the door to Sherlock's bedroom, and tromped town the stairs. Sherlock grumbled and rolled over. He tried to go back to sleep, but Mycroft was soon back. He lifted his little brother up and began to carry him downstairs, ignoring the shrieks emitted by the indignant little boy. He deposited Sherlock on the couch.
"Now who's an arse?" Sherlock muttered, sticking out his tongue, just in time for his mum to enter with a plate of cookies.
"Sherlock Holmes! I