Gerard lives a simple life in district twelve, working his his parents' bakery and taking care of his brother Mikey. He's happy enough until the day Mikey's name is drawn in the Reaping and everything changes forever. A Hunger Games fusion.

Come Now, We're Children (Let's Play A Game): He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one. Totally Not A Meet-Cute: "Gerard has had a crush on Train Guy for a while, but just going up and talking to him would be weird. He needs a reason, right?" In the Belly Of: "Because space whales…fish…are a thing. In multiple universes. (Look, Todd asked and I said Okay, and this is what happened. I don’t know either.)" Turn Your Head: "Written for the genderplay square at kink_bingo's April 2012 "gift baskets" challenge." Apple Bottom Jeans (And Other Love Songs): "Or, how Steve Rogers--kind of--learns to dance."

Supernatural/Leverage; Jake & Hardison; twins.

"In which neither Peggy nor Susan like the cold."

From the beginning, there was something odd about Namimori. In a world where every city had its own method of dealing with the bane of humanity that were ghouls, Namimori was the first place Reborn had ever been that felt safe to him. People were calm and unafraid on the streets, even after dark. It was remarkable and at first he thought it was due to the fact that Namimori's police force had some sort of foolproof guard against ghouls. But then he noticed the distinct lack of graveyards. By the time Reborn really understood what kept Namimori safe, it was too late to do anything about it. After all, the successor was being tutored, the guardians were chosen, and Xanxus was bearing down on them with half the Vongola rings and all of his wrath. All there was left to do was wait and see.

The first time he picked up Gryffindor's sword he had been young and terrified. The second time he fumbled the hilt, he had still been young and he had still been terrified. The third time? He was not much older and no more prepared for the world he had just entered, nor for the enemy he will face in order to win this twisted game of life and death.