#I like this au

[spitinsideme]

the girls are bumping their noses together romantically ...

(freakshow au by @kookydoodleky !!)

[sinclairstarz]

60s LESBYLER ELECTRIC OMENS !!!!!!!

[orionchildofhades]

aftg genshin au with aaron pyro and andrew cryo (dilluc and kaeya dynamic if you will) from fontaine, kevin geo, nicky is anemo from fontaine but he moved to mondstat with his bf. matt is dendro, dan is pyro, renee is obviously electro and allison is pyro as well. I'd argue that seth could have been a cryo or an anemo.

the whole mafia thing has to do with the archons and snezhnaya, neil is some sort of traveler running from the moriyama and their goons who also have some power over the 'universe/multiverse' as in like the first goddess and they need neil's power. he pretends to be a hydro user bc je favours this element.

[dovewingkinnie]

You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but could we get some lore for your Howdy's Apple Farm AU?

ya!! basically, howdys farm is a rlly big apple forest that looks pretty small when you look at it from the outside

but as you go in, it gets bigger and bigger and you suddenly can’t find a way out

only howdy knows how to navigate these woods, no one really enters it because howdy told them not to.. except for wally, who believes that the best apples are in there (he is wrong)

i should draw more for this au cause i think it’s neat and i really like that funny caterpillar!! i heard his voice today and i love him even more!!!

[nosti-hate]

For @saline-coelacanth 🌩️ and their ⚡Storm Vessel AU⚡

Villain Jay is something they we need for Dragons Rising

And i had already told it, but it gives me my old storm!Jay au in seaboard. Nostalgia :)

(Have no clue how but) Your au get me out from art block, bcs i don't remember when i draw so much in 2-3 days

Thank you girl 😍😘

[clipdoodo]

highschool teachers au

[flamingskull28]

for the villain agent 8 au, the reason why 8 is messing with the souls of others is to gather data in the hopes of using that data to bring four back to life at the cost temporarily (and permanently if she wasn't stopped in time) damaging the souls of others

maybe she is half successful and part of 4's data is brought back but then tells 8 to stop

[amethyst-halo]

b&b au branch does kismet stuff as a side gig hobby thing which bruce encourages so that branch makes friends and also bc branch is clearly having a great time with it! the other members of kismet know branch has a boy band history but branch doesn’t really talk about it

[murdrdocs]

COWBOY CORIOLANUS

[escapeaddict]

@lady-adventuress ok so my gift was originally going to be a multichapter fic set in an alternate universe but it wouldn't have been finished on time

anyway, here's the first chapter

Yesterday's Innovation is Tomorrow's Tradition

The kingdom of Ever After was a paradise of progress, a haven of order, a beacon of hope and a pillar of stability. The benevolent royal family ruled with strict compassion and a firm guiding hand, a stern affection behind every action taken by the Grimms over the two centuries since they rose into power.

Destiny, the capital city as of two hundred years ago, was a marvel of technology. The pristinely white palace and the pastel mansions of nobility stretched towers and spires into the sky, a bustling market district spilled chaotically across the streets like explosions of paint, and train tracks from all over the kingdom wound their way to the city. Gardens were carefully cultivated, dirigibles hung in the sky, and halls of stained glass windows and faceted chandeliers served as meeting places during the nobility’s social season.

The slums, meanwhile, were covered in soot and choked by smoke, factories chewing up workers during the day and spitting them back out to sleep in their pitiful shacks by night. To them, coal was hacking coughs and aching lungs, steam was scalding heat and dampened air, and nuts and bolts were things to be handled with care for the gain of those richer than them, lest they be forced to cover their cost from their own wages.

Here, in Destiny, the paths and futures of different, yet oddly similar girls were about to cross, some for the first time. Unbeknownst to them, they were going to implement changes to the very shape and nature of their country. Forever.

After.

Apple White, daughter of the childless king’s only ward, led a blessed life. She woke each morning to the pleasing chimes emerging from the beaks of clockwork birds, their inner workings of springs and gears laid bare to see within their delicate wire frames. An automated table would slide smoothly into her room, halting at the end of its tracks beside her bed, bearing hot tea and warm confections. After her morning refreshments, a maid would enter with a wheeled mannequin wearing an outfit chosen in advance for the day’s events, and help the honorary princess with the tricky buckles and finicky laces of her finery after brushing her blond hair to shiny perfection.

And then, unless beholden to prior obligations, the girl was free to do as she chose.

On this particular day, as the chill of winter thawed from the air, she was called upon to meet with his majesty, King Milton, regarding the upcoming social season. She curtsied respectfully as she sashayed onto the balcony where he and her mother were waiting to speak with her over a light brunch, and awaited a spoken invitation to sit in her seat.

“Sit down, dear,” the king said, the frown lines at the corners of his lips and eyes lightening a margin. “We have matters of importance to discuss.”

“I will convey myself with the utmost dignity in front of all visiting nobility,” she assured him as she sat, anticipating a conversation regarding proper conduct.

“Do not assume to know my thoughts, child,” Milton said. “I have faith enough in your diplomacy. The matter at hand may require a differing set of skills, as you would have known had you listened to me until the completion of my statement.”

Stung, Apple dropped her eyes, but not before seeing her mother hide a crimson smirk with a tilt of her teacup.

“This year, Raven Queen is returning to Destiny at last,” the king said. “Her family has not shown its face since the imprisonment and subsequent execution of its treacherous matriarch, but the girl is sixteen as of November, and somehow has found a sponsor. She is to be presented this very year.”

Apple’s fingers twitched, and vague memories of a laughing child with inky hair and eyes so blue they were practically violet filled her mind.

“We don’t want her causing a scene,” Snow White said serenely, setting down her teacup with a clink. “And you are childhood acquaintances. It would not be remiss of you in the eyes of society to reconnect with an old, ah, ‘friend’.”

“The girl is in prime position to hurt her prospects beyond repair,” the king said. “Not to mention her chances of dragging those easily led down with her. I believe she could use a calming presence and slight monitoring to get her through the social season without mishap. Which is why you will be presented as well.”

The sun kept shining, the breeze kept blowing, the world kept turning, and Apple froze, heart like a block of ice in her chest.

“I don’t turn sixteen until May,” she said after the pause in conversation had stretched on just a little too long. “It’s not proper.”

“No one expects you to actually be married this year,” Snow said. “It is known how useful of a bargaining chip you are.”

“It is tradition for a princess to not be presented until she is eighteen,” Apple said, sudden desperation pushing her to continue the debate. “In order to ensure that a political alliance with a foreign country is not necessary before she is to be married.”

“But you have some leeway,” Milton said with warning in his voice. “As daughter of my ward, you occupy a unique position. Princess enough that any nobleman worth his gold would crave the influence of taking your hand, yet not royal enough that it would shock the senses if you were presented earlier than expected. And I do not believe our relations with our neighbors are unsteady enough to require further negotiations as of yet.”

“And if there is a courter I cannot refuse without jeopardizing the kingdom’s internal peace?” Apple asked, defeated.

“Then I suppose you will have to do your duty, my girl,” the king briefly rested his hand on Apple’s. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Apple responded immediately. “Always.”

“Then believe me when I say that you are up to this task.”

Backed into a corner, all she could do was nod.

Cerise Hood dropped the last trunk onto the floor of the entrance hall with a relieved air, signaling to the footman that he could take it, too, to the carriages. As she turned away, the daughter of her employer caught her eye.

“Thank you,” Raven said. “And thank you for coming with me.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Cerise said, adjusting the red kerchief covering her head. “I have never been to Destiny before.”

Raven grimaced, no doubt thinking of the execution of her mother, as well as the imprisonment of her double-crossing accomplice, who had been long rumored to be Cerise’s father. Or perhaps she was merely contemplating the reception she could expect to receive in the capital as the daughter of the noblewoman who had succeeded in assassinating the king’s brother.

“This trip will be fun,” Cerise said, ignoring the various elephants in the room. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll wind up getting hitched.”

Raven cringed, then blew a raspberry, causing Cerise to let out a bark of laughter.

“Raven!” the voice of the girl’s father called out.

“I have to go,” Raven said reluctantly. “It’s annoying that we can’t ride in the same carriage.”

“It is what it is,” Cerise shrugged. “Let my boss know I’ll be there in a moment.”

Inclining her head, Raven exited the country house belonging to the Queen family, leaving behind her friend, the bastard child of one of the kitchen workers.

Cerise briefly shut her eyes and took a bracing breath.

She had ensured that she would be accompanying the Queens on their trip (she would have done so anyway, for Raven’s sake) just as she had ensured she would become Raven’s maid (despite her friend’s protests), and now Giles would have further instructions awaiting her upon her arrival at Destiny. The capital was going to be a much more difficult environment in which to gather information and recruit sympathizers to the cause, and she knew she had no idea how difficult it would truly be. She just had to be ready for not being ready.

Exhaling slowly, Cerise opened her eyes and walked out into the early spring sunshine as if without a care in the world.

Raven Queen sighed, lightly brushing the skirt of her purple dress, which flared out from a low pointed waist thanks to multiple layered petticoats. Her black hair, void of the purple ribbons she was planning to weave into it for the formal occasions waiting for her later in the day, was knotted tightly at the back of her head. A lacy parasol and an equally lacy bonnet were easily accessible in preparation for a morning walk among the grounds, should the mood strike her. Forgoing footwear, she padded through the halls on stockinged feet, stone floor pleasantly warm due to a system of pipes and heated water.

The house in Destiny was both eerily familiar and comfortingly strange to Raven, who hadn’t stepped foot in it since the tender age of nine. Here, Mira Queen had planned to poison the heir to the throne. Here, she had been dragged away in chains, cursing the huntsman who’d betrayed her.

Here, Raven had seen her mother for the last time before her sentenced death.

She could still make her way to the kitchen, as it turned out, memory not failing her in that regard, but the kitchen looked all wrong compared to her recollections. The angles and the sizes of all the tables and pantries were different than she remembered, and inexplicably tears fought to leave her eyes.

“Blackbird,” the cook noticed her. “Planning on getting the worm?”

“It’s not that early, is it?” Raven asked.

“Early enough that you’re not leaving this kitchen until we get something in your stomach,” the cook said. “Breakfast isn’t for another two hours.”

And as the cook fussed over her, something in Raven unclenched, as if her bones settled into place, and she smiled, breathing in the familiar scent of spices and herbs that always pervaded the kitchen.

She was home.

Knightley adjusted his sleeves and smoothed out the lapels of his frock coat. He tucked his pocket watch into his waistcoat pocket (he was surely going to miss important information from the evening’s ball at the Beauty’s, which started in less than an hour), and he gathered himself to knock on the locked door in front of him.

A few heartbeats passed until the locking mechanism began to click.

“We’re closed,” said the man who cracked open the door, squinting at him.

“Can the musical chair change its tone,” Knightley said in a low voice, “when the tablet of granite is inscribed with a bone?”

The old carpenter peered at him a moment longer, before spitting on the cobblestones and turning around, leaving the door open. He followed him inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. Winding their way through the shop, the man led him between displays of furniture and carvings, through the back where they weaved around blocks of wood and scattered tools while sawdust kicked up by their feet swirled at their ankles, and down a trapdoor to the basement. On their way, Knightley saw a man closely resembling the carpenter, no doubt his son, carefully whittling something in his large hands, but he had not looked up as they passed. In the basement the carpenter turned to Knightley, gesturing at a pile of crates tucked in the back behind barrels and sacks of various foodstuffs.

“My granddaughter’s about your age, mister,” the old man said. “Her name is Cedar. And she’s as good as dead if you muck this up, do you understand me?”

“Yessir,” Knightley straightened his back.

“Pah,” the carpenter said disparagingly, then marched back up the stairs without a word.

Knightley rolled his eyes, but moved aside the deceptively heavy crates without comment, revealing a round door in the wall, small and low to the ground. He crawled into the passageway it concealed, wrinkling his nose as he traversed above and beneath protruding corners of pipes full of water and steam. At the end of his crawl he hit another door. He knocked with no hesitation.

This time the words were allowed to be a bit more treasonous, as they were out of the public’s earshot.

“The king who sings with pages of sky fears too much the dawn that rises with lies,” Knightley said.

The door opened.

“So nice to meet you in person, Master Knightley,” said the man known to him only as Fenris, though he recognized Duke Badwolf from prior events.

“Likewise, y- sir,” he replied, biting down the instinctive usage of ‘your grace’.

He reached into his coat and the duke tensed, hand hovering at the hilt of his dagger, but Knightley merely retrieved a collection of notes secured in a large nondescript envelope he’d tucked away in an inner pocket.

“Information on the families you requested, sir,” he said, handing it over. “The Charmings, the O’Hairs, and several others.”

The duke didn’t acknowledge his defensive reaction, simply dropping his right hand back to his side as he accepted the envelope with his left. He skimmed through its contents, then looked up at Knightley with a grin that showed far too many teeth to be anything other than predatory.

“We already have a recruiter as her maid,” Badwolf said, “but get us what you can on Raven Queen.”

Knightley took that to mean that his work was satisfactory.

Briar Beauty, who’d turned sixteen the previous August, hung on the outskirts of the party she’d helped her parents arrange, pouting at the fact that not one gentleman had asked her to be their first dance of the night. Instead two separate crowds had formed around Apple White and Raven Queen, until the former politely made her excuses and the latter was whisked off to the dance floor.

Apple was making her way across the room to Briar, no doubt to chastise her about showing such an unbecoming face in public, but Briar opted to ignore her friend until she couldn’t anymore. She shifted her gaze to Raven instead, envy spiking through her at the attention the girl was getting, when she caught sight of a flash of dark blue fabric. Briar’s stomach twisted at the color that was becoming increasingly familiar, as its wearer’s dresses varied in design instead of in shade.

The wearer being Faybelle Thorn, daughter of the diplomat from Faerie, land of heathens, where they decried the progress of coal and steam. She danced in the arms of a young gentleman, footsteps light with a nimble grace, and sported a smug smile on her pointy face.

Briar’s mother had been kidnapped by Faerie in her youth, when the seas between the two kingdoms were still tumultuous.

In fact, the mastermind behind the ransom plot was none other than Faybelle’s very own mother.

Briar failed to notice Apple gliding into place at her side until the princess murmured in her ear for her to breathe and relax.

“I don’t understand how you get along with her,” Briar said, not taking her eyes off the infuriating girl. “You’re polar opposites.”

“We have an understanding,” Apple corrected. “We share similar ideals in many ways, but we are not friends, I can assure you of that. So stop glaring.”

“I’m not jealous of her,” Briar grumbled. “And I’m offended that you’d even insinuate such a thing.”

She shot the girl another dirty look.

“For heaven’s sake,” Apple said, “your families aren’t even feuding, so drop the vendetta.”

Just then, Faybelle caught Briar’s eye and winked, the smug vixen.

Cheeks burning, Briar jerked her head to the side, on time to see a flustered Darling Charming, who had been among those presented in the morning, arrive noticeably late.

An earl, who had previously vied for Apple’s attention, made his way over to the stunningly pretty girl, and Apple scowled.

“You have more than enough potential suitors, honey,” Briar said. “That one’s no big loss at his age. And you accuse me of being jealous.”

Apple appeared to be struggling with what to say, a confused furrow to her brow, and in the end she simply settled on a long drawn-out sigh.

“Please excuse me,” she said, sidestepping her hypocrisy completely, “I should reacquaint myself with Raven, it’s been several years since we last spoke.”

“Fine,” Briar said with a joking bitterness. “Enjoy debuting without your best friend by your side, ingrate.”

She flashed Apple a grin as she swept away in a faux-offended cloud of pink fabric.

Apple, after getting waylaid by Daring Charming, who, at nearly seventeen, was free to enjoy himself during the season with no marital pressure placed upon him, managed to make her way to Raven’s vicinity before the girl was yanked away into another dance. Raven spotted her and paled to a gaunt gray, knuckles whitening as she gripped the fabric of her skirt tightly.

“Raven!” Apple smiled. “It has been ever so long. I must say that it is wonderful to see you again.”

“It is?” Raven said, visibly startled by Apple’s welcoming attitude, but at least she unclenched her fists.

“Of course,” said Duchess Swan, a daughter of minor nobility, as she sidled up to them mid-waltz. “You’re really refreshing our memory as to why loyalty to the king pays off. Why, it’s as if you had left Destiny only yesterday.”

Apple opened her mouth to chastise her, but the graceful girl had already glided away, twirling in the arms of her dance partner.

Several seconds of silence strung along.

“Please excuse her,” Apple said. “She doesn’t speak for us all.”

“Doesn’t she?” Raven asked, eyeing the waltzing pairs subtly stealing looks at the two girls.

“Well, I, for one, am honestly pleased to see you,” Apple said. “Shall we?”

She indicated the refreshment tables with a lazy wave, in the hopes that food and drink would lower the other’s guard.

“Very well,” Raven said cautiously, starting towards the wine glasses.

They arrived by them in utter silence.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

“Taking the bull by the horns,” Apple said. “I’m afraid I can no longer predict your reactions to mentions of delicate topics, and one is hanging over us quite obviously.”

Raven said nothing.

“I wish I knew you as well as I used to,” Apple whispered, her mother berating her in her mind for the truth in her words. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“My bluntness hasn’t changed,” Raven finally said, picking up a flute of champagne with her thumb and middle finger with a carelessness contradicted by her trembling hands. “So I’ll state this question simply. Do you want to reconnect even though my mother killed your, well, basically, great uncle, and tried to do the same to your mother?”

Taking the bull by the horns indeed.

“Raven, you were nine,” Apple said, dismayed. “No one, and I mean no one, should ever think you’re guilty because of blood relation.”

“I know that, don’t worry,” Raven smiled faintly, the rippling surface of the burgundy liquid in her glass smoothing. “I just wanted to get that out of the way, because you’d be shocked at how many people disagree.”

“Do you,” Apple’s voice was small. “Do you resent me for your mother’s fate?”

She hadn’t meant to ask that.

“You’re no more at fault for that than I am for the assassination attempts,” Raven touched her fingertips to Apple’s wrist. “I never once blamed you, not in all my years of isolation in the countryside.”

Apple’s lips parted, and she completely forgot her betters’ instructions not to get emotionally invested in their relationship.

“Can we start over?” she blurted out.

“And pretend we never stole oranges from the cook?” Raven asked. “Forget that we dropped a bucket of snow on Dexter Charming, or that we muddied our clothes countless times running outside in the rain?”

Her tone was melancholy as she recalled those events that had seemed so joyful when they occurred.

“Not as a blank slate,” Apple said, fumbling for the right words. “More as a renewal of our bond, a shared goal of making new memories without the past weighing them down. Like you said, I want to reconnect ‘even though’.”

Raven looked away for a moment, contemplatively quiet. She then turned to gaze decisively into Apple’s eyes, which betrayed unintentional sincerity. 

“I would be honored to get to know you again,” Raven said.

Cerise, devoid of her eye-catching kerchief and with soot smudging her distinctive lock of white hair, crouched on the spindly limbs of a pomegranate tree on the edge of the Beauty estate. The threadbare branches didn’t provide much cover, but as long as her movements remained slow and steady, the night and her drab garments would be all the concealment she needed.

There was just one snag in this planned rendezvous. A man was wandering ever closer to her in his meandering path across the gardens, clearly enjoying his peaceful solitude. He soon paused to contemplate the starry sky only a few feet from Cerise’s hiding spot.

The moonlight reflected off the colorless locks in his otherwise dark brown hair as he lingered, and Cerise was giving herself a moment to lament her failed mission when he spoke.

“Hello, Redcap.”

“Fenris,” she breathed.

Damn it all, of all the rotten luck, a nobleman was her contact in the city.

How was she supposed to discreetly interact with him as a maid?

“Status?” he inquired.

“Secure,” she said, brain in turmoil.

“And that of your target?”

“My friend, you mean,” she corrected instinctively.

“Redcap,” he growled.

“Uncompromised as of yet, sir,” Cerise muttered. “I’ll have a clearer picture after tonight’s events.”

“Good,” Fenris said. “I expect a report on the corvid’s account of the evening by tomorrow night.”

“Understood,” she said. “Further instructions?”

“Pending,” he said. “But nudge her away from the fruit, they seemed to be getting along earlier, and if she befriends her we might just lose our greatest potential asset to the serpent and her gilded tongue.”

One second she was listening attentively to Apple’s tales of misadventures with Briar, the next Raven’s childhood friend stood stiff and mute, face blank but for that hated artificial smile Raven remembered from before.

Which meant that one specific person was nearby.

She reluctantly pivoted and came face-to-face with the heir to the throne.

“Raven, darling,” Snow White beamed. “It’s delightful to have a representative of the Queen family at our dear social season once more. Your presence has been sorely missed since your father’s unfortunate vanishing act.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Raven said, shoving down the anger curling in her gut.

“Tell me, my dear,” Snow said with a flash of her pearly teeth. “What prompted this return?”

“Well, Lady Charming was kind enough to recall my similarity in age to her own children,” Raven said. “She reached out about sponsoring me.”

Snow’s eyes were quite cold in contrast to the warmth of her curved lips.

“I was under the impression that you were the one to reach out initially,” she said. “It was quite generous of Lady Charming to risk her reputation in such a way. With her scant schedule, I can understand how she had the presence of mind to write to you before me, but it’s a shame that I hadn’t realized that she was your only option, not your first choice. Your return could have been facilitated as a symbol of peace between our families had I only thought things through. And I could have spared other sponsors from the controversy.”

“Queenie is handling any backlash just fine,” Raven said without blinking, as if she called marchionesses by their first name on a regular basis.

“Marvelous,” Snow said. “I do hope it remains that way.”

“I believe in her ability to handle surprise obstacles,” Raven said.

“Such confidence in your sponsor is commendable,” Snow said. “But do not let it blind you. Reality is often harsh.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Raven sipped her drink. “But one does not need the support of another to stand up for oneself.”

“Then I’ll leave you in your own capable hands,” Snow said. “I have so much catching up to do with Queenie, I haven’t checked in on her family in far too long.”

Raven watched as the woman walked away and mentally apologized to the Charmings for loosing the heir apparent on them, no matter how unintentionally.

Darling thanked the Redford boy for the dance, and he bowed gallantly over her hand, pressing his lips to the back of her wrist. She took short, quick steps beneath the voluminous skirt of her gown, which translated into a flowing movement to onlookers, and went in search of water for her dry mouth, only to stop in her tracks.

Her twin brother was engaged in conversation with Snow White, and it was not going well.

“I suppose I always thought she was intriguing,” Dexter looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I can’t help but notice you’re not one of the ones asking her to dance,” Snow said. “Nervous?”

“I don’t really know her,” Dexter, bless him, looked legitimately confused. “Why would I?”

“Status,” Snow shrugged. “Scandal. Romance. There must be a reason Queenie’s sticking her neck out for an outcast.”

Dexter’s eyes darted around nervously, then landed on his sister, wordlessly begging for help.

“Dex!” Darling rushed forward to clutch his sleeve, ending up between him and Snow. “I didn’t get to talk to you today!”

She pouted up at him.

“Maybe you should get better at keeping track of time,” he said, but softened the statement with a grin.

Snow cleared her throat.

“Oh my,” Darling said, letting go of Dexter’s arm. “I didn’t notice you, I apologize.”

Snow gave herself a lightning quick once over as if to double-check that her opulent jewelry and blinding white gown remained intact, and Darling resisted the urge to grin.

“I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important,” she continued.

“Important?” Snow gave a tinkling laugh. “Not at all! I was merely saying my hellos to your brother.”

“It’s sweet of you to try and assuage my worries,” Darling said. “But I know the wellbeing of those around you is one of your top priorities, and I am deeply sorry for interrupting the way I did.

“I do care very much,” Snow said. “For those dear to me.”

Darling dropped the pretense of misunderstanding the badly hidden insults.

“Then I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from them,” she said, gesturing away from herself.

Snow narrowed her eyes, but gave her a tight smile.

“I do hope to speak to you soon, Darling,” she said in lieu of a farewell.

The siblings watched her retreating form until she was out of earshot.

“Did you have to antagonize her?” Dexter asked.

“Did she have to imply that you were worth less to her than the dirt on her soles?” Darling shot back.

“I don’t even know what she was trying to get from me,” Dexter said, wisely not pursuing that argument.

“An admission that it was your idea to have Mom sponsor Raven,” she said.

“But it wasn’t,” he said. “It would take a lot of subtle manipulation to convince Mom to do anything we thought up.”

And, oh, didn’t Darling know that all too well.

Having snuck out to the garden the night of the ball for some air, as she was wont to do after a night of overzealous wine-drinking, Briar had found that someone had been in the tree she liked to perch on. Said someone had been none too gentle, as could be seen by the snapped twigs and crushed leaves, not to mention they had left a muddy footprint on the bark. Oh, they had been relatively subtle signs, but Briar knew that tree like the palm of her hand, with all its little scars and blemishes. And she wanted answers.

Or maybe she was bored and nursing a slight headache, but that was beside the point.

Her money would have been on Darling, if not for the fact that the girl’s mother had kept an eagle eye on her daughter from the moment they stepped into the foyer, and for the fact that she’d eliminated invited guests from her list of suspects.

“Only Badwolf was in that area,” the nervous footman she’d questioned told her. “And he never even touched any tree.”

Needless to say, the trail more or less ended there.

Briar sighed despondently, hunched up in her vantage point that doubled as the scene of the crime, when her eye caught on a scrap of fabric caught on a branch, edges ragged and obviously torn.

Assessing the cloth with practiced expertise, Briar was pretty sure it originated in the Darkwood.

The Queens had sent spies to last night’s ball.

[softquietsteadylove]

Ok but what about Gil making some dad jokes? 😂

In the end he makes one that even Thena finds funny but would never admit!

Choose the AU 😁

"Hey."

"Hey," Gil greeted in return. He was watched as he dropped his bag off by the door and then moved further into the cabin--his cabin. But he was used to it.

The White Wolf hadn't been cleared to return to the field, much to her seething rage about it. Too much risk of infection walking around in the open, carrying gear, chafing, sweating, exposing it to open air. She was required to remain stationary for at least two weeks.

She had gotten off the call with the medic team and nearly thrown his laptop into the fire for it.

He had kept his promise, given her the space she was used to and the privacy she wanted. She stayed in his bed while he went to work, mostly read. And then when he got home she would complain about wanting to leave. It was their little routine.

"How is it out there?"

Gil raised a brow but just nodded, "pretty normal stuff."

Thena just nodded, setting her book aside. Some days she was a little less prickly. Usually it meant she wanted something.

He looked at her, "you hungry?"

She never admitted to actually needing anything from him. He was under the impression that if he didn't ask her directly she might wither away and starve. But she was a truly terrible cook when left to her own devices.

He was still trying to determine if that was an effect of being out in the woods for a year on her own, or if it was a pre-existing condition.

She nodded.

Gil smiled a little. They were getting more used to each other, and he knew the Wolf had a sense of humour in her somewhere. He put a hand to his ear, "what was that?"

"Fuck you."

Her words had no real bite to them anymore. He chuckled, "no, wasn't that."

Thena sighed and glared at him with all the vitriol in her 5'8" frame. "A little."

"Good," he grinned at her before looping into the semi-attached kitchen nook, "I'm a medium hungry myself."

Thena rolled her eyes visibly and loudly.

Gil let the little joke suffice and moved into the kitchen. "Dry season's coming, so there's a lot of extra trimming happening."

He didn't get an answer, but he wouldn't expect one from the Wolf. That didn't mean she wasn't listening, either.

"I walked by your last post. It's still intact," he continued as he pulled stuff out of the fridge. He didn't have much to work with, but Thena wasn't particularly picky either. Little thing could eat like a real monster if she liked something. "Do you need anything?"

After learning that she would be staying with him a little longer, he had gone back to her camp and packed up everything for her and brought it back here. She had been a little averse to him packing up her personals, but she let him bring her things to her. He had to assume she arranged and packed them more to her tastes while he was at work.

"Not to be trapped in your bed like an animal?"

"Hm," Gil murmured as he slid some ground hamburger and onions in a pan, "I don't think they have that at the drop-mart."

More silence, most definitely her groaning at his jokes again.

Once he was satisfied that he had the makings for a decent sauce, he set it on low to reduce and went back out to her. He leaned against the doorway. "Cleaned?"

She eyed him. He was asking about her healing burns. "Had a shower."

That wasn't exactly cleaning them with a saline solution, but he supposed it did technically qualify as being washed out. He came a little closer, "you need help with the bandages?"

She looked up at him. Sometimes - certainly not always - he could get some of her guard down. If he spoke softly, moved slowly, something about it could calm her usual worry and help her open up to him, even a little. She shook her head.

"Okay," he accepted without much argument. Less fuss the better, with the White Wolf. "Hey, I brought some stuff for you."

She gave him her driest, deadliest look, "if it's another stupid joke I swear to god-"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled as he bent down to his backpack and pulled it open. "Went to the station, found some stuff that might help pass the time."

Thena let him bring it over, depositing some books on the night table within her reach, setting down a couple of snacks. She picked up the peanuts immediately.

Gil watched her tear into them, really giving him the unfortunate impression that she hadn't done anything to feed herself while he was gone. "Sometimes I think all you eat is trail mix."

She glared at him as she shovelled more toasted peanuts in her mouth.

"But that's," he grinned at her, "just nuts."

She flicked one at him.

He caught it after it bounced off his forehead and popped it in his mouth. She could have all the nuts she wanted, really. Anything, so long as she was eating. "Don't fill up. I'm making spaghetti."

Thena's eyes widened and she tilted her head. She liked his spaghetti.

"I brought some coffee too," he continued as he went to actually put on the noodles, seeing as how his guest was apparently starving.

"Coffee?"

Ooh, that was really catching her fancy. Gil made a note to himself to bring more, and not just the instant stuff she could technically make for herself out in the woods.

"Coffee," he confirmed as he salted the pasta water. "But I had to file a report on it."

"File a report?"

He didn't look at her. It tended to put her on edge. But she had gotten out of bed just to verify his coffee story. He reached for the pasta, "yep--usual stuff, I was making some coffee and...it got mugged."

"Gilgamesh."

Whatever, he liked his dumb jokes. He laughed, ignoring how she was glaring at him for it. He bobbed his head to the side, "get out some bowls?"

Thena didn't love being told what to do, but she seemed to far prefer it to listening to him tell jokes straight out of an outdated 'dad' manual. She did retrieve some bowls for them.

After tossing the noodles in the sauce properly he served Thena first, and with a mountain's worth of noodles and meat sauce. She would get through it, and he would have more where that came from, too.

"Thanks," she muttered quietly. She did turn and leave without waiting for him, but he was charmed when she plunked his own bowl into his hand first. It was a small gesture, but it was about as outwardly caring as Thena could get.

She sat herself in front of the fire to eat, taking up the chair of his she liked the best to do so. She had his blanket around her bony little shoulders, probably after she had taken her shower and left her hair down to dry.

She might look cute if she weren't eating spaghetti like a starving dog.

Gil smiled as he sat down in his other chair next to her. He dug in too, just at a more human pace. It was good spaghetti at least. He peeked over at her.

She licked some sauce off her lips, repeating the motion like a dog licking its chops. She caught him staring and frowned, "what?"

Gil blushed. He hadn't meant to stare, let alone in any particular way, at any particular part of her. He cleared his throat, "uhm, I was, uh, gonna tell a vegetable joke."

She glared at him, cold as ice, daring him to go through with it.

He smiled down at his bowl, "but...it's a little corny."

He needed new material.

Thena laughed. It was quick, and light, and she held up her hand to hide her mouth, but she laughed.

Gil stared at her though, positively elated. She had a cute laugh. "Hey!"

She shook her head, trying to banish the smile from her face, "don't get any ideas."

"But you laughed!" he pointed, even risking her turning around and biting his finger off. "You're laughing!"

Thena faked a dramatic sigh and poked at her food, "maybe it's Stockholm, being cooped up here with you."

"No, you laughed at my joke," he continued to state with the utmost pride. And why the hell not? He had gotten a laugh out of the White Wolf. He felt like he had tamed a bear single handed. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Thena rolled her eyes at him but she didn't get up and leave him to eat alone, like the first night or two. She took another, slower bite. "Call it payment for all your help."

She didn't have to repay him for anything. Although hearing that beautiful laugh she had really was a nice bonus.

[beevean]

Short trade with @the-crow-binary :) inspired from this old piece, because sometimes, you're just in need of feeding your rarepair.

~

"My Lord, I can feed myself..."

Hector's protests went unheard. In fact, his husband's crimson eyes seemed to twinkle with delight while he shifted on his lap; it was a good thing Hector had the strength to bear his weight, and enjoy the close contact without any discomfort.

"I know, dear. I've watched how graceful you are when you feed... You're a merciful vampire, and a merciful Lord." Mathias' fangs shone like gems in his smile, as he swirled the golden chalice in his hand with lazy twists of his wrist. "But how tedious would our existence be if we only bothered to feed to satisfy our animal needs?"

That, he could agree with. It took thirty years or so before Hector felt ready to take the plunge, and join his beloved in immortality. The prospect of shedding his humanity, after fighting tooth and nail to reclaim it, had been terrifying: would he be ready to shy away from the sun, and find comfort in the shadows? Would he be ready to sink his teeth in human flesh, and force on others the same pain that had been forced on him? And would he be ready to exist beyond the limits of time, growing distant from the world as a whole, witnessing empires rise and fall while he stayed untouched and unchanging?

Only his Lord - his real Lord, not the monster that took his semblance and used him and toyed with his heart - could allay his worries. And not one day, ever since he had woken up in his coffin and his blood had frozen inside his veins, he ever regretted his unholy marriage.

Yes, Hector more than looked forward to spending his existence not as a mere vampire, but as Lord Cronqvist's consort, joined as one person.

"Very well, my king," Hector reclined on his throne and grinned, pulling Mathias' face closer to his, until it was all he could see, all it mattered. "I trust you."

It was all his husband needed to hear. In one swift motion, he lifted the chalice to his mouth and tilted it. However, Hector's keen senses noticed that his Adam's apple was not bobbing, and no sound of swallowing accompanied the gesture. And like that, he understood.

So, he put no resistance when Mathias closed the gap between them, with cheeks slightly swollen, and instead readily parted his lips.

Blood, thick and rich blood flowed from his beloved mouth to Hector's, slightly cooled down but no less exquisite. Hector drank in slow, steady gulps, letting the nectar down his dry throat, but not without darting his tongue out, caressing Mathias' soft lips and pointy fangs; he reciprocated with eagerness, entangling both tongues in languid strokes, mixing blood and venom in a heady concoction he could not get enough of.

In occasions such as these, he did not miss needing to breathe.

With Hector's disappointment, eventually he finished drinking all the blood, and Mathias straightened his back, face glowing with satisfaction. Privately, Hector missed his human eyes, that glistened like jades, but he was still utterly beautiful, more than the angels he used to pray to.

"Well, precious? Would you allow me to pamper you for longer?"

Mathias wiped some drops of blood that slipped out of Hector's mouth; he kissed the finger, and then he grasped the whole hand and planted more kisses on the back, because they might be no longer Lord and knight, but his husband still shivered in pleasure as if he were still human and Hector could ask for nothing more.

"As you wish, my love," he murmured against Mathias' fair skin. "We have enough time."

[kaiscreamingloaf]

Au with too much work and one spontaneous trip to Iceland. It's possible, not very clear, but Markus is a design engineer, and Clem is an artist, photographer, designer and editor (maybe something else too, but he himself is not sure)

and maybe I need to go somewhere too тт

[bleachswing]

cause i'm a brooklyn baby

[sweetwolf05]

Max: I give up. *whines*

Sam: Now you've done it. You broken Max's spirit with your stupid attempts to pick up object.

Au made by @gilgummybear

[retro-cows]

Breaking Bad Role-Swap AU time? fuck yeah baby!

Stacey takes up Mike's role, pretty much being "haha, christian mom" instead of "haha, old man", while Max is just a far more anxious version of Gus (also he took his last name after he died in this AU