#What hides behind his grin and clever words (headcanons)

[sing-mei]

Super quick character ref sheet

[elephart-hi]

The Mortal Maiden: Witch AU

Chapter 1: A (doomed) Mission at Hollow Hall

with a Jude wip for a larger piece, I'm doing for this fic!!!

Set during The Cruel Prince

Summary: For her whole life in Elfhame, Jude had been convinced that mortals were unable to do magic. She clearly remembers Madoc telling her that there were no witches in fairyland. She assumed he meant that they didn't exist, not that they had been hunted into extinction. During one of her missions at hallow hall, Jude received information about a spell that requires a unicorn and a witch and her whole world gets turned sideways as she discovers why they were eradicated. After another mission where Jude saves a strangers life, an ancient grimoire finds its way to her bed with a note from the stranger thanking her for saving them and warning her to only read the spellbook but not to practice the magic within, lest she wishes to be burned by the folk. Jude heeded the warning as if Oriana had given it to her herself, that is she completely ignored it and did what she shouldn't. Tensions are high as the coronation swiftly approaches and Jude finds herself more deeply entwined with the web of lies that ties the Greenbriar line together than ever before. With nothing but her wits and her secret sender to aid her magical studies, Jude can only hope to make it out unscathed.

Rating: Mature but not explicitly till later chapters!

Ao3 chapter 2

AN: This is set during the cruel prince. I absolutely love the different character development of the characters from book to book. Specifically, Jude in book one being like I have no clue how to be a spy I’m going to fucking die and it’s my fault for making a deal with Dain! curse me, god! Always made me laugh. So playing with that and with Cardan’s talking door. I like to think the door can move around hollow hall so that is a headcanon in here. We were robbed of spy jude content and all it’s potential so here. we get to the witches later I promise

Jude Duerte had, on numerous occasions now, cursed herself for thinking she could ever be a spy in fairyland. For starters, she was a seventeen-year-old mortal up against fairies a hundred years her senior. Her mortality happened to be the very reason she couldn’t use magic, which brings us to the second reason being a spy was a foolish, foolish thing for her to be: she was at a monumental disadvantage to everyone else in fairyland because they were magical assholes by nature.

As she raced through the crowded party at Hollow Hall, ducking between dancers and enslaved mortals caring trays of fairie wine, trying to avoid the guards who caught her stealing, Jude realized that being mortal had another disadvantage since it probably made her incredibly disposable to Dain, the prince she served under and who she was, for all intents and purposes, enslaved to thanks to the geas she struck with him. Her death would be of little consequence to the prince.

She reached her hand out and grabbed the ostentatiously carved banister to her right, using it to swing her momentum in a direction where the guards wouldn't have her surrounded. She barrelled into a stairwell hidden from the view of the ball as people started shouting. Jude had at least remembered something she’d learned from her short time training in the spy’s keep: always find multiple exit routes. She had scouted out the stairwell before her mission had gone sideways as she mingled amongst the folk.

She raced up the stairs nearly tripping on her gown as she began her climb, heart racing so fast she thought it would burst out of her corset. Her geas with Dain would protect her from fairy enchantments but it wouldn't protect her from being impaled by a sword or spear. Regardless of how skilled she was with a blade herself, ten immortal guards against one human did not seem like good odds.

As Jude continued her ascent she realized that her exit route was less of an exit and more of a path further into the manor. The roach would have her neck for her idiocy… If she lived to ever see him again. She should have gone for the servant’s quarters instead, she thought with a groan. From there she already knew her way out of the manor. She didn’t think she would have guards chasing her on her way out so she had, rather foolishly, assumed she would be able to explore more of the massive grounds and figure out the layout better for the next time Dain sent her here to spy on his elder brother: Prince Belkin. Now Jude just hoped she would live to see another night, much less another mission.

As she continued her ascent up the round cobblestone stairwell, the noise of the party became lost to her and she couldn’t hear the guards in pursuit anymore. Perhaps her quick exit had been in her benefit after all. If she had gone for the servant’s quarters they surely would have seen her use it and would have gone after her. Each turn up the stairs, she passed a candle in an alcove, lighting the cobblestone steps beneath her. She paused to rest on a dark step outside the reach of the candle’s glow, lest someone use the stairs and see her hunched over in its flickering light catching her breath.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the note she not so subtly nipped from her target. Right as she had grabbed the note out of his pocket, a fairy with copious amounts of cologne passed her and made her sneeze. The messenger in front of her immediately spun around but before he could get a word out Jude had him in a chokehold; his cries for help dying in his throat. She had thought herself so clever until the goblet in his hand clattered to the floor, gaining the attention of a nearby guard. Then she had felt like an idiot, as the guard called for reinforcements.

The manor would be crawling with them now, but they would all be looking for a fairy with horns, yellow eyes, and pointed ears. Jude had gotten the costume from a gothic store in the mall of the mortal lands and tonight it proved to be useful. She chuckled to herself as she pulled the horns from her hair and removed the fake ears and colored contact lenses. She tucked them all into a large pocket of her skirt, making sure to put her contacts into their case. Once her breath had settled and she looked nothing more than a mortal servant again, Jude continued her ascent up the stairs, hoping that she wouldn't gain any more unnecessary attention until she was a long way from the manor and back in the safety of the spy’s keep.

Once she reached the door atop the stairs, Jude leaned her ear against the wood, listening for any potential passersby in the hall. She nearly pissed herself and fell back down the flight of stairs when a doorknocker, which certainly hadn’t been on the door when she leaned against it, blinked and spoke to her.

“Looking for trouble or hiding from it, my dear”

Jude didn’t have a clue what to say. What does one even say to a doorknocker? No matter how long she has lived in fairyland, the world and its strange magic always managed to perplex her. So she just stared at the metal face that was now molded into the door completely dumbfounded.

“You’re being rude.”

Jude shook herself from her stupor, and raised her chin, “Neither. What would make you think I was in any kind of trouble?”

“Probably something to do with you pressing your ear to the door to see if the coast was clear,” the doorknocker said with a stern face.

Jude pressed her lips together. Once again cursing herself for thinking she could be a spy. It was obvious that she wasn’t the encorcelled servant she was posing to be. She internally groaned; the stars were certainly against her tonight. If she said she was hiding from trouble she would be admitting to some extent of guiltiness; with that thought a scheme started taking form in her mind.

“Looking for it,” she said decidedly, mustering up a smirk that she didn’t feel, “do you know where I could find any?”

The door squinted at her, judging the truth of her words as he eyed her round ears, “try the second to the last door on the right,” he said, swinging open for her with a returning smirk on his metal face that made Jude uneasy.

“Perfect,” she replied mustering more false bravo into her voice, “and afterward when I need to hide from the trouble I find what direction would you point me in?”

The door beamed at her then, a grin stretching the brass of its face.

“Down the hall past that door there will be a stairwell hidden behind a tapestry depicting a pixie orgy. Take the stairs to the bottom and you will find yourself at the stables,” the door still smirked at her, as if he knew what she had been planning all along.

Jude curtsied at him and went on her way, planning on foregoing the ‘looking for trouble’ bit but, to her surprise, the doorknocker’s face appeared on the backside of the door when it closed behind her. Jude was certain now that the doorknocker hadn’t been there when she arrived. It must be enchanted to move as it pleased. Now he watched every step she took. Jude would have thought it a very clever way of safeguarding one’s manor if the door was not a huge liability for her now.

As she proceeded down the carpeted hall, the doorknocker’s face magicked from one door to the next, smirking at her as she made her way past ancient doors, scenic art of battles and kings long past, and tapestries woven by the hands of skilled sprites. Every inch of the hall radiated extravagance, much like the two fairy princes who lived here.

She had no option but to go ‘looking for trouble’ now, Jude realized with irritation, not if she wanted the door to keep quiet about her lurkings. However, Jude hardly needed to look for trouble, she could hear the cries of guards searching the manor for a thief. She had already found enough of it today as is.

When she reached the second to the last door on the right, the one the doorknocker had instructed her to find, she realized that she recognized it from her last mission at Hollow Hall. Her stomach felt squeamish at the memories it brought up. Of Belkin and the belt. Of the owner of this room kneeling on the floor taking the beating.

The annoying doorknocker appeared on the wooden door, right in front of her face, his eyes squinting at her.

“Just what kind of trouble will I be getting into?” she asked, “is Cardan inside?”

Jude dreaded the answer. The door probably brought her here to turn her into him. She had the sinking feeling that she was a dead man walking. She could only imagine what Cardan would do to her when he caught her, mind drifting to the note with her name furiously scrawled onto it over and over again. A chill ran down her spine.

“I was assuming you were looking for the fun kind of trouble, Jude,” the door replied, his brass eyes glinting in mischief as he said her name as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking of. She wondered if he had watched her steal the book from Cardan’s room. She wondered how he knew her name. The torches of the corridor cast a golden gleam on the metalworking of his brass face, the craftsmanship reminded her of her father’s blades and metalworking. Her chest squeezed at the memories of her late father, but not before she shuddered at whatever the door considered being ‘fun’.

“How did you know it was my young prince’s chambers?” the door asked dubiously, suspicion laced his voice. Perhaps he hadn’t witnessed her previous mission after all.

Jude ignored his question since he ignored one of hers, “how did you know my name?” she snarked back.

The doorknocker averted his eyes, clearly not wanting to answer. She smirked and continued.

“What would you do if I were to bolt?”

“Then my prince would hear of your suspicious whereabouts,” he replied, a smirk returning to his metal face. Jude wasn't sure which prince he referred to, Belkin or Cardan. She knew one was worse than the other. Cardan was only nineteen with no true courtly power since he was still in school. Belkin on the other hand was the eldest prince to the High King, was centuries old, and was in no shortage of power.

Jude realized, as the sound of the guards searching the manor grew closer, that she had no options that were beneficial to her. She did, however, have one option that was far better than the other. The guards in question would be in the hall at any second by the sound of it. She could either bolt now, get captured by them, and have the doorknocker spill her secrets... or she could face whatever was on the other side of this door.

For all that she knew Cardan could still be at the revel a few floors down. Drunk on wine and merriment like he always was and balls deep in a pretty sprite.

The door swung open in front of her, leaving her no chance to rethink her decision as she stepped inside the threshold of the chamber, closing the door behind her. On the other side, she could hear the guards storming into the hall where she had just been standing.

“My prince,” the doorknocker called out, his face now on the backside of the door, peering inside the room, “your mortal maiden has come calling for you.”

Jude’s heart plummeted to her stomach. She couldn’t believe she had hoped that Cardan would still be enjoying the festivities downstairs. Ugh! Of course, the knocker would’ve known he was inside. He could magic from room to room after all. It seemed that the stars truly were against her that night.

She smashed her eyes shut in fear of what was to come next but all she was met with grumbling coming from the beautiful four-poster bed.

Jude peeked her eyes open and saw that Cardan hadn’t even bothered looking up to acknowledge the door. He laid on his bed sprawled out on his side, head hunched over with his nose shoved into a book, his black hair hanging in his eyes. He had one of his black nails caught between his teeth as his eyes darted across the page. He looked so... disarming like this. Nothing like the wicked boy she had come to know at school.

He probably hadn’t the slightest clue about the chaos Jude had caused downstairs, as he sat there completely wrapped up in his own world. From the way he was positioned, Jude guessed he was getting to an interesting part of his book. From behind him, Jude spotted his tail darted in and out of sight, swatting from side to side. It was almost humorous watching his tail change its pace as his eyes flew across the page; the tail speeding up and slowing down depending on what he read before him. This was a wholly unique side to Cardan she had never seen before, not at school, nor the palace revels, nor during her spy missions. So this was the person Cardan was when he was all alone?

The Cruel Prince of Elfhame was… a bookworm?

The door grumbled beside her loudly, clearing his throat, while a small incredulous smile tugged the corners of Jude’s lips.

“In a minute,” Cardan drawled slowly, as though speaking through honey, like his words had to travel all the way back from whatever far off land the book had charted him off to.

“My prince,” the doorknocker urged.

“I’m in the middle of a very important scene, my door, I don’t care for your taunts right now,” Cardan grumbled to the doorknocker, putting the same amount of emphasis on ‘my door’ as the door had on ‘my prince’. They were obviously very familiar with each other from how they spoke. “And she’s not ‘my’ anything!”

The knocker barked out a laugh followed by a wink towards Jude and with that, he vanished. Leaving her alone with Cardan. She turned to the door and tried the handle but it held firm, refusing to turn. She heard the sound of the doorknocker chuckling from the other side of the door; standing guard and locking her inside to face whatever punishment Cardan deemed fit for her. She dreaded what was to come but... he had yet to even notice her there.

Cardan reached over to the bedside table with the hand he had held hostage between his full lips and grabbed a goblet of wine from a tray of cheese, faerie fruit, and crackers. From what she could see before her, Jude decided that Cardan had the makings for a wonderful night of relaxation. The sight made something stir within her, perhaps she did want to look for trouble. How privileged of him to be able to sit here with such comforts while Jude had to enslave herself in a geas and become a spy just to get a scrap of power. He had everything she did not.

Jude realized that there would be no better trouble to find than a chance to ruin Cardan’s perfect night. And just as he was getting to the good part of his book she thought with bitter humor. Boohoo! The poor little prince! She rolled her eyes as resentment swelled within her. Resentment and rancorous jealousy. If the stars wanted her in trouble tonight then who was she to work against them.

She looked him over; his hair the color of raven feathers looked as if he had raked his hands through it a few times, probably in distress for whatever was happening in his book. How lucky he was that he only had to worry about his book and--

--and Balekin's wrath.

All schemes of trouble froze at the sickening memory of the wet sound of Cardan’s blood meeting the leather belt. The memory was a cooling draught to the burning resentment that boiled within her. Perhaps his books were a means of escape from the abuse he endured…

But none of that excused the bullshit he put her through at school! Jude was made to feel small every day since she was stolen away from the mortal world, but you don’t see her taking it out on every person she met.

And just like that, her resentment began to simmer anew. Although less powerful.

She continued to look him over, contemplating just how to ruin his night of relaxation. No adornments graced his ears for once, nor rings on his fingers. Cardan wore a plain sleep shirt whose strings were loose, leaving much of his lean chest exposed; she could see bits of his scars peeking over his shoulders.

Jude thought again about how strange it was seeing him like this. He was still heartbreakingly as handsome as usual except now, with the lack of finery and makeup, Jude almost found him more lovely. All the extravagance that he draped himself in distracted from how naturally breathtaking he was on his own. Now with nothing to distract from his unearthly beauty, Jude found herself almost speechless at the sight of him. It made her furious. How could someone so lovely on the outside be so hideous within?

Jude shook the annoying thoughts from her head and tried the door once more. Locked. Damn it.

Seeing no other option, Jude cleared her throat and spoke at last.

“I supposed I could come back another time then, your majesty,” she sunk into a curtsy to hide her grin when she heard him choke on his wine, realizing that he wasn't alone in his room.

“I would hate to interrupt... especially if you’re ‘in the middle of a very important scene’,” she phrased the last bit like a question, implying its inherent rudeness to dismiss someone over something as trivial as a good book. Although if Jude were to be honest with herself, she wouldn't mind that being a reasonable excuse to dismiss someone.

She looked up and barely choke down the laugh that tried to bubble out of her throat at the sight before her. Of a flabbergasted Cardan with wine now staining the front of his sleep shirt and his black eyes ringed with gold bugging out of his head at the sight of her. He may be beautiful but he looked ridiculous at that moment.

“Now how does your door know my name and why did he refer to me as your maiden?”

chapter 2

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hello!!(feral-trash-panda here!❤️) if you are still taking headcanon requests I would like to request one for J. I was thinking maybe that the reader and J are goofing off and the reader accidentally calls him Jack? And then gets nervous about it?

Oooooh I love this idea!!! It’s super cute ksksks thank you so much for requesting this!!!💚 Because I love you, I’ve made this a platonic piece! I hope that’s okay with everyone else skssksls.

I was watching The Conjuring while I wrote this and I took some inspiration from it!

Word count: 958.

Something had been lingering in your mind for... a while.

It was one word, just one, but, oh, the power it held within its single syllable.

It was a name which you whispered to yourself in moments when you needed some courage, when you needed a reason to smile, when you needed to remember all of your reasons why.

It was a name. One syllable. Four letters.

Jack.

There had been a weight on you over the last few months and J had been forced to watch as parts of you had been stripped away layer by layer... you looked haggard.

As a result of what you were going through, you weren’t sleeping well, you weren’t eating with as much enthusiasm as J knew that you could, and J rarely interfered with what you were going through. 

You lived your life and J lived his and sometimes you met in the middle. 

You always greeted J with true enthusiasm, with genuine want, and anything else just made J feel... off. It was unacceptable for J to be greeted with barely a smile, as he had been last night, and with a cold shiver up his spine had he decided to step in.

Which brought the two of you to the present moment.

You were best friends and there was nothing you couldn’t tell J.

He took you as you were at any given moment and he never questioned anything about how you were feeling, the way that you were thinking... he accepted you without judgement and, truthfully, without care.

Not in a nasty way, but in a way which was very liberating once you had gotten used to it.

J decided to carve out a slot in his chaotic (and oh, how he thrived in these conditions) schedule to cheer you up. Anything less than a smile on your face, anything less than your personal safety and well being, was just wrong.

‘Hide and clap’ was your favourite game to play with each other - J loved the thrill of the chase, and you enjoyed the adrenaline of being chased, knowing all the while that you were never in any danger.

J had playfully put his hand over his chocolate eyes and started to count loudly. 

“Ah -one, two, three - “ It was all you needed to understand what was happening and on the emphasised “four” did you begin to run, desperately thinking up a hiding place.

You and J knew each other like the backs of your hands and you knew that J would know where to look. You were thinking of where to hide in a place where J wouldn’t expect you to be, the last place he would look, but then... J was clever.

He would look in the last place he would think to look because it was the last place.

So you hid in the first place he would think to look.

Sometimes the unexpected was the expected.

You hid under your bed.

“First clap.” J’s gravelly voice sounded from somewhere near the living room downstairs and you clapped firmly twice.

You clapped so hard that it stung your hands and you rubbed them together in an attempt to alleviate the sensation.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs even though J was barely putting weight behind his movements; so old were the floorboards. 

You heard J chuckle and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You curled up on yourself and grinned; you loved playing around with J.

J opened and closed the bathroom door, pretending to look.

He checked the hallway. Nope.

“Second clap.” 

But J didn’t need it.

He already had you and you didn’t even know it. 

He saw your feet poking out from underneath the bed and his grin was nothing if not wolfish.

Got’cha, doll.

Before you even had a chance to raise your hands, a hand seized your foot and dragged you out from underneath the bed, making you shriek with genuine shock.

J was a true hunter, a real predator. 

You had barely heard him move, so stealthy was he.

J growled as he pulled you out fully from underneath the bed. You were flipped over, onto your back, and J loomed over you.

He ripped peals of laughter from your throat as he tickled you, his fingers dancing up your ribs, and you writhed against him.

“Jack, stop!”

Stillness.

J’s fingers stopped. His weight dropped as he fully sat on you. His breathing stopped.

So did yours.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

Your chest rose and fell with each breath as you began to panic and J’s chocolate eyes held your own.

“J, I’m sorry, I - “ You rushed to explain yourself but J stopped you, as always did he when you got like this. He knew you and in moments like this was it most obvious.

“A-ta-ta, shush shush shush,” J shook his head slowly, just once. Calm down. Then, slowly, slowly, J leaned down so that he could rest his forehead against yours. This was the closest you had ever physically been with J. You were best friends and sometimes you hugged, but you had never been this close.

The physical closeness matched the emotional intimacy, for J spoke only two words which haunted you and stayed with you in the best way for years to come.

“Only you, Y/N.”

It was obvious what J was saying. It really was only you, and in response to J’s simple yet weighted statement did you say,

"I love you too, J.”

A smile, a grunt, and J heaved himself off of you, helping you to stand as he did so.

Sometimes, the best things in life were unexpected.

Destructive raccoon boii™  @cacklinghyena   @anyatheladyclown   @joker-daddy    @rinbyo    @imightaswellnotexistatall    @vladtoly    @joker-is-my-hero    @liz-rdwitch   @enigmaticandunstable      @ledgerskitten  @tsukiakarinobara    @germansarechill   @antonija89   @acw1   @harlequinautumn     @mermaleizroseglasses   @justawriterinprogress     @truthbehindthemysteries  @hotpacino  @call-me-harley-quinn   @mermaidpowers1

[princeanxious]

I love your dragon au, may I have some headcanons?

Uh sure! You weren’t ship specific so i’ll try and be a lil broad and touch on a few for all of em! (Theyre all interconnected in a way but often spend much of their time together apart from the others bc thats how dragons be, even if these dragons are much more social than the average dragon)

Demus- Dragon Remus x Prince(ess) Janus

- Janus is ftm trans! His parents were never supportive and actively tried to hide that from that kingdom at every turn, so, he may have secretly gotten a certain mage’s help “cursing” him with snake/dragon scales & additional certain masculine attributes so that he’d be sent away and get time to live his life without royal duties breathing down his neck. Even if he’d have to live the rest of his life as a prince locked away in a tower.

-Remus is a Dragon that’s known to be very curious, driven to hoard things that intruige him. He lives in a castle he and his brother Roman overtook years ago, and they guard it and their hoards within it well. However, one day a nearby kingdom reached out to them with an offer: if they guard and protect Prince Janus while the kingdom scrambles to figure out what to do, the dragons will recieve offerings to add to their hoards along with provided meals and the means to provide for Janus. All the kingdom requests is to keep Janus safe and happy.

-and of course, they agree to. And Remus falls head over tail inlove in a matter of days. Janus follows soon after he finds that Remus is completely unbothered and supportive of Janus’s transition.

-Janus and Roman also get along super well, tho not in a romantic sense, especially after Roman learns of Janus’s love for plays and acting skills. Roman also gifts a few intricate outfits to Janus from his Hoard of beauty and passion bc they fit the short prince quite well, and because Janus wasn’t given anything to wear from his kingdom aside from tailored princess dresses(which he doesn’t usually mind the skirts portions now w/ his new body but somedays the disphoria would spike back out if he looked in the mirror while wearing one). Roman also helped cut Janus’s hair, and both dragons would growl threateningly at any kingdom official who dared look at Janus’s attire change questioningly. If anyone asked, it was because it made Janus happy and feel safe, and that was their job, was it not?

-Janus loves his new Dragon Boyfriend and his new Dragon brother-in-law(technically?) and this result just solidifies his confidence in the decision he made to get here. Roman and Remus know about the secret behind the curse and what Janus did to get here, they think he’s super fcking clever bc of it. And, Ro and Re swear on their hoards that they’ll never spill the secret if Dee doesn’t want them to, one because the Kingdom would then have a lead on trying to Reverse the Curse, and two, because it would put the life of the mage who was asked to do it in danger, and three, because their dragons and dragons are very very good at protecting what they love.

Logince- Dragon Roman x Knight Logan

-Logan is a prince to a neighboring kingdom, and he was betrothed to Janus in an arranged marraige sort of settup. Niether of them loved the other like that, but they were best friends and Logan respected(and defended) Janus being trans. So when he finds out something happened to Janus, he’s alarmed and upset that he wasn’t informed sooner. Then he finds out Janus is being guarded by dragons, of all things! And well, he needs to make sure Janus us safe, and find out whats wrong, what happened? And no one stops him from traveling out to the castle that houses the dragons to find out. The least he can do is make sure Janus is okay and respected by the dragons, but like hell is he going to wait for Janus’s scrabling kingdom to catch up.

The first thing he’s greeted by is a tall red scaled dragon, and he’s immediately on guard. The dragon grins and drops into a defense position. They don’t ask the other questions, which Janus will give both of them shit for later, but both parties are fueled by challenge and protective goals. And they launch into battle without a word.

-Roman is immediately intruiged and excited to find how Logan matches him in a fight, actually standing a pretty solid chance despite his weight and height. Logan is a skilled swords man, the best in his kingdom, its a shame his only downfall is that Roman has twice the height on him and more than twice the muscles, figuratively and literally. But even then Logan isn’t deterred and is capable of flipping the dragon onto his back which is p hot roman cant lie, so its a p even scuffle bc Romans highly entertained w/ this mysterious attacker.

-they kinda get caught up in the scuffle for a good while till Remus comes out to investigate and Logan disengages and dashes into the forest bc he’s smart enough to know he can’t really win the fight w/ one dragon, two is a death sentence.

-roman spends the whole night heated and excited as he rambles about the gorgeous short knight who nearly kicked his ass. Logan spends the whole night rethinking his strategy and trying not to get distracted by the memory of the infuriatingly hot smirk the dragon kept aiming at him.

-they scuffle twice more, filled with witty remarks and snarky quips that progressively get more flirty before they think to speak about /why/ Logan wants into the castle b4 the truth comes out.

-both are a little sheepish when Janus finds out just who Roman’s been waxing poetic about kicking his butt in an even match and spend a good 20 minutes scolding their gay af selves. Then Logan gets updated on the whole situation, including his not so subtle transition and his new dragon bf. Logan gets the dragon’s permission to visit so long as he keeps things a secret, and he scoffs that they’d think he’d even dare to try to ruin his best friends happiness.

-niether of them really knows when their little rivalry picked back up, but Roman and Logan spend their time together bickering and taunting eachother while playing a semi-unbalanced game of cat and mouse. Logan’s not allowed into the castle w/o playing their game first, and he honestly doesn’t mind. Their interactions get way more flirty and theyre just gay disasters that take way to long to admit their developing feelings till it all kinda rushes out the moment Roman pins Logan to a wall and Logan reaponds by locking his legs around the other, daring to keep him there.

-yeah they express their feelings to eachother in many ways that day. And Logan ends up secretly(to his kingdom at least) dating Roman, and Roman gets a prince bf of his own. They still taunt and play their game of cat and mouse tho, now its just accompanied by a ton more kissing.

Moxiety- Dragon Patton x Mage Virgil

-Virgil is the mage that helped Janus transition in secret, they’d been friends for a long while and meeting in secret to plan it. Virgil’s a pretty powerful mage and talented at what he does, and Janus’s trasition was a spell he cast himself, and its irreversable(on purpose, by Janus’s request/demand)

-Virgil travels alot now adays, never staying in one public place too long in fear of Janus’s knights suspecting him and capturing him. He knew the risk and was willing to pay the price to make Janus happy. He knows he must lay low for a while, and hes not very open about being a mage in fear of that being found out.

-well, one day he finds himself in a town not so open to the idea of magic in general. Its one slip up hes not sure he regrets to heal an injured child, but he finds him self tied to a wooden stake that same day, surrounded by a village chanting about how all magic is evil.

-and then a dragon swoops over and snags him from the fire as it ignites, just barely sinking his clothing before hes up in the sky. He promply blacks out from shock.

-and when he wakes up, he finds himself tucked carefully into a hammock with a soft blanket. The room he’s in is filled with an interesting assortment of things, haphazardly placed enough to register as a hoard than any other kind of room in this tower. That and the dragon that rescued him is resting nearby, his blue scaled wing outstretched and draped over Virgil protectively is kind of a dead giveaway too.

-Virgil would learn later that Patton had been following him, lead by how his hoarding instincts weirdly worked. He’d be thankful then, that they saved his life, despite the fact that he now technically counted to Patton’s instincts as part of his hoard. Patton was adamant that he’d been trying to rid himself of the attachment before, but once Virgil was in danger his insticts had been set aside to save the poor human. He couldn’t help that touching Virgil just solidified his instincts’s claim.

-Patton lets Virgil know he’s welcomed to leave any time he wants to, that they were safely away from the dangerous village now. Virgil finds he doesn’t want to leave just yet, and they settle on becoming friends.

-Patton is friends with Roman and Remus, and often visits them when he’s feeling too lonely. He’s plenty friendly with Janus and Logan at this point, being a much softer natured dragon than the twin dragons.

-the group finds it very, very coincidental and very ironic the first time Patton brings Virgil with him to hang out.

-their love story is a bit slower, but lets just say one day months down the line, Virgil pulls Patton into a really shy kiss and Patton all but startles Virgil with the happy purr that bursts from the back of his throat. Its not to much longer after that that theyre relationship is fully established.

[faulty-writes]

Headcanons or drabbles for Kirishima, Tamaki and Mirio being hit by a villain's quirk that makes them act mean, horrible, and even violent. Aizawa tries to put them in quarantine until it wears off, but they manage to escape. They encounter their SO, who is unaware of what's happened, and runs away after being abused by them in this state. A few hours later, after Aizawa's recaptured them and the quirk has finally worn off, they remember every despicable they said and did to their SO. Fluff end?

Eijirou Kirishima 

A growl escaped when he locked eyes with you, he was under the influence of a villain's quirk. He had managed to escape the holding cell Aizawa put him in and eagerly searched for you.

Though you were unaware of what had happened. You ran up to him, only to have him grab onto your shirt and pull you forward. You shivered when you saw his angry expression. “I’m sick of you and your goddamn cheerful attitude! It’s really fucking annoying!” you didn’t understand why he was saying such things, but he pushed you back and caused you to stumble onto the ground. 

You felt your eyes begin to water as he continued to speak, “Look at you, so goddamn pathetic and you call yourself a hero? I can’t believe I’m dating such a loser.” he said and you felt tears run down your cheeks. “W-Why are you saying that?!” you demanded.

He only chuckled at your question, “You’re pathetic, too soft for my taste. So why don’t you crawl back to the garbage dump where you belong and stop wasting my time!” he snapped and you felt your heartbreak. What happened to him?

It didn’t take long for Aizawa to find you after you had run away, “Where’s Kirishima?” he demanded, and though your eyes were still puffy and red. You answered, “He was here about a half-hour ago and he-” Aizawa interrupted you, “He was uncharacteristically mean huh?” your eyes widened, “How did …” he looked past you, “He was hit by a villain’s quirk. That’s all you need to know.” he said before taking off. 

Kirishima had put up quite the fight before Aizawa managed to lock him up once more. When the villain’s quirk wore off, the memories of what he had said to you flashed through his mind. He felt terrible and the first thing he did was pull you in for a hug. “Y/n ...I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say all those nasty things it’s just …” you swallowed as you thought back to the harsh words he spoke but shook your head.

You tried your best to convince Kirishima it wasn’t his fault. But he refused to believe you. “N-No ...I don’t want to hide behind that excuse! Y/n! Please ...whatever I said, you know it’s not true right?’” he questioned as he pulled back and you noticed his tears. “I don’t think you’re pathetic! I think you’re a wonderful hero and I ...I love you, I never want to let you go!” he exclaimed before once more holding you tight. “Never ...so please ...don’t leave me.” he cried out. You meant too much to him. 

Tamaki Amajiki 

You were still trembling when Aizawa found you, small bruises littered your body. What came over Tamaki you’d never know, but it seemed like an ordinary day. You were busy waiting for him at the Fat Gum Agency but you were unaware of the villain Tamaki had faced.

No one had called the Agency to report Tamaki was hit with an unknown quirk and frankly, you thought it was strange when your boyfriend didn’t return from his patrol. However, you assumed something was keeping him and proceeded back to the dorm building. That’s when you saw him, he was still dressed in his hero attire which had rips and smudges across it. It looked as if he had tried to escape from somewhere, which you found odd. 

When you tried to get his attention, he merely growled at you and the next thing you felt were his tentacles around you. “Ah!” the world blurred as Tamaki pulled you close to him, those tentacles tightening their hold. “T-Tamaki!” you cried out, “S-Shut up!” he snapped and your jaw dropped. Tamaki was never angry.

“You c-call me S-Suneater when I’m d-dressed like t-this or h-have you f-forgotten, Bunny?” he retracted his tentacles. But before you could register, he reached out to grab your chin. His nails dug into your skin and you whimpered as you reached up to pull his hand away. “S-Stop doing t-that! You c-can’t escape! I b-bet you j-just thought I w-was some p-pushover.” you trembled in fear.

He proceeded to slap you across the face, leaving your cheek with a red handprint. “W-Well I’m not! I-It’s because of y-you, h-holding me b-back that I a-appear like t-that! I-If I didn’t h-have you, I c-could b-be accomplishing m-more! Y-You’re nothing b-but a nuisance I s-should have gotten r-rid of a long t-time ago!” he snapped before grabbing your arm.

You never thought Tamaki was capable of physical violence but by the time you had managed to escape, your body was covered in bruises and a few small cuts. Of course, you hadn’t realized what happened until Aizawa found you and claimed he had recaptured Tamaki. You didn’t understand at first, but when you realized Tamaki had gotten hit by a villain’s quirk. Suddenly his behavior made sense. Though you were afraid, Tamaki seemed rather remorseful and his tears were enough to prove that.

“B-Bunny! I’m s-so sorry! I l-love you! I w-would never h-hurt you l-like this, p-please ...don’t l-leave me! I p-promise I’ll t-take care of your b-bruises!” he said as he buried his face into your chest, his tears soaking into your shirt. Though your body still ached, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “Tamaki ...it’s okay ..” he shook his head and squeezed you, “I l-love you. P-Please …” you knew Tamaki had anxiety and more than likely was afraid he’d lose the one thing that mattered most to him. “I love you too, Tamaki,” you said, letting him continue to cry until you convinced him you wouldn’t leave.

Mirio Togata 

“Where do you think you’re going, sunshine!?” you trembled when you heard his voice, but refused to look back as you continued to run. Unfortunately, Mirio phased through the ground in front of you. Wearing his hero attire and his usually kind eyes were full of anger. “M-Mirio! Please ...stop this, you’re scaring me!” you had been nearby when word of a villain attack spread and you while you heard the situation was under control and to go about your activities.

Mirio had been captured by Eraserhead only to escape a few hours later. It was unknown how long the villain's quirk would have an influence over him and once more word spread that civilians should remain inside while the search for Lemillion was underway. You had taken shelter in an abandoned building nearby but the last thing you expected was to see your boyfriend there. But the smile he wore didn’t sit right with you and while you had asked him what’s wrong. He said nothing and proceeded to engage in combat with you.

You had tried to run away after dodging a few of his attacks, but Mirio was clever and not many could escape him. “Oh, are you scared? Heh, good. You always seemed kind of like Tamaki in that way, too scared for your own good.” he replied and you growled, “What!?” you snapped, but it only caused him to chuckle. “You heard me,” he replied before disappearing through the floor, you froze and looked around.

You cried out when you felt him grab you from behind, his lips pressed to your ear. “Or do I need to get closer? You were never good with listening either or being a hero. It’s kind of dumb really, I don’t know how you got into the hero course with your abilities. You can’t even stop me, your ever so loving boyfriend from wiping the floor with you.” he grinned before twisting your arm, making you cry out.

He seemed to enjoy torturing you for a while and even slammed you into the floor, his hand wrapped around your throat and you knew you would have been a goner if not for Eraserhead showing up. He disabled Mirio’s quirk and allowed you a chance to escape, of course you ran back to the only place that felt safe after your boyfriend’s assault. Which happened to be your dorm room. Hours later, Aizawa knocked on your door. When he explained what had happened to Mirio, you demanded to see him, and though Aizawa was hesitant at first. He allowed it, if anything because he knew your relationship with Mirio.

When you arrived at the police station, Mirio was sitting in a chair with his head low. You could tell he had been crying and you walked over to gently lay your hand across his. You watched him jump in response and turn to look at you, “Y/n …” he said in a whisper before looking away, he felt ashamed of what he had said and done. He didn’t care if he was under the influence of some quirk, he still said such awful things and hurt you. “I...I’m so sorry, sunshine. I ...I remember what I did and I …” his hands curled into fists and more tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Don’t say it’s not my fault,” he said sternly as he looked back at you. Somehow you knew better than to argue with him and instead, laid your head in your lap. Your arms loosely wrapped around him. He leaned back and a small tremble ran through him. “S-Sunshine …” he whimpered, “How can you trust me so easily after what I did to you? I ...I love you, but ...I’ll never be able to forgive myself.” another sob escaped him and you leaned up to cup his face. Your thumb brushing away those tears, “Then I’ll forgive you for you.” you replied before leaning close and heard him sob as your lips connected. He was so grateful to have you. 

[twisted-nox-sidus]

Hello there, I’ve just read your headcannon of Strix trolling the Octavinelle trio. LOL. Thank you for the laughs. Since April fool’s day is coming. If you have the time, can you do a scenario where Strix trolls the other dorms with the help of her dream eaters. If you can include Malleus, it’s okay. If not, I understand. Thank you and stay safe.

Anon continued: Hi there, during my previous post, I was asking whether or not Malleus would join Strix’s trolling in trolling the other dorms since April Fools is coming. Oh! I almost forgot, can Grim and Lilia join with Strix in trolling. Thank you and have a good day or night.

Oof, doing six other dorms is a lot in one post, so I’ll keep things condensed, hence the headcanon format (sorry if you really wanted a scenario version!). I see Malleus and Lilia as types to watch for entertainment than directly take part in it. Strix left Grim out of her plans since he himself is chaotic already. It was time for her to assume the lead and let it out, at least for the day.

It’s come to my attention that I like doing headcanons of Strix and her dream eaters, so I plan on doing more headcanons/scenarios involving the pesky but cute spirits. They don’t stop here so look forward to it! Happy April Fool’s~

Heartslabyul

Heartslabyul could handle strange things more so than any other dorms. Just not anything against the crimson tyrant’s 810 rules.

“WHO PAINTED THE ROSE MAZE BLUE?!!!”

Riddle’s face fumes as red as his hair. Not a single trace of red is found! There was only blue as far as the eye can see.

Deuce, Trey, and Cater were rendered speechless by the sight. Just...wow. They’re not even dreading the culprit’s fate at Riddle’s mercy; instead they’re impressed with the feat. Such commitment!

Meanwhile Ace was resisting from bursting in a fit of laughter. That madwoman actually did it! She even casually remarked about doing such a feat but no one had paid her words seriously. Bravo! Bra-freaking-vo!

Ah, speaking of...

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face, Strix! You must be begging for your head to roll! This is defying the Queen of Hearts herself! Repaint every single rose -by yourself- until all is red!”

“Sheesh, let’s not get a rage stroke. You’re still so young...” Strix nonchalantly yawns. “I wanted to surprise you so I spent the whole night painting every rose blue. Of course, I had a helping hand with me.”

She vaguely gestured to the dream spirit hiding behind her leg. Me Me Bunny’s ears act as another pair of hands, and this cutie is quite dextrous; it also knows “bun fu”.

“Oh you surprised me all right. [Surprise] is only an understatement!”

A sigh. “You don’t get it, Riddle. Think of it this way. Blue makes the red stand out. Then the only red rose we’ll see...is you, my queen.”

She leans forward to slip a strand of Riddle’s velvet red locks between her fingers and graze her lips on them. Her half-lidded bright blue eyes gaze into his steel gray pair. Perhaps she was still under the drowsy spell to comprehend what she was doing, though a part of her was knowingly teasing.

Riddle stared wide-eyed. His cheeks flushed in a different meaning this time.

She pulls back to give space and turns the other way.

“Plus, contrary to your words, I think you actually like my surprise. It’s certainly not boring. And it’ll only be for today.”

Strix flashed a lazy grin his way.

“Happy April Fool’s~”

Savanaclaw

Strix’s dream eaters are quirky, adorable, and colorful spirits. Jack often questions their capabilities. What can little prey do to the brawny hotheads of Savanaclaw?

A lot.

One day Strix was on patrol. Jack had been keeping an eye as she works part-time as the “cleaner” of Savanaclaw. Just how much power can she draw from these familiars? It was a test for Strix to see if she can meet the standards of a respectable magician in this academy.

Meanwhile Ruggie anticipates something interesting will happen. Strix’s dream eaters are an enigmatic force to reckon with. He himself certainly doesn’t plan on confronting them since that’s not what he signed up for as vice dorm leader.

The hyena snickered his trademark laugh. What mayhem will the prefect student do?

Strix had to break up a fight for the nth time this week. Things happened, and one of the students said something that forced Strix to deal her hand.

Instead of commanding her eagle and hawk to attack, she summoned a single chubby cat/dog hybrid with stubby legs. It doesn’t look like a clever beast.

Aww, look at it roll around and paw at air for affection while its pink tongue stuck out. They’re going to die of cuteness.

Strix blankly stared ahead. “Meow Wow... Balloon.”

Said spirit stood on all four legs and stopped wagging. Every onlooker watched as it inflated in size. It continued to grow and grow until no one could see the light of day. It was then everyone thought it’d be wise to run from immediate vicinity.

However it was too late when Meow Wow deflated in puffy smoke and sparkles, drowning its victims along with the plume of clouds.

Jack and Ruggie watched from a platform above where they could see the area in action.

“Magic familiar tamers have unique strengths...” Was what Jack concluded. A hawk and eagle’s cries pierce the sky.

Ruggie rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s be real; in this world, birds are a real hassle. As long as you don’t make an enemy of them...”

Strix was already gone by the time Meow Wow inflated. Her eagle dream spirit now willingly massive in size acted as her glider and transporter. Strix’s body dangled as she clung tightly to her Eaglider’s talons until it settled her on the balcony of a dorm room. Eaglider flew to patrol elsewhere alongside Halbird, the hawk dream eater.

Sitting on a chair was Leona playing with a chess piece in his hand. A chessboard was already set up on the table, the black side facing him.

“Enjoying your job, aren’t you.”

Strix allowed a sheepish smirk. She’s not exactly proud to engage in cleaning up people’s messes, but there’s the thrill she finds in it. “To be honest, yeah. I think I might be a sadist at this point...” She mumbled under her breath and continued, “Sorry for the wait. Let’s start.”

Scarabia

“Jamil, a rainbow fish is swimming through the skies!”

“Nonsense. There are no aquatic animals in Scarabia. You probably just saw a magic carpet.”

“Then how come no one told me magic carpets can shoot lasers??”

Before Jamil can decipher whatever the hell Kalim meant by that, the sapphire blue skies turned murky. No, that wasn’t the work of clouds.

To everyone’s bewilderment, they bared witness to a school of colorful fish roaming freely through the air and above the whole dormitory aimlessly.

Lasers shoot from their mouths and make contact with the other to cause sparks to erupt in colorful fireworks. So that’s the laser part...

Kalim’s eyes sparkled. “It’s like the aquariums at Octavinelle, but airborne! *gasp* I just got a great idea for the next party!”

“For the nth time Kalim no more parties this month!”

*whistle* “Fin Fatale’s actually enjoying this. Who’d knew?”

The two boys turn to see Strix approaching them causally.

Strix grinned. “Bet you don’t see this in Scarabia often.”

Pomefiore

Pomefiore students have a tendency to look into a mirror at almost any given opportunity. They recognize every detail of their their highly bestowed beauty, lest they would fail to maintain perfection.

Imagine their surprise when a carbon copy of themselves suddenly replaces their reflection, except in a horrendous eye-burning color palette that screams “clown”

Turns out the copy really is a clown creature with a large tongue. Jestabocky simply loves to prank people at the expense of their reactions, and it took a liking to Pomefiore students.

Strix giggled in amusement, much to Vil’s chagrin. Standing next to the man was a Vil duplicate, except in that hideous orange carrot and lemon yellow palette that made his eyes want to bleed. Of course no one could ever compare to the original, especially a circus mimic at that.

Rook was examining his blood red and ice blue carbon copy. What a refreshing change of pace! “Your dream eaters never cease to amaze, little owl.” “Don’t hunt them for sport though!”

Epel was staring at his clone awkwardly. Cotton candy hair and yellow eyes are an odd combination. And would it stop grinning uncharacteristically like that? It’s freaky.

Strix looks beside her. Teal green hair, violet eyes, and an orange to yellow uniform color scheme. It’s horrendous, but that’s where the fun lies. Her dream eaters don’t know the meaning of color coordination.

Ignihyde

Strix thinks a surprise here and there in the shut-in dorm leader’s life ought to keep him on his toes. She knows how much Ortho wants him to come out his room, and so she’ll deliver just that.

Idia recieved an alert message as he was browsing the net. A window pops up displaying the security camera footage across the entire Ignihyde dorm.

To his horror, rainbows invaded the cameras everywhere he looked. In each one there was a massive bipedal colorful panda doing something to the students behind the screen. One was lifting a student to the air, another swinging and cradling, and others generally giving bear hugs to any soul -dead or living- that enter their vision.

Though the pandas are harmless and students are unharmed (some seem to enjoy it while others are bewildered in shock), Idia was quaking in his chair. If he walks out the room he’ll be crushed by the pandas’ mercy! (And by rainbows and cuteness!)

He zoomed in one of the footages. A Kooma Panda held a sign directly to the camera.

[YOU’RE NEXT]

This is nightmare fuel! Nightmares, he tells you!

Just as he spun around to hide and cower in the safety of his blankets, he had failed to notice the looming shadow over his flaming head prior to this very moment.

There was the same panda. In his bedroom. Staring right into his soul.

It smiled. (I reread this part and lowkey I realized I was writing a FNaF fanfic for a moment wut)

Idia wheezed. How did it get here?! Was it capable of teleporting?!

The shut-in had never ran for the door to the outside world with such eagerness in his life up to now. He slammed the door open and was about to hit the breeze when suddenly he recognized Strix standing right in front of him.

He practically tackled the poor girl (oof). Just when he dreads the contact with the floor, he felt something bouncy push them off. And then the same bouncing source came from behind. Now he’s squeezed between something.

The world spun in his eyes. Light-hearted laughter snapped him out of his trance. His soul actually came close to leaving him the moment Strix’s face registered in his vision. So close!

Two Kooma Pandas were hugging and nuzzling the two in a human-dream eater sandwich. Awww.

From the sidelines, Ortho watched in awe. That’s one way to bring his big bro out of the room. He eagerly joins in the hug fest with Strix and an all-too drained Idia.

Strix giggled and wrapped her arms around Idia and the panda behind him. She was clearly enjoying this. “Happy April Fools~”

Diasomnia

First things first: Strix can’t fool two all mighty and powerful faeries. Instead, she’ll entertain them like she and her dream eaters have always done. After all, boredom is their kind’s biggest enemy.

One day, Diasomnia students were walking down the halls when they notice a colorful bat creature hanging upside down from the ceiling, innocently watching people pass by.

There was one Komory Bat. The next door over there are two. The door after that door appeared three. In front of the dorm gate there may or may not be a bat perched to greet students in and out.

In the library, students are surprised when they’re greeted by the librarian aid...who was working upside down and levitating with gravity magic.

Strix casually acts as though it was natural. When she had to move away from the counter she continued walking upside down on the ceiling. If the ceiling was too high she’d float over just above people’s heads, and address when needed.

Strix likes to mess with Sebek by doing a “handstand” on his broad shoulders while talking to Silver. Sebek would shoo her off and when he does, Strix still pesters him by floating with a mocking haughtiness behind the way she rocks back and forth while grinning mischievously. The sight is hilarious, much to Sebek’s chagrin.

She can see why Lilia likes doing this. By the end of the day though, that’s enough walking on ceilings for the year.

Strix greets Malleus at eye level. “How’d you like it? Not boring, right?”

The horned fae chuckled. The glimmer of accomplishment in her stunning blue eyes amuses him the most. Like a child who proudly boasts their little achievements to appeal to their parents. It was adorable. “Certainly.”

[shimzus-a]

ok i’m ... only going to talk about my unpopular opinions in regard to kiyoko’s character & her portrayal. i disagree about more things than that, but i’m not trying to overstep my bounds into other people’s portrayals or the way that furudate decided to write hq.

i don’t ship kiyoyachi. i honestly can’t see them as anything more than platonic friends / best friends. kiyoko hasn’t really given any indication of her being interested in dating in the manga, nor has yachi, & their differences in personality & age make me prefer to see them as just friends. more than anything, i think yachi is someone that kiyoko is grateful to have as a friend. furudate has said that kiyoko struggles with her words / communication a lot, which means that kiyoko’s ability to talk to yachi as another girl on an all-boys team, as a senior passing the torch to the future team, & as a simple friend is something she greatly cherishes. he’s also said that he added yachi as a character who “doesn’t overlap with kiyoko-san at all,” further stressing their differences. i think they blend a lot better as friends than they do as partners, & i prefer them to just be platonic. 

kiyoko isn’t rude to her own team, or rude period. she’s usually painted out to be cold & reserved, but it’s clear that she cares for her team. some people might be confused because of the distinction between concise speech & rudeness, but i think that kiyoko’s tendency to give short, simple responses sometimes leads to her being perceived as snippy or curt. but she’s been shown joking with her team ( in an off-brand sort of dark / unclear humor that sugawara also shows, sometimes ), high-fiving / patting them with distinct physical contact ( that a rude person might not ), & smiling around them. the only clear instance of her doing something that could be perceived as “rude” is that oikawa’s current concern lists her as having ignored him. but in contrast, she’s been confronted by terushima & whispered about / talked about by multiple other strangers or opposing players, but she never treats them poorly. she politely tries to excuse herself from terushima, or feigns ignorance / looks away from anyone she hears talking about her. most of the time, it’s tanaka & nishinoya who prevent her from coming in direct contact with boys who think she’s cute, so she’s never clearly “shut anyone down” in a rude way. 

in that same boat, she doesn’t HATE people who flirt with her. hate is such a strong word & i don’t like to use it to refer to her feelings, but sometimes i’ve seen kiyoko be portrayed as the type of person who coldly, meanly shuts people down when they flirt with her. there’s an extra illustration in which she’s wearing a sarashi ( chest wrap ), & oikawa, kuroo, & bokuto exclaim that they want to help promote the volume so they can see her in it. but she doesn’t shut them down for it -- she crosses her arms, blushes, & makes a sort of pout-like expression ( like she’s not pleased with it, but she can’t stop them ). i don’t know where the notion of her being this aggressive, icy “man-killer” came from, but i think her responses to flirtation are pretty normal. most often, tanaka & nishinoya will stop the advances, but if they don’t, she’ll be polite to excuse herself or she’ll pout & feel embarrassed / exasperated by it. she might also rebuke advances with short, dry answers, but this is usually directed towards people she knows well ( tanaka & nishinoya ), & not strangers who could perceive it as rude if they didn’t know her well.

[ speculation ] kiyoko isn’t rich. karasuno has been painted out to be a rural public high school with medium- to low-acceptance standards. kageyama couldn’t pass the written exams to enter shiratorizawa ( a private school ), & i believe aoba josai has also been confirmed to be a private school. furthermore, the facilities at karasuno point to it being a bit of a hodge-podge school -- the volleyball team doesn’t have a coach & they aren’t given a replacement, & the girls volleyball club has to share a gym with the basketball team. so, although this is just my speculation & not confirmed in any way, kiyoko is probably local & comes from a middle-class family, which would be common in suburban / rural miyagi. her out-of-school clothing in some official art suggests that she lives comfortably & can keep up with some fashion trends ( her teddy-esque type jacket in winter, small backpack at the shrine visit, two confirmed pairs of swimsuits, etc. ), but she’s clearly not loaded with money or from a high-class family. 

she’s not a highly intelligent character. she’s in class 3-2, one of the lower level classes ( not a college prep class ). some of her observations in haikyuu-bu ( though it’s technically a comedic spin-off ) suggest that she’s not highly intelligent in the way some other characters are. furudate also comments on her in the haikyuu guidebook, “i created her with the image of a ‘capable secretary’ in mind who does her work in a matter-of-fact manner. but that doesn’t mean she’s cool, in fact i draw her as being not very good with words.” i interpret this choice of wording of “cool” as also inclusive of “intelligent / clever.” i don’t think she’s unintelligent. i wrote a headcanon based on gardner’s multiple intelligences theory to explain that she’s more skilled in certain intelligences, & i plan on writing another headcanon about her intelligence later, but at least in terms of traditional book smarts, she’s not considered intelligent.

she’s not useless. this is an opinion i unfortunately see / hear a lot, & i think it’s rooted in the fact that kiyoko is a minor character, often seen as a block to certain ships, & because karasuno has two managers instead of one. i want to stress that because haikyuu is a sports manga, the majority of the on-page action is in volleyball matches, not the behind-the-scenes work of the managers. kiyoko is a minor character & accordingly doesn’t get much development or time on the page. but what we learn from hints in the manga is that she has essentially taught herself the rules of volleyball with minimal assistance from a senior manager ( since she was recruited in her first year & there was no manager there at the time ), that she is responsible for cooking, washing jerseys, & doing dishes ( from the ‘what if shimizu-san wasn’t the manager’ extra chapter ). sawamura also at one point remarks that she’s “got a lot of work on her hands” before the team plays at the interhigh tournament, which means that even the team captain recognizes her responsibilities & worth on the team. 

9/10 dentists characters have called her pretty. at one point i actually tried to make a list of all the characters who have in some way commented on her appearance or acted strangely around her because she was pretty. off the top of my head, i can list : hinata, yachi, tanaka, nishinoya, sawamura, sugawara, azumane, yahaba, kindaichi, oikawa, yamamoto, lev ( ? ), kuroo, bokuto, terushima, & bobata. unfortunately, furudate’s earlier art doesn’t do her beauty much justice in my opinion ( which is why i think this tends to be downplayed sometimes ), but she clearly has some testimonials to her appearance. 

she’s probably not close with any of the team outside of practice. during their new years shrine visit, the third years remark that it’s the first time they’ve ever all been to a shrine together. kiyoko also states at some point during that visit that she needs to get a gift for someone from class, which clarifies that she probably has friends outside of volleyball class ( in the same way that sawamura knows yui or ikejiri, or hinata knows friends from middle school ). furthermore, when she comes to visit hinata in the first year’s hallway, she gets a lot of comments from other students in shock, asking “who’s that pretty girl talking to hinata” / “hinata knows the hot third year ?” then when she calls hinata outside the school to come to the gym for his updated measurements, a student remarks “whoa, hinata knows that pretty third year !” this tells me that she probably doesn’t visit the first year’s hallway very often ( despite being friends with yachi ), & likely not the second year’s either. 

she’s not insecure about her beauty. her legs, yes, but not her face. i’ve seen some interpretations in fics of kiyoko somehow being embarrassed by her attractiveness, but clearly it doesn’t seem to bother her in the manga, even when she’s flirted with by other characters. she also doesn’t seem to look shy / hide when she wears her swimsuit in official art or puts her hair up in a different hairstyle. 

she has a sense of humor & she knows how to smile. i touched on this in like one sentence before, but she does have a sense of humor. it’s just not what you would expect from her -- it’s a bit dark ( such as when she grins when she scares yachi with the vocabulary term “kill block” ) & convoluted ( such as when she clearly goes against her actions by calling out “oikawa-san !!!” in the anime after ignoring him ). obviously, her humor doesn’t register with everyone, & is probably used at unusual / not obvious times, which means that it isn’t always read as humor. but she’s not some kind of humorless, cold robot girl. she just tends to dial back her reactions & behaviors in a more subdued way than other characters.

[mfingenius]

Hiii~~~ if you’re still taking on requests, could i request a drabble please (or headcanons idm!!!) on the friendships that grows between draco and ron and hermione (and others if you want!!!) after him and harry start dating? maybe from harrys pov? and a scene with draco and rose/hugo with smitten harry would be a lovely bonus to add hehe~ thank you and have a wonderful day love!!!

I hope you have a wonderful day too babe

Alright so it took me ALL day to write this bc I kept getting pulled away from my laptop for one reason or another AND it turned out much longer than expected BUT here it is :DD

——————-

“This is a bad idea.” Draco says. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Love, it’s going to be alright.” Harry assures. “Ron isn’t going to say anything.”

Harry knows that for a fact, because he knows Hermione spoke to him about it. She warmed up to Draco much faster than Ron did - and much faster than Harry expected. It helps that, in a lot of ways, they’re very similar. He’d pointed it out to Ron; they’re both passionate of their beliefs, and stubborn, and clever, and Harry and Ron both stopped making the list right there because both of them had gagged, realizing just how similar their significant others were. Both had been offended afterwards that the other had gagged at their partner.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t like Hermione, of course he does! She’s one of his best friends, practically a sister to him, which is why he doesn’t ever want to think of dating her. In fact,-

“Harry!” Draco’s tone implies that it’s not the first time he’s said it. “I’m not worried about the Weasel.” He is, Harry knows, but he’s not going to point it out. He doesn’t fancy sleeping on the couch. “I just don’t think this is a good idea. They have children. I don’t - I’m not good with children.”

“You’re great with Teddy,” Harry points out. “He loves you.”

As does every other child they know; they’re attracted to Draco’s shiny hair, Harry thinks. Or maybe it’s his eyes, and the way he laughs. His lips. His shoulders, the very kissable nape of his neck, his legs. His kindness, the gentleness of him in the morning. The way he likes for Harry to wrap himself around him at night, holding on tightly. His breath taking arse-

Those are the reasons Harry’s attracted to him. Right. 

No, he honestly doesn’t know why children love Draco, but they do; it helps, of course, that Draco loves children too. He makes silly voices and faces at them, lets them touch his hair, and his eyelashes even if he hates people touching him. He tickles them, and carries them on his shoulders, and they seem to be able to tell that Draco is willing to do all those things for them. They gravitate towards Draco, squealing, and laughing, and batting their long eyelashes at him as if they know Draco’s helpless towards them.

Harry thoroughly enjoys watching it. He thinks Draco will be a natural, when they have children of their own. Not that he’s mentioned that, because he doesn’t want to freak Draco out, even if they’ve been dating for a year now, and Harry’s planning to ask him to marry him. Which is exactly why Harry needs Draco and Ron to get along now.

The ring is in the drawer of his desk in the Ministry, because he thinks if he left it at home, Draco would find it.

“But Teddy’s different.” Draco says. “Sirius is my cousin, and Lupin at least tolerates me.”

Harry doesn’t say that Remus does more than tolerate Draco; he’s quite similar to Sirius, which means that Remus has a sort of… irritated fondness for his wit and petulant sarcasm.

“And Hermione likes you,” Harry reminds. “And Ron will come around, I promise. Please?”

Draco sighs. “Fine. Yes, alright. I’m ready. Okay, let’s go.”

Harry laughs at Draco’s sudden decisiveness, and they walk through the floo and straight into Ron and Hermione’s living room.

“Draco!” Hermione says warmly, immediately hugging him. “How are you?”

She hugs Harry, too, and she accepts the flowers they brought for her.

“Good,” Draco says, swallowing. Harry thinks that, considering how arrogant and condescending he was in school, his nervousness is adorable. Of course, he’s never said that; he doesn’t want to end up hexed. “And you?”

“Good,” Hermione smiles. “Ron is outside with the kis and the grill - go to him, will you, Harry? I’m still nervous about him being around Muggle things. And Draco, you come with me.”

Harry nods, and watches fondly as Hermione drags his boyfriend away from him. He goes out to the patio, smiling when he sees Ron roaring playfully at Rose and Hugo, making them squeal and run away, laughing. 

“Hullo,” He claps Ron on the back, and Ron turns back to him, smiling. 

“Hey, mate.” He says. They hug, and Ron turns back to the grill, already warm. “How are you?” He hesitates, looking a little disgusted as he continues, “And, err, Malfoy?”

Harry bites back a laugh. Though Ron and Draco don’t dislike each other anymore, per se, they don’t like each other either, though they’ve developed an odd friendship that mainly consists of friendly insults rather than real ones. 

Ron’s a good friend though; even if he truly despised Draco, he’d never say anything rude about it to Harry.

“We’re good,” Harry admits. “And you and ‘Mione?”

Before Ron can answer, Hugo and Rose spot Harry. 

“UNCLE HARRY!” They roar together.

Harry smiles and braces himself for the two little hellions that come barreling into his arms, expecting to be lifted up; he doesn’t disappoint. He takes them each in one arm and spins them around until they’re squealing and laughing and begging to be put down.

When he does put them down, Hugo goes to play with Crookshanks - who recently had kittens - and Rose blinks her warm brown eyes at him. 

“Is Draco here?” she asks excitedly. She’s never met him before, but since she heard of his existence as Harry’s boyfriend, she’s been excited to meet him.

“Yes,” Harry nods. “He’s with your mum, but I don’t know if-”

Rose doesn’t bother to let him finish. She toddles into the house quickly, and Ron shakes his head lightly.

“Honestly, it’s good that they’re finally meeting.” He says. “I don’t think I can take another week of her asking me after the ferret.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. He tried to get Ron to drop the ‘ferret’ nickname, but Ron said that he’d drop it when Draco stopped calling him ‘Weasel’. It hasn’t happened yet.

“She’s going to love him.” He says. “Kids always do.”

“I know.” Ron says, seemingly resigned. Harry smiles fondly, and then checks the door to see if Draco or Hermione are near. He can’t see them inside the house, and he shifts nervously.

“I’m going to ask him to marry me.” He blurts out.

“What?” Ron yelps, jerking. The hamburger he was in the middle of flipping flies to high and lands on the grass. Ron doesn’t seem to care. “Marriage?”

Harry scowls lightly. “Lower your voice, they’ll hear you.” His scowl fades, and he smiles lightly, anxiously. “Yeah. I want to marry him. Do you think he’ll think it’s too soon?”

Ron blinks. “Well, you’ve only been dating for a year. I don’t think I’d be ready. But I can never figure out what the hell Malfoy is thinking, so I don’t know what he’d think.” He looks around and lowers his voice. “I didn’t know you were this… serious about him. I thought it was like a - a fling.”

It was. The three months of their one-year relationship there was no commitment; they were shagging. That was it. And then Harry had wanted more, and Draco had miraculously agreed, and here they are, seven months later, living together and with Harry wanting to propose.

“We’re living together,” Harry points out.

“Well, yeah.” Ron says, rolling his eyes. “But you spent three months shagging the guy and insisting that it didn’t mean anything even though it clearly did.” Harry gives a sheepish smile, and Ron looks empathetic. “Look, if you - love him-” he looks constipated as he says it, and Harry hides a laugh behind a cough. “Then you should go for it. As much as I’d rather I hadn’t, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s in this as much as you are, if not more. I don’t think he’ll say no.”

Harry doesn’t think there’s any way Draco’s in this more than he is, because he doesn’t think it’s possible to love anyone more than he loves Draco; he appreciates Ron’s adivce, though. He’s gotten better with feelings now that they’re older, and his advice is always reliable.

“Thanks, mate.” He says. “I-”

The patio door slides open, and Hermione steps out, levitating plates and silverware behind her. Draco steps out then, Rose balanced on his hip; she’s babbling away and petting Draco’s hair at the same time, while he nods and seems to carry a conversation with her even if Harry knows - from experience - that Rose usually doesn’t allow anyone to get a word in when she’s talking. She seems to be pausing thoughtfully whenever Draco adds something, and Harry’s pleasantly impressed.

“Hey babe,” He grins, catching Draco by the waist to press a kiss to his lips, which makes Draco go delightfully red.

Both Rose and Ron gag, but Hermione merely smiles softly, and Draco grins.

“Don’t kiss him, Unlce Harry,” Rose protests. “He’s paying attention to me now.”

“He can pay attention to the both of us,” Harry says mildly, but Rose shakes her head stubbornly. 

“No!” She says. “Only me!”

Harry grins and says, “Alright, alright. I’ll stay away from him, I promise.”

Rose seems satisfied. She ends up sitting on Draco’s lap or on his hip throughout the entire evening, which means that Harry doesn’t talk to Draco until they’re saying goodbye to the Granger-Weasley family.

“Ferret,” Ron says.

“Weasel.” Draco says in return.

Hermione rolls his eyes and kisses both Harry’s and Draco’s cheeks, and then takes Rosie from Draco’s hip.

“Don’t you want to sleep over, Uncle Draco?” Rosie asks. Ron sighs, resigned, and Hermione stiffles a laugh on Ron’s shoulder. “I can continue telling you about Nargles.”

“I have to go home, Rosie,” Draco says. “But I’ll come over again whenever you invite me.”

“Alright,” Rosie says. “You’re invited tomorrow.”

Hermione does laugh then, and Ron glares at the ceiling. Draco smiles, too, and Harry hugs his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“He’s mine tomorrow, sweetheart.” He says. He doesn’t have any particular plans, yet, but he doesn’t think he can go two days without speaking to Draco at all, which is what’ll happen if Rosie hogs him to herself again.

Rosie sighs, resigned, in the similar way that Ron does. “Fine. I’ll share him with you.”

Hermione laughs again, as does Draco. Ron smirks, and says to Harry, “You have competition now, mate.”

Harry merely grins. “Thank you for sharing him, Rosie.”

He kisses her forehead - with a promise to see her again soon - and him and Draco step through the floo, back into the living room of their flat.

“Rosie loved you.” Harry says. 

“I loved her, too.” Draco admits, cheeks flushed happily. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, and Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s waist. Draco’s cheeks heat further, and he looks away. “Do you - do you think that is - do you - do you want that with me?”

Harry blinks at him widely, and apparently takes too long to answer, because Draco tries to pull away.

“I - forget it I shouldn’t - I didn’t mean to freak you out-” He begins, and Harry shakes his head quickly.

“No!” He says. Then, “Yes! I mean - I - you didn’t freak me out, I do want that with you, I just didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t know if that was what you wanted, and-”

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, grinning.

“I want all of that, with you, Draco Malfoy.” He says. “Everything.”

Draco grins, blush deepening. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Harry nods, pulling him closer again. “All of it.”

He kisses him deeply, and Draco melts into his arms.

---------------------------------------------

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FIC: Liminal Grief [2/3]

Rating: T Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Friendship, Grief, Alcoholism, Depression Word Count: 10,613 (total) Summary: The new farmer has a level of equal-opportunity-friendliness that reminds Shane of an old friend, but when the mask comes off, it’s more like looking in a mirror. Also on AO3. Notes: Very much based in the game, but littered with my own headcanons, both for this particular farmer and for Shane. Like other stories in this series, this could be considered standalone, but follows the same farmer (named Lydia) and the same Shane, and shares continuity with those other works.

Part 1 here.

Jas wasn't in her usual spot.

Shane stared at the shady place beneath the big tree by the forest lake. He didn't expect her to materialize, but he hoped, which was a pretty big leap for him. If he hoped hard enough, maybe he could will her into existence. Maybe she was just hiding behind the tree, still mad at him…

He looked, even though he knew what he would see. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing. He gave the upper branches a perfunctory check, just in case she'd suddenly become capable of climbing a tree this big, but there was no sign of her lavender dress, of her green bow.

Shit. She'd been gone an hour already. If he'd known she was upset enough to go running off to a new hiding place, he'd have followed sooner.

At least, he told himself that, that her screechy voice hadn't provoked a headache so powerful that he'd been mostly incapable of stepping out into the sunlight until now. Screechy voices and hangovers were a bad combination.

He was going to have to enlist Marnie's help. Great. Fucking perfect. He didn't know how many more worried, disappointed looks he could endure from his aunt, but he was just going to have to suffer through it somehow. It would almost be better if she would just berate him outright. Almost.

He took his time heading back, hoping he'd find Jas somewhere in the intermittent forest and meadows. She loved the wide open space out here. She could be anywhere.

Anywhere. A hand closed tight around his lungs, squeezing them, cutting off his air. She could be anywhere. She could be hurt. She could be…

But he didn't get much further than that. It was an old fear, well-trod. It had lost its sharp edge, the squeak that had once kept him up at night.

Marnie looked up from the cash register as he came in, face tight with worry. "You didn't find her?"

"No," he snapped. 

Marnie didn't even flinch. "Maybe she'd have gone to Vincent's? I can—"

"No," Shane said, his tone better moderated this time. "No, when she's mad, she always wants to be alone." He didn't know much, but he knew that. In this one way, Jas had always matched him in temperament, rather than her parents.

Slowly, Marnie nodded. "All right, then...maybe...check with Lydia? She's still got a lot of undeveloped space on that farm, and it's nearby."

It was solid logic, but Shane resisted it. The last place he wanted to look was that farm. The last person he wanted to see was Lydia. He'd been in a weird place the night before, and it'd been...fine...having a drink with her, but he didn't want to give her any ideas about staying friendly.

So he'd just have to be extra rude while enlisting her help. Sure. Those two things went together.

"I'll come along," Marnie said, stepping out from behind the register, oblivious to his internal torment. "It's a big piece of land. Three of us searching separately will cover more ground."

"Assuming she wants to help," Shane muttered. It was probably too much to hope that she'd give them the run of her farm and then vanish into town for the afternoon.

"Of course she will. She's a sweet gal."

Shane didn't offer up any commentary on that, any of the words he'd use to describe her instead. Marnie locked up the ranch, and then they took the hard-packed dirt path north, following the old signpost pointing the way to Northern Lights Farm.

Shane vaguely remembered stumbling this way on a drunker night or two. Even wasted, he'd known to turn back. The southern entrance to the farm was overgrown; trees had crowded in, concealing any paths that might once have provided a route to the farmhouse.

Lydia hadn't completely cut back the overgrowth—impossible for one person in a single season to do—but she'd cleared a path, revealing old fences that were battered in some places and entirely broken in others. Nevertheless, the space between them was clear, showing a way through the trees, and Shane and Marnie followed it. In the distance, a dog barked.

"Sounds like Archimedes," Marnie said.

"Weird name for a dog."

"Lydia thought he had a clever face."

He lengthened his stride, even though it didn't help his headache one bit, hoping she'd be too out of breath to talk.

No such luck. Of course a woman who wrangled cows and chickens and sheep most days had the lung capacity to keep talking no matter how fast he walked. "Seemed like you two had a nice time last night."

Small towns. Only one bar, and it was the same bar everyone—including your aunt—went to. Usually Marnie was too busy chatting with Lewis to remark on what company Shane was or was not keeping, but not this time, apparently.

He didn't answer. That seemed safest.

"She seems a little lonely, isolated out here, fresh from the city," Marnie continued. "Bet you two have a lot in common."

There had been similar comments about other people—newcomers and community fixtures alike—over the last few months. Cautious encouragement to get out there, meet people, make friends.

"No," he said, "we don't."

"Shane—"

"Whatever it is, just stop, okay? Focus on finding Jas."

She sighed, low and disappointed, but didn't push further. They emerged from the path into an open field green with growing crops, and a dog rushed to meet them, tail wagging. Marnie leaned down to pat his head as he panted.

Shane saw the straw hat in the middle of the field before it popped up above the bean trellises. Lydia's face split into a wide grin as soon as she saw them. "Hey, neighbors!" she called.

Marnie shot him a look, as if to say, See? He glared back.

Lydia sidled through the trellises and walked over, still beaming, brushing the dirt from her gloves. "What brings you up here?"

"Jas is missing," Shane said, before Marnie could hem and haw about it.

Lydia's face fell. "Oh, no. What can I do to—"

"We need to search your farm," he cut across her.

"Of course," she said, nodding. "Archimedes and I can help—"

"That's not necess—"

"If you think she ran up here, it is," Lydia said grimly. "There's a lot of land I haven't cleared yet, and I don't know what kind of hazards the weeds might be hiding. It'll be faster with three of us looking."

"Fine," he bit out, and before she could argue further, he picked a direction and started walking.

"Be careful!" Marnie called after him.

He ignored her, plunging back into the trees, and searched for any sign of a misbehaving little girl. Any handholds on the trees that might have allowed her to scale them. Any tall reeds around the swampy pond that might conceal her. Any boulders that were the right size for her to hide behind.

The sun moved overhead. He'd been hoarse to start with, but after half an hour of calling for her, he hardly had any voice left. It felt like his blood was pumping too sluggishly through his body, slowing him down. Every time he passed from shade to sunlight, he had to squint against the glare.

A squirrel ran for cover nearby. A woodpecker took flight. Every rustle could have been her dress, every squeak could have been her giggle—but it was just some creature moving through the wilderness, and she was nowhere to be found.

The right thing to do was to keep looking. Keep wading through the tall, prickly grasses that had consumed the southwestern quarter of Lydia's land; keep stubbing his toes on all the rocks and fallen branches hidden within the grass; keep scanning the horizon and then the treeline for any sign of a green bow vibrant against dark hair, a small head bobbing away from him into the woods.

But Shane was tired. Powerfully hungover. Head killing him, sun trying to stab his eyes out, stomach churning, limbs like noodles. They’d been at this an hour. If Jas was on the farm, she was doing a good job of ignoring them entirely, staying quiet and out of sight.

Or she just wasn’t here.

He sank down against the nearest tree, letting the tall grass conceal him up to his neck, and closed his eyes. In the distance, he could still hear Marnie calling for Jas, the fear in her voice blunted a little by an hour of searching.

He’d long since lost that anxiety. Long since stopped peeking into Jas’s room before he turned in for bed, just to make sure she was still breathing. Used to be he could reassure himself that way, even wobbly and drunk, convince himself there was still something left to him, that somehow his best friends lived on through her, a last lifeline, and if he just checked, she would make it through the night.

But it was a stupid ritual. A false sense of security. She would make it, or she wouldn’t, and the universe wouldn’t ask his input on the matter. He couldn’t protect her. He couldn't protect anyone.

A shadow fell over him. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting here, steeped in exhaustion, head throbbing; maybe long enough for the sun to shift, to cast the shadow of another tree over him. He squinted one eye open.

Not another tree. Lydia. He barely repressed a groan.

He expected her to have a hard time hiding her disgust—or maybe reprimand him outright. She’s your goddaughter. How could you just sit here? He welcomed it, even. Give him a chance to snap at her. Really deliver the kind of cutting words that would make her think twice about poking her nose where it didn't belong. 

He wasn’t even sure she knew that Jas was his goddaughter. Marnie called the kid her niece, even though she wasn’t, technically. Maybe Lydia thought they were cousins. Siblings. Maybe it wasn’t immediately obvious how irresponsible he was.

Either way, she looked concerned instead of repulsed. From what he could tell, anyway, backlit as she was by the sun.

“Well, you look like hell,” she said, a statement of fact rather than an admonishment. “Here.”

She leaned down, offering a canteen of water. He considered refusing, but his liver could probably use it. He took it, spun the lid open, and drank, not bothering to thank her. It was fresh and cold. He just hoped she hadn't scooped it out of the pond.

“There’s a treehouse around here somewhere,” Lydia said, shading her eyes and looking west. “Used to love it when I was a kid. Bet if Jas found it, that’s where she is.”

He let his head fall back against the tree, breathing deep. “You remember where it is?”

“Ehhh, sort of.”

He stretched out his arm—a monumental effort—to return the canteen to her. She slipped it back into an outer pocket of her backpack, then offered her hand down, as if to help him up.

“Come on,” she said. Encouragingly. Like that was going to improve his mood. “I think it’s just a little further.”

He didn’t exactly want the help, but he wasn’t sure he could get back to his feet without it, either. Was this section of her farm full of quicksand? Was that the hazard she'd warned them about? It felt like it was pulling him down, convincing him to lie in the tall grass and go to sleep, maybe let it swallow him whole.

He took her hand. It was heavily calloused even under his own rough fingers. A season on the farm really had transformed her from desk jockey to hardy manual laborer.

She heaved, easily setting him on his feet, and nodded when he didn’t immediately fall back down. “Let’s go.”

It occurred to him that she was sacrificing precious daylight hours to help him. That she could be fighting battles against these weeds, clearing more land or watering her existing crops or doing pretty much anything except look for a runaway little girl.

What was she even getting out of this? Would she expect some kind of reward? A gold medal, or just gold, for being neighbor of the year, finder of lost children?

Or was her kindness just inherent and altruistic? Hard to believe the world hadn't crushed it out of her yet. She'd worked at Joja. How had she survived?

“We’ll find her,” she said, like a promise.

His heart softened—a little. Just a little. If the world hadn't crushed the neighborly do-gooder instinct out of her yet, fine. It would. Eventually. But he wasn't going to be the one to do it.

“Sorry,” he said. Grudgingly, but he managed to force the word out. “Bet you didn’t plan to spend your afternoon playing hide-and-seek.”

“I didn’t,” she acknowledged, “but it’s okay. Archimedes!”

A bit of grass several yards away rustled and the blond head of her dog popped up above it, black nose gleaming, snout glistening like he'd recently stuck his face in the pond.

“Find anything?” she asked, for all the world like the dog was going to answer her.

He barked, turned a circle, and went plunging ahead west.

“All right,” she said. “Good as any other direction, probably. There used to be a big rock out here marking the way to the treehouse, but I can’t remember if Granddad broke it up after…”

She trailed off, and despite his determined distance, he found his interest piqued. After she’d stopped visiting? After he’d come back as a ghost to strew hazards all over the farm for his granddaughter to deal with? After the angry creatures in the wilderness reclaimed this part of the farm for their own?

Any seemed likely, coming from her. He remembered her playful hints at magic the night before. But she didn’t finish the sentence, just frowned and continued on, following the rustling grass that indicated her dog’s path.

And he followed her. If he couldn’t do the right thing, he could at least walk in the shadow of someone who would.

"You know," she said, as if she was allergic to silence, "if you want, I could give her a tour of the farm. Show her the places she ought to stay away from. That way, if she runs off again—"

"She won't."

She gave him a sidelong look. "Sure. Kids are totally predictable and obedient that way."

He scowled. "You could put a gate on the entrance by the ranch. Solved."

"Unless you want me to build a ten-foot-high concrete wall, she'd just climb it. And even then...I've seen her and Vincent testing the trees in town. She might still get in. Trust me," she said, and smiled. "I was once seven and precocious."

"Never would've guessed," he said, thick with sarcasm, and she laughed like he'd made a joke.

"Granddad never did get this part of the farm running. He always had plans for it, but he always stopped short. Cleared the path every season, maintained the fences, but kept the woods in the end. It was the first place I'd run off to whenever I was sad, or upset, or had just been scolded." She looked around at the trees as they walked, wistful around the eyes.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes you need to lick your wounds in peace, right?"

"Not that. Why didn't he finish it?"

She glanced at him. "Said he had enough land, enough crops, to handle already." She hesitated, chewing on her lip. "But sometimes he told me that it was the forest spirits' home, so he couldn't cut it down."

"Let me guess," he said, unable to help his skeptical tone. "Those sounds you were talking about?"

"Sure," she said, all good-natured, like his cynicism didn't even touch her. "Why not?"

"Why not," he repeated in a mutter, and then, louder, "so you won't be clearing this, either?"

"Well, I don't really know if Granddad was telling the truth about having his hands full, but I certainly do." She shook her head. "I keep the path clear, and the rest is future Lydia's problem. The one who theoretically has a working sprinkler system."

He snorted. She took a look around again and pointed at a jagged boulder rising above the grass, maybe sixty feet in front of them.

"That's the marker. Okay. If we overshoot it a little and look to the right…"

He saw the evidence of an overgrown path here—a narrower track than the one Lydia had cleared through the forest, marked by old fences. This was just beaten down by, presumably, a history of footsteps. Lydia made her way along it, Archimedes at her side now rather than ahead.

"Aha," she said, quieter now, eyes traveling up a nearby tree trunk. "I think we've found our fugitive."

Shane's heart leaped in relief. He could see the old, partially-rotted handholds nailed up the trunk of the tree, the intact structure among its branches, and the thinnest sliver of a green bow through the window.

"I'll give you two some space," Lydia said, still quiet, and retreated back to the boulder, gesturing for Archimedes to follow; he went, tail wagging.

Despite his skepticism, and some derision—the same kind he felt every time Emily made a comment on his aura, truth be told—he appreciated this. Maybe Lydia was just too blind to see what a fuck-up he was, but even so, she'd given him the benefit of the doubt, the space to handle Jas on his own.

It was like Marnie'd said. She was a sweet gal. Too bad this unruly farm was going to break her of all that.

He considered the hand-holds, decided the risk of breaking a bone was acceptable, and began to climb. By the time he'd gotten halfway up, Jas knew he was coming, but there was no escape, and she wasn't desperate enough or stupid enough to jump out the treehouse window. She watched him with big, wary eyes as he contorted himself through the treehouse floor and settled gingerly on the worn floorboards.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, looking at each other. Shane was out of breath, and didn't know what exactly to say, anyway. Jas huddled in the opposite corner, tearstains on her face, some combination of defiance and guilt in the set of her jaw.

"You scared the sh—" He caught himself just in time. "You really scared me."

Her lip wobbled. He braced himself. "I'm sorry," she said, eyes gleaming again.

He stretched his legs out, enough to tap his shoe against hers. Almost instinctively, it seemed, she tapped back.

She'd still been a baby when he'd taught her to do that.

"Me too." He cleared his throat. "I was a real grouch this morning."

"Me too," she echoed, and rubbed a fist into her watering eyes. "I miss them so much."

How many times was it acceptable to say Me too? It didn't matter, because Shane couldn't get the words out. He patted the floorboards beside him instead, and Jas scrambled over to sit next to him, leaning against his side.

It wasn't sufficient. He was a poor substitute. No substitute at all, really. But he was all she had. Him and Marnie.

Poor kid.

"Don't run off again," he said. "Or at least go places I know."

She sniffed. "I like this treehouse."

He had a sudden, terrifying premonition of further forced interaction with Lydia.

"Look. There's drawings." Jas pointed, and he saw the little carvings in the wall. Your standard initials—L.A.V. in a shaky hand, B.I.V. in a steadier one beneath it—but also pictures. Little round creatures with guileless eyes and thin limbs, painted over in faded colors, sometimes outside the lines.

Forest spirits, probably.

"It's not our property, kiddo," he tried.

"Lydia's really nice. She always says hi to me when she's talking to Miss Penny. She gave me a dandelion once." She turned her tearful face up to Shane. "Maybe she'd let me come over sometimes."

Shane relented. It was hard to tell her no, especially for something so innocuous. He always felt like shit afterward, anyway.

So he'd have to put up with Lydia's sunny attitude once in a while. Whatever. Maybe Jas could get a little bit of happiness out of it. A childhood in the middle of all this horror. He could make some sacrifices on his personal comfort for that.

"We can ask her," he said, making a mental note to also ask her to replace the handholds on the trunk. "Can't believe you climbed all the way up here by yourself."

She grinned. "I'm strong, right?"

"You sure are," he said, and thought, Way stronger than me. "Let's get down from this thing, okay?"

She nodded, wiped at her face again, and hugged him quickly before scrambling past him to begin the descent.

He was an unfeeling asshole these days. The entire world had blended into some kind of dull, vomit-colored blur. But he loved her, even so.

If only it was enough.

He followed her down to the ground only to find her already frolicking with Archimedes, laughing as the dog enthusiastically licked her face. "Oh, he's so soft!" she exclaimed, gently petting the blond head.

Lydia approached from the boulder, smiling. "He likes you," she told Jas. "And he loves hide-and-seek. You gave him a good game."

Jas looked down, shy again. "Sorry I hid on your farm, Miss Lydia."

"No harm done," Lydia said. She cast a questioning look at Shane.

He sighed. "Jas likes your treehouse."

She brightened immediately. "It's a great treehouse. Used to spend a lot of time in it when I was a kid."

Shane nudged Jas. She buried her face in Archimedes' fur—he weathered the hug happily—and then peeked up at Lydia.

"Can I visit sometimes?" she asked, barely audible.

Lydia looked another question at Shane. So respectful, so intent not to overstep the bounds of his terrible guardianship.

He nodded.

"Of course!" Lydia cast a critical eye at the steps. "I'd better replace those steps first, though. Don't want anybody to get hurt."

She really was excruciatingly, painfully nice. He hated it. But he sort of, grudgingly, appreciated it.

"I can help with that," he offered. "We've got spare lumber at the ranch, and if Jas is going to be using it…"

It was fair, he figured. She was doing Jas a good turn. He didn't want to incur any debts. Maybe he could fix up some of those fences for her, too.

"Perfect," Lydia said. "Maybe we can do that next Saturday? Jas can hang out with Archimedes. If you don't have any plans."

Plans. Watching the pizza rolls spin in the microwave, maybe. Downing a few beers when the clock said it was acceptable to do so. Wandering the woods after Jas had gone to bed, coming back after Marnie had gone to sleep.

Jas looked back and forth between them, arms still looped around the dog's neck, some strange hope in her sad little face.

If she wanted to believe he was making a friend, fine. If she wanted to believe things were going to get better, great. He just had to maintain the illusion.

"We're free," he said. "If Jas really wants to hang out with this stinky animal all day."

"He's not stinky," Jas protested. Archimedes licked a broad stripe across her face, as if in thanks, and she giggled again.

Lydia flashed him a subtle thumbs-up. He rolled his eyes. It was one Saturday.

He could still fit in the beer-drinking and woods-wandering if they finished early enough.

Go to Part 3 ->

[michiamotippete]

DARKEST MINDS AU

I  watched the film and I had an idea. It started with “I’m going to write some headcanons”, but then I changed my mind and tried something different.

FOR THE FIRST TIME I’M WRITING A FIC. This is my first attempt ever, so enjoy and let me know what you think! Love ya!

oh yeah and thanks to @lovelyluce for being so soft and kind (she corrected my work)

*******************************************************************************************

She was running. Her legs were burning, her breath caught in her throat. Nonetheless, the only thing she was feeling was fear.

After ten long and painful years, she managed to escape from the camp. She was the only one out of 2000 kids. Eleven years ago, started the great epidemic, that hadn't been a disease. The children started to die out of nowhere: parents cried, doctors hopeless, friends afraid, lovers heartbroken.

Her blonde hair floated behind her, she hoped it won’t get stuck in the branches. She couldn’t slow down, she needed to put distance between the monsters and herself. Today was the day they discovered she wasn’t a green: she was smart and clever, but she wasn’t as clever as the green people. She was an orange. She was rare and dangerous.

She tripped; brown eyes closing during the fall. She stopped at the end of a valley where a river flowed lazily. The moon reflected on the surface, making the eyes of the blonde search for the night sky. She loved the stars; it was something she had had in common with her mother. The last time they studied the night sky was the day before she was sent to the camp.

The disease was announced a year before. Today was her birthday and she was celebrating with her family. She was alive. She was surviving. Even though she was breathing and laughing, her parents couldn’t shake that feeling of losing her. Their friends, their neighbours, all of them had lost their babies. No one knew what meant to be a survivor, but they knew that the government was taking away the kids who hadn’t died. Lucy was in her bed between her parents: Layla, a loving and caring woman, and Jude, a strict but considerate man. Layla was telling her daughter about the stars and the constellations. Lucy had been hanging onto Layla’s words, her eyes sparkling.

-Lucy, it’s time for you to open your present!- Jude had told her with a tender smile on his lips. He handed out to her a small silver box, which Lucy took with excitement.

-Oh, thank you Papa and Mama!- the voice of the little girl was full of emotion. Her parents gifted her with something precious: her mother’s engagement ring. It was a simple ring with a star on the top and her parents had used a chain to make a perfect necklace.

-You are our star, our brightest gift. If something ever happens and you are apart from us, hold that ring and remember that we’ll love till the end of the world!- said Layla caressing the girl’s hair.

Later that night she went into her parents’ room and, after pressing a gentle kiss on her mother’s hand, she said they wouldn't need to worry about her anymore. Her eyes became orange and, in that moment, she saw her parents’ memories of her disappear.

The next morning Lucy wore her new necklace, ready to have breakfast. She'd had an awful nightmare and she was ready to forget it, but little did she know that it hadn't been a dream.

-Papa, can you make me some pancakes?-

The man looked around and when he directed his glance on the little blonde girl, his face became serious.

-What are you doing in my house? Don’t you have any parents?- he said, voice harsh.

Lucy didn’t understand what was going on. She started crying, saying that he was her father, but it was useless. That was the last day in which she saw her dad.

The blonde was now watching the moon in the sky. Silent tears sliding down her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes; it wasn’t the time to think about the past. Now was the time to go home.

After varying miles of running, she was exhausted, but she found a small store. She entered it carefully. The bell of the door rang, and she swore under her breath. “Well, if someone heard that I’m screwed!” she said to herself. The girl found a jumper and some jeans, they were a little tight on her voluptuous body, but they were better that the camp uniform. The jumper was pink and fluffy, perfect for the spring evenings. Her next stop was the bathroom, where she washed her face and watched her reflection in the mirror. She had livid bags under her big brown orbs, her cheeks were a little bit hallowed and her pink lips were sporting a split lip. She breathed out, closing her eyes and relaxing for a minute. She needed to rest; her body was burning from the effort.

She opened the door to search for something to eat, when her gaze encountered a small girl with long blue hair and rubber gloves. At her feet a white tabby cat. The little girl gasped with surprise; eyes wide.

-Hi!- blurted out Lucy. She couldn’t believe it! A kid out of a camp! She wasn’t the only one!

The blue haired girl gasped again and with a quick move, she removed one of the gloves. Near her, there was small coffee machine. Her hand flung over the display; brown eyes now tinted pale blue. Electric shocks were now directed to Lucy, who closed the door of the restroom before  the electricity could catch her. She waited a few moments and flung open the door. The girl was missing. She searched around and caught a glimpse of blue in the distance. She sprinted towards the kid before she could run away. The girl opened the door of a van and entered it with her cat.

Lucy started to knock on the van desperate. -Hey! Please! Let me in! I won’t hurt you; I swear! People are searching for me, please, help me! I can help you too! Please!- she didn’t think she was this desperate until her eyes had laid down upon the tiny figure of a little blue haired girl.

The back door of the van flung open and she beckoned Lucy to climb up. The blonde slung on the floor of the van and mimed the words “Thank you” with her lips, breathless. They heard voices and the little girl used a blanket to hide the blonde. The doors flung open and three people climbed up into the van.

-Hi! Did you find anything interesting in the store, Wendy?- said an authoritative feminine voice.

-Uhm…not really…- told Wendy. Lucy felt something brush on her thighs and she heard some sniffing. The engine came alive and the van started moving.

-Where to, Ice Prick?- said a man’s voice. Not too loud, not too low. Just right.

-Head north Flame brain, when we need to turn, I’m gonna tell you!- said another voice.

-Are you sure? I don’t think you know how to read a map, you’re too dumb!- said the first man.

-Oi! I’m a green, I’m the intelligent one here. You’re the dumb one, Ash for Brains!- said the other one with a grunt.

-Guys!- echoed the voice of the woman -Don’t get started!-

-Yes ma’am!- the men said in unison. Lucy had to bite the inner part of her cheek to stop herself, she didn’t want to get caught because she laughed.

Meow. The thing, now she knew was a cat, started to mewl and touch her face with its paws. Meow. Another set of paws started to touch her back. “Crap!” thought Lucy.

-What’s there buddy?- said the man with the perfect voice.

“Now or never” said the blonde to herself. She sat up and the blanket slipped down on her figure, revealing her face.

-Lucy- everyone, except the little girl, gasped and the van stopped brutally.

-Who are you and what are you doing here?- a knife was now placed near her throat. Harsh brown eyes fixed in her own. Bright red hair was the only thing Lucy could see.

-I’m Lucy. I’ve escaped from a camp and I needed a ride home- said the blonde with breathless words.

-Erza, wait, it’s my fault! She saw me, I ran but she found me! She was desperate, I just wanted to help!- the eyes of the scarlet haired woman searched Wendy. She breathed out and pulled the knife away.

-I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. One wrong move and you will regret it!- Lucy nodded. Fear was flowing through her veins. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

-I’m Natsu- said a pink haired boy with hazel eyes. He was handsome and Lucy could feel her cheeks heating up a bit. “Oh, come on Lucy, you don’t know him!” thought the blonde, slapping herself mentally. Near Natsu sat a raven-haired boy. He had a scowl on his face, much different from the heart-warming grin that was spreading across Natsu’s lips.

-This is Gray- said the pink haired boy pointing a finger to the other guy. Gray nodded, but the scowl remained glued to his expression.

-I’m Erza- the woman took the hand of Lucy and shook it a little -and the little one is Wendy-. When she said the girl’s name, her voice’s tone became a little sweeter. Wendy beamed at the blonde and waved her covered hand at her.

-It’s nice to meet you all!- Lucy smiled at everyone and waved kindly. Her eyes went to Natsu’s face and she swear she saw his cheeks dusted of a fair pink.

-Let’s go then!- he said turning to face the street. -Oh, I almost forgot! The blue one is Happy and the white one is Charle!- said the boy. Lucy was confused, but when she felt something curled on her lap she understood. There was a blue Chartreux sitting comfortably on her thighs. She started petting his head and the little guy started purring.

-I think he likes me!- said Lucy. It was the first time after ten years she was petting an animal. Natsu watched the scene in the rear-view mirror, hypnotized by the small smile on the blonde’s lips. His heart raced in his chest and his cheeks became hotter. He shook his head and resumed focusing on the street. A small smile grazing his lips too.

[juniper-and-lamplight]

Recent Reads - May 19, 2018

Multifandom--Dirk Gently, Sherlock Holmes, Harry Potter, a bit of Star Trek--and a mix of old and new, as usual. I've already recced some of these fics individually, but life's too short not to be effusive about the things you love, so I'm including them here too <3  Recs under the cut...

The Answer to a Question - @a-candle-for-sherlock​ - 22k, T, Holmes/Watson

"These are the stories behind the story we know: what really happened to Watson's marriage, and what made him follow Holmes to Reichenbach; what secrets were hidden in the mountains, and what a dead man wrote to the man he left behind." This fic made me Feel Feelings and also made me (almost) late for work.

To Join These Men in Holy Matrimony - A_Candle_For_Sherlock - 10k, T, Holmes/Watson

"Sherlock Holmes is a contradiction, an enigma, a force; at once the most generous spirit and the most self-contained man I have ever known. I've known more of him, I think, than anyone on earth. Yet for years I'd learned nothing about his boyhood, nor his fears, nor his future hopes, nor his father’s name. I never felt it as a lack until I knew he loved me." A moving story about family, forgiveness, self-acceptance, and historical queer marriages.

The Narrator - candle_beck - 8k, M, Holmes/Watson

"Watson is a degenerate gambler, a reluctant romantic, and the least reliable narrator in the history of the written word." A brief, gritty glimpse of my favorite Victorian disasters.

where the falling angels meet the rising apes - @cosmicoceanfic​ - 26k, T, AU (crossover, Dirk Gently & Discworld)

"A story of Death and the boy who could see him, through the years." In my sadness over finally finishing the Tiffany Aching books, I allowed myself to indulge in Discworld/Dirk Gently fics, and this one was an especially satisfying blend of the two universes. Highlights include Dirk & Bart's friendship, and Farah having a stare-off with Death.

you could bring my healing - cosmicocean - 38k, T, Dirk/Todd, AU (fantasy)

"Where the whole thing takes place in a fantasy world that is not unlike but not quite mostly for legal reasons Ankh-Morpork, Dirk is generally an existential dragon, Todd is a washed up electrical lute player, everyone is kind of awkward and useless except maybe for Amanda, and there is a boatload of fantasy references, plus one (1) Star Wars one." Sheer escapist delight.

Start at the Beginning - @dont-offend-the-bees - 61k, T, Dirk/Todd (AU, fake relationship)

”Y’know, make it up. Pretend to be in a relationship with someone. Can’t be that hard to fake, right?” it was still a stupid idea, but Todd was actually pretty invested in it now. He leaned forward, folding his arms. “C’mon, think about it- you got any other desperate homeless friends?” Takes a wacky ensemble piece and transforms it into a different sort of wacky ensemble piece. Sparing use of fake dating tropes makes this fic all the more enjoyable.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder: A Lovely Sentiment, But Rarely Applies To Anniversary Gifts - DontOffendTheBees - 7k, M, Dirk/Todd

"In which Dirk and Todd celebrate three years together- but forgot they were supposed to be doing that." Featuring: Todd Brotzman's "funhouse of self-loathing," Dirk & Todd's mutual uselessness, Amanda & Farah's mutual exasperation, winks to Douglas Adams canon, and a clever meta twist.

How We Go Together - ekb112 - 3k, E, Kirk/Spock

"'Have you ever been in love, Spock?' A series of moments in Jim and Spock's relationship." I like a semi-annual spot of K/S. It's a classic ship for a reason, and this fic scratched the itch just right.

Easy As Breathing - electricteatime | @kieren-fucking-walker - 1k, G, Dirk/Todd

"Their days start together. Warm and close, but all elbows and knees, tangled in covers and noses buried into hair. It takes time to swim up through the pull of sleep to break the surface, but when they come to they wake up to each other." A lovely soft distillation of a relationship.

Dress You Up in My Love - electricteatime - 3k, T, Dirk/Todd

“'So, what? Your solution is a pair of skin tight leopard print pants? How is that better than anything I’ve worn?'

Dirk just grins wildly at him, it’s the most like himself he’s looked in days. 'Put them on.'” A fluffy missing scene fic with a wonderful sense of interiority. (How is electricteatime is so good at characterization?!?)

A Flame Undamped - Frayach, read by wench_fics - 5k, 40min, M, Harry/Draco

"A happy ending. Because I can finally imagine one." Hurt/comfort doesn't even BEGIN to cover this sequel to The Price We Pay for Wings. No one does pain and poignancy--and sometimes, healing--like Frayach.

Saturn in Retrograde - gooseflesh - WIP series, M, Dirk/Todd

"As with most things in Dirk Gently's life, things are fine until they're not. A mystery and minor inconvenience for Todd Brotzman takes a terrifying turn when Dirk insists on investigating, and it'll take more than a hunch for them to hold onto to all that they've built." I'm not typically an angst gremlin, but I can't stop reading this WIP, even as the characters' situation worsens exponentially.

Death by Kittenshark - howldax - 1k, G, Dirk/Todd

"'You know,' Dirk says sternly, 'if you murder me, there will be nobody around to feed you.'" Cats (even cats who are also sharks) are gonna cat. Charming and fluffy.

i was born in a summer storm (i live there still) - janeseyre - 10k, G, Farah & Todd & Dirk

"Farah confronts the vestiges of her past as she, Dirk, and Todd travel east to visit her mother. It turns out Farah isn’t as over her father’s death as she thought she was." A deeper look into Farah’s families, both biological and chosen; full of lovely little smile moments and Farah getting the closure she deserves.

The Burning Heart - @may-shepard​ - 119k, M, John/Sherlock, AU (post s3 fix-it)

"Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own." As is my habit with zeitgeist-y fics, I didn't get around to this one until well after the rest of the fandom, but I'm glad I did. Here's to an assassin plot that's actually plausible and compelling!

The Easiest Way - nntkiwff - WIP, T, Dirk/Todd, Farah/Todd (“basically OT3”)

"'Is that everything?'

'Yes, essentially,' Dirk says, as Todd is saying, 'I don't have magic powers.'"  A slow burn WIP, set immediately after the return from Wendimoor, featuring multiple perspectives (including Ken!), in-depth characterization, and some excellent lines, like this one about Farah: “She says all of this as though she is ashamed of being cursed, instead of proud that she blew up an evil warlock.”

Blood Magic and Rebirth (or, The One Where They Are All Feminist Academics) - @notcaycepollard​ - 1k, G, gen (Harry Potter)

"Moon cups, Luna thinks. Moon cups and blood magic. And she remembers the old itch under her skin, and a music box fluttering into a flock of birds, and wonders just how powerful it could be." This is 1000% headcanon for me now.

A Little Bit Scandalous - @oneprotagonistshort - 1k, E, Dirk/Todd

"Dirk Gently was self-aware enough to admit that he had… a thing. A quirk. One of those idiosyncratic little peculiarities that made up a tiny part of his personality. A kink. He just liked that extra edge; the need to be quiet or someone might hear, the blood pounding in his ears while he stayed hyper-alert for footsteps, the way Todd kissed him so urgently that he lost his breath." I especially appreciated the characterization behind the kink in this one.

Relative Distance - Quesarasara | @itsnotgonnareaditselfpeople, read by @lockedinjohnlock-podfics - 45k, 5hrs, E, John/Sherlock

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." One of the author's tags on this fic is "What if everyone just acted like a damn adult for a change?", which really clarifies how the fic differs from the later seasons of the show.

it's an institute you can't disparage - @shortcrust - 19k, T, Dirk/Todd

"Todd wakes up beside Dirk Gently four years to the day after having met him realises - abruptly and with categoric certainty - that he wants to do so every day for the rest of his life. What the fuck, he thinks."  Hilarious, insightful, and absolutely nails a) the ridiculousness and pathos of Todd Brotzman mired in needless self-doubt, and b) my favorite Ship Dynamic: compatible disasters.

there's cell reception on this widow's walk - strix_alba - 2k, T, Farah/Tina

"In which Tina sort-of-kind-of asks Farah to stay with her in Bergsberg, and Farah kind-of-sort-of wants to say yes." Awkward flirting, Farina styles! Tina mentally describes Dirk & Todd & Farah as a “bunch of hot, uptight weirdos,” which is p e r f e c t.

Just Like That - @sussexbound (SamanthaLenore) - 8k, E, John/Sherlock

"For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS." The perfect combination of unf and feeeels.

Further fic recs | Fic Bookmarks

[sing-mei]

//Tag dump

[beatricebidelaire]

all the yesterdays i never forgot

pairing: R, The Duchess of Winnipeg / Esmé Squalor (or,  Jacquelyn Scieszka /  Esmé Squalor, since I headcanon Jacquelyn as R)

word count: ~1.1K

summary: There were many things that Esmé remembered about R.

alt: ao3

Here’s what Esme remembered: acting class on a Saturday afternoon, a light scoff behind her following Olaf’s ridiculous speech, the pair of pretty lips the scoff came from, and the moment some dramatic entrance music started playing as Esme turned around to study the face with the soft, pretty lips – figuratively started playing, anyway.

Wait, no – literally started playing. Because apparently Olaf, for whatever reason, decided to accompany his speech with music to showcase his point, whatever it was.  As Esme met the eyes of the girl with blonde curls, all about what Olaf said seemed unimportant.

She was wearing a white summer dress, not super in but with a certain kind of unforgettable elegance.  On her finger was a ring Esme had never seen before, but she’d heard of it and knew which family it belonged to.

“R,” Esme acknowledged, and the Duchess of Winnipeg’s lips curved into an approving smile.

“E,” R replied easily with a nod. Esme was pleased to know that she had enough of a reputation for people to easily recognize her. “The new student Olaf mentioned, I take it.”

The comment washed away her previous pleasure surprisingly fast, and for the first time, she wished that wouldn’t be what she’d be recognized, be remembered as. “Perhaps by the end of tonight,” she ventured slyly, “you might know me as something other than that.”

This was what Esme remembered: a high-profile shop for women’s suits in the city, eager kisses in the fitting room, R looking sharp in a suit.

“We look fabulous.  Like an important financial advisor and her competent secretary.”

“Neither of us are a financial advisor or a secretary.”

“We might be, one day,” a challenging eyebrow raised, a delightful smirk playing across the lips.

“In that case,” a sparkle in the eye, a smooth drawl across two rows of sharp teeth, “perhaps we should roleplay for practice.”

Esme remembered this: cosmetics spread across a desk, the crimson orange of the setting sun shining through the window, R’s frown.

“If you really don’t want to go, I’d love to go own this blind date for you. I’ll order the innest, most expensive dishes and let the man pay,” Esme offered. “And then dump him afterwards.  That would be fun.”

“I’d take you up on the offer, but I think my mother gave the man my picture.”

“Well, then isn’t it just lucky that I’m an excellent actress with superb disguise skills? Let’s get me dressed.” Esme paused. “Of course, we’d have to do the undressing part first.”

“Ah,” R’s frown faded away as a grin replaced it, “one of my favorite parts.”

And then there’s this: getting used to wearing the blonde wig to the dates R’s parents set her up with, and dumping the date after an extravagant dinner.  It worked well, for quite a long time.  And then Jerome happened.

Also: it turned out wigs were just like masks – you wear them for too long, you start to think they’re part of you.

This was what Esme remembered:

“You’ve met rich men before, and you never wanted to marry them!”

“Maybe I’ve changed, have you thought about that? Or maybe he’s even richer than all those other men combined.”

“Or maybe,” R said shrewdly, her eyes furious, almost like fire, Esme thought absentmindedly.  Esme liked fire.  “Maybe this is about Beatrice and the sugar bowl.”

Esme laughed, sharp and dark. “You’ve always been clever. That’s what I like about you.”

The thing about accusations was, they don’t always lead to denial, but they certainly do tend to lead to angry sex.

And Esme remembered this: they met again, because of course.  Even after the breakup, they did tend to run in the same circle.  A circle with an eye insignia hiding three letters.  This time, they were on different sides now.

Or perhaps they’d been on different sides a long time ago, but just never talked about it.

Ironically, now they were actually a financial advisor and a secretary.

“Well, hello, the city’s sixth most important financial advisor,” R greeted her, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  Esme stole a glance at the name plate on her desk.  It read Jacquelyn.

“Hi, secretary for the city’s cough-the-most banker,” Esme shot back.

R –Jacquelyn’s face twisted into a familiar grimace, showing her distaste for her boss.  For a moment, it seemed like nothing ever changed between them, that they were still who they’d been all those years ago.

The moment was gone as quickly as it came.

“How many places have you set on fire recently?” R asked coldly.

Esme took a moment to study her new hairstyle before refocusing back on their conversation. “Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it,” she leant onto the secretary’s desk, half-threateningly, half-invitingly.

R’s lips thinned.  Esme noticed they still looked as pretty as it’d been when they’d first met.

Perhaps some things never really changed.

“Fine,” R said coolly. “But just so you know, I’m only doing this for information, and not for anything else.”

“Of course,” Esme simpered, falsely sweet. She sat onto the desk, crossing her legs with the exact precision designed to catch attention. “Isn’t it what our organization is all about?”

R’s expression didn’t change. “Just one drink,” she reminded Esme simply.

Here’s what Esme remembered: It wasn’t just one drink.  Of course it wasn’t.

She remembered this: lettuce bikini, breaking up with Olaf, Carmelita holding a harpoon gun.  She remembered this: a cocktail party that never took place, a court with three orphans on trial, all those rumors about the sugar bowl flying around.  She remembered this: the chaos that followed as blindfolded people trampled around everywhere.  People crashing into each other everywhere.  Someone shouting about the hotel being on fire.  Someone shouting about how the fire was a lie.

And while life in V.F.D was oftentimes filled with an abundance of lies, it was also filled with an abundance of fire.

She remembered this: trying to move towards the exit when there were too many people going in the same direction, threatening people with her stiletto heels if they didn’t move out of her way, the fire catching up with all of them –

She remembered this: a strong pair of arms pulling her out of the crowds and hooked something onto her, a drop from the fifth floor to the ground, and absolute darkness after that.

Esme opened her eyes to an overly pale-white room that could only be a hospital.

“You’re awake,” said a very, very familiar voice.  She turned slightly, and saw the blonde curls and the soft lips she always remembered.

And she found herself slowly starting to smile.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Ok so I have a joker request if you are taking them. Could you please do a headcanon for Arthur finding his s/o hiding in an alley during the riots cus the apartment got overrun and she had to escape, but when he finds her she is scared of him but tries to hide it. Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.

I changed this up a little, I hope you don’t mind! It’s just what I have in mind is a little different in regards to the reader’s fear.

Okay so we got - swearing, smoking, rioting, moral flexibility (something I have so there’s a tiny bit of self-insert in here woops lmao), blood mentions. All pretty tame but I thought I’d tag them anyway! You never know.

For me, this GIF says one thing: wear your inside on the outside. Also, this poor man didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this, but that’s a separate headcanon set I already wrote and cried over lmaooo.

Quickly did the riots in Gotham City grow out of control.

There were police cars stationed everywhere; window screens bashed in, blood running down car doors as passengers had been killed immediately or knocked out upon impact.

Fires and fireworks, smoke bombs and smoke grenades all made Gotham a blaze of light, of colours and yes, it was pretty and it made you feel oddly happy, giddy, to see such a shitty city burning, but you were also terrified.

Before Arthur had left for his performance on the Murray Show, he had told you to pack two bags: one for him and one for you.

In the event that anything should go wrong, he had said.

You couldn’t have known how right that wrenching in your gut had been when it had told you to run, to run and to never look back.

But you couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to Arthur, and so you had packed both of you a bag each; with your precious possessions and a spare change of clothes, your spare apartment keys and anything else which you could think of.

You had left them by the front door, again as per instructed (you didn’t know where this confidence had come from, but you liked it more than you probably should).

Hours later, when Arthur was a wanted man and you had finished crying out of shock, fear and horror, the apartment building had been overrun as people who had fallen into the trap of mob mentality had taken out their frustrations on innocents.

Really, they were no better than the people they wanted to burn, but who were you to say anything?

So quickly had you grabbed your bags, having somehow successfully fought off the person who had tried to get in through the door, locked the apartment - it would probably be broken into but you hoped that the lock would hold itself - and done something you have should done earlier that day.

You ran.

Literally lost - in the fog, smoke and in the panic of tonight’s events had you gotten quite lost in the city you had been raised in - you had found an old dumpster and huddled behind it for safety, hugging your knees to your chest.

One thought kept you from going completely fucking mad. Just one.

Where was your Arthur?

His name was a soothing mantra in your mind, your eyes roaming about the place. 

All you could see was the back of the grimy bin, the wet and dank wall making your clothes stick to your back.

Later would you feel grossed out by all the bacterium that you were surrounded by.

For, now, though - 

A staggering figure dressed all in red.

A blood red grin from ear to ear.

Whistling that sounded like That’s Life.

“Arthur!” A hush of joy had fled your lips before you could stop it and the figure had stopped, whirled around desperately.

He was looking for you. His one.

He had heard you, somehow, over the utter chaos of the street.

“Y-Y/N?”

You sprang up, your cold joints aching in protest as you made your way over, holding your arms out like a child begging to be held.

It was as accurate a simile as any, in truth.

“Arthur!” You ran to him, your arms immediately throwing themselves around his neck.

“It’s Joker now,” he murmured, his arms coming to hold you tightly.

He kissed your hair, your face, again and again. He smelled of blood, the metallic tang tainting his every kiss. He smelled of greasepaint and a little of sweat, but underneath all of that could you still smell him.

“No,” You shook your head, moved to cup his injured face in your hands. “You’ll always be my Arthur, no matter what the world sees you as.”

A watery smile, a grateful kiss to your forehead.

He knew you would understand.

Green eyes sharpened as Joker realised you weren’t home. “Why did you leave the apartment? You didn’t listen to me! Why does no one listen?”

“I did.” You rushed to defend yourself, cheeks burning. “The apartment - someone got in. I fought them out, somehow, locked the door, and I got scared and I just wanted you, and - “

“Shshsh,” arms around you again as Joker held you protectively to his body, his eyes darting about the streets as he comforted you with quiet shushes.

Joker was hurt - a head injury, the cut on his lip, bruises all over his body, and you - if you were hurt in any way then he really would werewolf and go wild.

You were the only thing he had left to lose.

He had to get you both home.

He saw you had the bags - that was good. He hoped you had packed his contingency plans. 

You had. You were clever enough to put bits and pieces together; a cryptic comment here and there laced throughout your days with Arthur had all formed into a whole tapestry in your mind.

“I’m so scared,” You mumbled, half to yourself and half to Joker.

“Of what?” A sharp question. 

You clutched at him feeling his shoulder blades through his suit. You held onto them, finding comfort in the familiar parts of Arthur that you could reach.

“You.”

The word was out before you could stop it, before you could articulate properly, and Joker froze in your arms.

He went totally still. He stopped breathing. He stopped blinking. Time came grounding to a halt.

A broken whisper.

“You’re scared of me?”

You stepped back, stepped away, seizing both of his hands in yours.

Look at me, your grip told him.

He looked like he was going to be sick as he met your eyes, green swimming with unshed tears.

“I meant to say that I’m scared for you, not of you. Silly man,” You stepped closer again, pressing a kiss to the back of one of his hands, “How could I ever be scared of you?”

Joker’s brow creased as he struggled to understand through the exhaustion of all that had happened this night. 

Finally did he realise what you were trying to say and the sick expression on his painted, bloodied face mutated and turned instead into a smug grin.

So fucking perfect, he thought.

“They won’t find us.”

“Let them try,” You grinned, “They got what they deserve. It’s our turn, don’t you think?”

A joyful laugh.

You closed your eyes, cherished the sound, and when again you opened them did you find Joker closing in on you, to seal your promise with a blood stained, metallic tasting kiss.

Arms came around you, squeezed you into his embrace, and together did you take a few moments more to simply be.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z      @x-avantgarde-x       @insomniabird      @mavalenovaninagavi     @itwasrealenough     @morrisonmercurymalek     @rand0ms-fand0ms     @rafaelina-casillas     @aclownthing      @rebs-doom      @vivft       @help-i-am-obssessed      @autumnaffection       @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99      @misstgrey92  @that-s-life   @dopey-girl-blogs  @seeking-dreamland      @sweetheart-syndrome  @heartxfdesire  @xmusichealsthesoulx  @0callmejude0  @the-one-that-likes-riddles        @hannibalsslut       @folliaght  @freeeshavacadoo  @bingewatchingmylifegoby       @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything     @okamiredfoxx  @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox  @mardema  @jibanyyan  @honeyflvredcoughdrop  @emissarydecksetter  @jokerfleckk  @epidendroideae  @chuuntas  @stillmabel  @pumpkinpeyes  @onehystericalqueenposts  @the-jokers-wolf  @nalsswa  @justahyena  @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch  @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties  @kissmeclownman  @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx  @ladylovelyluna  @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123     @rommie-chan      @arthurflock     @lucyboytom      @anti-peach     @ immortal-bi-bitch@hearthurfleck      @crazieroutthere      @curlystark     @hailmary-yramliah    @sagyunaro     @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain     @jokeringcutio      @xenthefox   @mijachula @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd      @cheyennejonas22    @mrjfleck      @pauli1100     @smitten-susie    @actualkey     @callmejokerfleck   @jaylovesbats    @itsforyoubitch   

[lavalampelfchild]

Does Your Dog Bite?

Alistair blinked. Stared. Quickly counted one more time.

There were three mabari in the camp.

They didn’t have three mabari. There was Momo, and Barkspawn, and that was it. Why were there three mabari?

Momo sat obediently, mouth hanging open, tongue lolling out as though nothing were amiss. Beside him, Barkspawn was barely able to stay seated, excited to resume the exercises and training.

And then… the third dog.

Gazza was snickering beside him. Alistair rounded on her and exclaimed, “That’s not my dog.” She grinned and shrugged.

“I not know him either,” she signed. With the way she was grinning however, Alistair wasn’t so sure. He narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” he declared bluntly. Gazza held up her hands in amused surrender, but she was still. Grinning.

“It is true!”

Alistair turned back to the dog. Observed the thing. It looked like a female, and he hoped that she wasn’t there to… get naughty with Barkspawn or Momo… She had darker coloring than the both of them, which was interesting. She wasn’t any smaller though. Very rarely were mabari sexes different sizes, Alistair knew that at least. And she seemed very… sure of herself. Like she knew she wasn’t the runt of the group.

He knelt down and stared hard at the dog. She stared back. Grinned in that way that only dogs could. Yipped and reached out a paw to Alistair. Alistair held up a warning hand and leveled the dog with a stern glare.

“Alright, fine, you can stay. For today. I don’t know who you are, but so long as you don’t sell us out to the darkspawn, you’re fine in my book.” The dog barked and actually nodded, and Alistair shot her a perplexed look, but recovered quickly and stood to his feet.

“Not a word,” he said to Gazza, still smirking beside him. “Let’s just get to the training. Okay!” He clapped his hands and turned to the dogs. “Barkspawn, Momo!” He paused, wondering what to call the third dog. “…Dog.” The third mabari barked. Alistair sighed in relief. “Over there and line up.” They were doing charges today. A little skirmishing to help Alistair and Gazza practice dealing with animal attacks. The damn blight wolves from the last battle had left an impression.

Barkspawn and Momo went to the area specified. Dog went to stand opposite them. She barked. Alistair shook his head and indicated to the space beside Momo.

“No, no, no, stand over there,” he commanded. Dog barked again and sat where she was. Alistair sighed in frustration. “No. Over there.” Again, Dog barked and didn’t move. Alistair groaned and walked over to where Dog sat. He knelt down in front of her and held his hands out impatiently.

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” he asked, slowing his speech as he spoke, not really bothering to hide his annoyance. Maybe this was more mutt than purebred mabari. She did look like a purebred, and there were no obvious features that Alistair could spot that immediately distinguished the mutts from the purebred, but then what did Alistair know about dog breeds?

Dog barked happily and reached out a paw to bat at Alistair’s face. He yelped and pulled back, pointing a stern finger in her direction. Somewhere behind him, Gazza wasn’t even bothering to hide her chuckles.

“No,” Alistair ordered firmly. “No, we do not boop other people’s noses during training. No.” Dog huffed a bark and nodded in a way that left Alistair under the distinct impression that he was being mocked. His eyes narrowed. “Are you taking any of this seriously–”

Dog barked before he could finish and pushed forward so that her paws rested on Alistair’s shoulders. Instinctively, Alistair reached out to steady the creature, though his glare was still in place. Why did mabari love to interrupt him so much?! At least Momo was polite.

Turning his attention back to Dog, Alistair opened his mouth to speak - this training session was not going very well - when something suddenly shifted. He felt the familiar tingle of magic, and along with it the urge to nullify it, and then suddenly Dog wasn’t a dog anymore.

Dog was Aja.

Alistair froze. His mind stalled. His jaw dropped.

Because yes, that was definitely Aja, right where, a second ago, there had been a mabari. She was sitting on her knees, hands on Alistair’s shoulders, his hands on her waist. And she was grinning too, in that way that made her eyes crinkle and her cheeks bunch.

Alistair stared, mouth agape.

Gazza barked out a laugh and that was what finally startled him out of his haze of confusion.

“What!?” He cried, pushing himself back from Aja, feeling a blush work its way up his cheek. She let him go, some concern mixing with the amusement in her expression.

“Alistair–” she started.

“You were a dog!” Alistair interrupted, almost accusingly, and Aja leaned forward on her knees.

“Yes,” she confirmed. Alistair took a moment to process the whole thing. His eyes went from the real mabari to Aja and then back again. He glared at Aja.

“You were a mabari, and…”

Aja sighed at that, “Oh, Alistair. I shifted. I am a mage, if you’ll remember, and shapeshifting is something that some mages can do.”

Alistair felt a touch indignant at that. “I remember! Excuse me for not thinking every animal I meet is secretly a mage!” For a moment Aja looked uncertain.

“Alistair, it was just–”

“I know, I get it, just a joke, right,” he deadpanned, hands raised in a mock gesture of surrender. “Only I wasn’t aware it was ‘make fun of Alistair’ day.” Aja was looking more and more uncertain so Alistair decided to take pity on her. This was nowhere near the worst prank he’d endured at the hands of his fellow Grey Wardens. And, if he was being perfectly honest, it was pretty clever.

Grinning slightly, Alistair leaned back on his hands. “I would have worn something nice for the occasion. You should have told me.” Aja hesitated and gave Alistair an assessing look. Alistair shot her a wink and she rolled her eyes, tension leaving her shoulders.

“I’m very sorry for hurting your feelings, Alistair,” Aja said, smile growing more confident.

“You should be. They’re very sensitive.” Playing the put upon victim, Alistair heaved a dramatic sigh and dew the back of his hand over his forehead. That was how people swooned, right?

“Poor dear. Shall I let you get back to your training? Will that make you feel better?” Aja asked, amusement clear in her voice.

“It just might,” Alistair conceded, playful reluctance in his voice. “But I might need some of those fancy cakes from the Denerim market too. And maybe a frilly hat.” Aja chuckled. Alistair fought the urge to preen and went on. “But I suppose for today the training will have to do.”

“Well, you’ll be a bit late, but better late than never,” Aja said, looking over Alistair’s shoulder.

“What?” Alistair turned and scanned the field, sagging a bit and letting out a disgruntled “oh” when he saw Gazza going through drills with the mabari. Clearly she’d gotten bored and had decided to start without him. Alistair pouted. “Well that’s just rude.”

Aja snorted and shook her head. “Well you should get to it before she trains Barkspawn to listen to her and not you.” She giggled as though she’d just told the best joke in all of Thedas and it was Alistair’s turn to roll his eyes.

He stood to his feet and offered Aja a hand, shooting her a look of mock suspicion once they were on their feet.

“You’re not going to be sneaking around as a mabari this time, are you?”

Aja held up a hand as though swearing an oath. “On my honor as a Grey Warden, you have my word that there shall be no more… shifty sneaking.” She paused and silently surveyed Alistair for a moment. Her brow scrunched and she bit her lip thoughtfully. Alistair watched her with a wary eye. What exactly was she thinking? He could feel his face going hot under the scrutiny.

He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, Aja’s face turned suddenly mischievous, eyes twinkling, lips curling. And then, in a second it was gone, and her face assumed as serious an expression as she could manage.

“Alistair,” she began, her tone utterly professional. Alistair didn’t trust it. “I hope you have a very productive training session. Make a lot of progress, you know.”

Alistair’s eyes narrowed.

“Thank you…”

Aja nodded firmly. And then took two steps forward and lightly tapped Alistair’s nose before he could stop her.

“Good luck!” she called, turning and jogging away as Alistair gawped after her.

“Did you just–!?”

Did she just boop his nose?

Someone whistled.

Still slightly dazed, Alistair turned and saw Zevran, Leliana, and Tristan grinning at him from across the field. Zevran was giving him a thumbs-up and gesturing with his other hand as though urging Alistair to give chase.

“Some people have all the luck with the women!” He called. Alistair blushed and glared.

“Oh shut up!”

From now on, he was going to be doing closed training sessions.

A/N: …’Zat is not my dog.

I typed this during an eight hour drive back home from a family visit (don’t worry, I wasn’t doing the driving) and my brain is fried.

Regardless, if you have a shifter for a mage, there better be some pranking going on.  For Aja’s part, she honestly kind of stinks at it, but she tries!  She’s no Anders (I headcanon that he was big on the pranking while at the Circle) and she’s much better at getting pranked than doing the pranking herself, but thankfully being around characters like Alistair, Leliana, and Zevran has boosted her confidence a bit.

Also, this is what courting looks like, this is how mages court people, can’t you tell?  Alistair’s being courted right now.

[gusenitsaa]

En Garde

Another deleted scene style fic, around the time of 6x09. Emma hasn't told her family about her visions yet, and decides that fencing lessons from Killian might improve her chances of defeating Gideon.  I’ve written Killian teaching Emma to fence before, fluffily, but it seemed a good time to update the headcanon with the added angst of those visions!  

Read on FF!

There was no time for a moving day; not when every day brought a new disaster, a new story no one was sure if they wanted to see the end of. A single chest of Killian's belongings moved in the first day, set carefully next to a box in her closet, waiting for a quiet moment to be shared. His jackets mingled with hers in the closet, his boots sat neatly underneath the hung leathers and books and papers were gradually filling the empty spaces of their house. Sometimes Killian mentioned something that he would need to get from his ship and within a couple hours it would appear on the kitchen table. He suspected she was testing her magic on his belongings when he was not looking, but it saved him a trip and hopefully calmed her frayed nerves, so he simply thanked her with a kiss on the cheek and filed another hole in a still too empty home.

Two battered sticks joined her boots next to the door, growing more banged up each day as Killian and Henry sparred in the front yard in their spare moments. It warmed her heart to see them spending time together, but from time to time the sight filled her with sudden dread as wooden practice swords were replaced in her mind by sharp steel and unresponsive magic. She fought for her life without a sound, clasping her hand tight to hide her battle from her family no more than a few paces away.

Henry hugged her tight when her eyes were distant and Killian pressed her shaking hand to his lips with questioning eyes. She caught them glancing at each other sometimes, when she told them again that she was fine. They had finally stopped asking with their lips, perhaps hoping she would tell them eventually on her own, but their eyes ever begged her for an explanation that was not forthcoming. She refused to give voice to the whole story, refused to interrupt the happy illusion she had built for herself.

The stick flew from Henry's hand once more and Killian laughed, leaning his own against the steps. "You're doing better, lad. But I've the reach of my arm and a couple hundred years training head start."

"Aren't you supposed to let me win sometimes?" Henry grumbled halfheartedly, diving to retrieve his 'weapon.'

"Never!" Killian insisted. "One of these days you will disarm me. And you will know for certain that it will not be because I let you do so. Now off with you, lad, your mother will end me if you're late for school again." Henry tossed his stick to Killian who caught it as the boy bolted for the bus, grumbling about how between two magical moms, shouldn't he just appear at school?

Killian laughed and gave Henry's pole a practice swing or two as he turned back towards the house, to his surprise he was met with the sudden appearance of a pole aiming for his head. He ducked by impulse, his arm moving before he'd the chance to identify the person on the other end of the attack. Emma grinned at him, blocking his swing with the stick he'd put down a moment ago.

"My turn, pirate. Someone ought to bring you down a peg or two!"

Killian smirked, breaking away and moving to circle her. "You think so? You may have the advantage with firearms and fireworks but swordplay... Swordplay is my strength, love."

"You underestimated me the last time we dueled. Haven't you learned your lesson?"

"I did. But that is not why you won."

"Why did I win, then?" Emma retorted. She grew tired of waiting for Killian to make the first move and dove forward, seeking an opening that was gone as soon as she moved. Suddenly she was on the defense, pressed backwards step by step until her boot smacked against the bottom of their steps. She wavered for a moment and then fell backwards, only saved from a bruised backside by Killian's hook, which had suddenly slipped through her belt loop and tugged her upright again.

"You won because I did not wish to see you die on that lakebed, my dear."

"Okay... maybe I could use a few pointers," she admitted.

"Why the sudden interest in fencing, love?"

"It couldn't hurt to be prepared, right?"

"And you think a few tricks with a blade will make you better prepared?" He reached for her hand, which had begun to tremble.

His eyes were questioning her again and she forced a smile. "I mean why not? Things are crazy, and it doesn't look like they're gonna let up anytime soon And it's an excuse to spend some time together, just the two of us. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Of course, Emma. Perhaps once all this madness with the untold stories is ov- "

"Not after. Now."

"Now?" Her eyes were blazing with determination and he tilted his head to one side, studying her intently,

"Right now!" She held out her hand to him and he took it without question. Their house vanished and the smell of salt brought a smile to his lips. When his vision cleared they were on the deck of the Jolly Roger.

"Right now it is, then." Emma had replaced the wooden stick in her hand with steel and he raised his eyebrows. "I've a better idea." Killian moved to the hatch to his cabin, knocking twice before pulling the hatch open. "Permission to come in?" he called.

Emma heard Belle's voice call something back that must have been affirmation, because Killian pulled the hatch the rest of the way open and dropped inside.

"Oh Emma!" Belle exclaimed, upon seeing her peeking her head into the opening. "I'd been meaning to thank you."

Emma cocked her head to one side, squatting down to get a better look into the cabin. To her surprise she saw that the cabin was now strewn with flowers and old books, with a tea pot steaming cheerfully in the center of the table.

"For what?"

"Excuse us, Lady Belle," Killian interrupted, reaching behind her to a pair of swords hooked to the wall "I just needed to grab these. Emma and I were going to have a bit of a lesson above, will that bother you?"

"Of course not," she said cheerfully, "it's still your ship, Killian."

Belle might have fallen for the distraction, but Emma noticed the pink suddenly at the tips of Killian's ears and a smile spilt her lips. "What were you saying Belle, what did you want to thank me for?"

"Oh, Killian told me about all this that you sent over, you were right, it is really wonderful to have some familiar things around right now when things are so..." The pink in Killian's ears had spread to his cheeks but now Belle noticed it too, though she may have been clued in by Emma's chuckle.

Before she had a chance to say anything Killian was up the ladder and she chuckled, following close behind.

"Killian?" she prodded gently. "Why does Belle think the flowers were my idea?"

"Bloody hell, Swan, leave a man his pride," Killian grumbled, tossing her one of the swords.

She shook her head and turned her attention to the sword in her hand, "So, why is this better than ours?"

"Training blade, sharp enough to cut but only just," he explained. "If I'm to be sparring with you, I'd prefer to not be constantly in fear of doing you grievous harm should you trip on a loose plank." She ran her finger along the edge, which was hardly sharper than a dinner knife. "I was going to move Henry on to them soon. I had them filed down when I taught... well, let's just say they've not seen use in many years."

"These are perfect, Killian," she said with a small smile.

The hatch door popped open behind them and Belle pulled herself up, grumbling about swollen feet as she did so. The red returned to Killian's cheeks instantly as Belle marched her way across the deck toward him. The point of his practice blade hit the deck with a thud as Belle walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

"You're sweet as well as clever, Killian. I can't ever thank you enough for everything you've done for us."

"It's nothing more than you deserve," he replied and Emma grinned, Captain Hook, scourge of the high seas was blushing like a school girl, right to the tips of his ears. With a final squeeze she released him and made her way back to the hatch and Killian glanced back at Emma.

"Not a word to the lad about the flowers," he grumbled, "or your father, not a word to Dave."

"It will be our little secret," she agreed, raising the practice sword to get a feel for its weight. She could feel the beginning of the trembling in her hand and she tightened her grip in response, reminding herself again and again that the hilt in her hand would not be the one to...

"Relax, love." Killian's voice came from behind her, she had been so focused to hiding the tremors that she hadn't even seen him move. "Widen your stance, bring your foot forward to here," he tapped the deck and she glared up at him. "I think I'm a little past fighting stance, Killian."

"Did anyone ever teach you a proper stance?"

"No, I just-"

"Perhaps you can humor an old pirate then? This is the foundation. Coming back into this position should be so second nature you do not think about it. Because there will be no time to think about it." He moved behind her and ran his hand up her arm to where her hand clenched the hilt with an iron grip. "Relax."

" Killian-" Emma grumbled, "if I relax my grip I'm just going to be disarmed."

"That yellow contraption of yours, Emma, do you ever feel the need to get out and push?"

Emma took a deep breath trying to push back down the mounting irritation. She didn't have time for this. "No Killian, but I don't see how-"

"You do not feel the need to push your vessel, only guide it on its way. The blade has one job, and it is far better at doing it then you are. Let it do its job. You simply guide it on its way."

"Did you make Henry sit though all of this before getting to the good stuff?"

Killian's face fell and he took a step back. "What is your hurry, love? I thought you wished to spend this time together?"

Emma shook her head, letting the blade fall as she stepped forward. "I'm sorry. Killian. I just don't think I have time for the wax-on wax-off treatment. I need to practice, I need to-"

"Before what?"

Emma stopped speaking abruptly and glanced down at the deck.

"Emma please. Why won't you tell me what haunts you so?"

"I'm fi-"

"Don't-" His jaw tensed and there was sudden fire in his eyes that dried up the word before it fell from her lips. "Do not lie to me again."

"Killian-"

"Refuse to answer. Tell me to shove off. Do what you will, but do not... lie to me."

"I'm not fine," she admitted, "but I can't... talk about it yet. Can we just practice?"

Killian nodded, moving behind her again and to her surprise gave her a slight nudge forward. She lost her balance and stumbled forward, turning to glare at him as she recovered herself.

"That is why you need a proper stance," he told her, eyes sparkling with amusement.

The clash of metal echoed across the water, rapid clanging and quiet grunts and not a word between them. She wanted to tease him, something about having so many more years of practice than she had. Something flirtatious or... her grunt of frustration was no longer for another successful parry. He fenced like it was no more difficult than breathing, the blade an extension of himself; as much a part of him as his hook. What he had in grace she made up for in sheer frustrated passion, blow after blow pushing him back by sheer force of will rather than finesse.

She'd finally told him of her visions two days ago, and it might as well have turned him to stone. His jaw was tense, his eyes hard. But he didn't say a word. Not one teasing comment... not one smirk on his lips. She lunged forward again. Too slow, or he'd seen it coming. Either way the blow she had anticipated he would block was instead dodged and she dropped her blade to catch herself, the deck of his ship as hard and unyielding as his eyes had become.

He sheathed his blade and offered her a hand and she glared up at him defiantly. "Damn it Killian, say something."

His gaze softened and he cocked his head to one side. "What do you wish to hear?"

"You've been bottling it up for days. Just ... just do it. I don't have time for this passive aggressive-"

"You will have time," Killian cut her off.

"Please, Killian?"

"Have I upset you, love? You wished to practice with a blade and I have obliged you. For hours each day, this is what you wanted is it not?"

"You're mad at me," she pressed, "for refusing the scissors. Aren't you?"

"Whatever course you set, Emma. I am with you."

"Stop... stop telling me that. And just say it. Just tell me you hate it-"

"Of course I bloody hate it!" She had asked for this, prodded him into it but still she jumped when his words rang out loud enough for her to be glad that Belle had left for Granny's. His jaw clenched as he reigned in his temper. "I wish I could beg you to take the easy way. To assure your survival no matter what the cost. But I can't and you won't and I hate it. I hate it." She didn't even bother sheathing her blade, and it dropped to the deck with a clatter as she buried herself in his arms. "But I am with you," he whispered, "whatever the course."

"I keep telling people... Henry, my parents... that I'm going to win," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But if these lessons have taught me anything it's that without control of my magic I'm just... a sub-par fencer. I'm not fast enough, Killian."

"This isn't about swordplay, Emma," Killian said. "Bloody hell, if this was a contest of steel alone it would be my fight, not yours."

"But in my vision-"

"Damn the visions," he interrupted. "Emma, I will practice swordplay with you until we're both raw and weary to the bone if that's what it will take to give you the confidence you need. But when Ashley's life was on the line, it was not an elegant parry that saved her. You took control of your magic when it counted." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, "You will again."

He was right of course, and when she crossed blades with Gideon her grip was a little more relaxed, her stance a little more balanced. And it wasn't what saved her, but she stood a little taller for having crossed blades with Captain Killian Jones.

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