#but hes actually one of the younger wardens who is made to replace his partner's old partner

[sqlmn]

OC RNG stuff.

-Lucinda is engaged to the oldest prince in a family of nine where there are 8 brothers and then the youngest is the only girl. She adores her future husband. -Ink Blot is a really dumb mage who acts as a street performer using fake magic despite being an actual mage. He just wants to be the center of attention. -Ruby and Luce are from the same plot (thank you RNG I love the dream wardens). They're part of different pairs and basically just patrol to keep dreams in check. Ruby and Luce also don't really meet each other in canon. Their routes don't overlap but they both interact with the main duo which is Colette and Marcus. (Ruby wants to beat Marcus up while Luce wants to kiss Marcus for what it matters.)

[meat--grindr]

Hi I saw that your request thingy was open so I was wondering if maybe you can do a headcannon or a small fic of a child reader leaving a cute Valentine's day card for Harry Warden? Just cute fluff?

First of all, let me apologize for how long this has taken. I wish I could say that I’ve been really busy, but in truth, I just haven’t felt like writing these last few days. but we’re back at it now! Secondly, I’m really sorry if this isn’t exactly what you were looking for. I really struggle to write children, so I decided to take this prompt from a more neutral perspective, though it does low-key focus more on Harry. Fluff is also really not my forte, and things get a little dark for a moment, but I promise it’ll turn out fine! I’m really excited about getting to write for Warden though, because I’m actually from the area this film was shot! As such, we only respect the 1981 version in this household! People from the island speak in an…interesting way that I couldn’t help but include in this…so sorry if it sounds a little goofy or makes anything confusing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Harry Warden Receives a Valentine’s Card from a Child

·       The rattling of the thick brass keys against the door and the heavy clunk of the lock clicking open echoed through the near-empty hospital room. With the faintest whisper of white trousers, the orderly, a portly fellow with a ruddy, wind-burnt complexion entered the room. Harry Warden watched him passively from his perch upon the bed, which was already made up neatly. His sleep clothes were folded and ready to be laundered, waiting atop the desk to be picked up by the laundry crew. The orderly caught Harry’s gaze and started violently, “Jumpin’ Jeez-us, Warden!”

·       A second orderly, younger than the first, though cursed with a wicked case of smoker’s cough and a face like a can of worms, poked his head in the room. “'Sgo-in-on in here?”

·       It wasn’t unusual for Harry to rise and ready himself for the day long before the orderlies came around to release him from his room. It was a habit from his mining days he had been unable to break, with only one exception. In the days leading up to the anniversary of the accident and the massacre that had followed, he remained in bed long after he was called. On more than one occasion, he was forcibly removed from beneath the covers after repeatedly refusing to get up and take his medication. During this time, he became moody, despondent, and difficult; prone to outbursts of violence. Especially in the mornings.

·       Yet here he was on the 11th of February, bright eyed and bushy tailed, a pleasant smile on his face at 6:30 A.M. “Bill, Dave. How she goin’ b’ys?”

·       The first orderly, Bill, gaped for a moment, floundering for a response. Dave shouldered into the room, a small paper cup in his hand, saving his partner from his own dumbfounded shock. “Well, yer full of piss and vinegar today, ain’tcha?” He thrust a little paper cup out towards Harry, who took it with a nod of appreciation, downing the three pills inside. They scraped down his dry throat, but he didn’t complain.

·       “I think I’ll spend the morning in the common area, if that’s fine by you.”

·       Dave cast an incredulous glance over his shoulder at Bill. “Like fun, Harry. You know we can’t letcha down there this time of year.”

·       Bill looked Harry up and down, clearly contemplating something for a long moment. “Well, why not?”

·       Dave swung around to face him, apparently forgetting how foolish it was to turn your back on Harry Warden at the best of times. “Because he’s -” Then he stopped. He was going to say, ‘Because he’s in his February mood,’ But that wasn’t true. Warden seemed to be in very good spirits. He wasn’t exhibiting any of the behaviours that would require them to keep him separate from the other patients...so, why couldn’t they?

·       He rolled the idea around in his head for a moment or two, before turning back to Harry. “Alright, but one peep out of you and you’ll be pickin’ yer teeth off the floor with two broken arms, you hear me?”

·       Harry merely nodded, smiling placidly up at him, apparently unperturbed by the threats. Dave couldn’t shake the feeling that the murderous miner was up to something. He swiped a hand across his face, muttering, “Christ, I’m croakin’ for a cigarette,” as he stalked out of the room.

·       Bill motioned for Harry to follow. “I’ll take you down there now.”

·       But as they approached, the door, he thrust one thick arm out, blocking Harry’s path. “Seriously, Warden. Be on your best behaviour. People get jumpy around you this time of year, y'know.” Despite himself, he had grown to like the little man, and seeing his patients treated roughly never sat well with him, though there was little he could do about it.

·       Harry set his jaw, the pleasant expression chased from his face, replaced by an unreadable blankness, though his eyes flashed angrily, his voice was calm. “I know.”

·       Bill held his steely gaze for a long moment, before dropping his arm, and leading Harry through the twisting maze of hospital halls.

---

·       Upon arriving in the common area, Harry Warden settled into an armchair, tucked into the furthest corner. He settled quickly, turning his attention to the others in the room. His eyes passed quickly over the nurses and orderlies who were keeping watch over room – keeping watch over him. He could feel their eyes on him, but he paid them little mind, preferring instead to watch the other inmates as they read, drew, or wandered the room chatting either to one another or no one in particular.

·       The staff eyed him warily, content to leave him alone, but not unsupervised. The patients seemed unconcerned with the sudden appearance of the man, but calm and collected as he may be the nurses were unconvinced the day would pass without incident.

·       Though as the hours passed, one by one, they were distracted with other tasks, drawn into tiny disputes between other patients, or conversations with each other. By the mid-afternoon, they had all but forgotten that he was even there. He had yet to move from his chair in the corner, absorbed now in a game of solitaire he had spread out on the low table before him.

·       He did not look up when two new figures entered the room, hand-in-hand. One was tall, wearing a thick woolen coat and sensible shoes, while the other was very small, bundled tight in a jacket, mittens, and a hat: a mother and her child. Both figures were shivering from the cold and covered in a fine dusting of snow, which quickly began to melt in the warmth of the room.

·       Had he had looked up, Harry would have recognized the woman. She was a nurse, though clearly off the clock as she was without her uniform. He would not have recognized the child – he hadn’t known she had one, not that he cared.

·       Several of the patients exclaimed with delight at the sight of the pair. Unbeknownst to Harry, as he rarely spent any time in the common areas, she would often bring her child in to visit with the more well-behaved residents of the hospital. They usually made their rounds during the holiday seasons, bringing bags of goodies at Halloween and cookies for Christmas.

·       Today the child held a wicker basket in their tiny hands. It was almost too big for them to carry, but they managed to totter over to the nurses’ desk and plop it down on the ground. They began to pull at their mittens, tearing the hat from their head, and wriggling out of their coat.

·       When they were finished, their winter things lying in a sopping pile on the floor, they looked up to their mother for permission to begin distributing their presents.

·       With a fond gleam in her eyes, she nodded, and the child squealed with delight. As their mother bent to pick up the clothes they had discarded, they dug into the basket with both hands, coming out with a little stack of handmade cards. Each one was fringed with white lace trimming, a large red heart, struck through with Cupid’s arrow proudly displayed on the front.

·       One by one, the Valentine’s were placed into patients’ hands with a bright smile and a tight hug. The childish joy that lit up the room as the cards were distributed was such that no one even thought of Harry until it was too late.

·       The child took stock of the room and noticed only one set of hands without a card. They skipped back to the basket and picked out the final card. With the thick pink paper clutched in their hands, they approached the man in the corner.

·       It was one of the nurses who spotted the child, mere footsteps away from Harry Warden, Valentine in hand. If there was one man on Earth that child should not have been alone with in that moment, it was Harry Warden. She gasped, hands flying up to her mouth.

·       The child’s mother, along with the other staff members turned to see the child reaching out, extending the card toward the Miner, the Valentine’s Killer, and she nearly screamed. Before she was even aware of what she was doing, she was moving, rushing toward her child, terror coursing through her, sharp and icy-cold.

·       Looking up from his game, the pink card filled his vision. The red heart seemed to pulse as though it was alive, and a high-pitched ringing filled his ears. His breathing quickened, as his lungs began to feel thicker, full of dust, like they had been when the mine collapsed on top of him.

·       For a moment, Harry Warden’s vision went red, and rage built like steam in his chest. Lord Thunderin’ Frig…

·       His fingers curled into a fist, longing for his pickaxe, knuckles cracking as he did so. The child remained blissfully ignorant of the danger they were in. They giggled, thrusting the card out toward him, “Here, Mister!”

·       Their voice cut through the fog gathering in his mind, and he shook his head, looking down at the child in bewilderment.

·       “Take it! Taaake it! I made it special juss’ f’r youuu!”

·       Doing as he was told, almost without thinking, he reached out and took the card. His hands shook as he opened it and read the little poem inside, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you! Happy Valentine's Day!'

·       The writing was neat and precise, clearly the work of an adult, but the child had signed it in shaky, messy scribbles near the bottom right corner. It was completely illegible, but it made Harry smile, nonetheless.

·       He raised his hand and ruffled the child’s hair just as their mother, followed closely behind by the nurses and orderlies arrived to apprehend him, “Thank you, kiddo.”

·       Their mother quickly placed herself between her child and Harry, her chest rising and falling heavily. Two spots of livid colour stood out high on her cheekbones.

·       Harry held his hands up in an attempt to placate the frantic woman. “No harm done.”

·       She looked unconvinced and began to shoo her child back towards the nurses’ desk, eager to put some space between the unlikely friends. “I think it’s time we get going. Say 'goodbye' to everyone.”

·       “But Momma! I didn’t get my hug!”

·       “That’s okay, sweetheart. Mr. Warden doesn’t like hugs.” She shot him a dark look over her shoulder, and Harry said nothing in return. He did, however, keep his eyes trained on the child as they said their goodbyes and their mother fussed over them. When coats had been rebuttoned and mittens placed back on tiny hands, the child turned back to Harry and waved.

·       He smiled and waved back.

·       The orderlies and nurses still hovered nearby, completely floored by what they had just witnessed and unsure of what to do next. All eyes remained trained on Harry Warden.

·       He stood, reading the card once more before pocketing it.

·       One of the nurses found her voice: “You…uh…gave us quite the scare, Harry.”

·       “Ah, the kid didn’t mean no harm. Anyway, it’s the dance I can’t fuckin’ stand,” he paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the new-found treasure in his pocket, “I’d like to go back to my room now. I want to hang this on my wall.”