#grimy rat (affectionate)

[marimosalad]

King of Mordor the Southlands ™️

This drawing was totally inspired by the tweet below 🤣

Charlie Vickers plays the perfect combination of disheveled and regal it’s incredible how they found him lol. I will forever be grateful to RoP for giving us discount Aragorn as Sauron 🫠

[minniiaa]

(long ass post just me rambling about a new lawlu fic idea. t/w for discussion of addiction and sui attempt. feel free to keep on scrolling.)

Writing a new modern au about Law becoming an addict after Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo died in an accident coming to pick him up. It's inevitably going to be a healing LuLaw story, Luffy finding him in his apartment by sheer luck after he decided to end his life on the one-year anniversary of their deaths. Luffy is in his hospital room when he wakes up, a cute stranger who he discovers is his neighbor and also a firefighter. Luffy declares that he's going to be his friend which makes no sense to Law, why would a guy like him with such a good life want to be friends with a pathetic junkie freak who just tried to off himself? What he doesn't know is that Luffy knows what it's like to lose the most important people to you, to feel so alone and not know how you're going to go on. Only Luffy did go on. He built a new family for himself, a home, and a life where he could be happy and he wants Law to do the same.

The first chapter was one of the darker, more emotional things I've written, detailing Law's relationship with death and how he is convinced everyone he ever cares for will die because they all have died. He falls into despair and tries to die once but can't go through with it. He turns to alcohol, finding that it numbed the voices in his head that screamed at him every waking moment. So the decline begins, Law becoming a street rat alcoholic who goes to grimy bars, going home with any guy whose willing to fuck him until it hurts, the pain overwhelming everything in his head. Alcohol turns to club drugs which turn to opiates and he's just a shell of a human at this point.

I think there's beauty in the rise from your lowest low to your highest high (not a drug high, just happiness). Law needs a reason to stay. Luffy becomes that reason, someone who understands him, who he almost hates in a way because he was able to pull himself out of the trenches when Law couldn't. Law decides to get clean once he wakes up in the hospital, deciding to give life one last try before he calls it quits for good. Luffy declares he's going to be there for him every step of the way and after some thought, Law lets him only because he knows can't be alone anymore. He'll use Luffy as a crutch he clearly needs until he's fulfilled his purpose, and then he'll just dispose of him.

He's shocked to find that Luffy is just a good person, unlike anyone he's ever encountered. Sure, he's pretty brutally honest, almost chastising Law for not even trying to move on but he's totally right, Law never did try, he just gave up. He has this way of somehow just knowing how Law is feeling even without him saying a word. He brings him gifts in few days he's in the hospital, cleans his apartment that had fallen into an absolute shit hole while Law was an addict, and when Law comes home he basically just moves in even though he only lives down the hall. He doesn't want Law to be alone, to fall back into his addiction. He introduces him to his friends and is active in his treatment even going to his first NA meeting with him so he doesn't have to go by himself.

He's exactly Law's type and he's maddeningly charming, openly affectionate and flirtatious right off the bat which just confuses Law. He convinces himself that it's just the kind of person Luffy is, some people are just like that but there's no way he's actually attracted to him... right? He's still down horrendous for him from the very start though, and Luffy doesn't make this any better, sending him shirtless pictures of him and little flirty messages like 'wish you were here ;)'. (Law's a degen and Luffy is totally aware of what he's doing but he just likes Law and wants him to know it).

Their strange friendship grows and evolves while Law deals with the harsh reality of what it means for him to be sober. One day Luffy kisses him, things get intense and Law is fucking TERRIFIED. He can't care about someone again, can't watch them die like everyone else and know it's all his fault. He pushes Luffy away but he won't go. He loves Law and he's going to do anything it takes to make sure Law accepts that fucking love. He does, of course. He's wanted this from the beginning but he was just too scared of what it would mean to love someone for the first time, to admit it aloud. Law overcomes his addiction, begins to process his losses, and Luffy becomes his Reason to Stay.

(If you don't care about my personal shit feel free to stop here and enjoy this random summary headcanon thing I unintentionally wrote. This is just this week's episode of me oversharing but maybe it'll help someone who has been in similar situations idk.) I decided to write this story for purely personal reasons. About 7 years ago the person I was dating was an addict and although I did everything I could to try and get them the help they desperately needed after I saved them from overdosing the first time, but it wasn't enough and they ended up dying a few months later. I was also doing various drugs at the time, though only recreationally, and was thankfully able to stop after seeing what it did to the people around me. However, this death fucked me up and I blamed myself to the point it drove me to become an alcoholic just to help cope with the pain. Things are much better now and it took many years but I've finally been able to process everything. Writing is therapeutic for me and I always wanted to write a story about addiction and loss but I wasn't sure how it would do it. I guess I found it now?

At the end of the day, I wasn't enough of a reason for that person to stay but what if there was a world where someone was? I wanted to explore that concept with my favorite ship and somehow this beast was created in my fucked up little head. I'm looking forward to the very fulfilling and heart-warming journey of Law healing and falling in love with our favorite loyal puppy dog Luffy :)

[helenvader]

I would like to make another RoP video and I need your help!

It would start with "I have been awake since before the breaking of the first silence. In that time, I have had many names."

And continue with all the monikers we use for Halbrand/Sauron in tags.

Like, #my little meow meow, #grimy rat (affectionate), #stupid sexy sauron, #noodleman, #just a middle-earth dude, etc.

For this noble purpose I would like to collect all the common ones, and I need your help because my brain might forget some super-important ones, and how tragic that would be. :-)

And that where you lovely peeps come in. :-)

I'm tagging @ichabodjane, @starlady66, @somebirdortheother, but this "call for interest" is open for all! 🙃

No idea when I will make the video, but I will make it. Hopefully sooner than later.

[brynnmclean]

I feel like I should apologize for the way I’ve been raiding your Halbrand tag but I finally started watching Rings of Power and my brain is like ‼️ about him (and Galadriel) and you have the GOOD STUFF!

Do NOT apologize!!!! 😂 The two of them make me absolutely unhinged so I am delighted that you are also enjoying them -- especially my grimy rat bastard (deeply affectionate) Halbrand. 💜 I finally started writing Silmarillion fic because of him!

[moonogre]

Hello T! I would like to write to you with good news, if I can remain coherent enough.

It’s another absurd summer Friday in Montreal. My cousin J touches down for the first time in the city after the sky bursts open with the heaviest showers from the season. When I see J at the bus terminal I burst into tears, which I am prone to doing when I am often overcome with positive emotions. We swap tales: J tells me about an eight hour pedestrian lay over in New York City that is a skin crawling fever dream of grimy labrynthian metros, super sized rats, and escape routes predicated on the kindness of random strangers. They had also narrowly avoided some manner of altercation at Jamaica Station involving panhandlers and cocaine. My story is that I hadn’t finished tidying the apartment for their arrival because a last minute first date had devolved into a tousled half day of bed pleasures. My latest lover had left and came back and I had mostly tried to flirt my way past the strange things I revealed about myself over sweet cocktails and hand rolled pasta in my neighbourhood watering hole: how I had moved around a lot as a child, how my family had succumbed to the strange collective hypnosis of a religious order, how they had came focus on my quirks to an abusive extent, how my mother had hit me for the umpteenth and final time before I had pushed her down the stairs, and how all that business had come to an end only after that. We had laughed and I tried to assure her that I’m more sweet than creepy and it works despite my knife collection, shibari paintings and preserved organ specimens.

B picks up J and I and we go to a place where we can drink cocktails from a golden swan. We holler and laugh over mounting absurdities: are we meant to dress in leather for a fetish party we had been invited to tomorrow? Is B having another threesome— his second in a fortnight— with a charming gentleman that looked the splitting image of Mac DeMarco? We drink tequila in B’s jeep which has been affectionately termed the “car bar” for the evening. We go to another location: a basement speakeasy filled with smoke and hot with all the dancers sweating it out to disco. Our bartender looks like a runway model and makes us drinks: B has a Rusty Prick, J has an Apple a Day and I ask for “a fruity cocktail that is perfect for a basic bitch,” which turns out to be something sweet and delicious. We dance and are joined by a gaggle of girls, and one makes eyes at me and tells me that we should twerk together all night and make men buy us drinks. I laugh and my phone is dead, as per usual, and I cannot take her number; which is a shame because of our escalating flirtations. Her friends take J and B and I to another hidden bar within the speakeasy that is a tiny affair and there are hundreds of eucalyptus bundles handing from the ceiling. We are five rounds of tequila shots deep when we decide that it’s time to call it a night: during our hasty exit we run into B’s threesome prospects and I bend over cackling from the enjoyable stupidity of the night. We can’t leave now, so we go back in and I tell B that I am here to babysit this threesome into existence. There is a man break dancing and waving around a cane. Another man moved to me on the dance floor and holds me in his arms and whispers that he thinks I am the one for him and that I won’t ever break his heart and I laugh and agree despite knowing that none of these things are true: this is a ploy to get me, J, B and B’s potential bedfellows free alcohol. I am a lesbian and have no intention on remembering anything about this man past my letter to you. B sees this all unfold and laughs at me from across the room, and rescues me when my dance partner becomes too insistent in his necking, which may have been fine had I been awarded with the drinks I had asked for. But they never came.

B makes good progress getting to know the folks for the ménage-a-tois. J and I stumble back outside and I insist we retire for the evening. I abandon B to his machinations. J and I cackle the whole way home.

We miss you. We love you. We are happy! We promise 🥰

[heliads]

Heartbeats (Part Two)

Based on this request: “Jesper x reader where she was in the first army and grew up with mal and Alina, but then when stuff goes down in the fold she ends up in ketterdam (maybe she’s grisha too) and teams up with the crows but her and Jesper end up falling for each other?”

part one / masterlist

As much as you’d like to avoid it, though, the battle on the sand skiff rages on. In the end, despite all of your complaints about Kerch sharpshooters and their unusually quick wits, there’s nothing you can do about the present situation except fight your way out of it. You’ve been a soldier for a long time now, a tracker and a fighter through the First Army. This isn’t your first brawl, and it likely won’t be your last.

It is, however, your first one where you’re actively attacking the grotesque flying monsters known affectionately as volcra. There are also several Grisha on board, and despite your silent protests, you can hear your power almost calling out to them, as if it can recognize those of its own kind. You try to reel it back in, collect it and calm it and force it away, but in a life and death situation like this, your control is weak. If you used it now, you could probably save yourself. The only issue is that by revealing yourself, you might damn yourself to a worse fate than a quick death at the claws of a volcra.

So, you ignore the thrum of heartbeats echoing out around you, electing instead to fire your pistols again and again. You’re not the only shooter here- Jesper Fahey is at your back, the two of you surrounded by a cloud of smoke issuing from the barrels of your respective guns. You could almost fool yourself into thinking that you might make a good team. Clearly, the stress of the battle is getting to you.

Then, just when you’re sure that you’re going to make it out of here alive, you slip up. You took too long in taking down a volcra and forgot about the Darkling’s oprichniki guards still on board the ship. You sense them before you see them, and whip around to see one seconds away from shooting you full of bullets. Your own arm rises involuntarily, as if pulling the string of a marionette. The oprichnik’s body rises in turn, his face turning ashy as his heart is yanked apart under your watch.

The moment is over almost as quickly as it happens. The guard’s body slams to the ground beneath him, head lolling. He’s dead, no question of that. What have you done now? You quickly force your hand back to your side, pretending as if you’d shot the guard and nothing more. Alina and Mal are still busy with the Darkling on the other side of the skiff, so you think you’ve managed to keep your secret intact for a little longer. Saints, you’d sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t let this happen. Grisha are constantly on the run for their lives, and you can only imagine that it will get worse now that word of the Darkling’s treachery has come out. You can’t afford for this to happen.

When you look up, though, you’re met with a pair of eyes. Jesper Fahey watches you from his place a few paces away from you. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s seen everything, that he knows exactly what you are. Strangely enough, though, he doesn’t seem angry or surprised or even afraid. Instead, he just looks understanding, like he knows exactly what you’re going through. He nods his head once, a sharp motion, then moves away again.

You try to redirect your attention back to the fight at hand, but your thoughts keep straying to that one moment over and over again. What will Jesper do with this information? He’s used to being a canal rat running the streets of the Barrel, where any piece of knowledge should be taken and sold to the highest bidder. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll tell somebody- why would he ever keep your secret? 

However, he gives you no suspicious looks, and when you and your friends finally make it out of the Shadow Fold and into the dim gray sunlight of the ruins of Novokribirsk, he simply walks over to stand with his own group once again. He doesn’t say a word to Alina or Mal or anyone else. 

Your stomach is still in knots over the potential of your secret being revealed, and you find that you can’t sit quietly, even when you’re exhausted from the fight on board the sand skiff. Instead, there’s a strange buzzing in your chest, as if you could run a hundred miles and never tire. It occurs to you that this might be because you finally used your Grisha abilities and didn’t keep them tied up for once. Regardless, you can’t be content with a place by Alina and Mal in the long and broken grass, so you stand up, walking to pace back and forth overlooking the ruins of the city.

To your surprise, you’re soon joined by Jesper. He walks with you for a few yards, then turns back to you. “Why do you keep the fact that you’re a Grisha a secret?” Your feet stall in place, and you quickly check around you to make sure that no one can hear the conversation. Alina and Mal are a ways away, so they probably won’t be able to tell what you’re saying, but you can never be too sure.

“It means I can stay with them. It means that my friends don’t look at me like I’m an enemy, one of the Darkling’s men. They don’t trust Heartrenders that well. I cannot have them think that of me.” Jesper nods, but doesn’t speak. You glance over at him. “Aren’t you going to do something? Make a joke about how I’m too afraid of my friends?” He shrugs. “You’re not the only one with secrets to keep.”

Before you can think more on this and what the seemingly open Jesper Fahey could possibly have to hide, he’s turning his attention back towards the ruins of Novokribirsk below you. At the sight of it, the wind drifting through clouds of smoke and dust, he whistles softly, the low note hanging in the silent air. “Are you looking for anyone down there?” You shake your head. “I have no one anywhere.” Jesper regards you for a moment longer, a strange look in his eyes, then turns and walks back to his Kerch friends without another word.

As you watch, he speaks to them in low voices. Although you cannot make out a single word, you swear that their gazes lock on you several times. Later, after everyone has had time to recover and start to think about moving forward, Jesper’s friend Kaz steps forward. “We’ll be heading back to Ketterdam soon. You should either run or find a place to hide. They’ll be looking for you soon enough.” Alina nods, giving Mal’s hand a comforting squeeze. “We plan on going to Novyi Zem.”

It hurts you a little, this quiet intimacy. They’ve clearly discussed this, although you weren’t in on their plans. You’ve known that it would be like this for a while, that the two of them would always need each other a little more than you. Truth be told, you’re largely alright with it, although it does sting a little to know that you will forever be on the outside of their happy pairing.

Kaz now turns to you. “If they’re going to Novyi Zem, where does that leave you? We have a position in our ranks, if you’re interested in taking it. You appear to have a skill set that we could use, and it would probably be best for your Sun Summoner if you split up into smaller groups.” You look between him and Jesper, who appears to be doing his best to remain nonchalant. Was this what they had been talking about- offering you a job?

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you step forward. “I’ll go with you to Ketterdam.” Alina stares at you. “Really?” You nod, clasping her hands. “I’ll miss you, Alina. You too, Mal. But he’s right- you too need your best chance at staying hidden from him if he comes looking. It’ll be safest if we split up. Besides,” you try for a laugh, “I’d probably get really bored in Novyi Zem anyways.” You might just be kidding yourself, but you swear that Jesper’s looking at you with an honest smile now.

This is how you end up boarding a ship to Kerch, how you end up saying goodbye to Alina and Mal with tearful hugs and farewell waves, how you end up staring with a smile at the cobblestoned streets and grimy alleys of Ketterdam. Jesper laughs at your awestruck expression. “It’s just the Barrel, darling, not the Grand Palace. No need to drop your jaw quite so low.” He dodges out of the way when you try to hit him, unfortunately. “Compared to the endless hills in Ravka, I’d say it’s pretty good.” If you didn’t know better, you’d swear that Jesper’s smile looks almost proud now.

Ketterdam is surprisingly good. Sure, you’re on the run for your life practically all of the time, whether it’s because of Kaz’s mad schemes or because some gang boss or another has decided that they’ve got it out for you, but you’d be lying to say that you didn’t do it all with a smile on your face. You might be risking your life all of the time, but at least you feel like you actually have a life to risk now, instead of just another place as just another tracker in the First Army.

You also spend a lot more time with Jesper. At first, you had rolled your eyes and questioned your Saints as to why they seemed determined to damn you with one of the most insufferable sharpshooters known to man, but in all honesty, he’s starting to grow on you. It’s just the way that the two of you get to have neverending competitions to see who can shoot the farthest and the best and the quickest, who can come up with the wittiest retort or steal the best object from a store in the least amount of time possible. It’s just that he seems to click with you in every way. Maybe a life as his rival was something you’ve been waiting on for a long time.

You keep waiting for the shoe to drop, for him to reveal to Kaz or Inej or any one of the numerous information seekers in the Barrel that you’re a Grisha. He never does, though. Instead, he waits for you late at night, when everyone else is asleep, and lets you practice your gifts on him. At first, you’re just monitoring his heart rate and trying to sense where he is in the room with your eyes closed, then you’re carefully adjusting his consciousness and the flow of his blood through his veins. It’s nothing major, certainly not enough to hurt him, but it’s practice nonetheless, and you always walk out of each session with a smile, skin practically glowing with exertion and the thrill of using your powers.

The first time he’d dropped by your room, offering such a thing, you’d practically laughed in his face. “Sure, you want me to Heartrend you. Aren’t you worried that I’m going to mess something up and kill you?” He’d just given you one of his textbook smirks. “If I was worried about you stopping my heart, love, it happened the first time I saw you. Plus, ‘Heartrend’ isn’t a verb.” You’d had no troubles with helping him into unconsciousness after that.

Now, when you sit across from him, both of you cross-legged on your bed with your hands on his wrist to sense his pulse, you can’t help but wonder why he’s there. Jesper, as if sensing that there’s some deliberation going on in the head of someone also trying their best not to kill him, tilts his head to the side questioningly. “What’s wrong?” You shrug. “Nothing. I just don’t know why you’re doing all of this. I mean, you could have turned me in at any point, but instead you’re here, letting me mess around with your heartbeat. Why go all this way?”

Jesper leans back against the wall, considering this. “You’re not the only one who wants to hide their Grisha heritage, Y/N. If one of us can have at least a little time to use their gifts, I’d want you to have it.” You can sense that there’s something in his words when he mentions his Grisha heritage, that even if he’s brought it up he doesn’t quite want to talk about it. So, you focus instead on the second part of what he’d said, the part about his attention to you.

“Why, though? What’s worth it about some orphan from Ravka?” He chuckles now. “Y/N, if I thought for a second you were just an orphan from Ravka, I’d pawn off my revolvers to the next person to walk through the door. Not everything has to be for an angle. Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you.” For a second, you almost think that your focus lessened, that you messed something up with your gifts. There’s no reason why his pulse would seem to jump as he said that, why his heart rate always seems to increase whenever he looks at you as he looks at you now.

You decide to take a chance. “I want to spend time with you too, Jesper. Even if I didn’t have Grisha abilities to hone.” His smile is genuine this time. “I’m glad to hear it.” Jesper’s hand slips slightly in yours, moving your fingers away from his wrist so he can link them around his. When he looks back at you, his eyes hold an unspoken question. You nod. An instant later, he’s kissing you, hand slipping from yours to guide you closer to him. You can’t seem to sense anything except an overwhelming rush that might be his heartbeat or yours or everyone in this entire Saintsforsaken city. To be honest, you’re fairly sure that you’d be fine with questioning it until the day your own pulse runs out.

grishaverse tag list: <3 @underc0vercryptid​, @darlinggbrekker, @cameronsails​, @aleksanderwh0r3​, @story-scribbler​

[foxilayde]

For the ask thing:

Blue

Cecil

Jack

*drops the blorbos and runs* 🧡

Luna! Tysm for the ask, I love this combo.

Husband: Cecil without a doubt. He's domestic in the way a dog is domestic. Cuddly, affectionate, effusive tail wagging compliments. He's also a bit of a dog in the derogatory sense, and he's not too bright.... but he's a better option than Jack and Orderly Blue for a life partner. He also would be a really fun dad and gives lots of piggyback rides (yes with a beer in his hand, but he's LEARNING) Plus the date nights at Applebees are low-key fire. $1 Margaritas? That has Cecil written all over it.

One Night Stand: I'm not ashamed to admit that its gotta be John "Jack" Jackson. This boi learned some tricks out in the desert I'm sure of it. It's going to be grimy and gritty. Literally. All that sand? Definitely an unforgettable experience. And afterward he can play a Jack Original on his 'gee-tarra'

Best Friend: Orderly Blue. The way this blorbo has transmogrified in my mind... Orderly Blue has become nothing more than a Hot-Pocket-loving comedic relief character complete with his pet rat Gunther, and a summer-job at the Haunted Mansion ride. Best friend for sure. He's weird and he's gross and he creeps the whole family out but he's oddly sensitive too. Always good for a movie marathon or to set something on fire.

TYSM for the ask, that was fun!

[phis-corner]

Can you do 22 and 75 with yoir ship of choice please?

22- “This isn’t goodbye.” 75- “What did you expect?” 

Platonic Jasonette because I’m a sucker for those sibling fics.

“This isn’t goodbye.” He whispers, her brother not in legal documents, but in every way that matters.

“I’ll see you again.” He says, ruffling her hair affectionately, just like he always did, before handing her the same package he gives her every week- food, money, and this time, a large hoodie too, because it is getting cold out and winter on the streets is hard.

She smiles and waves as he leaves the alley to find his real mother, knowing he will come back from Ethiopia, because he always comes back. He said he would see her again, and he always keeps his word.

The next week, he isn’t there.

She’s fine with that, really, she is. She had survived on the streets long before he started giving her those packages, she’d be fine.

She had forgotten that before those packages, she had him on the streets with her, that they would huddle together in the winter for added heat and team up to scavenge for food and supplies, because they always got more when working together. 

It gets colder, and he hasn’t returned. She starts to get worried, but he alway comes back, she tells herself. He always comes back.

She clings to that hope like a lifeline.

Then, one day, two weeks after his disappearance, she finds a newspaper in the trash proclaiming his death.

And Marinette mourns Jason Peter Todd-Wayne on the floor of a grimy alley in the heart of the Bowery, hands tugging at the strings of his red hoodie.

She gets sloppy, and gets adopted as a result.

Suddenly, she’s in Paris, France, with a last name and a room above a bakery and… magical earrings that turn her into a superheroine.

Alright. Alright, she can deal with that.

Hawkmoth is defeated with time, she’s been in Paris for years, and then she is invited to join the Teen Titans, of all things. 

She accepts, and moves into a ridiculous building shaped like a T. The couple who adopted her have no idea, of course.

She was always good at leaving without a trace.

But here, back in America, the memories are worse, and as a result, the nightmares are too.

She wakes up at least five times a week screaming for her older brother as the Joker beats him to death, her imagination filling in what that newspaper clipping couldn’t.

She spends those sleepless nights in the kitchen, baking, so that the others can at least wake up to wonderful treats.

On one of these nights, something is off, and she knows it the same way a street rat from Gotham knows when to stay, and when to run.

Tikki whispers that there’s someone in the hallway just outside the kitchen, waiting to ambush her. Transforming is out of the question- it is too bright, too loud, and more importantly, the intruder would be expecting it.

So she grabs her rolling pin, the nearest object, and spins to block the gloved fist centimeters away from her head, staring defiantly up into a red helmet with emotionless white lenses, which widen.

“Mari?”

Even through the audio filter, the voice is so familiar, the perfect tone, the Crime Alley accent, everything.

There was only one person who sounded like that, and he’s dead.

Or so she thought.

“Jay?” She asks tentatively, still gripping her rolling pin hard enough that her knuckles are bone white. Just in case, she tells herself.

The man reaches up and clicks something, the red helmet falling off with a soft hiss of air, revealing the same face she remembers, littered with new scars, eyes now bright green (?) and hair sporting a white streak, but it’s still him.

It’s still him.

She drops the rolling pin and throws herself into him, arms wrapping around his torso as he makes a small oof sound, inhaling the scent of Crime Alley and cigarette smoke, so familiar that she starts crying. She didn’t realize she missed it that much. 

“You’re back.” She says, the sound muffled by his leather jacket and her own tears. “You’re back.” He kept his word, after all.

She feels his laugh vibrate through her body as well, the sound hoarse but comforting. “What did you expect, Mari? I did say that it wasn’t goodbye, and I always keep my word.”

permanent tags

@wannajointhecrabcult @miraculous-simmer7 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @fantasyislive @chocolateherringtacofan @junarvion @susiej1118 @aestheticnpoetic @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladybug-182 @itsmeevie01 @g-arya @souleateralicestein @nightstarblue @i-is-mysterious @moonystars14 @vixen-uchiha @the-flapdoodle-noodle @labschaos @nathleigh @jalaluvsu

unspecified @momothefemur @indecisive-mess-named-me @laurcad123 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @sassakitty @fusser90

[kirin-jindosh]

Request for Kirin with a male S/O who's outwardly very affectionate, sweet, and polite, but has a sadistic/narcissistic streak and his morals are basically a roulette wheel? Just want that element of surprise type of relationship :)

Hey! This one was really hard; I wanted to go into depth on the whole affectionate, then sadistic personality, but it’s a short story and I had so little space.. but I gave it my best try! It just took longer to write! I made it a xReader just in case!

Jindosh x Male reader

Kirin undoes his tie in a hallway mirror, trying to wipe the glower off of his face. You could be so insistent sometimes; before he’s met you, he never would have invited a group of “friends” over for an evening.

But you had.. a way with words. You were so charming, so alarmingly nice that you often weasled your way into getting what you wanted.

You’re better dressed than he is tonight. You usually were. Whereas Kirin’s sense of fashion was a few years behind, you were always dressed in the newest waistcoats, spats, and ties. Your face was always well groomed, your hair styled back. And you were so polite to these people.

Why you ever wanted your grimy, rude, unruly inventor there was beyond Kirin’s imagination.

Kirin makes his way to the bedroom. He’s just glad to have slipped away before having to say goodbyes.

“There you are,” you lean against the door frame, giving him a warm smile. “I knew you’d scampered off somewhere, leaving me to play host.”

Kirin scoffs under his breath, “You enjoy every minute of it, don’t be modest.”

You’re face changes. “Me? Modest? Please.”

Kirin can finally really relax—you’ve dropped the charade.

“Did you accomplish your task?” He asks, slipping off his shoes. “Took your sweet time with it.”

You come over to him and drape your arms around his shoulders. “Oh, yes. They’ll help fund your next project. Getting them there was easier than expected.”

Kirin smiles a bit, amused. “I don’t understand what you get out of this.”

You place a kiss to his cheek, soft at first, then your lips move to his ear where you place a chaste bite. “It’s just rewarding in its own way. Watching them like they’re lab rats. It’s just a little funny.”

“Whatever you say,” Kirin unbuttons the top of his shirt. “Thank you for your efforts, as always. You have a way with them. I clearly don’t.”

The malice in your eyes softens and you give him a smile. “I wouldn’t care much for you if you were any good with people. I think you’d become unbearable quite quickly.”

Kirin falls back onto the bed, relaxing for just a moment. He plans on going back to work before the sun rises. You follow him to the mattress, running a hand through his hair.

“Though, honestly, I do wish you’d let me take you to my tailor. Your clothes don’t fit you right.”

Kirin sighs. So insistent.

[cardshcrp]

- check raise.

Wrangler taps his ragged watch, scowling at the scratched up glass and swiping a grimy thumb over it.

Twenty minutes, and the best prospects to take on the most skilled of the kids he’d brought would arrive. He’d already passed off the majority of them, secured them places in trustworthy crews that would feed and treat them right.

He’d swear on his grave he was a callous, rough fellow, but the truth was that he’d fed every street rat in the Quarter and Treme, and that there was always a big old heap of sleeping kids in his workshop come nightfall. And, of course, this; he looked out for them when nobody else would, rounded them up and found them spots to grow.

His name was Henri, but no one used it anymore. Far easier to just affectionately call him the Wrangler and look over the screaming crowd of children trailing along behind him, which was always a weird sight considering he was a cobbler by trade without a reason for such things to be happening.

He had a talent for picking up the best kids, the clever ones that had good eyes and clever fingers, and so he got a good stipend from the Thieves’ Guild to house their future members. And to bring them to these events, let them be chosen and taken into new lives and trained up, given home and purpose.

It wasn’t a bad life, all in all, most days.

The exceptions to that rule were the days during which Remy decided to throw fits.

Remy had been there the longest. He’d been special—Wrangler still remembered the hushed whispers. Le diable blanc. Le diable blanc. He’d taken him in without asking questions, raising the tenacious child not as a son but as a savior until he was old enough to shoo on. He didn’t offer affection or special attention, which was exactly the way they both liked it. 

Generally speaking, Remy wasn’t hard to handle. He’d tumble around in the street with the others and sometimes lift little trinkets or food with smart fingers, scampering home with a smile. He took care of himself, decked anybody who called him a girl, and once a week snuck Henri a blossom from the flower girl’s cart. But on the days where he was unhappy, he was a true terror, more liable to come back with broken bones or a busted lip or dangling a dripping knife in his hand than anybody else, all with a smart retort on his tongue.

Of course, it was just his luck that the boy had picked today of all days to be difficult, the day he could be changing his life for the better, having taking very personal offense to the fact that Brigitte and Thomas had stolen the dark glasses he used to cover his eyes so that the other children wouldn’t stare so much at them.

“Behave,” Wrangler hisses under his breath, and he is met with a red-eyed glare that says very clearly that Remy plans to do no such thing, not in the least. If anything, the child looks positively mutinous, ponytail disheveled and fists clenched. The boy was really fache now.  “Don’t you go startin’ bullshit, Remy. We here to pass a good time and find you some folk to work with. Understand?”

He is met with a begrudging nod. Remy does understand, after all. He isn’t stupid.

As a matter of fact, he’s smart enough to take advantage of the fact that Henri had only said not to start anything. If he wasn’t caught, then nothing would be started. And Remy was very, very good at not being caught.

He begins casting around for a good target, and it doesn’t take him all that long to find one. It’s actually a fairly sound plan; such things are known to work. If a prospective thief nicked something off an older, better one, it proved right off the bat they were worth keeping.

Remy’s eyes settle on a tall man, with dark skin and dark clothes and bright jewelry, surrounded by people. They were all trying to get closer, some doing a better job of it than others. None of the other kids in attendance seem to have noticed, too preoccupied with gawping at the lowlier thieves that were claiming them for their ragtag crews.

This man, whoever he was, had power, and Remy was going to steal a little bit of that feeling of being wanted, whatever it took.

He’s good at it, admittedly. He slides through the throngs of people easy as breathing, shifting between legs and flashing little smiles with downcast eyes. He oozes away from prying eyes, so indiscreet that the entire ballroom filled with people for whom paranoia was a living took no notice.

Except, unfortunately for him, the one person who really shouldn’t notice, and as soon as Remy’s fingers flutter up the lip of his mark’s back pocket, he finds himself hauled into the air by the scruff of his neck by one strong hand, dangling at the perfect height to swap glares with the warmest chocolate eyes he’d ever seen, creased with laugh lines all round the edges. He yowls in protest, flailing about madly quite like a fish out of water until he realizes exactly how many bemused stares are being leveled at him.

“Now, girlie,” the man says, slow and lazy and utterly unperturbed at the fact he’d just caught a ten-year-old street rat with sticky fingers in his pocket. “What you think you doin’, huh?”

Remy’s nose scrunches, and he scowls outright, struggle renewed as he squirms in the stranger’s iron grip. Little legs lash out, and he does his damnedest to hit the big man right in the crotch, but fails miserably.

“I’m a boy,” he retorts, bubbling over with spite and face so red there was nearly steam coming out of his ears. “And you can eat my cheeks!”

It’s impossible to miss the utter silence around them as everyone simply stares, taken aback by the child’s vicious audacity, and Jean-Luc LeBeau just laughs, deep and booming, right in Remy’s face.

It doesn’t do much but make the kid start turning vaguely puce-colored.

Wrangler is shaking his head in the background, face buried in his palm and shoulders shaking in a way that signals tears, stifled laughter, or maybe both.

“I’m the best in the Quarter!” Remy howls, completely furious. “I’m better’n you an’ everybody here! Let! Me! Go!”

The patriarch of the Thieves’ Guild eyes the shrieking ball of rage trying wonderfully persistently to kick him where it hurts, and the room as a collective is hushed, every breath held.

“I don’ think so,” he finally drawls, mouth curving to flash white, white teeth against dark skin. “Soon, maybe. Not yet, though.”

Wrangler clears his throat, because as much as he doesn’t want to speak up, he doesn’t want to see Remy get tossed from under the protection they’ve given him, either, not for a fit of foolishness at least. It’s his own fault if he earns it later, but right now? He’s but a boy, and so the cobbler steps up, head bowed in quiet deference. “’Scuse me, sir,” he says, and for the first time Remy’s eyes widen, because he’s never heard Wrangler call anybody sir, not even his fancy rich folk customers, and he hangs still, suddenly scared just a little. Not that he’d admit it. “But what’re you plannin’ t’do with him?”

Jean-Luc blinks, then casts a considering glance over the rather petulant child hanging from his grip.

“Well,” he says, “I always wanted a son, I reckon.”

Wrangler’s jaw nearly hits the floor, and quite a few of the eligible bachelorettes in the room look like they’ve swallowed a lemon whole, but Jean-Luc just smiles.

Remy squints at him and tells him, extra loud and extra brazen, “If ya can’t even knock up a cheap woman to do that, you ain’t worth much!”

The room practically explodes in shocked whispers and upset around them, but Jean-Luc just cackles, great, wheezing chuckles tearing out of him in a way no one’s ever seen. He sets down his glowering adopted son, though he keeps a firm grip on Remy’s collar, and grins. “Boy, you keep it up and I might crown you king today.”

Remy screws up his entire face (a very ugly sight to see), still not understanding, and stomps on his new father’s foot with all the force he can manage. It isn’t very much, all in all, and Jean-Luc just guffaws, hauling the boy off to his future home along with a whole tray of banana pudding and leaving the party in disarray.

Wrangler groans to himself as the ballroom settles into horrified fallout, eyes rolled to heaven in a plea he knows won’t be answered. Anybody up there is laughing at him today, that’s for sure.

Almighty God in heaven, that kid’s goin’ to be in charge of us all. We’re fucked.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

Can you do the ship meme for Jane x anyone you want?

1.Whois the most affectionate?:

Jane.

Likeall the other times I’ve mentioned her, Mal has been constantlydrilled that showing any sort of affection or care for other peopleis the worst kind of weakness you can ever show, and the scarsand traumas of Maleficent’s shitty parenting take a LONG while toheal.

2.Bigspoon/Little spoon?:

Malis big spoon, Jane is little spoon.

Asidefrom the fact that Mal starts naturally producing dragon fire and iswarm and cozy to snuggle up to at night, Mal feels much morecomfortable being the “protector” of the two, and Jane is morethan happy to have someone beside her to fend off the anxieties andnightmares.

3.Mostcommon argument?:

Whetheror not to do something in public.

Janeslowly loses her social anxieties as evidenced by her becoming partof the cheerleading squad and having her face out rather than hiddenin the Fighting Knight part of the school mascot, but she’s stillVERY reluctant to do many things where people can see her and judgeher, even if most people really couldn’t care.

Itdoesn’t really help that, willingly or not, Mal becomes one of themost public faces for VK reform in Auradon, along with her artneeding publicity and attention from the media to actually turn aprofit.

4.Favoritenon-sexual activity?:

Youwould think it’s Jane braiding and styling Mal’s hair, you’d bewrong.

Withthis specific pair, it’s actually hanging in just their underwearin Jane’s room, and eventually, their own brownstone apartment thatthey have all to themselves. Jane has suffered a lot of socialanxieties and expectations foisted upon her, not the least of whichwas the conservative ideals of Auradon that says that even in theprivacy of your room, you should be decent should someone happen tocome by for a chat.

It’sa form of rebellion for her to be this free and shameless about hersexuality and her body, long sources of shame and distress for her asAuradon has very little room for experimentation, expression, orfreedom in general.

“Ican dance in just my underwear, and I don’t ever feel like there’sinvisible eyes watching me! It’s great!”

Malhas a different brand of issues, in that the public takes greatoffense to whenever she is “daring” or “VK” here in Auradon,and it has bred an even stronger distaste in her for theirconservative values. Also, you couldn’t really walk around in yourunderwear in the Isle, if you had the choice—“it’s cold, it’sgrimy, and there’s PLENTY of things you do NOT want to step inwithout a slipper, at the least.”

Onan incidental note, this is why the two of them get rather hot andbothered when in the presence of silly print panties, particularlystyles similar to the ones they already own.

AndYES, Mal still has the green baby dragon print panties. Jane’s iswhite with baby blue “bow tie butterflies.”

5.Whois most likely to carry the other?:

Mal,with Jane.

Thereare many days where Jane just doesn’t want to do anything anymore,and Mal makes it a point that her girlfriend gets home safely or tosomewhere she can rest and recharge where there isn’t noise,people, or inquisitive reporters bothering her.

6.Whatis their favorite feature of their partner’s?:

Mal’seyes are an endless source of fascination for Jane. She really likesthe draconic quality they can take when she’s angry or excited, andthat she can read so much of her emotions and feelings from her eyes,not that that means much because Jane has fairy empathy and can tellexactly what she feels at any moment.

Onthe flipside, Mal finds herself REALLY into Jane’s body, becauseshe’s been so conservative and reserved about it, and now thatshe’s willingly and subtly changing it into something less “basic”and much more shapely, curvy, and full-figured (like a younger,sexier version of Fairy Godmother’s original form and her currentshape), she finds herself frequently accidentally setting things onfire when jets of flame shoot out of her nostrils when her internaltemperature gets too much.

Beforeyou ask, Jane has mastered basic fire suppression magic, and takes itas the clearest sign that the outfit or look is a “Yes, please.”

7.What’sthe first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings forthe other?:

Maland Jane are both incredibly socially awkward and avoidant when itcomes to this thing called “feelings,” and probably spend a longwhile trying to intentionally avoid each other, and accidentally runinto each other because they both happen to figure out “What’sthe least likely place I’m going to run into Jane/Mal?”, gothere, and irony runs its course.

It’seven worse that they now they can’t use the “I just so happenedto be at our usual haunts at the same time as you” excuse becausethere’s really no reason Jane nor Mal would ever be at a make-upstore without Evie helping them navigate and fend off the, ah,‘highly enthusiastic’ store clerks and product reps.

8.Nicknames?& if so, how did they originate?:

Mal’sare “My Little Space Heater” after said internal dragon firedevelops thanks to magic exposure, “Blaze” because she keepsaccidentally setting things on fire whenever she’s turned on, and“Vi” as in “violet,” one of her many preferred shades ofpurple.

Jane’sare “Bo” as in bow tie because of Jane’s preference for them,“Mom” used jokingly whenever she’s scolding Mal or trying toget her to act more mature, and “Mistress” when they’re gettingkinky.

9.Whoworries the most?:

Jane.

Malis no calm, collected, and anxiety-free individual herself, but Janeis just the much more severe train wreck.

10.Whoremembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?:

Jane,by virtue of infallible fairy memory.

11.Whotops?:

Jane.

12.Whoinitiates kisses?:

Jane.

Again,Mal is awkward about asking for physical intimacy and kisses, letalone initiating them, so Jane just preemptively showers her withlove.

13.Whoreaches for the other’s hand first?:

Jane.

Shedecides to be more daring with Mal, because she’s got limited timeto make a move on her (284 years at the least, give or take), andbecause she tires of the game of avoidance and awkward coincidencesthat happen after they first realize they’re gay for each other.

14.Whokisses the hardest?:

Mal.

Initiatingkisses? Terrible at it. Getting going once they’re actually firedup? There is very literal smoke when they break away, and possiblysinge marks to the beginnings of raging fires on nearby surfaces andflammable objects.

15.Whowakes up first?:

Mal,caveat that Jane never really sleeps.

16.Whowants to stay in bed just a little longer?:

Jane.

Outsideof her room is where all her anxieties live.

17.Whosays I love you first?:

Jane,with the caveat that it was said far too fast for Mal to understand,before the incident for questions 29-30 happen.

18.Wholeaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does itusually say?):

Jane.

“

19.Whotells their family/friends about their relationship first?:

Mal,because Jane is evasive and unwilling to open up to Fairy Godmothergiven how terrible all the other times went. It was also REALLY easyfor Mal to talk to a sentient lizard in a terrarium incapable ofspeaking, and just tell her friends that she’s dating a differentAK.

Again,it’s no surprise for VKs to hear that someone’s with someone newall of a sudden, and Mal was already the precedent for dating acrossthe culture line.

20.Whatdo their family/friends think of their relationship?:

Maleficentis disappointed as usual that her daughter has been fully purified bythe Auradonians, fallen in “true love” twice, and is evenmore a disappointment to her for the rest of all of eternity.

FairyGodmother is of two minds about this, because Jane is unquestionablyhappier and more confident, but she’s also becoming muchmore daring, scandalous, and adventurous in her daily life. It’skind of like FG’s the highly conservative single mother raising agood, rule-abiding, and decent child, who is now dating a girl whowears tattoos and leather jackets with pride, frequently breaks thelaw either intentionally or as a consequence of the trouble that isattracted to her like a super-powered magnet, and smokes—both inthe “dragon fire” sense, and the “weird and wonderful world ofrecreational drugs” sense.

AsI said, the VKs are non-plussed about it: Mal has already definedherself as the kind that consorts with the AKs after her famousrelationship with Ben, and again, they haven’t really cared muchabout other people’s relationships unless it enables or preventsthem from getting what they want or need day-to-day.

TheAKs are rather surprised that Jane would be dating Mal, of allpeople, and it throws all of their preconceptions about Jane for aloop, especially once they catch word of all the new things she’sdoing with her newfound confidence and girlfriend.

“HaveI really changed? Am I being corrupted? Or was I always like this,it’s just that I always pushed this side of me away? Whatever thecase, this is who I am now, and this is who I will be for theforeseeable future, because I like this me, and if you don’t?

“Well,you can just go fuck yourself! … Oh my gosh—I’m so sorry Icursed! But yeah, my point still stands...”

21.Whois more likely to start dancing with the other?:

Inprivate, Jane.

She’salways had a habit of dancing to songs on the radio or from theinternet when she’s alone in her room and there’s really nothingbetter to do.

Inpublic,

Mal.Aside from the one that she’s always taking the lead due topersonality and the difference in heights between them, she’s theone who’s not paralyzed by the thought of so many people seeing herdo something like dancing.

“Justfocus on me, okay?” Mal says, Jane does, and the just have fun onthe dance floor.

22.Whocooks more/who is better at cooking?:

Jane.

She’shad vastly more experience, and for Mal, “cooking was never reallya thing unless you were trying to roast a rat to make it tastesomewhat better, or get rid of poisonous bits neutralized by fire.”

23.Whocomes up with cheesy pick up lines?:

Jane,surprisingly enough.

“DoI smell smoke?” is frequently used whenever she’s sending naughtySnapchats or intentionally riling Mal up.

24.Whowhispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear duringinappropriate times?:

Jane,again.

She’ssteadily becoming more daring and confident now that she realizesthat Auradon’s conservative standards are a choice, not theonly “right” way to be in this world. She’s still frequentlynervous when she does it, and it’s very rare, but HOO DAMNdoes it catch Mal off-guard.

“It’slike a tiny adorable kitten just staring up at you with big, wideeyes, and going ‘Fuck you!’ it just can’t not throw youoff!”

25.Whoneeds more assurance?:

Jane,once again.

It’swhy Mal is always there to hold her while she’s seated in her lap,remind her that she’s stronger than she thinks she is, much morethan her appearance, and that she’s always going to be there forher.

26.Whatwould be their theme song?:

“BodyImage” by Tupperware Remix Party.

“Weare as beautiful as our flaws.”

27.Whowould sing to their child back to sleep?:

Mal.

Shehas the nicer singing voice, Jane thinks, and it’s good practicefor her to start being more comfortable with the idea of openlyshowing affection and vulnerability to another person.

28.Whatdo they do when they’re away from each other?:

Malhangs out with her friends, goes to “underground” events byherself or with her VK/more adventureous AK friends, and of course,works solo on her art, her preferred past time now that she doesn’tprioritize “being Evil.”

Janeplays video games, reads, does her other hobbies like cooking andgardening, explores nature, and practices her magic discretely.

29.oneheadcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart:

Jane’sconfession to Mal was during one of their twice monthly hang-outs inher room, practicing magic on the down-low as the ban was still ineffect at the time. Since Mal gave up her spellbook after the eventsof “Rise of the Isle of the Lost,” the two have resorted to goingaround looking for scraps of spells and old magical tomes, Jane beingthe better of the two because she is used to scouring dusty, mustylibraries for something new to read, and knows exactly where shehasn’t looked before.

Janetells Mal that she stumbled upon a very interesting, high-levelspell, a rarity considering so many of them are very tightly sealed,and leaks like this (by conspiracy or accident) were a rarity. “It’sa time-stop spell: freezes the entire world except you, so you’refree to do whatever you like as long as it’s in effect.”

Janeclarifies that at their experience and power levels, neither of themcan do more than just two-four seconds of frozen time, and the effectis just on their surrounding area—say, the size of Jane’s rathersmall room—but Mal is excited nonetheless.

Malarrives that Saturday at Janes’ room. The curtains are drawn, thedoor is locked, and they make sure that the nearly deserted hallsleading to it aren’t about to have anyone even passing by anytimesoon. They crack open Jane’s copy and notes of the spell, and startreading it, deciphering the missing pieces, and how to actually castthe damn thing.

Fictionmakes magic look so easy, but the spells are actually like “one-pressapps”: a collection of numerous interlocking, smaller spells andparameters and effects that have been collected, compiled, and givenan easy “key” so the magician doesn’t need to cast every singleone of those enchantments individually.

BecauseJane was the one to find such a treasure, she gets the honour oftrying to cast it first, and she does.

Toher surprise, it works—the world is completely frozen around her,everything from her furniture, the walls and the floors, and Malherself in an odd, baby blue hue like Jane’s magic. She’sobviously giddy that she managed such a powerful spell, instinctivelytelling Mal that it worked, before she realizes that she can’treact to or do anything in her current state.

Andthen an idea pops into Jane’s mind, a fleeting thought she’d beenpushing away several times, something she’d been reminding herselfthat she could not do because of the consequences, because it was notthe Right thing to do, but kept worming its way back to Jane’s mindover and over again, persistently clawing and fighting till it’s atthe very front and unavoidable.

Shehesitates for a moment, before she darts forward and kisses Mal onthe lips.

Becauseof her unique brain structure and how fast it can process everything,all of the debating, the pushing back, and the committing to adecision takes less than a second. Moving faster than she normallydoes, pressing her lips against Mal’s takes another. Registeringand enjoying the sensation of kissing Mal—lips scarred and chappedand not quite healed, with a hardness and roughness you just didn’tfind here in sunny and upper class Auradon Prep—and of finallyfinding an answer to the question of she would enjoy it (she does)takes two.

Andwith that, the haze is sucked back into Jane in a snap, and Mal isabout to open her mouth and ask if it worked before she realizesthere’s a pair of soft andquivering lipson hers that definitelyisn’t from anyone she’s ever kissed before.

Janeslowly opens her eyes, and when they notice Mal’s looking straightback at her, they shoot wide open. She pulls back so quickly shefalls onto her back, crawls away on her hands and feet.

Malblinks. “Jane…?” she asks.

Janecan’t stop time again, not with all these alarming thoughts andpredictions for the future and realizations about the full gravity ofher mistake bearing down on her. But, with the inhuman speeds she’scapable of, she can disappear into her closet before Mal is evenaware that she’s moved.

Malblinks again. “Jane!” she cries as she scrambles up.

Janeis inside her closet, moving aside boxes, old props, and schoolprojects, before she opens up one of the secret tunnels leading outof her room, a remnant of Auradon Prep from when it was a Duke’s“summer castle” that had escaped the filling and collapsingefforts. She hears Mal banging on the door outside, she pulls openthe hatch, crawls in, and shuts it behind her just as quickly.

Malputs her foot to the door, trying to kick it down, but the solidlybuilt, ancient hardwood isn’t the rotten and pest-infested planksshe’s used to. She curses under her breath as she scours her memoryfor an unlocking spell, before she just decides to go with theeasier, more direct approach:

Boom.

Thelock flies out, and crashes to the floor with a noisy clang. Theforce of the blast knocks over much of Jane’s stuff, making itcollapse over the secret tunnel and hiding her escape. Mal runs intoher walk-in closet, looks around, and starts digging through all herbelongings, trying to find where someone like her can squeeze in.

“Jane?”Mal asks as she searches. “Jane! Jane, where are you…?”

Insidethe tunnel, Jane cowers and hides, holding her breath for as long asit takes for Mal to give up and leave, ignoring the creepy crawlies,the dust, the fungus, and what else has found its way into this longabandoned tunnel in who knows how long.

Unfortunately,there’s no ignoring the voice in her head, quietly whispering thesame words over and over again, a familiar tune from her “childhood”:

“Youfucked up, you fucked up, you fucked up...”

Malshows up the day after, knocking on her door, asking if she’s homeevery once in a while, sending her texts and attempting to call her,but Jane just holds her breath again, pretends she’s not in, turnedoff her phone so her ringtone or the vibration of it on anythingwouldn’t give her away.

Becauseof her history with numerous social anxieties, she’s allowed totake attend her classes remotely, submitting homework, make-uprecitations, and attendance activities, even if her teachersencourage her to please come back to class, and her other friendssometimes drop by with her homework and group projects, rather thansending her digital copies.

Allthey really can do is just slid it under the door, or leave itoutside, wait for Jane to have it sent to them by all manner of meansthat don’t require her to show up in person—one of Carlos’flying drone projects, discretely teleporting them into her room, orenlisting the help of woodland creatures to whisk them away for her.

Theonly time she really does leave her room is when it’s time for hermonthly dinner with Fairy Godmother, falling on a Wednesday as usual.

Asyou might expect, FG is a very busy woman, being personallyresponsible for the supervision, growth, and development of most ofthe children of most of the monarchs in Auradon, who will becomefuture Kings and Queens themselves. It hasn’t left much time forher to attend to Jane, to say the least, but she made it a point toalways have certain times of the year and out of every month tocompletely, fully devote to Jane, where nothing short of arealm-threatening disaster can take her attention away.

Asmuch as Jane appreciates the thought and the spirit of it, however,like everything with her mother, it’s a mixed bag.

“So,I heard you haven’t been showing up to your classes again...”Fairy Godmother starts after that night’s dinner has beenserved—Chinese style steamed vegetable wraps.

“...”Jane idly picks up her chopsticks, her face cast down at her plate.

“Doyou want to talk about it?” Fairy Godmother asks.

“...”Jane pauses for a moment, her chopsticks held up in the air, beforeshe shakes her head, still not looking at FG.

FairyGodmother sighs. “Jane… I’ll admit I haven’t been the bestmother to you, especially now that all your friends are teens andyou’re all going through an incredibly rough period in yourlives—and that’s without the VKs.

“Butplease, could you confide in me whatever it is that you’re goingthrough right now? I can’t magic it away like I used to, but thatdoesn’t mean I’m completely helpless to help you!”

“Yesyou are,” Jane thinks to herself, while she says “I canhandle it on my own, mom.”

FairyGodmother sighs. “There’s no shame in asking for help, you know.”

“Iknow...” Jane says as she carefully tears apart a chunk of herwrap, watching the steam pour out of the seam and the vegetablesspill out.

FairyGodmother closes her eyes, and opens them again. “I’ve said itbefore, I’ll say it again: it’s best you tackle problems as soonas you can, because they tend to get worse the longer you wait.”

Janemakes a non-committal sound as she forks it into her mouth—hermother’s cooking is delicious as always, a perk of having eternityto master her domestic skills and twenty years to go all out inpracticing it, but it’s going to take more than good food to makeall these bad feelings go away.

30.oneheadcanon about this OTP that mends it:

Saturdayonce more.

Thelock in Jane’s closet has been put back into place, the damageundone with Carlos’ help and objective, infallible knowledge of theexact look of the paint and wood so not even Fairy Godmother would beany the wiser as to what happened to it, the dislodged contents alsorearranged for good measure.

Thecurtains are open, what sunlight she gets from this secluded part ofthe castle is streaming in, all is quiet and peaceful and no one isaround for miles, just how Jane likes it.

Orrather, how she’s supposed to like it.

Whenthe time rolls around that Mal was supposed to arrive and the two ofthem would practice magic together, Jane is all too aware thatthere’s going to be none of her or that, she feels restless,uneasy, a great gnawing inside of her that just can’t be ignored,and will not be ignored.

Janeis used to discomfort, to anxiety, to worry, but this is on a wholenew level. From years and years of having to feel others emotions,and having to name them and understand them to keep herself fromgoing insane, she knows what this feeling is, the scourge of thosewho were innocent children once, the eternal bane of anyone who hasever lived, the muse of so much of the pop songs and poetry thatAuradon Kids produce:

Heartbreak.

Itonly takes her mind a split second to comprehend all of this, but ittakes her hours still to take action, wallowing in her pain, suddenlysympathetic to every single person who has ever claimed or shown thatthey simply couldn’t move on. Night falls, and whereas mostpeople’s weekend plans had either come to a close or were about tobegin, Jane has wasted this particular Saturday with the people andthe society she’s known so far in her entire existence doingnothing.

Andat the stroke of eight o’clock in the evening, she finally hasenough and takes action.

Therewill be many more Saturdays for her, for as long as reality existed,but there would be only so many Saturdays she could spend with Mal.

Sheheads out of her room, and proceeds to break a personal rule of hersand a strong suggestion of her mother by going down the halls atinhuman speed, a sudden, mysterious breeze to all she passes by untilshe goes slow enough for mortal eyes just before she reaches Mal andEvie’s door.

There’sa part of her that says that she should just keep on going, make afull circle around the campus before ending back at her room, goingdown the opposite side of the hallway she always took, but there’smuch more of her that’s tired of the inaction.

Janeknocks.

Evieanswers. She hides her surprise well, but no poker face can match themight of Faerie Empathy. “Jane! Hi! What’s up…?”

“CanI talk to Mal?” Jane replies. “It’s really important.”

Thistime, the facade breaks, if only a little. “She’s out. Probablywon’t be back until past midnight.”

“Oh.”Jane said. “Do you happen to know where she went?”

“Idon’t know exactly, but I’ll bet anything she’s goingtagging,” Evie says.

Janesmiles politely. “Thanks, Evie.” She turns to leave, Evie beginsto close the door.

“Wait!Jane!”

Janeturns around. Evie opens the door again and holds out her phone.“Carlos made a tracker app for all our phones, so we could findeach other in case of trouble,” she says as she shows her just howto access it. “It’s only got half-a-mile or so of range, but it’sbetter than nothing.”

Janesmiles as she takes it, carefully cradles it in her hand. “Thankyou, Evie. I’ll give it back later!”

“Hurryif you can!” Evie said. “I’ll have to take selfies and vlogswith my webcam till then, and there’s only so many angles and shotsyou can make with that.”

“Iwill!” Jane says, before she leaves once more, Evie’s phonecradled safely in her hands.

Shebreaks a different rule as she heads off, a much more serious onethat could land her in jail, but the Guards were not as keen ondetecting rogue magic use as they were back then, and it’s a simplematter to hide the natural gossamer glow and reflective surface ofher wings as she flies, atop the condos and the parks, past thecorporate headquarters and the shopping complexes, beyond theMcCastles and the nigh identical houses of the suburbs, to theforgotten part of Auradon City, the first district and the first everto die:

MarigoldStreet.

Sheflies over old industrial parks with rusting construction equipment,hollowed out factories with boards over the doors and windows andfences around the perimeters, and long-abandoned “affordable”housing with concrete sidewalks cracked, trees long dead if theyweren’t reduced to stumps, and community gardens overgrown andwild.

Thankfully,there are no guards or dogs here, everything of value long salvagedor rotten past usefulness, and whatever technology Carlos had used intheir trackers worked better in the air, where at least one half ofthe signal couldn’t get blocked by the all the inches-thickconcrete and steel everywhere.

Shefound Mal in the middle of spraypainting the side of a warehouse. Theelectricity grid had long decayed and been cut-off by every powercompany in the city aside, but the glow of an LED camping light letMal work and Jane see the design, several paintings in sequence:

Ababy purple dragon, walking along by happily, until it sees a prettybaby blue bowtie butterfly, stares at it in wonder, jumps up into theair, flapping its tiny little wings and hovers beside it for a fewseconds, before it crashes to the ground, right on its tiny scalyface.

Malwas in the middle of blocking out the baby dragon back on the ground,when Jane cleared her throat.

Maljumped, holding up the spraycan like it was a gun, her whole bodytensed and ready for combat, her green eyes narrowed and giving Janethe harshest glare she was capable of. They quickly widened andturned terrified as she recognized who the intruder was.

“Jane?!”Mal sputtered. “How did you--?!”

Janeheld out her hands, Evie’s phone in one of them, the screen turnedout to her. Mal looked surprised, before she slowly, reluctantlyrelaxed her pose.

“… Whatdo you want?” she asked.

“I’msorry,” Jane said. “I’m sorry I took advantage of you andkissed you while you were under the effects of that time stop spell.I know you still probably hate me and don’t want to be friends withme anymore, but I--”

Malheld up her hand. Jane stopped.

“Jane?First up, I don’t hate you for kissing me while I was frozen intime; that’s WAY far from the worst thing anyone’s ever done tome while I was helpless, nor is it something that really rings alarmbells inside my head anymore.  

“Andsecond, I don’t hate you, but I do hate the fact thatyou avoided me like that. I’m the VK here, I’m the onewho’s supposed to be running away from my problems, damn it!”

Janewinces, and hangs her head. “Sorry for that. Again. I promise, nomore running—I want to make things up to you. I want us to befriends again. Or just cool with each other, if that’s as far asyou’ll let me.”

Maltakes a deep breath, and lets it go slowly. “Do you remember thewords for the spell?”

“Ido,” Jane says—it was a trivial task when you couldn’t forgetanything.

Shesays the words to Mal without the deliberate concentration, thechanneling of her magic, or the movements that made bending the lawsof reality as we knew it all the easier, rendering the incantationharmless and inert.

“Thanks,”Mal says, before she raises her hands and quickly casts it.

Whenthe world unfreezes, Jane is suddenly aware of lips pulling away fromher, their owner’s eyes closed.

Malopens her eyes again, none the wiser. “There. Now that’s a coupleof seconds of your life where you don’t know what the helljust happened.”

Janetries to hide her reaction, but she was never one for being subtle.

Malfrowns and blushes. “… Did it not work on you…?”

“Itwore off just as you pulled away...” Jane confesses.

Maltakes in a quick breath through her nose. “Well then. Shit.”

“… Doyou want to try that again—kissing, I mean? Without the time stopspells or the secrecy.”

Malshrugs, uneasy. “I dunno… do you?”

“Yes,I do… so, do you?”

Malthinks for a few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Sothe two of them awkwardly step up to each other, not quite sure whatto do with their hands so they just keep them at their sides as theylean in closer, closing their eyes as soon as they’re sure theirlips are aligned, and for a brief two seconds, the two of them knowwhat it’s like to kiss the hard and scarred mouth of a VK and thesoft and quivering mouth of a nervous wreck of an AK when both sideswere kissing back.

AndJane had to admit, it was way better than that stolen kisswas.

Theybreak away as they hear one of Evie’s ringtones. It’s from anumber neither of them recognize, which is as good a sign as any thatthey need to return to Auradon ASAP. They stay a while to completethe grafitti on the wall, though, with the last of the sequence ofpaintings:

Thedragon, looking sadly at the bowtie butterfly still up in the air.

Itseyes widening in surprise as the butterfly flutters down to itslevel.

Thetwo of them walking off into the distance, side by side, happy ascould be.

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