#sullys flirt in self defense

[torukmaktoskxawng]

If Tsu'tey lived and met my OC:

Tsu'tey: Ah, another Suli, here to stomp around and make a mess of things.

Kayla: ... You seem nice.

Tsu'tey: You should go away.

Kayla: Nah, you'd miss me.

Tsu'tey:

[axther]

the devil’s train

bakugou x reader x oc: the devil’s train (yandere) in which Bakugou and Gil, the reader’s best friends, show that they care for her far more than as a friend. for @tspice283​ tw blood, fighting, stalking, general yandere behaviour

YN LN led a very uneventful life.

She went to U.A. and had several close friends. She was told she had a bright future when it came to her hero career and was often described as friendly. She was relatively confident in herself and knew how to fight.  But she wasn’t ready for this. 

Before her were her two best friends; Bakugou Katsuki and Gil Keating. It was dark out, dark and cold in an unfamiliar place. They were growling and barking like dogs, clawing at each other with blood on their hands. YN was lost, horribly and terribly lost in her mind and on the pavement. There was blood everywhere, splattering against the wall and on the ground. They were drooling like madmen, disgusting, revolting, and making YN want to throw up. 

Ah...but maybe she should go back to the beginning.

YN always walked to school with Gil. 

It was something of a tradition. They were childhood friends, born in the same town and growing up with each other. Gil was tall, much taller than YN, with dark, green eyes that seemed to bear into YN’s very soul. His hair was white, snowy white, and YN wasn’t actually sure if it was natural. He was almost feminine, had it not been for his strong personality, it would’ve been easy to confuse him with a woman. He was a bit of a flirt to be honest, but YN didn’t mind. He was kind to her, and that was what mattered. Gil’s quirk was Stasis, temporarily stopping time. It was only for a few seconds at the moment, but he could do enough damage in sparring that even Aizawa recognised his efforts. To YN, he was pure fluff with a side of angst that she only ever saw when he fought others. On that day in particular, he was humming a song under his breath about some sort of strawberry snake, rocking on his heels while walking and being happier than usual. YN wasn’t sure why, but she certainly wasn’t going to question his good mood, considering he was usually quiet on their walks. “So!!” YN chirped, skipping a bit. “Do you wanna go somewhere after school, or something? It’s been a while since we’ve done something that’s just the two of us.”  Gil lit up, a bigger smile gracing his face as he leaned down and wrapped an arm around YN. “Of course! We could go to the arcade, or maybe to the mall, or that new boba tea shop that opened up! Oh! Or we could do all three! I’ll pay,” He winked, strangely giddy. “That sounds great, actually!” YN looked up at him, then back to the sidewalk with a happy flush. “Aww, you’re blushing!” Gil nuzzled the top of YN’s head in an intimate gesture, chuckling. “That’s so cute!” “Shush,” YN pouted, smacking his arm softly in an effort to stop him from mussing her hair. “Fine, fine.” Gil pulled away, but kept his arm over her shoulder. YN didn’t think much of it, realising that they were quickly approaching the school. She saw Ochako and Tsuyu both walking towards the door, and she broke from Gil's arm to rush towards them. Behind her, Gil's smile plummeted as he watched her leave. His eyes seemed to flash for a second, a dark colour that would send shivers down anyone’s spine. It was like an unreigned desire inside him that slowly spilled out until YN turned back to him. It disappeared almost instantly, another smile coming upon his face. “Hm? Is something the matter?”   “Nothing, nothing!” He waved a hand, still smiling brightly. YN hummed, shrugging her shoulders and walking through the doors with the other girls and leaving Gil to walk in by himself. His eyes darkened again, going blank and almost hollow as he shuffled along. YN didn’t notice how he became almost a shell behind her, chatting happily with Ochako and Tsuyu. Momo and Jirou soon caught up, talking about their weekend and filling the silence with pretty talk. “Hey, YN!” Ochako chirped, linking her elbow with YN’s and Momo’s. “We’ve got sparring again today! Who do you think you’re gonna be paired up with?” “Oh…” YN mused, placing her finger on her chin. “I’m not sure! Last week I had...Midoriya? So maybe I’ll get Bakugou this time.” At the mention of Bakugou, all the girls glanced over to see the blonde standing a few feet away. He was bright red and had just jumped like a spooked cat, hair spiking up and the flush on his face overtaking his neck and ears. YN tilted her head curiously, and the other girls laughed.  “What was that about, Bakugou!?” Ochako yelled over her laughter, holding her stomach. Momo and YN were the only ones nice enough to hold back their laughter, but even then, it was strained. “Shut the fuck up!” Bakugou barked, going from cat to dog and back to cat again, slinking away past the corner of the hall. The giggling died down, before Momo raised an eyebrow. “What was that about, really?” She murmured, looking almost concerned. “That was really strange.” “Maybe he’s just having an off day,” Ochako shrugged, linking arms proudly with YN and smiling. “Or maybe he has a crush! Ha! Imagine the day!”

  YN laughed too. But sometimes, foreshadowing is obvious.  The day passed quickly and quite uneventfully, with clouds crawling over the sky and slowly darkening. There were several times where rumours of multi-class sparring being cancelled, but Aizawa dispelled them and often told them that as heroes, they would have to work in the rain anyway. But he took mercy on them, and decided to start sparring early so they didn’t get soaked. He chalked it up to he himself not wanting to get wet, but everyone knew that he just wanted to make sure they didn’t get sick. When everyone filed out, Gil made a beeline to YN’s side with a big, sheepish smile. “Hi~” He trailed out, winking playfully. “I missed you! 1-B is boring without my bestie.” “You flatter me,” She smiled, rolling her eyes but letting him recline on her.  “It’s true! Tetsutetsu and all the others are cute and all, but you’re my number one.” “That’s cute.” “C’mon!! Don’t just brush me off!” “Alright.” Aizawa’s tone cut through their conversation, and for a second, Gil glowered at the teacher. Aizawa didn’t seem to notice, though, and let it go as he started listing pairs. Oddly enough, Bakugou wasn’t set with YN; instead, Tsuyu was saddled with him, and YN missed the way that Bakugou’s eyes trailed over her as he walked past. Aizawa instructed Gil and YN together, and Gil glanced down at her. “Ladies first.” YN walked past him, not replying but simply going into their designated row so they could spar, next to Bakugou and Tsuyu. Aizawa announced for them to begin, and slowly, the clouds gathered above them. YN assumed a more defensive stance after seeing Gil whale on his own classmates before, but strangely enough, he simply stood there with his hands in his pockets. “Dude,” YN hissed. “What are you doing? Hit me.” “Nah.” Gil took a hand out to check his nails, nonchalant. “What?!” YN was whispering, trying to not catch Aizawa’s attention, but felt confusion. “Why not?!” “Don’t wanna.” “That’s so stupid! C’mon! I can take it.” “I don’t want to hurt you.” “What?” YN lowered her fists, jaw dropping. “Are you serious? Why?” “Uh, it’s sort of self-explanatory.”   “No, it’s not!” As they bickered quietly, neither of them noticed Bakugou losing his attention from sparring, and looking at the two of them. He wasn’t even fighting Tsuyu anymore, just watching them with a deathly blank stare. It was like she didn’t even know he was there. Bakugou was a confusing creature. He was incredibly contradictory, saying one thing but meaning another. He tended to keep to himself, but wanted nothing more than to have friends and be loved. Who didn’t? What human could live without love? Oh. And speaking of love, he loved her. He first met YN LN when he was in kindergarten. She was gentle and sweet, but strong and not scared to talk back. Despite the fact that quirks were so….segmenting at such a young age, she seemed to pay no attention to it. She didn’t talk to many unless they spoke to her first, or if she had to. She kept to herself, politely. That was the first time he noticed her, and he supposed that’s where it all started. The second time, he had just gotten admitted into U.A. He recognised YN almost immediately, which was strange, considering he hadn’t seen her in over ten years. But it was like she hadn’t truly changed, just grew up with a certain grace about her. She had matured, and she was beautiful. He started deteriorating, in a word. Everything he did was in hopes of her seeing him, really seeing him for who he was. He knew he wasn’t perfect, but who else would be worthy of her? He had to be the greatest to ever come close, so he crushed everyone in his way to get there.  But then the fucking slimy, disgusting, filthy, destructive, sweaty, obscene, vile, vulgar, dirty man came along and dared sully YN’s lovely glow. Gil was, in many ways, like Bakugou. He aimed for the top, and stopped at nothing to get what he wanted. He was the one thing standing in his way for YN, and Bakugou would tolerate nothing in his way. He had come too far. He had done too much, watching YN walk home to keep her safe and taking her shirts from the line so he had some semblance of her in his room. Taking pictures so that way their kids can see her as she was, beautifully natural and unaware. Bakugou had boarded the devil’s train to love a long time ago. And he had no intention of getting off.

He had come so far. And here Gil was, refusing to fight YN. Out of what? Love? 

Something in Bakugou snapped. He rushed over to Gil, picking him by the collar and growling at the precipice of all his pent up, bubbling rage. His hand already started cramping from holding on so tight, fingers going red. “You-! You, you, you, you-!” Words escaped Bakugou in his pure rage. Thunder started rumbling across the class as everyone slowly stopped sparring and started watching Bakugou threaten a very nonplussed Gil. “Me. Yes. What do you want?” Gil raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and letting Bakugou carry all of his weight. “You fucker! You know what you’re doing!” “Do I?” Gil smirked, and quite suddenly, Bakugou, really truly, realised that Gil knew what he was doing. He looked over to YN, who was in a mix of confusion and anger.  Bakugou felt the colour draining out of his face, realising that YN must’ve thought that he was flying off the handle for no reason. But how would he explain that the love of his life was being manipulated by some smooth-talking bastard? “Go on,” Gil grinned wolfishly. “Get mad. I dare you.” “You…” Bakugou was panting when the first drop of rain hit him, trickling down the back of his neck and into his shirt. Several students looked up, eyes wide as the rain slowly started coming down. Gil and Bakugou were in a stalemate, hanging onto whatever thread of disguise they had about YN. “Bakugou.” Aizawa’s voice was quiet, stern in the growing storm. “Let go of him.” Bakugou dropped Gil, throwing him into the ground. Gil just kept his shit-eating grin, and Bakugou soon realised why; YN rushed towards him, immediately fussing over him and prodding at his collar. Jealousy flushed through Bakugou, but what could he do? He had created this. He created this monster that stood between him and YN. Between him and euphoria. Bakugou was pulled away by Aizawa, who kept a strong grip on him despite Bakugou’s lack of resistance. He kept giving Gil a deadly glare, and Gil stared right on back.

It was war. 

Bakugou waited outside of 1-B once he got out of class.

Of course, he wasn’t sure if or when they would leave, but he knew that Gil was not going to just let the incident go. No, he knew that the evening was going to be a great equaliser. One man would walk away victorious, and the other would be left either licking his wounds, or dead. Bakugou was ready for whatever would happen, but to him, there was only one way the day was going to end; with him being the sole victor for YN’s heart. YN’s love. Bakugou sighed, a flush growing on his face at the thought of being YN’s boyfriend. He’d never let her go, of course, considering all he had done to get to the position he was in now. He would bite and spit and fight anything that got in his way. And the last obstacle was right in front of him. “Done with your little freakout, Kaachan?” Gil may have towered over Bakugou, but the smug look on his face made Bakugou’s gut crawl.  “I’m gonna beat your fuckin’ face in.” Bakugou snarled, gritting his teeth. “And I know you wanna smash mine in. C’mon. We’ll settle this.” “As you wish~” Gil teased, walking two steps behind Bakugou as they left the school and began walking down the ever-darkening streets. The rain had cleared for the moment, but the forecast said it’d come back within the hour. How strange. A final showdown between enemies in the rain and darkness. It felt almost divine. Bakugou turned down a dark alleyway, not wanting anyone to see the bloodbath. The last thing he needed was pictures or rumours surfacing once he was a hero, once it mattered. “So.” Gil stopped at the very edge of the path, hands in his pockets. “How do you want to settle this? Like a brute by fighting?” “Like men.” Bakugou turned, jumpy at any movement Gil made. Gil scoffed. “Perhaps we could go our separate ways and whoever gets YN to love him wins.”  “What? Scared?” Gil's eyes lowered in a glower, and Bakugou felt a shiver down his spine. The young man suddenly felt cold, calculating and not at all like YN’s childhood best friend. “No.” Gil never broke eye contact with Bakugou. “I know that in terms of quirks, yours is more violent and prone to harm than mine. But I could dodge you until you’re exhausted and run dry. It would be a constant back and forth that would achieve nothing.” “It might not. But at least you know your place.” Bakugou stuffed his hands in his pockets just like Gil, and it felt like a stalemate. “Are we gonna do this, or not?” “Fine.” Gil sighed, rolling his head back in a relenting manner. “Like dogs.” Bakugou pulled his hands out, his own nervous sweat already providing enough nitroglycerin to start the fight. Every cell in his body was on fire, elated at the fact that he could finally pummel Gil into a pulp and prove to YN that he was nothing but a manipulating bastard that wanted to sully her. “Finally-!” Bakugou growled, feeling as though he had already won as he rushed forward to strike Gil. “It’s over.” Before Bakugou could hit Gil, though, he disappeared, and Bakugou felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the feeling of someone behind him. A hand started reaching for the back of his neck, but Bakugou twisted around to swat at Gil's arm before he could attack. Gil disappeared again, and Bakugou realised that he was right; it would just be an endless back and forth before one of them got tired. But Bakugou was willing to take that risk. He had seen Gil's quirk in action before; it drained him quickly enough, given that they all sparred in ten-minute increments. Stasis was more of a technical quirk, and Bakugou could use that to his advantage.

He spun around, gritting his teeth and aiming for Gil's stupid face again and that shit-eating grin that haunted his dreams. There was another disappearance, another swing, and it was like a pendulum: where Bakugou swung, Gil would disappear. It was a dance, above all, and a lethal one. Bakugou saw Gil starting to wheeze, and spun his elbow back to sock him in the stomach. Gil barely dodged it, but not with his quirk, instead choosing to side-step, and Bakugou knew he had him on the ropes. It was a sweet victory on the tip of his tongue, and he was just about to make contact when-

“What the fuck is going on?” 

Both men froze when they heard that oh-so-beautiful voice, shock seeping into everyone’s system. The two turned slowly, seeing YN with a look of angry shock on her face. She had a clear umbrella, and the two realised that it had started raining again during their fight. “Uh.” Gil cleared his throat, glancing to the side then back again. “Hello.” “Answer me.” YN’s voice was stern and cold. “What the absolute fuck is going on?” “Nothing.” Both of them answered at once, snapping their arms to their sides in a desperate attempt to seem normal. “Just sparring, babe, it’s noth-” “Babe?” Bakugou felt the shock absolutely drain out of him and rage take its place. “Babe?!” “Ita, I know you’re lyin-” “So?” Gil cut YN off, eyes flashing again. “Do you have a problem?” “Yes! I do!” Bakugou yapped, feeling his hair go on end again. “Are either of you listening-oh my fucking god!” Bakugou didn’t hesitate to absolutely launch his fist into Gil's face for the most satisfying punch of his life. Gil's nose caved in and blood immediately started coming out, pooling onto the pavement. Gil took a second to register that he was even hit before he retaliated, slapping Bakugou’s arm away and promptly socking him in the stomach. YN let out a surprised yelp, dropping her umbrella in shock and getting knocked over by Bakugou trying to dodge another one of Gil's hits. They were fighting, resorting to biting and frothing at the mouth like rabid animals. Bakugou hadn’t felt this level of pure anger ever in his life, and killing seemed like such an easy task against Gil. YN was the only thing that kept him going, his last motivation to even live or succeed. He felt that if he didn’t prove himself, if he didn’t make Gil stand down, then it was for nothing. It didn’t matter that YN was trying to pry them off of each other, swearing bitterly in her confusion, or that Gil was bleeding profusely. Bakugou didn’t care that his hands were covered in Gil’s blood and his own. Nothing mattered anymore but winning. 

Bakugou had boarded the devil’s train of love. And he couldn’t get off. 

[katiethxrne]

Lydia Ashworth

if the only one have to rely on is yourself then you better be a fucking mountain

Lydia Ashworth’s family has long since been involved in the Dark Arts, long before any of them arrived to England sometime in the 19th century. Lydia’s family belonged to a family of prize fighters, illegal betting rings, and smuggling. It wasn’t quite expected she would join them, but no-one had expected her to turn traitor to their whole family line. Her entrance to Hogwarts, and subsequent sorting into Slytherin was right on track, however what wasn’t on track was Lydia’s about face from the prize fighting underground of the English wizardry, to duty and service for country and wix-kind. She rose to the top in her year, as a prefect, then Head Girl, before being accepted into the Auror Program and cutting ties with most of her family in a fit of ambition and sacrifice. 

Most would say this was a disaster, something that would be emotionally scaring. For Lydia Ashworth, it was the freedom of shackles of darkness for her flight towards the light.

Her youth was spent in-between the shadow of the two Wars, she came of age as an Auror during the Second War. She was never given a chance to join the Order of the Phoenix, though during the Second War she smuggled muggleborns out of England, fought Death Eaters at her doorstep, and subdued Snatchers whenever she could. Subsequently helped found the Auror’s Forensics & Crime Division and the Infiltration & Investigation Division for the Department after watching the blundering of Ministry Raids before the Second War, and after confronting the fact that the Aurors had to do more than simply catch and imprison dark magic users. They must cull them, root and stem, from the moment of inception.

Leading a modest comfortable life, filled with the laurels of her years of service in Auror Corps, she has a few nieces and nephews from her youngest sister who sought her out long after Lydia cut ties with her family. She goes to the Farmer’s Market in Diagon Alley whenever she doesn’t have missions to run, and runs the streets of Muggle London with her dog Daisy. Lydia Ashworth is a seemingly normal wix, with more field experience than Aurors twice her age, and better than those half. Her prowess in the field is only outmatched by her love of teaching, prowling local dueling halls giving out free self defense lessons and going back to Hogwarts to help with the dueling club.

Lydia’s love of teaching also makes her an excellent recruitment officer when it comes to non-traditional Auror Agents. She has an excellent eye for non-traditional talent, seeking out and nurturing them to growth. Meeting the teenager Katie Thorne, she could see something there, great potential, for both side of the magical coin. The girl had a spark of brilliance, she watched the teenager’s fluid movements, how she flexed the rules of the dueling court and tested the boundaries, watched the girl creatively fight her way through her opponents and selfishly hoarding the glory like scrapes of kindness. Ashworth questioned professor in-between matches, about potential Aurors, about the duelists all the while watching as Katie swept the field with all of them, all while laughing and idly flirting with every girl around the arena. The professor whispered not to pay any attention to the firebrand on the court, the tiny firecracker making fools out of her competition, she wasn’t even a regular. Thorne was brilliant, but bad news, not the kind the Aurors should sully themselves with, would Miss Ashworth please pay attention to other recruits? The professor explained that though Katie was brilliant in a fight, better with a cauldron, with a strong sense of justice; that she was not one to follow rules, regulation or order. Katie Thorne was an aimless little genius, racking up detentions and patents at an increasingly alarming rate, she already had been threatened with expulsion, had caused mild uproars, and was all in all an experiment in teenager nuclear fusion while left to her own devices. Ashworth could only see one thing -- potential -- what the girl needed was a goal, an ambition, she needed something to work towards otherwise she’d implode. Ashworth made a decision, an imperious one, a truly mad one in the face of someone truly unruly and untested. Katie was meant to be in the field, but her grades were low, her record one of the worst Hogwarts had seen, and was already in some hot water legally concerning potion experimentation. But everyone deserved a chance, to reach their limit and go beyond. So Lydia gave her the information, the spark, and let it fester hoping it would grow.

Lydia Ashworth is a shrewd tactician, her plans rarely don’t work out and usually through no fault of her own. So when Katherine E. Thorne showed up for the Winter Examinations, with her poor records, a handful of O NEWTS and a burning fire in her chest Lydia took a risk. She took an uncalculated move, and personally vouched for the girl’s future, and her entrance to the Aurors. Since then she’s been made an Auror Commander, has been Katie’s indirect supervisor, and her far more direct mentor. She knows Katie flexes the rules, she knows the young Auror is teething on the lifeline she’d thrown her years ago, she knows that Katie isn’t meant for the straight and narrow. Katie is meant for more than a simple potioneer, a simple Auror, she sees that flicker of ambition in her eyes, the same Lydia has, and she hopes. 

[pendragyn]

Stacking The Deck

Yet Another Good Omens Fanfic from the Ineffable Bastards Universe (Also available on AO3)

Harriet wanted to be asleep. She’d just had a baby a few hours earlier, and all she really wanted was sleep. They had given her something for the pain, but it didn’t stop her having to use the restroom, which was NOT FUN right now, and it took a while for things to settle back down and she just. wanted. sleep.

What she got, was voices.

A few she recognized, distant and muzzy, as the nuns who’d helped deliver the baby. There was also the one not-nun who’d shuffled in during the chaos, wrinkly as an old apple with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, who had actually delivered the baby before quickly shuffling back out again. The nuns had treated her with deep respect, whispering to each other about ‘a touch of the Old Adam’ she carried about her.

There was now a lot more raucous laughter coming from down the hallway, and some singing of what were definitely not religious hymns. Mingled in were the voices of men, which some deep part of her brain realized were from her supposed security detail, who’d abandoned her the minute the live feed with her husband had ended.

But under those voices was another voice, one that she’d learned to listen to when it whispered a little too loudly to ignore. And it was telling her to check on the baby, to check on Warlock. Right Now.

With a muffled groan Harriet slid her legs over the side of the bed and eased herself to her feet. With the dimmed lights and muddled by whatever they had given her, it took her a moment to realize that the bassinet wasn’t there. No Warlock. And no guards. And no nuns.

The coolness of the linoleum felt good against the bottoms of her feet and she shuffled dreamily out of the room into the empty hallway, too well medicated to feel panic, but the little voice was getting louder. And it was talking with an odd accent, which was weird. And it was calling her by her full name now, which was even more unusual. Find your baby, Harriet Sibyl Dowling. Find him now or lose him forever.

She swayed uncertainly at a crossroads, the darkness and everything conspiring to make the two hallways seem interminably long and full of oddly moving shadows. What finally moved her was the out of tune singing that seemed to be going on about ‘hedgehogs can never be something at all’. Harriet liked hedgehogs, and on unsteady legs she moved towards the voices.

“Let me just pop out and get another bottle!” A splash of light and noise flooded the end of the hallway and Harriet turned away in self defense, pushing through a swinging door and finding herself in the tiny nursery. There were three babies in bassinets, lined up in a row, clearly having just been tended to and awaiting return to their mothers.

On the little weighing table next to the door, three tiny bracelets drew Harriet’s attention ,and the part of her that had been raised to be helpful picked them up and moved towards the trio of babies. She’d always been good at kenning, as her grandmother had called it. Said it was a special gift that only a few people were born with, and she had warned her solemnly to keep it secret. She’d never even told Thaddeus, not that he would have believed her. It had led her to him, had told her just where she needed to be to be noticed by him.

She’d been making quite a bit of money, going down to the boardwalk and the street fairs and watching with wide-eyed innocence as some fast talker shuffled cards or shifted cups while asking people to make bets. She’d pretend shyness and let them flirt with her, and feign delighted shock when she’d lose and lose and lose only to win in the very end, much to everyone’s amazement, especially the ones doing the shuffling. But that day she’d gone and watched other people play and lose, and when the man from her dreams walked up, dressed fancy and looking to impress his friends, she’d let her grandmother’s sun hat float away on the breeze and land at his feet. The rest had fallen into place, as they say, like magic.

The thought of magic had her turning to look at the little sleeping babies snuggled in their blankets. Harriet knew right away which one was hers, all hers, little Warlock in the cream blanket. She tied the little bracelet back on his wrist, stroking her finger over the curve of his cheek. “Hello baby Warlock. My little miracle baby.” She thought of all the effort they’d gone through, her and Thaddeus, to get to this point, and here he was, small and wrinkly and perfect.

The little baby on the left shifted and sneezed and Harriet stifled a giggle, looking down at the other two bracelets, squinting at the bad handwriting, not that it mattered, because she knew the right tag went to the left baby, bundled snuggly in a red blanket. She squinted at the name. “Hello little Adam. Do you have a touch of the Old Adam in you too, I wonder? You look like a little angel to me,” she cooed, tying his little bracelet on.

All that left was the right baby, sleeping soundly in blue, looking supremely satisfied. “And here’s another little angel, waiting to fly off to his mommy and daddy. They’re going to love you very much, yes they are, yes they are,” she cooed, feeling supremely satisfied herself with a job well done. She’d had a baby and had averted disaster and all would be well with the world when she could finally get some sleep.

Sister Theresa Garrulous was laughing at a joke the midwife was telling when she pulled up short in the doorway to the nursery, the much shorter woman walked into her back with a muffled yelp. “Mrs. Dowling!”

Harriet smiled dreamily and shushed the nun and the little grinning woman behind her. “Shhhh! You’ll wake them.”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, dear,” said the shorter woman, gently taking Harriet’s hand and trying to lead her back to her room.

“I needed to check on the baby,” Harriet told her. She twisted around to look at him again, clearly not wanting to let him out of her sight.

Sister Theresa anxiously looked over the babies, checking their tags and sighing in relief that this time Sister Barbara Jane Obstreperous hadn’t foolishly taken off their tags during their baths, as the old hag was usually wont to do, no matter how much Mother Superior scolded her. “Why don’t we bring him back with you,” said Sister Theresa soothingly, unlocking the wheels of the center bassinet. “He’s all tidied up for now and it will be a bit before he needs another feeding. Maybe you’ll be more rested by then.”

“I hope so,” said Harriet, smiling down at the wrinkly old woman who wasn’t actually as old as Harriet had assumed. “The little voice was getting quite loud,” she confided.

“Oh, they do that sometimes,” the midwife agreed, patting Harriet’s hand and helping her back into her bed. “Stay in bed now, there’s a dear, you’ve had a rough time of it and no mistake.”

Harriet nodded, feeling sudden tears pooling in her eyes. “It’s a miracle we had a baby at all,” she said, smiling over to where the nun had settled Warlock’s bassinet. “He’ll probably be the only one I have, but I’ll love him no matter what. My little miracle baby.”

And Sister Theresa shared a smirk with the midwife before happily bustling herself back to the party, assuming the midwife was following along behind. Much like winking, smirking was an ancient and versatile communication device. For example, Sister Theresa Garrulous’ smirk said: A dark and sinister miracle seen to by Hell’s Chosen Envoy, Master Crowley, to deliver unto her the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness. We shall be greatly rewarded for our work here this terrible night, basking in eternity under Our Lord Satan’s great and sullied wings!

And she had assumed the midwife’s smirk had meant: Indeed, Sister Theresa, foul and dark deeds were done this night and you and the others of your order will reap the many rewards promised to you, I assure you of this as a Chosen Emissary of Hell, Satan’s Own Midwife.

Whereas the midwife, knowing full well what Sister Theresa’s smirk meant, had smirked back while thinking to herself: Get gone you daft bloody besom, before I send you to your reward myself. How absolutely binkers do you have to be to want to destroy the very planet you live on? With tenderness she patted Harriet’s hand, tucking her back under the covers. “I have no doubt you will love him with all your heart, dear. What did you name him?”

“We were going to name him Thaddeus, but one of the nuns suggested Warlock and I knew it was just right.” They both looked to the small form sleeping in the bassinet and the midwife canted her head and cracked into a wide smile and followed Sister Theresa out of the room. She turned left instead of right though, heading for the main doors, her work for the night done, and done well if she said so herself.

When a shadow passed in the hall Sister Mary Loquacious popped out of her little room near the entrance, where she’d been tasked to keep an eye on the door in case they had any other visitors during the evening hours. “Oh, leaving so soon?” she said with a slight sigh of disappointment. She really had hoped to geta chance to join in on the sinister celebrations going on in the refectory.

“‘Fraid so, love, got other patients to see to back in Lancretown. Don’t look so glum dear, I see good days ahead for you. Just steer clear of Master Crowley and that lot, yeah?”

Sister Mary frowned in confusion at having a Chosen Emissary of Hell telling a Satanic nun to avoid dealing with demons, but she liked Nanny Ogg far too much to contradict her. “I’ll, er, keep it in mind Nanny.”

“You do that my dear, and you’ll be golden,” Nanny grinned, giving Sister Mary a wink and slipping out the door.

Back in her room Harriet shifted a little, just beginning to finally drift off to sleep, smiling as a cool hand brushed against her brow, tucking her mussed hair away from her cheek. That’s my girl, the not-so-little voice whispered, a faint image of a handsome middle-aged woman in old timey clothes shimmering in the air beside her bed. I’m mighty proud of ye, Harriet Sibyl Nutter Dowling. Everything’s right where it needs to be.

[femme-blem]

Can I please have headcanons of Sully with a super femme s/o? Like always in a dress, loves girly stuff, has never fought anything but a cold femme. Please? Much love from a smol gay 💕

I see you’re an anon of culture…this is such a good prompt and I regret that it took me so long to get to it but here it is!!

Sully with a high femme s/o

When Sully falls for you, she falls hard. She never thought she’d admit to liking anything cute, but here you are, this absolutely adorable thing that she’s gone head over heels for.

She doesn’t quite know how to act around you at first. Sure, she’s always been popular with the village women (and some men, not that she counts those), but it’s never taken any real, intentional effort on her part. She’s never done the chasing before, so her first attempts to flirt are charmingly awkward but no less determined.

Speaking of, she stops accepting the attentions of these other women once you start going out. She’s a knight, after all, the very picture of honor. Why would she accept their gifts and flirting when she’s already taken by the prettiest woman in the realm?

You draw the eyes of quite a few people as well, but a sharp look from one of Ylisse’s toughest is enough to make them mind their own damn business.

After seeing you two together and how sweet Sully was towards you, Vaike asked her if she was going soft. He made that mistake exactly once, and never again.

Due to her noble background and her own few attempts to try and fit into the mold, Sully knows exactly how much work goes into being feminine. The makeup, the often-constricting clothing, the etiquette lessons, all of it. Though she’s shit at it herself, or perhaps because of it, she admires you greatly and never looks down on you for being “girly.”

She does worry about your ability to defend yourself. You’re such a sweet, gentle woman, and she’s torn between boldly proclaiming that she’ll always protect you and inviting you to train with her so you can build up some strength and learn basic self-defense techniques.

Despite having wildly different interests, one thing you easily bond over is animals. Sully loves her horse and brags about him often. When you beg her to let you pet him, she’s a little hesitant, emphasizing that he’s a seasoned knight’s horse and not some affectionate pony to cuddle with.

She intends to carefully introduce you two. She can’t say she’s shocked when you start fawning over the horse the moment you meet him anyway, but she gapes when the notoriously vindictive beast starts nuzzling into you.

“A fearsome warhorse indeed,” you tease. Sully swears you’ll be the death of her one of these days.

Once you and the horse bond a little more, Sully takes you on rides. You wrap your arms tightly around her, pressing against her back as she steers through meadows and gentle hills. You can’t see her face from this angle, but thanks to her cropped hair, the bright blush painting her ears is plainly visible.

She’s not sure how you’re able to turn a rough-and-tumble Shepherd like her into a bashful mess so easily, but she loves every moment of it.