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versadies · 2 years

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this time (alhaitham x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. this time (part two of next time)

ADDRESSED. alhaitham (w/ gn!reader)

STAMP. in which things have never been the same since your lover found you after you’ve been kidnapped, and tries to win your heart once more as well as for your forgiveness. (this is mostly on alhaitham’s pov after saving you)

CONTENT. angst/with-comfort, slight spoilers to sumeru archon quest (3.2), mentions of kidnapping, mentions of violence, reader now has a vision and is slightly traumatized, grammar errors, ooc alhaitham (only skimmed through his lore while writing this fic)

POST-SCRIPT. yipeeee it’s finally done !! special thanks to @crowbird who sent an ask about this fic, it’s acc what i was going for as well (but ive made reader suffered enough so i didnt go all out)

LINKS. masterlist \ taglist

How long has it been since Alhaitham has been waiting outside of Bimarstan?

He couldn’t recall, but neither did he care about that. What he cares more is what’s happening inside the hospital where you’re currently treated.

As soon as Alhaitham’s done with his part on the mission, he didn’t waste any time to start looking for you, his heart beating faster than ever from his worries of what the Akademiya has done to you.

Whatever they did, he hoped that you were okay.

With the help of Cyno and some of his friends, he managed to find out that you’re located in the desert, but not in a state he had hoped he’d find you in.

It took him two days until he finally found you in an abandoned hospital, only to see you standing in the middle of the room with a hollow look on your face, surrounded by fallen eremites and other people who are working for Azar–

Not to mention.. A vision in your hand, one that holds the symbol of anemo.

What happened?

Alhaitham paid no mind to the unconscious bodies on the ground, his focus is on you – who remains unaware that you have other company besides your captors.

“...( Name )?” He cautiously called out.

You immediately turn around when you heard a familiar voice, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of your lover standing not too far away from you, his weapon in hand–

Oh gods, what have you done?

It begins to dawn on you when you realize what you just did, causing you to start breathing heavily. “I… I didn’t mean to–” You look down at your shaking hands with wide eyes, “I didn’t mean to knock them– th-they tried to take me away, to some… to some guy who goes by the Doctor and I-I was so scared, I was freaking out and, and one of them was about to hit me and suddenly everyone’s jus–”

You find yourself falling onto your knees with a sob, the fear and anxiety you tried to hide for the past two days as you were pushed and dragged through the sand and heat slowly started to come out in the open.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” were all the words you could muster at the moment, not noticing how Alhaitham starts walking towards you.

It was only when you felt something warm beginning to wrap around you when you realized your lover’s hugging you in a comfort embrace, causing you to let out a shaky gasp.

“I don’t care what you did to them,” Alhaitham tells you, his heart shattering at the sight of you being frightened with yourself, “I’m just glad you’re okay now. You’re safe, ( Name ).”

He closes his eyes shut, not intending to let you go just yet. “I’m… I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for leaving you. I regretted leaving you out of the dark with what I was doing and… I just wanted to keep you safe, but it seems it only made things dangerous for you instead.”

You couldn’t help but be taken back from how his words sounded so sincere, so genuine – you knew how your lover is with these kinds of things, so you knew just how much he means it when he apologized.

You couldn’t help but break into tears.

“It hurts so much…” You hiccuped, hugging him back as you sob. “I thought… I thought I did something wrong that made you–”

Your breath hitches when he holds onto you tighter. “This is never your fault. It’s mine alone for never considering how this would affect us badly. You’ve been nothing but an amazing person in my life and I took it for granted.” He said, angrier with his foolish self for making you feel this way for all this time.

“I… When I found out that they took you, I felt like I.. I’ve...” He struggles to find the right words to tell you just how scared he was when he found out about you being held captive by the Akademiya.

He relaxes when you start moving your arms around him. “I know..” You whispered reassuringly, as though you read his mind. “Just take me back, ‘Haitham.”

–

“Mr. Alhaitham?” Alhaitham’s thoughts are cut away when he hears the familiar voice of the doctor who took charge of healing you, causing him to stand up when he sees him walking out from the door.

“How’s ( Name )?” The scribe asks.

“They’re doing well. They just need more food, water, and plenty of rest and they’ll be okay. Though, we need to keep them under our watch for the rest of the week to check up on their major injuries now and then.” Zakariya then let out a sigh. “I just can’t believe their captors are heartless enough to not feed them well, not to mention the injuries inflicted on them. It was fortunate enough that you’re able to find them before things could’ve gone worse for your lover.”

Alhaitham’s heart feels broken once more when he hears about your condition, making him all the more angry that he wasn’t fast enough to find you (and the fact that Azar and his pathetic followers’ punishments aren’t enough).

“May I visit them now?” He asks.

The doctor nods in response. “I believe so. They were looking for you when they woke up.”

That was enough for Alhaitham to immediately come inside the hospital (not without thanking Zakariya, of course) and visit you, bringing your favorite meal that he made beforehand as well as flowers.

It reminded him of back when he was on his way to take you out on your first date together, with him always fixing his outfit (despite the fact that you’ve seen him wear it everyday) and checking if he has everything – as though he was a bit nervous.

By the time he eventually arrives to where you are, you notice his presence immediately, causing you to turn away from the view of your window and look at your lover.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, not knowing what to say.

Alhaitham decides to break the silence. “...How are you?”

“...Never been better, I suppose.” You respond quietly, looking down at your hands. “I mean, my lover’s finally talking to me after so long and I’m no longer blind and tied up for two days straight; not to mention how I didn’t kill anyone when I received my vision so… that’s good.” He winces from your words.

You then look up to where he is. “I can’t… forgive you so easily for what you’ve done as much as it sounds selfish of me.” You confessed.

Alhaitham shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I expected you to not forgive me straight away.” He says reassuringly. “All I ask is if you could give me a chance to make everything up. Let me make up for the time we lost.”

You frowned. “Then what? Will you suddenly get busy again and ignore me for the next few months? A year maybe?”

“I won’t repeat what happened last time.” He said. “Not when it almost cost me to lose you.”

Your eyes soften. “I’m too scared to take the risk and experience the same thing all over again.” Deep down, you were touched when you heard from your nurse that your lover did everything he could to find you and get you back, as well as how he waited for a long long time until he was allowed to come inside the hospital and see you again – without reading a book even.

But you knew that you can’t just let what he did slide so easily.

“Trust me. Just one last time.” Alhaitham asks, almost in a desperate way. “If I mess up again, and I’ll make sure I won’t, then you can leave me.” He wanted to come closer to you, to sit down on the edge of the bed and place his hands on your wrapped hands in a reassuring way, but he didn’t want to overstep your boundaries. “If you still want to leave me without a chance, then that’s alright.”

You quietly think about what to do. As much as you’re heartbroken that your lover had ignored you for such a long time, you still unfortunately love that man, but you can’t forgive him just yet.

You let out a sigh. “I’ll give you one month to make it all up to me, then I’ll decide if I leave.” You said, causing his shoulders to relax.

“I won’t let you down, ( Name ).” He declares with confidence.

You smile lightly, now noticing the things he’s been holding throughout the whole conversation. “You do know that giving me my favorite food and my favorite flowers today isn’t enough to make me forgive you, right?”

Alhaitham hums. “I’m aware. I’m guessing that the hospital didn’t give you any food that you’re craving, so I thought about making it for you before I visit.”

You know he was right, although the hospital did give you food to eat, it didn’t match the sweet taste of the ones you’ve been longing to eat, such as the foods that your lover always cooks for you whenever he can just for you.

“Pretty sure they cooked better than you though.” You joked.

His lips slightly move upward. “Oh? Won’t you try and see if you’re right then?”

You scoot over a little, a small invitation for him to finally come up to you. “Only if you hand-feed me.” You said, thinking he’d refuse and make you eat it yourself.

To your surprise however, you underestimated just how much that man loves you.

“If that’s what you wish then.” Without hesitation, he instantly comes up to your bed and sits down next to you, putting your flowers next to your bed and unpacked your meal (you didn’t bother to point out how he looked so eager to do so).

As you eat your meal that he made, you can’t help but reminisce about the times when he used to do this to you. Particularly when you get sick and he has to take care of you, something that he always reassures you that he’s completely okay with it and willing to do it as long as it’s for you.

“I’ll have to cook meals for you everyday then if it makes you that happy.” He suddenly says as he feeds you, making you realize that you’ve been smiling the entire time. “What do you say about curry shrimp tomorrow when I visit here?”

“You’re going to visit here again?” You ask in a surprised tone. “Don’t you have things to do with the Akademiya?”

“Even in different situations, I’d still put everything down just to take care of you.” Alhaitham explains. “Don’t worry about my duties in the Akademiya, I’m sure they’ll be doing alright without my presence for a while.”

You hummed. “Alright then.”

–

Alhaitham is one dedicated man, you’d admit.

Everyday, he’d always come and visit you with a meal in hand, as well as things that could make you no longer be bored from lying down on the hospital bed all day. On some days, the two of you would play TCG (with Cyno, Kaveh and Tighnari whenever they visit you), read books together silently, listen to music together with his music player that he personally made when he first became the scribe, and even take a stroll around the street together.

You’re still reluctant with his company, but nevertheless, you didn’t feel uncomfortable from it.

Of course, there were other things you’d do whenever Alhaitham is away. Sometimes you’d be found helping the doctors and nurses taking care of the patients, taking care of all the flowers he gifted you, and so on.

Your injuries were slowly getting better, much to everyone’s relief, and you were no longer as shaken up as before from the incident that happened on the day Alhaitham found you.

Not that he asked you about it. Now that you think about it, not a single person dared to ask what happened to you during your kidnapping, nor did anyone ask how you got your anemo vision, excluding some clueless people who were unaware of what happened to you.

Cyno did a good job in making sure that it looked like the eremites and Azar’s subordinates were ambushed by him and Alhaitham and not you, not wanting you to get in trouble for simply defending yourself from your captors. You’re grateful that he never questioned you about what happened.

It was hard to get used to the vision that reminded you of what happened, but with your friends’ help, you managed to slowly live with it as well as learn how to use it to protect yourself better.

By the time you were released from the hospital, you’re surprised that Alhaitham’s still continuing to do the same thing he’s been doing for the past week.

During your meals, it was Alhaitham who’s been doing the cooking instead of you, with Kaveh whining about why he doesn’t get the same treatment. He also made sure to always kiss you goodbye before he sets off to tend to his duties in the Akademiya, something that you missed for so long.

For someone who has an unpredictable schedule, he always makes sure to make time for you, for what is freedom if he can’t enjoy it without you?

Slowly and surely, you begin to forgive him and find yourself smiling every now and then.

Sure, he’d sometimes come back home late, but it was never like last time. Sure, he’d sometimes be too focused on his work in his office, but it was never like last time. Unlike last time, you finally feel like you’re living with a lover and not a stranger.

Whenever you could, the two of you would go out in the woods and train your skills with your vision, something you’re grateful for since using a vision isn’t as easy as you thought it would be.

The kidnapping still haunted you with nightmares that made you lose sleep as well as some things that reminded you of it, but with Alhaitham, you feel less scared and more comforted from him, who always made sure to stay by your side and be with you when you needed it.

He’s more considerate than before, you’d admit.

Of course, you made sure to show your gratitude by visiting Alhaitham in his office in the Akademiya like you usually did before, secretly surprised with how he’s always found in his office despite the fact that he’s usually everywhere but there (it’s as if he’s been anticipating you to visit him), and give him a meal that you made before going your way to the Grand Bazaar.

Until one day, Alhaitham requested you something.

“When you come and visit me at the Akademiya…” You slowly waited for him to tell you to not come there, only for your eyes to widen at his next words. “...Do make sure to bring two meals so we can eat together.”

You processed what he just said to you. “You mean… eat our meals together? You and me?”

He nodded in response, looking as though he’s unbothered with what he said. “Who else if not you?”

You try to hide your smile before obliging his request. “I’ll keep it in mind then.”

Since then, you find yourself eating your meal with your lover whenever you come and visit.

You never dared to point out how his lunchbox is always clean and empty whenever he’s done with it.

Sometimes if time allows it, he’d also visit the Grand Bazaar to watch you perform on stage with Nilou, who’s shocked to see the scribe himself – especially with a fascinated look on his face as he watches you perform.

After your performance, Nilou couldn’t help but carefully ask him about his presence in a place such as the Grand Bazaar.

The man could only huff. “Am I not allowed to support my lover?” He comments. “Don’t mind my presence and go enjoy what you love just like what I’m doing right now.”

“Watching your lover?” She questioned quietly, looking back at where you are, who’s currently helping one of your colleagues with another task. “You must really love ( Name ), huh?”

“Not just love.” He clarifies, crossing his arms. “They’re my freedom and eternal oasis.”

Nilou feels touched by the scribe’s words. She could see now why you’re so willing to give him another chance.

“( Name ) feels the same way, if you’re wondering.” She said with a soft smile. “I hope you’ll continue to make them happy like they are now. It’s been so long since the Grand Bazaar’s last seen ( Name ) being this happy.”

“I’ll make sure of that.” Alhaitham assures the woman, his eyes softening at the sounds of you laughing at whatever your colleague told you. “I’ll make sure they’ll be happy, even if we’re no longer together like now.”

Even when you’re still hesitant to forgive him in fear that it’ll happen again, Alhaitham is willing to wait for you and prove to you that he won’t do the same thing ever again no matter how long it takes.

Just like how you waited for him to come home when he was nothing but distant, he’s willing to wait for you the same way.

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @aintafraidtolove

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x gn reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham x gn reader #alhaitham angst #genshin angst #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin angst/comfort

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heavenlyraindrops · 6 months

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♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Two♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Two Warnings: profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Two]

“[name]!”

You turned your head, before seeing Emily racing towards you to tackle you to the ground in a hug. You laughed, although it came out as more of a wheeze under her crushing grip, and hugged back. She raised her head, eyes watery.

“Adam said you disappeared,” she said, and the barely restrained fury at him was evident in her voice, which dropped to an incredulous whisper. “Where were you? What happened? Sera’s mad as hell-“

“He didn’t leave me,” you managed to crack a reassuring smile, and Emily’s shoulders drooped at your next words, “I flew off.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he neglected his responsibility. And, frankly, ignored my direct orders to keep you safe.”

You raised your head to see Sera, her forehead creased in a stressed frown. “Come with me to my office.” She began to turn, then paused, eyebrows pulling right down, deepening her frown. “Is that blood on your clothes?”

You glanced down. The dark patches seemed to be covered with a thin gilded sheen. “I-it’s nothing, really,” you babbled, scrambling to wipe it off, only to see most of it had dried.

Sera didn’t seem convinced.

Emily pulled you up before you followed them hesitantly, the confusion on her face at the situation evident, even though she was smiling at you nervously. You gulped.

Charming.

♱♱♱

“So, to be clear, you let [name] fly off and put herself in harm's way even though she has no experience as an exterminator?” Sera turned from Adam to you. “[name], this is only a one time thing. You are most certainly not accompanying the exterminators down to Hell next year. After Adam has proven how neglectful he is-“

“No,” you gasped, the words flying out your mouth without you even thinking about them.

The entire room seemed to freeze.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and continued, more gently. “No, it wasn’t his fault. See, what happened was-“ you glanced over at where Adam was seated next to you. He raised an eyebrow, face flat, and you swallowed. Your throat felt like a desert.

“I flew off,” you continued. “He went after me, I mean, he really tried I swear. But I shook him off and ended up tearing my wing on a branch, hence the blood- he found me a while later and healed me up. The wound wasn’t too serious. It only broke some skin, and- and, I could still fly. We just lost each other in the crowd going back up to the Pentagram is all.”

What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? You could almost feel the beads of sweat forming on your brow as you smiled at her stiffly.

Sera turned and looked at Adam, waiting for his confirmation. He looked over at you, grinning wide. You pointedly stared back, which wasn’t necessary- he didn’t miss a beat. “Yup. That’s what happened. I was tryna tell ya the whole time and you guys just weren’t listening.”

“Please let me go next year, Sera,” you pleaded, eyes widening. She chewed her lip, contemplating, as you continued. “I was perfectly fine. And I may not be an experienced exterminator, but you know more than well enough I can hold my own against a couple of mere sinners.” You shot a look at Adam.

”Yeah, [name]’s powerful as fuck-“

“I wouldn’t say powerful-“ you began, but was cut off by Sera.

“You’re far too modest, [name],” Sera smiled at you tiredly. “And what you said seems to add up. I know you’d never lie to me-“ she side-eyed Adam, who didn’t notice, continuing to pick at his nails. “-Or to anyone, for that matter. Yes, you may go again next year if you wish.”

You looked at the ground. “Thank you, Sera,” you said, your own voice ringing small in your ears.

♱♱♱

“Jeez, sugartits, I didn’t think I’ve ever heard you lie before,” Adam smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You glared at him in fury, before jabbing a finger at his chest. You were both in a hallway, Sera’s office door at the end of the corridor where you had come from.

“Watch it, Adam,” you hissed, then took a deep breath, calming yourself down. “I did it for you, so be grateful.”

“…thanks.”

You smiled at him. “No problem.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments, before Adam spoke.

“Are we gonna fuck right now?”

“No!” You hissed, exasperated, feeling your face burn. “No, we are not. Here’s what is gonna happen, Adam. Next extermination, you’re gonna let me fly off by myself, mind your own business, and not tell Sera, and if you don’t do that, I’ll blab and tell them everything. And then they’ll hate you forever.”

He stared at you for a second, blankly. You gulped, your blood pounding in your ears. Crap. Dumb idea-

Adam finally raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to go off sneaking around Hell during the extermination, sugartits? Got a secret?”

“Most certainly not,” you snapped. “I simply want to explore Hell alone.”

Adam stared at you for a moment. “You never say what’s on your fuckin’ mind, do ya, sugartits? You always gotta water it down to be nice. If I annoy the shit outta you, just say that.”

Your gaze softened, then you shook your head and stared at your feet. “I’m not a mean person.”

“Not mean if it’s the truth.” He shrugged. You looked back up at him. He was wearing that familiar, shit-eating grin again. You huffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at the pristine floor.

“Sure. Well, some people have a filter.”

“Meh. Whatever.”

“So, will you do what I asked you to do?”

Yeah, I’ll do what you want.”

“Wait really?” You stared at him.

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. Do what you want, you saved my ass from a three hour lecture back in there anyways.”

You watched him walk away until he rounded a corner and disappeared, shocked at his nonchalance, and then pressed your back to the wall and sank down, head in your hands.

Did you seriously lie to the Seraphim just to be able to go back to Hell next year? Why? Why?

Was it because of- no way. Don’t be ridiculous. You knew Lucifer had the quality of being ‘tempting’, from what the Bible said, at least, but there was no way you were being led to temptation from a small interaction with absolutely no ‘tempting’ aspects to it. Whatsoever.

Hell is a nice break from Heaven. And it’s interesting to see what it’s like. I’m just curious is all…

You stared at your hands, mind flashing back to something Sera had said a while ago.

Curiosity killed the cat.

“[name]?”

You looked up. Sera was staring down at you. “Are you alright?”

You cursed internally, your heart almost leaping out of your throat. “Yes, Sera, I’m just… thinking.”

“Perhaps I could help?”

You studied her face. It was wearing the specific, reserved look she wore for when she was suspicious but didn’t want to show it. You smiled and shook your head.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I ate this morning that could make my stomach hurt this much.”

Sera’s face relaxed, nodding. You knew that she wouldn’t believe that you’d lie to her. You knew it would be easy to squash her suspicions.

“Well,” Sera said, “Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded smiled weakly again, watching her steady, deliberate steps as she disappeared around the corner, then hung your head again, sighing.

You prayed you weren’t digging yourself into a hole.

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel

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anxiety-pickle · 4 months

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Jade + Aventurine analysis bc you guys can't read

A somewhat pretentious analysis of Jade and Aventurine by your friendly local neuroscience major (with receipts) (I am putting my academic knowledge to good uses obviously)

Let’s recap what we know about Aventurine

He is, insofar as he’s aware, the last surviving member of the Avgin people of Sigonia

Is he actually the last member? It’s unclear, but the IPC seems to think so (which will become relevant later)

The genocide of his people occured on the day of the Kakava festival, his birthday, by the Katicans, an opposing clan of the Avgins. Both the Katicans and the Avgins were exiled to the desert because of the fighting. The assorted clans of Sigonia were not willing to protect the Avgin people, and they knew that if they were to be let inside the city, the Katicans would follow

The origin of their fighting is uncertain. It is implied that none of the clans got along well. (Aventurine’s second character stor)

Why did the genocide happen? Because of the Katicans and the IPC

But wait!! I hear you yell, didn’t you just say the Katicans are the ones who killed the Avgins?

And to that I say, yes! I did! But the IPC is still the reason they died. During the 2.1 story, All the Sad Tales, during the cutscene with Kakavasha and his sister right before the massacre.

“Little do the katicans know, this time we will fight back! The men in black that descend from the skies are on our side. The Katicans stand no chance against them…” (Kakavasha’s Sister)

This means that the Avgin people only decided to fight back because the IPC told them that they’d protect them, which they clearly did not do

The IPC also had a financial motive for getting rid of the Avgin people (and the Katicans, though that’s not relevant to the discussion)

We can see in Aventurine’s character story I, “And let’s not forget the letters from the councilors of the Sigonian Sovereignty. They denounce his tribe for once breaking arrangements and sowing discord… resulting in repeated delays in the signing of agreements between Sigonia and IPC.”

The IPC therefore had a very clear motive for deceiving the Avgin people and allowing them to enter a fight unprepared

To make matters worse, the IPC, the hub for technological advancement, medical discoveries, etc, could not save a single person? Not a single man, woman, or child could be saved? Forgive me if I find that unbelievable

“The clan launched a massive attack on the Avgin… who were under the protection of the IPC, resulting in 6,728 deaths and 3,452 missing.”

So… around 4,000 people were missing…? This brings me to my second concern:

The Katicans do not particularly strike me as the type of people who take prisoners - their goal is clearly to exterminate the Avgins

4,000 missing individuals implies that either

1) The IPC did not give a single fuck and simply decided not to search for them (didn’t bother collecting their bodies, tracking down the Katicans who took them, giving them proper burials, etc), or,

2) The IPC DOES know where they are, and decided to mark them as missing persons

As far as real-world tragedies go, I am not inclined in the slightest to give the IPC any benefits of the doubt. These are the same guys who nuked Boothill’s planet. And are currently extorting Belobog. And canonically forced Topaz’s planet into indentured servitude (and were likely going to try the same with Belobog). We don’t even know the full extent of the damage they’ve caused, honestly, and I don’t think we ever will.

After the genocide, there is an unspecified period of time between Kakavasha’s escape and his enslavement. The ‘indifferent man’ in his quest calls him a “scrawny brat”, so he was probably a teenager/young adult at that time. It’s unclear what his history was prior to that point, however we do know:

Indifferent male: “The guys in black didn’t say much…”

…the guys in black? As in, the IPC? Those are the EXACT WORDS that Kakavasha calls the IPC workers multiple times throughout the quest

It also means that he bought him from the IPC

So, at the VERY LEAST one department of the IPC was involved in human trafficking

It would make sense if the IPC had somehow captured him at some point, as he would’ve been like. An unsupervised 7yo in the desert. And of course, upon realizing someone survived the massacre, decides to ‘maximize profit’, for lack of a better word

It’s unclear to me currently why the case of Kakavasha tricking the IPC and the Intelligentsia guild is called the “Eghazyo Aventurine case” because this would have happened before Kakavasha became Aventurine, unless this is a mistake or mistranslation. The voiceover seemed to imply that the name of the case was aired during the time that Kakavasha was testifying, so I doubt that it’s called the Aventurine case because Kakavasha became Aventurine

Another option I’ve seen is that ‘indifferent male’ is the previous Aventurine, which I can’t confirm or deny, though it seems likely

Only thing that doesn’t make sense to me is that if he was the previous Aventurine, why would he call his fellow IPC workers “men in black?” Does anyone know if there are other instances of IPC workers calling each other this?

Aventurine is forced, by ‘indifferent male’ to kill 34 other slaves. He essentially Hunger Games’d 35 people. It’s also implied that it was broadcasted, because other people were betting on it and were making comments about he “looked good”.

At some point, Aventurine manages to trick the IPC and Intelligentsia guild into believing that the remains of Tazzyronth (or the Sand King) are buried in the unclaimed Sigonian desert, costing the IPC billions of dollars and eventually killing the man who bought him (rightfully so)

After that point, he’s taken to trial before Jade, where he strikes a deal: he gets off death row if he proves to be a good investment

Now, let me make myself clear: Jade did not save Aventurine from shit. Aventurine got himself out of a horrible situation by any means he had available to him, and those means happened to involve leveraging his situation and putting his life on the line to prove to Jade he was a worthy investment. I’ve seen people try to argue that ‘joining the IPC is what Aventurine wanted’ but I think this is a shallow and disingenuous argument because it removes the context of his decision entirely. He did that because he felt cornered, and then, presumably, because he hoped he could use the power within the IPC to protect other Avgin people (which is why he asks after them in his character story). I also saw people saying that Aventurine deserved to be on trial…. Which is certainly an interesting opinion. Mind you, the man who Aventurine killed was responsible for the deaths of 34+ people and was actively buying human beings on the black market, so as far as I’m concerned killing him was an act of public good.

A few more things to clear up about this situation:

In the IPC broadcast about the Eghazyo Aventurine case, it conveniently leaves out that Aventurine was enslaved, probably because that could influence public opinion; additionally, I think the erasure of the whole ‘slave’ thing was just to cover their own ass because they knew that shit wouldn’t fly

Aventurine was not ‘in control’ of this situation; too many of you don’t understand what coercion is and that scares the hell out of me. He killed that man because that was the only way he could be free, and after that the IPC sentenced him to death. It isn’t a choice when your only other option is death. It baffles me that people think this.

Jade does not give a single fuck about Aventurine beyond what he provides to the IPC because she cannot conceptualize relationships or the value of human life outside of a transactional purpose, which tracks with her being a debt collector…

Jade literally says, and I quote, “A servant should obey his master”. For the people in the back, A SERVANT SHOULD OBEY HIS MASTER. Who the fuck says that. Even if she isn’t personally involved with whatever human trafficking the IPC has going on (which I seriously doubt she isn’t at least aware of, given her rank), she sympathizes with a literal slave owner over his victim which is genuinely insane.

Something also incredibly important: Aventurine had no legal defense

Like… none at all? I’m not overly familiar with the US legal system, but even in this case I feel like there would be some kind of self-defense justification. Like. He bought people. On the black market. And then made them kill each other. I don’t think killing him warrants a death sentence for Kakavasha (especially one that holds over once he’s a Stoneheart)

This extreme overreaction on behalf of the IPC probably also has something to do with him not having an ‘interastral refugee travel permit’ (mentioned in the first broadcast message during All the Sad Tales) which also begs the question what in the godamn fuck is an interastral refugee travel permit. I can only assume that the IPC is handing out these ‘travel permits’.... Which also means that they are directly responsible (for the sole survivor of a genocide THEY caused) not having one

The fact that the legal system is structured like this does not surprise me at all. It was stacked against him from the beginning and we need to stop pretending this was a power play on Aventurine’s part rather than a desperate last ditch attempt at some form of freedom

Additionally, Aventurine’s banner is literally called “gilded imprisonment” and his light cone is called “inherently unjust destiny” like they literally could not make it more obvious. He just exchanged his old shackles for shinier ones :/

Something else I’d like to point out: Penacony has a grand overarching theme of “a cage is still a cage”; in fact, Himeko says that verbatim in 2.2! I think that’s also important to consider when looking at this situation.

Also, Aventurine also feels so little autonomy that he was literally willing to kill himself to escape. Like full stop kill himself. His future self tells him that “death” is the only real freedom he will ever experience, and I think that alone demonstrates that the IPC has done nothing more but lengthened his leash. I don’t think it’s fair at all to claim that any of this is what he “wanted” or that he’s like. Enjoying himself. Because 2.1 makes it so abundantly clear that he’s fucking miserable. Like you’re aware that this is still coercion right. What do you think happens if he stops performing well? What do you think the IPC will do to him if he is no longer producing money for them? Quickly. Look me in my eyes

Now onto the elephant in the room: Jade herself

Personally I find her character design gross fetish-bait, but to each their own I guess. It’s not really my business if you like her character for whatever reason. I’m not saying that you can’t enjoy her character, but I do think people should be examining their reasons for liking her a little more closely. Or at the very least not making jokes about slavery. That is very strange.

I’ve seen a lot of people say that we should reserve judgment for what her character is like until after she’s out; I disagree. I think we have everything we need. (This is coming from someone who could see Aventurine’s backstory from a mile away and predicted it in 2.0. So far my track record is unblemished but if you don’t want to take my word for it I have evidence).

Let’s take a look at her eidolons:

E1: Altruism? Nevertheless Tradable

E2: Morality? Herein Authenticated

E3: Honesty? Soon Mortgaged

E4: Sincerity? Put Option Only

E5: Hope? Hitherto Forfeited

E6: Equity? Pending Sponsorship

That’s a mouthful, right?

Eidolons are supposed to be the truest reflection of one’s soul and provide us information on the character themself. All of her eidolons reference a kind of transactional relationship - in which she evaluates concepts like altruism, morality, and honesty on a scale of how much worth she can drag out of them. This is consistent with what we’ve seen from her character so far. I find the specific statements ‘Hope? Hitherto Forfeited’ and ‘Equity? Pending Sponsorship’ to be… so sinister lmao. Like she is straight up saying the quiet part out loud. Now let’s compare her eidolons to Aventurine’s:

Aventurine’s E1: Prisoner’s Dilemma.

The Prisoner’s Dilemma game theory wherein two people, separated, must cooperate for mutual benefit, or betray their partner for an individual reward. This perfectly reflects Aventurine and Ratio’s plan in 2.1, and goes to emphasize the importance of trust that Aventurine has.

Aventurine’s E4: The Unexpected Hanging Paradox

At first inspection, the ‘unexpected hanging paradox’ appears to be a regular thought experiment, but actually has to do heavily with probability. The Unexpected Hanging Paradox entails a situation where a criminal is sent to death, however the Judge does not tell the prisoner which day he will be executed on, only that the executioner should ‘surprise him’ over the course of the next week. The prisoner therefore concludes that he will not be executed because it will be impossible to surprise him based on a game of probability. This directly references Aventurine’s experience in court both as Kakavasha, on trial for murder, and when he confronts Sunday.

We can see here that eidolons are absolutely reflective of character goals, intentions, and thoughts. Jade’s eidolons are based entirely on a manipulative, exploitative worldview. Whether or not her worldviews include herself are up for interpretation at this point, but it’s obvious to me that she sees Aventurine as an investment and not a person. The first thing she comments when she sees Aventurine is how pretty his eyes are - immediately assigning material value to his body, which is especially gross considering she is well aware that he was enslaved.

Then, at the end of 2.2, she makes another cameo - and Aventurine does not seem to receive her well. Understandably so. He mentions wanting to “escape her” during his phone call, providing us with insight into his framework and how he perceives her. He literally uses the word ‘escape’. He does NOT like her. Jade proceeds to call him “child”, which I interpret as at least partially demeaning. She also didn’t seem to care at all when she thought he died in 2.1, so I’m not really sure where anyone got the idea that they were close.

As another note on Jade’s character design before I wrap up, I personally find it extremely uncomfortable that she has a whip. Again, I’m not going to tell anyone that you can’t enjoy her character, but there are definitely some extremely strange undertones that hyv is leaning into that I really don’t appreciate. I also think the greater reception of Jade’s character deserves its own post because I don’t even know where to start with that.

So, giving Jade EVERY benefit of the doubt, we can conclude that she: she ONLY knows about the enslavement - but has no personal ties - and does not care, does not appear to care that her colleagues were participating in human trafficking (specifically seemed more put-off about the lack of revenue than the various human rights violations, which makes sense because she doesn’t seem to care about any of the other human rights violations, such as nuking planets, either), would have had no problem sentencing him to death had he not been a company asset, implied that slavery is good, claimed that she didn’t know why Aventurine would kill the person who owned him because it ‘didn’t benefit him’, is participating in the repossession of Penacony by the IPC, is a debt collector (derogatory), did not gaf that her colleague was going on a suicide mission, and did not gaf when her colleague presumably died.

Footnote: Before you start, no disliking Jade but liking Aventurine is not misogynistic (and that accusation is, in itself, misogynistic), yes, it is disingenuous to claim that Aventurine was not coerced, it is also disingenuous to claim that the IPC had no knowledge of the human trafficking, yes you can still like her. Idgaf. And stop making jokes about racism and slavery, it’s weird and I think your brain should be studied in a lab so that doctors can determine what is wrong with you

In conclusion:

Media literacy is dead and the hsr fandom killed it.

#hsr #hsr jade #hsr aventurine #i hate it here #i should've known better than to get into another hyv fandom

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miloformula123fan · 8 months

Note

PART 2 OF THE LOGAN SISTER FIC PLEASE

okay, I know this is short, and yes part 3 is coming and yes it is angsty but I need to get it done

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist, anyone tagged is just people who asked for a second part :)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

part 1 is here

part 3 is here

george russell x sargeant!reader

---

“SO YOU’RE TELLING ME OUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP WAS A LIE GEORGE.”

“No, no, it wasn’t. Y/N, you have to understand…-”

“UNDERSTAND WHAT? THAT YOU TREATED MY BROTHER LIKE A HUMAN BEING JUST SO I WOULD FUCK YOU? OUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP WAS BASED ON YOUR KINDNESS WHICH WAS A LIE! WHY, WHY WOULD YOU FUCK MY BROTHER OVER LIKE THAT JUST TO WIN A GIRL?” she took a deep breath ‘I’m done.’

“What? What do you mean, you’re done.”

She looked won, took another deep breath and looked George in the eyes. ‘I meant, I’m done george. I’m done with this relationship. I’m finished. I can’t forgive you after learning that our relationship was based on you treating my brother like a decent human being, and you planning on winning me over ike that. Well congratulations it worked. And now you’re back to treating my brother like absolute shit, because you finally got the girl. Congratulations. If you want to ‘win me back’, then maybe start with treating my brother like a human being again. But you’ll have to do more than that, Russell.’

And she walked out. George put his head in his hands. He’d signed so many NDAs, you would’ve thought he wouldn’t have left his laptop open and unlocked, particularly with Logan coming over. He really should remember to close his old files. Particularly when your girlfriend, no ex-girlfriend, had looked through your old powerpoints and found an old presentation he’d made to alex about how he was planning on wooing y/n. With the first slide being ‘treat logan nicely.’ and yeah maybe after he’d started dating y/n, his priority to include everyone had fallen behind.

And yeah, Logan was nice. He had learnt that after many morning jogs and coffees and dinners and hanging out after races. He still remembers how scared he had been a year ago, when he had first officially met Y/N.

“Well, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesn’t understand why you don’t like him. He’s lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.”

And he had. Or at least he had tried. And Logan had really warmed up to him and started participating in the driver evenings, but George always visited his house, partly for the runs, partly because his trainer was less strict and he could make a better breakfast at Logan’s, and maybe partially for the hope that Logan’s sister would rock up.

And then she had. And logan had still been asleep. And she obviously still was a professional athlete so she had been more than willing to do a run with him. And then have breakfast when Logan had finally stumbled out of his bedroom. And then get her phone number

And then yeah maybe he had deserted Logan, assuming he now had enough interaction with the rest of the grid to be okay.

Until Logan had called Y/N last night, asking her to come over because it turned out the grid had gone to dinner without him, and he was feeling a little hurt. And she had promised to once George got home, and then she had absolutely laid into him. And now she was gone, presumably to Logan’s and George didn’t know what to do.

---

taglist: @folklorsweet @the-untamed-soul @thatgirlmj @cstads-blog

#f1 fic #miloformula123fan #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant x you #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell x you

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mochegato · 3 months

Text

Devil of the Narrows

Marinette burst through the door, pulling a bubbling Adrien behind her. “So smart. So sexy. That dress…” he paused to picture it and got lost for a few seconds. “My heart can’t handle it.”

“Go on,” Marinette purred, “tell me more.”

Out of the fog filled abyss, a deep voice floated toward them. “I would very much appreciate if you didn’t.”

Marinette let out a small scream and jumped away from the ledge just a bit further than Adrien who jumped then immediately lowered into a defensive position and glared at the edge, prepared for whatever came over the side. When nothing happened for a few long seconds, they looked at each other apprehensively and back to the edge, not wanting to take their eyes off the threat for too long.

Finally, Adrien bobbed his head toward the door back to the building and safety, but Marinette scrunched her nose and removed her shoe, wielding it like a bat as she inched toward the edge of the building. Adrien groaned quietly, dropping his head back in annoyance, but followed her grudgingly. If she was going to try to threaten someone with a shoe, the least she could do was have a stiletto on, at the very least a platform shoe, something with a bit of weight or a sharp heel, not a flat.

When they got to the ledge, he held up three fingers, slowly lowering them one at a time until they were all dropped and they poked their heads over the edge, freezing at the sight. Whatever they were expecting to see on the other side of the ledge, a man, clearly one of the vigilantes, sitting back against a rather macabre looking gargoyle and eating a burger was not it.

Alya would never forgive Marinette for not knowing which of the vigilantes it was. He was obviously one of the bats, because there was a rather large red bat splayed across his broad, armored chest. She just couldn’t tell which one it was. There were like twenty of them. It was hard to keep track.

What she could tell was he was easily as large as her papa, which meant he would absolutely tower over her if he stood and could knock her out with one punch if he decided to get violent. He was probably an amazing vigilante. She couldn’t imagine anyone seeing him and wanting to continue whatever felonious activity they were committing rather than running away as quickly and cowardly as possible.

“What the f…” Adrien muttered.

“Who are you? What are you doing up here?” Marinette called out before she could stop herself.

“How did you get up here?” Adrien added, more rhetorically than actually expecting an answer.

He gave them a flat look and held up a grappling gun in one hand and his burger in the other. “Saving the day makes you hungry.” He motioned toward her with his burger. “Is that a shoe? What were you planning on doing? Cobbling me to death?”

Marinette slowly turned to her arm, seemingly as surprised as them to see it still upraised and ready to throw. She looked away as she lowered her arm, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as she lowered it and put it back on her foot. “I used what I had. It’s not like we were expecting to have to defend ourselves while on top of a skyscraper,” she grumbled. “We were expecting it to be creepy but deserted like it usually is. We were not expecting any cryptids skulking on top of buildings.”

He ran his tongue over his canine and clicked it as he studied her. “Didn't mean to disturb your make out session. But please... do not ignore me and continue. In fact, feel free to go somewhere else for that. I’d prefer you not besmirch my favorite spot and desecrate my friend to your depraved behavior.”

“We were not coming up to make out!” Marinette exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch and volume.

“Besmirch?” Adrien asked.

The man gave her an exceptionally unimpressed look and kept eye contact as he took another bite. “We weren't!” she insisted in utter affront. “We were coming up to discuss the best approach to him asking out his crush, if you must know.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked between the two of them. “I did not.”

"Interesting that you thought he did," Adrien noted, his mouth quirked up in an amused smirk.

Marinette gave him a wide-eyed, pointed look. “Shut. Up,” she hissed.

“But, just do it.” The vigilante leaned forward, bringing his face into a sliver of light cast by the roof lights. “You’re probably overthinking it. It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture or choreographed. The result is almost definitely going to be the same whether you do something over the top or simple and simple is almost always from the heart, which is usually appreciated.”

“Yes!” Marinette exclaimed. She motioned toward the vigilante. “See? I tol…” She turned back to him instantly, trying to make sure she was seeing what she thought she saw. “Are you… are you wearing a scarf as a mask?”

He leaned back into the shadows. “…Yeah. Gotta protect the identity, sweetheart.”

She continued to stare at him incredulously for a few more moments. “Who are you supposed to be? Daredevil?”

He scrunched his nose and bobbed back in surprise. “Who?”

Adrien leaned over the ledge and quirked his head to the side to check him out from a better angle. “Charlie Cox was hotter.”

She quirked her head to the side in exact imitation of Adrien to study the vigilante. After a moment she shook her head and glanced back at Adrien. “That is objectively false… but very funny.”

The vigilante leaned forward again; face scrunched in annoyance. “Who the f…” He jumped up instantly when the skyline was rocked with an explosion. “Get home,” he ordered firmly as he pulled out his grappling hook. “And ask them out. Life is short,” he added just before he jumped into the void.

><><><><><><><><><

The aftermath of the explosion kept the entire team busy for the next few days; chasing down leads, tracking henchmen, finally capturing the Penguin, returning him to Arkham again, and keeping a heavy watch on other criminals trying to take advantage of the distraction. So it was a while before he was able to return to his spot, but as soon as he settled in, full meal in hand, a voice floated over to him.

“Daredevil! You're back.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head as though his lips weren’t already quirking up in amusement. “This is my spot.”

There were a few moments of silence during which he was able to take his first bite before he looked up to meet her arched eyebrow. “I've been coming up here every night for the past few weeks. You’ve only been here once. This is not your spot.”

“I've been coming up here since I was 13,” he scoffed, cheeks puffed out from his bites of hotdog. “This is my spot.”

“That seems like you abandoned it,” she shrugged. “I found it, nurtured it. So now it's my spot.”

He narrowed his eyes and pointed his hotdog at her. “I was on a mission. And I didn't abandon it.” He motioned behind himself. “It was being watched over until I returned.”

She hummed and examined him closely, eyes skimming him over from mask to boot before returning to meet his eyes with an accepting nod. “Glad it turned out well...I guess. It was a good thing, right? Your mission helped not the jerks?”

He snorted a laugh, almost spitting out half his hotdog. “Yes. The mission was to stop some very bad guys.” He leaned toward her with a smirk. “And we succeeded.”

She smiled back but then let her gaze drift to the skyline, allowing them to sit with each other in silence, only the wind whispering between them for a while before she returned her attention to him. When he’d finished with his first hotdog, a self-satisfied grin spread across his lips. “You just going to keep staring at me? I mean if you do, I understand.”

Instead of scoffing or stuttering like he had expected, she cocked her head to the side. “I don’t understand,” she stated, motioning toward him.

He looked down at his armor and especially the bat emblem on his chest and nodded in understanding. “Not everyone understands becoming a vigilante.”

“Oh no, that I understand,” she waved him off like the assumption was ridiculous. “I mean,” she motioned toward him again, or more specifically, motioned toward his head, “it doesn’t make sense. It’s contradictory vibes. You have,” she motioned toward his suit. “And then you have,” she motioned more pointedly toward his head.

“Like,” she indicated his suit, “high tech,” she indicated his scarf, “low tech.” She pointed to his suit, “impeccably made,” his scarf, “I think the person was drunk,” his suit, “thoroughly thought out,” his scarf, “I honestly think you might have just grabbed that as you ran past some tourist.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times until he finally huffed out a breath through his nose. “I have a mask, you know.”

“You do? Where is it? Can I see it?” she demanded more than asked. She was almost jumping in excitement as she looked all around him to try to catch a glimpse of it, only settling when he held it up for her to see.

“But as you can see, it doesn’t allow for things like eating or drinking.” He looked at her from the side. “Doesn’t really facilitate conversations either.”

She couldn’t stop the eyeroll she gave him. “You’d hardly come up here if you wanted conversation.”

“Maybe I came up to converse with you.” His smile was just on the right side of teasing, infectiously so.

Marinette shook her head with a brilliant grin. “You said you’ve been coming here for years and a week ago was the only time you’ve seen me.”

“I’m an optimist,” he shrugged.

“You’re certainly something,” she chuckled as she looked away to collect herself. When she looked back at him, her gaze was curious. “I know why I come up here. I work here and the roof is the only place to get away from people. But why do you come here? Why this spot, I mean.”

His grin shone even in the dim evening. “Best gargoyle in the city right here,” he crowed, patting the gargoyle behind him. “He kept me company many a night when I was a teen. One of the best conversationalists I’ve ever met.”

She looked at him, amused by how proud he was of his gargoyle friend. “So you did come up here for a conversation after all. Should I leave so you two can get to it?”

He snickered and took a bite of his second hotdog. “He is a marvelous conversation partner and listener,” he acknowledged. “It might be hard for you to compete.”

“Not to ruin a friendship, but technically, that's a grotesque,” she corrected. Her eyes were narrowed, but her voice teasing. His eyes shot to her, lips pinched and brow scrunched in disapproval. "Gargoyles have waterspouts. That's where they got their name," she elucidated, adding in a gurgling sound to solidify her point. "No waterspout means it's a grotesque. Just a statue meant to look creepy."

He turned to look at the grotesque like it had personally betrayed him before returning attention to her. “Expert huh? That what you do? Architecture?” His voice was slightly grousey but still polite.

“No,” she acknowledged, “not an architect.”

He harumphed and finished the rest of his second hotdog in one bite. “Not an expert then. I’ll keep my faith in my friend.”

“Kind of an expert,” she shrugged as she tried to cover her snort at his boyish pout. “From Paris so I know a thing or two about gargoyles and grotesques.”

He took a large bite of fries, chewing it noisily while shooting her a heatless glare. “What do you do then?” he asked when he’d finally swallowed. “You said you work here, yeah?”

“Graphic design. I just started at an office on the 40th floor a few months ago,” she answered with a smile.

“Ahh, a tortured artist,” he nodded knowingly.

She gasped dramatically. “I'm not tortured.”

“Pixie Pop, you chose to live in Gotham,” he pointed out, his voice and look both equally flat. “You're tortured.”

“You run around in a poorly tied scarf and an attitude,” she groused. “You're tortured.”

“Never said I wasn't,” he shrugged completely unbothered as he took a long drink of his soda.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, the wind whistling quietly between them until Marinette finally broke the silence. “You lied. He’s a terrible conversationalist. Hasn’t contributed at all.”

His snicker at her comment quickly become a full blown laugh, head thrown back, eyes closed and all making him miss her amused, contented smile at his reaction. When he finally looked back at her, the portion of his face that was visible was bright. “With all your criticisms of my mask, I almost expected you to say fashion designer.”

Her smile strained slightly and her eyes slid from his to the horizon. “Once upon a time, another lifetime ago,” she answered flippantly.

He watched her, wanting desperately to get the story that was hiding there, but held himself back. He was just going to have to keep visiting her until he felt like they knew each other well enough to ask her. But until then, he needed a distraction. “How's it going with blondie? He man up and ask his crush out?”

All the light returned to her face. Her lips eased into an excited smile. “He did! They're going on a date tonight! You should have seen it. He was freaking out after she said yes. It's adorable. But he took your advice, well, our advice because I told him the same thing, but he actually listened when you said it, to just ask her out and not overthink it. Overthinking is my job. His job is to look cute. He keeps forgetting that.”

“Does he ever get upset you’re trying to take his job?” he asked before his brain caught up with his mouth.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, now wishing he still had one of his hotdogs he could shove in his mouth.

She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “I couldn’t do his job, any of the jobs he’s done. I love kids but I don’t think I could handle an entire classroom of them, and I definitely wouldn’t have been a good model.”

“Ohhh. He was actually a…” he stopped mid-word and his hand flew to his ear. “Copy. I’ll get on it. I’m only a few blocks away.” He stood and shot her a two-finger salute, “Have a good night, Pixie Pop.”

She nodded. “Be safe, Daredevil.”

He glared back at her over his shoulder, lips pursed into a thin line and maintained eye contact as he put his full face mask on with a harumph. “You too, Pixie Pop.”

><><><><><><><><><

It didn’t take her long to do the exact opposite. Less than two hours, in fact. But it wasn’t her fault. It was just Gotham. It was bound to happen eventually. And for Marinette, the inevitable happened on her walk home from work that night.

And, okay, maybe it was her fault a little bit, because she should have known better than to walk home so late at night, especially all alone. But the time with Red Hood had pushed back her work until she had to stay late to get to where she needed to be on the project. But in her defense, most muggers could see she didn’t have any money and left her alone. This one clearly wasn’t as bright as the others.

“We’re going to do this quick and easy, right, darling,” the man jeered. His knife glinted in the streetlight.

It wasn’t nearly as scary as he thought it was and she didn’t have any money on her anyway, so this was really a wasted effort on all sides. “It would have been quicker if you hadn’t started,” she droned. “Do I look like I have money?”

Her skin crawled at the leering, lingering looks he was giving her. “I can take it out in other ways.”

She wrinkled her nose and stepped back. “Ew. No.”

“It wasn’t a question.” There was a menacing curve to his lips as he slowly stalked toward her.

“And yet you got your answer,” a deep, chilling voice crept from the shadows.

The man whipped around; knife poised to attack right up until he saw who stepped out. As soon as the light hit Red Hood’s mask, the mugger held his hands up and backed away slowly. “Hey man, nothing happened. No need to…”

He tried to dart away mid-word but ended up running head first into Nightwing’s chest. “There’s definitely a need to,” Nightwing responded smugly. He grabbed the mugger by the jacket and tied him up quickly, stepping purposefully between Red Hood and the mugger. “I’ll take him in,” he said pointedly, mistaking Hood’s anger for his general hatred toward anyone who preyed on women rather than fury over the mugger having threatened this particular woman.

“You make sure the civilian gets home safe.” He didn’t bother to wait for Hood’s acknowledgement before he nodded toward Marinette and shoved the mugger toward the other end of the street. “Have a good night, ma’am.”

“Thank you!” she called after him, but she kept her eyes on Red Hood as she spoke. She continued to watch him as he examined her intently, his eyes running over her, lifting her arms to verify she wasn’t hiding anything. “I’m okay,” she promised quietly.

After a few more moments of examination, he finally released her arms and motioned for her to lead, only moving when she started walking. She snuck a peek at him from the corner of her eye until she couldn’t take the silence anymore. It wasn’t a comfortable silence. He was walking far too stiffly. “Thank you, Daredevil.”

She could hear him let out a long, tortured breath before shaking his head. But her comment had the desired effect. His whole body relaxed and eased into a lighter gait. “Not daredevil.” He might have been trying for stern but didn’t make it.

“Debatable,” she shrugged, shooting him an easy smile.

He stopped walking to turn towards her and cross his arms over his chest, almost obscuring his red bat. “It is not. And you can thank me by calling me by my name.”

“Oh, please don’t give me your real name,” she sighed in mock exasperation.

“I meant ‘Red Hood’.”

“Red Hood…” she repeated slowly like she was feeling how the name sounded on her tongue.

“Red Hood,” he confirmed.

She quirked her head back and forth a few times examining his upper body. “You call that a hood? Shouldn’t it be like Red Mask or Red Scarf?”

“No, not like…” he flustered. “Like Robin Hood.”

A dangerously excited smile spread on her lips. “Please tell me you also have one of those hats, the,” she motioned vaguely around her head, “bycocket hats he supposedly wore. He wouldn’t have, by the way. That was just a Hollywood costume designer’s idea.”

He snorted and started walking again, almost chuckling as she fell into step beside him but only coming up to his shoulder. “Sorry to break your heart but no.”

She pouted and slumped down. “That’s unfortunate.”

“But,” he leaned toward her and she could feel the smile hidden beneath his mask, “my best friend did.”

She gasped and perked back up, eyes wide in excitement. “No!”

“Yep.”

She was almost bouncing. “Show me!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s get you home and you can look it up yourself. His name is Arsenal, but at the time he was called Speedy.” They walked next to each other quietly for a full block, Marinette happily swinging her arms and shooting him covert looks every few seconds, Hood, unable to see her in his periphery due to the mask, looking over at her almost as frequently, before Marinette looked a bit too hard and ended up tripping. Hood snorted at the show of clumsiness but instantly reached out to keep her from falling, not letting go until he could verify her shoes were firmly on the ground. “So, what happened back there?”

She looked up at him, confusion clear on her face. He was a vigilante in Gotham, surely an attempted mugging wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. And his tone was far too teasing for it to be a straightforward question. “Hmm?”

He nodded toward her feet. “The guy came at you and yet both of your shoes are firmly on your feet. What? Are sneakers not as good weapons as flats?”

She barked out a laugh so loud the sound echoed off the buildings around them. “You’ve seen Gotham streets.” She gave a dramatic shiver. “Rather be mugged than take off my shoes.”

Hood chuckled and shook his head. “Fair.”

They continued walking again, the comfortable silence descending upon them for a few more steps until her racing heart demanded she speak. “You know, usually, I get a date before someone walks me home.”

“Usually, you aren’t getting walked home by a vigilante,” he pointed out smugly but all his confidence dropped when Marinette snorted. “What was that for?”

“Happens more often than you would think,” she snarked back. His steps faltered slightly, and he whipped his questioning eyes to her. “Heroes though,” she added as though lost in thought and turning to face him, though she gazed into space as she spoke, “not vigilantes, and back in Paris when Paris had heroes. They at least knew my name though.”

He scoffed. “I know your name.” She could feel his grin under his mask. “Pixie Pop.”

She groaned and swung ahead of him. “That’s what you’re sticking with, huh?”

“Unless you can give me something better,” he shrugged.

“Marinette. My name is Marinette,” she replied.

“Marinette,” he repeated, almost reverently. “Nice to meet you, Marinette.”

She had to stop walking before her knees gave out on her. She somehow managed to turn to face him, eyes wide at that one word and the devotion he was able to convey even through the voice changer. It took quite a few moments before she was able to recover enough to note where she was. “Oh, this is me.”

She walked up the first few steps to her apartment building, knees still shaking slightly, but suddenly turned back toward Red Hood before he could step up, leaving them on the same level, which she took advantage of to lean forward and kiss him on the cheek of his mask. “I can’t believe I miss the scarf,” she grumbled playfully as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He nodded a bit dazed. “Right, of course,” he agreed breathlessly. He cleared his throat lightly and shook out his shoulders, continuing on with a lot more confidence. “Wouldn’t be much of a vigilante if I let the fair citizens of Gotham get hurt.”

She hummed and rolled her eyes. “Just business, huh?”

She was clearly being playful, but she was now leaning away from him like she was unsure, and he couldn’t have that. He leaned into her space to whisper, “Maybe a bit more.”

She grinned. “See you tomorrow at the grotesque?”

“I will never call him that…” he groused playfully for just a moment before brushing a strand of hair behind her shoulder, fingers brushing along her shoulder and upper arm before falling back by his side. “But yes. It’s a date. I’ll bring something to eat.”

“I’ll bring dessert and some wine,” she rasped, only able to form the words after swallowing thickly.

“Can’t wait,” he nodded and forced himself to take a step back. “Have a good night, Marinette.” He kept looking at her for another few moments before taking another step back and grappling away.

“Have a good night, Red Hood,” she whispered into the empty night. She then twirled around with a squeal. She had a dessert to overthink. She was definitely going to have to have a group conversation to plan the perfect dessert and wine combination for a date with a vigilante.

Inspired by this image. Not even sure where the person got it from

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july #jasonette july 2024

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pedroshotwifey · 3 months

Text

To the Flame chapter seventeen

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 2.6k

Chapter warnings: physical abuse, mental abuse, toxic behavior, infidelity, reader is suffering some severe depression among many other things, mentions of vomiting (not descriptive), trauma, unhealthy relationships, disassociation as a coping method, victim blaming, angst, hurt/comfort?, suicidal ideation

Chapter Summary: Javi takes something from you, again.

A/N: This should go without saying, but I am so, so sorry for how long it's been since the last update. I'm still not doing very well, but here's this, so. Yeah. Love you all and I beg you to forgive me ♥

****

It still hurts when you wake up, still an overwhelming pain throughout your entire body. Still a sore and swollen throat, throbbing head, and struggling lungs. It’s been almost a week, and nothing’s gotten much better. You’re still you. Weak, useless, aching you. And Javi’s still…Javi. Not Javi from the hospital, or your Javi from Texas, but Javi from the last few miserable months. Not rageful, exactly, but definitely distant and agitated. Enough so that you decide to steer clear.

You thought—hoped—for a minute that he really did change after that night. But you’ve come to understand that hope is a feeble thing. A foolish thing.

You mostly stay in bed all day, choosing rest—pretend or not—over facing whatever Javi might try. You think he may still feel a little guilty, and that’s why he lets you stay in bed. There’s no way he doesn’t—not after that. He tried one day to get you up, but you did your best to make it seem like you were exhausted, when really you were just terrified. You know what he was after. He was drunk and hurling names at you left and right. You’re surprised he didn’t take you anyway. No, he just left. Walked out of the apartment and let you shut your eyes again, too worn down to care.

He’s gone at work right now. You’re still in bed. It’s probably sundown at this point, but you don’t really know because you’ve been staring up at the ceiling for what seems like hours. He’s supposed to be back at nine tonight.

It’s Friday, which means that Steve and Connie will be coming over for dinner tomorrow. You should be making desert right now so you don’t have to do it in the morning. That would be the smart thing, at least. You should probably eat, too. You’re not sure when you last did that.

You feel a little sick if you’re being honest, probably from the lack of food and water. Being confined to the dark bedroom for days straight surely isn’t helping that either. You huff a sigh, ignoring the way your throat constricts around the air. You reckon it would feel a little better by now if you’d been using it—talking and drinking some fluids.

Before you can give yourself the chance to change your mind, you slip out of bed, your feet hitting the cold hardwood for the first time since yesterday morning or so. You drag yourself into the bathroom, leaving the light off as you pee.

You’re still groggy as you make your way into the kitchen, halfway in a trance as you sit down at the kitchen table. It’s going to take you a minute to fully wake up, but you know you should take your time so you’re not cooking half asleep. The last thing you need right now is another injury.

You watch the clock as you wait, your eyes following the small hands as they tick away at precious seconds. It probably won’t be long at all before he’s home. It’s already late—later than it should be with the time he was supposed to be off work. You know better than to think he’s working overtime.

You take a deep breath, pushing unwanted thoughts from your mind, and stand up. Keeping your mind numb has been getting easier as of late. It takes a massive effort, but you would rather have to do that than brew on your current situation.

It’s hard sometimes, when you get caught up in it, to fall asleep. It seems that night is the worst time for it. Your mind won’t turn off and you end up silently crying until your pillow is soaked and you have to turn it over to sleep when you finally stop. It spirals, your brain wracking up every pitiful thought it can to keep you falling down that damn rabbit hole. Past, present, future, there’s nothing you can think of to comfort you. Only regret and dread swirling around in your dizzy head at every cognizant moment.

Just like now, as you gather ingredients for PB&J from your cabinets and set them on the counter. You can see now that the sun has indeed already gone down, leaving the dull, yellow, overhead bulb your only source of light. The hue it casts makes you sick to your stomach.

You glance at the clock again. This may be the latest he’s ever stayed out. A sour taste forms in your mouth as you realize you aren’t worried. It’s a harsh realization. Such a stark difference from how concerned you were the first time he was gone like this.

But you don’t think about where he is as you make your food. It’s not that you don’t care, it’s just hard to convince yourself of it. He could be down the street or halfway across the world. He’ll come back. And you’ll be here.

You watch the clock as you eat at the table, the only sound to be heard the ticking of the hands and the occasional traffic in the distance. It’s enough for you to keep your idle mind undisturbed. Enough to keep zoning out.

It’s not until you’re taking your last bite that the phone rings, making you jump. It’s like you snap halfway back to reality, your vision focusing and your hearing coming back full force. You sit at the table, ignoring the ringing in favor of trying to get back to that safe place. You can feel your emotions knocking at the door, can almost hear them.

It’s a steady pounding, gentle enough for you to try to push it back, but prominent enough to make it difficult. You think you’re almost there when it suddenly stops and is replaced instead by the sound of metal jingling together. Almost like a set of—

And you’re back, completely and wholly alive in reality, listening to the phone ringing and your husband unlocking the door. Your breath picks up instinctually, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. It’s a lot, but you have to handle it. You think about trying to get back to the bedroom before Javi comes in, but he’s already closing the door behind him by the time the thought breezes through.

“Sweetheart?” You hear him call out. He must see the light on. The phone is still ringing. You wish it would stop.

“In here,” you rasp. That name coming from his sober tongue feels like a stab to your chest.

His footsteps start to head your way, steady. Your stomach twists, but you’re not sure why. He doesn’t sound drunk.

“Javi?” You call again even though he’s almost to you. He walks through the doorway not a second later.

He stands there and watches you for a moment. You know you must look like a mess. But all you can focus on right now is how clear his eyes look, how present he is. He’s there with you. You feel small as you get up from your seat and walk to him with tears swimming in your eyes. You recognize how pathetic it is as you wrap your arms around him and start to cry into his chest, but you do it anyway. He’s there. You’ll take what you can while you have it.

He stands still for a moment before reciprocating your affection and holding you back. But when he does, he molds you to him, leaning down a bit and rocking you gently.

“Shh, it’s okay” he coos, “what’s wrong baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the truth is that you have no idea. It doesn’t matter though, because that’s the exact moment the answering machine picks up. It’s faint from where it’s coming from the hall near the living room, but it’s the loudest and clearest thing to ever hit your ears.

“Hey, Javi, it’s Melissa. It was so much fun hanging out with you tonight! These last few weeks have been amazing, honestly. Call me back, I’d love to schedule another little date back at my place. ‘Kay, let me know, bye!”

You’ve stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped crying. Javi’s frozen in place too. You’re just two people frozen in time, standing, embracing each other in the nauseating yellow light of your kitchen. God, you want to puke.

And then you’re heaving. You’re pushing him off of you, staggering back, trying not to scream and cry. Of everything he’s ever done to you…

“No, no, no, baby, please it’s not what it sounds like,” Javi tries to defend himself with rushed words as he steps carefully after you. You almost don’t hear him through the pounding of blood in your ears.

“Mm, mm,” you squeeze the sound out through your lips. You’re bent over, hands on your knees with your face toward the floor. Tears drop rapidly, blurring your vision but making clear droplets against the tile. Bile burns in the back of your throat, and you realize you really are about to throw up.

You head toward the bathroom. You don’t rush, scared of falling down. But you make your way there. Javi follows behind. He’s talking but you can’t hear a thing. He stands in the doorway when you get to the toilet, watching you get on the floor in front of it just in time to throw up all the content in your stomach.

He flips on the light and gets down behind you, petting your back in what could be a soothing manner if you weren’t trying to push him off.

“Getoffame” you moan, words streaming together. Everything feels fake again, but not in the way that helps tame the pain. No, this nightmare state is more like watching your husband in the damn yellow light of the kitchen as he takes you, unwilling, for the first time all over again. This time though, he’s taken something you’ll never try to understand, never try to forgive. He wasn’t even drunk. He was there tonight while you were alone and hurting.

He says something again. You have no idea what. You hear the timbre of his voice, feel it in your bones, and don’t care what words formed from it. You sit dazedly in front of the toilet when you’re finished, staring blankly ahead and wishing you would just die. What did you do? Why do you deserve this? Why is it you living through this right now?

“Get out,” you whisper. Almost too quiet to hear yourself. You come back again. Not completely, but enough so that you have to feel every ounce of hurt in your veins right now.

“Sweetheart, please listen to me—”

“Get out.”

He comes closer, too close, trying to decide if he should get you up or let you stay down.

“Baby, please get up so we can talk, I—”

“Get out! I fucking hate you, get out!” Your tears have dried, but your wail makes it sound like you’re still crying. It makes your heart clench in a way you’ve yet to experience as the words come out of your mouth, but you can’t take them back. You don’t even know if it’s true, but it feels like it is right now.

Javi stops for a moment, and you think for a second that he may actually listen. But then his hands are on your biceps, pulling you up with enough force to make you stand. He has you flipped around to face him and pinned against the counter before you can protest. It doesn’t stop you though, once you get your bearings.

Your hands are on him now, shoving and clawing and slapping against his arms, his chest, anything to get him away.

“Get out, get out, get out!” You’re crying the words again, over and over again to drown out anything that he tries to let spill from his lying tongue.

When his palm stings your cheek, you don’t even flinch. Your breath hitches, but that’s about the extent of your reaction. He can’t do anything now to hurt you more than he has already.

“Fucking listen to me,” he booms, taking the opportunity of your brief silence to let his words slice through. You’re too tired to do anything, too gone. You stare at him, ready to listen to whatever bullshit he’s going to try to sell.

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” He seethes. “You didn’t want to get out of that bed, much less let me fuck you. I did it for you.”

At a loss for words, you stare at him. Did he hear the words that just came out of his own mouth?

“You slept with another woman…for me?” Your anger is starting to show despite how hard you try to quell it. It’s a strange type of anger, though, because you find yourself almost wanting to laugh. “You know, Javier, you told me a while ago that I’m a slut, but I’m pretty sure that’s you.” Your tone is cold, ment to cut through skin in a way you’ve never attempted before.

His jaw clenches, but that’s the only hint he gives away that shows you affected him at all.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true to make yourself feel better, carino.”

“Exept you fucking know it’s true, Javi! You fucked another woman! You put your nasty dick inside of a woman who is not me, not your wife!” You know you sound like a lunatic as you yell at him, but you don’t care. You’ve never been so angry, humiliated, and defeated at the same time. It’s an overwhelming rush of emotion. “And you say it’s because I was sick in bed? You fucking put me there!”

“Not on purpose, fucking christ! You make it sound like I want to hurt you, but you don’t understand that everything I have done since the day I met you, has been for you! It’s about time somebody tells you how much of an entitled, selfish brat you are. I do everything for you, and you don’t give a shit!”

Out of everything he’s said, you don’t know why those words cut the deepest. But you feel your cheeks heating with embarrassment. Are you acting like a brat? You look into Javi’s eyes, and you can tell the exact moment he clocks what happened.

“You act like a child, annoying and immature. There’s a reason I have to do the things I do.” His tone is softer now, soft like the tears streaming down your cheeks. You barely feel them. You think your subconscious is fading again, because your emotions start to go again until you’re simply numb. Maybe this is all your fault.

Through everything, you can’t hate yourself for it this time when you wrap your arms around him, silently begging him to hold you, to forgive you, to stay with you so you’re not alone. You don’t want him to be mad at you, and you don’t want him to really think you’re a child.

You want to kill that primal instinct that keeps giving in, keeps wanting comfort. This is wrong, a small voice tells you. You know it is. But the louder voice that says you need Javi over anything, is so much easier to listen to. It loves to tell you that maybe if you forgive these things, you can make everything good again. Maybe Javi can forget, too, and you can be happy again.

It takes longer this time for him to tuck you to him, but when he does, it feels like you can breathe a full breath again. In and out, in and out. He’s here. You can put everything that happened tonight in a little file in the back of your head, push it away, try to forget it. All you want is for things to go back to the way they used to be, so you let yourself pretend. You aren’t sure you can handle anything else right now.

You have a feeling, though, that you’re going to feel very differently in the morning.

******

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy

@survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missladym1981 @sofiparallel

@koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi

@justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog @glitterymanboy @letstalkaboutshtufff

@untamedheart81 @1nsommia @joelmillersblog @purple-rain8 @callachloe

@mangoslushcrush

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña #javier pena x reader #dark pedro pascal #dark javier pena #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #pedro pascal smut #angst #ttf #to the Flame

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 7 months

Note

Jack the Ripper meeting Himiko Toga!reader?

-It was unusual for Jack to see a young lady like yourself out so late at night, but you didn’t seem bothered in the slightest- a bright smile on your lips, humming a happy tune.

-However, it was your unique colors that caught his attention, it was a strange blend of glee but also a desire to cause pain to others. He couldn’t look away and chose to follow you, curious.

-Either you were very preceptive that you had a tail, or you were way smarter than you were letting on- which only seemed to draw Jack in more.

-He rounded a corner, and he froze, seeing your clothes on the ground, as if you had quickly discarded them, which made his eyes widen- how indecent!

-Jack didn’t realize it immediately, as another young girl was walking down the street, one who looked completely different. Jack only realized that it was you because your lovely rainbow of colors had not changed.

-What a curious ability you had~

-He continued to follow you, keeping his distance so he wouldn’t alert you any more than he already had, wanting to know about you.

-When he rounded a corner, he instantly dodged your knife strike, seeing you, in your disguise, glaring darkly at him, “Why are you following me?”

-You didn’t seem bothered that he easily dodged your strike before he easily leapt back, getting some distance between the two of you and you went on guard, unaware if he was going to attack or not.

-He bowed deeply at the waist, “Forgive me for startling you, young lady- that was not my intent. I was merely curious about you and that ability of yours.”

-You lifted an eyebrow in slight confusion, before you realized he new and you smirked as your disguise melted away, stunning him.

-“SHIELD YOURSELF MY DEAR!!” Jack quickly removed his cape, refusing to look at you as he held the cape out to you.

-You had no problem being naked, as the streets were deserted anyway, but his reaction was rather cute as you took the cape from him, “I was going to go back and get my clothes once I took care of you- but thank you for this.”

-He only turned, keeping his hand over his eyes until he knew that you were covered, and he offered to escort you back to your clothes, which you accepted.

-This strange man didn’t bother you like others did- you felt something…familiar with him as you got redressed, but kept the cape, twirling in it, “I feel so fancy in this!”

-He was amused, seeing you acting so childish, but it was endearing before your eyes hardened, looking back at him, “No why are you following me?”

-Jack would never lie to a young lady such as yourself, so he told you honestly, “You intrigued me- you are a work of art, filled with happiness but also with malice, making a unique blend of colors. I merely wanted to know about you- even more so with your unique ability.”

-You were a bit confused by his words, not entirely sure what he meant at first, before you smirked up at him, pulling out your knife, but not making any threatening gestures, “It’s beautiful- love I mean. And when I love someone else, I desire to be close to them- to be them. That’s why I go after them and ingest their blood- their blood- their love, is what makes our love grow stronger together.”

-In the past you had been treated like a villain- a monster, for what you could do and what you’ve done to others- but Jack surprised you, looking at you like what you just said was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

-He held out a hand to you, offering you to take it and when you did, he surprised you by twirling you into his arms, waltzing with you in the empty street, “My dear I understand you perfectly! You create your own masterpieces out of love and passion! To become one with the object of your desire is so beautiful and elegant! You are truly an artist!”

-You couldn’t help but laugh warmly, this weirdo was messed up like you were, but he was nice to you, and you could tell that he wasn’t going to hurt you- so you indulged in this moment of freedom, dancing in the dark with a stranger.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror jack the ripper

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echo-goes-mmm · 1 year

Text

Silas and Wren #1

Masterpost

Warnings: slavery, implied past non-con, blood

Silas strolled through the markets. He didn’t venture out into human areas often, but their shopping district didn’t seem that different from his own. Aside from the goods, of course.

He did receive a few looks, but most people left him alone. It was probably just because he was overdressed. Unlike some of his kin, he could pass pretty well. Not that it really mattered; there hadn’t been a conflict between vampires and their counterparts for millennia.

The market was flooded with smells and scents foreign to him. There was all sorts of human food stalls, and some of them intrigued him. But there was no point in wasting money on things he could only taste and would make him nauseous later. Besides, that wasn’t what he was here for.

Silas went deeper into the crowds, breathing in deep. He had eaten before leaving the house so the scent of food wouldn’t distract him from his goal.

Vampires got their blood by paying humans high wages and other riches to donate often. No vampire had gone hungry in ages, and no human had ever been forced for just as long. He heard that humans often sold blood to pay for colleges and houses. Fair was fair. It wasn’t like those nasty cow farms he’d passed on the way over.

Vampires did not keep slaves, but humans did. And Silas was a bit lonely. A companion that could talk and think would be welcome. It was just a bonus if they also tasted nice. A little desert all to himself after monotonous meals. And he’d be rescuing them from slavery, treating them well like their human masters didn’t. Surely that would be a handsome enough reward.

He smelled the slavehouse before he saw it. Despair and dread filtered towards him, as strong as any rancid perfume. It disturbed him to be able to smell such a thing. He usually had no scent indication of emotion.

The building was large, and sounded busy. Chatter and the sound of iron against stone reached his ears.

A salesperson met him at the door.

“Hello, sir! What can I help you with today?” Silas smiled back at him, as was polite, and he glanced towards his teeth. But the salesperson did not seem perturbed.

“I’m looking for a companion,” he said.

“Certainly, any gender or sex preferences?” Silas hadn’t thought of that. In all his research about caring for a human, he didn’t consider gender. Maybe he’d relate more to a man?

“Male, please.”

“Right this way, sir.” The salesman led him through the warehouse, passing by rows of chained slaves. They seemed organized by category of work, then gender. Interesting.

“Forgive me,” said the man, “but I wasn’t aware vampires had slaves. I don’t mean to imply anything untoward of course.”

“We don’t.” It was illegal to enslave another vampire, but that was where the law ended. Human slavery was an ancient practice. It simply wasn’t done anymore. His kin would look down on him for buying a human, but Silas didn’t care anymore. They looked down on him anyway.

“I see. Well, here is our lovely collection of bedfellows. I’m sure one will be to your taste- preference.” Silas’s stomach turned icy. He hadn’t meant sexual companionship. He scanned the row of slaves, all of them chained to the floor by the ankle. They looked miserable. The smell of fear was at its peak here in this awful section.

Now that he thought about it, maybe this was for the best. One less person stuck in sexual slavery. Now who would he buy?

Slowly, he made his way down the line of men. They all had different appearances, clearly meant to “appeal” to different people. But it didn’t matter how they looked, Silas was interested in the scent of their blood. It was only fair, he couldn’t buy all of them. His pockets were deep, but having more than one human would be arduous.

___________________

This buyer looked different. Strange. He couldn’t place it until he saw the flash of the man’s fangs. A vampire. He’d never heard of a vampire owning anybody. Not that he heard much about vampires, even through the slave gossip lines. He’d have to ask around once he was gone.

He was acting strange too. Getting close to everyone, but instead of looking and touching he was smelling.

___________________

None of them smelled particularly appealing, until he came to the end of the row. This one was small and looked incredibly tired for a young adult. He couldn’t estimate human years, but he seemed to be the same ‘age’ as himself.

And he smelled delightful, aside from the despair. But there was only one way to be sure he tasted as good as he smelled.

He bent down and murmured to the slave. “Just relax. This won’t hurt, I promise.”

The slave looked up at him, his honey-brown eyes wide.

“Would you mind if I took a sample?” the salesperson hesitated. “Just a taste,” he reassured him. “Not even an ounce.”

“Well… I suppose that would be alright.”

___________________

Oh god. The vampire was going to drink from him.

Please don’t let it hurt. Please, god.

The vampire cupped his cheek and gently tilted his head to expose his neck. He screwed his eyes shut.

“Relax,” said the vampire, and he tried his best. The vampire kissed his neck, a mere brush of his soft lips, and he felt a strange tingling sensation on the little patch of skin. He felt the vampire’s warm breath, and then what was surely the tips of his fangs.

But instead of a stabbing pain, he only felt a mild pressure. A slight tug and some trickling warmth told him he had, in fact, been bitten. The vampire was telling the truth, it didn’t hurt.

___________________

His blood was even better than Silas could have guessed. Deep and rich, with a hint of sweetness. Utterly delicious. Silas wouldn’t drink from him often, of course. His blood was too rich to eat on it regularly, and It would make the boy sick. But this was a treat he could look forward to. And if this was how good he was mistreated, how amazing would he be healthy?

He kissed the wound closed, and wiped away the excess drops from the slave’s neck.

“I’ll take this one.”

#Silas and Wren #yes i have favorite whump tropes no i dont take criticism #my writing #vampire whump #slavery whump

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ghouly-boiiiii · 4 months

Text

A Light in the Dark 🕯️

Chapter 1: Throwing Stones

Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul

Summary: Takes place directly after the end of Season 1. As they begin their journey, Lucy is understandably very angry and fearful towards the Ghoul. She hates him, and is only joining him because she wants answers. He, however, is harboring secret feelings for Lucy ever since she saved his life. Having not been with anyone since Barb, and believing she would never feel the same, the bounty hunter has to deal with these feelings on his own. Little does he know, Lucy finds herself having inexplicable feelings for him as well, and struggling to make sense of them.

Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Casual Sex Lucy and No Wait Let Me Court You Cooper, Cooper is touch-starved and rusty in bed, He's also self-conscious about his body, Ghoul channels old romantic Cooper, Lucy is confused by strange surface dweller mating customs, She helps him discover his old self, He helps her discover her true self, Did I mention there would be angst

Rating: Mature - Word Count: 1,742

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers. No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man and lots of angst.

In this chapter...

To her horror, the rock shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

She threw her hands up in front of her. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

“Don’t worry…” To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’… But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock, then looked up at her and threw it in her direction.

She watched as fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

Authors Note: This fic starts out somewhat similar to my other fic, My Name Is Cooper, because it starts directly after the end of the season. They have similar conversations at first, but the tone is much different and the story goes in a completely different direction. This one is more serious (still with some humor though, of course), and is probably going to be longer. I really wanted to do a more realistic, slow burn romance. I know there's a ton out there already, but I wanted to do my own version because idk, reasons I guess lol. But I really wanted to dive deep into how these two navigate their relationship and the very complicated feelings they might have for each other. This is what you might call another free-writing project, so I don't know *exactly* where it's gonna go, but I will do my best to make sure it has a decent ending when the time comes! Inspired by the cool peeps on Discord and touch-starved Cooper headcanons lol.

Lucy felt the cool night air fill her lungs as she took a deep breath and tried to still her mind. It was silent. Nothing but the soft crunch of leaves and dirt under their feet, and perhaps the occasional frog or cricket.

The vault dweller looked out at the distance before them. A fog rose up from the earth, illuminated by the faint glow of a thousand lights that mirrored the stars above. She was in awe, even thinking that it was beautiful. But it was only a distraction from all the pain and confusion she felt.

Her whole world had turned upside down. Nothing was as she believed it was. Nothing was as it seemed. Everything she thought she knew had crumbled into dust within a matter of minutes. She was numb. Overwhelmed. Everything felt surreal. And now she found herself once again alone… with him.

As Lucy stared ahead at his silhouette in the darkness, she felt nothing but disdain. The young vault dweller was taught to forgive and forget. But she was fairly certain the people who taught her that were never fed to a giant salamander or tied up by their neck and dragged around a desert or sold for organs. How could she possibly forgive, let alone forget, such horrible things that were done to her?

She couldn’t. But she had to stuff down her feelings and let it go… for now.

“So… where are we going?” Lucy finally asked. They must have been walking for at least thirty minutes at this point. And he hadn’t looked back even once, only reacting to the dog when she came up to him, and even then with barely more than a glance. Lucy wasn’t even sure if he knew she was still following him anymore.

The Ghoul didn’t answer right away. He waited a moment, before he took a breath and said, “Can’t say for sure yet… but looks like yo’ daddy might be headed for New Vegas.”

“...That’s a town?”

“Big town.”

“Okay…” Lucy took a deep breath. The conversation seemed to be going… okay so far. “So… what’s in this town? Why do you think he’d want to go there?”

The Ghoul didn’t answer.

The vault dweller swallowed hard. She wanted to push, but she knew she had to be cautious. “How do you know my father? Are you going to tell me?”

The bounty hunter seemed to be ignoring her.

She huffed. He was so rude. So rude and inconsiderate and unaccommodating, it sickened her. Maybe if she started with something simpler… “Okay, so… do you got like a… name or something?”

Again, nothing.

Lucy frowned, her tone getting exasperated. “I’m just… wondering what I should call you… You really not gonna answer that either?”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you call me.” He snapped, sounding a bit angry.

Lucy fell silent and her throat got tight, a bit of fear rising in her. She truly didn’t know what kind of madness compelled her to follow this man, after everything he did to her. She was hypervigilant about his every movement. Knowing that at any moment, he could turn around and try to do... something to her.

With her hand on her pistol, she kept her distance. This one, armed with actual bullets. She wasn’t sure if it would do much, but it was something.

Truly, every fiber of her being told her to get as far away from this… creature as she humanly could, but…

He had answers. And so did whoever they were going to find. She needed those answers. There was no question about it. Sure, she could just turn around and go home. Go back to her life in the Vault with Norm and Chet and Stephanie and everyone else. But she would never be able to live with herself. Those questions would never stop haunting her. She would never stop feeling compelled to seek the truth. Lucy knew this about herself, and her body acted almost automatically as she took one step in front of the other behind those of this two-hundred year old cowboy.

“Look… you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Obviously, we’re not friends. But if we’re going to be working together… we need to at least communicate effectively...”

The Ghoul was silent for a moment, then finally responded, “Well, then… I got a question for you , Vaulty.”

“...Okay?”

“What happened to the doctor?”

“...The doctor?”

“Yeah. How’d he end up with no head?” This time, he did turn his head slightly, although not enough to see her. “...Who cut it off?”

"Uhh... Well, uh... I-I did..." Lucy's eyes fell to the ground.

"You did?" The bounty hunter said in surprise.

“Uhh… well…” She swallowed hard, as she remembered the task. She’ll never forget having to cut off someone’s head for the first time… and, well… hopefully, the last. “He asked me to.”

“He asked you to cut off his head?” This time, he did look back at her, peering over his shoulder questioningly with a raised brow.

“Yes… he… he took cyanide and told me… He told me it would be easier… if I just… brought his head…”

The Ghoul turned to face ahead of him, then just said, “Huh…”

There was silence for a moment, before he asked another question. “What about the Super Duper Mart? What'd you do in'ere?”

Lucy blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him, flustered by the fact that he would ask that, considering he put her in that situation. “...Why do you wanna know?”

“Curious, I guess.” The Ghoul said simply. "It's just kinda funny... what with all that 'Golden Rule' talk, how many people seem ta' end up dead 'round you."

“It was an accident!" The vault dweller quickly retorted. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt... I just…" She paused and looked down at the ground somberly, remembering Martha. "They... they were holding all those people captive… I... I couldn’t just leave them there…”

“You mean those ghouls?”

“They’re people. Maybe they have a condition, but they’re still people..." She snapped, then added under her breath. "Unlike you...”

Dangit. That was not a good thing to say. Lucy bit her tongue, hoping he didn't hear.

She swallowed hard and tried to play it off. “But I did have to kill some of them. So, you know…” She said, trying to sound confident in her ghoul-killing skills. "I'd, uh... watch out... if I were you."

"Heh. Well, good for you, Vaulty." He snickered. “…Anyways, how did you get the–”

“Now! Now, hold on!” Lucy said, holding up a bluish-grey finger. “If you get to ask me things, I get to ask you things.” She lifted her head a bit higher. “A question for a question. That’s only fair.”

The Ghoul peered over his shoulder at her again for a moment as he continued to walk, then turned back. “Alright.”

“Yeah… so…” She looked down at the ground and exhaled, then back up with determination in her eyes. “So I get to ask you—”

“Two questions.”

“Five.”

“Five?”

“That’s right. You technically asked me five questions. Actually, six.”

“Well, that don’t sound quite fair to me, Vaulty.” He said with a smirk. “I asked you two questions. The rest were for clarification. They don’t count.”

She huffed in dismay. It was worth a try, she thought.

He chuckled. “Tell you what. You can ask me however many questions you want. But I get to pick which ones I answer.”

“No! That’s not fair! I answered the questions you asked me, now you’re gonna answer mine.”

“Well, you didn’t have to answer my questions. That was your choice.”

“What!? I–” She huffed, unsure how to counter that.

“Alright… question for a question.” The bounty hunter said, raising his voice, and two fingers. "You got two. Have at it, sweetheart.”

The vault dweller jumped, then quickly ran up closer, but still stayed a few feet behind him. Out of arms reach. “...Name?”

“Pass.”

“How do you know my dad?”

“Hard pass.”

She huffed. “This isn’t fair.”

“And what is, darlin'?” He scoffed, holding his arm out beside him. “What in God’s Green Earth made you think that anything in the wasteland is ever fucking fair? It’s every man for himself out here, sweetheart. Thought you might’ve figured that out by now.”

Lucy growled, and as she momentarily lost her cool, she kicked a rock in front of her. To her horror, it shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

He froze, and she took a sharp gasp. Oh, no… now she’d done it.

As she watched The Ghoul slowly turn around to face her, she threw her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry!” She said in a panic. “I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

The old bounty hunter stood there and just stared at her a moment. “Don’t worry…” His face was in shadow, but she could see the gleam in his eyes. To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’…”

Lucy rose her head and lowered her arms a little, relaxing somewhat.

“But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock from the ground. He tossed it in his hand once, then stood, looked up at her, and threw it in her direction.

She watched as it weakly flew towards her, then fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

She looked up at The Ghoul and raised an eyebrow before she continued to follow, wondering what the hell that was all about.

“One thang you gotta learn, Vaulty…” He said, raising his voice commandingly. “Caps ain’t the only form of money up here. Everything you have is potential currency. That includes information.” He said. “You see, that Golden Rule a yer’s only works if other people agree with it. Now that might be all peachy down in your vault, but up here, you don’t wanna be givin’ nothin’ away unless you know you gettin’ somethin’ in return. If you don’t do that, you’ll be eaten alive out here.”

“So… You’re giving me survival lessons now?”

“Yeah… I guess I am.” He said as he turned to smile at her, then tipped his hat up with a single finger. “...But those you can have for free.”

To be continued...

#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul #lucy maclean #fallout #my posts #ghouly-boi #fallout prime #my fanfaction

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diminuel · 30 days

Note

Ngl i didnt really love Dragodile but THEN I saw your drag-on (hehe) pic and it all clicked. dragon loves Crocodile no matter what, if he changes gender, kills people, overthrows a government, kills people, enforces a drought on a small kingdom, kills people, steals, lies, cheats, he loves him so fully that it penetrates all else. even when they can’t be together, even if Crocodile did something so evil the only safe and just thing would be to kill Crocodile — Dragon would STILL love him

And Dragon would do ANYTHING for Crocodile, would change as much as he could. If Dragon was straight when Crocodile transitioned he would do everything he could to be supportive and caring, maybe even try to fake or force it if it didn’t follow suit — but if Crocodile was still straight after he transitioned (somehow) than Dragon would crossdress as much as he could. Happily live life as Crocodile’s dotting girlfriend if that’s what it took to make him happy.

But Crocodile loves and respects him too much to try and tie him down. Maybe an even more selfish crocodile could work to slowly corrode and morph Dragon into his pirate desert criminal king, someone eager to protect Baroque works and propel Crocodile to the throne — but that wouldn’t be *his* Dragon.

I think what is interesting about Dragon and Crocodile as a ship is that we have nothing to go on. Zero. The only thing that binds them together is Iva knowing Crocodile and the Crocodad theory. Which means that this ship lives off the potential. It is a vessel for all the wholesome and fucked up ideas we can make up for them.

We can use what little we know of Dragon and Crocodile’s characters to give us an idea what their interactions would be like but even that is kind of uncertain *lol*

Dragon in drag is @mangyraccooon's doing, I cannot take credit for that X’D

But I do like to imagine that Dragon and Crocodile’s love for each other is unconditional because that just appeals to me. Sure, Dragon is most likely a character with a strong moral code, but it’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it? He IS branded as a criminal. He doesn’t shy away from starving people as long as those are people he doesn’t approve of. He shouldn’t judge Crocodile too harshly for his nefarious plans. (Well, he might not like the whole government dog thing, but might see the merit in having access to government resources and information.)

So far I’ve disregarded the topic of sexuality and gender and how that might impact their relationship, since I feel it would be a non-issue for Dragon? I have nothing to back this up of course. But yes, I don’t think Crocodile would want Dragon to change for him, at least not in that regard. If Dragon wants to experiment then sure, go ahead.

Regarding the Crocodile influencing (( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) if you’re a Supernatural fan you know why I make that face) Dragon idea. He could but then again I don’t really think Dragon is someone who easily lets himself be influenced. Dragon is a very stubborn kind of man, but even he can be pushed to change his approach as we’ve seen after Ohara. Since he’s now willing to use force, he might also be willing to listen to Crocodile’s more questionable avenues to getting power and money. But I think both of them know that they have diverging paths even though their goal might be the same. And they have to be alright with that.

(Though I really like the idea that Crocodile is basically doing the dirty work for the RA until they manage to have enough power to do the dirty work themselves.)

All that said… I would actually be interested in scenarios where Dragon does not as easily forgive Crocodile for what he’s done – in Alabasta, to Luffy (even though Crocodile wouldn’t have known about the kid). It would be interesting how they might navigate the clash of love and anger. Maybe they should have sex about it.

Sorry, I ended up rambling about random things.

#thebestpartofwakingup #Diminuel replies

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kinaesthetiqueer · 4 months

Text

What These Hands Can Be

Rating: G

Words: 7,174

Pairing: Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos

Characters: Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, minor Nora, Ren, RWBY, Oscar, Ozpin, Theodore, & Rumpole

Other Tags: Post Volume 9, set in Vacuo, alternating POV

Summary: Pyrrha barely knows what to do with her hands these days. She's been gone so long that everything, and everyone, is so different now. Even Jaune. Especially Jaune.

Author's note: My gift for @ssarkosghost for @remnants-of-rwby-exchange! I am so sorry that is a day late; please forgive me. I went to edit and accidentally added 3k... It is in its entirety below but the AO3 link will be by chapters.

gloved

Pyrrha spends a lot of time looking at her hands now.

Her nails are often chipped, bitten. When she was young, her mother had her wear gloves to curb the habit. They were just thick enough to keep her from nibbling the thin keratin to ragged edges. Mittens helped protect her young hands from bitter Argus winters when she wanted to build snowmen at the park. Garden gloves kept dirt from gathering under her nails as she worked alongside her mother in the tiny flowerbed their townhouse called its own. As she grew older, darker pairs helped to camouflage the tell-tale glow of her semblance in use, carefully hiding her critical advantage. Gloves, for one reason or another, have followed her throughout her life.

The desert is too hot for them.

Without them, Vacuan sands and wind roughen her palms beyond belief. Her callouses toughen, her fingertips thicken, and her palms crack, no matter how much moisturizer she applies after showers. There are other ways to minimize the damage, but to keep one’s aura shield engaged all the time outdoors was one of many marks of an outsider. Pyrrha shrinks at the thought of attracting even more attention.

Most people don’t recognize her these days anyway. Pyrrha runs her hands through her ponytail, much shorter than she remembers. It had been like when she’d emerged from the glowing golden portal, blinking and confused, stepping into what appeared to be a war room meeting of her closest friends and many unfamiliar adults.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Pyrrha had whispered into the silence, rubbing her throat. Her bare feet made little plap plap sounds on the cool sandstone as she took a few unsteady steps forward before stopping just out of reach of the closest person- a young, wide-eyed boy she didn’t recognize.

The portal shrunk, fizzled, and faded into oblivion while she struggled to remember why she’d just stepped into their midst. She fidgeted with the ends of her sash in her hands. Still, the urge to rub her throat remained, as if she needed to warm her voice box before speaking any more.

The crying and screaming broke the silence first- Nora’s shrieks, Ruby’s choked sobs, Yang’s cracking voice. Then came the questions- Blake’s skepticism, Ren’s disbelief, Weiss’ caution.

Are you really Pyrrha?

Oh, of that, she was positively sure.

What happened to you?

She had died, that was somewhat evident by the scar tissue that twisted and stretched beneath the fabric of her loose linen dress and the horrifying memory of searing heat. Ruby had nearly vomited on the spot at her halting recollection of her death, gaze pinned to the [place that Pyrrha massaged at her collar.

Where have you been?

That question haunts her, even now, a little over two weeks later.

One year, eleven months, three weeks, and five days. The number rolled off Nora’s tongue quicker than it had any right to, but with such fury and despair that no one questioned its accuracy. That was how long it had been since the Fall of Beacon, since she’d been gone, how long she’d been dead to her friends. It’s a massive amount of time to be unaccounted for and unexplainably absent. It had taken a woman Pyrrha had never met to get them to all finally believe that she was herself, that she wasn’t some trick of the enemy or especially vivid group hallucination.

It was when she’d taken Robyn Hill’s hand that she had first noticed she was no longer wearing her gloves. Robyn was wearing fingerless ones, much like Nora’s, but black. Robyn’s grip was firm, her soft smile reassuring.

“Just tell the truth,” she said.

There was not, and still is not, much to tell.

She’d died. There was nothing. Then there was golden light and they were staring at her. She was herself. She was alive. She didn’t know why her hair was cut or why she had a sash that should be ash, just as much as she should. She answered question after question until they sort of devolved into a distressed, hopeful argument about her existence.

At that point, with the truth told and nothing more for either of them to do, Robyn helped her sit in an extra chair to watch the proceedings. The action of sitting only made her realize how exhausted she was by the affair, even if she wanted nothing more than to be accepted into their fold again.

That being said, the results of their argument mattered little. Instead, Pyrrha finally dared to look over to the one person, out of friends and strangers, that had yet to say a word.

Jaune?

He stared at her, blue eyes wide. His hair was cut in an unfamiliar way and streaked with white that she didn’t remember. The lines around his eyes spoke to an age that shouldn’t be possible, but his haunted expression was more than just seeing his old partner back from the dead. That expression spoke volumes, though he did not.

“Hey,” Jaune says now, knocking on her open door “You ready to go?”

Pyrrha looks up from the creases in her palms, the unbroken lifelines and calloused fingertips, the bare nails and chapped knuckles. The tanned skin there is some of the only exposed skin she has. The rest of her is covered in brown, sheer compression arm and leg sleeves, a burgundy athletic romper, copper vambraces and greaves, and long boots and UV goggles, both suited for the sand. Her sash flows to her calves as she stands and reaches for Mellon and Tora, bringing them to her side with just a thought.

Her red gaiter hugs her neck, making it difficult for her to reach up and massage her throat. Jaune nods and turns into the hallway without a second thought though, so it’s not as if he needs to hear her say anything.

Pyrrha pulls the fabric up over her nose and follows Jaune without a word.

2. clenched

Pyrrha is dead.

Three words, one truth. Through the past years, it’s the one thing he has forced himself to believe and remember, despite the pain it causes. He had promised to fight in her memory, to do what she would have done. The tattered remnants of her extra sash always hug his waist, taut when he twists or bends and flaring out when he leaps or falls. Its flowing length reminds him that its owner lost her battle so that he might win a war. Isn’t that the truth of it? Such things are unchanging, immutable. Decades to reckon with that truth and now here it is undone, just as surely as his aching bones and rusted armor.

Pyrrha is back, Jaune thought when she stepped out of the glowing portal. Pyrrha is… alive?

Her bright green eyes, darting with uncertainty and anxiety, were as expressive as ever. Her hair was shorter, though still a ponytail in that same brilliant red. Her crown was absent, though its charms hung from her ears. With the white linen dress and her sash wrapped around her waist, she looked a bit mismatched, contrasting youth with a world weary frown he often saw in the mirror.

Two weeks and three days ago.

Jaune’s own tally picks up where Nora’s left off.

He can hear Pyrrha’s footsteps behind him as he winds his way through the cool hallways of the Shade Academy dorms. Her footsteps don’t sound like he remembers them, less assured. He tries not to listen and focuses on finding the way out. Another quirk of Shade was a particular aversion to exit signage; early on, it was helpful to stick with some of the other students, whether those from Vacuo or those who chose to attend Shade after the Fall. Now he’s that person for Pyrrha, leading her to the open common area that exits to the main campus.

I bet Pyrrha could probably just use a compass to get out.

His chuckle dies in his throat. No longer is it a hypothetical. What once might have been a bittersweet thought is a plausible reality.

Pyrrha is alive. She’s right there. Right behind me.

His thoughts echo her name relentlessly, a plea, a prayer, a petition. It’s caught between his ears in a way that he can’t force it past his lips.

It’s a trick. It’s just another trick- Jaune swallows, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself. In his mind’s eye, he can see Pyrrha behind him, cruel joy in her emerald eyes, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. He can almost feel the pain of Miló slicing through the gaps in his armor again.

No, it’s not. She’s here. We both are.

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and exhales. He hears Pyrrha step around him, approach his left side, and take a deep breath of her own.

“You… didn’t actually explain… what are we supposed to be doing?” Pyrrha murmurs, brushing against his side. The gesture can’t be more than an accident but suddenly it feels like every eye in the common area is on him and her, together.

He sidesteps, awkwardly covering the flinch by heading toward the doors again. He does remember the stilted text he’d sent; it’d taken nearly three hours to compose it.

> Need you ready for combat in fifteen. I’ll come by your room.

“Oh yeah, right. Headmaster Theodore got a transmission from a couple of miles out that a relay tower was damaged badly by the windstorm last night. He wants you to clear and organize the metal before someone actually fixes it.”

Jaune times his shove of the door with the end of his explanation and hopes that Pyrrha will not ask the obvious question. They step into the hot afternoon sun. Jaune squints, but Pyrrha just lowers her goggles over her eyes. She looks even more Vacuan than some of the townsfolk. While the so-called Beacon Brigade students, like teams CFVY and SSSN had to earn their respect at the ‘Skirmish of Shade’ and Jaune and RWBY came upon their respect with their efforts in Atlas and beyond, Pyrrha managed to curry the favor of a fair number of Vacuans simply through her sacrifice at Beacon. Her new outfit, her weapons, even her rudimentary scroll- they were all gifts from local shops. In a way, she belongs to this desert kingdom more than anything or anyone else.

“Jaune?”

He flinches too hard to hide it this time, but her expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?” Jaune swallows bitter bile, waiting for the inevitable question.

“Where are we going?”

We. Right.

“West, out of the city. Come on, we’ll be faster on the rooftops.” Jaune heads for the closest wall gate, desperate to leave his thoughts behind him.

“Jaune, please accompany Pyrrha on this mission,” Oscar had asked simply this morning in Theodore’s office. Before that, Jaune had been unsure why he had been summoned; Oscar’s text had very few details. Probably because he would have already been walking in the other direction, soulless desert be damned, if he’d known what these three had planned.

Headmaster Theodore, Professor Rumpole, and Oscar- yes, actually Oscar, judging by the slightly guilty expression- watched him expectantly.

“A squall came through last night and the Western relay node has gone offline; we need the wind damage cleared before we can actually repair it,” Theodore explained further. “That’s where you come in. I’ve sent coordinates to your scroll. Clear the debris and report back.”

Jaune casually adjusted the straps of his chest plate, trying to conceal the hitch in his breathing. “Oh, well, I was supposed to-”

“Xiao Long has been reassigned to a different mission with her teammate Schnee. Mr. Daichi and Ms. Scarlatina are handling your original mission,” Professor Rumpole raised an eyebrow up at him. “You’re clear to help your partner with this.”

“I mean, sure, but what about back up?” Jaune swallowed, nervous. “I’m sure Nora would love to help! They’ve been pretty close, right? Oh, or Ren! Grimm have been really nasty in that part of the desert, yeah? Wouldn’t it be better if-”

“If her partner stopped avoiding her?” Rumpole finished, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “We’re spread too thin to have full teams on small jobs.”

The room was silent for a moment.

Professor Rumpole wasn’t quite as terrifying as Professor Goodwitch, but eventually, he still looked away.

“Fine. We’ll get it done,” he muttered, already turning to go. He could see Oscar making a face out of the corner of his eye. Good, he could stand to feel a little guilty about it. There’s no doubt this was his idea.

I don’t want to… not yet.

“What’s the problem here? Stop spitting into the wind!” Theodore retorted, standing from his chair, pressing his gloved hands to his desktop and peering at Jaune. “Didn't you miss her?”

He froze, a wave of rage passing through him. He clenched his teeth and fists as the feeling filled every crevice of his soul and simmered into a boil. Then, just as quickly, the wave receded, drawing back until he was hollow once more.

“Of course, sir.” Jaune turned and left without another word.

It’s not as if anyone else would understand.

3. hesitant

Jaune leaps from rooftop to rooftop, with his only objective seeming to be to get out of the city in the westward direction. By the time Pyrrha’s moisture wicking underclothes have soaked up a gallon of sweat, they’re finally on the outskirts of the capital. They’re heading into the blazing sun, which isn’t relenting as it sinks lower toward the horizon.

Not once does he look back at her, only opting to look once she’s at his side in the shifting sands. Even then, he only glances at her and nods once. He pulls his scroll out,much higher tech than hers, and orients them with a map. In the distance, a blue objective waypoint blinks steadily. She nods and he puts it away as they set off.

Her words stick in her throat, like they so often do these days. As they jog through the sand, heat waves shimmer. The trick to running through the desert, as Fox Alistair graciously advised her last week, is to never give the sand a chance to know you’re there. Pyrrha springs from step to step, lightly pressing on the hundreds of grains under her sole for just a moment before pushing off again. Jaune runs alongside her, much more fit than she remembers. It almost makes her laugh, to see him so seriously engaging in exercise that would have had him gasping or swearing at Beacon.

Almost.

The sun has sunk lower into the sky by a few degrees by the time the mangled tower comes into view. Pyrrha almost skids to a stop at the sight of it, slowing her gait as they approach.

“Badly damaged?” She croaks out as they slide down the dunes that have been blown into formations around the structure. Once the sand settles under her, she takes a long drink from her water pouch. Jaune does the same, moving into the shadow of what’s still left standing.

“Emphasis on badly,” Jaune quips dryly. Then he looks over, startled, when Pyrrha snorts. The sound surprises her as well. She clears her throat and busies herself with another drink of precious water.

“Blueprints?” Pyrrha asks, conserving her words.

Jaune passes over his scroll. She peers at them, looking up at the twisted metal structure. Some of it can be bent back into shape, mainly the huge looming top half of the tower that hangs at a seventy-five degree angle. Other pieces scattered around are definitely just scrap now.

As she looks over and over the structure, she circles it and memorizes the appropriate shapes. Scattered shrapnel gathers into a pile without much thought, neatly pulled from the sand before it can pose a trip hazard. On her third circuit, Pyrrha dares to look up at Jaune.

He still sits listlessly in the tower’s shadow, sand pooling around the ankles of his boots. He has his arms folded across his knees, chin on his arms as he watches her work. Their eyes meet briefly before his gaze darts away. Still, he remains angled toward her.

Pyrrha points up at the twisted spires where the forces of nature had torn the metal apart. “Some of these are too big for me to adjust–”

“That’s fine,” Jaune says quickly. “Do what you can and we’ll–”

“–by myself?” Pyrrha finishes, trying not to look too hurt. The face coverings help with that. Nothing can hide how her shoulders curl in for a moment, betraying how much she wants to shrink under Tora and let the sand cover her.

“What am I gonna do?” Jaune snaps bitterly. His anger carries like sand on the wind. They stare at each other for a long moment, at once a few feet and a million miles away. Pyrrha coughs, reaching beneath her gaiter to massage her throat.

“You could… boost me?” Pyrrha suggests gently. No sooner than the words have left her mouth does she regret them.

Oh… I should have let him tell me. She frowns, licking her lips nervously. Would he have though?

Blue eyes snap up, wide and betrayed. Jaune’s eyebrows furrow, putting the pieces together. His accusation is swift and accurate: “Nora.”

“She’s been catching me up on what I missed,” Pyrrha says apologetically, clearing her throat again.

That was a bit of an understatement. Nora had spent an hour or so each night in their shared room rambling about JNPR’s misadventures after Beacon. Even though Nora falling asleep mid sentence was somewhat normal for them, she’d still double checked with Ren that she was okay, or at least close to it. They hadn’t yet gotten to the part where Nora earned the sharp, spider-webbing scars that adorn her skin now; Pyrrha hasn’t been sure if she’s allowed to ask.

“It has been a rough few months for us, Pyrrha,” Ren had said over mugs of cactus leaf tea, squeezing her hand kindly. “Let her enjoy talking to you again.”

It’s hard not to enjoy their late night talks. When the desert is dark and cold and the Shade dorms cool down enough for a light blanket, it’s positively cozy to listen to Nora ramble on about events she can only imagine. Besides, Nora doesn’t expect her to talk; she doesn’t need Pyrrha to clear the scratchy, annoying feeling in her throat to contribute. Her simple hums, sighs, and giggles do just fine.

“She’s mentioned it a few times so far,” Pyrrha explains as she fidgets, twisting her bare fingers around each other until her joints ache with the strain of contortion. There’s no escaping this awkwardness. There’s only the two of them, the blistering heat, and the dead reception tower for miles.

Jaune gets to his feet, stiffly approaching despite stumbling down the small remaining dunes. She watches him flex and clench his hands as he nears, until he’s just inches away from her, standing shoulder to shoulder. He stares up at the relay tower while she stares at the smooth expanse of his cheek.

Her fingers twitch.

“Yes. I can boost you,” he says finally, after they’ve stood there for a moment. She nods. After hovering with hesitation for a half-second, Jaune puts his hand on her shoulder.

Pyrrha gasps, reeling from the sensation.

Once before, she’d felt this power- the clear, pure, and deep well of Jaune’s soul. Back then, it had been just a moment, a passing awareness. Now, Jaune’s aura flows through her, intense and all-encompassing. It’s a cool stream, a fresh snow, a crisp mint leaf, an ocean wave-

“Hey, hey,” Jaune snaps, suddenly in front of her. He steadies her by the shoulders, searching her eyes with panic. “What’s wrong?”

Pyrrha surprises herself by laughing, joy as clear as wind chimes. When she lifts her goggles to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes, they evaporate from her skin almost immediately. He lets go of her shoulders and steps back, swallowing hard.

“I was right,” Pyrrha gasps, trying to catch her breath. “You do have a lot of aura. Jaune, that’s amazing!”

For a moment, Jaune’s face is open and hopeful, beaming with something close to joy. Then something shifts; his expression shutters as surely as the city of Vacuo before a sandstorm. He takes another step to the side, keeping his hands to himself.

“It’s… well, yeah.” He sighs, looking up at the defunct lights that line the vertical beams of the tower. “I’m not the same stupid kid I was at Beacon.”

What?

Pyrrha opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She squeaks, furious at her voice for abandoning her. She reaches out for Jaune, but draws back almost immediately. He side-eyes her, gaze dropping to her hand, then to the sand at their feet.

“I can do less, if it’s easier. Just figured you’d want to get back to campus as soon as possible, you know?” Jaune continues, concentrating until his hands shimmer with aura. “I also don’t have to touch you. I should have asked. That’s on me.”

She frantically massages her throat with both hands, trying to get her fingers to find purchase on the sweat-soaked skin under her chin. Jaune frowns at the ground again, hand hovering near his belt now.

Finally, her voice struggles free. “Jaune, I–”

He hushes her. Somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers, hand firm on the hilt of Crocea Mors now. Pyrrha feels anger swell and flare in her heart at the dismissal.

“Jaune, this is important–!”

It doesn’t matter how important what she needs to say next is.

The ground beneath them explodes.

4. sweaty

Beware sudden dunes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jaune shouts as the burst of sand sends him flying several feet into the air.

The brisk advice had come from a fair number of people, namely members of CFVY who he'd tagged along with on missions in the early days of their return. The vagueness was purposeful, as any number of wildlife, geographic features, ruins, weather, or worse, Grimm, could cause new sand dune to arise. Velvet had at least elaborated with a story about a huge family of mole crabs.

This was no mole crab.

Jaune recovers midair, twisting to get his bearings as huge claws flail menacingly, reaching for purchase and prey. In mere seconds, the creature uncovers itself, shaking off sand to reveal its inky black carapace, ashen boney plates, glowing red markings, crimson eyes, and golden stinger.

“Deathstalker!” Jaune calls out, unsure where Pyrrha is. He expands his shield and lets its hard light wings catch the wind, carrying him out and away from the relay tower. He stumbles into a run at the far edge of the crater made of dunes. Now that he turns around, frantically sweeping his gaze across the landscape, it’s relatively obvious that the dunes that allowed the tower's full height to be revealed were hiding something dangerous. Relay towers didn’t sit in craters of their own making, not in this ever-shifting landscape.

Not again. No, no. Where is she?

He searches for bright red among the settling sand cloud, shielding his eyes as the Grimm hisses. It swivels its body toward the communication tower. Jaune’s heart sinks as he sees the object of its focus.

Pyrrha crouches within the twisted spire of the relay tower, precariously balancing one of the remaining beams. Her newly forged weapons, not too dissimilar from Miló and Akoúo̱, glint in her hands. The blade of Mellon, in its short sword form, retracts on its cord as she watches warily, making the sound that the creature hones in on. Though she is still, the whirring is like catnip; this Grimm is on the hunt.

“It can hear you!” Jaune shouts to her, running down the dune to the fight. Nothing else is likely to be here, right? A Grimm this big shouldn’t tolerate too many others. But a Grimm this big shouldn’t be so close to the settlements either! …I guess anything’s possible with three Kingdom’s worth of stress calling every Grimm on Remnant.

As he’d expected, the Grimm swivels toward him, its beady red eyes glimmering in the sunlight. With the scattered sand settling, the heat becomes oppressive again. He ducks and parries the pincher that swings toward him with his sword, then blocks the other with his shield. The impact nearly squashes him, but he activates his shield to force it back. His timing is perfect, almost instinctual now.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha shouts from above. As the deflected claw rears into the sky, a swarm of shrapnel attacks the creature’s face, piercing its eyes until they weep black and red sludge. Jaune scrambles out of the way as it flails and screeches in agony. Pyrrha clambers down the ladder-like structure, face unreadable behind her goggles.

The sand explodes in front of them as the Deathstalker slams its stinger into the sand where he’d just been standing.

“Great!” Jaune shouts bitterly as they sprint away from it, putting the relay tower between them and the monster. “Now it’s pissed and blind!”

“I’m sorry! It was about to crush you!” Pyrrha cries out. “What else was I supposed to do?”

He rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer. What else indeed.

The Deathstalker screeches behind them, drowning out Jaune’s harsh bark of laughter. Still, Pyrrha looks at him oddly, tilting her head. He ignores her, looking around. The Grimm itself is nearly half the size of the crater. The only thing nearby is the tower, its twisted metal, and the concrete platform that anchors it in the desert. Above them, the bulk of it twists to the side like a misshapen crane arm.

“Get us up there!” Jaune demands, gratified that Pyrrha questions neither his order nor his tone. She immediately crouches and launches him off her shield. Carefully composed as he soars upward, Jaune grabs one of the steel beams and pulls himself onto it. Pyrrha follows, wrapping Mellon’s grappling cable around a piece of metal a few feet away. It carries her to safety for the second time today just as the Grimm scuttles over, ramming its stinger into the sand again. Its struggle to remove the stinger conceals the sound of the cord retracting this time.

Small mercies.

Pyrrha looks over her weapons in her hands, perched next to him. “Jaune-”

“I’m thinking!” he hisses, watching the beast howl with frustration as sand sprays up into the air and its stinger comes up empty.

She yanks her neck gaiter down to her collar and lifts her goggles into her bangs. “Listen to me!”

“What part of thinking-”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha cries out. “I’m not going to lose you again!”

“You didn’t lose me, Pyrrha!” Jaune snaps back. “You can’t lose something on purpose.”

This high in the air, the hot, dry wind whips around them. Pyrrha licks her lips, expression pinched in a rare moment of irritation.

“What?”

The tide within Jaune swells. The wave crests, but it doesn’t break. He looks away, trying to spot the shimmering mirage of Vacuo city in the far distance. At this time of day, it’s too hazy with the darkening sky to see much of anything.

“I thought you remembered everything,” he mutters. Then he swallows, “this isn’t the time for this.”

Get it together.

“I fail to see any other time for it!” Pyrrha exclaims, voice cracking. “Why is it that it takes mortal peril for us to talk to each other?”

“No way! You don’t get to put this on me!” Jaune snarls, unable to quell the vicious bite in his voice. “All I ever wanted to do was talk to you! You couldn’t even let me return the favor! You kept me going at Beacon, day in and day out, but when the time came for you to actually trust me, you shoved me away! You didn’t even give me a chance-”

“Ozpin didn’t even want us fighting her!” Pyrrha puts her shield on her back so she can balance better, coiled like a spring on the precarious perch. Jaune mirrors her, except he sheaths his sword instead. Old, buried anger comes to the surface. He’s kneeling amongst the rubble of Vale again, trying to make sense of the locker he’s just crawled out of and hoping against hope that he’s having a particularly bad nightmare.

“Exactly! Ozpin died fighting Cinder! But you thought you could do it by yourself?” Jaune laughs bitterly, all too aware that there are tears streaming down his face. “Do you know how many times I’ve defended you and your last choice? Surely, I thought, surely my partner didn’t ship me off and go get herself killed in a fight she knew she'd lose! Of course she thought she stood a chance! Of course she just needed to get me out of her way!”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Even the Grimm is quiet beneath them.

“Did you… Did you just think I thought you were in my way?" Pyrrha shouts, eyes wide in disbelief.

Jaune doesn’t hesitate to snipe back. “What else was I supposed to think?”

Pyrrha’s face twists with pain or anger; they’re so unfamiliar on her countenance that it’s hard to tell. She clenches her empty hand, pressing her fist against her thigh.

“I was protecting you!”

“I didn’t need you to protect me!” Jaune counters, as the wave of anger finally crashes to shore. “I needed you, Pyrrha!”

5. gentle

In two weeks and three days, Jaune has not once said her name.

His initial silence was unsettling. His surprised stare was unyielding. After all of the excitement and questions had settled, he’d finally spoken, cutting across the chatter.

“Robyn, could you?”

She’d taken Pyrrha’s hand again, almost apologetically, then nodded at Jaune. He’d taken a deep breath, before looking her in the eye, seeing her and not just past her. She’d shivered, feeling undone by his intensity.

“What are you?”

Those three words inspired nothing but confusion. “I… I don’t think I understand. What am I? I’m… a huntress-in-training? A girl?”

Your partner?

She’d kept that one to herself.

Despite wanting to puzzle out the expression on his face, she glanced down in time to watch Robyn’s aura shimmer from pale purple to bright green. She looked back up at Jaune, at Ruby and her team who looked between her and him with varying levels of disapproval and understanding. Finally, Jaune sat back in his chair and sighed, apparently content with that answer. The tension still did not leave his shoulders.

“Alright then,” he said quietly into the silence. “Welcome back.”

The greeting felt hollow, especially since he went out of his way to avoid her from that moment onward. In fact, between her miraculous return and their current mission, she could count their conversations on her fingers.

Now, she rubs her fingertips on the woven texture of her compression tights, savoring the distracting sensation. There’s nothing else to say but the truth.

“I knew I was going to lose you,” Pyrrha insists, using the word that had started this entire argument. “But I wanted you to at least be alive if I had to.”

Jaune is pale, his fury waning by the moment. The tear tracks on his cheeks dry almost as quickly as they’re created. “What did that matter? We could have both made it out. It wasn’t… You didn’t… Damn it, Pyrrha.”

“Jaune, hear me please. Running would have killed me, even if I still drew breath,” Pyrrha swallows nervously, but the lump that has plagued her all these days is completely gone. She continues, “I thought if I fought, I might survive. I could live or die with that, if you were okay. I hadn’t abandoned my duty and I hadn’t failed you.”

“But you made me abandon you.”

Pyrrha smiles, just for a moment. “That was selfish of me, wasn’t it?”

“It was!” Jaune shouts, flinging his free hand out so hard he nearly loses his balance. Pyrrha flings her own hand out, yanking his breastplate toward her with her semblance. He yelps as he stumbles forward over the metal trusses, nearly colliding with her. He flails for a moment, but quickly regains his balance.

The tower groans. With both of them tipping the scale away from the base, its stability compromises rapidly. Pyrrha glances down at the scuttling Grimm beneath them, still wandering in the fugue of its own rage and agony.

“Yes. It was,” Pyrrha whispers. She relaxes her semblance, allowing him to move away from her.

Jaune doesn’t budge. Neither of them do, knelt precariously across from each other. Her hand hovers between them, still outstretched and bare. Gently, she places her hand on his cheek, expecting him to flinch. But he doesn’t. He leans into it, sighing and letting his eyes slip closed. His skin is rough to the touch, with soft barely-there hairs that tickle the ridges of her finger pads. It’s a wonder all of its own, the feeling of her skin pressed to his.

“I have always loved fighting by your side, Jaune,” Pyrrha murmurs, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone and wiping his tears away. “It terrified me that you might die by mine.”

“Then let me choose that,” Jaune whispers. “You owe me at least that much.”

The metal scaffold beneath them shudders, nearly throwing them off. Pyrrha keeps them both pinned to it, gasping with the force of the continued ramming. Below them, the Grimm has finally given up on trying to reach them directly. It slams its pinchers into the heavily fortified poles at the base, screeching in frustration. They gawk at it, then at each other as the metal beneath them begins to creak and sway even more. The Deathstalker screeches and turns in a circle, viciously stabbing into the stand with its claws.

“Okay,” Pyrrha promises quickly, though the thought of it seizes her heart in a familiar vice grip. “I swear I won’t… I won’t make that choice for you again.”

Jaune nods into her hand, closing his eyes briefly. He sighs.

“To be clear though,” Jaune says with a tiny, watery laugh, “I’m not trying to die by your side anytime soon. Or ever?”

Pyrrha responds with a tiny giggle of her own as the Deathstalker begins to slam the tower again, jostling them. “So not today?”

“Definitely not today!” Jaune yelps. “Fight and live?”

“Fight and live!” Pyrrha repeats, pulling away to put Mellon back in her belt. They scramble to their feet, running for the main tower as the metal twists and groans beneath them. Jaune turns back to grab her hand, helping them both stay steady as they leap for the tiny grate that acts as a service platform within the main body of the tower. Some twenty feet below, the Deathstalker continues to bellow and batter the foundation, its single-minded hatred fueling it beyond reason. That fury makes it dangerous to fight up close, but in a few more hits, they won’t have a choice.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha shouts over the cacophony of bestial rage and structural collapse. He tears his gaze away from the furious Grimm and raises an eyebrow at her. She squeezes his hand and grins. “Help me?”

He smiles in understanding. This time, when Jaune activates his semblance, Pyrrha is ready for the burst of power and energy that flows through her. She flings out her free hand toward the huge piece of tower that had been their perch, seizing it and flipping her wrist to twist it off the main structure.

The motion shakes the tower, but Jaune catches her by the waist, anchoring them both by clinging to the foundation beam nearby. Pyrrha gasps her thanks, then continues to focus on the task at hand. She lifts the huge chunk of metal as easily as a handful of ball bearings, then crushes her fist, shaping it into a wicked javelin of steel.

Then, with Jaune holding her steady, she flings the makeshift weapon at the Deathstalker’s back. The Grimm screeches in agony as its carapace rips in two, expelling viscous sludge several feet into the air. Flailing its stinger, it struggles where it's skewered into the sand, then finally goes limp. It, and its sludge, dissipate, carrying black ash onto the wind and into oblivion.

They both relax their semblances as one, exhaling with relief. Still Jaune doesn’t let go of her; she makes no effort to move away. Further beyond the relay tower, the sun sinks below the horizon, throwing reds, oranges, and dark purples into the sky.

“Uh, well… if headmaster Theodore asks…” Jaune clears his throat, looking down at the metal carnage below them. The Grim had completely destroyed every bit of the distribution box and shredded the cable connection. CCT technicians, they were not, but anyone could see it was beyond hope. “It was like that when we got here?”

Pyrrha snorts once, then again and again until she’s howling with laughter. She turns and throws her arms around his neck, gratified when he hugs her back with the same intensity. The tower trembles a little underneath them, but it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Neither are they.

She’s been back for two weeks, three days, and a handful of hours, but only now does Pyrrha feel that she’s home.

“Hey, Pyr?” The love in the nickname punches the wind out of her lungs. She nods into his shoulder until he continues. “The next time you want me to leave, just ask, okay?”

She nods again, clinging to him even tighter. However, she knows, just as well as he does, that she could want nothing less than that. She pauses, concerned.

Does he know? Please… I need him to know.

Choked, Pyrrha murmurs, “I never want you to leave me again, Jaune.”

She can hear the tears in his voice as he replies, “Okay, good, we’re on the same page then.”

Let’s stay that way.

Their trek back to Shade takes much longer than their breakneck outgoing pace. They take down small Grimm here and there, chatting about pasts both separate and shared, walking shoulder to shoulder in the cooling desert. He hugs her before leaving her at her room door, promising breakfast together. It’s both the most normal and oddest thing that has happened in her whole second life.

Exhausted, Pyrrha showers and crawls under her blanket. Whatever missions she had today, Nora isn’t back yet, though it’s plenty late enough for their nightly life updates. Somehow though, she knows she wouldn’t be able to listen for very long. Her eyelids droop shut and she snuggles into her pillow, grateful for its softness.

“I can only do this for you,” whispers the memory of an unfamiliar voice, just as she’s drifting off. “You’ll arrive just when you’re needed and you’ll arrive just when you need it. You’ll say what you need when the time is right to say it and you’ll listen when you need to hear. Everything beyond that is up to you.”

When she wakes the next morning, it’s because Nora is bouncing on the end of her bed.

“Pyr, wake up! It’s Friday! It’s five-thirty and it’s already hot!” Nora announces gleefully. Moreso than other mornings, she can’t help but notice her energy seems more genuine than usual, more like the joy she once had at Beacon. “Get up, get up! I want breakfast!”

Pyrrha sits up slowly, combing her fingers through her hair. Small grains of sand fall to the blanket. She also has the distinct sensation of a dream slipping through her fingers. She frowns, grasping for the memory to no avail.

“Pyrrha?” Nora asks, coming to rest on her knees in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She blinks at her friend and smiles. “I had a dream I think… I just can’t remember it anymore.”

At this Nora beams and crows, “Dreams, scheams! Who needs them? We have the whole day ahead of us!”

Her hope and enthusiasm is contagious. Pyrrha grins and sweeps her into a tight hug. Nora squeaks and hugs her back, obviously startled but not unhappy about it. When she finally pulls back, neither of them mention the tears on the other’s cheeks.

“You said something about breakfast?”

Nora takes her by the hand and drags her out of bed, then throws her combat outfit at her face. She catches it easily.

“Yep! And it waits for no one! Come on, we have so much to do today!”

Pyrrha can feel her heartbeat quicken with joy, tugging her lips into a smile.

Today, and everyday after that…

It’s a life worth fighting for.

Epilogue

Thursday Evening

Theodore sighs. “Oz, this is a risky gamble you’re taking.”

The nickname makes him twitch a little bit.

Half a dozen conversations have come and gone, not to mention a host of different people needing their audience. Oscar makes no decisions without Theodore’s council and he makes none without Rumpole’s. They’ve been in this office for hours, and yet there’s no question of the gamble to which he refers. It’s been a few hours since he’d called Jaune in for a mission assignment.

“Oscar,” he reminds the headmaster. True, it was Ozpin’s memory of JNPR’s initiation shenanigans that had given him the idea, but it was a plan all of his own. “And it’s nothing they can’t handle.”

“How long do you think it’ll take for them to realize we’ve sent them to a defunct relay tower with an active Deathstalker den?” Rumpole mutters.

“Hopefully longer than it takes for them to say what they need to say to each other,” Oscar replies, sipping his cactus leaf tea.

Rumpole is even shorter than Oscar, but her unimpressed glare manages to make him shrink into his chair a bit, chagrined.

“I may… also have Ren and Nora on standby at the current Western relay node, just a half mile way?” Oscar admits, flushing. “If something goes wrong, they’ll handle it.”

This made Theodore laugh loudly, his voice booming in the tiny office. Oscar winces at the sound, but it’s impossible to escape it. By the time the older man finishes, he has tears in his eyes.

“Ah yes, the other partner duo famous for currently getting along!”

“How convenient,” Rumpole drawls, dusting off her vest with a roll of her eyes.

“Two Nevermore, one bullet,” Oscar quips. He salutes them with his teacup and heads for the door.

Well, you certainly seem rather pleased with yourself, says Ozpin, amusement plain as day.

Oscar smiles into his tea, a small smile just between them.

By magic and miracles beyond his own power, Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren had each other once more. With these little nudges, team JNPR will surely ride again, changed but whole.

It’s the least we could do, don’t you think?

#arkos #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #rwby #rwby fic #remnants of rwby: fanworks exchange #kina updates #i am unreasonably proud of this one i really hope you like it!#ssarkosghost

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