#squirrel brain and we both immediately forgot to put them into practice

[shiegra]

my mom loyally going 'well why don't you have subscribers? you SHOULD have subscribers' as I try to set up ko-fi tiers

and i'm like 'you know that thing about how you're bad at self-promotion on IG? I am ALSO very bad at self promotion on any platform'

and then we stand there in the garden reflecting solemnly on being awkward creatives instead of PR professionals for a bit lmao

[bidaryl]

that time i was like hey au where daryl gets sent back to the start of the apocalypse hehe but then i was like fuck! what IF!!!! and got emo thinking about it realistically and started writing it :(

He wakes up when it’s just him and Merle on the road.

He went to bed the night before, so incredibly fucking tired. After everything that had gone down those past few months - Beta being alive; the trek back to Alexandria; answering people’s questions about the future; fuckin’ Negan; Lydia not trusting nobody, including him; whatever shit Carol was going through - he was fucking wiped. Asskicker had managed to convince him to take her outside the walls, asked him to teach her how to hunt, how to track. They’d spent hours out there after first light, him showing her some of the basic stuff; how to tell apart different tracks, how to set quick effective traps, other small things. She told him ‘bout Michonne leaving. Daryl had a few thoughts about that, but Jude already looked like she was one bad feeling away from crying, so he shifted focus and changed the subject. She’d picked up tracking quickly, almost quicker than Beth had. Had turned to him at one point of the day after they’d stopped to have lunch, begging to stay outside for a few more hours. Wanting to practice more. He wasn’t exactly a seasoned pro at saying no to her, he had a bad habit of giving in quickly to most of the kids he knew, but the Whisperer’s group was still at large - Beta and his followers were still out there - and after a few promises and compromises, he’d convinced her to come back inside the gates. Told her he’d let her take the lead the next time they came out, warning her it couldn’t be the next day, reasoning he had things he had to do back home, but promised her they could come back out soon. After they’d walked back inside the walls, he made a small appearance at dinner, checked in with the people on guard duty, then headed to the Grimes’ house. Fell onto his bed without even taking his shoes off and crashed. Next thing he knew, he was waking up to a rough kick to the legs and Merle’s cheery voice.

“Wasting daylight, Darleena, c’mon, chop chop, let’s go!” - he claps his hands - “time to wake the fuck up.” Merle adds another kick for good measure before walking off. Daryl pushes up onto his elbows, looking around and trying to get a grasp of where they are and what time it is, before giving up almost immediately when his brain catches up and realises if Merle’s here, he’s dreaming. Or hallucinating. Either way, this ain’t real. He sits up slowly before thinking - fuck it. Might as well see his brother while he’s around. He makes a move and gets up, grabs his jacket from where it was being used as a makeshift pillow, and heads outside. The area looks vaguely familiar but also like every wood Merle and him have ever camped in, so he continues walking over to where Merle’s standing before sitting down and grabbing the spoon and can his brother left out for him.

“No biters so far, but we should keep movin’, get ahead of the ones travellin’ out from the city,” Merle starts, nods his head to his pile stuff that’s already packed up, and stands, stomping out the small fire he had going. “This spot’s gonna be overrun before we can blink. We gotta move out.” Merle wanders off beyond the tree line, muttering something about taking a piss, yelling a “Hurry up and pack your shit!” over his shoulder before disappearing. Daryl nods to himself, quickly shovels what’s left of the can in his mouth and scans the area to figure out what stuff there’s still left to pack. Thinks to himself that it’s a stupid ass dream he’s having, Merle bossin’ him around and making him clean up. Makes him feel like he’s 4 years old again, doin’ Merle’s chores for him.

By the time Merle walks back over, Daryl’s got the tent and sleeping bag all folded up and put together, his bow leaning against the his bike, bag packed and ready to go.

“We good?” Merle asked, grabbing his own collection of things and walking over, standing next to his own ride.

Daryl does one last sweep before nodding and asks which way they’re going as he mounts his bike.

Merle gives him a look, “The fuck you mean, ‘Which way we goin’?’ done told ya, we been over this five times already.” He shakes his head before climbing his bike, starts the engine and rides out. Daryl shrugs and follows. Dream Merle’s as temperamental as real life Merle. Daryl can roll with that.

They ride for the rest of the day, taking mainly back roads and hidden trails they only know about cause they grew up round these parts, avoiding highways as much as possible, still only making it barely 2 hours from where they first started that morning. Daryl follows while Merle leads, stopping twice to try find some gas. He spends the first hour or so feeling guilty, feeling like actual fucking shit, watching Merle zip around abandoned cars, using signals to direct him, wondering how Merle got so faded in his memory. Turns out theres nothing like having the ghost of his dead brother right in front of him to make him realise how many small details Daryl’s forgot about him, how much his memory’s erased him over time. 

He spends the rest of the day taking everything in, getting familiar again. Merle’s about as loud and annoying and chatty and demanding as Daryl remembers. Still a pain in the ass, but Daryl forgot about the way Merle told his stories; not just with words, but with his hands, his face. Forgot about how it was Merle who taught him how to ride. How no matter how good Daryl gets on his bike, how many little tricks he learns, how many rides he fixes; he’s always just gonna be second best to Merle. For a second, he wonders why he’s dreaming about this specific part of his life, but figures this isn’t exactly the first time he’s dreamt of Merle, and it’s probably not gonna be the last. Takes a moment to consider whether or not there’s a reason to be dreaming this vividly - a head injuries or an attack. Think’s to himself - maybe he’s dead and his afterlife is just him and Merle, riding around together on their bikes. Rolls his shoulders and jerks his head, tells himself he’s not fucking dead.

Merle’s up ahead, ranting about some shit Daryl wasn’t there for and hollering at his own punchline. Daryl kinda wants to tell him to shut the fuck up but can’t bring himself to say it. He hasn’t heard Merle’s voice outside of his dreams and hallucinations for almost 9 years. It always shakes him up, how much he misses him. Decides if this is a dream, he ain’t about to complain. 

He keeps riding.

He’s on first watch that night when they settle into a spot, Merle asleep in his tent after having a beer and a smoke. Daryl keeps scanning the treeline and surrounding woods, more out of muscle memory than protection, too distracted thinking about the day he’s just had. Merle’s here, alive and well, being one of the most warm and comforting illusions Daryl’s had in years. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, the last time he didn’t have blood covering his hands. Feel’s like a prick for being so dramatic; it’s not like he’s Maggie, Michonne, or hell - the King. Never had to bare those responsibilities the way they’ve had do. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he sits, shifts his focus to something else. Tries to think about what he’s gonna say to Lydia tomorrow. He knows Negans talk with her ended with them both in tears, her storming out; know’s she doesn’t trust any of them anymore. Gives up and sighs when he realises he’s got no choice but to accept that he’s got no fucking idea how to reason with a teenager, how to word things so she can understand, especially with her well earned trust issues and abandonment complex.

Him and Merle switch out a few hours later, Merle on watch and Daryl sleeping. Daryl gives Merle a clap on the back as they pass each other, know’s when he wakes up tomorrow it’s just gonna be him in the Grimes’ basement. He has a brief second where he thinks about saying fuck it and giving Merle a hug, but decides against it. Not like they were ever the touchy feely type to begin with.

When he wakes up the next morning, it’s bright as fuck. There’s birds chirping, there’s whistling, some clinking of a fork hitting metal. Merle’s voice carrying. Daryl pats himself down, takes in how he’s in the same clothes he went to sleep in, the same tent, and quickly gathers his bow and his knife and rushes outside the tent.

“The hell?” Merle yells, doing a double take as Daryl stands there, crossbow up and aimed. “The hell’s got your panties in a twist? Jesus, fuck. You dreamin’ about the chupacabra again? Bigfoot? Good Lord.” He bends down and starts rummaging around his bag, “Here, calm the fuck down, eat this,” holding out a bar and passing it over, muttering under his breath “jump out of the tent, gun’s blazing, fuck me, give me a damn near heart attack.”

Daryl slowly lowers his bow and stands there for a few seconds before stepping forward slowly and grabbing the snack, staring at Merle the whole time. He takes a bite or two then throws it back before tightening his grip on his weapon, bending down to grab a bottle for some water then heads for the trees without a word. Merle calls out to him, telling him to catch some rabbit instead of squirrel this time. Daryl doesn’t acknowledge him.

He’s still there when Daryl gets back.

Daryl decides he’s fucking done with this dream. Doesn’t get why his subconscious couldn’t give him a greatest hits reel. Like, yeah, let him remember his time with his brother, but maybe also let him relive some of the early days on the farm or some of the early days in Alexandria. Remember the run that he, Jesus, Tara, and Aaron went on that one time. Maybe remember the first time Judith attempted to say his name. The day he and Dog found each other. Maybe even let him relive some days before the fucking world ended. 

It takes less than a minute for the guilt to set in, instantly feeling like a prick. Merle died for him and for his family, and he’s fucking missed his brother. So what if Dream Merle never stops complaining? He fucking wishes life would go back to being this simple, when these were his biggest problems. Wishes Merle could’ve made it this far. Could’ve seen what was to come, what they could’ve built.

When he wakes up the next morning, Merle’s still there. Still chatty, still loud, still wanting food they don’t have. Still got 20 different opinions about things that don’t even matter anymore.

4th morning in and he wakes up to Merle having a smoke and thinks maybe, possibly, something’s going on. Maybe it’s more than just a dream. Feels like he should try and figure his shit out. Weighs the options of it being just a really elaborate dream, or a massive mind fuck hallucination. His mind provides the term ‘time travel’ but Daryl’s not gonna fucking acknowledge that. Wonders if he got a head injury without realising and he’s in a coma. Maybe this is what Rick felt like back when he woke up at the start of all this. He quirks a lip up at the irony.

The 5th day in is when he knows something is definitely fucking going on.

The 5th day is when they run into the Atlanta group. He spots Shane and T-Dog first, then Glenn and Lori. Daryl steps back, tries to think if he’s ever dreamt about Lori or about Shane, while Merle steps forward and does all the talking again. It’s an exact replica of the last time this happened. They all come to the same uneasy agreement to let the brothers stay, Glenn swaying the result in their favour again. Daryl feels sick. Glenn’s talking, saying how it’ll be good to have people that know how to hunt, who know what’s safe to eat from the woods, how useful it’ll be to have more muscle. Daryl feels like he can’t fucking breath. He wants to run up to him, wants to fucking hug him, wants to throw up right there, on the spot. Instead he just stands there, takes in Glenn’s face and the lack of blood or brain matter, the way he looks and sounds so young, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat and breath. Merle starts moving forward and Daryl follows on auto pilot. 

They make their way slowly onto the camp, the rest of the group looking as standoffish about the Dixon brothers staying as they did the first time. Daryl lets Merle deal with their shit, grabs his bow and heads out into the woods straight away. He hears Andrea scoff behind him.

Out in the woods, he tells himself he’s gonna take a moment to properly think shit through now, for real this time. Try and figure about what’s happening to him. Ain’t no way this is all just a fucking dream. Sure as shit ain’t no coma, either. Shit’s too fucking real. It’s been 10 years since the world went up in shit and he’s had enough knocks to the head to know his memories of the start are gonna be a little hazy. He tries to pinpoint certain moments but it’s rough, tries to remember the specifics of how things originally went down but knows that while he’s observant, always has been, he was still on the outskirts of the group. Wern’t ever really let in on all the details before their time at the farm and he never really put that much effort into learning earlier. He didn’t bother nobody and nobody bothered him. 

The start was so fucking simple.

He guesses he remembers the general gist of some things. He can remembers standing back and letting Merle run the show. Doesn't remember Carol ever holding herself like that. Remembers the way Lori looked at him; like he was no better than the geeks, like it was him who her family was threatened by. Doesn't remember Sophia or Carl ever being that small. Remembers how Shane tried to be the leader, loud and tough. Wants to grab a knife and end Shane now, thinking about the story he spun of what happened to Otis. The night Glenn and him found Randall in the woods, neck broken, two sets of foot prints. He remembers Rick, and how he made being a leader look natural, almost effortless, how people just instinctively knew to trust him, to believe in him. How he had the entire group listening to him within a day of setting foot into camp. 

The sound of trees rustling brings him back to the present and he snaps into action. Out in the woods ain’t no place to let down your guard, no matter how safe you think you are. He lets himself get pulled back into the task at hand, spotting something moving out of the corner of his eye and shakes himself off, catching everyone some dinner. Specifically aims to get Carls and Glenns favourites even though he knows their tastebuds don’t really adjust to road life until the farm falls. 

It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

Glenn thanks him for dinner that night. Lori makes Carl say thanks, too. Sophia and Amy do it without any prompting. Daryl suddenly can’t stomach this, can’t sit here with his family and look at them, knowing whats to come. He excuses himself and goes to sleep wishing with everything in him that he could wake the fuck up now.

Lays there and chews at his thumbnail, thinks he doesn’t know how much longer he can talk to his ghosts.

Later that night in his tent, while Dale and Andrea keep watch and everyone sleeps, he reaches the conclusion that no matter what option he chooses, they’re all fucking crazy. 

He’s not ready to deal with everything if it’s a permanent thing. Not ready for any of this to be real, to spend the next 8 years meeting everyone that’s ever mattered to him again. To look at them and remember how they died. Thinks he also isn’t ready to accept this could just be a dream, that he could wake up any minute now in a world without Glenn, without Carl, no Sophia. Most of his family fading back into his memories and dreams.  

So he ignores the voice in his head and decides he’s gonna let it go, falls back into the safety of letting himself believe it’s a dream. Convinces himself he doesn’t wanna make waves if he’s just injured and unconscious and this is his minds way of trying to let himself heal. Even goes as far as to let himself feel pissed off about his minds idea of taking a peaceful trip down memory lane is by taking him to the beginning of the end, when the world went to shit. 

If he’s being real with himself though, he has to admit that maybe those first few months of the apocalypse weren’t all that bad for him. It was just him and Merle and the bikes and his crossbow. No money problems, no close calls with the law, no more upperclass or businessmen around to look down on him for being redneck trailer trash. 

He’s always felt more at home in the woods than any four walls and roof, knows how to navigate the stars, has been living off the land since before he could write. He was thriving when all this began. Wern’t close enough to anyone outside of Merle, never had anyone to worry about, anyone to lose.

The world turned upside down and he came out on top.

Merle brings up the plan to rob the camp a few nights later. They’re on watch together, Daryl having rigged up the perimeter with some string and cans; so they’re kinda just standing around, staring into the night. He talks under his breath with Daryl just in earshot, saying how they need to figure out the best things to take, then haul ass when they do. Whispers that they’re just gonna take the most useful stuff, how it’s not like these city slickers are gonna make it much further anyway. How they’re doing them a favour. Daryl thinks about Glenn in Alexandria, everything that went down with Nicholas and Noah. Throws his mind back to the prison, when he carried Carol out of the tombs after she survived for days on her own, after everyone had considered her dead. Takes a steadying breath and walks away, throwing a ‘whatever.’ over his shoulder.

They’ve been at the camp for just under two weeks when Merle goes to leave with Glenn and the others for the city. That’s when he starts to open himself up to the time travel option.

Everything up until this stage has been more or less calm. He gets up, he hunts, he takes watch, he sleeps. Rinse and repeat. Nothing strenuous, nothing life changing, just a peaceful two weeks of hanging out with his brother and his family.

He’d been rationalising everything to himself, telling himself that if he’s going through trauma and his mind’s officially breaking after 10 years of tragedies and losses, then this is okay. He’s happy to hang out here, back when things were simple and easy. He’s happy to see Carl and Sophia get homeschooled and run around and be kids. Happy to see Carl and Lori back together. More than happy to see Glenn float around camp and get into everything, learn about cars, hang out with the kids, plan trips to the city. Pretty fucking content to sit back and watch Carol and Sophia walk around together.

But then Merle mentions the city run, and Shane and Lori are having secret meetings outside camp together, and Ed’s going stir crazy, ranting about being stuck in the woods for weeks on end with no rescue mission in sight. Dales on top of the RV everyday, setting his watch, being on guard. And it’s too familiar. It’s fucking suffocating. It’s exactly how it went down the first time. Before he realises it, he’s volunteering himself to go on the run instead.

Merle laughs.

Glenn looks between the two brothers, trying to figure out the best approach. Daryl’s better in the woods, not that Merle’s bad, but Daryl’s got more patience than Merle could dream. He always comes back with more food than the older brother, will spend all day out there to make sure everyone at camp gets a full ration, even takes the time to help dress and skin the animals, showing the girls how to do it properly. Merle’s not as particular, more than happy to stroll back into camp with half the amount and ready to dump it and let the ladies do the work.

“You’re needed here, it’s fine. Merle can come with us.” Glenn reasons, “We’re only gonna be gone a few hours, in and out, no problem. We can handle Merle.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’,” Daryl heads to his tent, grabs his crossbow and his backpack, double checks he has his knives, and heads out towards the truck.

Merle stops laughing the second he sees Daryls face and sees the serious look in his eyes, like Daryl thinks he’s already won the argument.

“Now, now, little brother, what on earth do you want with Atlanta?” he puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, holding him in place, “You stay here, keep these people feed, and Ol’ Merle will head into the city, keep these city slickers in line. We’re all good here.”

Merle makes a move to head to the truck, nodding at Glenn that things are settled, before Daryl speaks up again.

“You’re staying here, man. Glenn says the city’s overrun. If he’s gonna take a group for the first time, they need’a be quiet and quick. That ain’t you.” Daryl holds Merles eyes for a moment before moving past him, looking to Glenn and raising his eyebrows. “We good to go?”

Glenn glances between the brothers one last time before nodding at Daryl. “Yeah. We’re good. We gotta go now though, if we wanna be back before dark.”

Daryl nods and looks at Merle one last time before making a move to go stand near the back of the truck, waiting for T-Dog while everyone slowly resumes what they were doing. Merle stays standing in the same spot, looking on in part disbelief and part pissed off. Daryl looks on from the corner of his eye, watching as Merle stalks off to his tent before stomping back out and heading for the trees. The camp seems to let out a sigh of relief in his absence and Daryl feels guilty to leave them with him, especially considering his mood, but then remembers how Merle never returned from this trip the first time. 

He tells himself that this is the right move, that Merle can make it this time, he can grow to care for the group the same way Daryl did the first time ‘round. Merle can be a fucking asshole at the best of times, but he knows how to care when you give him a reason. If you’re unlucky enough to have him as an enemy, you better run; but if you’re one of the lucky ones that he considers kin, he’ll have your back for life.

[soloragoldsun]

Freezerburn Week- Day 3: Studying

Weiss’s notecards went flying as the door to Team RWBY’s room swung open.

“And the Ice Queen is now on break!” Yang declared as she stepped into the dorm. “Drop the textbooks, and step away from the packets!”

“Yang,” Weiss groaned as she started picking her cards up off the floor. “Finals are in three days. I need to focus.”

“You’ve been focusing since this morning,” Yang said flatly. “Since last week, actually. Your brain’s gonna turn to oatmeal if you keep this up.”

“If I don’t keep this up, I’ll fail Doctor Oobleck’s exam, and probably Professor Peach’s as well.” Weiss put the stack on her desk and started looking for her history textbook. Yang walked over, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t all those talks about ‘healthy studying practices’ say that you need to take a few breaks each day?”

“That…” Weiss frowned. Yang was actually right about that, though she hated to admit it. She glanced at her clock and sighed. “Fine. One hour.” She took out her Scroll to set a timer before starting toward her book case.

“Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Reading.”

Yang groaned. “Weiss, you’ve been reading all day. Come on. The weather is actually nice for once! We can go outside without wearing fifty layers.”

Weiss paused, tilting her head curiously, realizing that she hadn’t actually looked outside that day. Despite it being spring, the weather had been decidedly dismal over the past few weeks, without even the beauty of snow to soften it. She opened the window and was met with a surprisingly-pleasant breeze. She felt her muscles loosening in response to the scent of grass and sunlight, which everyone had been deprived of throughout the long, cold winter.

“See? Come on! We can take Zwei for a walk.

At that moment, Zwei, who had been sound asleep on Blake’s bed, immediately jumped up and started spinning in a circle, barking excitedly.

Weiss giggled at the dog’s antics. “Well, I can never say no to Zwei. Do you want to go for a walk, sweetie?”

Zwei bounced up and down, his tail going a million miles an hour.

The three went outside and down the path across the courtyard, where several other students were taking much-needed breaks. Yang took a deep breath of the air, which was still tinged with coldness, but smelled like spring.

She glanced sharply at Weiss, noticing a contemplative look on her face. “Stop that!”

Weiss jumped. “Stop what?”

“You were reciting dates in your head. Or formulas. I can’t really tell which.”

Weiss huffed, folding her arms. “How could you possibly know what I’m thinking?”

“Easy. Your face gets all scrunched up like this.” Yang did an exaggerated imitation of Weiss’s slightly-stressed frown.

“I don’t look like that!” Weiss gasped indignantly. “…Do I?”

“Only sometimes,” Yang assured her with a grin. When Weiss’s expression didn’t change, Yang nudged her shoulder. “Chill out, Weiss. You’re gonna ace everything. If you don’t, I guarantee the rest of us will be flunking out because clearly the exams are impossible.”

“I appreciate the confidence, Yang,” Weiss said, stooping down to pick up a stick that Zwei had just brought over. She threw it toward a stretch of uninterrupted grass, allowing herself a smile as the corgi ran after it as fast as his short legs could manage. “The fact remains that I need to study in order to get those grades.”

Instinctively, she reached for her Scroll to check the time, only to feel a warm, calloused hand stopping her. She blushed, starting a little at the sudden contact.

“I saw you set an alarm. It’ll go off when it goes off.” Yang’s brows creased with concern. “Seriously, Weiss. You need to relax. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how little you’ve been sleeping, or how your eye starts twitching whenever you stress yourself out too much.”

“You…noticed that?” Weiss subconsciously put her free hand over her eye. Yang still hadn’t let go of her right hand, and she found herself lightly wrapping her fingers around her friend’s wrist.

“Of course, I did.” Yang rolled her eyes, even as she smiled a little and squeezed Weiss’s hand gently. “Don’t forget that I have a big sister sense. Also, you fainted in the shower during our last exam week. Did you think I forgot that?”

Weiss winced. “I certainly hoped that you would…” Zwei returned and she bent down to throw the stick again, feeling slightly disappointed when Yang let go of her hand. “I’m sorry to worry you.”

“Don’t apologize. Test anxiety is a thing.” Yang watched Zwei as he ran after the stick, stopped halfway, and started chasing a nearby squirrel.

“It’s more than that,” Weiss admitted. “I do hold myself to certain standards, but the main factor is…” She paused, suddenly worried that she was about to reveal too much.

“Yeah?” Yang gently urged, leading them to a vacant bench and sitting down.

“I…I don’t want to go back home.” Weiss let out a sigh as she sat down next to Yang. “If my grades aren’t high enough, I won’t be able to stay here.”

Yang frowned. She had always suspected the worst about Weiss’s home life, and her suspicions were regularly fed by things Weiss had let slip over the past few months. She didn’t want to pry, though, so she put on a casual face. “Please, Weiss. You’d have to fail pretty hard for Beacon to expel you.”

“Beacon isn’t the issue,” Weiss muttered. “If Father finds any excuse to bring me back, then…” She shook her head. “Sorry. It isn’t your concern.”

“Uh, yes. Yes, it is,” Yang said bluntly. “My friend, my teammate, my concern.” She noticed the way Weiss’s expression was starting to close up. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just saying that I’m here to help. If you ever need to stay somewhere, you know Ruby and I would be glad to have you. I’ve already told Blake the same thing.”

“Ruby did mention that to me,” Weiss admitted, smiling slightly. Even now, it still felt strange having people who cared so much about her and were ready to drop everything to help her. Winter had always been there for her, but there were limits to what she could do and how often she and Weiss could be together. At Beacon, however, she was surrounded by people who cared, who wouldn’t have to leave at a moment’s notice for several months. It was strange, but in the best way possible.

“And it’s not like your dad can force you to do anything,” Yang pointed out. “You’re almost eighteen. Legally, you can do what you want. Ozpin gives scholarships and special loans to people who don’t have their own way to pay tuition, and you’re definitely smart enough to qualify.”

“You need exceptional grades for scholarships,” Weiss noted. “And that requires studying.”

“Yeah, but… Ugh! You and your logic.” Yang slumped back against the bench.

Weiss couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Thank you, Yang.” Zwei had curled up in the grass at her feet, and she bent down to scratch behind his ears. “It really is a nice day,” she remarked.

“Yeah.” Yang’s heart thudded at the rare sound of Weiss’s laugh. “Too bad the weather waited till exams to actually lighten up a bit.”

The two were quiet for a moment before Yang spoke up again. “Say, Weiss? Speaking of lightening up, how about we hit up a dance club I know after exams are over?”

Weiss couldn’t help but notice that Yang hadn’t mentioned any of their other friends in that invitation. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Is this the club you got kicked out of for beating up the staff?”

“…You don’t know that.”

Weiss’s Scroll went off, and she turned off the alarm, though she didn’t stand right away. “I’ll tell you what: Find a club you don’t have bad blood with, and I’ll consider it.”

Yang’s mouth dropped open. “Aw, what?! Do you have any idea how hard that’ll be?!”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Weiss allowed herself a smirk as she stood and walked back toward the dorms. “Also, don’t think I haven’t noticed how little studying you’ve been doing. Come on. We should both go over Oobleck’s notes.”

“Uuuuuggggghhhh…” Yang groaned dramatically, slumping against the bench again and trying to play dead.

Weiss raised an eyebrow. “I can and will use my glyphs on you.”

“Fine,” Yang grumbled, folding her arms and pouting as she followed Weiss back to the room. Her annoyance faded when she noticed how Weiss was obviously trying not to laugh at her exaggerated behavior.

It faded even further about an hour later, when Weiss fell asleep in the middle of a chapter, her head coming to a rest on Yang’s shoulder, her face looking truly peaceful for the first time that day. Carefully, Yang closed both of their textbooks and took Weiss’s small hand in hers yet again.

~

Here’s Day 3 of @freezerburn-week! Test anxiety is a thing. Always have healthy studying practices.

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Peace out!