#{{she's never even heard of night vale outside of conversations with friends from there}}

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Part 1 (Javier Pena x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Pena as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: ANGST! Explicit drug and alcohol abuse from the beginning, depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

A/n: My first ever Javi fic, of course I had to make it the angstiest thing I’ve written in a long time!!  This is part one of the first part of the story which is also the end of the story... just had to make it confusing for you. 

Disclaimer: I do not have any experience with cocaine or addiction, all writing is based on my own research and is not a good representation of how it really is! Don’t do coke kids, it’s never good.

Part 2

---

Four in the morning, the sun was just above the horizon and you were stumbling home from yet another party. Enough tequila swam through your system that you didn’t really think about the wellbeing of your neighbor when you tapped on his door. You wanted to keep going. Javier, you decided, would make the perfect company. And maybe you could continue that kiss you had not stopped thinking about since it happened four months ago! You grinned devilishly at the thought and knocked harder on the door.

“Javi! Javier!” You rapped on the door. “Javier Peña, abra la puerta!” You sang, leaning all your weight on the door as your world span fast around you, “Javi,”

“What?” Javier opened the door suddenly, causing you to fall into him. You laughed as you caught yourself on his arm. You had woken him up, he was dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants with his hair bushy and wild. 

“Hola!” You grinned up at him, not hiding the way you checked him out. You were obviously drunk and high, eyes red and shining brightly even in the dim light of the apartment block hallway. Javi wrinkled his nose as the smell of you hitting him, tequila and cigar smoke clung to you.

“Again?” Javi sighed heavily. This was the third time this week you had woken him up, accidentally or on purpose, coming home drunk. He was starting to worry about you. 

“Si,” You grinned from ear to ear, You were in more of a state than last time. For one you were still speaking Spanish, something Javi had rarely ever heard you speak. You must have been with your local friends, he surmised. “No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido!”

“It’s not fun, you’re a mess. Get in here,” He pulled you by the arm into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“Eres enojado?” You asked, still grinning. You walked backwards into his apartment, tripping down the step and landing with a thud on his leather couch. You cackled with laughter.Javier frowned and put his hands on his hips, of course he was annoyed at you! It was four in the morning and you both had work the next morning. You dramatically flopped back on his couch and huffed at his grumpy attitude, “It’s only polite, Javi! They gave it to me!”

“It’s poison!! He exclaimed, “Why would you do that to yourself?” 

“It’s helping,” You proclaimed. 

“It’s not helping anyone, you’re gunna fuck up sooner or later.” Javi warned, as he had done many times before. 

“I got that list,” You protested, “That was helpful!”

“And what will you do when they work out that you stole it?” 

“No lo sé,” You shrugged. You reached into your pocket and grabbed the last of the coke you had been given. You wanted a little more. You pulled the tin out of your pocket and placed it on the coffee table at your feet.

“You-,” Javi started before he noticed what you were doing, instantly he was on you, “Para!” He exclaimed as he snatched the coke from your hand before you had time to open it. 

“Necesito!” You whined, pouting at him. You were lying, you didn’t need it. You wanted it, a lot. 

“No,” Javi snapped.

“Lo siento, Javi,” You pleaded with him, eyes locked onto the packet in his hand.

“You’re not though, are you? Fucking look at me!” He yelled. You startled and looked up at him as tears pricked your eyes. “Quit it. Now. You know what this shit does, stop it. Whatever you think you’re doing is not worth it, okay?”

“Pero-“

“No. Me vale!” He cut you off. “You’re better than this, Y/n,”

You sustained eye contact for a moment. The room was deathly quiet, he glared at you with fierce intensity. You had never seen him so angry, if you weren’t so drunk you would have instantly buckled under the pressure. The only thing your drunk brain could think of was how hot he looked, you wondered how rough he would be with you if he was this angry. You couldn’t help the snigger that crept up in your throat at that thought. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the laugh, Javi rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” You laughed, “It’s just you can’t look at me like that and not fuck me!” 

“Jesus christ,” Javier pinched the bridge of his nose. What little patience he had for you was running out fast. You continued to laugh. 

“Can I stay here?” You asked.

“Take the couch,” Javi waved you off, his back turned heading back to his bedroom. 

“I can’t sleep with you?” Your voice was laced with innuendo, he knew what you wanted. A part of him was tempted, your dress left very little to the imagination, but he knew he couldn’t do it.

“You’re drunk and high,” Javier said plainly, “and we’ve spoken about this before. No,” He was firm with you. He hated having to reject you for a second time but he wasn’t a complete monster. He wouldn’t sleep with you in this state. 

“Worth a try,” You laughed, thankfully giving up quickly. Javi shook his head and walked away again, “Muchos gracias, Javi,” You called after him. He shut the door. 

--

You woke up as the early morning sunlight pushed through the windows. You groaned and turned over, finding you were not in your bed but on a couch. Startled, you sat up and nearly screamed when you recognised the apartment as Javier’s. Luckily you were still fully dressed with your shoes still on, nothing had happened. Memories of how you got there were blurry, you remembered knocking on his door but had blacked out after that.

The clock on the wall said it was six am. You could go upstairs to your own bed clean up and hope that maybe Javi wouldn’t hear you and confront you about it. 

You stood up from the couch, trying not to think about all the things the man had done on it, and grabbed your jacket from the ground. As you stood up the strength of your hangover kicked in, you grumbled. That was when you noticed the discarded coke packet on the counter. You stopped. You knew you shouldn’t pick it up, you didn’t need it. But the taste caught at the back of your throat and you found yourself wanting it. It was undeniably addictive, you had promised yourself you wouldn’t take it this far but the foul substance had made its bed.

“Go home,” Javi’s voice broke you out of the trance. He was only wearing sweatpants, hair mussed up from sleep that you had most definitely disturbed more than once. He pulled the cocaine off the table and threw it into the trash before you could reach it. You gulped, shame rising like hot steam through your lungs. You grabbed your things and left, running straight upstairs to your own apartment.

It was still early but you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep again. Shame was swirling up in your throat. How ironic that a DEA agent was addicted to the thing she was meant to be stopping? But you weren’t addicted, you reasoned with yourself, you were fine. This was no different to when you lived off Redbull for a month during finals, it was a matter of changing some coping mechanisms. It was a reaction to the stress of being so close to Escobar yet so still so far. You could change it, you had control. 

You made a coffee, instant and black. It was bitter and disgusting but it would keep you awake. You collapsed onto your tired old couch and flicked on the tv to a telenovela rerun. You barely understood what was going on but the hilarious overplayed drama was light enough to stop you swimming into the depressing pool of thoughts currently threatening to drown you. 

Eight o’clock came and you were ready to go to work. You were used to this routine now, hungover and tired, you knew you weren’t at your best but until this morning nobody knew about your slow descent into chaos. You weren’t surprised to find Javi’s truck gone without you. All you could remember from last night as how mad he was, and his face this morning only proved it. You dreaded seeing him. 

Luckily, you were spared the hassle of public transport by Steve who trundled down the stairs after you and offered you a ride. The conversation was light and everything seemed normal for a moment. You got to work, Steve ran off after a call from Javier leaving you with a mountain of paperwork to hunt through. For once you didn’t care, paperwork didn’t judge you.

A few hours passed and the boys returned. You did your best to ignore them while they bickered, hoping that you could melt into the background, until someone tapped on your desk. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you Rookie,” Javi’s voice made you look up. “Come on, we’re going,” 

Before you could say anything he threw your jacket at you and you had no choice but to follow him outside. You tried to rack your brain for why Javi would be taking you anywhere today, especially after this morning. You had expected him to ground you, to be impossibly angry at you, not take you out. You climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and Javi didn’t say a word. He didn’t look particularly angry, he looked stressed but he had looked like that since the day you got down here. He was silent, letting the radio play between you, when all of a sudden he reached over and turned it off. 

You looked over at him, expecting him to start his lecture but he didn’t. He let the silence sit between you for the rest of the journey. Somehow it was worse, you’d rather he got mad at you and shouted. It was just unsettling.

Finally you pulled into the embassy, you flashed your badges at the gate and parked. Fear was starting to grow now. Was he going to get you fired? He wouldn’t bring you down here for that surely? He would have called and said what he wanted, he hated coming down here unless he had to. You stayed quiet, too scared to ask, and followed him inside. 

Javi greeted the assistant at the door, as smooth as ever somehow managing to melt her in her chair in five seconds. You smiled and waved to her, she scowled at you as soon as Javi had turned his back. 

“He’ll be in a minute,” The girl called after you as you entered the Ambassador’s office. You took one chair, Javier took the other, in front of the large mahogany desk.

Unlike Steve and Javi you didn’t see the ambassador often, often left in the office while they had meetings about things higher than your post. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest you thought it might burst. You rubbed your hands on your jeans and fidgeted in your seat. Why in hell were you here? 

Before you could bring up the courage to finally ask Javi the Ambassador walking into the room. You stood up immediately to shake his hand, Javi stayed seated.

“Y/n, nice to see you again,” The ambassador smiled kindly as he shook your hand. “Agent Peña,” He greeted the agent next to you, who nodded casually.

“You too, Sir,” You tried your best to sound confident. The Ambassador sighed heavily as he sat in the leather chair, took a sip of the water at his side and began the meeting.

“So, I got the call from your coordinators this morning, they’re coming down on Monday for the review. I thought we should have this meeting together to discuss things before they come down,” 

Your six month review! That was what you had forgotten. Half relieved that your mentor hadn’t brought you down here to completely humiliate you, you smiled and nodded. With everything going on you hadn’t noticed the months fly past so fast, you barely remembered what day it was anymore. 

The Ambassador carried on with the meeting, unaware of your panicking. You nodded along, answering his questions in short yes or no answers, he then moved to Javier. As your mentor he was the one in charge of delivering your progress onto your coordinators. You watched him speak, sound not registering anymore. You hoped to god that he wouldn’t throw you under the bus and tell the entire truth, he knew how much this meant to you surely he wouldn’t. 

Nervous, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. You almost had a heart attack when you felt something inside. A small metal tin, rounded and rusted. You immediately knew what it was and froze. There was coke in your pocket. Javi gave you a sideways glance, as he noticed you stiffen up suddenly. 

You wracked your mind for where the hell the tin had come from, until you remembered. This wasn’t your jacket, Maria had given it to you a few months ago and never asked for it back. You hadn’t worn it before today and had no idea that your friend’s stash lay inside the pockets. You tried to stay rational, tried to listen to the important conversation happening around you but your hand stayed clamped around the drug in your pocket. It would help you concentrate, it could calm you down. You could take it and nobody would notice. 

“I- I’m sorry can you excuse me for a moment?” You blurted out, interrupting the ambassador.  He frowned at you, surprised by your interruption. You had gone white with panic, obviously clutching at something in your pocket but he didn’t think anything of it. He nodded and you ran out the room before he could verbally release you. 

You tried to remain calm as you ran through the halls of the embassy, it seemed like everyone was watching you. They knew exactly what you were doing, they were judging you. You ran into the first women’s bathroom you could find, quickly checked nobody was in any stalls, and locked the door behind you.

Throwing the package on the sink like it was burning through your hand, you stood over it, watching it intensely like it could jump away at any moment. The voice in your head kept tempting you, calling you weak and useless, to do it to get rid of it. Nobody would know if you took it. You’ve given in this far why not do it. It will help you calm down. Take it. 

As if you were possessed, you unwillingly opened the tin and poured the powder onto the surface. There wasn’t much there, barely a pinch full, hardly anything at all. You couldn’t just leave it there now, someone would definitely know it was yours. They all knew why even bother hiding it anyway. You should take it. You were too weak to resist it. Take it.

And you did. The chemical shot straight to your brain giving you the brilliant feeling you had been missing. You sighed in a relief as you felt every anxiety fade from your body. It wasn’t that bad, you feel better with it, the voice in your head said. You weren’t wrong. You did feel better. You looked it too, your cheeks had colour again, you smiled and laughed to yourself as it took hold.

You brushed away the excess powder and unlocked the door. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Javi leaning against the opposite wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, judging you with a cocked eyebrow. He had been waiting for you. You sighed and rolled your eyes immediately walking away from him.

“Don’t stand outside the women's bathroom’s Javi. It's creepy,” You snapped as you passed him. 

“You missed a bit,” Javi commented, following closely behind you. 

“Fuck off,” You grumbled. Despite yourself you wiped your sleeve over your nose. He was right. 

“Shooting up in a bathroom is real low, Rookie, even for you,” He snarled. You continued walking down the hall, ignoring him. You were as angry at your actions as he was but you didn’t have control anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you,” Javi grabbed your arm and sharply pulled you backwards, pressing your back into the wall and trapping your body between his.

“You’re hurting me!” You complained, shoving him off you with as much force as you could give. It didn’t get you far as he pushed you to the wall again with as much force. Your back slammed against the cold stone hard, no doubt bruising it. 

“Then listen. What the fuck is the matter with you?” He snarled, “Doing that shit here? Or anywhere in fact! You are completely out of control,” You ground your teeth, seething with anger, “Do you have no respect for yourself?” You struggled against him, trying to get away again to avoid the question, Javi held you in place. “Not going to say anything?” You looked away, purposely turning your cheek to him, “Get a fucking grip or I’m sending you home,” He growled. 

You didn’t answer, staring at the patterned tile floor. Finally he gave up. With a grunt he let you go and stalked away down the corridor. 

As he disappeared around the corner, a tidal wave of anger and frustration flooded your system. You kicked the line of chairs next to you, crying out curses as you sent them flying across the corridor. The metal clattered against the stone drawing people out of their offices, they all stood from their doorways and watched you, judging you. You heart hammered in your chest, chest heaving for air and you glared back at them all. You let out a deep breath and turned on your heel, leaving the mess behind you, and walked outside.

Despite himself, Javi had waited for you in the parking lot. You jumped into the passenger seat without a word, slamming the door hard to get your point across. You couldn’t tell if you were sweating from anger or the drugs coursing through you. Neither of you said a word for the journey. Javi had said he needed to, and you weren’t able to string together a coherent sentence for everything you wanted to scream at him yet. 

You were too focussed on the music playing from the stereo to really notice where you were going. The rhythms and lyrics seemed to float around you and soak into your skin. You didn’t see Javi’s furious scowl when you unknowingly started to dance in your seat, something you couldn’t help but do when listening to Columbian radio no matter your mental state. You were having a good time until the car stopped and the music was cut abruptly. Snapping out of your trance you looked around and realised you were at your apartment. 

“Get out. You’re done for today,” Javi said, his voice was eerily calm and you knew to be terrified. Quiet Javi was always the angriest.

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“Get out!” He leant over you and pushed the door open. You frowned, but slipped out the truck and did as you were told. Javi pulled the door shut behind you and rolled away, leaving you standing on the sidewalk opposite the apartment building completely dumbfounded. 

You were stuck to the sidewalk, staring at the building. The sun beat down on you, scorching your skin yet you couldn’t feel it. You were numb to everything.

Your first thought was to find Maria and get more coke to hide further into yourself and avoid the awful shame creeping up your neck. The speed the thought entered your head petrified you. Your control was slipping through your fingers like sand and your body was screaming to move. Everything inside you told you to give up, that this was the tipping point and you might as well jump because what was the point in pretending anymore. If Javi knew what was the point in trying to cover up how much that narcotic had taken over your life. There was no point at all, you might as well enjoy the feeling whilst you could. 

You turned to leave, letting go of all self control. Your legs knew where to take you, you didn’t even need to look where you were going. But you did, when three steps from your original position you crashed into a woman carrying a bag of groceries. She yelped, the sudden sound snapping you back to reality. 

“What are you doing standing out here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Connie startled you when she touched you, you had barely noticed her approaching. She frowned, concerned, when she took in your glazed appearance, “Sweetheart?”

“I’m okay,” Your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes. 

“Oh darling, come inside. Come on,” Connie walked across the road, expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, you wanted to run in the opposite direction. You knew if you went inside you would have to tell her what was happening, you didn’t want to make her as mad as Javi was already. “Y/n? Sweetheart you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?” 

“I fucked it all up,” You whimpered as you began to cry.

“Come with me, I’ll get you some water,” Connie bartered, still you didn’t move. Too scared to admit to her what was going on, “Just come inside, please,” 

Finally, you nodded and followed Connie into the building. She walked you into the apartment, sat you on the couch and left to get a glass of water. You hadn’t stopped crying, everything in you was telling you to go and get more to calm yourself down again. You knew not to believe the thoughts but they scared you tremendously. You have really gone too far now. 

Connie passed you the water, and you drank it gladly. She crouched down in front of you, pressed a hand to your forehead and checked your pulse trying to work out what was wrong with you. 

“Did you take something?” She asked. You tried to shake your head and deny it but the way she’s looking at you, sternly but with so much care in her eyes, you couldn’t lie to her. Your no turns into a yes and you instantly recoil from her each touch, hiding in your hands. “What was it?” 

“It was only meant to help,” You cried into your hands.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened,” She pressed. 

“Maria gave me some coke, and it was fine and fun and it helped me get that list from them,” You started to babble, all your words tumbling from your mouth before you could get them into any sensible order, “and everyone was so excited and then I went out kept doing it and then yesterday I ended up at Javi’s and I was tired and-,” 

“Slow down,” 

“It’s my six month review,  and I got so worried then I found it in my pocket! I didn’t know it was there and I just did it! Then Javi caught me again and he kicked me out here!” 

“Do you know how much you took?” 

“Like a tiny bit but I’ll be fine in an hour but-,” Tears slipped from your eyes once again, “What am I going to do?”

Connie didn’t know what to say. She knew you had been going out more with some new friends, Steve had complained because he was always woken up by you when you came back drunk from a party. That's all she thought was going on, you were partying, drinking, like you should at your age. But as she had come to learn, a lot of things in Columbia were not what they seemed. It seemed the darker side of life here had managed to get it’s claws well and truly into you. It broke her heart to see you like this, so broken up. 

You stayed with Connie for the rest of the afternoon, sat on the couch riding out the end of you high. TV kept you company and Connie chewed her nails trying to work out what to do. She thought should call Steve, but if Javier was the one to drop you off here, he probably already knew. She wondered how long it had been going on for, she didn’t get to see you as much as her husband and his partner, whenever she’d seen you you seemed fine, if a little hungover at times. When she thought about, all three of you had taken on destructive habits to cope with the hell you saw every day. Steve was becoming more aggressive by the week, while she knew she was safe she didn’t like what she saw when he flipped out. Everyone in the building knew about Javier’s escapades and now you. It was upsetting to watch from the outside, she couldn’t imagine what it was really like to go through. 

You woke up half an hour later, muddled and more tired than when you’d fallen asleep. 

“Feeling better?” Connie asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Feel like shit,” You muttered. Your head pounded and the heaviness still sat in your chest. That was the kicker, the coke could mask feelings very well but every time you sobered up they were still there waiting. You sighed heavily, pushing yourself to sit up where you’d slumped over, and rubbed your face with your sweaty palms. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know sweetie, but I’ll be here to help you,” Connie said kindly, as she sat on the couch next to you. You felt awful for dragging her into all this, yet another person you had let down, ”I think you should tell your boss? Or you’re coordinators, maybe they’ll help,” 

“I’ll be sent home!” You protested, tears filling your eyes once again, “I don’t want to go home, not now!” 

“You can’t keep it to yourself, it will only get worse,” She said, you nodded sadly and cried on her shoulder as she pulled you in for a hug. “I suggest a hot bath, watch some cheesy movie- I managed to find that Indiana Jones movie on tape. I know you love Harrison Ford,” 

“That sounds nice,” You smiled weakly. Connie let you go and grabbed the movie along with a bottle of wine for you. You gathered yourself together, enough to get yourself from Connie’s couch to your own at least. 

“I’m sure Steve won’t notice it’s gone. Go and chill out and watch the movie, have a bit of normality for a change. You’ll feel better I promise,” 

“Thank you Connie, you’re a really good friend,” 

“It’s no problem sweetie, like I said I’m always here for you,” 

Connie gave you another tight squeeze before you left. Iin the hallway you heard the clatter of Javi’s keys in his door below. You wanted to apologise to him, you wanted him to help you! You wanted things to go back to how they were before all this but you knew Javi wouldn’t talk to you. He’d displayed his distaste for the people that fell under the powder’s spell before, he wasn’t going to help. He had trusted you to sort it out yourself but now it was abundantly clear you couldn’t. 

Once again your brain reminded you how easy it would be to get some more coke to cheer yourself up. You could go downstairs and walk down the street, find one of your friends and be happy again so quickly. You didn’t have to feel this pain. 

This time, you ignored it and locked yourself in your apartment. You took yourself to bed immediately, not even bothering to turn on any lights along the journey through the tiny space. You fell on the bed face first. As soon as your body hit the soft material you curled up as tight as you could and began to cry. 

You had failed. You had let your team down, let your coordinators down, let your classmates down and let your family down. You didn’t even want to think about the conversation you would have to have with your mom as to why you were coming home six months early from a placement you fought so hard to get. You thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You failed.

--

Part 2

Translations (disclaimer I'm sorry if these are wrong I've been learning Spanish for all of 3 months hence the limited use)

Abra la puerta - open the door

No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido! - I’m not sorry Javi, it’s fun!

Eres enojado - are you angry?

No lo sé - I don’t know

Para!- stop!

Lo siento- I’m sorry

Pero- but

Me vale - I don’t care

The next part will be out next Friday! Want to get tagged? Let me know! 

Tag list: @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @browneyes-djarin @themidnightsun-12​

gunna be cheeky and tag some mutuals i think may be interested? @ithinkwehitametaphor​ @wille-zarr​ 

#javier pena x reader #javi x reader #javier pena #steve murphy x reader #narcos x reader #javi angst #javier pena angst #javi #x reader angst #narcos fanfic #narcos angst #pedro pascal x reader #angst #fluff #javi x reader smut #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #steve murphy #connie murphy #molly writes #narcos fic #netflix narcos fic #tw: addiction #tw: depression #tw: intrusive thoughts #tw: intoxication #tw: drugs

[ratcourtjester]

(So originally I was gonna do all three with both pairings since but that's not what ended happening so I will have the superbat part up later tonight or tomorrow hope you enjoy @peppersonironi !)

Okay, so this isn't how Kon imagined their first kiss happening. Not that he imagined it often! Just…once or twice. Like those rare times Tim gave him that manic grin that meant he was about to do something uncharacteristically risky and trusted him to have his back. Or when he was thinking intently on something. Or when his face scrunched up when something didn't quite add up. Or-

Okay, so maybe he thought about kissing Tim a lot more than he liked to admit. But he genuinely never thought it would be in the middle of a Wayne function. They were late coming back from Titans Tower (Tim would later tell Bruce it was because of a minor emergency but really it was because of a really intense round of Smash between him and Cassie) and Kon had given him a lift back to the manor. Tim was already dressed for the function (Kon still felt a little swell of satisfaction in his chest knowing he had been entrusted with his best friend's secret identity before the rest of the team) and Kon brought him in through the window of the study one of Tim's brothers had unlatched for them.

"Thanks." Tim said as he was set down, smoothing his suit out before looking back up at Kon, who was still floating in front of him wearing a goofy grin.

"Hey don't mention it, man. Next time I'll have my meter running though." Superboy joked, getting a somewhat amused eye roll from the former Boy Wonder. He opened his mouth to retort before frowning hearing the door handle turn. He glanced at it quickly before turning back to Kon, who shook his head. Not a Bat, he knew all their heartbeats. No one was supposed to be upstairs during these things and before Kon could dash out the window the door was creaking open. Tim's hands shot to his jacket, forcing Kon to follow as he pulled him closer, pressing their lips together. He took advantage of Kon's shocked gasp to slip his tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth.

Unsure what else to do, Kon slipped his hand to the base of Tim's skull, deepening the kiss even further and resigning himself to just going with it and enjoying the moment. In the background he heard the click of a camera and an almost sing-song, "Oops, wrong room!"

Tim broke the kiss and tugged him so he pressed even closer, glaring at the door over Kon's shoulder as he landed to accommodate the silent demand. "Do you mind, Miss Vale?" He asked, shifting as if he was trying to hid Kon's face from her (as if the giant S-sheild on his back didn't give away who he was).

"Not at all, I got what I wanted." Vicki hummed holding up her camera with a grin. "Have fun boys." She sang, closing the door.

"...She went back downstairs." Kon murmured after a minute. The other boy let out a sigh of relief and let go of him, stepping back to give them both some much needed space. Tim ran a hand through his mussed up hair, staring at the door.

"I should go downstairs and warn Bruce we're going to have to do some damage control." He sighed again, this time in resignation. "Better a PR disaster than an investigation and possible identity reveal…" he muttered mostly to himself.

"Yeah but won't that put 'Tim Drake-Wayne' at risk? Like, won't you be more of a target than you were before?" Kon asked, floating again and honestly only <i>kinda</i> putting together what just happened. Tim quirked his lips up in a grin that told Kon he had asked a stupid question and it amused him.

"Its not like it would be the first time that one of us got 'caught' with a hero." He reminded the clone, shrugging and moving to the door. "We have it covered. "Night Kon."

"Yeah…Night…"

----------------------------------

Kon tried to get the kiss out of his head, he really did! But fuck, he hadn't realized how much he had really wanted it…

The picture in the paper had been a Disaster(tm) and not just because Cassie and Bart kept teasing him about bagging a rich kid. Ma kept giving this knowing look that he was trying his damnedest not to look too much into and everytime Clark was over it became even more painfully obvious that this was going to eventually turn into one of those 'parental conversations' that neither of them wanted to have.

Tim, for his part, was acting perfectly normal (as normal as Tim acted anyways), which was driving Kon insane. He had brought it up once to let Kon know that Batman was handling it. Which terrorfied him more than he liked to admit. Other than that they haven't really talked about it. And that was…fine. Really.

Okay it wasn't and it took Kon another week before he found himself knocking on his best friend's door at the tower. There was a muffled 'come in' that he might of missed without his super-hearing. Tim was sitting cross legged on his bed in pajamas and one of his old domino masks going through something on his laptop, which made Kon grin a little. It looked so absurd it was almost cute.

"Hey Rob, got a minute?" He asked, definitely not getting a fuzzy feeling in his chest when Tim took off the mask once the door closed realizing it was just Kon.

"Sure, what's up?" He asked, moving so the other could sit on the bed next to him, which he did.

"About the…the uh, kiss…" Kon started and Tim frowned.

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, I-"

"No!" Kon said quickly, holding up his hands to stop him before rubbing the back of his neck. "You didn't, really. I was just thinking that maybe…we should do it more often. Outside of it being a quick cover. Ya'know, if you-"

He was cut off by a snort and his heart dropped to his stomach. He was about to tell him to just forget it and hide in his room with his dog when Tim was suddenly in his space. He smelt like coffee.

"That," he chuckled. "Was the lamest way anyone has asked me out before."

"That's not a no." Kon pointed out with a small grin.

Tim rolled his eyes and Kon kissed the exasperated look off his face.

No camera to interrupt this time.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #first kiss #superboy #red robin #prompt #peppersonironi

[heliosthegriffin]

The Burdens of Lordship

Jaune decided he needed to go get out for a night, and by himself.

It had been a long couple of months at Beacon, hard, difficult, and nowhere near-easy for a fake like himself.

But, he had made it so far with Pyrrha and his teams help.

He be dead without them, hells, he’d be dead without Ruby too.

But, with all these new teams coming in today... It felt so damn suffocating, even more than usual. Like they could see through him, see that he didn’t belong here.

So, it brought him here, getting dressed for a knight on the town, heh, he’d made a Yang.

A nice pair of cream slacks, a royal blue dress shirt, a black vest on top of it lined with faux-gold buttons, a pair of nice brown loafers, and fine leather belt to bring the suit together. Contrarily to Yang and Weiss’s opinion, he did know how to dress himself, being raised by his parents plus seven overbearing sisters taught him enough, it’s just, since he came to Beacon he’s actually had the freedom to wear what he wanted.

Tonight though? He want to look better than he felt. So, he brushed his a hair enough to look presentable, and went out into the dorm.

“Well, how did I dooooo-” Jaune didn’t get to finish as Nora barreled pasted into the bathroom, knocking him to the side.

Pyrrha stifled a laugh and Ren gave the barest hint of a apolegtic smile.

Jaune steadied himself, giving a laugh at his own expense. He couldn’t blame Nora for having to go to the bathroom, could he?

“Well, how do I look?” Jaune asked his partner and his friend.

Pyrrha gave him a friendly smile and nodded approvingly. “Quite lovely, Jaune. You look dashing.”

“Ah, thanks Pyr.” Jaune said with a slight blush, it always felt nice to be complimented.

Ren looked on more skeptically, with a hand on his chin. “Turn around.”

Jaune did as asked.

“Ok, do some stretches.”

Jaune complied with his team-mates wishes, surely he would notice if he missed something. 

“Alright, you look passable. Here,” Ren approached Jaune squirted a few drops of cologne, and helped straighten out his outfit. “And now you look, as Pyrrha put it, quite dashing.” Ren said with a light smile.

“Thanks, Ren.” Jaune said another light blush on his cheeks. “Well, I guess I should be going then.”

“Wait,” Ren said putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re forgetting something.” He looked over to Pyrrha and she handed the boys Crocea Mors.

Jaune looked on incredulous. “Why would I need Crocea Mors?”

Ren shook his head. “You’re a huntsman, you must look the part at all times. Plus...”

Jaune frowned, knowing where he was leading. “It’ll make me less likely to be mugged or something.” 

Jaune knew he was a still noodly, and looked kinda weak. But he was working really hard on that!

Jaune still took his blade without complaint, admittedly he has gotten so used to wearing it, he started feeling off when not wearing it.

Pyrrha rubbed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like that Jaune, it’s not we’re concerned about you getting hurt, far from it, the odds of someone attacking you and them being huntsman trained are one in some hundred. We’re actually more concerned that someone might mug you and...”

Ren chimed in, “Well, you’re not Nora strong, but you’re being trained and have Aura, and that’s more than enough to hospitalize someone without one or both.”

Jaune grimaced at the idea. While he didn’t fancy himself strong or powerful, it as kinda hard to deny he hadn’t been making progress, last week he had managed to take off the head of one of the old drones that General Ironwood had donated to the academy. A regular human probably require much, much less effort.

So he nodded. “I see your point. Better to deter them, before they make a attempt.”

“Also, Ruby would be peeved if you didn’t start taking this.” Then Pyrrha pushed a black hand-canon into his hand. She then looked him in the eyes. “I’d also be rather put out, considering I paid for it.” A sly grin in her eyes.

Jaune sighed and equipped the gun to his waist opposite of Crocea Mors. Ever since he had started training with Pyrrha seriously, she had quite insistent about covering his ranged issues. So his devious partner, had behind his back teamed up with his best friend and local gun-nut, Ruby Rose, to make him a custom-hand canon.

Her evils truly knew no bounds. They had even come up with a name for it the devils! Noctis Mors.

Ruby had been a cruel task-master in teaching him the in’s and outs of shooting Noctis Mors, she had made him assemble and reassemble her until his hands bled gun oil. Suffice to say, while Noctis Mors felt a little strange on his hip, he was getting used to it.

“Thank you, Pyrrha.” He said, and pulled her into a hug, which she reciprocated.

“Better to have it and not need it, then to needed and not have it.”

Jaune smiled and shook his head, his friends were too good to him.

“Tell Nora, I said bye.”

Ren nodded his head. “You should leave before she loads you up with some grenades.”

Jaune shivered at the thought, he might be coming around to using Noctis Mors, but he doubted he’d ever get used to high-caliber explosives, He’d leave that to his crazy ginger bomber.

“Well, bye guys, I’ll see you later tonight.” Jaune said to his friend and Partner.

“Bye, Jaune.”

“Try not to eat to unhealthily!”

“I make no such promises!” Jaune said with a laugh, slipping out of the dorm.

Jaune made his way down the hallways of the dorm toward to the stairs that led outside. Where he encounters a quartet of familiar faces.

Jaune gave a friendly wave to Team RWBY as he walked towards them.

“Jaune!” Ruby said speeding over. “What are you up too? You’re not trying to ask Weiss out again are you?”

Jaune gave a eye-roll. “No, just heading out for the night. Just thought, I be a good friend and say hi.” Jaune said with stress on the word friend.

Ruby gave a laugh. “Sure, you are.”

The rest of her team caught up. Weiss in particular looked at him with suspicion,

“So, VB, whats the occasion for looking so sharp, you got a hot date tonight?” Yang asked giving him a approving nod.

“Hah, no, not tonight. I, uh, just gotta to get out for a night. You know? I just feel so trapped lately, and I want to not really think about things for a night.”

Ruby gave him a sympathetic nod.

While surprisingly Blake, the one he probably never interacted with, looked at him with a surprising level of empathy. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I hope you find what you’re looking for tonight.”

“Yeah me, too.”

Weiss then choose to cut in. “So, you don’t know what you’re looking for then?” Giving him a sharp look.

Jaune almost buckled under her gave, but straighten his back. “Uh, no, but, It’s not like I’m just idling around in Vale all nigh, I’ve got a couple places to hit up, but it’s not like I’m keeping to strict schedule, I either get to them or I don’t, I’m just trying to de-stress is all.”

Weiss huffed in disapproval, but said nothing in return. The Ice Queens love of schedules and appointments was approaching that of legend.

Yang then slung an arm around his shoulders, though she had to lean up to so. “Well, VB, that sounds fun and all, but Team RWBY as places to be and butts to kick, so go have your fun.” 

Jaune untangled himself. “That’s the plan, you guys go stop crime or whatever trouble you’ll get up to.”

“We don’t always do that!”

Jaune raised a suspicious brow at that.

“We don’t!”

“Sure.” Then Jaune turned and walked away, feeling as though he had won that conversation.

As he was leaving, he heard Weiss call out. “Arc.” Jaune turned to looked at her. “Try to not make a fool out of yourself, tonight.” The barest hint of what may one day be a smile on her face.

“That’s not on the list, but I’ll add it in anyway.” He said turning around, not bothering to try to find sort of conversation with her. He knew where they stood relationship wise, and if it could improve over time, that sounds good, if not, well all he could hope is keeping thing civil.

-------

Jaune made sure to pop something for his motion-sickness before he bordered the bullhead, so the flight down wasn’t as terrible as it could be, it was still awful, but at least he wasn’t spewing his guts everywhere.

His stomach feeling wobbly made he strike eating off the list for now, so he choose his first destination, and walked through one of Vales, many, many parks. Admiring the well-tended plant-life and occasionally waving at anybody who waved at him.

After his stomach settled, he decided to walk towards the closest bookstore, and just browsed till he founded something interesting. He had less-time with keeping up with comic and whatever came out of Mistral, since coming to Beacon. Still he left the store with couple interesting comics and even a couple books on stuff relating to huntsman actives.

Finally his stomach had decided to let him know, he could refill it. He ended up at a nice steak house, and somehow managed to get to a table in under a hour.

Jaune set at a table looking over a menu, he had already decided on what steak he want, now it was just onto sides.

A waitress then made herself known. “Hello, hello, what can I get you today?”

Jaune recited his order. 

“Right, well have it out as soon as possible. Also, from the rest of us here, we’d like to think you for your service.”

Jaune’s face crunched in confusion.

“Huntsmen are a invaluable part of our society, and as such, we’d like you to know that your meal is on the house tonight, if you require anything else, please just call.”

Then his waitress left, somehow managing to make Jaune feel appreciated and also like a complete piece of shit.

----

The meal was delicious, and Jaune had made sure to leave a nice tip anyway before leaving.

Did his dad get free meals like that? Did all huntsmen just get their bill wavered?

Jaune paused for a moment and sat on a bench, thinking.

He stares out into the evening light and all the people out there, living there lives, good or bad, they were still people weren’t they? They were probably didn’t even think about how to they need to get stronger, or how to kill the next grimm they face, were they?

They shouldn’t have to either? Should they, since that was his job kinda. Jaune thought for a second, he might not be a real huntsman, or even a real huntsman in training, but whats to stop him from faking it till he made it for real? What does it matter if the arms that carrys the sword has trained for two years or two months, if it can cut, it can serve.

If people were going to honor him as a huntsman, he was going to honor them by acting like one.

There wasn’t a smile on his face, but there wasn’t a frown either.

He didn’t have time to idle anymore, he needed to get back and work off this meal.

‘KAAAA-BOOOOM!!!’ A sound like none Jaune had heard before tore the air into pieces, it was so loud that it put any sound he heard before into a whimper. It was like the crack of thunder on a scale inconceivable, like lightning striking turned up to twelve.

His hearing was protected by Aura, and it was still ringing.

He turned his head towards the source of the sound, towards Beacon, and towards Patch, towards were he say the source of several more sources of the sound, and a terrible, but wondrous site.

Of what looked like one of those things Weiss summoned before, but bigger, on a scale that could cover entire city blocks! 

A pillar of sheer white light stuck Beacon, and in a moment of realization, what must be Signal on Patch.

A light so bright and terrible, Jaune felt it burn against his aura, and could see the fires start around the Emerald Forest. He carefully took his hand off his ear, the sound pound like a hammer into his head, and he could see the bones through his skin. He slapped his hand back across his head.

The pillars kept of their thunderous booming for several minutes, as Jaune covered his ears, watching in utter horror.

It felt almost like a the air was slapping against his bones, and sound was hitting against his bones, rattling and shaking them.

The ground as shaking too he realized.

Silence and darkness.

The pillars suddenly disappeared, and a vacuum of sound was left over.

The city was now dark and silent, as day left night along, as the lights in the city did not turn on, as the only light was that of the fires, there was no sound at first... Then the screams started.

AN: I can’t believe everyone, but, Jaune just got fucking Isekai’d.

#Jaune Arc #The Burdens of Lordship AU

[ghost-party]

Next

Pairing: Nanami Kento x OC Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: death of a parent A/N: I’m currently reading the manga, but I’m not caught up yet. My brain just went “Nanami + books + meet-cute wholesomeness,” and here we are. I’m still trying to figure out how long this will end up being. And this is the first fanfic I’ve written in... well, a long time.

Nanami Kento has a bad habit.

He purchases books with every intention of reading them. The genre or subject doesn’t matter, as long as they leave him with a lingering curiosity after the first few pages. 

But he never seems to have the time to sit down and read them. No, that’s not right. He doesn’t make the time. Work keeps him busy. It also keeps him absurdly tired. He’s heard Gojo make the joke that sorcerers never sleep. He hates how true that feels. 

By the time he arrives home each night and goes through the motions of his usual routine — bath, dinner, chores, reports — he usually lacks the energy to focus on the words on the page. More than once, he’s woken in the early hours of the morning, bedside lamp still glowing, a barely-read book sprawled across his chest.

These days, he tries to exercise more self-control, reminding himself with the same discipline he brings to field work that his personal library is already at capacity.

But one day — a Friday, thankfully, and one that didn’t involve any overtime — he finds his resolve weakening at the sight of a small, nondescript bookshop tucked in between a florist and a corner café. 

It’s not very surprising that he’s never come across it before. He doesn’t usually take this route home. But having spent most of his day indoors, he had decided to make the most of the brisk autumn weather and prolong his walk.

He stands there, staring up at the sign — Twice-Told Tales — for what feels like an inordinate amount of time. With a frustrated huff, he gives in and steps inside.

A small bell jingles above him, and he’s enveloped in the familiar scent of old books, that subtle hint of vanilla. It always reminds him of his father’s study, with its built-in shelves and massive desk constantly cluttered with the detritus of his work. The same way that petrichor reminds him of walking home from school with his high school girlfriend, kissing her on the doorstep of her parents’ convenience store. (He’s not sure why that memory comes to mind now.)

Although he has a compulsive need for order in his personal life, a firm believer that everything in his apartment and on his person has a proper place, bookstores are, for whatever reason, exempt. Something about overflowing shelves, books stacked in precarious towers, organized by color or preference or size… It feels right.

And this particular shop seems to have found the sweet spot between order and chaos — just orderly enough to not overwhelm, but still brimming with the promise of surprises. Nanami loves few things more than discovering a book he hadn’t expected to find, or unearthing something he would never have thought to look for.

He’s thumbing through a well-worn travel guide — Budapest, one of the too many places he’s never been — when he hears footsteps approaching. He lifts his head and is struck by a strange, heady vertigo, like the floor has shifted beneath his feet.

From between the stacks toward the back of the store walks a woman. Mid-twenties, if he had to guess, wearing a dark green sweater and black pants. Her brown hair had been hastily pulled back and secured in a loose knot, wisps of it haloing her face. He takes in her small details — relaxed posture, lips quirked into a gentle half-smile, sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing ink-smudged hands and a glimpse of a tattoo on her left wrist. (He was nothing if not exceedingly perceptive.)

When she looks up and meets his gaze, her smile widens. And before he can say hello, she says the last thing he would have expected: “I like your tie.”

Whenever someone told him that, it was nearly always a joke. After all, his usual tie — burnt yellow with bold flecks of black — was what many would call (and what Gojo did call, with an excess of enthusiasm) garish.

But this time, it’s sincere. And it briefly leaves him tongue-tied.

Finally, he manages a “thank you,” and he’s grateful that he doesn’t sound as confused as he feels. For whatever reason, he is finding it hard to look away. Luckily, she seems unbothered by the prolonged eye contact, still smiling.

“Your Japanese is very good.”

At that, she laughs. “That’s kind of you to say. I’ve lived here for a year, and I think I’ve improved. But I’m definitely still learning.”

He wants to ask where she’s from. He doesn’t know why. He wasn’t in the habit of asking personal questions of complete strangers. Instead, he says, “The shop name. It’s a reference to Hawthorne, isn’t it?”

She nods. “He was one of my father’s favorite authors. He had the name picked out before he’d even bought the building.” 

Nanami, to his surprise, feels the same way he does when he stumbles upon an intriguing book — he wants to know the rest of the story. Had her father retired? Or died? Is that why she had moved here? Uprooted her entire life to live abroad?

Why do you care so much? he asks himself. But he doesn’t have an answer.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

He shakes his head. “Just browsing.”

“Well, if you need anything, let me know. I’ll be around.” 

In an effort to distract himself, he moves from shelf to shelf, perusing poetry, memoirs, thrillers, classics… He is pleased to find a small sitting area at the back of the store, two overstuffed armchairs beneath a window that overlooks a vegetable garden. Having picked up a new-to-him translation of Homer’s Odyssey, he decides to sit and read — at least for a little while. After all, it’s Friday. His usual routine could handle a wrinkle or two.

What he didn’t expect was to lose himself for two hours, until a kind, quiet voice breaks his concentration.

He looks up to find the shopkeeper seated in the chair beside him, holding two cups of what smells like mint tea. Her smile is halfway to a wince as she says, “Sorry... I hope I didn’t startle you. I made some tea and thought you might like some. Or there’s coffee, if you’d prefer that.”

“No, tea is fine. Thank you.” He accepts the cup and glances outside, noticing that the sun is already beginning to set. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’re probably closing soon.”

“Half an hour ago, actually. But I didn’t want to interrupt — I really don’t mind.” She nods toward the book resting on his knee. “Have you read it before?”

“Years ago. I’d forgotten how much I liked it.”

“I love that feeling. Like running into an old friend.”

They sit in companionable silence, drinking their tea, and Nanami feels calmer than he has all week. As if the instinctive tension he kept wound inside his body had loosened without him even noticing. It feels strange, in a pleasant way.

Perhaps that’s the reason why he finally asks, “You said this shop belonged to your father?” Using context clues, he opts for the past tense.

She nods. “For twelve years. But then he found out he had cancer, and it was too much work for him. I was in between jobs, had just gotten out of a long relationship…” Here, she pauses, and he notices something flicker in her gaze. But it’s gone too quickly. “And the lease was up on my apartment. So it felt like a sign, I guess. It took a lot of work, but I moved here. And when he died, I inherited this.” She gestures around at the shop. “And the apartment upstairs.”

“Why did you stay?” He’s startled by his own question, and when he notices her eyes widen, he continues, “I imagine it’s been lonely, with him gone, living in another country. You could have sold everything and moved back home.”

“That’s true.” She sets her now-empty teacup on the small table between them and curls one leg beneath her, leaning back into the chair. “I did think about it, at first. Because it all just felt so… overwhelming. But I wanted a fresh start, and that’s what kept me going. Now this feels more like home than my last home ever did.” She turns back to him, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, that was a lot. You’re just easy to talk to.”

Yet another comment he isn’t used to hearing. If anything, he suspects he intimidates most people, with his blunt assessments and polite professionalism. But here is someone he barely knows, opening up to him like... a flower. A sunflower, he idly thinks, not sure exactly why he finds the comparison so fitting.

He glances down at his watch and reluctantly stands, grasping the book. “Thank you for the tea — and the conversation. But I should let you close for the evening.” He holds up Homer’s Odyssey and, indulging that bad habit of his, says, “I’ll take this.”

“Follow me. I’ll ring you up.”

When she hands him his receipt, she smiles at him again — that same open, warm smile that makes him feel like the world is tipping on its axis. It’s unnerving, that she can elicit such a reaction from him. But a small part of him also finds it fascinating.

“My name’s Olivia — Olivia Vale. What’s yours?”

“Nanami Kento.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san.” She leads him to the door, keys jingling in her hand. “I hope you come back soon.”

“I will.” And he means it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x oc #nanami kento x oc

[janiedean]

PLEASE tell me about sam >> the world and the rock band au.

OKAY SO:

 sam >>> the world was... originally a thing I wrote for an exchange which then I scrapped bc it got too long and I never finished it, but basically the concept was jon gets robb’s will before he’s elected LC and he accepts being kitn except he goes to sam like PLEASE SAM BE MY HAND OR I CAN’T DO THIS, and then sam was going to proceed on solving Each Single Problem Jon Could Have starting from being friends with theon to finding sansa in the vale to finding arya and sandor to basically really solving everything and it was gonna be jon/sam but eeeeh I quit when sandor showed up bc I lost track of the plot T_T HOWEVER, I WOULD LIKE TO FIND AND QUOTE YOU A BIT WHERE BASICALLY SAM DRAGGED THEON WITH HIM TO THE VALE BC HE WAS SURE THEY’D KILL HIM OTHERWISE WHERE THEON RECOGNIZED SANSA AND TOLD SAM IT WAS HER WHICH IS2G WHEN DND HAD THE SAME THING HAPPEN WITH POD AND BRIENNE IN S5 I SCREAMED BECAUSE I WROTE THIS SHIT IN 2013 OR 2014 AND I SAID WHAT I SAID

“Go, go,” Baelish says, and he looks pale as a sheet as well. At least he didn’t have anything witty to say, Sam thinks before grabbing Theon’s arm and leading him outside the room.

“Stop,” Theon tells him a moment later. “I don’t – I just need some air. I don’t think – I won’t.”

“All right,” Sam agrees before leading him towards a half-open window in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” he says as Theon takes deep, heavy breaths.

“For what?”

“I didn’t even – how did you know?”

“Don’t you think that Ramsay Bolton would have spared me the details?” Theon whispers. “I threw up. Then. And he – he also threw at me handfuls of red hair covered in blood. I told you I could play along.”

Sam thinks that he’s going to be sick.

“But – I need you to listen to me,” Theon whispers then, his voice still shaking, as if he’s forcing himself to say what he’s about to say.

“What?”

“The Lord Protector’s daughter.”

“Yes, what about her?”

“That’s no bastard. She’s Sansa Stark.”

For a moment, Sam is sure he’s heard wrong.

“She’s who?”

“Sansa. She dyed her hair and she’s older than – well, the last time I saw her, but I lived at Winterfell for nine years. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize her?”

And it does make sense. Sansa disappeared from King’s Landing when Baelish went to the Vale, didn’t she? Sam is pretty sure of that.

“And – you saw her when I was telling that story. She looked sick. As much as I felt.”

Oh gods be good. He’s right. Sam wonders how a simple mission suddenly turned out complicated – and if Theon hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have even known, would he?

He thinks about his options.

And then he hopes that he still has some courage left and that he hadn’t exhausted it when he killed an Other.

“All right,” he whispers. “I have no idea of why she’s here, but if she wants to come with… do you think you have it in yourself to go down the mountain twice in one day?”

Theon goes pale all over again. Sam had noticed that he could barely keep his eyes open the first time.

“What’s the plan?” he asks.

“I’m asking her. If it’s true, and if she’s here against her will… well, I already know I’m not getting Baelish’s men. And I’m sure that if I came back with his sister Jon – I mean –”

“You don’t need to call him His Grace,” Theon says, and he sounds almost amused. Barely. As much as someone like him can sound amused. “I couldn’t call Robb like that either.”

“Fine. Jon would like that better than an army, I think. So, do you think you can do it?”

Theon shakes his head again and then looks up at him. “I don’t think that I’d ever want to do it again, but just the fact that you asked first makes me think that I can try it.”

Well then, Sam thinks, that’s settled.

like excuse me but what the fuck

rock band au: okay so I had written this rock band au for jonc/brynden for that last prompt meme I took which I should finish one of these days but like then I was doing this chalenge and I ended up writing a sequel for it where they’re touring with theon who’s like the opening solo act for their band and him and jaime argue in the changing room also theon is with robb who’s the long suffering agent and theon wants jaime to hit on brienne who’s like going to all the concerts and it’s actually finished but I really need to revise it and see if I can put it together with the other one, at the end of it theon and robb had a moment™ backstage while jaime and brienne got together post-concert but here have a snipped or more:

“You know that girl that always is in first row, Lannister?”

“I do, Greyjoy. I very well damn do, and is there a reason you’re gloating at me now?”

“Just saying,” Theon says, and Jaime thinks, don’t finish that sentence, don’t finish that sentence, don't finish that sentence, “that while the time for groupies is over, I mean, supposedly so, considering that you invite her backstage every other moment and that she’s been at each single show of this tour, maybe you could invite her.”

“Can it,” Jaime groans, “no way. I’m not —”

“And why not? Come on, I’ve opened for your band for the entire last month, we drove through half of this bloody fucking country and I know for sure that you’re the only person in it that’s not getting any, and seeing your pretty face, it’s honestly baffling.”

“And since when do you care about how much I’m getting? Are you volunteering?”

Theon laughs, dark hair falling all over his shoulders as he fixes his leather trousers in front of their shared changing room — yes, this venue is so shitty that they have to share rooms in between bands, and fine, Theon’s technically a solo act but he does have a band, and he hopes the others are not being too cramped because their room is so small they can’t even change at the same time. He nods, pleased with his hair, definitely, and then goes to grab a black shirt from his bag and puts it on without closing it. Guess this is the night where he plays with his shirt open making sure his poor manager dies of frustration.

Robb Stark is a saint, Jaime thinks sometimes, because to manage this guy, you really need to have an insane amount of patience.

Good thing that they never needed one and Jon always took care of it, but still.

“I mean,” Theon says, “in the ideal world, I would, but alas, I know that it’s not meant to be. For one, I’m not your Kinsey scale one —”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“What, that you’re a one or that I’m not it?”

“Both, for —”

“I mean,” Theon goes on, “you obviously aren’t a zero or you wouldn’t stare at your bassist’s ass, and honestly also at your guitarist’s, and I wouldn’t exclude, you know, that you three might have had a go at it at some point —”

“That never happened!” Jaime protests, not that he hasn’t entertained that thought once or twice, but still, he doesn’t bat for that team, as a general rule. He just hates that Theon has apparently figured him out that easily.

“Regardless,” Theon goes on, “you’re a one, but if those two are your type, considering they’re both older than you and ginger and blue eyed and I’m not either of that, I think I’m not it. Also, no way you like pitching.”

+ throbb snippet

“So,” Theon says, as he drags Robb towards the back exit, “I might have told Lannister that I’d leave him the changing room for the night.”

“… What,” Robb says, following even if he’s trying to slow him down, “he finally decided to fess up to that poor girl?”

“Oh, that’s to be seen, I just gave him the chance to,” Theon shrugs, “which is why we’re taking a cab and going to the hotel at once.”

“Wait,” Robb says, “we should —”

He never finishes the sentence because Theon presses him against the wall and kisses him and fucking hell, Robb would like to just give in and let him and actually he would like to grab Theon’s shoulders and press him against the fucking wall, except —

“We should wait until the Kingsguard is done,” he breathes, “you agreed to sign those records, but it has to be with them. And people paid for it.”

“Oh, of course, ever the correct person —”

“Theon, I’m your fucking manager, you picked me, it’s not like you can exactly skirt around — obligations,” he groans when Theon sucks a bruise into his neck.

“Right, right, so you’d rather stay here and wait two hours instead of running to the hotel with me? We could make it, you know, if Jimmy Page and Robert Plant could —”

“It’s not the fucking seventies,” Robb groans, wishing Theon would just not press, even if fuck but now he really feels like he’s going to come in his trousers like a fifteen year-old and the fact that he’s definitely been wanting to kiss Theon at least since then is not helping, and yet —

“Really? I missed that memo.”

+ jb snippet

“Sure,” she says, reaching out to grab it, and then she swallows — “You know,” she said, “you sounded… more intense today.”

“Did I,” he says. “How?”

She shrugs, her large shoulders barely slimmed by the black band shirt sporting his face that she’s wearing, and fuck if it was weird being the face of the merchandise, except that it had to happen.

Fucking Targaryen.

“I’m not quite sure,” she says, “just… there was a difference? In the good sense, though. You felt… more immersed, not to say that you’re not usually, it’s just… I don’t know, I felt like crying more than once.”

Oh.

Well.

“Maybe,” he sighs, “I had a conversation with Greyjoy before that made me realize a few things,” he goes on. “I suppose. I don’t know,” he shakes his head, “I just… you’ve been listening to us since before Rhaegar fucked off, and I just — I guess it just sank in that I’m not going back to my former job anytime soon.”

“Can — can I say I’m not sad that you aren’t?”

“You can,” Jaime shrugs, “it’s just, it felt a bit too much. I never signed up for that.”

“But you sing those songs a lot better than he did.”

“Not the first person that told me that, today.”

“But it’s true. He just — he was good. But you just have a whole other delivery.” She blushes, guileless blue eyes staring into his, and he thinks of how she told him that his songs made her survive high school and some kind of ridiculous bet her supposed friends made about her fucking v-card and he just — fuck. She’s so nice. She’s the kind of nice person you wouldn’t presume listens to his fucked up lyrics, and yet.

And yet she does.

#throbb #jaime x brienne #sam tarly #theon greyjoy #wip meme #haljathefangirlcat #ask post

[persnickety-persnackety]

Set Her Free

Title: Set Her Free Word Count: 6K Ship: Jon/Sansa Rating: T For the @jonsa-halloween Halloween Event Day 7

AN; I really don’t know what this is, but this was something I chose to write for Halloween instead of sleeping, so here it is.

It was her eyes that gave her away. She could fool everybody else with that dazzling smile of hers and those charming words that escaped her lips as easy as her breath, but as someone who liked to believe he was something of a Sansa Stark-expert, Jon only had to take one look into those azure pools to know that behind the disguise of a happy façade, the woman was drowning, and no one else seemed to realize that she was silently crying for help.

Jon hadn’t wanted to attend the dinner celebrating Sansa’s engagement to that blond twat, Harry Hardying, but he had been cursed in life to have Robb Stark as his life-long best friend, and the man was rarely ever told ‘no’ so he had a tendency of pushing back whenever he heard it, especially when it came from Jon. Granted, Robb had ignored all the signs of his best friend being in love with his sister for the past decade, so he didn’t understand why Jon would want to avoid attending the engagement dinner of his younger sister to a man he secretly loathed without even having to meet him. He had been particularly relentless in batting Jon’s excuses aside until Jon realized that the chances of him not attending were basically slim to none. The only thing he could cling onto was the hope that his heart had done the opposite of growing fonder in Sansa’s absence.

That hope was dashed the second he walked into Winterfell and saw her for the first time in over twenty-four months. Her back was turned to him, the pale skin bared by the open back of the royal purple dress she was wearing, as she entertained an older couple who were undoubtedly important friends or associates of her parents. Her scarlet tresses had been dyed blonde and had been sheared to her shoulders, but even still, Jon knew it was her. He had little doubt that he would have found her even if every light was put out and they were left in sheer darkness. It was like a part of him was pulled to her no matter where they were, just like it always had done since he was a young boy.

The smart thing to do in that situation would have been to turn right around and walk right back out the door and back to his car where he could drive as far from Winterfell as he could possibly get, but such thoughts were stopped before they could bloom by Robb’s sudden appearance at his side. His best friend was on his way to being three sheets to the wind, and even though every atom in Jon’s body was desperate to both leave and to be as close to Sansa as possible, he soon realized that babysitting Robb was going to be his primary duty throughout the night.

He didn’t even get to really see her until they all sat down for dinner, and he was blessedly, or cursedly – he was torn on how he really felt, seated directly across from her at the table. Over lemon-chicken and rosemary-roasted potatoes, his eyes had met hers for the first time, and he swore that at that moment everything in the universe went still for a heartbeat, though it felt closer to an eternity. She gave him a small smile, a bare twitch of her lips, but Jon was too lost in the dark cerulean seas of her eyes to really notice it because it was in those eyes that he found himself entranced by the dark void he found there that sucked him in, even though his body remained glued to his seat. And it was while he was immersed that he realized just how somber she looked.

His first instinct was to ask if she was all right, to ask why she was so sad, but Sansa’s attention was promptly called away by her fiancé who then made it a point to keep her focus on him throughout the rest of the dinner. The smug bastard had the audacity to shoot Jon a wink when Sansa wasn’t looking, as though he knew how Jon would have given anything to have been in his seat. It took everything in Jon not to chuck his wine glass at the smarmy ass’s head, and even then, it was only realizing that there was a chance that he would get wine on Sansa’s dress that stayed his hand in the end.

It was only after dinner, while he was speaking with Ned about the security firm he was planning on opening in Winter City, that Jon finally noticed that Sansa was finally alone for the first time that evening. He couldn’t even remember what excuse he gave Ned to abruptly end the conversation, but his surrogate father seemed to understand his urgency based on the small, knowing smile he gave Jon before stepping aside to let him get to Sansa. Jon didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, having the father of the woman he loved know of his feelings when he also knew that said daughter was engaged to another man, but as soon as he reached Sansa, such thoughts disappeared from his mind altogether as his primary focus became Sansa, and Sansa alone.

She really did look radiant in that dress that accentuated every line and complimented every curve. The fact that it showcased those never-ending legs of hers was also something he would have loved to admire more had he not been so determined to be a gentleman by keeping his eyes glued to above her neck. Yes, he missed those dark red tresses that his fingers had always itched to run through, but even as a blonde, Sansa was a vision that he would have gladly spent the rest of his life drinking in. But even in the middle of his yearning, the melancholy that emanated from her eyes was too prominent to be ignored, especially when it came from a girl who was supposed to be blissfully in love with a man she was going to marry and spend the rest of her life with.

Jon didn’t even know what he was planning on saying when he approached her. All he knew was that he couldn’t bear to just sit back in silence while watching her schmooze and entertain in the midst of her own silent suffering. A part of him was almost wary about ending her small moment of solace from the madness of the party, but even when she was by herself, that look in her eyes remained. It was like a dark stain that refused to be removed by cheer and laughter, and he couldn’t allow himself to let it go unaddressed.

He nearly forgot what he was preparing to say when he reached her and she looked up to meet his questioning gaze. The wide smile that spread across her pink-glossed lips nearly stole the breath right out from his lungs. It almost made him realize how so many people could fail to see that something was amiss because being the subject of that blinding smile almost made it hard for one to focus on anything else. She was that captivating.

“Jon! Oh, I can’t believe that the party is nearly over and this is the first time I’m actually talking to you,” she proclaimed with a hint of reprimand in her cheerful tone. “I’m so sad that we didn’t get more time to catch up, but I’m so glad that you came. It wouldn’t feel right celebrating my engagement here in Winterfell without one of the staple presences here in the North being here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and you look amazing! How are you?”

Even though her line of questioning was fairly standard when it came to conversations and greetings, Sansa’s sincerity was what made it feel so genuine and open. The fact that she looked like she actually cared about his answer was what made it hard for Jon to push down those yearnings that never really went away to focus on his original intent.

He gave a cursory response, forcing himself to keep things light in his summary of his life, but Sansa nodded along with her gaze fixated on him like he was the only person in the universe. Jon would never dare to presume that her interest went anywhere beyond platonic, but just the fact that she took an active interest made his chest both feel warm and ache at the same time. It also pushed him to ensure that everything was okay with her.

“That’s enough about me,” he finally said, choosing that time to turn the conversation back to her. “Tonight, after all, is supposed to be all about you. How are you, Sansa? How’s your life going?”

It was her hesitance before responding that made Jon realize that his feeling of something being off with her was correct. Any other woman, after all, would have been ready to spout off how happy and excited they were to begin their new life with their significant other at their engagement dinner, but in that moment of hesitation, that sad look in her eyes grew stronger.

Of course, being the only daughter of Catelyn Stark, Sansa was back on her game less than a second later, forcing a wide smile on her face as she blathered about Harry and his job, as well as her being knee-deep in wedding planning. Jon couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem to have much to say about her own personal life outside of Harry and the wedding, which he found to be a bit disconcerting. Maybe that was why she didn’t seem like her completely bubbly-self.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sansa?” he asked her after she finally finished prattling on about the house that she and Harry were looking into buying back in the Vale.

At his question, the ever-present smile on Sansa’s lips faltered and her eyebrows became screwed up in alarm. Jon almost felt like he had made a grave error in his persistent questioning, but it was the way her eyes suddenly took on a glassy look that forced him to push on.

“I’m happy that you found the perfect guy for you, Sansa,” that was actually a lie, but he didn’t necessarily want her to know that, “but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem a little… dejected? Are you sure that everything’s all right with you?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her blue eyes studying his as though looking for some kind of deception or duplicity in his question, but after a moment, she seemed to be satisfied with what she saw because there was no anger or irritation on her face; in fact, Jon swore he saw a brief flash of relief in her gaze. The look became magnified as she took a step closer to him, closing the small distance between them, with her mouth open, ready to answer him – something that Jon found himself desperate to hear – but before she could say anything, Catelyn’s voice broke through the spell.

“Sansa, there you are!” the Stark matriarch called out, pulling Sansa’s gaze from his, though Jon yearned to bring it back. Catelyn shot Jon a solemn look, something that Jon was used to being on the receiving end of throughout the many years he had come and gone from Winterfell. He could just tell with that one look that she was not pleased to find that he was the reason she had not been able to find her daughter. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Harry is talking to Wyman Manderly and I don’t think that he’s making much headway with him, so you’re needed.”

Sansa nodded, but she turned to Jon with remorse etched on her face. She opened her mouth, most likely to utter some kind of apology, but Jon wasn’t in the mood the hear it.

“You’d better go. I’m actually thinking of heading out now, anyway, so I’m just glad that you and I got the chance to talk and catch up while I could,” he said, forcing his own smile onto his lips in an attempt to make her feel better about leaving him. 

It was clear that Sansa didn’t believe him, but Catelyn had grown impatient and was already pulling Sansa back into the main room where the rest of the guests were gathered together. Just before the two women re-entered the fray, Sansa shot him another look over her shoulder, and Jon, who hadn’t moved a muscle despite his previous statement that he was getting ready to leave, met her glace with a sad smile, even as he watched the hopelessness bleed back into her eyes. 

That would be the last time he saw her as a Stark because, after tonight, she would be heading back to the Vale with Harry, and based on Harry’s reaction to him, Jon highly doubted he would get an invitation to the wedding. This had been his last chance to see her as the woman he loved.

As he stood with his back physically and metaphorically against the wall, Jon couldn’t help but think of how he wished that Sansa had retained some of the fierceness she once had as a child. It was clear that Harry was a choice that Sansa made to appease her mother and her high expectations, something she had been dealing with for years as the only daughter of the legendary Catelyn Stark, but he wasn’t sure that she was truly happy with her choice. Jon just wished that she had some of the rebelliousness she had once had as a girl who once made the ever-proper Catelyn Stark want to pull her hair out. She had been the cause of a lot of problems in Winterfell, but that was the girl that he had fallen in love with, even though he hadn’t even known what the word ‘love’ really meant at the time.

When Sansa was a young girl, she had been like night to her current day as a woman. As much as she tried to be proper for her mother, there had been a mischievous, veering toward dangerous, streak in little Sansa as well. One minute she was drinking tea with her dolls, and the next she was making mud pies on Catelyn Stark’s thousand-dollar marble countertops. One second, she would be picking flowers and making crowns with them, and then the next, she was chopping Waymar Royce’s action figures into pieces with a hatchet as payback for him making fun of Bran for having to walk with braces on his legs. One moment she was an angel, and then suddenly she was doing something that would make anyone think she had been possessed by a demon. It had driven her mother crazy, but to Jon, she had been precious.

It was then that Jon remembered how a lot of the mischief that Sansa got up to throughout her childhood was attributed to her imaginary friend that she had from the moment she could talk. Arya Underfoot was her name, and it was a name that always popped up whenever Catelyn or Ned demanded to know what Sansa had been thinking after she had committed a particularly naughty act.

“Why would you cut up your mother’s sheets, Sansa?” “Arya Underfoot said that they would make the best snowflakes, Daddy. Don’t you think they look beautiful?”

“Why did you write those foul things on the wall, Sansa?” “Arya Underfoot thought that they would cheer Bran up after his surgery, and it did, Mommy! Didn’t you hear him laugh?”

Jon could remember quite a few things that “Arya Underfoot” had supposedly persuaded Sansa to do within the walls of Winterfell, but nothing her parents threatened could ever make Sansa exile her friend. Not even her friends’ ridicule for having an imaginary could sway Sansa to give up her invisible companion. Nothing worked.

Up until she was twelve-years-old, Sansa clung to Arya Underfoot like she was a piece of herself, and then on her twelfth birthday, Arya Underfoot just mysteriously disappeared from Sansa’s life. Jon’s memories were a bit fuzzy, but he swore that losing Arya Underfoot came about shortly after Sansa had pulled a prank on Ramsay Bolton at her party that had resulted in Ramsay having his hair completely singed off, which had abruptly ended the party and had left Catelyn Stark positively seething. Her angry yells could be heard everywhere in Winterfell, and nothing Ned said could calm her down. 

Sansa had seemed genuinely sorry to have upset her mother, but she wasn’t repentant when it came to what she had done to Ramsay. All she would say on the matter was that it was better that it was his hair that got burnt off and not the walls of Winterfell. That was all Jon remembered her saying right before she was sentenced to her room for the rest of the night. She wasn’t even allowed to open the presents her guests had given her.

The next time Jon saw Sansa, he noticed a change in her right away. She seemed solemn, withdrawn, and yet she also seemed eager to stay around her mother, like she needed her to fill the void that Arya Underfoot had left. Jon still didn’t know what happened that night to make Sansa give up her imaginary friend, but he couldn’t help but think that if the adult Sansa had Arya Underfoot, she wouldn’t seem so lost in her own skin.

As if that realization sparked to life something in his brain, Jon soon found his feet almost moving of their own accord away from the front door toward the stairs that led to the upstairs rooms of the giant manse. He was a bit confused as to where his feet were taking him until he found himself in front of the door that led to the room that had once belonged to Sansa. Though the guilt of invading her privacy was nearly overpowering, that newly enflamed spark of awareness in his mind propelled him forward through the door that he had been reluctant to open.

The room looked the same as it did the last time that he visited Sansa, which had been shortly after he graduated high school and was preparing to join the Watch. The white walls were still decorated with the posters of the bands she loved in high school, and the bed and furnishings appeared untouched, which made him think that she and Harry were staying in another guest room instead of staying in her room or they were staying in a hotel instead of at Winterfell. That made him feel a little less guilty as he walked further into the room and started looking around for something – something he didn’t even know he was looking for but felt that he needed to find. It was a strange feeling – one that was a bit frightening considering how strong it was in his mind despite him not even knowing where it originated from. All that thought seemed to say was that there was something Sansa needed, and it was somewhere in her old bedroom.

“This is crazy,” he muttered aloud when he found himself opening Sansa’s closet door and took note of the old clothing she had left behind. “What, in all the bleeding hells, am I doing here?”

Don’t give up, you bleeding idiot. She needs me.

Jon didn’t know where that thought came from, and the foreignness of it made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight on end. The thought definitely didn’t feel like one of his own, which meant that it had to be coming from somewhere else. It was the fact that it seemed to have seen the same thing he did in Sansa that kept him from running out of the room and straight for the front door. If it wanted to help Sansa, it couldn’t possibly be evil… right?

Even though Jon had no idea what he, or it, was looking for, he was almost certain he had found it when his fingers brushed something hard and wooden on the top shelf of Sansa’s closet. A rush of excitement slithered up his spine, though he didn’t even know why he should be excited at all. Deep down, he knew that it wasn’t his excitement he was feeling, but that something else that was inside of him, but he refused to let his mind dwell on such a thought. He focused his attention, instead, on pulling the item down into the light, where he was able to see that the object that he had found was a small square jewelry box, barely the length of his forefinger. The lid was held closed by lots and lots of silver duct tape – a freakish amount if he was being honest with himself. It was only when Jon actually got a good look at the actual jewelry box beneath the tape, that he remembered where he had last seen it: it was in Sansa’s grasp on the day of her twelfth birthday – the one where she had seemingly lost Arya Underfoot.

“Are you in there?” Jon questioned the box as his mind starting piecing together a picture that was forming in his brain, not really caring that he was possibly addressing Sansa’s long-lost imaginary friend, something he had never believed in before. But considering what he had heard inside his head, he wasn’t sure that it was completely out of the realm of probability anymore. “Are you in there, Arya Underfoot?”

There was nothing but silence in response to his question, making Jon think that he had imagined everything and he was now invading Sansa’s privacy for no other reason than his own feigned belief that she needed rescuing. He left the room hastily, careful to close the door behind him, but despite his irritable thoughts on why he had allowed himself to go to her room, he found that he still had the taped jewelry box clutched tight in his hand, though he didn’t know why he chose to keep it.

When he descended the steps, he was shocked to find Sansa standing at the foot of the staircase, staring out at something that he couldn’t yet see. It was only when he was a step above her, and his view was no longer obstructed by the banister, that Jon was able to look out and see that she was watching her fiancé mingle amongst a small group of people. The group consisted mostly of women, and all of them seemed to have taken the same path as Robb, imbibing as much drink as possible, because two of the women, whose names Jon didn’t know and didn’t really care to find out, were draping themselves over Harry like coats being flung on a coat rack. The truly infuriating part of it all, however, was the fact that the man seemed to revel in the drunken attention as he openly flirted with the soused females, not seeming to care that he was doing it in front of his own fiancée. Jon didn’t understand how Sansa could just stand back and let it happen.

“Harry’s always been a very… tactile person,” Sansa remarked sullenly, her voice giving little inflection in spite of the implication. Jon was incensed on her behalf.

“Mother says that men like Harry tend to be like that but that they stop once they get married.” She raised the full glass of arbor gold in her hand to her lips and drained the golden liquid in one go. “I  suppose she is just saying that because the wedding invitations to hers and Dad’s friends have already been sent out, and there’s no way she would ever let me bear the scandal of pulling out of this arrangement now.”

Jon scoffed; his lips turned down into a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. If she knew that her daughter was marrying a philanderer, Catelyn would castrate him herself with her bare hands. I don’t think you’re giving your mother enough credit.”

Sansa shrugged her shoulders, a tell that she was veering toward drunkenness herself. “Harry’s a flirt, but he’s not a cheater, Jon. He wouldn’t do that to me,” she said, staring hard at the ground, proving that she didn’t really believe the things she was saying.

“Sansa –“ Jon began, ready to both reprimand and console her, but Sansa held her hand up, begging for him to stop.

“I know you may think I’m weak for saying this, but… I have to choose to see the best in Harry because he’s the best that I’m probably going to find. I just need to do a better job of hiding my insecurities toward him, is all.”

Shaking his head, Jon reached out and grabbed Sansa’s free hand, clutching it tightly in his own. “I don’t care about him, Sansa. I only care about you,” he declared firmly, squeezing her hand tightly in his own. “The only thing I want is for you to be happy, and if that asshole doesn’t do it for you, then I don’t want you to be with him anymore, let alone marrying him.”

Her eyes started to glisten as she stared first at her hand in his and then lifted her gaze to meet his own. “I wish I was brave enough to fight for happiness, Jon,” she whispered quietly, her words barely audible over the din of the other people in the room. “I’m almost certain I know where I would be able to find it.”

Jon wanted nothing more than to just lean forward and press his lips to hers, but Sansa was already pulling her hand from his as she took a step back away from him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m made for happiness, and so that means I have to stick with the sure-thing I’ve got.”

A single tear slid from the corner of her eye, down her cheek. She wiped it away swiftly as she forced a smile back onto her lips – the disconnect from her lips and her eyes more evident than ever. She then turned and started heading back to the room.

“Sansa, wait!” Jon called out for her, running to her. He almost feared that she wouldn’t listen, but just as he reached her, she stopped, though she refused to actually look at him. So, instead, he took her hand in his instead.

“You are made for happiness, and when you’re ready to accept that, you know where you can always find me,” he declared, and with that, he slipped the taped-up jewelry box in her hand and closed her fingers over it to secure it against her palm. With it, he hoped that he gave her some of the strength he once possessed.

Sansa’s brow furrowed when she looked down at what he had given her, but Jon couldn’t bear to stay in the same room as that fake smile one minute longer. Releasing her hand, he gave her one last parting smile before turning and finally walking out of the front door, the cold Northern air cooling the tears that were already beginning to fall down his face.

 2 Weeks Later

The call came at three in the morning. Jon nearly knocked his cell phone off his nightstand in his blind attempt to shut it up, but sleep had faded enough by the time he actually grabbed a hold of it to prevent him from throwing the phone across the room. With his mind slowly leaving the semi-fogged state, he looked at the caller id to see that it was from Robb. Pressing answer, he raised the phone to his ear with a grumbled hello.

“Jon?” Robb called out, his voice filled with a frenzied panic that snapped Jon the rest of the way out of sleep’s grasp. “Gods, please tell me you’re up! It’s an emergency.”

“Wh-what is it?” Jon questioned, immediately sitting up in his bed, fully awake. “Are the boys okay? Are your parents? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sansa, Jon!” Robb answered, making the blood freeze in Jon’s veins.

“Is she okay? Is she all right? What’s wrong? Where is she?” he demanded frantically as he felt his heart painfully freeze up inside his chest.

Robb didn’t seem to notice that Jon was on the verge of having a panic attack. His response was still desperate for him, but still somewhat subdued compared to how Jon was feeling. “Her fiancé’s dead, Jon. The asshole was getting a blowjob by some bimbo while he was driving around, and he somehow lost control of the car and drove it right off a mountain. Sansa just called me from home after she got the visit from the police.”

Jon’s nerves were somewhat less frazzled with the news that Sansa had been well enough to call Robb, but hearing that her fiancé had died like that only made him irate.

“Sansa’s at their house, but to make matters worse, the asshole filmed himself doing all of that crap just before he died, and somehow the video got posted to all of his social media accounts, so everyone now knows that he’s a dick and that he died being one. If he wasn’t dead already, I would murder him!”

Even though Jon had never liked the bloke, he couldn’t help but feel remorse at the fact that a man had lost his life. It just felt overwhelming that something like that would happen to her when she was so determined to make a go of it with him. Deep down he was relieved that she didn’t have to anymore.

“You’re right, the guy’s a dick, Robb. Still, I’m so sorry to hear that Sansa has to go through all of that,” he said, hoping he sounded the right amount of remorseful and disgust  despite the fact that he was overcome with an overpowering sense of relief.

“Yeah, well… Sansa is really shaken up. She’s at the police station, but my parents are flying out right now to go get her… They just want her home, now more than anything. I just needed to talk to someone to keep myself from going crazy thinking about how things have gone for her. She didn’t deserve this.”

Jon stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, soothing his best friend and assuring him that everything would be okay before he had relaxed Robb enough for him to try going back to sleep. After hanging up the phone, however, sleep was the very last thing on his mind. Now, more than ever, he was concerned about Sansa, but also about the events that had led up to her fiancé dying.

Did he have a part to play in it? A niggling thought made itself known in the back of Jon’s mind. His memory flashed back to the box he had placed in Sansa’s hand and the voice he had heard in the back of his head. She needs me. Did what he does lead up to this?

As though she had read his mind, despite being hundreds of miles away from him, Sansa’s name appeared on the screen of his phone, though it was a text rather than a phone call. Jon didn’t know why, but his fingers shook as he opened the message, as though he just knew that it was going to shake his entire world up.

Sansa: I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I guess you not only see everything, but you’re right about everything, too.

 Jon: I didn’t want to be right like this. I hope you know that. You deserved so much better than Harry. You always did

 A couple of minutes passed, though they felt like hours to Jon who wanted some kind of assurance that he didn’t sound like a complete ass to someone who had just lost her fiancé, even though he had died while he was cheating on her. Finally, he received another notification saying he had received another text from her, which he opened eagerly.

 Sansa: Arya Underfoot seemed to have agreed with you, Jon.

 Frowning, confused, Jon stared at her message for a long moment, trying to grasp what it was she was trying to say.

 Jon: What exactly does that mean, Sansa?

 Sansa: I think you know what I mean already, Jon. Why else would you have given her back to me?

 Jon: Are you saying that she… that tonight was because of her?

 Sansa: I can’t say for sure… but she did tell me that she didn’t want me to be with Harry. I’m pretty sure she may have made Harry swerve off the road tonight because right before she said she was going to leave me for good, and she told me that I needed to be brave soon. I think with the accident, that’s what she meant.

 Before Jon could even fathom how to respond to that, another text notification came in for him to open.

 Sansa: I think I’m ready to be happy now, Jon.

  3 Years Later

Jon ran into the hospital with panic etched on his face and anxiety drilling into his heart.  A last minute meeting had made him miss the calls from his wife that she had gone into labor and had been rushed to the hospital by her mother. By the time he had gotten out of his meeting, he found out that she had delivered the baby, and they were both healthy.

Walking into the room where his wife and newborn baby were sleeping, Jon went to her bedside and covered his wife’s face in kisses until her eyes fluttered open. He then kissed her lips desperately, both in gratitude for being so strong and bringing their child into the world and for allowing him to be the one to give her the happiness he had once promised her.

“Have you seen the baby yet?” Sansa finally questioned once she managed to push him back enough for her to speak.

Jon shot a furtive glance to the bassinet, his eyes already misting as he reluctantly walked away from his wife to peer at the child that she and he had made. He didn’t stop until he was peering down at the tiny, slumbering form, his vision blurring by the rush of tears that were beginning to build up in his eyes at the mere sight of the precious bundle.

“Congratulations, Daddy, it’s a baby girl,” Sansa cooed from her hospital bed, her own eyes wet as she watched him.

“A girl?” Jon asked as he knelt down to bring his face closer to his daughter’s. “Really?”

Sansa grinned and nodded happily. “She’s practically perfect already, but she has a pair of lungs on her that the nurses say always wakes up the other babies in the nursery, so I just told them to let her stay with me because I don’t mind hearing her voice.”

Jon chuckled and wiped at his eyes before reaching down and gently lifting the small bundle into his arms. The baby gurgled and grumbled a little at being shifted, but she stayed asleep as Jon cradled her in the crook of his arm and pressed a kiss to her brow.

“Did you name her yet?” he asked Sansa as he started to rock his daughter despite her already being asleep.

“I wanted to wait for you to come before I did.”

Jon didn’t want to ever put her down, but it wasn’t long before she woke up crying, ready to be fed and he had to relinquish her to Sansa, though he sat right next to her to watch the baby feed. With her awake, he was able to see more of her features and it was a bit starling to see that she had his eyes and his hair. He was a little disappointed that she didn’t take more after Sansa, but as he looked down at her, he couldn’t help but think that she was still absolutely perfect just the way she was. Also, in addition to the strong resemblance to him, there was something about her that felt oddly… familiar about her.

“Did you have any names picked out that you wanted to name her?” he asked his wife, who was staring lovingly at their daughter as she fed her.

Sansa looked up from the baby for a second to look into his eyes with a shy smile before she hesitantly shook her head ‘no’. But Jon didn’t quite believe her. Still, he felt like there was already a name building up on his tongue, ready for him to just open his lips and speak it aloud.

“What would you say… to calling her Arya?”

The relieved sigh that left Sansa’s lips was more than confirmation enough for him that he had made the right choice.

“How did you know I wanted to call her that?” Sansa asked softly as she pulled him down to her so she could kiss him.

Jon shrugged, not sure how he could explain his own strange connection to her strange imaginary friend. “She just looked like an Arya to me, I guess. What about you?”

“Well, Arya Underfoot was already grown when I first saw her, but looking at our Arya…I can’t help but think that they’re going to be identical. Does that make this even weirder for you?”

“Considering the roll she played in getting us together, I’m not sure I can disagree at all, love,” Jon confessed quietly. “All I can say is she’s here with us now, and that’s all that matters. And because we brought her here, together, we’re going to make sure she has the happiest life that we can possibly give her.”

Sansa pulled him down for another kiss, but before Jon could deepen it, Arya finished feeding and was letting the milk drop onto her face. She started to whimper as Sansa gently cleaned her face up and then pressed delicate kisses on her forehead.

“Welcome to the world, Arya Underfoot,” Sansa whispered softly into the baby’s ear, just loud enough for Jon to hear. “You gave me the world, and now I promise I’m going to give the world back to you.”

Jon squeezed both of his girls to him and kissed both of their heads gently before staring at his daughter lovingly. “Welcome home, Arya Stark.”

#jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fic #jonsa #jon x sansa #got fic #sansa stark #jon snow #arya underfoot #imaginary friend!au #reincarnation #jonsa halloween event #day 7 #i may delete this once i've gotten more sleep #this is literally insomnia brain writing #i got this idea after watching drop dead fred #my writing #fic: set her free

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Full Moon Dance

Word Count: 2700+ (chapter 1) (chapter 2) [AO3 link]

Genre: Humor/Romance

Characters: Raven Branwen, Summer Rose, Qrow Branwen, Taiyang Xiao Long, Kite Branwen (OC, mentioned)

Pairing: Raven Branwen/Summer Rose

Summary: Misunderstanding what "taking a partner" is supposed to entail, Raven asks Summer to the Vytal Festival Dance.She did not expect that to become a gateway to facing her changing feelings for her teammates and her place at Beacon.

(I meant to have this posted for the free day of @rose-bird-week but missed the mark by a few days)

~0~

“Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours.”

Vera Nazarian

~0~

Culture shock was a phrase that Raven had grown to truly detest by the end of her first year at Beacon. Navigating the obstacle course that was non-tribe society seemed to trip her and Qrow up at every turn, even as constantly helpful as Summer tried to be. 

(Considering how funny Tai found them sometimes, she would hesitate to fully include him in the “helpful” category.) 

When they’d gone back home to the tribe for their break, Kite had insisted on several nights where the three of them took dinner and drinks alone in her tent, so she could squeeze her twins for every last detail of their new school lives. Which Raven supposed she understood, coming from their leader who they’d never been apart from for so long, but she could have done without quite that much raucous laughter at their missteps. 

But by the time they got into the swing of second year, Raven thought that they had fully gotten the hang of this whole “living in the real world” thing, as Qrow was given to calling it. So when on the way back from class she started to hear the strains of an animated conversation, she didn’t think she would need to ask about exactly what was being discussed.

“...what everyone does,” Tai was saying. “Just don’t think so hard about it!”

Their backs were to her as they walked in the direction of their dorm room, so she couldn’t see Qrow’s face. But she could see him slowly nodding, and could picture the look of deep contemplation that probably accompanied it. This must be serious business.

“But I’ve got no idea what to do! We don’t have these things in Anima!”

“...No offense, but you guys don’t really have that much in Anima, do you?”

“You’re just catching on to that? And, I mean, I guess we do, but it’s not like it’s a fun party. What’s even the point of this dance thing?”

Recognition sparked in Raven’s head. Of course it was that.

Her primary interest in the Vytal Festival was combat, of course. The two of them hadn’t effortlessly crushed all competition Beacon had to offer, all the time, the way she’d expected coming in. But it was close enough that they were hungering for new opponents to test their strength, as were their teammates, so the influx of new students coming in for the tournament had her very excited. 

(Bloodthirsty, Qrow called the gleam in her eye, but she thought that was a bit too strong a word.)

She was determined not to make any more accidental friends — two was quite enough! — so the idea of wasting so much time fraternizing had not caught her interest at all. It was nothing like the occasional, informal bonfires of the Mistrali and Animan bandit tribes, where in the dark hours of uneasy peace, agreements and alliances could be brokered, and the future heirs of the kingdom’s underworld could get a feel for each other.

In any case, Qrow had not participated in one since he was thirteen and a large tree branch had fallen on Eiric Athdara while they’d been trying awkwardly to dance together. He’d blamed his Semblance and spent the next four years’ worth of bonfires sulking in the shadows, much to the confusion of everyone who had found him appealing and the exasperation of Kite. With all their positions here only temporary, Raven still wasn’t clear about the purpose of this event, and was interested in Tai’s explanation.

“Well, it’s fun!”

She resisted the urge to groan.

But she could hear the smile in Tai’s voice as he rambled on. “Remember that birthday party we threw you two? It’s even better than that, because nobody’s expecting anything of you, because you’re not the center of attention. You can do whatever you like—”

Oh, yeah? thought Raven with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah?” leered Qrow, wagging his, and earning himself a punch in the shoulder from his partner. 

“You know what I mean, Qrow, good gods. Anyway, it’s just about having fun. You don’t even have to know how to dance, or wear anything super fancy. The important part is the people you’re with.”

“Well, sure. But I don’t know if there’s anybody else I’d want to take with me. Though everyone else gets so upset when I say no, I oughta just say yes to the next one who asks. Let them tag along.”

Raven didn’t know why he sounded so despondent about it. Warning would-be suitors away with her ever-improving sword was something she’d been doing since her first weeks here without a second thought. She still wasn’t sure why their numbers had increased the closer this dance got, but it made no difference to her.

“Oh, come on, you don’t need to do that!” Tai threw his arm around Qrow’s shoulders, grinning. “You’re going to have a great partner to get you through it!”

Raven blinked. This was news to her. You were supposed to go with your partner? Making arrangements with someone else was some sort of exception? Well, this was just getting more confusing by the day, but she could work with it. 

“That’ll be fine, then,” she said out loud, making the boys jump and whip around so fast they knocked their heads together doing it.

“Ow! Raven, what the hell?!” Qrow shouted, as if she personally had whacked him upside the head. 

Tai looked only mildly surprised. “You should have said something if you wanted to join in.”

“No need,” Raven replied, with a small toss of her head. “I’ve already figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” 

The three of them looked up towards a nearby staircase to see Summer trotting down it, looking interested in whatever fragments of conversation she’d heard. 

Raven looked back at her curiously: if this was the custom around here, why hadn’t Summer said anything to her about it? She gathered that Summer too had been raised outside the kingdoms, from what little she was willing to say about her background, but she’d lived in Vale long enough to know about things like this. Well, no matter, she was making up for it now.

“Hey, Summer!” she called up. “You’re going to the dance with me, aren’t you?”

She hadn’t expected a simple question to make the hallway go silent, but it did. Summer blinked, staring open-mouthed at her for a long moment. Then her face lit up, and she let out an almost exhilarated laugh.

“Sure, of course I will!” 

The delight in her voice startled Raven somewhat, but she recovered quickly. “All right, then.”

By now, she was used to being carried away on Summer’s zest for life. But Raven found the way she nearly flew down the rest of the stairs to grab both of Raven’s hands in hers, smiling so brightly, to be unusual even for her. Shouldn’t she have seen this coming? Or was Raven supposed to be the one to make the first move all along, for some reason, and Summer was just excited that she was finally getting with the program? 

Being landed with her partner in the first place had been so damned convoluted that this might as well happen (and she hoped this wouldn’t also involve Summer falling on top of her head from an ungodly high place). Still, she wondered whether it really called for Summer nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’d just been told Solstice had come early. 

“I’m so glad you told me when you did! I was going to just rent one of the basic white dresses, but now I know for sure we’re both going I’ll look for nicer ones — and I can do your hair! I’ll pick something out, just give me a little bit!”

With that, Summer disappeared back up the stairs in a flash of white cloak. Raven had a brief and blissful moment of thinking she had successfully navigated the situation, until she turned to see Tai and Qrow’s jaws both nearly on the floor. 

“What?”

“W-Well...” Tai was the first to find his voice again. “We just...didn’t expect you to ask her out, out of the blue, is all.”

Raven raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Aren’t you supposed to go to this thing with your partner?”

Both boys’ mouths became perfect O’s of realization. They looked at each other, and then back at her. 

“Oh,” said Qrow. “Uh, Raven, we should probably talk about something...”

~0~

There was no way she could let Kite hear about this.

Raven didn’t think her cheeks would ever stop burning. Not even the cooling late afternoon air helped. At least nobody could easily spot her here. 

Usually, when she screwed up some Valerian social norm or another, she was able to either brush it off or bluff well enough that it didn’t look like a screwup at all. And even if neither of those worked, she was much better at intimidating people into silence about it than her brother. Absolutely none of those methods would work here. 

Logically, she knew that Summer wasn’t the petty or easily embarrassed type. Still, the thought of finding her and admitting to her mistake...gods, how could she have been so dumb? She didn’t want to imagine the disappointment on Summer’s face the next time she—

“Raven! Hey, Raven? Could, uh...could I come up there with you?”

Raven startled, and glanced down to see Summer hanging out over the windowsill, peering up at her. Perhaps the tree directly outside their dorm room hadn’t been the best place to flee to if she wanted to remain undiscovered. 

“...Sure. If you can climb.”

Uncannily squirrel-like, Summer hopped out the window onto the trunk, and scurried up several feet of tree to reach the branch that Raven had taken up residence on. Scooting over slightly to give her room to sit, Raven noticed that she wasn’t just eager to help: she looked a little abashed as well, a look that only became more pronounced in the short silence that followed.

“So...” Summer rubbed the back of her head, mussing her braids. “I talked to Tai and Qrow and I...think I owe you an apology.”

“You do? Why?”

“Well, I misunderstood. I made a bunch of assumptions and...” Summer gestured to the branches around them. “Scared you up a tree.”

“Hmph. Scared is a bit of a strong word, don’t you think?”

“I guess. But still: I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

Raven sighed. “I was the one who acted without thinking. You don’t have to worry about it.”

To her relief, Summer didn’t look to be worried anymore...but she did look thoughtful. “So...what would you have done if you’d asked and I didn’t want to go with you? Hypothetically, I mean?”

It did not take Raven long to hit upon the answer. “Hid somewhere better than this and avoided you until it was all over.”

Summer laughed, but Raven wondered if that was concern in her eyes. “You know that’s not a very good way to handle your feelings, right?”

“Well, it’s best to go with your gut on these things,” Raven huffed. “Honestly, I’d rather just skip all this dance nonsense and get to the part where we thrash everyone else in the arena. No messing around, just winning.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be great!”

She had expected Summer to agree with her: she wasn’t fiercely competitive like her or Tai, but everybody liked to win. However, by now she knew her partner well enough to tell that, though her smile was impeccable, her response was just a bit too enthusiastic to be honest.

Determined not to miss anything this time, Raven spent a long moment studying the other girl’s face, replaying their conversation in her head to — hey, wait a minute. 

Summer blinked. “Raven? Why are you looking at me all suspicious?”

“...Before, when you said ‘hypothetically,’ how did you mean it? As in, hypothetically, what would I have done...or if you hypothetically didn’t want to go?”

“I...well...the second one,” she murmured.

Ah. She’d been so worried about her own stung pride that she had forgotten all about how excited Summer had been. So that was that.

“I mean, of course you can still go. I’m not going to stop you.”

“I was always planning on it. I’ve never been to anything like this before, either. But...” Raven very nearly jumped when she felt Summer’s hand slide on top of hers, her palm so soft it always surprised her. “I was really hoping we could go together.”

“Like as a team, or...?”

Summer didn’t laugh, just gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “With you.”

Oh. 

All of a sudden the shapes of the clouds in the distance were very, very interesting. 

“You...you like to dance, then?”

“My parents used to. My dad, especially.” The smile in Summer’s voice was wholly genuine this time, if wistful with nostalgia. “He’d always coax my father into it, outside when the moon was full. My father would grumble about it, pretend he wasn’t sappy enough to love it. But he was, every time. I could tell.”

Raven wasn’t sure what was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up: Summer’s thumb idly rubbing against her hand, the strangely melodic tone of her voice, or the vague and discomfiting sense, that hit every time Summer let them hear something about her life before Beacon, that she was close to a secret. 

All any of them really knew about it was that Summer had once had fathers, and now did not. Raven of all people didn’t want to instigate any digging into their team’s secrets. Kite wasn’t her mother, but for these purposes...

“My mom didn’t do any of that stuff. I don’t know how to dance, either.”

“We can learn together, then.”

Wow, those clouds. Definitely more deserving of attention than her rapidly pounding heart. 

“Raven? Would you like that?”

For a good few moments, Raven wasn’t sure she would be able to answer. When she finally did, it was in a voice much lower and quieter than she had expected. At least it was steady.

“...Yes. Yeah, I think I would.”

“Then we will. I promise.”

She nearly fell backwards off the tree branch, when she felt the feather-light touch of Summer’s lips on her cheek. They were only there for the most fleeting of seconds, making her almost wonder if she’d been wrong...but no,  she couldn’t possibly mistake it for anything else, and finally turned to stare at her partner.

Color. When Raven looked back on this moment years, even decades later, it would be all of its colors that lingered the most in her memory. The faint pink that painted Summer’s cheeks, the softer shade of her lips. The perfectly clear blue sky behind her head, that made the deep red ends of her hair stand out like fire against it. And the silver moonlight of her eyes — it occurred to Raven for the first time that she had never seen anything quite like them — that shone just as brightly as her smile.

Something twisted in her chest, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. She felt sure that Kite would smirk at it, though. 

Remember what you’re here for, Raven, she would remind her. She’s not really your partner. She’s your victim. 

Normally, she submitted to the voice of her leader, like any loyal Branwen. Today...she did not push it aside, exactly. But she could wait a little while to heed it, and push her luck just a bit more today.

“On second thought...I’d be honored to escort you, Summer,” she said, lifting her head a little higher and affecting the tone that Kite took with other tribe leaders. “So long as you can promise you won’t let me make such a fool of myself again.”

Summer giggled, clearly relieved. “I promise that too! I’ll make sure of it.”

“You know, with Tai and Qrow there to soak up all the attention, that’ll probably be easier than you think.”

“Well, maybe. Let’s give them some credit. And I can’t promise that you won’t get any attention. I still get to take you dress shopping and do your hair, don’t I?”

“...You keep saying that,” Raven said dubiously, “but when you say do...what exactly are you picturing?”

“One day...” Summer reached out again and ran her fingers through the back of Raven’s hair, where they promptly got stuck around the middle of her neck. “One day this won’t happen.”

She tugged a little to emphasize the point, but not hard enough to hurt. Raven was certainly in no hurry to have her remove her hand. 

“Actually, if you want, we could climb down and start trying stuff out now. See what styles you like?”

“Sure. Just...not right now.” The breeze was blowing gently in their faces, and Raven couldn’t quite place the scent that it carried to them, only that it was clean and sweet and she liked it. “Mind if we hang out up here for a while? It’s nice out.”

In answer, Summer leaned over and rested her head on Raven’s shoulder. “Yeah. It is.”

The birds had flown off, and the clouds thinned out, leaving only the perfect sky behind. Raven couldn’t seem to remember the last time she’d felt so very relaxed. Had she really been so furious with herself just a few minutes ago?

This really was good. She found herself wanting more. Perhaps this dance was something to look forward to after all.

#rosebird #raven branwen #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #rwby #team strq #kaen's fics

[areyounxsty]

{{i find it kind of hilarious that @dracoarticuli talks about night vale being this Dangerous Place to Avoid Under All Circumstances and people not remembering ever having lived their because like

that’s. literally a significant part of skylar’s backstory}}

#{{her symbiote wiped her memory of the place}} #{{because it's dangerous}} #{{for ooc reasons it's because i wanted to keep her development while making her indie}} #{{but i still find it funny}} #{{and i kind of did it because like. i took a page out of caligo's book}} #{{because he used to be an eridan and there are people/muses who remember him being an eridan}} #{{but he doesn't remember it}} #{{so people can still remember skylar being a citizen of night vale and working at the station}} #{{and all this other shit that happened while she was still a wtnv oc}} #{{see: marce and tom and anyone else who wants to have their muse remember that from The Old Days}} #{{but skylar won't remember any of it}} #{{because her memories have been erased and altered so that}} #{{at least in her mind}} #{{she's never even heard of night vale outside of conversations with friends from there}} #{{and i think memory wipes like that are my favorite way to go from fandom-affiliated to indie}} #ooc #{{this went on a hell of a tangent but yeah}}

[cecilspeaks]

167 - Echo

Spring reveals nature’s secret That death is reversible. Welcome to Night Vale.

The worst part is not the tall plumes of smoke. Nor the destroyed cars and buildings, nor the armed desert cult marching through the streets. It is the silence. The absence of sirens echoing across the valley. The absence of help. the absence of hope that help will happen. And now the absence even of screams.

The clan of passengers of Delta flight 18713 prowls the streets of our town, seeking those who hide, those who resist. They know there are few of us left who have not been subsumed by their leader’s commands. And those of us who do remain will be captured and eventually killed. They must know I am here, hiding, talking, resisting. They must see our radio antenna, our station sign, hear our broadcasts.

The pilot knows who I am, delights in having inhabited my mind a couple weeks go to speak his foul truth. He holds out some hope that he can re-enter my brain, squeeze it tight with his calm convincing voice. I remain alive because the pilot wants me in my job. Wants me on his side.

I hope for solution. I hope my own voice empowers those who are still free to rise up, to fight back, but so far – nothing. I no longer hope to find Amelia Anna Alfaro who was always the best at everything and who disappeared eight years ago to loo for Delta flight 18713. I no longer hope that Amelia Anna Alfaro will be found or that she will save us because she is found. She will not save us.

Amelia stands at the top step of the Night Vale City Hall. Behind her is the multi-headed, single-bodied entity that is City Council. Amelia and the City Council are both fully under the control of the pilot. Amelia Anna Alfaro found the missing passengers of flight 18713, and then was enjoined by the pilot to join them.

When the pilot makes contact with your brain, he does not speak to you at first. He does not begin with a plea, with a mission, with a request or command. He first forces you to hear the lives of his passengers, innocents who boarded Delta flight 18713 from Detroit to Albany on June 15, 2012. You hear a mother calming her child, you hear giggling teenage boys, you hear middle-aged men telling each other the same stories they have told each other for years on end. You hear about vacations and jobs and families and favorite books and unrealized dreams, you hear it all until you accept the mundane comfort and intimacy of community, until you are lulled into a willingness to hear anything – and then you hear the pilot. And you hear his message. The words of his message are about nature’s beauty. The words express loving respect that all nature is beautiful. But the message is not the words. It’s what’s encoded within them, the message is that all who are not beautiful are an affront to nature.

His power of unspoken oration, of invisible influence, allows his hatred to metastasize, to become an active assault rather than an idle grumble. It is difficult to stop his voice from entering your head. Nearly impossible. I am not able to do it on my own. Carlos sits with me still in my studio. When I talk to Carlos, I do not hear the voice of the pilot nor his passengers. Charles Rainier, the former warden of the Night Vale Asylum, went fishing to keep his mind clear. Tamika Flynn has taken to listening to the audio book of Emily St. John Mandel’s bestselling novel “Station 11”, which is narrated by Night Vale’s own Lee Marvin who, by the way, turns 32 next month. Happy early birthday, Lee, if you can hear me.

I have found that Carlos calms me, centers me, silences the echoes of 100 different people, 100 different thoughts in my head, none of which are my own. If you know what centers you, do that immediately.

The streets are quiet, Night Vale. I hope some of you can hear me. I hope some of you are staying out of sight, out of reach. If you can, come together, find each other. Perhaps we can overpower these invaders of our peace, but the pilot hides from any potential counterattack, and if we can’t stop him, can’t cut out the brain of his insurgency… I believe our hopes are lost. Our end is near.

The last hope I had stands on the top step of City Hall rallying her mindless clan on a ruthless scouring of our city. Amelia Anna Alfaro was always the best at everything, and the pilot knows that. It is why he chose her as his chief strategist, his general, his right hand.

They will push beyond Night Vale soon. To Red Mesa and Pine Cliff, and to the rest of the state, and beyond.

More people are brought to City Hall as I speak, and Amelia flanked by Doug Biondi delivers their sentence, their punishment for resistance. Their fate for lacking beauty in the eyes of a truly hateful man. Their sentence is to be tied together and held in the rock garden lining the outer lawn of City Hall. Once every person in Night Vale has been gathered in one place, the pilot will make one last attempt to overtake our minds as a group, to grow his army tenfold. He may succeed with some and the remainder – will be executed.

The pilot believes in his own specific definition of beauty. He believes those who fail to be good enough specimens of nature, of humanity, must be removed from the genetic pool. Every few hours, another group of prisoners crouches before Amelia, and another group receives immediate conviction.

As Amelia stands in judgment before the most recently indicted, she pauses. One of the captured is standing in defiance. In response to this rebellious act, Doug Biondi, still wearing his asylum-issued coveralls, raises a handmade curved blade, but Amelia stops him. The one standing is Yvette Alfaro. It is Amelia’s mother. She begs Amelia to recognize her own family and to have mercy. But Amelia’s eyes show no hint of relenting. Yvette tells Amelia she always loved her, was always proud of her, but that her motherly pride was sometimes a selfish price. “You were a story I wrote for myself to tell my friends,” Yvette says contritely. “I did not let you tell your own story. I should have been proud of you for what you achieved, for yourself. Happy for your happiness. But I saw you as a way to better me. I’m sorry, Amelia,” Yvette tells her only child, and then hands Amelia a note. “Please read this. It’s all I ask that you do for your mother. Read what I wrote,” Yvette says. Without even glancing at the paper, Amelia crumples it into a ball, her face reddens, and her eyes blacken, as she pushes her mother back down to her knees. With a nod of Amelia’s head, the brainwashed and ever growing clan of flight 18713 ties up the new prisoners and pushes them into the rock garden, until every remaining person in town has been drawn together for the pilot. And the last who resist his voice will be destroyed. A rotten harvest to be composted for a more promising crop.

If you can hear my voice, you are one of the last left. We cannot see the pilot, but he can see us, and it is not long until his minions are here with me, or there with you, Night Vale. We are the last to be reaped, the last to be gathered.

They stalk outside my studio now! Climbing the walls, smashing in windows, knocking down doors. I-I can hear them in the hallways behind me. Carlos is barring the door to the studio, but I know it will not hold! Carlos, do as you promised and run! I will stay focused, I will keep my head safe, I will take us all To the weather!

[“The Stolen Century” by Ellen Beizer: http://ellenclairebeizer.com]

I am captured, Night Vale. So is Carlos. I can’t see where they took him, so I keep my eyes closed and imagine Carlos’ face.  I keep talking to this image of Carlos to protect my thoughts from the pilot’s voice. The ragged, empty-minded clan of flight 18713 pushes me into a larger group of captives. I still do not see Carlos, but I see the violent hungry faces of those under the pilot’s control. I see two teenage boys who are secretly mad for each other. I see a middle-aged man who either went to New Orleans or heard about New Orleans so much that he might as well have gone. I see the people who inhabited my mind. Whose voices were used to hypnotize me, to lay the psychological groundwork for the pilot. And I hear them. I hear their voices coming from their mouths, live, in real time. But I hear them in my head too! Separate from their bodies. And I think of Carlos again, trying to stop the echoes, [very quietly] return to silence and clarity.

They lead our group. I with my head down, eyes closed, quietly conversing with an imaginary Carlos, to the steps of City Hall. To the feet of the ruthless Amelia Anna Alfaro. Ohh, [quietly] but she’s not ruthless. She is compromised. I do not know how to convince her of this, if her own mother could not. Even still immediately we are denounced as resistors and tied up with the other uncooperative prisoners, wriggling uselessly in their bindings along the rock garden. The last of those who refused to join the 18713 have been gathered together. Amelia knows she has quickly and thoroughly sorted out entire town into the recruited and the renounced. She was always the best at everything.

At this moment, the pilot emerges from the front doors of City Hall. Amelia and the rest of the 18713 look on him with awe. And it occurs to me they have never seen him in person. Only heard his voice. The enormity of his legend is evidence in the gaping maw and sparkling dark eyes of Amelia Anna Alfaro. The pilot does not visibly speak, yet I can hear him in my head. Each of us can her a personalized appeal from him in our minds.

[deep creepy voice] “Cecillll,” he says to me. “You have a beautiful voice. Think of how much beauty we can share together. Think of your voice, carried miles through the air like dandelion seeds. Spreading our message of nature’s true beauty to everyone in the desert. To everyone beyonddd the desert. You are chosennn Cecillllll. Beeeeeee. My. Voiccccce.”

I think of Carlos’ face. I say aloud to my imagined Carlos: the first time you called me, I knew you liked me. Even though you avoided my flirting. I thought you were trying to be professional, Carlos, playing ignorant, but you weren’t. you were shy. You didn’t know how to ask. And I knew I loved you.

My mind remains clear as I talk, but I see several of the remainders sturgling to ignore the pilot’s voice permeating their every thought. A few lose the fight and join his clan. He is too far from me, too far from any o the rest of us to reach him, to subdue him, to kill him, to get back my mind, to get back my town, to get back my Carlos.

When the pilot’s final pleas and patience expire, he walks down the paved path and stands next to Amelia Anna Alfaro. Then he says, for the first time using his mouth: “None of them are beautiful! None of them are nature! None of them can live!” Amelia stares at him like a star struck fan in the presence of a Hollywood celebrity. Doug Biondi, next to her, holds up his crooked blade. The angel of death wears electric blue coveralls, and the 18713 raise their weapons too, glaring at the last of us tied up a the rock garden. I search in vain for Carlos one last time, battling the sick truth that we are born and we will die alone. And Amelia Anna Alfaro raises her hand. Inside her hand is a ball of paper. Seeming confused about how it got there, she unfurls it. Smoothing out the wrinkles with her fingers, she examines the paper. There is a long silence. “Should I do it or what? Amelia?” Doug Biondi asks, anxious to get to the killing part. I now see what Amelia sees. I cannot read what is written on the paper, but I know what is there. They’re words from her mother, written in code. In a puzzle. The one place Amelia’s mind can hide from the voices, from the voice of the pilot, is in puzzles. Amelia says: “It is my responsibility to destroy that which is not beautiful. Give me the blade, Doug.” Doug, reluctantly, does so. Still staring at the paper, she pulls the blade behind her shoulder and says: “You come from nowhere, and that is where you shall return.” She splashes the blade into the pilot’s throat. I see his hands clutch at his neck. I see Doug Biondi lunge for Amelia, to protect his beloved leader, but as his arms crash down onto her shoulders, he relents. Doug’s mind is free now too.

I see the pilot convulse one final time. I see the emancipated Amelia run toward her mother. Other members of the 18713 surrounding us drop their weapons, their eyes vacant and lips white. The rush of mental agency is blinding them, staggering them. One of them cuts the ropes from my hands. I help free the others, one by one, still searching for Carlos and then – I find him. He is in the very back, the last of the last of Night Vale. Those who are free are running or embracing or helping those who are still bound or drunk with confusion, and on the ground where Amelia stood moments before, I find the wrinkled note from mother to daughter. It is a series of numbers, not words. I show it to Carlos. “A cryptogram puzzle,” he says. “I love those.” I ask him if he can solve it. He screws up his face. “We should get out of here first,” he says. “Please,” I say. He looks at it for a couple of minutes, until finally he says: “It’s a basic alphanumeric code. It reads: Amelia, I am proud of you, no. matter. what.”

Carlos and I hold each other through the town. Passing two teenage boys dressed in scraps of airplane upholstery, gripping tightly each other’s faces. We help a lost toddler find his parents. We clear broken glass from streets. We walk home.

We shade our eyes from the setting sunset, which kindles through a hilltop cliff. We talk nonstop about today, about tomorrow, about yesterday, about every possible moment, just talking and talking, because we almost lost our talk forever. We do not hear the returning echo of sirens across the valley. We do not hear anything but ourselves.

Stay tuned. Next. For a silence that is all your own.

Good night, Night Vale … Good night.  

Today’s proverb: Did you know the Germans have 31 different words for beer? Well they don’t, that’s wrong, you’re wrong

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv transcripts #episode 167 #echo #i apologize for the long delay #but i couldn't load the post form for some reason

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers pt28: Goodbye

Day six went by like a breeze; it was relatively quiet. The people who wanted to spend time with each other did and those who wanted to be left alone kept to themselves. Huntsman made their preparations for the long journey. The moment of truth is almost here; it’s the night of the seventh day.....

[Schnee Manor]

Weiss:*staring at the door*.......

Whitley:You heading out?

Weiss:Yeah, don’t wanna be late for tomorrow. *turns around* I’m gonna miss you. Take care of yourself okay. I’ll be back in no time flat.

Whitley:Pfft next time I see you I might be married with kids.

Weiss:That would be a nice surprise. Somebody in this family has to have kids.

Whitley:You still have plenty of time for love and stuff. Neo was really thankful for you giving her a ride home.

Weiss:*red* Not sure what you’re implying but I’m off! *turns back around*

Before she grabs the handle the door opens itself. Standing in front of the two siblings is their loving older one Winter. She’s gotten a bit up there in years but doesn’t look much different then their mom used to. White jeans and black sweaters have been her go to attire ever since she’s retired.

Winter:Hello dear sister. You didn’t think we’d just let you go off to the airship alone did you?

Whitley:*grabbing his jacket* Let’s walk there and send you off like a proper family.

Weiss:Walk? That’ll take like an hour.

Whitley and Winter:Exactly *smiles*

Weiss:.....heh *smiles* let’s go then.

[Menagerie, dockside]

Waves crash along the sand and pier as a decent sized boat makes its way to the island. The Frost family, Blake, Sun, and Ilia wait patiently for it to arrive. Jael tries to have a stern face but isn’t doing well keeping up the act; she’s trembling slightly. Her mind was is about to wonder when a hand on her back makes her jump a bit.

Dory:Sup dork, long time no see.

Jael:Dory? What are you doing here?

Dory:Lifeguard training obviously. You owe me a new whistle by the way. What’s up with everyone on the pier; going on a trip or something like that? *looking around*

Jael:Uhhh something like that. *obstucting her view* lots of boring details and stuff.

Dory:Haha, are you trying to stop me from seeing something? I’m taller than you so that’s not gonna- *spots man in a cloak*......is that?

Adam:Hm? *turns around*.......

Dory:*gasp*.......so he is alive. I knew he was your dad but....

Jacquelyn:*whispering* voice down gill for brains!

Dory:Right.... sorry

Adam walks over to Jael’s sharky friend and takes a knee. He can tell she’s a bit stiff which is to be expected. Not everyday you get to meet the most dangerous man on Remnant after all.

Adam:Hello, you must be Dory. Jael talks a decent bit about you.

Jael:*red* Dad.......

Dory:Sh...she does? Well I guess that makes since. I usually am the one giving her the prescriptions she needs. Whenever I’m around though all she talks about is you.

Adam:Is that so? That’s a bit risky.

Jael:*avoiding eye contact*

Dory:I...I haven’t told a soul about the things she’s told me. Jael has a hard enough time as it is. I’d hate to make it worse for her; I care about her.

Everyone:*smiles*

Jael:*bright red* Geez Dory. *hides face*

Adam:I believe you. *pats her head and smiles* thanks for being so good to my daughter.

Dory:*eyes widened* Of...of course sir.

Ilia:Boat is here.

Everyone starts making their way on board as as the two teens hang back for a couple seconds. Dory’s face left awe struck.

Dory:Jael your dad seems so cool!!!!

Jael:That’s because he is pretty cool. Do try your best to keep this under wraps okay?

Dory:No sweat, nothing catches me off guard. Safe journey.

Jael:Thanks.........hey?

Dory:What’s u- *kissed on the cheek*

Jael:Bye! *floats to the boat*

Dory:*red*Bye.......

Adam:She seems nice.

Jael:*nods* she’s a handful but I know nobody like her. It’s actually-

Adam:Jael?

Jael:Woah....*stumbles a bit*

Blake:You okay over there?

Jael:Yeah I think I just....just. *falls down*

Sienna:Jael! what’s wrong!?

Jael:I don’t know! Everything is just a bit....dizzy. *closes her eyes* it feels like the floor is moving.

Sun:Yeah we’re on a boa-

Everyone:.........(Sea sickness......)

Jael:Ugh, of course the first time I’m finally on a boat would be like this. Anyone have medicine for it?

Sun:Sorry kiddo, no dice.

Jael:Well this night just keeps getting better...

Jacquelyn:Float sweetie.

Jael:.... *floats* No floor no sickness. Guess I’ll be floating the whole time. Sigh.....perfect.

[Vale]

Nora:*laying in the bed* Ren you wake?

Ren:Yeah *sits up* can’t sleep.

Nora:Me either, you think Tenzen is awake?

Ren:Probably, wanna go find out?

Nora:You know me so well.

Quietly they get out of bed and make their way to his room to notice he’s not in it. As they walk down the stairs a blue light becomes visible. The tv is on as their son sits in front of it watching old dance videos. He hears them get closer but doesn’t bother to turn around; instead he makes room on the couch as they comfortably watch his first real dance competition.

Tenzen:I lost this one.

Nora:I remember it will. When the results came in you were crushed. For a moment I thought this was gonna be the last time you danced.

Tenzen:I almost did until you both took me out for ice cream. Told me that I’m still first place to you guys.

Ren:Ugh we were such cheesy parents.

Tenzen:Super cheesy, but it kept me going. You told me what I needed to hear. I......I’m gonna miss you guys.

Nora:We’ll miss you too *hugs him*

Ren:Not a day will go by when we won’t be thinking about you. *hugs him*

Renora:No matter what, you’ll be first place in our hearts.

Tenzen:.........

Nothing left to say, he couldn’t find any words. So he just held them close and closed his eyes; fighting whatever tears dared try to show up.

[Jaune’s Place]

Yujin lays on her bed with her head just off the edge. Unbeknownst to her there’s not a single person sleeping either. The weight of the week in full effect tonight. She’s kept her promise to her father and Tenzen by eating again, but tonight she found it hard to eat much. All her meals ended up half eaten, and going outside lasted only an hour. The strides she took quickly began doing the bare minimum. It wouldn’t stay like this. Soon it would be over. Soon conversations about her mother would return to the usual awkward and distant topic she was used to.

Yujin:(Tomorrow is the day they’ll leave. An entire week of avoiding her complete. Not like there was much left I had to say to her. If I go to sleep I just might wake up and she’s go-)

*knock knock knock*

........

Yujin:.........*heart nearly stops*

Yang:Yujin are you awake? I know it’s late but I thought I’d give it a shot.

..........

Hesitantly Yang grabs the door knob just as frantic foot step can be heard on the other side and the sound of a click. The door has been locked to her dismay but she quickly shrugged it off. It was expected in hindsight. On the other side Yujin simply sits up against the door not making a sound. Her legs bend as she begins hugging her knees.

Yang:That’s fine, I just wanted to know if you were still up. We don’t have to see each other; you don’t even have to respond to what I’m saying. *sits against the door* Listen.....I’m sorry this is probably the worst week of your life. It bumse out we didn’t spend time together but I understand. You hate me and I kinda hate myself too because of all this.

Yujin:.....

Yang:On the way coming home my mind was so fixated about seeing you and Jaune again. I can’t tell you how excited I was to finally see how beautiful and strong my little girl had become. *tearing up* You’ve turned out better than in my wildest dreams. I kept telling you how we were going to finally be together. If I would’ve known how the next few days would’ve turned out I would’ve never gotten your hopes up; I wouldn’t tease you by coming home like this. But I did come home, and tomorrow I gotta go.

Yujin:*quivering* (I know that already damnit. Why do you feel the need to tell me again? You’re leaving and there was no way to stop you).......

Yang:For the past week I’ve been working on something with Ruby and your dad.*hold a box* I have it with me right now; it’s for you. There’s nothing I could give that will make anything about this feel okay but maybe....just maybe.... *sniffling* You’ll see just how much I love you. *tears run down her face* I love you so much Yujin it hurts. I’m always going to love you. I....can’t believe that I hurt you like this; my own daughter.

Her sobs are clearly heard through the door. Try as she might, Yujin can’t say anything. Her voice won’t come out even with her mouth open. Every muscle in her body paralyzed with various feelings she can’t begin to make sense while all she does is listen. Not even a single tear sheds this time; crying has become so eas to her but right now there’s nothing. She can’t bring herself to let anything show. A few more minutes pass by before the sound of Yang’s tears finally stop.

Yang:Sorry, lost my composure. Well....I’ll be heading out. Tomorrow the train leaves at 10 if you feel like showing up. I’ll leave your gift by the door. *stands up*.........

..........

Yang:Goodbye....*walks away*

Creaking wood floors tell Yujin she’s actually leaving. Still she doesn’t make a move at all. Emptiness isn’t a good word to describe what is destroying her inside. Not feeling anything is was emptiness would be but she clearly feels something. It hurts, aches, everything about it makes her feel disgusting. This feeling kept happening anytime she thought of her mom and it drove her up a wall. Why couldn’t she just hate her? What feels so wrong about this situation. All those days of pondering it and she still had no answer. For the rest of the night she just sat there, alone and tortured by the feeling.

#rwby #rwby lasting embers #yujin xiao long #lie tenzen #jael frost #jacquelyn frost #sienna frost #adam taurus #nora valkryie #lie ren #renora #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #whitley schnee #winter schnee #schneeblings #rwby dragonslayer #blake belladonna #sun wukong #rwby blacksun

[ask-the-rose-schnees]

"Little Red"

-mafia godmothers!au snipet #1-

(Warning: Graphic depiction of violence)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

City of Remnant, Vale district. 9:00 pm. A tall red headed man carrying a cane, followed by a tiny girl with long wavy hair of pink and brown, walking down the darkened streets. Roman Torchwick, the biggest crime boss in all of Vale and his trusty partner and bodyguard Neopolitan. The two had a "business" meeting scheduled for tonight, but said meeting was taking place dangerously close to his biggest rival's territory. The Belladonnas. Therefore, Roman decided it would be wise to give a call to his good old "friend", Weiss Schnee, to hire some extra "help".

The two were to meet this new hire tonight, they continued walking for a little while before stoping in front of a quiet little cafe in a backstreet. ("Is this really the place?") Neo signed at Roman in sign language with a raised eyebrow. "Yep. The ice queen told me the person she'd send us specifically requested to meet up here." The tall redhead huffed while gesturing at the small building. He opens the door. "Ladies first!" Neo rolled her eyes at the cheesy line, but flashed her dum-dum a smirk all the same as they both enter the cafe.

The place wasn't terribly packed, but still surprisingly full for this late at night. They were ten or so minutes early, so the melon hat donning duo decided to order something. Roman, a small coffee with two milk, two sugar and Neo a cappuccino with a pink glaced donut. The two sat down and began chatting. Or rather, Roman talked and Neo passively listened, seeing as she had her hands occupied by her sugary treat. "I sure hope Schnee sent us someone decent this time." He sighed, leaning back into his seat. "First that drunk jackass Qrow, then that crazed pyromaniac Cinder. Its almost as if every high ranking members in the Schnee family are either mentaly unstable or incompetent!" He said, while lighting himself a cigar. "And don't even get me started on that gingerheaded maniac with the grenade launcher!" He complained, while mashing his index against the table. Neo, having finished her donut finally replies: ("If you hate them so much then why don't we just jump ship?") "Because I don't want my testicles impaled at the tip of Schnee's rapier!" Roman retorted. "Also I don't hate them. I just hate working with them." He explained.

They're casual banter continued for a couple minutes, until they heard the cashier call out an order that made both their stomach sink. "One large moka with extra sugar and two double chocolate chip cookies!" Roman and Neo looked each other in the eyes. There was only one person that they knew of that could ever ingest such a sickening amount of sugar. Neo looked past Roman to see who was at the counter, her crunching face was all Roman needed to confirm his fears. (Please don't be who I think it is. Please don't be who I think it is!) He though to himself. Roman took a deep breath, then turned around on his chair. "Oh fuck my life." He muttered quietly.

Silver eyes.

Gothic lolita dress.

And the ever present hooded red cape.

Ruby Rose.

Weiss Schnee's bodyguard and favorite attack dog. A relatively recent arrival in the Schnee family, but already known by many names, the reaper, the collector, the blood rose. But to Roman, she was known as: "Little Red!" Roman called out with a nervous chuckle. "Its SO good to see you!" He continued with gritted teeth, while opening his arms. "Torchwick! Neo!" Ruby replied as she bounced over and put her order down on their table. "OOOOOOH I'm so happy to see you twooooooo!" She exclaimed as she exchanged hugs and cheek kisses with the both of them before sitting down. Now. From an outside view this girl seems rather cute and harmless right? On one hand she's cheerful, affectionate and as a love for milk and sweets. Cute. But on the other hand you've got: an obssession with weapons, a very large knife collection and a disturbing affinity with violence. Not so cute anymore. This girl is as sweet as she is dangerous. Two sides of the same messed up, contradictory coin. And THAT. Was the girl Torchwick and Neo had to work with. "Sooooooo." Ruby spoke up, tilting her head.

"I was told you two had a job for me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Ruby had been filled in, the three headed out and made their way to the meeting point. They took a turn into a dark alley, at which point a butterfly knife was suddenly in Ruby's hand. Causing Roman to jump a little and Neo to instinctively move in between him and Ruby. (When did she even pull that out!?) Roman though. The short girl in red just stopped and stared at them with a blank look for a bit, all while she flicked the knife to and fro. Openning and closing.

*click* *click* *click*

She took a moment to take in their unnerved expressions. Before smiling and asking in an innocent tone. "Are you guys okay?" Roman knew the girl liked to fidle with her knife, but the sight of her with a sharp object in her hand will never not but him on edge. "Y-yeah. I'm fine!" He said, quickly regaining his compossure. They then continued walking down the alleyway for a bit, Ruby continuing to open and close that knife of her's.

*click* *click* *click*

To Neo, a connoisseur of knifes and other sharp objects herself. She found the sound rather relaxing. But she also knew it made her dum-dum nervous. So Neo struck up a conversation to lighten up the atmosphere. ("So, is this a new one?") Neo signed at Ruby, pointing at the butterfly knife. "Hmm? Oh naaaah! Its the same old one I always have on me! Though I did get a really really nice looking dagger at an auction last week! Its got really cool engravings on it and-" Ruby continued to ramble on, never stopping the flicking of her knife, as Neo occassionally replied in sign language. The ceaseless chatting somehow managed to calm Roman down a bit. Until...

The three of them stopped. Dead in their tracks. Ruby stopped flicking her knife and put it away in her pocket.

Five men had appeared in front of them from around the corner. Armed with pistols and metal pipes, Belladonna thugs. Then, out of a door on the side of the alley came three other men. One much bigger them the others, weilding a broadaxe, a rogue huntsmen. "Took you guys long enough!" Torchwick spoke up in a cocky tone. "I was almost getting bored." He continued while throwing away the butt of his old cigar and lighting up a new one. The leader of the thugs walks a couple steps foward. "Bold words from someone who's surrounded and outnumbered!" The thug leader barked. "Sooo quantity over quality huh? Cute." Ruby replied dryly, her smile gone. "Huh? You trying to say something bitch!?" The thug leader spat out in a threatening manner. Roman pulls a deep puff of his cigar before speaking up. "What she's trying to say is, you're all going to die. Neo? Red? If you would."

As soon as Roman finished his sentence, the rose pulled out her torn, her scythe Crescent Rose. Then, in a flurry of rose petals, she dashed straight trough two of the five thugs in front of her, beheading one and cutting the other in half at the waist, blood gushing out of them. The three remaining thugs turned around to find Ruby behind them. Neo took this opportunity to stab one in the back, then another in the throat as he turned around. While all this was happening Roman turned to face the big guy and his two cohorts. Roman was never a big fan of fighting, thats what he has Neo around for. But alas! Getting your own hands dirty is inevitable in this career. The large thug moved towards the smug cane weilding man in front of him and took a downward swing, a very slow and predictable downward swing. Roman simply dodged to the side and retaliated by hitting the rogue huntsmen in the side of the knee. The knee produced a wet cracking sound at the impact of the metal cane causing the large thug to fall and double over in pain, much to Roman's surprise. (No aura? Looks like this is gonna be easier then I thought!) Once realising that what he saw as the biggest threat was not even a threat at all, he promptly pressed the tip of his cane onto the brute's head and pulled the trigger, blasting blood all over the concrete. The other two thugs looked at each other and started running away, Roman quickly shot one in the back and pulled the other one in with the grapple side of his cane. He wasn't going to kill this one...oh no. Roman casually slaps the weapon out of the thug's hand, then wraps his arm tightly around his shoulder. And brought him towards his two acolytes. Neo, standing amongst the dead thugs, casually wiping the blood of her blade and Ruby, with a blank expression and sharp eyes, slowly walking in circles around the terrified leader of the gang whose knees were both shot out, while dragging the tip of her scythe's bloodied blade across the ground, causing sparks to fly out. Like a shark circling its prey.

Truth be told. Ruby's job wasn't to protect Roman, it was to help him set an example. "Hey friend. You want to live right?" The crime boss gently wispered to the trembling thug, who merely knoded in response. "Alright. Then I just need you to tell miss Belladonna something for me." He said before giving Ruby a knod. To that signal, Ruby raised her scythe in the air, then swung it down sideways, slicing the thug leader's legs clean off. To which the man let out a blood curdling scream. Ruby then slowly wiped the blood off of Crescent Rose before putting it away. Then back out came the butterfly knife.

*click* *click* *click*

She flicked it absentmindedly while calmly observing the man whose legs she just cut off, he was trying to crawl away crying and panicking, but Ruby didn't stop him. She just started slowly walking circles around him again, occassionsly kicking at his open wounds just to see his reaction. Like a cat toying with at bug. This went on for one or two minutes.

*click* *click* *click*

Then the clicking of the knife stopped.

Ruby kicked the man onto his back and straddled him. Then locked her dark, empty silver eyes with his terrified, tear filled ones. Gently, she put her knife to his throat and slowly slit it open. Never breaking eye contact. She watched as life quickly drained from the man's eyes.

Then, she slowly stood up. She turned to her left to face Roman, who made sure the surviving thug could see everything very clearly. She stared at the thug with something resembling a smirk. Then the knife started to click once again.

*click* *click* *click*

"See that friend?" Roman said in a soft tone. "I want you to tell your boss everything you just saw." He followed in a more threatening voice. "I want you. To tell her. That THIS, is what happens when you mess with us. Capiche?" The thug knoded frantically, while trembling like a leaf. "Good." Roman said before letting go of the thug. "Run along now! I've got other things to attend to!" He says dismissively. For a moment the thug's legs couldn't move, he was petrified by fear, like a deer in the headlights. He couldn't take his eyes off the bloodied silver eyed girl in front of him. Girl whose subtle smirk had turned into a genuine smile. One of innocence and purity, completely out of place on the face of someone covered in the blood of people she just killed. It wasn't until Ruby pulled out Crescent Rose and shot at his feet that the thug started running. And running and running. Still earing the clicking of that damn knife echoing through the alleys.

*click*

*click*

*click*

*click*

*click*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruby watched intently as the man ran away. Continuing to flick her bloodied knife until the sound of echoing footsteps died down.

Once everything turned quiet. She cleaned her knife and put it away once again, then stretched herself. "Hrrrrmmmm!" "I dunno about you guys but I'm pooped!" She said turning around to face Torchwick and Neo. "You guys don't need me for the actual meeting right?" Ruby said, tillting her head to the side. (The way this girl can just snap back to her usual cheerful self so quickly will never stop creeping me out...) Roman though to himself. "Nah. Your job here is done Red! You can run along now!" Roman replied as he passed some wet wipes to Ruby, which she used to clean her face and hands with. "Alright then! See yaaaaa!" The girl said as she ran off. "Oh! Remind me to treat you to some icecream for this!" Roman called out. "YAAAAAAAAAY!" Ruby exclaimed from the distance before disapearing around a corner.

"This girl just keeps getting weirder!" Roman complained, as Neo let out a silent chuckle.

#rwby #ruby rose #roman torchwick #neopolitan #mafia godmothers!au

[halfofwhatisayismeaningless]

Drugs. // Joe Mazzello. (Requested)

Requested by @mrsmazzello: Joe saving you from a creep in a club? Angsty but ends in fluff maybe (a creep approached me yesterday and it was ummm unpleasant)

A/N: After a lot of time without writing I’m here with this request. You know my request box OPEN.

Words: 1.350.

Warnings: rape. Maybe if you have been in a situation near rape you shouldn’t read this.

"Who is going?" Joe asked while walking you to the door.

"I think that all of them. To a new place that someone recommended to Olivia."

"Okay, have a good time." You looked at yourself in the mirror by the side of the door of Joe's house

"Thank you for spending the night with me."

"A lot of more times, that's what friends are for." He hugged you. "If you need anything you know I'm a phone call away."

"I know. Thank you, Joe, for everything." You heard the door closing on your back. 

"Really, Olivia, why do you know this place?"

"Do you remember that guy I met the other day in the bar near my house?" We nodded. "He told me about it."

The five of us stared at the outside of the place. Apparently it was a disco, but it didn't looked good at all. Even so we went to the queue. 

"So, you've been with Joe?" You nodded. "And nothing?"

"Nothing at all."

"But you'd like to?"

"Of course I'd like to. I really like him, more than anyone before. But I don't think is reciprocal."

“I don't know, (Y/N), I've seen how he looks at you, I think he's really into you. But I could ask Rami…”

That's when the conversation ended, because it was our turn to go inside the place. If outside didn't look good, inside was even worse. But there was music, and alcohol. You went to the bar for your drinks. Then, while you were dancing, some guys approached to you and your friends.

"And what's your name, beautiful?"

"(Y/N), what about you?"

"Jake."

You kept dancing, you didn't like it there, those guys didn't seem nice, that place didn't seem nice. You liked Joe, and you liked his home. 

Suddenly you felt a weird headache, while the boy grabbed you by the hip and tried to kiss you. You pushed him, with less strength that you normally had. You felt that the boy tried to hold your hand to get near you. You approached to Lucy, that was by your side and grabbed her arm, taking her to the bathroom. She looked at you, worried.

"(Y/N), what is going on? are you okay?"

"I'm feeling terrible." you got your mobile out of your purse. You hated the fact that you needed to call him, but in that moment, he was the only person that appeared on your head.

"(Y/N)?"

"Joe, I'm where I told you earlier."

"What is going on? Your voice sounds weird, are you drunk?"

"I don't know what is going on, I think someone put something in my drink." You felt that the words were hard to say. Suddenly, everything started moving. You only remembered little fragments of the next events.

"¿Y/N? ¡Y/N!"

"Joe, please, come here, I don't what is wrong with her."

"(Y/N), I'm Lucy, say something"

"Drink water, please."

"(Y/N) I'm Joe, I just called 911, they're coming."

You felt his embrace, while you felt the vomit running through your throat. You don't know if you threw up or, if you did, there.

Suddenly, more unknown voices appeared. They said something about your blood preasure, your breathe. You felt a lot of heaviness on your eyes. And the last thing your brain could see was Joe's hand holding yours.

You opened your eyes, the room was dark, one only light on, over your head. You looked through the window, it was starting to dawn. You smelt the ambient, a hospital. What happened? A boy, and Lucy in the bathroom, and Joe.

Joe?

You saw a masculine figure, looking through the window, standing. Was that Joe? Yes, of course he was, that hair, that body, they were unmistakable.

"Joe." He turned around,

"(Y/N), they told me you would be up soon. How are you?"

"I don't really know, I'm confused, my head hurts. What happened?"

"You called me at three am, more or less, Lucy was there with you. She didn't knew what was going on. When I arrived you were awake, but you didn't answer, you just hold my hand and hugged me." You felt Joe's eyes red.

"Are you okay, Joe? Your eyes look red." Suddenly Joe hugged you very strong, more than he had before.

"(Y/N) when I saw you there I thought I would lose you, I hadn't never been that scared." He ended his embrace, you put your hand on his cheek, cleaning up the tears.

"Joe, I'm fine, I promise." You didn't know why but you both were whispering, as if the fact that you were in love with each other was a secret. Joe put his nose on yours, and made everlasting the path between his mouth to yours, but he walked that path. You closed your eyes and let your attention on his mouth, on his tongue on yours.

"I like you so so much, (Y/N)"

"And I like you, Joe." You two separated when you heard the hospital room door opening. A nurse walked in.

"Good morning, (Y/N). Are you feeling better?"

"A bit better, yes." You said, smiling with complicity to Joe

"The doctor will come to see you in a while, to give you the blood exam results and see if you can go home. We've made you a stomach wash and it looks like you are getting better." she checked your serum bag. "There are a lot of friends outside but neither the doctor or your boyfriend" said pointing out Joe "wanted them to come before you woke up."

"Thank you very much, now my boyfriend will go out to tell them that they can come in." The nurse walked away. You looked at Joe, smiling. "My boyfriend?"

"If I didn't tell them that, they wouldn't let me in." Joe approached smiling.

"I like the name, we could name us that."

"Really?"

"Of course really." You shared one more kiss. You looked his white shirt, it had a yellow mark. "Please, tell me that's not my vomit."

"I'm sad to tell you, but yes." he smiled.

"I'm so sorry." You sighed. "Tell them to come in, please."

You saw your four friends and Rami coming in. Olivia hugged you first, with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, we shouldn't have gone to that place."

"Olivia, chill out, I'm fine, it could happen to anyone. We should be happy that I realised on time, it could have been worse." You felt Joe's hand hold yours on the other side of the bed, you bet he was thinking about the other possible endings of the story. 

While your friends were distributed around the room you found Rami's look going from you hand holding Joe's, to your eyes. He smile with complicity and you returned it back. "Guys, I'm sure you'll be tired, it's late, go home."

They smiled at you, accepting your request. After all were gone, except Joe, you slept for a while.

"(Y/N), (Y/N), the doctor's here with the results." Joe whispered. You scratched your eyes, trying to eliminate the slumber.

"I'm sorry, doctor."

"It's fine, (Y/N). I have the results. Effectively, someone put something on your drink. Do you have any idea of who could do it?"

"Well, there was a boy that approached, he said his name was Jake. The rest of the time I was with my friends."

"(Y/N), it's a drug that, as you could check, it lets you completely knocked out. It is used by rapist. And even though it is very difficult to find the one that made you this, my recommendation is that you report this incident to the police." you nodded. "Everything else it's fine, you can go home whenever you feel ready."

"Thank you very much doctor." Joe said. When the doctor closed the door Joe climb up to the hospital bed, crying and hugging you. "Thank goodness that you realised on time." You nodded, with the eyes full of tears. "(Y/N) when you were lying there on the bathroom floor, you hold my hand and pressed it a bit." he said holding your hand. "That's when I realised that I don't wanna be more time without telling you my feelings for you. I don't care that you don't feel the same, I have to tell you."

"Then it's good that I feel the exact same as you." you said, giving him a kiss.

[[[[[[[[[[[[[[

SPANISH VERSION.

- ¿Quiénes vais? – preguntó Joe acompañándote a la puerta.

- Creo que todas. A un sitio nuevo que han recomendado a Olivia.

- Vale, pasadlo bien. – Te miraste en el espejo que quedaba al lado de la puerta de la casa de Joe.

- Gracias por pasar la tarde conmigo.

- Muchas veces más, para eso estamos los amigos. – te abrazó. – Si necesitas cualquier cosa ya sabes que estoy a una llamada de distancia.

- Lo sé, gracias Joe, por todo. – oíste la puerta cerrarse a tu espalda.

 - En serio, Olivia, ¿de qué conoces este sitio?

- ¿Os acordáis el chico que conocí el otro día en el bar que está al lado de mi casa? – nosotras asentimos. - Me lo recomendó él.

Las cinco nos quedamos mirando al exterior del local. Al parecer era una discoteca, pero no tenía la mejor pinta del mundo. Aun así, os pusisteis en la cola.

- Entonces, ¿has estado con Joe? – pregunto Lucy, tú asentiste. – Y ¿nada?

- Nada de nada.

- Pero ¿te gustaría?

- Claro que me gustaría. Me gusta de verdad, mucho más de lo que me ha gustado nadie, nunca. Pero no creo que sea mutuo.

- No se, (Y/N), yo he visto como te mira, yo creo que si le gustas. Pero puedo preguntar a Rami…

Ahí se acabó la conversación, porque nos tocaba entrar al local, y si fuera tenía mala pinta, por dentro era aún peor. Pero había música, y alcohol. Os acercasteis a la barra a pedir vuestras copas. Al rato, mientras estabais bailando se os acercaron unos chicos.

- ¿Y tú como te llamas, preciosa?

- (Y/N) ¿y tú?

- Jake.

Seguisteis un rato bailando, ni siquiera te apetecía estar allí, esos chicos no te gustaban, ese sitio no te gustaba. Te gustaba Joe, y te gustaba su casa. De repente empezaste a notar un extraño dolor de cabeza, mientras el chico te agarraba de la cadera y se acercaba a besarte. Le empujaste, con menos fuerza de la que normalmente. Notaste que el chico intentaba coger tu mano para acercarse a ti. Te acercaste a Lucy, que estaba a tu lado y le cogiste del brazo, llevándola hacia el baño. Ella te miró, preocupada.

- (Y/N), ¿qué pasa? ¿estás bien?

- Me encuentro muy mal. – sacaste tú móvil del bolso. Odiabas tener que llamarle, pero en ese momento era en la única persona en la que podías pensar.

- (Y/N)

- Joe, estoy donde te he dicho.

- ¿Qué pasa (Y/N)? Te noto la voz rara, ¿estás borracha?

- No sé que pasa. Creo que me han echado algo en la bebida. – notaste como cada vez arrastrabas más las palabras, como se hacía cada vez más difícil vocalizar. De repente sentiste todo dar vueltas. Sólo recuerdas pequeños fragmentos de lo que pasó posteriormente.

“¿(Y/N)? ¡(Y/N)!”

“Joe, ven por favor, no sé qué le pasa.”

“(Y/N), soy Lucy, dime algo.”

“Bebe un poco de agua.”

“(Y/N), soy Joe, acabo de llamar a una ambulancia, ya vienen.”

Notaste como te abrazaba, a la vez que sentiste el vomito subir por la garganta. No sabes si llegaste a vomitar y si lo hiciste, donde.

De repente aparecieron varias voces, desconocidas. Decían cosas sobre tú tensión, tu respiración. Notaste muchísimo peso en tus ojos. Lo último que tu cerebro pudo captar fue la mano de Joe rodeando la tuya.

 Conseguiste abrir los ojos, la habitación estaba en penumbra, una única luz encendida, encima de ti. Miraste hacia la ventana, comenzaba a amanecer. Oliste el ambiente, un hospital. ¿Qué había pasado? Un chico, y Lucy en el baño y Joe.

¿Joe?

Viste una figura masculina, mirando hacia la ventana, de pie. ¿Era Joe? Claro que lo era, ese pelo, ese cuerpo, eran inconfundibles.

“Joe.” El chico se dio la vuelta.

“(Y/N), dijeron que despertarías pronto. ¿Qué tal estás?”

“No lo sé, confundida, me duele la cabeza. ¿Qué ha pasado?”

“Me llamaste a las tres o así, Lucy estaba contigo, no sabía que te pasaba. Cuando llegaste estabas despierta, pero no contestabas a nada, solo me dabas la mano y me abrazabas.” Notaste los ojos de Joe rojos.

“¿Estás bien Joe? Tienes los ojos rojos.” De repente Joe te abrazó, muy fuerte, más de lo que lo había hecho nunca.

“(Y/N), cuando te ví ahí tirada pensaba que te perdía, no había pasado tanto miedo nunca.” Se separó del abrazo, pusiste una mano en su mejilla, limpiando las lágrimas que caían.

“Estoy bien, Joe. Te lo prometo.” No sabías porqué, pero ambos susurrabais, como si fuera un secreto que ambos estabais enamorados el uno del otro. Joe posó su nariz sobre la tuya, he hizo eterno el camino que hay desde su boca hasta la tuya, pero lo completó. Cerraste los ojos, y solo dejaste que tu atención fuera a su boca, a su lengua, que recorría la tuya.

“Me gustas muchísimo, (Y/N)”

“Y tú a mí, Joe.” Os separasteis al oir la puerta de la habitación, entró una enfermera.

“Buenos días, (Y/N), ¿te encuentras mejor?”

“Un poco mejor.” Dijiste, sonriendo con complicidad a Joe.

“El medico pasará a verte en un rato, a darte los resultados de los análisis y a ver si puedes irte a casa. Te hemos hecho un lavado de estómago y parece que estás mejor.” Dijo mientras revisaba tú suero. “Muchos amigos tuyos están fuera, pero ni el médico ni tú novio” dijo señalando a Joe. “querían que entraran antes de que despertaras.”

“Muchas gracias, ahora sale mi novio a avisar de que pueden entrar.” La enfermera se fue. Miraste a Joe con una sonrisa cómplice. “¿Mi novio?”

“Si no, no me dejaban pasar.”

“Me gusta el título, podríamos dejarlo así.” Joe se acercó sonriente.

“¿De verdad?”

“Claro que de verdad.” Compartisteis un beso más. Miraste a su camiseta blanca, que tenía una mancha amarillenta. “Dime, por favor que eso no es mi vómito.”

“Siento decirte que sí.” Dijo sonriendo.

“Lo siento mucho.” Dijiste suspirando. “Diles que entren, por favor.”

Viste entrar a tus cuatro amigas y a Rami. Olivia te abrazó la primera, con lágrimas en los ojos. “Lo siento, no deberíamos haber entrado en ese sitio.”

“Olivia, tranquila, estoy bien, nos podría haber pasado a cualquiera. Debemos estar contentas de que me haya dado cuenta a tiempo, si no podría haber sido peor.” Notaste la mano de Joe apretando la tuya al otro lado de la cama, que seguro que estaba pensando en los diferentes finales de esta historia.

Mientras tus amigos se distribuían por la habitación te encontraste con la mirada de Rami, que se desplazaba entre tu mano y la de Joe, entrelazada, y tu cara. Te dio una sonrisa cómplice y tú se la devolviste. “Chicos, estaréis cansados, es muy tarde, iros a casa.”

Ellas te sonrieron, aceptando tu propuesta. Después de que todos se fueran, menos Joe, dormiste un rato.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), el doctor está aquí con los resultados.” Escuchaste los susurros de Joe. Te re

“Perdona doctor.”

“No te preocupes, (Y/N). Traigo los análisis. Efectivamente, alguien debió echarte algo en la copa. ¿Tienes idea de quién pudo ser?”

“Bueno, hubo un chico que se acercó, decía que se llamaba Jake. El resto de tiempo estuve con mis amigas.”

“Pues (Y/N), es una droga que, como pudiste comprobar, te deja completamente noqueado. Lo usan los violadores. Aunque sea muy difícil encontrar a quien te ha hecho esto mi recomendación es que denuncies.” Tú asentiste. “Por lo demás todo está bien, puedes irte a casa cuando quieras.”

“Muchas gracias, doctor.” Dijo Joe. Cuando el doctor cerró la puerta Joe se subió a la cama de hospital llorando y abrazándote. “Menos mal que te diste cuenta a tiempo.” Tu asentiste, con los ojos llenos de lágrimas. “(Y/N), cuando estabas ahí tirada en el baño, y me diste la mano, y apretaste un poquito” Dijo dándote la mano. “me dí cuenta de que no quiero estar más tiempo sin decirte lo que siento por ti. Me da igual que no lo sientas, pero tengo que decírtelo.”

“Menos mal que yo siento exactamente lo mismo que tú.” Dijiste, dándole un beso.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagina #BoRhap #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #undrafted #undrafted imagine #the pacific #the pacific imagine #patt murray #patt murray imagine #eugene sledge #eugene sledge imagine #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello angst #angst #joe mazzello fluff #fluff

[albion-93]

RWBY: Family Lost and Found

In this story, an alternate take on the RWBY setting with a few changes, Oscar Pine is a student at Beacon Academy, and now at Ruby’s age. Unfortunately, he has been allocated into a team that bullies and disregards him at every turn. He ran away from the school, but not without Ruby, Pyrrha and Jaune in pursuit.

“OSCAR! WHERE ARE YOU??”

 The normally sweet voice of Ruby Rose had become hoarse and tinged with fear and increasing stress as she sprinted across the empty streets of the City of Vale in search of Oscar Pine. Her urgency drew many concerned and confused onlookers of the Residential District just outside of Beacon Academy. The lights of the windows on the long rows of terraced houses gave off a faint, cool glow in the midnight air. It was unusual for the young Huntsmen of Beacon Academy to venture into the streets at night, and she was worried that Professor Ozpin would hear about this particular exploit and be none too pleased about it.

 Running behind her as fast as they could run yet struggling to keep up, were Pyrrha Nikos and Jaune Arc. The young warriors retained her focus and composure throughout, pausing to catch their breath and survey the streets around them. Ruby stopped to catch her breath and looked around some more; still no sign of him. Frantically glancing around, Ruby’s knees began to quiver as panic and dread welled up inside her.

 “Where could he be?” she said nervously. The three of them could certainly handle a fight against a few common criminals, but they knew that Oscar was not the best fighter.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” said Pyrrha reassuringly, patting Ruby’s shoulder, “certainly before someone like Roman Torchwick does!”

 “Or even with the rest of his so-called team,” said Ruby bitterly, “I asked if they had any idea where he went but they just laughed and said they didn’t care!”

 “I mean, can you blame him for running off? The rest of Team CSMO are pretty much allergic to decency,” said Jaune indignantly, “But the worst of them is that Corwin guy, makes Cardin Winchester look like a pre-schooler!”

 Pyrrha stared at Jaune incredulously.

 “Or at least I assume he does, I’ve never met him in person,” he said sheepishly, “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson!”

 “Hey guys, come here! Look at this!” Ruby called out further up the street, evidently having regained her breath. Jaune and Pyrrha caught up; Ruby was holding a multi-coloured woollen quilt. They stood at a crossroads, one route headed towards the river, and others leading deeper into the city.

 “Oh man, poor guy,” murmured Jaune, exchanging a worried chance with Pyrrha.

 “He can’t be far away!” exclaimed Ruby, now barely able to contain herself from bursting off in another direction.

 “Hold on, Ruby. If he’s close by, I suggest we split up; we might be able to find him more quickly. If any of us sees Oscar, get your scroll out and we’ll meet up,” said Pyrrha.

The rest of the trio nodded in agreement and took each route on the crossroads.

Pyrrha walked up the street for almost an hour, noticing that it was starting to slope downhill. The noise of the city had died down, and the moon shone its ominous frame over the streets. Soon the sound of rushing water grew louder; she was near the river. She turned a corner and saw a solitary lamppost and bench overlooking the river and a small figure seated on it; his skinny arms folded around his legs, his dark hair unmistakable in the lamplight. She sighed in relief and smiled, quickly texting that she had found him and giving her location to Ruby and Jaune. Not wanting to startle the boy, she walked up gently towards him.

 “Hello, Oscar,” said Pyrrha pleasantly, but Oscar didn’t even turn around in surprise.

 “Oh. Hey, Pyrrha, how are you?” said he in a low numb voice. His arms folded even tighter around his legs and he stared blankly across the vibrant cityscape across the river.

 “Well, I’d honestly feel a lot better if I knew what was troubling you,” said Pyrrha in a conversational tone, expectantly waiting for him to stand up, “It’s not safe to be walking these streets at night.”

 “What makes you think something’s troubling me?” he said defensively, avoiding eye contact.

 “Now, Oscar,” said Pyrrha patiently, “don’t you think it’s obvious that if someone’s sitting alone on a cold night that it’s a sign that all isn’t well for them? Ruby’s really worried about you.”

 “Well, aren’t you quite a detective. Look, just leave me alone, will you?!” he snapped.

 “No.”

Stepping closer, Pyrrha stared at him with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. That extra level of firmness bordering on anger startled Oscar. He immediately dropped façade of anger and petulance, slowly turned around and stared up at Pyrrha. His eyes were reddened from crying and lack of sleep, his uniform was a disheveled mess and his cheeks were stained by dried tears. Seeing his distress, Pyrrha immediately dropped her stern expression as she saw a fresh stream of tears forming in Oscar’s eyes. She sat down beside him and extended her arm over his shoulders, holding him tightly. All the while, Oscar’s sharp intakes of breath attempted to stifle the sobbing.

 “What I think you need is someone to talk to. So please talk to me,” she said softly.

 Oscar let his legs fall limply to the ground, and leaned into Pyrrha’s shoulder, still blankly staring outwards. While they sat in silence, many thoughts flooded Oscar’s mind. He knew full well that she wanted to help him, but it was as if there was something in him that only wanted that state of misery to continue. Finally he spoke up.

 “You know about Corwin and his team, but I was able to put up with them because I could always talk to you guys. Now, I just don’t want to deal with it anymore. Ever since Professor Ozpin admitted me into Beacon Academy, it feels as though everything’s been happening way too fast. It’s not the studying or the training, or even my so-called “team mates.” There’s a reason why I lived with only Auntie Em. The week before I enrolled, my aunt and uncle divorced. They wouldn’t tell me why, but I heard their long arguments late at night, saw my aunt crying herself to sleep and my uncle go silent and emotionless. It sounded like Uncle Henry had… been seeing another woman.”

 “That’s awful!” she gasped, looking visibly shaken, “I don’t think I’d be able to even look at my father if he did something like that to my mother. I’m really sorry, Oscar.”

 “I know what he did wasn’t right at all but I still can’t decide whether I want to forgive him or not. I never knew my parents, and for as long as I knew them they really were a great couple. They always held the best family parties with all the extended family from across Mistral. Now, all of that feels broken. Auntie Em told me that she never wanted to see him again, I got angry and upset, we got into a fight and I ended up leaving her on a sour note.”

Oscar’s voice became slower and hoarser as he related his story, new tears streaking down his face. Pyrrha got up and wrapped her arms around him tight. He shook and sobbed for a few minutes until the worst of it passed. She clasped his cheeks so that he was looking directly at her.

“Look at me, whatever happened between your aunt and uncle is not your fault. You can’t change it, but you can still become a great huntsman.”

 “I’m not even sure that’s what I want, Pyrrha,” he glanced towards the river. Pyrrha looked behind her and saw what he meant, growing pale at the thought. But before she could act, a light, sorrowful voice broke the silence.

 “You really are hard on yourself, aren’t you?”

 Oscar turned around, sat still for a moment and then quickly bolted up. Ruby Rose had quietly sat herself down next to them, and Jaune stood sorrowfully behind her.

 “Ruby!” exclaimed Oscar, bolting up and looking at Ruby like a deer frozen in headlights.

 “WAIT! Don’t run away!” she cried loudly, darting forward and grabbing his arm a little too roughly, “We’ve been looking all over for you!!”

 “Oscar, we overheard pretty much the whole story about your aunt and uncle. We thought you were running away because of your team,” said Jaune earnestly, “we can still fix that.”

 “Why didn’t you tell us or one of the professors?” asked Ruby, her voice wavering.

 “I… I don’t really know… I thought I’d just deal with it, by myself. But I couldn’t. Every time I saw you or any of your friends training or just walking by I wanted to call out, let it out. But the more I buttoned it up the more, and the worse it got.” murmured Oscar, casting his eyes down in guilt, his voice becoming more frantic as he went on, “I got scared, scared that I’d fail as a huntsman and disappoint everyone who ever cared about me. What if I end up making all those same mistakes as Henry? What if I try too hard and end up pushing her away? Or worse what if all that happens when I’m much older and… you guys, Weiss, Yang, Nora and all the others, you won’t ever to talk to me again after that.”

 “Oscar, none of that has happened, and it probably never will!” said Ruby, trying her best to reassure him.

 “Wait, pushing who away??” said Jaune.

 Oscar didn’t answer immediately and instead locked eyes with each of them. His heavy breathing subsided until it became a long sigh.

 “Ruby,” he said at last.

 Ruby gasped and stared, and Pyrrha’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth.

 “Wait, are you saying-” began Jaune, dumbfounded.

 “Yes,” he said quickly, “its’ true. You’re the reason why I haven’t left the city, Ruby. Because how can anyone run away from the one person who could light up a whole castle with her smile alone?”

 Ruby stood transfixed, unable to speak, many conflicting emotions filling her silver eyes. After a few seconds, a glimmer of a smile started to appear on Oscar’s face, and even flushes of red restored to his cheeks before speaking again this time without any sadness in his voice.

 “I’m really sorry, guys, I shouldn’t have run away. Can you forgive me?”

 “Oscar, listen to me very carefully,” said Ruby gently, her cheeks starting to flush, “Your team might be rotten, but there are people here who like you and want you to be okay. You’re not your uncle, and you’re not some thug’s punching bag. You are… a good person, and cute, and...”

 “Ruby, focus!” exclaimed Pyrrha, before addressing Oscar, “We don’t blame you for all this. But remember this: no matter where you came from or what they say about you, you are a Huntsman. So we can’t change the past, but we can help you improve your future, starting right here and right now.

 “Take it from me, kiddo, Pyrrha knows what she’s talking about,” said Jaune, looking to Pyrrha with a light-hearted wink, causing the red haired warrior to chuckle and grin, “So, what do you say we call go home and straighten this mess out?”

 “That sounds great,” said Oscar at last, his tears dried and colour restored to his face.

 At this, Ruby tackle hugged him causing him to lose his footing, eliciting coos from Pyrrha and a hearty laugh from Jaune. In a burst of rose petals and lightning fast movement, Ruby grabbed Jaune and Pyrrha and pulled them into a four way group hug, sandwiching Oscar, his eyes closed in contentment.  Eventually they broke apart.

“Thank you, guys,” he said at last, smiling, “I needed it.“

Jaune playfully ruffled his hair and Pyrrha going in for one more hug, and began their journey back to Beacon. But Oscar held Ruby back under the lamppost for a moment. She handed him his multi-coloured quilt.

“This is for saving my life,” he said, taking Ruby’s hand and planting a brief kiss. He looked up nervously, but Ruby’s glimmering silver eyes quickened his heart with joy.

 “And this is for not running away,” she said, giving him a full kiss on the cheek.

#rwby #rwby fanfic #rwby rosegarden #ruby rose #oscar pine #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #some angst #fluff at the end #ruby rose x oscar pine #rosepine

[texanredrose]

11 or 13 for the uni prompts with the pairing of your choice?

THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I’M SORRY. But I actually filled both of these and the other one will be posted on Friday, if it’s something that you might be interested in or whatever, lol.

Blake stared at the page, willing for the words to come. She’d read the chapter five times but still hadn’t managed to find the proper way to articulate her point for the essay, which was due in a mere two days. Normally, she wouldn’t be this stonewalled while doing any form of writing assignment, but recently her attention seemed shot as she faced the dreaded reality that she might, in fact, be facing a rather severe case of writer’s block.

Ultimately, the entire premise sucked. The Faunus understood being unable to string words together when it came to creative writing or a piece of fiction, where all the work sat on the writer’s shoulders to arrange and rearrange words until they fit together just right, but academic papers should be rather straight forward. Choose a point, articulate it, expand upon that articulation, then wrap everything up- it shouldn’t be this difficult.

Yet, here she sat, in the college library at nearly eight o'clock in the evening, staring alternatively at a blank page and a textbook and no closer to finding a way to express her answer to the essay’s question.

“What impact, if any, did Vale’s Standardized Trade Agreement have on Remnant politics?” She kept her voice low, hoping that rolling the syllables off her tongue might help the answer come together.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know the impact it had- quite the opposite, actually- but condensing the fifty years of political reform that followed seemed impossible to do in a mere four thousand words. While points likely wouldn’t be taken off for missing a few key developments, she couldn’t quite hit on where to start, seeing as the more profound effects weren’t acknowledged until a good twenty years after the STA was put into effect, but several small victories were won in the meantime.

Sometimes, being a political science major vexed her to no end.

“Hey, babe,” someone said, effectively breaking her concentration due to proximity alone. Her right feline ear flicked atop her head, a momentary betrayal of annoyance; she had to work especially hard to block out distracting noises, but she shouldn’t have been so focused as to not notice someone approaching her. About six feet away, leaning on the edge of the table, stood a young man with brown hair and a cocky grin. He had his arms crossed over his barrel chest and seemed at once disinterested and entirely focused on her. “Busy?”

“Very,” she replied, her ears laying back a little.

“You can’t be that busy.”

“Yes, actually, I am.” Turning back to her textbook, Blake opted to try ignoring him in the hopes he might go away.

No such luck. “I’m sure you have some time to spare. It’s just homework, right?”

“It’s an essay that counts for a significant portion of my grade.” She flicked her amber eyes up, scowling at him through black bangs. “And I need to focus. Please, leave me alone.”

Being polite, perhaps, wasn’t the optimal way to go, but she really didn’t have the energy or patience for an escalating shouting match. Hopefully, he would take the hint.

He did not. “Aw, come on, Kitten.”

“Don’t call me that.” Mentally, she kicked herself for reacting, but she couldn’t help but throw a glare his way as the words left her mouth.

“Why not?” The young man’s lips curled into a grin, as if he was somehow gaining ground. It bolstered his confidence, apparently, leading to him pushing off and swaggering a few steps closer. “Seems like it gets your attention.”

“I just want to do my work,” she said, mentally doing the calculations. Blake didn’t want him towering over her, true, but neither did she want to move and invite him any closer. If he took the aggressive route, she would overall have an easier time arguing her case if she remained seated, and she absolutely hated that she would have to put herself at a disadvantage to gain that.

“I know what you want.” He winked, sending a shudder through her frame as every fiber of her being went on high alert. He advanced, preparing to lean over her, and she balled her fists in response. “You’d really like if I-”

“She’d like for you to leave.” A new, feminine voice cut in, followed by the dull thunk of something being placed on the table. Whoever had come up behind her had the young man’s full attention, eyes going wide as he immediately began to back away, holding both hands up in a placating gesture. She caught the soft swirl of fabric as the newcomer stepped around her but didn’t dare look; she didn’t trust the man to keep his distance. “I believe we’ve had this conversation before, Winchester.” The woman spoke with the authority of a superior but she couldn’t be much older than Blake herself, or the young man for that matter. Hair white as snow, pulled off to the side of her head, swayed with her motions as the interloper put herself between the Faunus and the man, continuing her tirade. “Your barbaric, unsolicited advances are as unwanted as ever. Leave while I’m feeling merciful.”

“Alright, alright, sheesh.” He turned and walked away, hands shoved into jean pockets as he muttered one parting shot. “Frigid bitch.”

When the woman turned around, the relief that Blake had hoped to feel fled in the wake of realization; she knew exactly who’d come to her ‘rescue’, though she couldn’t decide yet if that was a good or bad thing.

“I could’ve handled it myself,” she said, her ears still laying back against her skull and the urge to stand and face the threat against her prickling at her skin. On the outside, she tried to remain composed, but Blake prepared for the worst internally.

“I’m sure you could’ve, but I couldn’t stand idly by while that cretin ran his mouth.” Bright blue eyes darkened as they flicked towards where Winchester had fled, her expression pinching into a scowl. She had the pale skin of one born in the northern continent, marred only by the scar bisecting her left eye, but that served just as further confirmation of her identity, something she must’ve noticed when she turned her attention back to Blake and saw a rigid posture and a healthy dose of skepticism. “I suppose my reputation precedes me.”

“Weiss Schnee of Atlas.” The Faunus didn’t bother with the pleasantries, cutting right to the heart of the matter. “Heiress to the most unambiguously unethical corporation in all of Remnant, famous for their constant breaching of labor laws. I do know who you are.”

Despite the certainty with which she said the words, Blake had to mentally admit that she probably wouldn’t have recognized her from afar. For someone who could easily clothe herself in thousand lien jackets and the like with nothing more than a snap of her fingers, the woman seemed rather… normal, if a bit overly formal. A plain white blouse and a light blue pencil skirt with heels- she’d easily be mistaken for an aid or research assistant rather than a student, if she was a student at all. The Faunus only kept up with the scandals that seemed to always scroll across the bottom of every news station; what the controlling family did in their personal lives rarely concerned her. Really, the messenger bag hanging from her shoulder seemed to be the only thing hinting at her heritage, the white Schnee snowflake emblazoned upon it and looking at least worth a few hundred lien, but the coffee cup from the shop adjacent to the library seemed out of place, just like the rest of her ensemble.

“Right. Of course.” Something flashed in the woman’s eyes as she lowered her gaze, then inclined her head. “I apologize for my intrusion.”

Blake watched as she turned away, starting to leave. Her ears slowly rose, no longer pinned in place as her muscles relaxed. She… hadn’t thought it would be that easy to break contact with a Schnee, though she admittedly had never met one before. In an effort to dismiss the whole fiasco, she turned back to her textbook and noticed out of the corner of her eye a new addition to the table, the source of the sound she’d heard upon Weiss’ arrival. Another cup from the coffee shop.

“Schnee.” Blake called out, just loud enough to catch the woman’s attention. She waited until blue eyes were directed her way before nodding towards the cup. “You left your drink.”

“It’s not for me,” the woman replied, offering a small half smile. “I’ve noticed we’re both usually here in the library on Wednesday nights doing homework so I thought… perhaps we could talk.” She looked away. “I was foolish to make that assumption.”

“Why me?” She didn’t need to look around to confirm it; during the week, there were always several students in the library, and many kept to a schedule. If she simply sought company, she had plenty of people to pick from, so deciding to approach the Faunus seemed… odd.

“You mean aside from your interest in political science?” She nodded towards the textbook on the table. “Beacon is famous for its diverse student population and it would be a shame if I didn’t take advantage of that to learn more about people outside of Atlas. My roommates advised that most probably see me as… unapproachable, so I should try approaching others.”

“There are plenty of humans here who would love to be your friend,” Blake narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to shake the sensation that the woman was being as sincere as possible. Her entire posture seemed far too stiff- shoulders, back, arms, neck, all riddled with tension like a drawn bowstring- and her voice carried a hint of finality, as if she was prepared to be dismissed at any second.

“I’m quite certain if they want to be my friend, I probably shouldn’t be theirs,” she replied, a small sigh passing through her lips. “They probably see me the same as you do- a greedy bigot poised to seize power of an influential company. It’s certainly the mold laid out for me, isn’t it?”

“Are you saying you haven’t done anything to fit exactly that?” After dealing with that jerk from earlier, she really didn’t have the patience for tact as her anger boiled close to the surface.

“No, I have.” The woman looked away then and it took Blake a moment, in her anger addled mind, to realize that she wasn’t diverting her gaze out of wounded pride. In fact, it looked more like… shame. “I’ve said some awful things. I may not have put any policies in place or raised a hand myself but that doesn’t negate what I have done.” A mirthless chuckle escaped as she shook her head. “It’s a double edged sword, I’m afraid. It wouldn’t even matter if I apologized; no one would believe I mean it, but they’ll believe anything negative I say in a heartbeat.”

“You can’t know that, especially if you’ve never actually tried.” The Faunus turned, flicking her ears forward as she faced the woman, her homework disregarded for the time being. It would mean a late night tomorrow to catch up but she’d rather call this bluff now to ease any doubts in her mind. “Try me.”

“I beg your pardon?” The Schnee looked at her then, apparently confused.

“Let me hear this apology of yours.” She propped her head up in her hand, waiting. “Let’s see if I believe you.”

“Very well.” Turning towards her fully, the woman straightened her shoulders and tipped her chin up, blue eyes hardening like sapphires as she spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I’ve said; they were hurtful and close minded, born from a place of hate and ignorance. I didn’t realize it at the time… but that doesn’t relieve me of the responsibility of saying them.” Her expression and posture faltered slightly, obvious effort being put forth to maintain eye contact with the Faunus. “I’m sorry for the way I used to think, for believing the lies fed to me and taking them as absolute truth.” Then she broke her gaze away, somewhere into the distance over Blake’s shoulder. “But, ultimately, I’m most sorry that it’s taken this long, that my family’s held fast to this terribly archaic and discriminatory mindset, and that they’ve continued to inflict all manner of harm upon the Faunus and all other manner of people they… we considered beneath us. I’m sorry it’s taken until me to change and I’m even more sorry that I haven’t done it fast enough.”

A frown touched her lips as Blake looked, seeking any sort of deception in her tone, her face, her posture, but finding none. Just… an incredible amount of poise, likely taught from birth, and in that moment she realize what the woman had meant. If it was anyone else, she’d take them at their word- people make mistakes, they believe falsehoods in absence of facts, and while ignorance was no excuse it did lend a different lens to a person’s actions- but, because the words were coming from a Schnee, she felt compelled to seek out any hint of duplicity. Even if she had every reason to believe the words were true, some part of her didn’t want to believe it at all.

“Why now?” She tilted her head, waiting until she had the woman’s gaze focused on her once more. “What prompted you to change your mind?”

With a wave of her hand, Schnee- Weiss indicated the library around them. “You mean aside from compelling evidence?” A small smile touched her lips, the bitter sort. “I’d started to suspect there was more to the world than I was being taught a few years ago. Subtle inconsistencies, hushed remarks I shouldn’t have caught, but they started to add up. Coming to Beacon confirmed my theories, as well as opened my eyes to… much more.”

“That’s pretty recent a change; semester only started a month ago.” Blake flicked her ears.

The woman shrugged. “I have to start somewhere. I chose to start here and now.”

“You father can’t be too happy about that.”

“I suspect he won’t be but, if I play my cards right, I’ll be in control of the family business before he realizes I have no intention of following through with the policies he’s put into place.” Her jaw clenched, a little aggravation creeping into her voice. “Frankly, that’s the hardest part of all this.”

“Why not walk away from it all?” She reached over, taking hold of the paper cup. “I mean, trying to change it from the inside is no small feat.”

“The alternative is allowing things to proceed as they have for far too long. It might not make me the most popular person in Atlas but I’ve spent my whole life being a precious doll on parade, doing exactly as I’m told. I think it’s high time I earned some ire.” Her blue eyes flashed, confidence in her tone matching the smile on her lips. “If I leave, I can do nothing but hope things improve, but from the top, I can tear away the cancers with my bare hands and guide the company into the future. If there’s any honor left in my surname, I want to be the one to restore it.”

“That’s… well, it’s something.” She didn’t want to give the woman too much credit; a lot could change in the years before she took control of the company, after all. Yet, she also found herself wanting to believe her, if for no better reason than she had a point. If her family’s company would finally fall in line with the progressive trends occurring in other kingdoms, the movements would pick up traction. It certainly would eliminate some roadblocks that continued to stymie affected groups. Deciding to take a drink to buy herself a little time, Blake lifted the cup to her lips and blinked in surprise as the liquid hit her taste buds. On the one hand, it appeared to be close enough to her usual order for her to not mind the change… but on the other- “It’s cold.”

She looked over in time to note the brief panic that flares in the woman’s expression before she spoke, appearing calm and collected. “Yes, well, you seemed rather focused on your work and I know I’m not very fond of distractions when I’m trying to study, so I thought I’d wait until you took a break.”

The Faunus felt her lips curl into a small smile as one brow rose. “And just how long were you waiting?”

Whatever composure Weiss had broke down in that moment, exasperation showing plain on her face. “I couldn’t just come up and bother you! I don’t think that would’ve worked out well at all!” Blake remained quiet, watching the woman with an expectant expression until she finally rolled her eyes. “I got here at five.”

“At five?” She checked her scroll for the time and couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been waiting to talk to me for three hours?”

“I was trying to make a good first impression.” She set her free hand on her hip, the one wrapped around her own cup shifting so she could point a finger at the Faunus. “Admit it; you would’ve been quite vexed with me if I just came up and started talking to you while you were working.”

“Maybe a little.” She looked at her blank page, a sigh passing her lips. “But I might’ve welcomed the distraction. Three hours and I still have no idea how to even start this paper.”

“What’s the subject? Maybe I could help?” Weiss took a step closer, but that was all, still walking on eggshells it seemed.

That made two of them. “It’s… well, it’s about the changes generated from the STA.” Her brows furrowed as she ran a hand through her hair. “I know every little thing that happened following its implementation, but I have no idea how to condense all that down to four thousand words, and frame it from a purely political standpoint. It’s just… impossible.”

For a moment, she simply wallowed in her frustration, trying to make the words assemble properly, but the futile effort was broken when the woman spoke. “Have you considered approaching it from a macro level?”

“How do you mean?” The Faunus’ ears flicked forward as she looked at Weiss.

“Well, the STA did one thing that cemented its importance in the history books: it firmly tied financial stability to individual rights by forcing other kingdoms to acknowledge foreign merchants as full fledged citizens.” She gestured towards the book. “Kingdoms who refused suffered economically and those who acquiesced had to amend their laws to accommodate the influx of merchants, who eventually founded the rights activism groups that led to wide spread victories for the Faunus and other minorities across Remnant. In turn, these new groups of citizens had the right to voice their opinions in political forums through suffrage, thereby changing the face of Remnant politics.”

Blake blinked. On a very vague, large scale level, that explanation actually did sum up the entirety of the STA’s impact, and it gave her the opportunity to reference the laws and agreements that followed to usher in those new social expectations of corporations and kingdoms alike that she’d struggled to acknowledge before. Quickly, she reached for her pen, beginning to scribble out the beginnings of her outline, opting to plan it out now so she didn’t go off on a tangent and exceed the word limit by too much. By the time she was finished, considerably more confident in her ability to complete the essay on time, the Faunus looked up to note that Weiss had left at some point and was just then returning, another paper cup in hand.

“Here. This one’s at least warm.” She offered the new cup and it briefly occurred to Blake to beg off but, all things considered, she’d probably need the caffeine boost.

“So, I suppose the next logical question is: how do you know my order?”

“You wouldn’t take 'lucky guess’ as a suitable answer, would you?” Weiss chuckled, nodding back towards the cafe. “I’ve been behind you in line a few times, and you’ve left your receipt before. Plus, not many people order a chai tea latte with a shot of espresso.”

She tilted her head, noting that the woman was still standing instead of claiming one of the chairs at the table. Even with her textbook and notebook on the surface, there remained plenty of room for her to set her bag down, if she so chose. But she suspected it didn’t quite have much to do with that. “How long have you been trying to work up the nerve to talk to me?”

“I suppose I’m giving myself away, aren’t I?” She sighed. “A few weeks now. It just… never seemed like the opportune moment.”

“You were nervous.”

“I was not nervous.” They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before the woman relented. “I believe 'apprehensive’ is a more suitable term.”

“Which… is synonymous with 'nervous’.” Blake smirked, counting the eye roll she received in response as a victory.

“Are you a walking thesaurus as well?”

“No, but I am taking a minor in creative writing,” she said, glancing down at the textbook. “I want to change the world for the better, and the written word can influence that as well. Books can last well beyond a single person’s lifetime.”

“Well, I know who to call for appropriate phrasing when I inevitably put out the memo to everyone that it’s a new company policy to stop being an asshole,” Weiss replied, chuckling with the Faunus’ unexpected laugh.

“You know, so far the only expectation of mine you’ve met is having all the subtlety of a battering ram.” She tilted her head, one ear flicking back as she heard someone mentioning the library would only be open for a few more hours. “And a pretty way of handling words.”

“I’ll take both of those as compliments.” She paused, weighing her next words carefully. “To be frank, I’m a little surprised you decided to listen. I certainly couldn’t fault you for… well, not doing so.”

“My parents taught me to listen well and be slow to anger; that patience creates change just as much as it anticipates it. I don’t always live up to that motto, admittedly, but I try.” Suddenly, something occurred to her and she couldn’t help but test out her theory firsthand. “By the way, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Unless you managed to pick up my name as well while you’ve been nervously hovering just out of sight.”

“I didn’t, actually, and, for the record, there’s a clear difference between gauging a situation over a long period of time and 'stalking’ as you seem to be implying I’ve been doing, which I haven’t!” The Faunus anticipated such a defensive response- the woman likely had little choice, either taking the offensive or constantly defending herself, especially on such an open minded campus as Beacon- and offered her hand, effectively stymying Weiss’ words. Noting the amusement that must’ve been showing in amber eyes, she shook her head and accepted the gesture. “At any rate, you’re already aware of who I am. Weiss Schnee, middle daughter and heiress to the most unambiguously unethical corporation in all of Remnant.”

“Charmed,” she replied, shaking Weiss’ hand firmly. “I’m Blake. Blake Belladonna.”

Immediately, the woman stiffened, her eyes widening just enough to betray the panic that must’ve shot through her. “Blake… Belladonna.”

“Yes. Daughter of the Chieftain of Menagerie… but I think you already knew that.” Blake withdrew her hand, leaning back in her seat and tilting her head slightly. “At least, you’ve certainly heard of my father, Ghira Belladonna. Probably my mother too, right?”

“Your- your parents are publicly visible figures; of course I know who they are!” Half a step back in retreat, that was all Weiss gave before she stopped herself. “But you…”

“I’ve stayed out of the public spotlight.” She shrugged, remembering so many arguments she had with her parents over their decision. Eventually, she matured to the point where she understood why they wanted so badly to keep her sheltered from some of the ill effects of the spotlight; she might not be able to outrun her reputation in the capitol of Menagerie, but she had a fair amount of anonymity elsewhere in the kingdom, and the rest of Remnant never seemed to connect her to her father. It probably had to do with her feline features being from her mother’s side of the family, and Kali worked best behind the scenes. “My name’s a dead giveaway, true, but it’s usually only Faunus who can recognize me on sight, and sometimes not even then.”

“If I’d have known…”

The way she trailed off piqued Blake’s interest, causing her to cant her ears forward. “If you’d known who I was, what then?”

“I never would’ve approached you.” She admitted, blue eyes falling to the space between them. “Out of everyone, I would think you’d have the most reasons to object to… everything my name represents.”

“Then I suppose I should thank my parents.” She nodded, slowly. “They always told me I would one day understand the benefit of anonymity. I always thought they meant putting off what it would feel like to have every Faunus in the area turning to me for guidance or answers but… I guess that day’s today.” Her ears fell slightly as she chose to be a bit more honest. “I’d heard rumors that one of the Schnees was attending Beacon and I did everything in my power to ignore that. I figured our meeting would just lead to a fight and it wasn’t worth getting expelled over, so I definitely wouldn’t have sought you out, even if people started saying you were friendly to Faunus.”

“I probably would’ve done the same, had anyone mentioned the child of Ghira Belladonna was attending the same school as me. I would’ve avoided any and all Faunus, just to keep from causing a scene.” The woman stared for a moment before recovering, a small laugh escaping her lips. “How poetic.” At Blake’s prompting, she elaborated. “It seems only fitting that we both share an understanding of what burden the weight of one’s surname can be. We’re not so different, are we?”

She smiled. “I think that’s the beauty of the world, though. For all the differences, the nuances that can divide us, we are, at our core, more similar to each other than dissimilar. Some of us choose to ignore that but those who can acknowledge it… I think it opens up untold opportunities.”

“You certainly have a way with words… Miss Belladonna?”

“Blake. We’re peers, are we not?” She took a sip of her drink, much preferring the liquid at its proper temperature. “Thank you for this, Weiss.”

“You’re welcome, Blake.” The woman smiled, taking a sip of her own drink and frowning slightly. Apparently, while going to grabbed a fresh cup for the Faunus, she’d opted not to get one for herself, or had already drank it all. “I’ll leave you to your studies now. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Don’t you have some work to do as well?” She indicated the messenger bag.

“Yes, just a bit of studying for a test.”

“There’s plenty of room here.” Blake set her cup down and picked up her pen. “I might not be much for conversation while I’m writing but there’s no need to run off.”

Weiss smiled, walking around to the other side of the table. “I suppose you have a point.”

She returned to her essay, starting on a fresh page and following her outline while the woman pulled out her own study material across from her. They spent the rest of the time in silence, working independently, until the library closed and they were forced to retire. Blake only had the conclusion of her essay left but her wrist ached from sustained writing, a common problem she couldn’t seem to overcome. It would be much easier to simply type the essay but her professor was the traditionalist sort who thought the use of scrolls would make plagiarizing much easier. While she could appreciate the feel of a pen in her hand and enjoy the scratching of its tip against paper, such enjoyments were reserved for her personal writing rather than assignments.

“Do you live on campus?” Blake found the words slipping from her mouth as she absently rubbed her wrist, the two descending the library stairs together. It seemed a forgone conclusion for most of Beacon’s student population but she wasn’t talking to the average student, at least not background wise.

“Yes, actually. Over in the Nevermore building, second floor.”

The Faunus blinked, tilting her head slightly in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes? Why would I lie about that?” Weiss puffed out a breath, half exasperation and half amusement. “Don’t think I haven’t considered living off campus, though. My roommate can be a little… much at times. She’s an engineering student with more energy that a frat house with an endless supply of beer.”

Laughing at the rather colorful simile, Blake caught her breath as they started walking towards the building, which was quite a ways from the campus library. “No, I mean- I’m not surprised you live on campus.” Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. “Perhaps I am a little bit, but I’m more surprised we live in the same building and have never passed each other in the halls; I’m on the third floor. I’m even further surprised that I know exactly who your roommate is.”

“You do?” The woman raised a brow, but then nodded to herself. “She does seem like the type to be friendly and outgoing, when she isn’t engrossed in some messy project.”

“Actually, I know her because she’s my roommate’s sister,” she said. While she couldn’t tell if Ruby talked about her sister quite so often, Yang would go on and on about her genius sibling, accepted to Beacon a full two years ahead of most. Her roommate also kept a collage of pictures from when they were growing up beside her bed.

“Wait, Yang Xiao Long is your roommate?” Weiss furrowed her brows, looking quite scandalized. “I’ve never met her myself but everyone-”

“Those rumors are… true, but not to the degree most people tell them.” The Faunus sighed, having dealt with both hearing the whispers herself and Yang’s exasperation regarding them. At first, the blonde didn’t seem to mind, but things quickly spiraled out of control and she couldn’t seem to escape her own reputation. Seems they had a bit of a club going in that department.

“So, she doesn’t start fights everywhere she goes?”

“No, but she’s prone to using her fists rather than her words. She and Ruby got to Beacon before the beginning of term and decided to hit up a club downtown to celebrate. When she caught someone trying to spike her sister’s drink, she lost her temper and it started a huge fistfight.” Blake shrugged, having heard the story from both of them when she first arrived, before the rumors started in earnest. “Yang’s actually pretty chill otherwise. She’s a bit messy as a roommate but she’s honestly more of a mom than anything; it took two weeks solid before I got her to stop texting me to see if I missed a meal.”

“Well, I can certainly see the familial resemblance. Ruby’s just as messy, I imagine, and she gets so focused on her projects that she forgets to eat.” Weiss huffed. “At least now I know who keeps texting her at all hours of the day. From what I understand, her sister practically raised her, and I knew she was on the campus but had no idea she lived on the floor above us.” The woman hummed to herself thoughtfully. “Well, now I feel spectacularly foolish. Had I consented to meeting Yang properly, I wouldn’t have spent the past few weeks trying to just talk to you.”

“Yeah, you probably should’ve been more mindful about reputations belying a person’s intentions,” the Faunus said, a smile curling her lips at the clear dismay in Weiss’ expression.

“I suppose I have a long way to go in practicing what I preach,” she replied, a rueful smile on her lips.

“I think we all do.” She shrugged. “But once we’ve realized a misstep, it’s on us to do better next time.” Blake pulled out her scroll, shooting off a quick text to see what her roommate was doing that evening. Although she didn’t take studying nearly as seriously, Yang maintained respectable grades and split her time between training for her sports teams to keep her scholarships and catching up on any homework she didn’t do in class. There was about a fifty-fifty chance of her being in the room on any given night because of that. “Would you like to meet her? We can invite Ruby too, maybe go out for a late dinner?”

Weiss checked her own scroll, looking at the time. “I… don’t have an early class tomorrow and I’m fairly certain Ruby doesn’t either. I’ll text her.”

The Faunus felt her scroll buzz and checked, glad to see that her roommate was both free and hungry, shooting off another text informing her of the plan. “Great. Yang’s down, and she knows all the best restaurants with reasonable prices. Be ready, though; she has an… interesting sense of humor.”

“Yes, her sister always mentions that she favors puns.” The woman rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “Honestly, it might be a refreshing change of pace.” Blake opted to remain silent on that front as they arrived at their dorm building, heading up the stairs together and parting at the second landing, seeing as they still had to drop off their books and such before heading out. “Blake?”

“Hmmm?” She stopped and turned around, noting the genuine expression on the woman’s face.

“Thank you,” she said, shrugging slightly as she seemed to struggle for words. “For giving me a chance.”

“Thank you, Weiss. For daring to ask for one.” The Faunus smiled a bit wider. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, outside the front door?”

“See you then.”

Blake went up to her floor, bypassing the student lounge and heading straight for her room. Along the way, she ran into a friend, the monkey Faunus looking like he’d just barely woken up despite the relatively early hour.

“Hey, Blake. What’s up?” He yawned, reaching up to stretch. “Where ya been?”

“At the library, studying.” She contemplated, for a moment, telling him the whole story, but refrained for two reasons. One, he was obviously barely awake as it was, and the second being she wanted a longer gauge of Weiss’ character before making a big deal out of their tentative friendship. Sun might’ve been one of the most laid back Faunus she’d ever met, thanks in no small part to him hailing from Vacuo, but she didn’t like to take risks when she didn’t have to and things might not work out anyway. “Calling it an early night?”

“Nah, I took an afternoon nap that went way too long.” He chuckled, running a hand through his mop of blond hair. “You heading to bed?”

“I’m going out to dinner with some friends first.” She patted his bare shoulder. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Sun mumbled before ducking back into his room, likely to play some video game or other for a while until he could fall asleep again.

As Blake ducked into her own room, right next to his, she idly thought about introducing him to some of her friends. They had differing schedules which made hanging out a bit difficult at times and, after the first two weeks where he barraged her with questions about growing up in Menagerie she’d avoided him for a bit to drive the point home that he needed to learn a little self control, he actually was a very nice person and a good friend. Now that they had more or less hashed out their boundaries- well, hers, to be specific- she needed to set aside some time for everyone to meet. 

“What’s up, roomie?” Yang called out, sliding on her favorite leather jacket. “Kinda surprised you wanna head out for a bite this late. Don’t you have class tomorrow morning?”

“We won’t be out too late.” She set her textbooks on her bed for the time being and watched the blonde finish getting ready. “Plus, I think this is going to be worth it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Your sister’s coming with us, plus her roommate, who I just spent the last few hours getting to know.” Blake waited for the spark of recognition, slightly surprised when it didn’t come.

“Oh, that rich chick? Funny, didn’t seem like she was the type to hang out like normal people.” Yang chuckled, checking her hair in the mirror by her bed. “Ruby always made her sound like the anti-social type.”

“Well, all things considered, I can see why she’d avoid people at first,” she said, waiting a beat before continuing. “A lot of people have strong opinions about Weiss Schnee.”

Instantly, her roommate’s gaze snapped to her, expression pinching into one of slight anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? That-”

She held up a hand, stopping the woman’s rage in its tracks. “Hey, I just spent the past few hours getting to know her, okay? I think she’s sincerely trying to be a better person than she’s been in the past and I’m willing to give her a chance. Shouldn’t you?”

Yang clenched her jaw, eventually sighing and waving her hand. “Alright, alright, I’ll cool my jets. But she says one thing I don’t like and I’m punting her through a window.”

It was an empty threat, mostly, but an expected reaction all around. “You’re being overprotective again.”

“Is there another way to be?” The blonde arched a brow, offering a small grin. “Sorry, roomie, but you’re stuck with me lookin’ out for you, and I come with a lifetime guarantee!”

Blake laughed, shaking her head. “Fine, but hurry up. I’d like to get back at a decent time.”

The duo eventually went down and met Ruby and Weiss at the door, the former practically jumping in place with excitement while the latter seemed mildly annoyed and amused. By the time the four arrived at a suitable restaurant- a nice, traditional Vale noodle house down by the docks- Yang had mercilessly teased Weiss whenever the opportunity presented itself, trying to make the woman snap and it eventually worked. Blake and Ruby almost couldn’t stop laughing at the nigh ten minute long lecture Yang endured and the woman almost left the restaurant entirely rather than deal with the ridiculous antics, but she eventually calmed down and everyone took turns teasing one another over silly things. Ruby and Yang got it the worst, though, after the younger of the sisters decided it would be fair game to bring up childhood stories that embarrassed the both of them, and the trip back to Beacon was spent trying not to pass out from laughing too hard.

“Ya know, roomie, I gotta hand it to ya; the Ice Queen ain’t half bad after she thaws a little,” Yang said, closing the door to their dorm room behind them and crossing her arms over her chest. “But now, I got a question.”

“Go on,” she replied, moving her textbook and notebook from earlier to the desk, ready for the following day, while collecting up a change of clothes. They’d gotten back later than she would’ve liked but, honestly, the night was worth a little lost sleep.

She should’ve known by the silence that forced her to look at her roommate and she definitely should’ve expected it when she saw that teasing twinkle in lilac eyes. “Is it gonna be 'Blake Schnee’ or 'Weiss Belladonna’?”

The Faunus followed her first impulse; she picked up her pillow and threw it with all her strength at the laughing blonde. “Yang!”

“Aw c'mon, admit it, she’s cute, she’s smart, you both seem to share a fair few ideas regarding how things should be in the future- isn’t that the definition of a power couple?” Yang tossed her pillow back, offering a theatrical shrug. “But, maybe I’m just seeing things.”

“You are,” she replied, hoping this it would bring an end to the discussion once and for all.

Although, as she went to change, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that Yang wasn’t wrong on any particular count, but it probably wouldn’t work out, anyway.

#TRR writes #Monochrome #Expectations College AU

[jakbobbygalleryblog]

there’s no Neon Lights Festival this year

you may read a well written article about the event from Bandwagon, this one isn’t

It started raining that day. November is a rainy month this side of the world. And so is August, July, September, in any particular order. 

Some were still from Black Friday Sales as Thanksgiving was around 24 that year. But maybe because Singapore doesn’t really observe this holiday as a country, historically, so it doesn’t matter that much other than department stores.

So yeah, it was raining hard (it never not rained every time I return to this country, often with an amazing thunderstorm you get to notice before your plane even does the landing). I was all too excited to go to the festival but I am so tired that Friday after walking the streets at five in the morning up to seven from Lavender Road just to see the sunrise over Gardens By The Bay, Helix Bridge, and the Singapore Flyer. See, I am supposed to meet a fellow backpacker that morning, as we went around Changi the night before hoping we get ourselves a late night Hawker Centre experience. I insisted we check out the closest to the airport refusing to go McDonalds or such because I will just order McSpicy and I will never really enjoy food that much when going to another place. So yeah, we went to a Hawker Centre and missed our bus going to our places, mine over Lavender Road near Little India, her’s over Chinatown. The cab driver, as we later opted since we missed all our buses, kept on talking about Ferdinand Marcos and Lee Kuan Yew during their time and how things are going politically over South East Asia. It was never the easiest ride I say. All too preachy but well-educated conversation from a cab driver. I am always amazed how these conversations go this part of the world and such counts among those precious Singapore moments. But things are pretty much exhausting and mixed up that Friday; also that was when I decided to meet another friend who toured me from downtown to Bugis to Vivo City to Sentosa to Siloso Bay — everywhere! We even decided to go to the Casino if only the locker rentals for you to chuck your bag in aren’t that pricey. I never lasted ’til dusk. I went home around four in the afternoon just to really take a power nap.

While I am almost getting lost in this post let me get back to the events that Saturday. So I had a good rest and never did anything after dinner that Friday. Damn, it feels so bad thinking about how I missed that much that day.

So while I am contemplating over my loser escapades (don’t worry, it just gets much worse), I came into much more shit after trying to take a lunch over some fancy restaurant along Singapore River around Clarke Quay. It rained so hard I cannot find the place. I ended up hoping I can withdraw money so I can just get a cab to Fort Canning but my bank refused my transaction because I did not notify them in advance and I cannot make international calls because I refused to register to my network, because I really am positive I can hook up over any wifi signal over this country — which I did but I still need to verify some codes etc and texts aren’t coming. So yeah, there. I ended up eating my lunch in a McDonald’s somewhere until the rain stopped. McSpicy demmit.

Come Neon Lights Festival. 26 November 2016. Day 1.

It was raining so hard. Even caught more rain when I arrived at Fort Canning. I entered the wrong side of the venue and I need to walk around the park. I was even wet before another set started. So I only have the chance to take photographs of the live graffiti using my phone and the rest were Instagram stories — was new then so I am all too excited to use it everywhere I go.

One thing was memorable though — the sheer amount of mud, as I heard from one of those who were there, was Glastonbury-ish. Meanwhile, a mate who guided us throughout Singapore was a bit sceptical about that claim, also the crowd was a bit mellow. I should talk about this part later in this entry but I am a bit lazy to really formulate what I am putting in so I just type in whatever I get to think about.

It must be funny but I made friends. Met two people that I tagged along the entire time I was there. They’re the best. The rest of the guys I am supposed to meet were there but we never really made it together while watching Foals.

I was never excited before as I am that night. I was there only to see Foals. Nah, not really.

That day I came to see Foals. But I am amused to see both Lucy Rose and Shura on stage. I also glanced upon SBTRKT in flesh years after hearing his first feature via BBC Radio 6���s Lauren Laverne, if I am right that was a Maida Vale session. So yeah. Chairlift, being just introduced then had me wondering about their music. I missed 2MANYDJS set, but I sure had my chance to see Sugarhill Gang. Cherry on top, perhaps, was some kind of presence Alan Palomo had a.k.a. Neon Indian. Been geeking out how he does things live and I was there to see him with an army and full battle gears!

I walked my way home but this time acquainting myself about the place and how things go during night time. I came in around midnight only to hear people of different cultures talk so much, and so passionately, about world politics at the lounge. It was fun but that day I am just so tired I took the least amount of photographs and just unlovingly take my phone when I can and snap one only to see blurry or useless ones. So yeah. Day 1. DONE.

It was kind of a crazy mix, I have to admit. Both music and the arts are quite curated neatly all over the place — if only there wasn’t that much mud or rain it would have been great, but I love rains, and I do not even complain. I hated it when it started to go sunny around Day 2 but that is something else to even start talking about.

An eclectic mix of everything — and it never disappoints.

Just when people get too attached to calling this a ‘music festival’ must have missed the memo — it is a ‘music and arts festival’. oh for pete’s sake.

Sophia Natasha Wei, of all performers, had me uncomfortable. I never researched in advance what piece was she doing or what the entire thing was about but it kind of works how she does her thing while Daniella Beltrani gets to tie laces along the temporary fences that guide people up to the Fort Gate Stage. I took some videos but I have very bad settings then so I do not think any of you will care enough. That is if you are still reading up to this point.

diskodanny is among those interesting acts. People were a bit hesitant to go near him when compared to Singapore Sculpture Society — who did pretty good and interactive wood stuff by the way. I even took a picture of him tying a pregnant woman. That might sound crazy, but sure it is!

Ng Yi-Sheng. During my last day, I lounged the most inside the Rocking Horse Tent; and I am a bit late for this part when I really insisted I stay while new mates went around to take a photograph with José González. Yi-Sheng did a very nice touch of culture in his spoken poetry and such sincerity when performing poems need more than just claps.

Live graffiti from ANTZ, DEM, ROAK, SLAC, SPAZ and KILAS in Easy Street 

As you can see, I stayed most of the time in the Fort Gate area and The Rocking Horse Tent. 

27 November 2016. Day 2.

It sux, but for me, the festival’s second day is the best of all. Also, the performances for each stage had me asking which do I go first. I am so confused and tired of choosing that I procrastinated for a while that day.

On the way to the park, a guy asked me if I have some cigarette, I said no. Chap seems to be needy for a smoke but I am in Singapore. I need to remind myself that even chewing bubble gums in public is somewhat rude. I ate the best Laksa. Asked for parents to send me monies to spend for a day because, remember, I cannot withdraw from my bank. Went to a mall and notice how overseas workers spend their lazy Sundays hanging out. Saw local Chinese women dressed fancy for a photo shoot near a park bridge. Took the wrong bus. Keep walking like crazy looking at my phone trying to figure out where is north.

I never took pictures.

Initially, I went there to see BadBadNotGood but I arrived at their set almost done and so I just waited for José González and Saras Per Kristian Matsson, a.k.a. The Tallest Man on Earth.

Meanwhile, they were all soul and funk over the Fort Green stage. George Clinton brought his vibes along, while Yuna made the venue a surreal experience despite slight drizzles and the smell of mud some guys were playing to during day one. It was hella muddy everywhere.

I was a bit sick and tired that I get to miss a lot of performances during that night. I tend to ask myself if I really would push it through Sigur Ros or just take enough sleep until I board for my flight past midnight.

But I decided to stay much longer, but that I take a walk outside the venue and have a bar of chocolate — because, hey, there is nothing a chocolate cannot fix! But actually, it must have been the constant chocolate I ate during my stay that I get to feel sick. 

As per doctor’s advice, I should avoid as much as possible too many chocolates and nuts.

Yey!

So when I came back, Yuna’s set was done, there were performances in Club Minky while waiting a bit longer for Sigur Ros.

And so I came to see (or maybe something else) the best among other experiences (yet).

It was the idea of going to Laneway Festival that brought me to really want to go to Singapore, but I never really had the chance to schedule one, let alone catch a ticket sale ahead of time. And when I decided to finally go, I pitched my ideas to publishing companies and entities that follow the scene.

But they either referred me to another editor or they just ignored me.

Eventually pushing this through after documenting a local music and arts festival that same month, I thought, I will never make it that much just taking pictures. I did a portfolio, briefly, on which I had the chance to share it with people I hang out during the festival and ask friends about their thoughts about my photographs.

Was more assuring than I imagined it to be.

I will never forget that moment.

And I was alone most of the time just wandering about, really looking through what is happening. It was fun. Always fun.

This year, they announced that there will be no Neon Lights Festival. Meanwhile Clockenflap Festival is full green light over Hong Kong — another festival I thought of going back then but I chose Singapore first and opted to go this year for it. I never had the chance to push it through, though.

But I guess the trade-off was pretty good. I kind of understand my shortcomings recently. And like any rabbit with fresh batteries plugged, I will never stop doing what I feel I am alive at.

It is always surreal to hear your favourite bands perform live. And it will always be, even if it is not your favourite band, just regular good bands do really well live — I am talking about passion. That raw feeling you get when doing music, or anything you feel the joy of doing. Such a moment is worth any price you pay just to get there. It shouldn’t always be more than what you can afford, just go out there and find something. There’s a lot out there to enjoy.

As for me, Sigur Ros was not just an aural experience, it was a visual spectacle as well. I get to read a lot of their live shows being just like that. It was all worth the trouble.

#sigur ros #neon lights festival #foals #music and arts #music #arts #festival #singapore #asia #The Tallest Man on Earth #jose gonzalez #graffiti #antz #dem #roak #slac #spaz #kilas #outdoors #outdoor concert #Sophia Natasha Wei #diskodanny #Ng Yi-Sheng #park #concert #fort canning park

[cecilspeaks]

162 - “Alpha”

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Fear makes the heart grow louder. And death makes the heart grow flowers. Welcome to Night Vale.

Amelia Anna Alfaro was always the best at everything. On the day she was born, she was named the healthiest baby at Night Vale General Hospital. The doctors had never seen a healthier baby. “What a healthy baby,” they said from behind a bullet proof two-way mirror, as they operated the robotic arms that carefully held the infant aloft. The doctors high-fived each other, missing slightly. The trick, by the way, is to keep your eye on the other person’s elbow. That or glue high-powered magnets to each person’s hand. And all of the nurses cheered from dozens of feet down the hallway, where they were playing with a standard Tarot deck, common in most neonatal units. This cheering was unrelated to Amelia’s birth. The nurses had drawn the ten of swords, which is everyone’s favorite card. It features a relaxed man receiving acupuncture by a river.

Amelia learned to walk at 4 months, and to talk at 6 months. She read Plato’s “Republic” for the first time at age 4. She taught herself German and began to write sonnets in that language at age 7. At age 10, she won her first engineering competition after designing a concrete canoe that could float even on the most turbulent water. There is no body of water in Night Vale, so she had to prove her work using a software she wrote that generated three-dimensional models to corroborate her advanced mechanical physics formulas. She even won the state spelling bee five years in a row, from ages 9 to 13. Her streak was only broken when the spelling bee was canceled, after the sponsors lost their dictionary.

Amelia was always the best, and her mother knew it. Her mother was proud of her daughter, or rather, her mother was proud of herself for producing such a daughter. Or rather, she was proud of both, in a way that was difficult for them to untangle. Amelia’s mother was named Yvette. Yvette could not afford much for her daughter. She worked long hours to earn the respect of her bosses, which (-) [0:04:32] her promotions and larger paychecks, but Yvette had hit the glass ceiling. She did not want this limitation for her daughter. Her daughter would need to be smarter, more talented, and more driven than she. Yvette wanted Amelia’s value to the world to be so great that no one could deny her success.

Yvette recognized Amelia’s specialness and pushed hard to make her even more special, signing Amelia up for athletics and adult learning classes and piano lessons. Amelia sometimes pushed against this. “Mother, I don’t want to” was met with, “But you will, Amelia.” “Why?” was met with, “Because I said so.” “I hate you for this” was met with, “You will love me for it later.”

Begrudgingly, Amelia fulfilled her mother’s wishes. It wasn’t because she understood her mother’s motivation to secure her child a better life, nor was it because Amelia did not have the stomach to fight back. No, Amelia did it because it all came so easy. She was a black belt, a sharp shooter, an academic decathlon champion. She wrote her first novel at age 12, it was called “A Golden Age for Parachuting”, in which an all-Jewish female parachute team wins Olympic gold in 1936 Berlin in front of Adolf Hitler. In the publisher’s rejection letter, the editor said the novel was “immaculately written, however parachuting stories are out of vogue. Do you have anything about magical baseball players?” Amelia did. It was a novel called “One Last Swing for the Tuesday Boys”, but she had written it in German and did not have time to translate the “Dienstag Jungen” manuscript, because she was currently taking a course on bird husbandry.

Yvette enrolled the teenage Amelia in night classes at the community college, where she took English 113, “Sonnets are for lovers”; structural engineering 212, “Buttress is a funny word”; and meteorology 301, “Clouds y’all, amirite?” She earned all As and scores for college credit before she even graduated high school. None of these challenges were difficult for Amelia. She was the best at everything.

But her life was not perfect. Because of the voices. It was the voices that made life hard for Amelia. From birth, she heard the constant chatter of dozens of people. None of the voices spoke directly to  Amelia, they just talked and talked about their lives, and Amelia was afraid of the voices and what the voices might imply about herself. She found solace in puzzles, crosswords, nonograms, acrostics, cryptics, Sudoku, which I think is the one where you have to catch a bunch of marbles with a lever operated hippopotamus. Her mother hated Amelia’s puzzle vice. If she caught Amelia doing puzzles, Yvette would make Amelia go practice archery or write poetry or at least listen to classical music. Amelia’s favorite was Van Cliburn’s masterful 1961 record of Rachmaninoff’s “Piano Concerto nr 13: Knuckles on the Black Keys”. When she was thinking through the solution of a puzzle, the voices did not speak to her. All was silent. It was her only time of peace. It was the only time her body could rest and curl up comfortably into her own thoughts. Anything that took her away from her logic problems including music, no matter how soothing, invited the voices back into Amelia’s thoughts.

Amelia was accepted to several top colleges across the country, including MIT, Stanford, Rice and The University of What It Is, but she wanted to stay near her home town and her family, so she went to State. Hey, that’s where my brother-in-law went! Go State! [chuckles] Ahem. She was elected the youngest president of the student body ever at age 17, and graduated valedictorian two years later. Her friends, her professors, her mother all knew the world was Amelia’s. She could become poet laureate or a senator or a supreme court justice or a quantum physicist. But she became none of those. This is not to say Amelia was not successful or that she amounted to nothing. It is to say, the semantics of success were her own and no one else’s. Amelia became an air traffic controller. The voices never told Amelia to become an air traffic controller, they were never that specific. The voices did not tell her to do anything, they simply talked about first dates, about  apartment hunting, about their grandmothers’ improved health, about a bad movie they sort of loved. None of the voices talked directly to her, it was simply as though she overheard conversations from lives lived somewhere else. Other people and their quotidian hopes and worries and interests. She tried seeing therapists and psychiatrists. She tried medication to stop the voices, but nothing worked. Eventually she decided they were not harmful voices and that she was not dealing with schizophrenia. She simply heard people talking at all hours about all things, having nothing to do with her. And they never told her to become an air traffic controller. Amelia chose her own career, her own path. Others though the reason was that it was the fist job opportunity to present itself for her. Maybe it was her admiration of aircraft, maybe a moral sense of serving humanity through public safety and comfort. In fact, it was none of these reasons. But it should not be surprising to know that Amelia was very good at air traffic control. She was calm, clear, and efficient. The Night Vale international airport, although when Amelia started it was just a commuter hub, has never had a high volume of plane traffic and almost all of those are departures. There are very few arrivals. My husband Carlos, he’s a scientist and he is also very good at his job, tells me that it’s impossible to have far more departures than arrivals, but I told him, not everything has to make sense all the time.

So, in some ways, air traffic control in Night Vale was easier for Amelia than just about any other class or job or task she’d ever attempted. It appeared from the outside to be far below her capabilities. She held that job for 20 years, even taking over as president of the Night Vale chapter of air traffic controllers’ union. In 2004, she was featured in the cover of “Afformative”, a monthly trade magazine for air traffic controllers. The headline of the article was “You’re cleared for success”. In 2006, she was asked to deliver the keynote speech at the annual Roger Con, a conventional for air traffic controllers and fans of air traffic control. It’s a huge deal, held every year in Orlando. People dress like their favorite airline pilots and wait in long lines for autographs from top flight attendants. There are even panel discussions about everything from the best textiles for seat cushions to secret first class meal offerings. Amelia was the best at what she did. She probably would have been the best poet laureate or senator, but this was the path she chose. She chose this path because of the voices, not from what they said, but what they didn’t say. When Amelia was in the control tower, when she was communicating with captains and co-pilots and navigators, her head was clear. All was silent. It was like those many nights, sneaking a copy of the crossword from the newspaper on the kitchenette and solving it by flashlight under her covers. She became an air traffic controller to be by herself, to become her own person. Her mother was disappointed, but loved her in spite of it. Her professors were let down, but still had many fabulous of their greatest student. Her friends were just happy she was happy.

Things changed on June 15, 2012, when Delta flight 18713 made radio contact. In her tall tower, at her tiny airport, in the middle of a vast desert, in the middle of the American Southwest, an airplane appeared on Amelia’s radar. It was carrying 143 passengers and 6 crew members and was flying from Detroit to Albany over the great lakes of the American Northeast. It appeared briefly, the green dot blinking in and out of existence like the sun glinting off a water ripple. It was almost unnoticeable. But everyone noticed it. Later, Amelia was the only one who admitted to noticing it. The radio transmission was equally brief, a surge of static and only one word, difficult to discern but she heard it. “Alpha” was the single word. The letter A in the Nato alphabet. It was garbled, so maybe it wasn’t that word, maybe it was some more adult variation of “Oh fudge”. Alpha. Oh fudge. It was unclear. Amelia requested identification of the aircraft. She requested further communication, but nothing came. As soon as it had squawked, it had gone silent. But while the radio communication was silent, the voices were not. On June 15, 2012, upon hearing a word that sounded like “alpha”, these myriad conversations returned. No one else in the tower could hear them, but Amelia Anna Alfaro could. And for the first time in her life, she began to speak back to them. Everyone else in the tower could hear that. The voices did not cease. The voices continued for days and days and Amelia tried to talk back with them. As one voice said: “I have an interview on Monday,” Amelia would ask “for what job” or if a voice said, “We went to Palm Springs on vacation,” Amelia would say, “Did you also travel out to the Salton Sea?” But over and over, no response. The voices did not affect the quality of Amelia’s work, but it did affect the perceived quality of her work, and her colleagues became uncomfortable with and distrusting of Amelia.

A month later, Amelia heard that word again from one of the voices. “Alpha”. The same voice that radioed in June. But upon hearing it again, she realizes that they didn’t say “alpha” at all. What they said, coming up.

But first The weather.

[“Skinchanger” by Skeptic skepticdeath.bandcamp.com]

The voices said “Alfaro”. The word had been truncated just as the airplane’s appearance in Night Vale had been truncated. The voice saying the word was the captain of the aircraft, and he had been trying to tell Amelia something. The pilot was trying to tell Amelia that he knew her, had always known her since her birth. He didn’t know how he knew her, just that he did, and he wanted to tell her he had found her. And she should find him. “Where are you,” Amelia asked the captain. “No Where,” the voice said. “Did you land?” Amelia asked. “Yes,” the voice said. “Were there injuries?” Amelia asked. “Minor,” the voice said. “Do you hear the other voices too?” Amelia asked. “Yes,” the captain said. “I’m with them right now. Find us, Amelia.” “Where are you?” Amelia asked again, louder, more scared than before. “No Where,” the voice said, not like the vague concept of in no place but No Where, two words capitalized like the name of a specific place. Amelia felt a tap on her shoulder. It was another air traffic controller. “Uh, boss wants to see you, Amelia,” they said. But Amelia did not go to see the boss. She knew. She knew her time in the tower was done. She grabbed her belongings and walked to the elevator, out across the tarmac to a shuttle to a parking lot and into her car, and no one saw her again. Her friends said she always talked about going back to school to get an advanced degree. Maybe she went to Stanford. Or Rice, or The University of What It Is. Other friends said she had lost all touch with reality, talking to people who were not there, and maybe her mother checked Amelia into the Night Vale asylum.

Yvette says Amelia knew too much, that agents from a vague yet menacing government agency had been to their house and that Amelia must have been taken to a secret location. Representatives from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau in Washington, DC, came to Night Vale two months ago to investigate the disappearance of flight 18713. They are on an undercover mission inside the Night Vale asylum right now, on a tip from Sheriff Sam, to discover more clues into this mystery. Perhaps Amelia is in there too. But I don’t think so. I think she went to find the plane. I think the voices were the passengers on Delta 18713. I think she set out looking for them. Perhaps wandering the desert, the great No Where, to find the people who had been a part of her life since birth.

Amelia. Anna. Alfaro. was always the best at everything. And if anyone will find the plane, she will.

Stay tuned next for our new investment advice show “Billionaire Roulette”.

And as always, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Love means never having to say “you’re a werewolf”.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 162 #alpha