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writeyouin · 2 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Misery Loves Company

A/N – Okay, so for anyone who loves Stand-up comedy as much as I do, I highly recommend you watch Daniel Sloss’ tour, Dark. That’s his first tour, and it was where he coined the term Wanker-Anchor, which is used in this story.

Warnings – None.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy @midoria-kinnie @meesachan @fusehoundshipper @velvettenoctus @crescent-z @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @rosiescannibalwife @skylerbutterfly @hamthepan @latersgaters-steven @kryptidkova @sleepyhead-number27 @cherry-4200 @harcourtholmesii @alastorandluciferspouse @holyspacething @kedelman24 @becsmarvel @vash-yuu

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

“Whoa,” Charlie said upon seeing you.

She had seen your Demonic form before, but it was a rarity and it usually meant that you weren’t doing well mentally.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sucking in air through her teeth, her voice pitching high, indicating that she already knew the answer but didn’t want to point out the obvious in case it upset you further.

“I’m fine,” You answered shortly.

“Really? Because you uh, well,” Charlie twisted her hands back and forth, “You uh, you look a little- I mean, hey, I think you’re beautiful inside and out but when you’re like this it usually means- It’s normally-”

“You’re fucked up,” Vaggie finished for her, getting straight to the point.

“I’m fine,” You insisted, using the words everyone used when they were decidedly not fine. “Where’s Angel Dust?”

“In his room,” Vaggie explained.

“What happened? He was doing so well.”

Charlie’s eyes welled up with tears and she threw her arms around you, sobbing out an explanation, “It was my fault. I asked him about his contract, and he told me not to worry, but I did worry, and then I wanted to make sure he’d be okay when me and Vaggie go to visit Heaven, but he said he didn’t need a babysitter, and then I got Husk involved and Husk told me not to fuck with things I don’t understand, and then Valentino came-”

“Wait, Valentino came here?!” You pulled Charlie off you so you could look her in the eyes.

“Well, not exactly, but he sent his crew here and told Angel they had to film and I said no, and-”

You left Charlie and ran to Angel’s room. Both Charlie and Vaggie followed you as you pelted through the corridors. No wonder Angel had relapsed. That piece of shit Valentino had used Angel’s contract against him. As part of the deal they had made, Angel had to do any work Valentino demanded of him, and that fucking scumbag had dared to invade the one place where Angel felt safe.

Knowing Charlie, she would have pointed out that Valentino couldn’t use her property and would have to wait for Angel at the studio, but that wouldn’t matter. Valentino would play by the rules; it wasn’t really about filming at the Hotel, it was all a matter of proving that Angel belonged to him and that there was no safe place he could hide away.

Besides, even if Valentino hadn’t gotten his way at the Hotel, he would take it out on Angel the next time he was in the studio. It was a lose-lose situation, something that Hell was always too eager to provide.

When you got to Angel’s room, you paused to compose yourself. It wouldn’t help if you sounded too desperate or concerned; Angel didn’t respond well to that. It would make him blame himself for making you worry, and then he would spiral further.

You knocked on the door, “Hey Angel, it’s us. Can we come in please?”

“Go away,” Angel’s heavy accent came through the door, marking him more as Anthony than Angel Dust, though you didn’t say anything about that; there were very few people who knew his real name, and he didn’t like to be reminded of it.

For better or worse, he was Angel Dust; that was who he needed to be to survive.

You glanced at Charlie and Vaggie, then tilted your head, indicating that they should leave. Charlie hesitated until Vaggie placed a hand on her shoulder, then after an affirming nod from you, she let Vaggie lead her away.

“Come on Angel,” You said when they were gone. “It’s just me. Let me in.”

“Piss off.”

You sighed, then sat outside the door, and began talking. You didn’t have a grand speech planned, only what was on your mind, and if Angel wasn’t going to let you in, then it became a matter of letting him know that he wasn’t alone and that you wouldn’t abandon him, though you would respect his space.

“I get it. Valentino fucked with you. He love-bombed you, and that didn’t fucking work because you’re stronger than he is and you’re not going to fall for his shitty manipulation tactics. Now, he’s sending his goons here. It’s all just another one of his games, Angel. Don’t let him win.”

There was no response. You stayed quiet for a minute then were struck with a thought; misery loves company.

“Hey, I also kind of feel like shit today, you know? I kept thinking about Hell and… a lot of things. I told Charlie’s dad how I died. That was fucked up.”

Again, there was no response, but you thought you heard Angel shuffle closer to the door. Until that evening, nobody had heard anything about your mortal life, and now you were talking about it for the second time.

“I was murdered for a snuff film. I still have nightmares about it.”

There was a bluntness to your tone. Although it hurt to state the memory aloud again, albeit in less detail, you decided not to put too much thought into it. If your death could help someone, well, there had to be some good in bringing it up.

You stared at the peeling red wallpaper across from you, just so you had something to focus on. “I’m terrified that one day, I’m gonna walk down the street and see the guys that killed me. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Call them out? They’re in Hell, that’s punishment enough, right? Will they find it funny to see me again? Find new ways to hurt me?”

I honestly don’t know what I want in this scenario. I don’t want them to die, ‘cos then they’ll be here, but if they live, they’ll do this to other people. Kidnap them, sell them to the highest bidder, film it for the black market. I dunno… I’ve been here for a year, and I keep thinking about that.”

The door opened and you fell back, looking up at Angel’s concerned face.

“That’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”

He lifted you up, setting you right with two arms, while the other two brushed you off.

“So… this is you?” He asked, taking in your rag-doll appearance.

You laughed and imitated his voice, your Demonic abilities kicking in to mimic him perfectly, “I can be anything you want, bay-by.”

“That’s the hottest you’ve ever sounded.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You waved him off blasély. “Just let me in, okay? I can help.”

“So, uh, with the voice, and the-” Angel gestured at your new look, moving his hands in a circular motion, “Can you uh- Be other people?”

“I don’t know,” You said slowly, looking at your hands, “Never tried.”

You concentrated for a moment, trying to transform back to your original self. Usually, it was effortless. Yet, as you stared at the stitches that bound you together, you found it difficult to do more than revert to your original skin colour. Seeing that beneath the stitches was somehow worse, so you stopped trying to change, accepting that for now, you were a ragdoll.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Fuck it. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”

You caught sight of Angel’s precious pet pig. Scooping him up into your arms and cuddling him, you cooed in a baby voice, “Besides, you still love me, don’t you Fat Nuggets, yeeeees, precious baby.”

Sitting down on Angel’s bed, you looked up at your friend, deciding that it was better not to let the difficult conversation wait and fester.

“Soooo…” You scratched Fat Nuggets behind the ear, “Charlie told me that you relapsed. Wanna talk about it?”

Angel sighed and flopped back onto the bed so he was lying next to you, his legs planted on the floor.

He dragged two hands over his face, the other two lay despondently over his stomach.

“I- It was just such a shitty day, and Val sent those pricks here, not that they could fill any holes. Wrong kind of pricks, you know?” He half laughed, but it died when he realised the joke wasn’t funny in such a shitty situation.

Still, you smiled at him. When Angel was sad, he didn’t always need someone to sympathise with him. He needed to see that you weren’t going to change and start treating him differently. Sometimes that meant just listening, but other times it meant making the meanest jokes you could think of and laughing at how horrible everything was.

You were his Wanker-anchor, chaining him to reality by being a dick; Husk was the best at it, but seeing as he was nowhere to be found, Angel had you instead.

“Here,” Angel held up a small sealed bag, with his stash in it. So, he hadn’t relapsed after all. He’d just come very close.

“No thanks,” You joked, “I’m full from all the crack I had at breakfast.”

Angel got up and punched your arm, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” You took his stash, tucking it away in your pocket, then you stood up, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed, and you offered Angel your hand. “Come on.”

“What-”

“You need a distraction. So, I challenge you, Angel Dust, teach me how to dance.”

“You’re fucking kiddin’, right?”

You shook your head. “You can dance, I can’t and I’m bored. So, come on, give me some lessons. It’ll be good to get moving.”

“When you fail, can I call you a retard?”

“Fuck no. You can’t say retard anymore, what the fuck is wrong with you. You can insult the shit outta me, but keep your terms acceptable, okay?”

Honestly, Angel had thought he was up to date on what insults and trash talk were deemed acceptable, but evidently, he was wrong.

“Alright, I’ll teach you to dance, but you gotta keep me updated on all the latest slang, and what’s changed up there,” He glanced up as if he could see Earth.

“I’ve been dead a year, bud. A lot can change in that time,” You said, thinking about all the ways you were probably outdated.

Angel grabbed his phone and turned up the tunes, “Sounds like a coward’s excuse to get outta teaching.”

And so it was that you and Angel started to dance. It was nothing like his work, or when he was forced to pimp himself out in clubs as a form of ‘networking.’ Instead, it was stupid, fun, and uncoordinated with you as his partner. Christ, he had never danced with someone so terrible. You let him lead, and together, the two of you laughed at each other’s expense and forgot all about the shitty things that had happened that day.

Up in his Radio Station, Alastor grinned sinisterly. He had heard you quite clearly as he went about his business in the Hotel. You were murdered? How delightful. Victims were so easy to manipulate. Furthermore, you were a ragdoll. Oh, how wonderfully he could exploit that power.

All it would take was an invitation of friendship, a desperate situation, and an offer of assistance. When Alastor had sent Husk away on an errand earlier, he hadn’t imagined it would turn out so wonderfully.

Now, there was a new piece on the chessboard, and Alastor was determined to capture you as his pawn.

Your soul would be his.

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inkymoonbunny · 21 days

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Astarion x Tav Fic Recs

These are just some of my favorites! <3 Mix of during game and AUs

Epistles of Saints & Sinners @elegantduelliste - Soulmate Marks AU during game. Astarion recognizes Tav’s soulmate mark, it matches his own, but he's not going to tell her that; he can't have a soulmate, it's just one more thing Cazador has stolen from him. Tav is just as drawn to Astarion, but her own history has left her guarded and wary of being vulnerable. Elle’s writing of the push and pull of their relationship is breathtaking and heart-wrenching. Matching a bard Tav, Elle's prose takes on a lyrical quality and her use of imagery is unparalleled.

The House of Astarion by Throckmorton420 - Labyrinth AU post-Elderbrain. Ascended Astarion lost interest in conquering Faerun once he came across the Labyrinth, it's much more his style anyway. Stealing Tav’s violin, he offers her a deal: solve his Labyrinth and he'll return her violin and grant her a wish. Realizing this is her opportunity to reconnect to the Weave, Tav agrees. Did I mention goostarion? Because there's goostarion! This fic is filled with mischief, whimsy, and so much heart.

Fools' Work @semper-draca - Pre-Tadpole AU. Cazador has sent his spawn after a mysterious box and luckily for Astarion, his latest target happens to have a lead. It should be easy to seduce her and steal the prize! Too bad she’s not as naive as Astarion believes. This mercenary Tav is perceptive and delightfully unhinged that makes her a great matchup for a scheming Astarion.

When the Dawn Breaks… @harcourtholmesii - set during game. Before Astarion was turned, he ignored his family’s disapproval of a Drow lover. Two hundred years later, Lavender has found the lover she grieved and believed dead. Astarion brushes away her questions but still sweeps her off her feet. He can’t believe his luck in finding a target that presumably knows him, one easy to lure back when he so desperately needs to keep in good graces with his master.

Until You @bloodinwine - Post-Elderbrain with modern world AU flavor. Effy thought Astarion needed a friend more than a lover, so now here they are as roommates and definitely not hopelessly in love pining after one another. Effy struggles to fight her way free of self-destructive tendencies and be the person Astarion needs her to be. This Tav is a loveable hot mess! I have never wanted to take a character by the shoulders and shake them so badly, thank you June for spinning Effy into the world.

Lacunae @karinamay - Series set during game. Tav was once Astarion’s target, but she slipped away. Upon meeting after the Nautiloid crash, she remembers but Astarion does not. This is the one that inspired me to start writing again. It’s sweet and heartbreaking and deliciously spicy!

Pour One Out @aevallare - Modern AU/1000 years post-Elderbrain. A spinoff from the much loved and fandom favorite Kindred featuring an anxious Auri that doesn't remember her past life and a tailor Astarion that's in awe of finding his love again. This is an Astarion that's had centuries to heal from his ordeal with Cazador, one that's been able to flourish in freedom. Astarion gets his chance to be a hero for Auri this time around. Aevallare's characterization of Astarion is absolutely unmatched.

All these fics are ongoing so you must be patient, but DO give them a read and the authors some love/kudos/comments!

#fic recs #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #fanfic #bg3 #astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #fanfic rec #epistles of saints and sinners #The House of Astarion #Fools' Work #When the Dawn Breaks...#Until You #Lacunae #pour one out

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kokorodachidanii · 2 years

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Casino Miniboss OTPs

Tipsy Troop: Rum and Whiskey each get a Blaze Brother to themselves, Martini is too busy trying to keep the Booze Bros in line to care about men

Chips Bettigan and Pirouletta may or may not be already married (domo arigatou, HarcourtHolmesII)

Stickler’s totally crushing on Mr Wheezy

Pip and Dot are apparently already canon (they’ll always be siblings to me tho 😅)

Hopus Pocus and Chauncey “Psycarrot” Chantenay are rivals who kiss sometimes

Phear Lap x T-Bone. Gay Skeletons. Enough said.

As for Mangosteen and Mr Chimes... I honestly don’t see ’em with anyone else 😅😅😅

#cuphead #pirouchips #stickler x mr wheezy #phear lap x t-bone #mangosteen x mr chimes #magic carrot #domino ding dongs whom I love and adore #8-ball bastard whom I did not know I loved and adored until now #shitpost

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okyverlo · 2 years

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Yeah, I’ve been putting this off, because I hate the movie.

Hello my Dears and Darlings; shall we rant?

The Leipzig/Halle Airport battle.

There is a lot that I just don’t like or get with this confrontation. Just so much that doesn’t make sense to me.

Scott’s presence for example.

Maybe it’s because I’m not an American who was raised on the whole ‘Captain America is always right’ malarkey, but I just do not get how Scott could drop everything -especially Cassie- without asking questions.

I mean, sure, it’d probably be super flattering to receive a call for help from such a prominent social figure, but I don’t see how Scott, after all he’s gone through, would accept that so blindly.

Also, I don’t care that Scott has an electrical engineering degree; there is no way he would actually know what all wires he was pulling out in the suit did. He might have an idea, sure, but given how protective over the suits Tony is, there is no way Scott found schematics of the suits or anything like that, and we know from the second Iron Man movie that the suits are near impossible to copy well.

Scott might have had an idea of what he was doing, but he didn’t know. And with Tony is mid-air with random wires being pulled, it could have just as easily been Iron Man with the broken spine.

Another thing that baffles me is Natasha’s actions.

First of all; why the hell did she invite T’Challa? For what was supposed to be talking the rogues down?

No, no, no, no. T’Challa was full on murder kitten and wasn’t backing down for anything at that point. He wasn’t even hiding just how down for murder he was. Natasha either knew exactly what she was risking by bringing T’Challa into the airport and didn’t care OR she truly thought that T’Challa was going to be docile and obedient and she is bad at reading people.

*Looks back at previous rants, and at future rants*

Continuing on-

I also just don’t get her reasoning for letting Steve and Bucky go.

“They weren’t going to stop.”

Then ... you stop them? Do your job and detain them, to make sure that they won’t be able to hurt anyone else. You had them at literal widow bite-point.

You could have stopped them.

But I guess ‘Captain America is always right.’

Though, on the topic of utter bull, let’s get on to everyone’s favourite self-warning, Wanda!

We see her powers are once more fully under her control, not a flicker of inability when throwing a bunch of cars at Tony, or hauling Natasha into a shipping container.

Like, bitch, yes Clint was pulling his punches. Because he didn’t want to seriously fight a friend/chosen sister, especially when Natasha wasn’t trying to death fight him either.

Like, I am mad at all of Team Cap, but Wanda especially.

Because this entire movie once more reinforces the idea that she can do whatever the hell she wants because she has powers.

And, you know, that’s terrifying.

Because we -yet again- never see her apologising for anything.

Sure, she shows regret here and there, but not one single apology.

But then, following the star spangled man, I shouldn't be surprised.

Because despite what Steve says, Tony didn’t go to the airport looking for a fight.

Tony has had the airport evacuated yes, but he arrives and immediately starts to talk.

If Tony had wanted to, the suit easily has enough armament to have killed Team Cap from a distance before they even knew he was there.

But Tony revealed his presence, approached and tried to talk. Tony even forces himself to calm down when he starts to raise his voice, because this is supposed to be a discussion, not a debate nor a duel.

And yes, Tony did have Spider-Man in reserve if things started looking heated, but Peter’s job was just to disarm Cap and web him. Peter as Spider-Man is known for non-lethal take-downs, and Tony was obviously hoping that Peter would never be needed in the confrontation. It is not Tony’s fault that Peter decided to join the fight that breaks out.

Because Steve did prepare for a fight.

The shrunken Ant Man on Hawkeye’s arrow was not spur of the moment battle choice; Scott had been planted there, waiting for Clint to shoot him to infiltrate the Iron Man armour.

Also the fact that Team Cap didn’t know the airport had been emptied but they were walking through blatantly in their uniforms?

Not only prepared for a fight, but I wouldn’t be surprised at the hope that the sight of said uniforms would cause people to draw back and leave them alone to do whatever it was they were planning.

... This movie is really what made Steve no longer a good guy for me.

Steve’s character has been on a decline for a number of films, but this one just set it in stone.

And it is because of two very specific things.

The first is the lie.

Steve, by actively choosing not to inform Tony of even the suspicion that Maria and Howard Stark had been murdered, is lying by omission.

As the saying goes, a lie by omission is still a lie.

And further, Steve kept it a secret.

“Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things.”

Steve said that knowing that Tony’s parents had been murdered, and actively didn’t tell Tony.

He scowled and glared and blamed Tony for keeping secrets, while keeping a big one of his own.

And the bunker scene shows he never planned to share it either.

He only told Tony when the evidence was already right there and Tony didn’t believe the final attempted lie.

The second is the letter.

Every line in that letter just infuriates me. Let’s break it down.

I’m glad you’re back at the compound. I don’t like the idea of you rattling around in a mansion by yourself.

The compound hadn’t been Tony’s home though. Tony had not lived there; he stepped back when the Avengers moved in, and Tony did not move with them.

And perhaps Steve didn’t know it when writing the letter, but Tony’s really the only one there right now. Rhodey’s there for physio certainly, and we can assume is staying there for ease of healing, but the compound is still all but empty.

We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine.

If by family you mean turncoats and backstabbers, I’m not surprised you think that Tony’s more deserving of that family.

But Tony’s pretty much the only Avenger left by this point; bar Rhodey and Vision, the rest of them are with Steve as far as we know

I’ve been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army.

... Wow, so Bucky means nothing huh? Steve was 25 when he went through project rebirth, so Bucky was never there right? And he never for a moment enjoyed being beloved by the people, and having a strong, beautiful woman be sweet on him, and having the respect of many powerful people yeah?

My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either.

Except you have. You let down a lot of people when you decided that the law shouldn’t apply to you.

Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't.

But why should familiarity be more important that safety?

I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry.

Maybe it’s just me, but this doesn’t feel like Steve’s saying sorry for hurting Tony, or sorry for not telling. To me, it feels like Steve is saying sorry for not realising he was only sparing himself, because it’s followed by-

Hopefully one day you can understand.

Steve is putting the responsibility of all this on Tony’s shoulders, saying Tony has to understand, that Steve has done enough and now it’s Tony’s turn to work.

I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do.

Yeah, you wish that Tony agreed with you saying the Accords were wrong.

I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should...

An incomplete statement; Tony was doing what he believed to be right.

That is an important distinction from doing what someone believes in.

Because there are people who genuinely believe in warfare, and they shouldn’t be doing what they believe in.

So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us - if you need me - I'll be there.

After what you’ve done, how can you think your presence would be a comfort?

No, just no.

That letter is not an apology.

And so, yeah, MCU’s Steve is no longer a good guy to me.

It reminds me of that old saying.

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

Honestly, sometimes Tony’s enemies seem the kinder option.

#Captain America Civil War #Third Captain America #I HATE THIS MOVIE #Captain America Civil War Part III #HarcourtHolmesII #Fixing MCU #That's It #I'm Done #I Am Free From This Movie #Not Team Cap Friendly

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wheres-my-sanity · 3 years

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We were just children pt.1

Summary: What happens if you meet your childhood best friend after 15 years again? On the other end in a nightmarish fog that only seeks to kill its inhabitants. Old wounds get reopened and scars show. But there always a change of forgiveness. You just have to take it.

Pairing: Felix Richter x Élodie Rakoto

A/N: I wanted to write this since I read Élodies lore for the first time, but never had the time or motivation to do it. In this first chapter I will heavily focus on Élodies arrival. Felix will only be mentioned. The second chapter will be focused on their reunion. Also I want to thank harcourtholmesii again. I hope you enjoy my story.

„Come Felix, it’s going to be fun!” “Élodie, I really think we should turn back.” “Oh, don’t be such a coward, it’s just abandoned tunnel. See, I go first, just trust me.” “O-Ok I’m coming.” “See, as long as we are together nothing can happen.”

Élodie woke up, tears in her eyes. The moon wash shinning on her sweaty skin. She stood up from her bed and walked out on the balcony. Another nightmare. They had become more frequently than usual. She looked down at the messy streets of Paris. Why now? Her life was going ok. A few weeks ago, the doctors came to the conclusion that Élodie had fully recovered from the loss of her parents. She had found this apartment, which, granted wasn’t really big, but it was enough. Élodie didn’t want to sit in some house, no, she wanted to explore and discover. While she had told the doctors that she just loved being outside, the only thing she really wanted was to continue the search. Her parents were somewhere out there, she just knew it.

Élodie let herself fall on her couch and thought about what she had missed. She had been at every graveyard of the city, on every dark and dusty corner, but hadn’t found anything out about the whereabouts of her parents. Where had she not looked? What did she not see? The catacombs. Unlikely, but possible. Tomorrow she would inform herself about how to get into the underground. In a week she could maybe find a guide. She would find her parents, no matter the costs.

Élodie awoke with a groaning head. Of course, the catacombs were a bust, what did she expect? Élodie expected to be either in police station or the clinic. Neither of both was the case. She was at some kind of wreck yard, as the hundreds of crushed car-piles told her. She also could make out the distant shape of a giant lodge. The whole area seemed to be surrounded by a stone wall with a metal fence on it. The place seemed forsaken. Élodie stood, wondering how the hell she got here. On her left she could some kind of giant generator. The wires of the thing seemed to reach over the whole place.

“Hello, is anybody here?” No answer. As Élodie wanted to ask again, she could suddenly feel strong hands covering her mouth and a male voice say: “If you don’t shut up, he’s gonna hear us!” As Élodie turned around she could see the face of big man with a nose that looked like it has been broken more then once. Suddenly Élodies heart began to beat loud and fast. Apparently, the man seemed to feel the same. He gestured to come with him. Since Élodie had no idea where she was and the man seemed really worried, she decided to follow him. The man leaded her to a pile of tires where he hid behind. Élodie raised an eyebrow, but questioned not any further. Seconds after she hid too, a giant man, at least 2 meters high, walked by. He wore a black worker attire and long shoes, but the two most notable things on him were in his hand and on his face. A giant kitchen knife and a white emotionless mask, both covered in blood.

After a minute Élodie could feel her heart beating slower and they could see the man with the mask walk away. Just when she started to feel relieved, she could her a scream that made her flinch. The man with the broken nose cursed and then said: “Wait, here, until me or another man named Dwight return. The names David by the way.” With that he took his leave. 5 minutes later, Élodie heard another scream, this time a different one. A few seconds after she could see something huge moving on the sky. A paint breathing made her look down again. Another man approached. He had a pair of glasses and a key in his hand. And he was bleeding. A lot.

“D-Dwight?” Élodie asked nervously? The man nodded. “Where’s David?” Dwight shook his head and pointed at something behind her. Élodie turned around to see a hatch, she could have sworn wasn’t there before. The man slowly walked over to it and opened it. He waved at her, before he said: “Come.” With that he straight up jumped into it and disappeared. Before Élodie could even blink she could feel her heard beating again. She looked back only to see the man with the knife approach. Without even thinking Élodie jumped into the hatch, only to see darkness again.

When Élodie could see anything again, she could make out Dwight next to her. Magically he seemed to have stopped bleeding. They were in some kind of forest it appeared. All of the sudden Dwight rose up and began walking in a direction. Élodie sprinted after him. She chose the most obvious question first: “Who the hell was that?” Dwight seemed to be exhausted but still answered: “His name is Michael Myers, but we just call him the shape. Could you please wait with any other question until we reach the campfire?” While Élodie wanted to know where she was and how she got here, she decided to be quiet. Since this man saved her life the least, she could do was to leave him alone for a bit. After 10 minutes of walking, they reached a clearing. In the middle was, what she guessed to be the campfire that Dwight had mentioned. Around it sat around 25 people. “Hey Guys we have a new one again.” Élodie looked up to see the semi-interested looks of all of the people. “May I present to you Meg, Claudette, Jake, Nea, Laurie, Ace, Bill, Feng, Quentin, David, Kate, Adam, Jeff, Ash, Nancy, Steve, Yui, Zarina, Cheryl and… “FELIX?” Élodie shouted. “Élodie?”.

#felix richter #élodie rakoto #dead by deadlight #dbd

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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I’m just gonna leave this here~

#Cuphead #Mugman #King Dice #The Devil #HarcourtHolmesII

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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Sorry for the poor quality!

I am just going to start posting pics of any sketches I do, complete or not. Hope you like it!

#RWBY #Penny Polendina #RWBY Fanart #Sketch #HarcourtHolmesII

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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Another WIP sketch for Snake Eyes week. Day 2: Dance/Duet

And since my last post doesn't seem to be appearing under any of its tags (at least, from my perspective) here is yesterday's sketch. Day 1: First Date

#Snakeeyesweek2022 #DevilDice #King Dice #Cuphead Fanart #HarcourtHolmesII

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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Spoilers for the eleventh episode of Cuphead~ ˋ( ° ▽、° )

#Elder Kettle #The Cuphead Show!#Cuphead #Cuphead Fan art #HarcourtHolmesII

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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Sorry for the WIP's quality, but here is day 3 of Snake Eyes week: Carnival.

#snakeeyesweek2022 #DevilDice #King Dice #Cuphead Fanart #HarcourtHolmesII

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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Missing Pieces (Part I)

This is an IronQrow fanfiction, so if this is not a pair you care for, this may not be for you. I must request that you mind the tags and the warnings below, and if they are not for you, you may move on if this is not your thing.

This is an AU for these characters, which will be explained over time, and I don’t suspect this story to go on for too long? I’m not quite sure, but I wanted to write something a little different. Also, whilst this is a gift for @ironwoodprotectionsquad, this is for everyone to read! I hope you all enjoy, and do let me know what you think! I understand this opening is a little rushed, but I hope to expand upon it in future chapters!

Pairing: James Ironwood x Qrow Branwen / Others?

Words: 1943

Rating: M

Warnings: - Referenced and Heavy Mentions of Death - Mentions of War and Violence - Trauma and Depression - Grieving and Not Coping with Grief - Character Death

It was a soft, chirping sound that awoke James from his restless slumber.

Images of the battlefield, bloodied and chaotic and loud, faded out and his little room blinked into existence. A quick glance at his bedside table revealed that it was his scroll’s generic ringtone that had intruded his nightmares. The light was blinding in the dark of his room, and a quick glance to his window revealed the outside world to be just as dark as when he had fallen asleep.

Beneath the caller ID, one Pietro Polendina, read the time of 4:43am.

Three and a half hours, at best.

Despite the rude awakening, it was not an unwelcome interruption. Every hour he spent sleeping, were days spent on the frontline; under heavy gunfire and fighting off the hardened paws, tusks and teeth of the monstrous grimm.

He did not keep Pietro waiting.

He flicked the scroll’s screen, watching as Pietro’s image appeared in the static. He really needed to replace this thing.

‘Good morning, Pietro.’

‘Mister Ironwood?’

That was not Pietro’s voice. In fact, it was a small, shy voice he hadn’t heard in some weeks. Normally bubbly and filled with sweetness, the tone was somber; afraid, even. James was up in a moment, already shucking on a nearby shirt and pants.

‘Penny? Honey, what’s wrong?’ He could hear her voice gasp softly into the phone, stifled only by her hand. Try though she might, he could hear how she sobbed softly into her palm. ‘Speak to me. I’m here.’

‘I-It’s papa…’

Shit.

‘What happened?’

‘H-He… I heard him c-coughing and I w-went to see if he w-was okay… He... He’s not oka-... H-Help me… P-Please, mister Ironwood…’

The scroll had fallen from her hand with a soft clatter against the floor. James kept his own scroll to his ear, hurrying to put on his boots. He raced down the stairs, snatching his keys off the kitchen counter and raced outside without a second thought.

‘Penny, you need to listen to me.’ He hopped into his car, turning on the ignition with a throttled groan from the older engine. ‘I’m on my way. I need you to shut off the call and contact the hospital, okay? They’ll tell you what you need to do in the moment, and until they get there, just follow their instructions. I’ll be there as soon as I can, honey.’

‘W-What if he’s-?’

‘Don’t think like that. Not now, okay? Call the hospital first. Message me if you get in the ambulance, otherwise, I’ll meet you at home, okay?’

‘O-Okay…’

‘Good. You’re doing fantastic, Penny. Call the hospital. I’ll see you soon.’

He waited for her to shut off the scroll before he replaced his own on the dash. The streets of Mantle were covered in thin, treacherous ice sheets and despite his efforts, he was forced to slow down for the drive to the Polendina household. It was across the city from his own townhouse, a frustrating drive between labyrinthian streets and areas of construction.

In his mind, he prayed.

‘Please let Pietro be alright. Please let his daughter be okay. Please let me be there for them both.’

~X~

Another anniversary, and another long drive to the cemetery in total silence.

James chanced a glance over at his goddaughter, her gaze focused on nothing outside of the sleet-covered window. In the week leading up to the anniversary and for a couple of weeks after, Penny was almost always silent. It was just that much worse, now that it would be the last visit they could make before moving day.

Looking after Pietro’s daughter had put a strain on James’ funds, not that he cared too much, but it meant that looking after her (with the neighbours already suspicious of her ageless nature) was putting a strain on their living conditions. Staying in Mantle, on his pension, and working a dead-end job signing paperwork for the council, was not enough to support his efforts and the care required to look after her.

Instead, he had been offered a teaching position in his search for a new career path. He still had his degree in education, years of military experience and certificates in robotics and history studies to make him rather overqualified for the position. And it was an offer that had been hard to refuse.

He had applied for several different teaching positions, really just putting himself out there so that he might reel in a call for an interview. Even better, he had a letter written to him by the vice-principal of Signal Academy, offering him a well-paid position with paid leave and a few other, kinder benefits. The greatest downside, however, and what made him the most hesitant, was the location.

Signal Academy was not located in Mantle.

It was nowhere near their home.

And it was nowhere near Pietro.

James glanced over at Penny again. She was not crying. Tears were saved for the cemetery itself and the privacy of her own bedroom. Despite his efforts to speak to her about it, she struggled to trust him with her stress and worries.

He knew she needed the time to herself. And this day, he was not going to push it.

She needed this.

Penny may have accepted going to Vale; a change of scenery and the start of a new life away from Mantle. But she wasn’t necessarily happy about the change. The few friends she had would be left behind, and unlike James who had once been to Vale, she was entering a world she had never once stepped foot into.

It was a scary, new experience.

He pulled up to the cemetery gates and she opened the door silently. She slipped out of the car, not waiting for James to catch up, and entered through the wrought iron gates. The gardens were silent this day, too cold for others to dare go outside. Unlike James, whose metal joints screeched and burned his flesh in the cold, Penny’s own machinery was quiet, and she didn’t even shudder in the snow.

James followed behind her for a time, stained glass memorials and carved ice gravestones passing them by as they headed through the grounds. When they approached the small, slab of black ice, James stood back. He let her kneel before it, her knees just an inch short of touching the gravestone. The light of the sun reflected against carvings into the ice, allowing one to read the name ‘Pietro Polendina’ in it’s otherwise smooth surface.

Flowers would die too quickly in the chill of Atlesian winter. Instead, Penny had brought a small, metal-framed photograph of her first birthday. To anyone else, they wouldn’t guess that she was only a year old in the image; already with a full head of bright orange hair and a perfect posture beside her father, standing just a little taller than him in his wheelchair.

She knelt before the gravestone and quietly began to speak to him as if he were there, right beside her now.

James didn’t dare step closer.

He allowed her to talk, discuss, question and then turn silent. Even when she started to weep, James didn’t approach. He would have liked nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her close. Promise her that everything would be alright. Apologise to her and take back his acceptance to work in Vale so that she might stay here with her father.

But his presence was not the comfort she needed.

Who she needed, and who they both so dearly missed, was no longer here.

~X~

Two weeks since their final goodbyes to Pietro, and the two of them were sitting at a small table in their new home.

A small bungalow on the outskirts of Vale was their new house; a lot of their furniture still waiting to be put together and most of their possessions still waiting to be put away. Small perhaps, it could be homey with a little effort. Penny had once expressed delight in putting it together with him, making the house a home for the both of them.

However, since they had arrived in Vale two days previous, neither of them had felt motivated to really put anything together. James had taken on the brunt of the work, putting together the dining room table and beds, making sure they were connected to the internet and the phone lines were working. He didn’t mind Penny’s reluctance, but he did care about her quiet demeanour.

He would give anything to see her smile again.

And for it to be a real smile.

He peered over his bowl of ramen, Penny’s fingers skirting around on the surface of the table; drawing invisible images against it’s polished sheen. She didn’t need to eat like him or anyone else, but she sometimes liked to try. She could feel and smell and take joy in certain sounds just like everyone else, and on rare occasions, she would eat something small with him.

What she had come to enjoy had fallen to the wayside.

He just didn’t know what to do.

James had dealt with grief many times, but his way was quick and rather cruel. Being on the battlefield for so long, James was forced to put the lives lost behind him to continue on. Even now, he still did it. He loved Pietro like he was family; if it wasn’t for his genius, James wouldn’t be alive today.

But unlike Penny, he couldn’t quite sympathize in the same way.

He cared; he did. But grieving and breaking down was not something he could openly do anymore. It had been all but driven out of him over years of lonely nights and military training.

He cleared his throat softly, Penny’s jade eyes glancing up from the table.

Now that he had her attention…

…

… He wasn’t sure what to say.

‘A-Are you looking forward to school?’

The tension in her shoulders dropped, her widened eyes blinking and slipping back to the table. Apparently what she had been drawing into the table wasn’t right because she lightly swiped her hand across its surface, erasing any and all invisible lines.

‘I guess...’

‘Well, that’s… Good.’ A beat of silence between them. He really wasn’t sure how to talk to her sometimes; where it had once come to him so easily, now he was struggling. He, admittedly, hoped he would have far less trouble talking with the students in his classroom.

‘Did you want to try a little ramen? It has some enoki in it; you’re favourite.’ He offered her a spoon of the soup, and a small smile to go with it. She looked between the spoon and his eyes before settling back on the spoon. She plucked his discarded chopsticks (he still couldn’t quite get the hang of them with his cybernetics) and took a small helping of the enoki he offered.

A small smile graced her face as the flavour passed her lips.

‘It’s good.’

‘D-Did you want more? I can make you a bowl now, if you’d like.’

‘No, thank you.’ It was a victory, no matter how small.

‘Did you want to come with me to the shops this evening? We need to get a couple of groceries for the next week, and you can pick out something you like?’

‘Thanks but I… I think I’ll just…’

‘It’s okay.’ He rest his hand on hers, her fingers twitching but otherwise still beneath his gentle grip. ‘You can stay here if you’d like. Perhaps tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow…?’ She seemed to think about it, looking outside the nearby window. Unlike Mantle, the night sky did not fall so quickly, and the sunset between the blinds was a beautiful, bright wave of colours that she could admire.

‘I… I think I’d like that…’ James had never felt more relieved. ‘Could we… Do you t-think we could go to the park? Tomorrow, I-I mean...’

James had never felt happier.

‘Of course we can.’

#RWBY #James Ironwood #Penny Polendina #IronQrow #RWBY Fanfiction #HarcourtHolmesII

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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Missing Pieces (Part II)

This is a gift for @ironwoodprotectionsquad, and I’m so sorry I hadn’t gotten it out any sooner! I hope you enjoy, as does anyone else who chooses to read!

Pairings: James Ironwood x Qrow Branwen / Other? Words: 1719 Rating: M Warnings: - Mentions of Intrusive Thought - Mildly Referenced Death - Depression and Anxiety

~X~

‘It’s really nice here…’ That voice, so soft it was almost a whisper, was a relief to James after such a long period of silence.

Since they had left the house that morning, Penny hadn’t said a word; simply taking in the suburban streets and the morning skies. Her quiet demeanor, though hardly new, was still something that worried James deeply. Without her words, he struggled to understand how she might be feeling, and whether she really was okay with this trip to the park.

The morning had been chilly, but not uncomfortably so for two people who had previously resided within Mantle’s walls. On those occasions when the power went out and the heating system went down, even the Spring winds were known to quietly steal away the lives of people who thought they were safe in their home. The cold, as horrid and oppressive as it could be, halted machinery, froze the people to their core and made it next to impossible to repair fractures to Mantle’s walls.

During the cold nights, the Grimm were closer than ever beyond the walls.

In Vale though, the chill of Spring was little more than a slight sting when feet met cool tile, or that first shudder when one stepped outside. In Vale, the sun was a golden light and not seemingly so distant as it could be in Mantle. In Spring, flowers actually grew, and the fields, gardens and towering trees bloomed with a rich green sheen.

After a good hour outside, having walked the perimeter of the park and then sat down on a nearby bench, Penny had finally broken her silence. Perhaps it had been the sight of children playing on the nearby playground or the sound of their laughter and their parents’ chatter, but something had finally soothed Penny.

Having her relaxed was a relief to James; as he was utterly out of his depth with how ‘normal’ people or more emotional people, like Penny, handled their grief.

‘Enjoying it?’

‘It’s pretty.’ She hummed, plucking a feather off of the pavement by her feet. She swiped it under her chin and giggled lightly at the ticklish sensation. ‘I haven’t even heard birds before now. It’s nice.’ The peeping of some finches overhead just proved her point; James hadn’t even noticed that Mantle was missing many birdsongs until now.

‘Heads up!’ The call came slightly too late, as with a sudden ‘THWAK!’ Penny’s head snapped to one side with the sudden hit. A ball bounced off the side of her head, leaving half of her fiery, orange hair splayed out and frizzy from the contact. She blinked once, twice, and the slight shutters over her optics fluttering open and shut to adjust to the sudden touch.

‘Penny!’ James was in front of her at a moment’s notice, kneeling down in front of her and resting a hand gently against the attacked side of her head. ‘Honey, are you alright?’ He knew she couldn’t really feel pain, not in the same way as humans at least, but she seemed stunned. A slight system shock to the sudden contact of that offensive plaything.

‘I-… I’m fine…’

‘I’m so sorry!’ A young girl cried. From first appearance, she would seem about the same age as Penny appeared. She was dressed all in black save with some accents of ruby red, including one long, hooded cloak.

Behind her another girl, a friend perhaps, was just catching up to the scene. Long, wild golden hair whipped about in the wind, and hand outstretched to rest on the first child’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I swear! It was an accident!’ An unstoppable tirade turned distressed word vomit was only halted by the second girl’s interjection.

‘Ruby!’ The first girl was silenced.

James didn’t pay them much mind, worried about how Penny was responding. She seemed too stunned to speak, to even comprehend what had happened. James eyed the ball where it had stilled by the bench’s leg, affronted by the trouble it had caused. An intrusive thought did enter his head of returning the favour, but he shook it away and out of his head.

Just an accident. It was a simple accident, and they did apologise.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

Penny nodded her head, holding his hand where it rested against her cheek. She pulled it away and James knew he had overstayed his welcome when it came to contact, watching her smooth down her hair and blink. She was still adjusting.

‘I’m so sorry…’ The first girl, ‘Ruby’s’, words were but a whisper.

‘My sister didn’t mean it. We just kind of got into it and we couldn’t catch it before-’

‘It is fine.’ James sighed, running his fingers deep into the corners of his eyes. He breathed, standing and turning to look at the two girls properly. Something about him, his height perhaps, must have made them uncomfortable. Ruby had stepped back, and her sister had stepped in front of her slightly, arm out in front of her.

James did have a face that constantly went to rest in a mildly pissed expression; it could be he was unintentionally shooting them his most furious glare and he didn’t even realise.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie awkwardly, not really sure what he could say to ease their nerves. The younger of the two had stopped looking at him and had turned her gaze to Penny. He stepped in front of her, protective and admittedly frustrated. The first time since they had been to Vale and his goddaughter had been hurt, even if it was a mild ‘injury’.

‘What’s going on here?’ A new voice drew James’ blue eyes up to glare at the stranger. Just how many people were going to start inserting themselves into his and Penny’s space?

The character in question was perhaps their father; it certainly seemed evident on Ruby’s part. He had carmine eyes, and dark, messy hair, slicked back with natural oil. His appearance, lazily put together, seemed relaxed despite the almost threatening tone to his voice. Something about him struck James as familiar, not that he could pinpoint exactly what that thing was.

‘Uncle Qrow…’ The younger of the two sniffled, her eyes tearing up at the edges. ‘I didn’t mean to…’

‘I just hit the ball to hard.’ The blonde pulled up her hand, revealing reddening knuckles from where she had apparently punched the offending toy. ‘Ruby didn’t catch it and it, well…’

‘So it hit you?’ He pointed at James with an amused smirk but a growl in his voice. Had it actually hit him, James wouldn’t have been so frustrated. But it hadn’t.

‘N-No…’ Penny’s soft voice flitted out from behind James, and she poked her head around to stare up at the stranger. ‘Qrow’ cocked a brow, looking between James and Penny for a few seconds before his mind seemed to catch up with what he saw. A moment of understanding passed over his face and he smiled at Penny.

‘I-It hit me…’

‘I can see that.’ He turned an apologetic glance up to James and then stepped forward, leaning down so he was about eye level with Penny. ‘My nieces didn’t mean it. They never would hurt someone as sweet as you.’ He teased, causing Penny’s face to brighten ever so slightly. Her cheeks had started turning a soft blue which had caused this man to furrow his brow in some confusion.

‘I’m sorry that your daughter got hurt.’

‘She’s not my-’ Penny had receded back against the bench, pulling in on herself at Qrow’s words. Qrow winced slightly, realizing his mistake and straightened himself out. Both girls cringed in sympathy for their uncle’s reasonable slip.

‘She’s my goddaughter. We’ll be fine.’ James turned back to Penny, offering his hand to her. Hesitantly, she took it and slipped off the bench. She stood beside him, shying away from the strangers and keeping herself out of sight. ‘Did you want to head home, Penny?’

‘Uh…’ Qrow had stepped forward, only stopping when James levelled him with a stern glare. He didn’t want her any more uncomfortable than what she probably was, and the attention might have been too much.

‘Let us make up for it, right girls?’ Both of them nodded their heads in turn. ‘Are you new here?’

‘Yes.’

‘W-Well…’ Qrow seemed unsure how to actually ‘make up’ for the accident and the following slip. He turned to his girls for some help, the blonde one speaking up at last.

‘You could come over for dinner! Our dad cooks an amazing roast and we rarely end up finishing it.’ She suggested. Her uncle seemed to relax slightly now that his niece had come up with a plan. ‘Plus, uh… Ruby! She has a large hoard of collectibles that she’s been dying to show off. Perhaps, if you would like to, Penny…? Y-You could come over?’

James looked down at his goddaughter, and how her eyes flicked back and forth, unsure what to do. Finally, she looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded her head ever so slightly. James smiled, resting a hand against her orange hair and soothed it between his fingers.

‘Only if it is not any burden to you.’

‘We wouldn’t have offered if it was!’ Qrow had responded, relieved and delighted. Ruby had skipped her way over to Penny and stopped short of hugging her. Instead, she outstretched her hand awkwardly in an offer to shake it, laughing slightly at Penny’s rigid movements.

‘Can I have your number?’ James took out his scroll, turning it over to the girls’ uncle and allowing him to put in the number. Finally, he passed it back, smirking at him and giving him a wink that caused something warm to blossom in James’ chest. ‘We’ll text you the address. Come by at 7pm, and we’ll have everything ready, mister…?’

There was an awkward silence between them both as James had realised he hadn’t given his name. He offered his non-cybernetic hand, which Qrow took easily. The touch, even through the gloves, caused his hand to start tremoring.

‘James. James Ironwood.’

Something had fired off in Qrow’s head because his smirk twisted into a wry grin and there was an awkward chuckle.

‘No shit.’

#RWBY #James Ironwood #Penny Polendina #Qrow Branwen #Ruby Rose #Yang Xiao Long #IronQrow #RWBY Fanfiction #HarcourtHolmesII

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harcourtholmesii · 2 years

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We Can Withstand It All

Hey, so this is my first IronQrow story / my first RWBY fanfic. This is a gift for @ironwoodprotectionsquad and I only hope that I have done right by this pair and especially James Ironwood. PS. Those that may not like this pair or either character, please, I must request that you respectfully mind the tags/warnings and you may move on if this is not your thing. Thank you for reading! Warnings: - Mentions of Surgery - Referenced Physical and Emotional Trauma - Panic Attacks - Self Doubt and Self Hatred

~X~

‘Have you ever been sober in your life?’

There was a muffled growl into a glass of hard, copper whiskey. The already hunched form of the bar’s lone patron only seemed to shrink in on himself at James’ words. It may not have been so miserable a sight, if it hadn’t been the third time that day the frustrated huntsman had been caught drinking.

James sighed, releasing the tension in his shoulders; he took a few, unsteady steps towards the bar and sat beside Qrow. He allowed the newly crafted weight on his right side to settle and beckoned the staff over to order his own drink and a refill. They were quick to leave them alone once his order was met, seemingly uncomfortable with the dangerous frequenter in grey.

‘I’m shocked.’

‘Hm?’ James hummed, taking a swig of his bourbon and grimacing at the burn. His body, still fresh since the surgery, was recovering from the stress and pain that accompanied the new prosthetics. Everything hurt, but he soldiered through it, like he did most things.

‘I expected you to grab me by the collar and haul me outta here. It’s not like you to encourage my bad habits.’

‘Please.’ James chuckled. ‘If I could, I’d have dragged you away in a heartbeat. I simply don’t have the strength yet. And if you’re going to keep crawling back here anyway, I might as well have a drink too. Once you're ready to make a drunken scene, I’ll be sure to guide you home before you embarrass yourself.’

A smirk tugged at the corner of Qrow’s thin lips, but his carmine eyes remained locked on the ice in his glass. James turned to face him a little more, his right leg grazing Qrow’s knee. Perhaps it was the cool of the metal beneath, but Qrow flinched away, his brows crossed and his throat tightening at the sensation. James didn’t press further, not daring to cross a line and make Qrow even more uncomfortable than what he already was.

‘It’s not your fault, you know.’

Qrow’s grip on his glass tightened, causing the skin of his palm and knuckles to turn as white as snow.

‘You’re an idiot if you think that… This isn’t my fault.’ Qrow had turned, gesturing his hand up and down in James’ direction. ‘It’s because of me your like this.’

James felt a migraine beginning to stir; a heavy pressure building up in the back of his head and beginning to hammer against his brain. As if in response to Qrow’s claim, the line of flesh that the cybernetics were wound through started to ebb with a growing pain. James hadn’t much liked the thought of replacing pieces of him when it had first been brought to his attention.

The knowledge that part of him was gone forever… It seemed at first to be a dream. When he could feel his arm and leg despite there being nothing to move, he had imagined he could will them back onto his body. That if he shut his eyes tight enough and willed it all away, perhaps those phantom pieces would return to him, and he could walk out of the hospital that very first day.

The weeks he spent in hospital, constantly under the harsh white lights and the analyzing gaze of surgeons, he had pleaded for it to be over. He had prayed to someone, anyone that could hear, that he wake up normal.

Instead, his condition had gotten worse. It had been touch-and-go, his organs constantly under risk of failure, as the right half of his torso had also been mangled on his mission. The doctors had to bring him back several times over the course of those long weeks, informing him how he needed the prosthetics. He needed them to live and to continue on.

Since he had finally given in, James had come to realise that, despite their unsightly appearance, once dressed in his uniform, he appeared much like how he used to. He found that, despite the pain, if he thought to raise his hand or take a step, the limb could physically accomplish the task. The advancement of cybernetics, especially the work of one Pietro Polendina, had been a godsend. Despite the many months that laid ahead of him of odd exercises and general recovery, the thought of walking again, unimpeded, and even returning to huntsman duties, fuelled him onwards.

Breaking the news to his friends and colleagues had been hard. Ozpin had accepted it all with ease, taking it in a stride that only a man with his centuries of experience could. Glynda had been shaken, but the longer they had spoken, the more she had come to relax. It was not so touchy a subject, and she smiled and laughed and they fell into a routine that only two fellow Atlesian huntsman could.

Qrow, however…

‘It isn’t your fault, Qrow. What happened that day was just bad-.’ Qrow’s glare caught James’ words. Shit…

‘What I mean to say is, whether your semblance was the cause or not, it doesn’t matter. Certainly not anymore.’

There was a shatter of glass, Qrow’s grip having finally been enough to splinter the round lip of the glass. There were tears in his beautiful eyes, and as James reached towards him, the huntsman shrugged him off and stood up.

‘Of course it fucking matters!’ He jutted a thumb into his own chest, glaring down at James through the tears. ‘I’m what made this happen. Instead of skin you’re all metal. I’ve ruined your career in the Atlesian military and you can’t even fight anymore!’

‘Qrow-.’

‘No! James, I can’t…’

James’ heart froze in his chest. He was on his feet in moments, taking a gentle grasp of Qrow’s shoulders with his hands, trying to still his partner’s sudden panic.

‘I need you to listen to me. I know you hate to do it, and I’m a bore, but this is important.’ Those clouded, red eyes met James’ own at last. ‘What has happened to me is not your fault. It isn’t. You didn’t intend for me to fall into Watt’s trap. Correct?’

Qrow shook his head. James continued.

‘The damage done, that wasn’t you. Do you understand? Watt’s machine was what hurt me. You got me out before it got any worse. You got me out before he could finish the job.’

‘B-But your arm… Your leg…’

‘I’ve still got one of each in flesh. And besides, in only a few months I’ll have adjusted enough that I can return to the field.’ He raised his right hand, and with Qrow’s eyes fixated on it, removed the glove. He flexed his new ‘muscles’, revealing the silver chassis beneath, and the glow of neon blue that ran between the joints of his wrist and knuckles.

‘Qrow… Do you think less of me, just because of this?’

‘Fuck no, James. You know I don’t-.’

‘Then you need not treat me any different. Qrow, I can walk. I can move and soon I will be able to fight. It is because of you I have that chance. It is because of Pietro and the doctors I can still channel my aura and return to the field.’

He raised his new hand up, offering his palm to Qrow. It took a moment before the broken huntsman raised his own, cautious hands to James’ limb. He took James’ hand gently, a noticeable tremor in Qrow’s usually relaxed grasp.

‘It’s cold.’

‘I’m cold.’

Qrow swallowed down the dryness in his raw throat. He continued to test the waters, gently pressing his fingers into the casing.

‘Can you feel this?’

‘Yes.’ James’ fingers wrapped around Qrows, his grasp gentle. He leaned in closer, and Qrow seemed to relax. ‘I can feel your touch. It’s not the same, but I can still feel how warm you are.’ There was the softest blush that intruded upon Qrow’s skin, and James reveled in it.

‘Oh, shut it.’

‘Do I make you uncomfortable, Qrow?’

‘I… No... No, you don’t.’

‘Could you love a man like me?’

‘That… That never changed, James. I could never stop.’

‘Good.’ James leaned forward once more. He pressed a gentle kiss to his love’s warm cheek. Chaste yet sweet. James felt his own body about ready to collapse from relief. In fact, he had started to lean into Qrow, his body in desperate need of rest after searching for the man in Mantle’s local bars.

‘James?’

‘Sorry. I’m still getting used to it. I just… I was scared, Qrow. I- I thought you wouldn’t want me.’

Qrow shut him up. With a proper kiss this time; the lock of lips a sensation that they had missed over the many weeks of James in hospital. When Qrow pulled away, James felt his lips cool in the ever-present Atlesian Winter air. He felt disappointment tug at his heart, but Qrow’s shaky smile helped to warm the chill.

‘I love you, Colonel Ironwood.’

A laugh escaped James’ lips. The first Qrow had heard in weeks.

‘And I love you, Professor Qrow Branwen.’

#RWBY #James Ironwood #Qrow Branwen #IronQrow #Pro James Ironwood #HarcourtHolmesII

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