#[I’m more than meets the eye // Yang Musings]

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

oohh dreamy with simeon?? i love your writing sm

Simeon - Dreamy

Simeon x GN! reader

Prompt: Seeing their soulmate’s dreams or being able to communicate with them in their dreams.

AN: Awwe, thank you sm! <3 I hope you enjoy this one, Anon!

Warnings: None

“Won’t you please tell me your name?” Simeon’s voice calls out softly, almost as if he was afraid of frightening off whoever he was speaking to.

A disembodied laugh ghosts the vast, bright emptiness surrounding him. If this were real, goosebumps would’ve decorated his beautiful melanin skin. 

“I wish I could. But when I’m with you… I can’t seem to recall my own name.”

It’s strange, but somehow he knows exactly what you mean. There’s a feeling of oneness. When you both meet there is no separation that lies between your consciences. Where one starts, the other ends. Melding together as one with no regard to the physical limitations. 

It’s hard to remember things about himself too when he’s so immersed in your expansive presence.

“But one day, I’ll tell you. I promise on the day that we physically meet I’ll tell you everything you want to know and more.” 

-

The sunshine fills Simeon’s room with a warm glow as he blinks away the grogginess from his eyes, moving to sit up in his bed. The sound of his sheer white curtains flapping in the soft breeze catches the attention of his not quite functioning state of mind. 

He watches as the fabric flutters, casting two silhouettes to dance around his room in a perfect push and pull motion. He muses at how the shadows merge into one another- individual, but working together to create something so much greater. Like yin and yang, the sun and the moon. 

It’s not unlike what he experiences in his dreams every night. 

Though thinking back to the night before, his eyebrows knit in confusion. He didn’t leave the window open… 

“Good morning, Simeon!” 

Jumping a little, he turns to look at the smaller angel standing next to his bed.

“Ah, good morning, Luke. You startled me.”  

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Simeon laughed, waving him off. “It’s alright. How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I came in earlier to see if you were awake yet. You weren’t, so I thought opening the curtains and window would help wake you up.” 

Ah, that explains it. 

“But I made breakfast in the meantime!” A sweet aroma fills the older angel's nose as Luke holds up a plate of thick pancakes topped with more syrup than is necessary, bananas, strawberries, and blueberries, and a little swirl of whipped cream in the center. 

“Wow, Luke. This looks quite delicious.” Trying not to spill any of the contents, Simeon gently takes the plate from Luke. 

“Thank you! I figured we should have a good breakfast before heading down to the Devildom. Who knows when we’ll have a decent meal next.” 

“Oh, come now.” Simeon started, stabbing his fork into the pillowy cakes and scooping up a blueberry. 

“I’m serious, Simeon! Demons eat weird things and I will not be taking part in it. Thank-you-very-much.” Luke punctuated. 

The older angel giggled, chewing a mouth full of food. 

“Give the Devildom a chance, you might just find something you like about it.” He took another bite savoring all the wonderful flavors that melded together on his tongue. Luke was getting better in the kitchen everyday. 

“My compliments to the chef. This is really good, Luke.” He commented, pointing his fork to the plate for emphasis. 

The smaller angel smiled, a blush dusting his cheeks. “Thanks… Well, I’ll let you eat. I have to finish packing and saying my farewells. I’ll see you later, Simeon!” 

With that, he promptly turned and left, leaving Simeon alone with his thoughts and the pancakes… 

-

It had been a week after arriving to the Devildom and night after night Simeon was plagued with dreamless sleeps. The strange aura he’d come to cherish and listen to every night without fail was no longer there to greet him. Where he used to be enveloped by comfort, he now only felt emptiness. 

But Simeon had a duty to uphold as one of the Celestial realm representatives. And since today was the start of the first semester, he needed to keep his head in the game. 

The morning had gone smoothly. Breakfast was simple, but good. He and Luke had a nice stroll to campus and they navigated the halls fairly well. Arriving to their first class, he noticed a few of the demon brothers congregating around the human exchange student they had yet to meet. 

“Come on, Luke. Let’s go introduce ourselves.” Simeon motioned. The younger angel nodded and they both made their way over to you. 

Stopping a couple steps behind the brothers so as to not interrupt the current conversation, he couldn’t help but overhear you speaking. And he couldn’t bring himself to stop from listening either. 

What you were saying wasn’t important- he just needed you to keep speaking. 

Your face may be unfamiliar and not one that Simeon recognizes, but your voice has spoken to him more times than he could count. It reminded him of a warm, fuzzy blanket from the dryer on a rainy day. It was the comfort he so wished to hear every night this past week. You were the infinity that he was destined too. His beginning and his end.

You noticed him staring at you between the shoulders of the brothers, so you gently pushed them aside to say hello, but Simeon beat you to it. 

“Won’t you please tell me your name?” He spoke softly.

Your eyes slowly widened as the pieces clicked and Simeon rejoiced internally. You recognized him too... And you laughed.  

“Of course. After all, I made you a promise.”

#valentine's soulmate event #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me x mc #obey me reader insert #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #jo writes #blood moon mail

[salemdominance]

World, Rules, and Muses

A smut world where Salem realizes she doesn’t need to do things the hard way, since almost anyone she meets will beg to obey her just because she is beautiful, or can be fucked into obeying her instead.

An RP blog I have, mostly NSFW but do SFW stuff sometimes. @nahte123456 And my CYOA blog, all NSFW. https://nahtedomination.tumblr.com/

Also should have this for easy access. For quick asks. Salem's easy dominance — Memes (tumblr.com)

Got an ask, keep these in mind

Main Fetishes

Femdom, Lezdom, Futadom. Wholesome or harsh are allowed, BDSM, netorare, mind break, all those things are encouraged. Impregnation is nice, any kind of forced sex works. SadoMaso is included in all of his.

Salem does not need to be part of every ask, you can have, for instance, Ruby and Weiss getting married, or Cinder cucking Jaune, or Yang raping Kali. But they are all in the world where Salem is the leader.

Main Forbidden Fetishes

No blood, vore, breathplay, or sexual snuff/gore. I’m fine if it’s someone getting killed off screen, but not during sex, and not being sexually attractive. Also no like, nipple fucking or anything like that, "making" new holes is just a bit ewwie to me.

Main Muses

Just about anyone is possible, but here are the main ones.

Salem - She’s beautiful and in charge. She likes breeding sex, cheating sex, domination, and prefers girls or Futas. If she has a dick it’s the biggest. She loves Ruby, Yang, Cinder, and Pyrrha especially.

Ruby Rose - She falls in love with Salem at first sight, thus she always obeys. It doesn’t matter what Salem wants, it’s Salem so it is good. Thus she has no moral issues, even if she’s told to do bad things. She will freely cuck, hurt, or kill on Salem’s orders, because Salem is always right. Preference is whatever Salem commands.

Yang Xiao Long - She is more resistant than Ruby, but also more willing to be rough. She may fight back in some asks but can never truly escape Salem. No preference, but incest makes her cum easily.

Cinder Fall - She views Salem as power, so she will obey to be part of that. Loves only power, but understands sex is a powerful weapon. Prefers woman.

Pyrrha - She will never think Salem is right, but she is just as weak as anyone else. A few rounds with Salem will make her obedient, even if she knows it is wrong. Prefers dick.

Neo - Typically not one of Salem’s main girls, but she likes the power. Prefers to dom with Salem’s permission but can’t actually say no to the Queen.

Weiss Schnee - Sexually weak. She has no stamina so is easily broken and fun to play with.

Penny Polendina - machina/grimm mix, and thus customizable. Loves Ruby and Salem the most! See here!

Children

Luna Rose, eldest and strongest. She will only fully sub to her parents but might fake it for others. Looks basically like long haired Ruby with black sclera and Salem's skin.

Sunflower Xiao Long, older twin to Carnation. She's mostly a dom. She looks like Yang but with Salem's skin and the black sclera and purple irises.

Carnation Xiao Long, younger twin to Sunflower. Mostly a sub. Looks just like her twin but her irises are red.

Ash Fall, a cunning girl. She looks the most like Salem, only having her mother's hair and eyes. She likes domming but will sub to get her way.

Vanilla Politan. Is not mute, and rather chatty, besides that acts mostly like her mother. In terms of look she has Salem's skin and hair and normal sclera, her cherry red irises are the only hint of color on her. Tries to be a dom, sometimes is, mostly isn't.

Fyre Nikos. Looks almost identical to Pyrrha when she was young and hasn't inherited any of Salem's traits.

Crystal Schnee. Weiss missed the Schnee sexuality, well Crystal got nailed with it. Despite being technically the youngest her tits are 2 cups bigger than the next down, in the twins, her hips are just as huge, and when she has a cock it matches Yang's/Ruby's. She was made for sex, and understands that since Weiss is such a failure she has to use her body to make up for it. Is a sub but won't ever entirely break.

Vulcan Black. Mercury's kid, the only named man, looks mostly like a male Salem albeit he's on the smaller side. Not always a femboy but...he straddles that line, especially with how big his ass is. Acts a bit immature and insecure, subby and a bit naive, looking for approval.

Other kids theoretically exist but won't get names or anything.

Questionable Muses

Muses where I’ll do them, but with a caveat.

Jaune Arc - I get bored of Jaune easily. So I’m fine with fucking him or cucking him or whatever, but don’t expect him to be fast, especially if multiple asks are focused on him.

Blake Belladonna - I don’t hate Blake, but I don’t like her. If I write her, she is getting fucked, owned, cucked, or some such. She will not be the one owning or doing the cucking or anything.

Cardin - He’s a bitch. Even in canon he and his team are pathetically weak. You want to ask about him than fine, but remember, he is pathetic and no ask will change that.

#Muse list #alternate universe #rwby smut #salem rwby #You may DM me any questions

[pleniloon]

Hello! Could I request some headcanons about liyue boys with a powerful warrior significant other? uwu please and thank you!

Liyue’s Finest Warrior!

characters: baizhu, chongyun, xiao, xingqiu, zhongli

summary: liyue boys with a powerful warrior s/o

genre: fluff, minor crack at some points

warnings: brief mentions of fighting & injuries; not proofread

note: i saw your ask and immediately started having ideas!! <3 also, i’m super sorry for taking so long to get to this, and i really hope that you enjoy it!

⋆ impressed and a little intimidated at first

⋆ you likely ran into chongyun while hunting down evil spirits for a commission. spoiler alert: you failed the commission due to someone’s overabundance of yang energy.

⋆ after your first meeting, chongyun was quick to fear respect you and your abilities in combat! he greatly admired your strategic thinking and, of course, the way you carried out every plan you had without fail.

⋆ the moment the exorcist fell in love was likely when you saved him from an unusually stealthy mitachurl. or, maybe it was when you assisted him in training with his claymore. no, perhaps it was when you patched him up and helped him get home after he was injured during a commission?

⋆ you know how chongyun is usually very calm and composed due to having to keep his emotions in check? yeah, that goes out the window whenever someone claims your stories of epic battles are fake.

⋆ some random guy at the dock doesn’t believe that you defeated 3 lawachurls? cue chongyun standing on top of a box and passionately reenacting the fight. you had to physically drag him away from the crowd, lest he start a fight with any non-believers. he’s just proud of you, okay?

⋆ overall, 10/10 boyfriend. he’s your biggest fan once he gets over his respectful fear of you.

⋆ the way you first learned of xingqiu was something straight out of a novel, in that, you learned about him because of a novel. one that he wrote based on your most famous adventure, specifically.

⋆ one can imagine your surprise when you heard about a novel featuring liyue’s “strongest warrior” as the protagonist. it was just a coincidence that they looked and acted like you, right? the similar name was also just a coincidence, surely.

⋆ when you finally met the young author, it was not during a book signing or official guild business. you two met outside of qingce village, when you both happened upon the same treasure hoarder camp. needless to say, that initial conversation was an interesting one.

⋆ with a sequel to his first novel high in demand, xingqiu turns to you, his muse, for inspiration. he listens intently to all of your stories, watches the way you fight and effortlessly copies it down on paper, and somehow creates a version of “you” that is beloved all across teyvat.

⋆ he’ll die before admitting to it, but that paragon in his story isn’t an idealized version of you - it’s simply how you look in his eyes.

⋆ oh, poor xiao. he thought you wouldn’t be as reckless and gallant as the other mortals.

⋆ that’s what he thought, until he saw you suplex a goddamn abyss herald. he found it kinda hot ngl

⋆ now, don’t get him wrong, xiao was well aware of your reputation the first time you met in the hills of minlin. albeit mortal, you were liyue’s finest warrior, second only to the adeptus himself. tales of your victories were sung by ms. yun and stories of your travels were shared all across the nation.

⋆ i’ll skip the arduous process of courting the lovely yaksha. once you two are in a relationship, he’s more than happy to accompany you across liyue, slaying demons and monsters side-by-side. a task that he previously viewed as his penitence was now the very thing that gave him motivation to keep fighting.

⋆ is xiao protective of you? yes! you may be capable of slaying a leviathan, but you’re still human. his powerful, yet fragile, human.

⋆ the first time you protected him was probably when xiao realized that he had fallen in love. the way you turned to him with a cheeky grin as you proudly declared “one for me, two hundred for you!” as if the score ever mattered had his heart melting.

⋆ overall 3/10 sparring partner, purely because he’s scared of hurting you. you, who has walked off a tail whip from a mature geovishap like it was nothing. you, who has also gotten a concussion from falling off the bed. he can never be too careful, you know?

⋆ ah, zhongli. the warrior god who used to dominate the battlefield and make even the divine tremble in fear. his praise is the highest honor of all.

⋆ it’s quite ironic for a retired god to fall in love with a warrior in their prime, don’t you think? that is what zhongli thought, until he accompanied you on a particularly dangerous commission.

⋆ witnessing your strength, marveling at your valor - you, a mortal, somehow rendered the former archon speechless. he’s borne witness to thousands of soldiers before you, and yet, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from your fighting form.

⋆ in other words, zhongli was attracted to the way you carried yourself in battle. extra points if you’re a geo vision user; watching you so masterfully wield his element would leave him weak in the knees.

⋆ 8/10 actually quite a good sparring partner. he won’t use his full strength against you (for obvious reasons), but zhongli won’t go easy on you all the same. he has 6,000 years of experience and plans to impart as much of it as he can.

⋆ the only tales he enjoys listening to more than his own are yours. every time ms. yun preforms a play based on one of your stories, you’ll find zhongli in the front row. every time one of your stories is told at third round knockout, he’ll be there with a cup of tea in-hand and a pleased smile on his face.

⋆ 1000/10, is always there to patch you up and lightly scold you after a tough battle.

⋆ seeing as baizhu is rather fragile, your immense strength and combat prowess is rather useful when dealing with less savory customers or anyone who dares attack your party while traveling. you fight for him, he cares for you. it’s a wonderful balance that you both can appreciate.

⋆ having a relationship with baizhu means having a relationship with qiqi - whether you’re her second parent figure or just a friend, the little girl greatly enjoys your company. the sight of you two stretching or exercising together isn’t foreign to the people of liyue; she’s practically glued to your side when she’s not working or with baizhu.

⋆ one of the few things qiqi remembers is all the times you’ve “randomly” bumped into her while she’s collecting herbs in a dangerous area. you insist that you “might as well” help her, since you were in the area, anyway.

⋆ what she doesn’t need to know is that baizhu sent you to keep an eye on her. you’re the only person he trusts to protect his precious qiqi.

⋆ you and baizhu don’t often train together due to his condition, but he greatly enjoys watching you work on your technique. he’s a bit of an admirer, even if he won’t admit it. the rare times that you do spar usually end in you having to help him get somewhere more comfortable to rest, or playfully arguing over you letting him win.

a/n: i’ve never written or invested time in chongyun & xingqiu, so i apologize if they’re sort’ve ooc or poorer quality than the others!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #chongyun x reader #chongyun headcanons #xingqiu x reader #xingqiu headcanons #xiao x reader #xiao headcanons #zhongli x reader #zhongli headcanons #baizhu x reader #baizhu headcanons #pleni.writes

[writingalaxies]

Yang Tag Drop!!

#Reign supreme in your dreams || Yang #Mirror tell me who’s the loneliest of all || Weiss #Red like roses fills my dreams || Ruby #From shadows we’ll descend upon the world || Blake #Victory is in a simple soul || Team RWBY #[let’s kiss and make up okay? // Yang IC] #[Comin’ in hot // Yang Inquires] #[to travel around the world and get wrapped up in as many crazy adventures as I can // yang headcanon] #[yet every misshapen spark’s unseen beauty is great than it’s would be judgement // yang aesthetic] #[I’m more than meets the eye // Yang Musings] #I always start my semesters off with a ‘yang’!! // Yang Main Verse #Not a replacement; but I’ll make good use of it // Yang Main Verse 2.0 #A heroes heart lit aflame // BNHA Verse

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Beloved Cherry Blossom ~ Yamaoka Kazan/The Oni x Fem!Reader

Note: Since Kazan lived in the feudal era, and died there, his S/O would be someone from that time, so, just like him, she'd be dead, so the shock of seeing the dead back alive would be great for him...Who also died in a painful death. Haha.

"My son, you reached the age when you have to marry and ensure the continuation of our bloodline. Since you haven't bothered looking for a potential wife, I took the liberty of finding you a pretty girl. She is the daughter of a respectable samurai who guards the Emperor, and her father ensured she is a very capable, smart and understanding woman, so she will be able to deal with your...Temper." Kazan's father sat down with his son, who scowled, offended at what he heard, but despite all this, he was well aware of this bother he had to deal with. "...Yes, father." he muttered, sharply looking down at the floor. "We will go to meet her tomorrow, at her home, an in less than a month, we will have the marriage. I know you are not the type to care about families and women...But you have to do anything in your power to ensure the honor and survivability of the Yamaoka bloodline." yes, of course, his father just had to sigh in disappointment. "I understand, father. I will make you proud." Kazan answered before leaving the room to train, as a way to let out the pent up rage.

Who needed women and a family? He certainly didn't care about that. They were a nuisance. A weakness, at best. Father is too much of a sentimental, even for a samurai. What a ridiculous charade...

And his displeasure continued even the next day, as he dressed in a rich, official kimono, to show off his heritage, but at the same time, his long hair was put in a disheveled ponytail, rebel strands flying with the wind, and the neck of his outfit was lowered down enough to show his outlaw-ish predisposition. Needless to say, his father was angered by this side of his son - Surely, he taught him better! - But it was far too late, and they had already arrived at the L/N estate.

Just outside the big, beautiful house, a petite young woman, her long dark hair shining like ebony, her skin as white as snow...She looked so frail that she'd almost resemble a snowdrop. And she was delicately playing a soft, yet sorrowful tune on her bamboo flute, while her father put a pink flower in her hair, looking at her with nostalgia and love.

Kazan look at his own father, before glancing back at the girl whom he found out was named Y/N, and realised how big of a difference it was to was a son, compared to having a daughter. The difference in the two men's behaviour was huge.

He once heard a samurai, whose wife had just given birth to his daughter, "Treat your daughter the way you wish her husband would treat her." He didn't care at first, obviously - Kazan's mind was never on marriage - But now he was beginning to understand the meaning of his words, for they were wiser than anticipated.

Her father was tender, and treating her as if she was the soft petal of a cherry blossom, and his voice was low, loving and respectful, not wanting to startle her in any way...He was talking as if he was trying to keep the zen equilibirum intact at all costs.

The love between a man and a woman is supposed to be like Yin and Yang...

But how could Kazan possibly behave in such a way, when all he knew was to be a rageful brute who would destroy everything in his path in the loudest, brashest way possible?

"Ah, Yamaoka-san, you have arrived. And you brought your son with you. It's an honour finally meeting you, Kazan. Here, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, dear, why don't you go prepare some osmanthus tea for our tired travelers, while I guide them to our table in the cherry blossom garden?" her father pat her hair, and in return, she bowed slightly at the guests, offering them a gentle smile, that would put all of Spring's flowers to shame. "Yes, right away, father. I hope you will like our flower garden. Papa had them all planted in honour of my mama. They are all her favourite kinds and colours." ah, yes, of course. Women have a special kind of bond with their mother - That was something he would never be able to fully comprehend, Kazan realised very easily, by the way the girl was close to shining as soon as she talked about her birth-giver.

The son of the Yamaoka family obvious saw women before - He wasn't an idiot - And he had enough experience with them...But there was something different about this one. She was...So...Innocent? She seemed to naive and not from this world, almost as if she had no idea of the terrors of the world outside of her residence.

It was such an endearing thing, almost exciting - But the young samurai wasn't sure if he wanted to protect this innocent ignorance at all costs...Or if he wanted to shatter it into pieces and taint it completely.

But that question was easily answered as soon as she came back and started pouring tea for him. And then later in their marriage, the way she behaved so gently with him, it was so weird, so foreign to him, and yet, it made him feel something else...Something completely different from the bubbling, infernal rage he could feel in his chest all the time.

It was soothing, mending his soul completely, for some reason that he couldn't comprehend at all.

But why should he, anyway? He was content just having her by his side whenever he was home. Only she was able of taming the storm that clouded his mind and soul.

His little cherry blossom.

And only the Gods knew how many men he had to kill to make sure she isn't harmed, or prayed upon. He never realised how many desperate, disgusting, dishonorable and lecherous men could be, but Kazan wasn't going to let her see anything other than the honour of a samurai - Like him, his father, and her own father.

However, not even her gentle soul would be able to contain his rage whenever he'd hear that dreadful, shameful nickname they would call him.

"Oni-Yamaoka"

Why was he an Ogre, all of a sudden? Because he brought justice upon the fakes who made a mockery of the code of the samurai? Because he wanted to protect the sole person he cared for in this life? Even his father was against the aggressiveness he displayed on the battlefield, and in the actions he took...It almost felt like even his father was agreeing with that stupid nickname!

"Here, Kazan, lay your head on my lap and forget about your worries, at least for tonight." Y/N pat her lap with a sweet smile, her eyes gleaming with love and benevolence as she reached out her other hand to reach out to him, and as if possessed, he followed her lead absent-mindedly. "Y/N." Kazan called out after a few minutes of having his eyes closed, feeling himself relaxing as her fingers were soothingly playing with his long, untameable hair. "Why do you always tell me to lay on your lap, whenever I'm angry?" "Do you not like it, darling?" she asked, but the passive smile on her face showed that she knew that wasn't the case at all. "I do. I was just wondering why." he grumbled in a lower voice, which made her muse, her smile shaping into an almost kitten-like one. "My mama always did that to papa. She said that the best place for a man to relax is on a girl's thighs. I don't think she was wrong." oh, what a sweet giggle she had. It sounded crystalline, like a river of diamonds going through the forest. "...I won't comment on that." the man closed his eyes, not wanting to give in to the flushed sensation he felt hearing something so embarrassing. "You do not have to be embarrassed, my dear. We are man and wife. There is nothing we could do or say that would be worth or deemed as embarrassing." she reassured him with an amused tone, as her small hand touched his bare chest, just where his heart would be. "Why are you not afraid of me, like the rest of them? You are nothing more than a frail woman. You have the eyes of a baby fawn, and the frail bones of a rabbit. You are nothing more than a flower in comparison to me. I could snap your neck like a twig if I'm not careful touching you. And yet, you allow yourself to be vulnerable around me, and while at it, you encourage me to be the same as well. I will never understand the complexity of women and their thinking." the samurai sighed, grumbling in faux annoyance. "My, my, was that what was on your mind? How lovely of you to be concerned about me. Well, I will tell you a little secret, since you are so curious, but make sure it stays between the two of us, alright?" she giggle softly, almost like a little child kissing her crush on the cheek, and it made Kazan's heart flutter. Was she truly trusting him with a secret? What did he do so worthy to her that she deemed him the perfect candidate as a secret-keeper? "I would not dare tell your secret even to the Emperor himself, or my father." came the samurai's vow with such seriousness, that made the girl grin. "You see, women aren't physically strong like men are, but what we lack physical prowess, we make up for our incredible emotional strength. So, I believe that, at least in these times of war and bloodshed, a man's role is to protect the physical body of the woman, while the woman's role is to protect her man's heart and soul. Without balance, there is no future and no happiness, wouldn't you agree? If we don't make the best out of this life, and look at the beauty of the world...Then have we even lived at all?" there was wisdom in the words that Kazan deemed rather naive, and yet...What she said wasn't wrong, per se. In fact, it was true. He was well aware that, with his body, the best he could do was protect her, but he would never be able to sooth her broken heart the same way she does to him...And likewise, he remembered the mirthful laugh he let out when she tried lifting his weapon from the ground.

However, he wasn't going to say anything out loud, and decided that, instead of voicing his opinions, he'd rather grunt and close his eyes, letting sleep take over him, his head still resting on her soft thighs.

Maybe having a wife wasn't as bad as he once thought...

But times change fast - Years pass, lives pass, the river passes...And yet, only one thing doesn't pass, and that is Yamaoka Kazan's rage, which only grew stronger and stronger with each day, and each time he heard himself getting called "The Oni".

He was desperately angry, and not even Y/N's loving touch or sweet voice could save his soul, so much, that in fear of accidentally hurting her, he decided to stay out and train or go on and kill more and more samurai impersonators, hoping to somehow release all his anger and be able to return home.

He knew Y/N would be worrying for him, but she needn't do such a thing, it would only hurt her heart, and that was the last thing he wanted. He was strong, and feared - Who would dare go against Yamaoka Kazan, anyway?

The days away from home multiplied, and he was away for a stupefying month...Y/N must be crying, worried sick. He wasn't afraid of anything physical in this world, yet the thought of her doe eyes shedding tears...It was something he was terrified of, especially if he was the cause of that.

But on the way home, he found a pink lotus flower, and he thought she would love it, so he gently took it with him back home. It was raining, and an ominous feeling crept into Kazan's heart, and he realised there seemed to be an almost dark aura around his home.

It wasn't yet sleeping time, so why were there no candles lit? There was no sign of any living being there? Where were the servants? Where was his beloved Y/N, waiting for him on the porch, playing the flute the way she always did?

Something was not right...

The man rushed inside the house, and as soon as he slammed open the sliding door, he was met with nothing that he expected - Pools of blood on the floor, while the otherwise neutral-coloured walls were splattered with the red liquid, and the corpses of the servants were brutally mangled and thrown around as if they were defect ragdolls.

It wasn't the horrifying sight that scared him, but the fate of his wife - So he made haste and ran to their shared room...And there she was.

In more pieces than she should be in.

Her hair was a mess, her kimono was a mess, her make up was a mess...And she had been tortured, from the way her wounds, slashes and cuts looked on her body.

Who...? Who could do something so...So...Disgusting...To a defenseless woman who had no means of fighting back? Where was the honour in defeating a weak civilian, such as her? What was the purpose of this massacre?! Was it to anger him? To bring out the Ogre from him? Is it what they all wanted? To see The Oni they feared and hated so much? They got revenge on a small woman, just to get to him?!

"Ah, Kazan, finally. Took you quite a while to return home...I thought her body would rot away and get swarmed with maggots by the time you'd return. And what's that in your hand? A flower? Did you want to apologise to her with a stupid flower? You have caused my daughter immense distress, and yet, she loved you to the very end. You should have seen her cry out your name, praying for you to come back home and save her...But, alas, the Ogre is never home! He is so busy killing, that he didn't realise he killed his own wife! Hahaha! Yamaoka Kazan, you are a pathetic excuse of a man, you could never come close to her strength! I tried everything to get her to tell me your secrets...But she didn't say a word. She ignored me. In the end, she came to hate me, her own father, who cared and loved her since she was born...And she loved you, some spineless monster who knows nothing but carnage!" what...? What was this man saying...? Is he truly implying that he tortured his own daughter to death, for...Information...On him...? "What...Did you do...?!" red was the only thing he could see, as he couldn't help but stare deep into her dead eyes that still held the fright and agony they last felt when she was still alive. "I KILLED HER! I KILLED MY OWN DAUGHTER, Y/N! This whole marriage was meant to bring down your stupid family of brutes and uncontrollable monsters! It was meant to kill YOU! But she was stupid! Nothing more than a sentimental woman! She LOVED you, a monster who knows only bloodlust! It's YOUR fault that she is dead, Kazan! YOU killed her! YOU!" her father yelled at him only meaningless gibberish.

In fact, Kazan couldn't comprehend words anymore. Instead, he could only hear whispers - They were soft and feminine...They sounded like Y/N...Could her ghost be talking to him? Was she trying to calm him down one more time, from beyond this world?

Yes, you were a saint, truly...It was a pity you had to meet him...If you hadn't, you'd have still been alive...And your beautiful flute song would still resound around the forest, along with the thrill of the birds.

"I am sorry, Y/N" was the last thing Kazan thought...

As The Oni took over completely, and went on the greatest blood shed known to mankind at that time...

------

What am I doing here...? What is this strange place...? It looks nothing like the beautiful flower garden Kazan made for me...So where am I?

The girl looked around like a confused meerkat, asking herself a limitless amount of questions, only to look down and realise her beautiful pink kimono was dirty with mud, and she gasped in shock. How could she let that happen! She can't let Kazan see her like this, what would he think?!

Ah, yes, that's it, just look around for Kazan, he'll surely know what's going on!

However, instead of finding her strong samurai, she saw three other people, all looking of a different race than her, and wearing such strange clothes...

Was she behind fashion, and she had no idea? She was sure she was buying only the best kimonos there were...!

"What are you just standing around for?! Run! We have to repair the generators!" a girl with unnatural coloured hair yelled at her before she sprinted the hell out of there.

Generators...? What are...Generators...? And why is this place so creepy...?

Hold up...This paper wall maze...This was from her home! Yes, that means she was close to home!

She ran through the little maze with a smile on her face, only to see one of the man working very focused on some kind of contraption, and he urged her to help him out. She sheepishly crouched opposite of him, frightened, but she carefully tried to do something, but instead, a loud noise and sparks came out, and she shrieked in fear, shielding her face as she fell on her back.

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" she cried out, her eyes watering. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you want to die that badly?! Get a grip and do something useful for once!" the man screamed in her face, before running the hell out of there.

Why were they all so rude to her...?

She was so used to her family, her servants, friends and Kazan to be nice with her, that she didn't realise people like these existed too.

A bit shaky, Y/N got up, trying to pat away the dust from her dirty kimono, and continued to look the estate...Only to find her home...But why was it in such a deplorable state...? Surely, she wouldn't allow her beloved home to end up like this...!

As Y/N made her way inside the home, she noticed the scary amount of blood splattered all over the place...Almost as if there was more red than colours of walls an the floor. It was so frightening...And confusing.

Who died here? And how in the world...I mean...She was sleeping, and then...

Oh.

Oh.

No.

She wasn't sleeping...

As soon as she stepped into her room, she didn't notice the blood on the floor, but the discarded pink lotus that laid on her pillow. As she crouched to take the flower in her room, she got a sudden flashback of her memories from the night she died...

She waited for Kazan, and the elderly servant woman was comforting her, pouring her tea and patting her back, as she played the same flute song she did when she first met beloved.

But then, her father paid her a visit...And a true hell was unleashed...

Her own father did something so atrocious...Such a betrayal was nothing she could ever phantom in her own life, and yet, her life was ended not by a stranger, but by her own kin.

As silent tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her delicate cheeks, a loud roar shook the whole estate, and the brusque blurting in the room of a huge man was enough to fright her to fall on the ground with a startled yelp.

And yet...

The raised weapon, the samurai garments he wore...And that Oni mask... There was only one person in the world who could look like this.

"Kazan...?" her voice came out weaker than a whisper, and she wasn't sure if he even heard her calling out his name. For a split second, she was terrified of the thought of that horribly enormous weapon striking her down where she stood, in her own bed, for the second time...And yet...

The monstrously big man dropped his weapon and slowly crouched in front of her, picking up the flower and putting it in her hair, pinning it away from her gorgeous face.

"Y/N...It really is you..." his voice came out as a dark grunt, in fact, in very much sounded like a demon, and yet, his moves and actions seemed more delicate than even this lotus flower.

The girl started laughing from happiness, allowing more tears to escape her eyes, being reunited with the love of her life, and she threw herself in her arms, feeling safer than she ever did in her life.

"I missed you so much, my dear Kazan...I missed you so...I can't believe such things happened to us...And yet, here we are, together again, even in death, even in hell." as she said that, she slowly took away his mask, and revealing his rugged face, obviously one of a man seasoned in war and tortured to death - She put her hand on his cheek, just as he used to do with her, and caressing him, she leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead.

It was meant not only as a lucky charm, but as a 'home sweet home' as well, for there was no home without Kazan's arms wrapped around her protectively...

And there was no home without the petite body of his beloved S/O in his strong embrace, watching her fall asleep.

"I promise you never leave you again, my beloved cherry blossom." he said so, and yet, having been in this Hell longer than her, he knew of the atrocities she, as a Survivor, would have to endure, and the hell the Entity would put on the both of them.

And yet...

If anyone even dares to look at her the wrong way, The Oni would make sure that, no matter how immortal the Killer might be, he would bring an end to them.

He already lost her once, and he's not going to let a tragedy befall her ever again.

#dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dbd oni #dbd oni x reader #dbd oni imagine #kazan yamaoka #kazan yamaoka imagine #kazan yamaoka x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine

[scripturiends]

law school episode 9 musings

warning: very very long post ahead. i have a lot of thoughts.

hey folks — how we feeling about episode 9?

given that there are so many plotlines in the show, i’m afraid i won’t be able to extend my analysis of the episode as far as i would like, but there are three characters who stood out to me the most last night that i’d like to talk about for now:

kang dan

there’s a lot that we got to uncover about her thanks to professor yang’s trial. if i’m piecing it all together right, the basic summary of what led to her disappearance goes like this:

she was a volunteer for assemblyman ko’s campaign, but upon discovering that he was spreading fake news about his opposition, dan reported him to the authorities (i’m guessing not just the police but also the media) and became a whistleblower. assemblyman ko tried to buy her off with money, but she refused, so he attacked her where she’s most vulnerable instead — by using her family.

i’m not completely sure about this (please feel free to correct me!) but it’s either byeol is (1) the twins’ half-sister, or (2) their stepsister? it’s so hard to tell, especially since korean terms can get lost in translation in the process (i watch on netflix, if that helps). but anyway, sol and dan’s mom married someone who was abusing her, and in exchange for dan’s silence (and her fleeing), the husband signs a contract that he would stop hurting his wife.

so that’s the backbone of dan’s story. however, this still doesn’t answer a lot of things, like where seo byungju or lee manho fits into the equation, the whereabouts of their mom’s ex-husband, or why dan was sent into boston in the first place.

i usually don’t like theorizing, but i do have one: there is an ivy league school located just outside of boston — harvard. (it’s technically in cambridge but you know, i’m taking liberties here.) professor yang said in passing one episode that he thought he saw dan when he went to the school for a seminar or a talk or something. could it be that assemblyman ko offered her an education at a top school in exchange for her silence? it could explain why she gave it up all so easily. what if she took that topnotch education as a chance to prepare, so that when she came back, she had much stronger leverage to take assemblyman ko down, given the knowledge and network of connections she’ll have earned in that school?

the theory’s plausible but i might be overestimating assemblyman ko’s kindness — unless he’s insanely desperate, he might not give a damn about dan’s education. it actually benefits him more if she stayed uninformed, but still. let me know what you think about it.

yoo seungjae

in this episode, we learned a little bit more about how yoo seungjae was able to hack into the professors’ laptops, and they also confirmed some of our previous speculations about him: that his wife yujeong was an ob gyn, and so was he, and that they were trying for a baby. unfortunately, i find it all to be a bit lacking in substance. i was hoping we could get down to the nitty-gritty of why he did what he did.

i say this for one important reason: i don’t know about you guys, but i would never make such a stupid mistake in undergrad, let alone in law school. seungjae has gone to med school, so we know that he knows the repercussions of his actions. why would he go to such lengths? sure, he found an opening, he was tempted, and he took it. but he didn’t just do it once, he did it multiple times, and those offenses add up (hacking, stealing exam papers, and cheating). surely he must know that something like this can ruin careers even before they even start, and not only would he get kicked out of the school, he would also get blacklisted from the industry once he implicates himself. so we understand why he’s so hesitant to testify (especially now that his wife is pregnant).

but why did he do that in the first place? we could say he’s insecure about his skills, but he’s survived med school. how much harder could law school be for him? i just don’t think that the payoff is worth the risk. what must be so important for yoo seungjae to do all of this for? what does he get in return if he successfully pulls it off and gets straight As during his entire time in law school? who is he doing for?

i hope it runs deeper than just wanting a ‘good future’ for him and his wife and their baby or something — because he could just as easily do that as a doctor. there must be another reason he went into law.

still, though, and this is just a personal opinion, even if i did find out his entire backstory, there’s no way i could ever defend him. we see in the show how his guilt builds up (from observing how kang sol A studies so well, to his conversation with jeon yeseul in the hospital), but at this point there is no more excusing what he did. not that i ever condoned it in the first place.

we’re still in the dark about a lot of things regarding yoo seungjae. hopefully by the next episode, we get something. but until then, he is still a shady, shady man to me.

kang sol B

her screen time in this episode was short, but i still wanted to highlight her because she is pretty much a ticking time bomb.

she’s in a tight spot right now because even if she testifies about having seen the sugar packet, the prosecutor will just twist the argument by saying she colluded with a murderer just to cover up her plagiarism.

and now, seo jiho needs her help, probably for something related to his case with prosecutor jin. in exchange, she puts pressure on him to ‘confirm’ that she didn’t plagiarize in middle school, since they were schoolmates and rivals.

there may be more to this plagiarism issue than meets the eye. who knows, we might find out later on that she actually didn’t plagiarize? but given what i know now, i have no reason to believe that she didn’t. i don’t blame her specifically for that, seeing as she has to pay for the consequences for something that her awful mom forced her to do. but now that the mess has been made, i want to see how she cleans it up.

kang sol B is a very elusive character to me. the scary thing about her is that she’s on no one’s side but her own. and that’s why i think she’s a ticking time bomb.

~

bonus: han joonhwi

so that’s all i have for the serious stuff. as a bonus, i’d like to talk about han joonhwi and his four (4) children jeon yeseul, seo jiho, kang byeol, and min bokgi.

one of my friends brought up how it’s so funny how he’s somehow just at the right place at the right time all the time. this happened when he ran into kang sol A when she was looking for yeseul (i still think they were on the phone with each other beforehand but this is just my shipper self talking — truthfully, if the focus was shifted towards that phone call without divulging who it was, i have a feeling it might be more important later on), and when seo jiho confronted prosecutor jin. adding his elevator conversation with kang sol B, i think it just solidified what we already know: han joonhwi is a very compassionate person. but he doesn’t sacrifice his own personality just to appease them — he recognizes that these individuals have agency, and he’s just giving them the little push they need to make them realize what they need to do.

i also felt the need to bring up kang byeol. the show does such a good job of ensuring that all the solhwi scenes that we get, no matter how indulgent and “fanservice-y” they might seem, actually have a deeper purpose. again, i could go on and on about what each solhwi scene has actually contributed to the development of the plot, which is exactly why i love them so much! because all of their scenes are so meaningful. but anyway, it’s nice to see han joonhwi care so much for his, ehem, future sister-in-law.

and for min bokgi — this scene was so short, but i absolutely loved it so much (i tend to pay attention to the throwaway scenes): min bokgi is going off about how yoo seungjae is acting weird, and he says to joonhwi, “hyung, you should call him.” and joonhwi responds with, “sure. eat your food.” it’s such a fatherly thing to do and it’s such a great contrast to bokgi’s dynamic with sol A, with whom he’s so loud and vibrant, moods that both match their personalities, but with joonhwi, who is more subdued, he’s like a little kid in need of rescue from an older brother, or even a dad. ah, i love it so much. min bokgi is such an underrated character. i wish he had more screen time. (if he doesn’t get a central ep, well, you guys know where i’m going with this, right? it means i’ll give it to him myself.)

~

so that’s it for now! i’m sorry i went on rambling again, but if there’s anything noteworthy in this post that you think is worth discussing, please do tell! if there’s anything that you found thought-provoking in the episode that i didn’t get to touch up on, let me know as well!

i personally don’t make any theories about the overarching plot myself, seeing as by the time the new episode comes out, we get fed information that renders the theory useless. still, that doesn’t mean we should stop coming up with our own ideas. sometimes, the theories are more interesting than the canon itself.

#jtbc law school #law school #kang sol a #kang dan #ryu hye young #han joon hwi #kim bum #kang sol b #lee soo kyung #jeon ye seul #go youn jung #yoo seung jae #min bok gi #solhwi #kang sol a x han joon hwi #hyun woo #lee david #seo jiho #lee kang ji #mine

[ddullahan]

hadestown au 2

I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THEM  it’s a constant brainrot tbh and i’m gonna throw the next chapter out because i’m experimenting with things so if you’re new here, welcome, and here’s the first chapter if you haven’t read it:  hadestown au 1 ------------ it’s a love song Music is everywhere in this world. From the hot, mosquito infested plantations to the coldest points of the north, it hums in the earth above and for what? It's off-key and discordant, but it follows the wind off the train tracks as if it has nowhere else to go. Yang remembers growing up on the tracks. She remembers singing with the winds, and hearing laughter in her ears. The Fates were always at the back of your mind, pulling you from choice to choice like there's fishing wire wrapped around your soul. Invisible, they beckon you away from home. They beckon you to the fires down below. She remembers thinking their voices sound unkind. It still sends shivers through her body. The idea that her destiny might not be good, or bright. But it’s not anything she’s dwelling on. She remembers her first melody. How it came from her tiny house hidden in the willows. Willows, with their long branches that wave in the breeze like the sleeves of a robe. Waving at the train, waving at her as she draws chalk flowers on her front porch. They're friendlier than the blues give them credit for, and when she was younger, she wanted the world to know. So she opened her mouth to sing, and the willows suddenly weren't weeping anymore. She loves those willows as much as she loves her guardian, and the little train station she finds herself crying in - but that's something for later. Yang's not crying as her hands dunk beneath soapy waves. She's humming, as she always is. Slow and soft, sponge scraping in time with the swinging door. Voices trip over themselves in the amphitheatre beyond. Everyone's excited for spring to come. The train is on its way. They just need to wait for the Queen to start their summer fun. Yang loves this time of year. There's dancing, and singing. Joy wraps around the rafters and the walls get painted in hope. It’s a rolling tide of an echoing chorus, too happy to be contained. She stacks the last clean plate into a bucket and dries her hands. She knows the festivities can't go on until the Queen’s grace touches the land - but there's something she has to do first, with these plates they've never used. She has to break them all. She has to meet her muse. It's a story that's already been written into the floors, Yang just needs to follow Fate’s wires threaded in her hole-y shoes. So without thinking too much, she swings around; picks up her bucket of dishes. She makes her way out from the kitchen. Except nothing can prepare her for the moment everything begins. Her feet slip into grooves she’s never noticed before. She’s thrown by the recognition worn into her soul - like this stranger across from her has touched it before. Like she’s already gone and marked Yang’s soul like a worry stone. Like she’s already pressed a divot in the shape of her thumb. Ink black hair set in short, fluffy waves. A sharp jaw and rich brown skin. There’s buttery yellow light in the walls that spill onto her face. It turns her lips into a plush, dark valley that Yang needs to sink her teeth in. She’s pulled away by the eyes, though. They're precious gold glinting with hints of amber. They're set under nightdark banners, black eyelashes that flutter like raven wings. They almost seem to glow with hunger. The sight is enough to knock the wind out of Yang's sails. To empty her lungs. There's something familiar in this awe. Aching and ancient, it moves her like there's fire at her feet. Suddenly there's a song building palaces in her chest, and she knows that melody like she knows her willows. She hears in the rafters. She knows its very nature. Yang's entire body yearns with the desire to sing. The world stops. And then resumes. As Yang's pale lilacs start to search gold eyes for that same, ancient ache - she has only seconds to understand something fundamental, and profound. That this is meant to be. That she’s known this woman's soul as long as she’s been alive to breathe. Longer, even. There’s something familiar in the mahogany of her cheeks. Something echoed by the trees. Maybe it’s because the song they sing is the same. Because willows are friendlier than the blues make them out to be, and Yang gets the feeling that this woman is not all she appears to be. Oh, Yang needs to know her again. The woman has a mouth that begs to be fed. She has a body that drowns in that tattered old coat. But it still makes Yang remember that she has an empty bed, in her house under the willows. She wants to offer shelter to those hollow cheeks. Though she swallows the urge like it's a handful of nails in her throat. There's enough pain in it to make her drop the forgotten bucket in her hands. The dishes shatter through the fuzziness in her ears. And it's only by a miracle that she gathers her wits. The miracle being Summer Rose in the form of guidance. She touches Yang's arm, asks her to get a broom. She has a knowing glint in her eye, but it's a little sad, too. Like she knows the world shifted two inches to the left. Like she’s known the story before it ever began. Yang snaps free of the binds in her feet. She jumps to attention, and makes a hasty retreat. Her hands are in her bangs within seconds of the door swinging shut. She stammers gibberish to Summer, who only smiles with love. "You want to talk to her?" She asks in a coo. "More than anything," Yang breathes. She's sure there's stars being born in her eyes. "Well, go on." Summer says. "But don't come on too strong, dear. She's still very new around here." "I won't!" Yang replies, already planning her wedding. "I'll - I'll take her to see the night sky, and I'll give her a melody! I'll sing songs about her eyes and show her the willows when they don't weep. I'll write her poems and maybe she'll agree to marry me-" "That's all well and good, dear," Summer laughs. She reaches up to pat Yang's cheek fondly. "But maybe you should start with your name. There's no rush." "No, but I feel like I've done this before." Yang presses an anxious fist to her chest. "I feel like she'll say yes." "Baby girl, you have such starlight in your eyes," Summer says softly, "And I support you regardless. But maybe, just for once... You should take your time with this." Yang frowns. Her heart doesn't want to wait. But Summer's face holds a deep, deep pain. Her silver eyes are gunmetal gray. She smiles, but still gives off an aura of resignation. It's the same look she wears when something is wrong, or will be soon. It has something to do with Yang, and the girl in the other room. Yang knows that age doesn't dare show it's face on Summer Rose. She looks young, for a goddess of course, but Yang doesn't know what she's seen. She doesn't know what it's like to live for eternity, though she tastes it a little when she sings. She doesn't know what it's like to be Hermes, but from the expression Missus Rose gives… it must be bad. All Yang really knows is that she took her in, when her muse of a mother abandoned her on the road. She knows that, and she knows how much she loves Summer Rose. So it's with her guardian on her mind, instead of the song bursting in her chest, that she says softly, "Okay, Missus Rose. I'll try my best." Summer double-takes. Her face is filled with surprise. The silver seems to slip back into her eyes with hope and wonder. "...Thank you, sweetheart." She says, stilted and unsure. "I'm just looking out for you." "I know." Yang smiles, blinding and bright. "You always are." Yang doesn't remember when she grew taller. She just knows that Summer, in her fast steps and suited splendor, has never really admitted that she was Yang's mother. Though that never stopped her from loving Yang just as hard. So Yang bends down, and gives the goddess' forehead a kiss. She admits to her shyly, "You're a good mom. One of the best, I think." Summer's eyes fill with tears, but none of them fall. She murmurs thickly, "When did you get so tall?" "Don’t know," Yang laughs, "Time really flies when you blink." "Mm." Summer gives a sweet grin. "Don't you have a girl you need to meet?" Yang's face flushes in red. Summer hums thoughtfully; skips away too fast to see. She's back with a soda, and hands it to Yang with a wink. "Try this for an icebreaker," She says, "You'd do well to take off the cap for her." "Th-thank you!" Yang squawks in surprise. Her usual honeyed voice cracks way too high. She blushes harder, but Summer is already ushering her out the door. It swings shut, and she is alone on the floor. The girl - woman, rather - is huddled at a table with her head bowed down. She's hovering over a ratty backpack that's probably seen a thousand towns, a thousand homes, and a thousand trains. She looks weathered, and cold. Yang desperately wants to wrap her up and make her warm. She needs to know her name. So she takes her first step, and then the next. Crawling over to her awkwardly, the bottle held to her chest. It's mechanical, the way she pops off the bottle cap. The way she watches it slip from her shaking fingers. Lets it clatter over to fingerless gloves. She sees a flash of gold hidden beneath those black lashes. She's struck stupid by the way they almost glow in their sockets. And they meet, lilacs to amber. And her heart screams, marry her, marry her. She feels a hole rip open in her chest. It gapes with awe and wonder. It consigns her to no other lover except the woman she swears she's already met.   The song in the rafters starts over, and Yang just stands. There's so much hunger set in the woman's face. It's a landscape of starvation, with valleys built from sharp cheekbones and soft black waves. Despite the insistence of the muscle in her chest, Yang takes a breath, and her wedding plans go out the window. Her every ounce of confidence seems to dwindle until the last of it drips from her fingers. Those gold eyes are suddenly too much. There's a strange, visceral fear in Yang's bones. It pulses in veins of gold. It's foreign, and old. It bleeds with desperation. She knows for a fact she's been down this road. That this lovely creature has held her hand before, and turned away. Promises stick to her throat and rot. Fruit of the vine filled with blight, and not a cure to be seen. A cycle that repeats. A tragedy that has always been. Visions of a future long past. A die that’s already been cast. It's all too much. Her heart seizes, and Yang - for once in her life - runs. She turns and wobbles her way back to the kitchen. She feels those haunting eyes burning into her shoulders. Palatial notes and flowering verses twist in her chest longingly. The song she feels inside her like a heartbeat starts to wail at the absence of her muse's name. The emptiness sits black in the cavern of her ribs, silent as a grave. She wants to turn back... but her feet won't obey.

#rwby hadestown au #bumbleby hadestown au #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #summer rose #yes she's hermes LOL #i thought it fit the narrative angle i'm goin for XD #also i unabashedly love summer rose and will look for any excuse to put her in my fics #anyway here's part 2 of the brainrot #thanks again to yangsbandana for keeping this au constantly in the back of my head #ngl i posted this for you because you inspire me so #<3 #rwby fanfic #rwby au #rwby

[bmblboop]

Struck Like Lightning

    (Contains spoilers for RWBY Volume 4)

Absorb Electricity. He felt something, not an emotion, just a gut-instinct. With everything that had happened; every coincidence that led Nora, that Grimm, and his family to Kuroyuri that night, he knew, somehow, that this phrase on his arm was connected to… something. It must be important.

The following is the introductory chapter to a Semblance-Soulmate AU in which a name or description of someone’s semblance will appear on their soulmate’s skin. The concept of a ‘soulmate’ is discussed in-universe and is treated as less of a one-and-done deal (nothing is 100% predetermined in RWBY). I plan to elaborate more on the Semblance mechanics if I end up finishing more chapters.

I am posting this in commemoration of Renora Week 2021 because this chapter features Ren and Nora! Let me know if you enjoyed it!

The days and weeks after the fall of Kuroyuri allowed Nora and Ren time to readjust and explore new parts of themselves. Ren’s sudden companionship had brought out a new side of Nora; she had someone to talk to, someone to bounce ideas off of. Someone who didn’t judge her or pretend she didn’t exist. Nora often took the lead when following the trails and roads, in hopes of finding them someplace else to stay. That town had never felt like a home to her, but to Ren, it was everything he’d ever known. He was quiet, but observant, and getting better at his newfound abilities, which gave them both a sense of comfort. They didn’t have to fear the dark so long as they had each other.

One restless morning, the two were walking east, caught up in conversation.

“…so that’s why I think I like my hair short. Not that long hair is bad – it just gets tangled up in everything. You’re smart Ren, keeping it tied up like that.”

“-huh?” The sudden praise had caught him off guard.

“You pull hair up to keep it out of your face! I have no patience for that, so that’s why mine is short!”

“Oh, yeah. Do you think we could take a break soon?”

“Sure!” She scanned the treeline for a spot. “Ummm, let’s sit there.”

They made their way to a small boulder under the shade of the trees. Nora climbed up and sprawled on top of it to stare at the sky. Ren sat at the rock’s base and scratched his sleeve. His arm wasn’t itchy, but there was something-

It must have been the light of the fire playing tricks on my eyes he thought. He gripped his wrist tighter.

But something was nagging at him, something deep in his soul. To look again, to make sure it was just nothing. In broad daylight, surely if there was anything there-

Pulling his right sleeve back, Ren balked. On the inside of his arm were two words.

Absorb Electricity

“What-“

“What? What is it?” Nora pondered, sitting up and leaning over.

“Absorb-? What do those words mean?”

“What words?”

Ren turned around. Nora was looking at his arm too, with a quizzical expression on her face.

“Those words!” he pointed to inky writing on his arm.

“I don’t see anything?”

Ren did a double take; looking at Nora, then back to his arm.

“If you’re making a joke, I don’t get it.” Nora deadpanned, head propped up in her hands.

You don’t-? But it-? I’m not-? Ren dropped his arm and pushed the sleeve down. “It’s fine, I must be seeing things.”

Nora shrugged and turned back over, watching the clouds gather above.

--

They found a rocky overhang to camp under for the night. Nora passed out pretty fast; she had gotten a lot more comfortable sleeping through the demon-filled nights with someone by her side. Ren just stared at the embers of the fire and let his thoughts wander.

I know they weren’t there before I met her. Before… that night. So where did it come from?

A distant shriek echoed over the valley, and Ren could feel his heart beating in his ears. Immediately, he was awash with the calming greytones of his semblance. The scream turned to baying. A Beowulf then, probably alone and several miles away.

Exhaling slowly, he returned to color, the gears in his head returning to the question of the mysterious words. He looked at Nora, her deep sleep undisturbed by the distant Grimm calls.

I also never had this power, this courage, before that night. I feel like there is something…

He gripped his arm. Absorb Electricity. He felt something, not an emotion, just a gut-instinct. With everything that had happened; every coincidence that led Nora, that Grimm, and his family to Kuroyuri that night, he knew, somehow, that this phrase on his arm was connected to… something. It must be important.

And what does electricity have to do with anything?

--

Climbing over a mountain in a thunderstorm was never their intended route, even less so when a stray bolt pierced the heavens and struck true.

Nora collapsed, and so could have Ren from the shock. Without thinking, he ran toward her - her body lying still and crackling with electricity. To both of their surprise, Nora was alive. She sat up, singed but supercharged, and no worse for wear other than some temporary hearing loss. (Which she demonstrated when she inadvertently screamed in his face: “Wow Ren, I lived!”)

Together, they settled into a rocky alcove further down the mountain to wait for the storm to pass. Once out of the rain, the pair took the time to laugh away the adrenaline. Safely out of the storm, Nora shouted to the sky, taunting the Gods that had tried to kill her and failed. The thunder only grumbled in response. She traced the thunderbolt-shaped markings the impact left on her with her fingers, and watched them fade away over the next few days.

It felt dream-like, the week following the storm. Perhaps it was just the stress of surviving something so scary, but Ren felt stronger and closer to her than before. One night, curling next to the fire, he began to lay his head on his arm to go to sleep. Out of curiosity, he pushed back his sleeve and stared at his arm.

By the light of the campfire, his skin was blank - the words were gone.

Perhaps, he pondered, that was just a warning. It told him that lightning was going to strike, but she would be okay. Perhaps the words disappeared because they were fulfilled, like a destiny that had come to pass? He was too tired for this, his eyelids were growing heavy. He pushed the thoughts away and drifted to sleep.

-

Years later, when the two survivors worked their way into Beacon Academy, did all the stars align. It was at lunch, with their team and their friends of team RWBY.  Pyrrha had brought up the importance of balanced meals when Yang interjected that Jaune had taken all the chicken nuggets.

“I did NOT!”

“Then why is it the only thing on your plate?”

“BECAUSE, um…”

Ren looked back at the textbook, tuning out the argument and glancing over the chapter’s topic for next class. His preemptive studying was interrupted with an elbow jab to his ribcage.

“What?” he said.

“We should be social, you know.” Nora scolded under her breath before turning to the group and gesturing with a boisterous “HEY!”

A sinking feeling in his gut began to form. If there was one thing Ren could never figure out about Nora, it was her immunity to social anxiety.

“Not that taking down a monstrous Nevermore and giant Deathstalker isn’t bonding enough, but I think we should get to know each other better!” she exclaimed. “Anyone know a good ice-breaker?”

Their leader Jaune perked up, “Ooh, how about everyone’s favorite movie or franchise?”

“Too broad.” Weiss replied.

“How about our weapons? I bet everyone has a cool story about theirs!” Ruby added with a glint in her eyes.

“We could talk about our favorite books.” Blake offered.

“Ha, everyone knows the best ice-breaker is sharing semblances,” Yang smirked, “and your semblance-soulmate.”

Pyrrha choked on her salad. Ruby groaned and leaned back in her seat. Blake visibly stiffened.

Breaking the silence, Jaune scoffed. “C’mon, not everyone knows that.” He then rushed to clarify - “It’s not like it tells you their name. You could walk right past them and never know!”

“Yeah,” Ruby pouted, “and maybe some of us don’t want to deal with that extra layer of existential dread.”

“Aw, but that’s what makes it exciting!” Yang teased.

“That’s what makes it agonizing!” Ruby retorted, “Knowing you have a compatible life-partner somewhere in the world and your only hint will disappear when you meet them?!”

“Hang on a second.” Ren interjected, “I thought we were talking about semblances?”

“We are, but y’know…” Weiss was tapping the inside of her arm. “…the Semblance mark.  It can only be read by the person whose skin it appears on, so sharing that knowledge would be another way of bearing your soul to the world.”

“It’s highly personal.” Pyrrha nodded in agreement.

Yang put her hands up in defense. “We don’t have to share them. I just suggested it because it’s so personal. It’s like the fastest ice-breaker in the world.”

Yang’s awkward laughing aside, Ren was still lost. Luckily, Blake picked up on his uncertainty and continued the conversation fluidly.

“It describes the semblance of a person you are destined to come across. According to popular belief, that person is your equal – your other half so to speak.” Blake’s voice then dropped into a hushed monotone, gripping her wrist. “Of course, some people believe strongly in it, while others prefer to forge their own path.”

“Right,” Jaune jumped in, “there’s no rule about marrying them or anything.”

“So it’s more of a suggestion, then?” Nora asked in confusion.

“I find it all very poetic.” Pyrrha said. “I’ve heard that your soulmate mark will disappear after you meet them. After that, it is up to you to forge that bond in person. Nothing is set in stone; it’s a path you can choose to take.”

“Whoaaa.” Nora mused. “Wait, how come I never got one!?” Nora was on her feet in surprise. “Is it possible I didn’t notice?”

Ren was only half listening to the conversation now as the puzzle pieces aligned and clicked together. Words. Semblances. Partners. Those letters he nearly blocked from memory, blocked with the rest of Kuroyuri... didn’t they mention something about electricity?

Two semblances tied together. Two souls cross paths and find each other’s company.

It is pretty poetic, isn’t it?

--

#rwby aus #rwby fic #renora #flowerpowerweek2021 #Semblance Soulmate AU #lie ren #nora valkyrie #My posts #my fic #finding the right voices for rwby and the rest of team jnpr was fun #I have 3 other ship stories planned for my personal fave ships but they aren't finished yet #If I get good feedback maybe i'll continue!

[faunusrights]

if it’s a gentleman’s sport then why am i, ruby rose, so good at it? - snooker au

i straight up started writing this at like 11:45pm on my phone directly onto tumblr before i passed out for the night. is this garbage. yes. do i care. no. this is a part of the snooker au i’ve joked about before, which is a winter/ruby Sports Anime-Esque adventure into one of my favourite niche sports, up there with professional air hockey and rally. snooker is good! you should check it out! it’s like pool but more confusing, and you have to wear a waistcoat whilst you play it. i don’t make the rules, i merely enforce them.

///

“I never thought I’d say this,” Blake says out of nowhere, and their eyes are going sort of wide with the realisation, catching on the golden lights of the hall and glimmering a soft amber, “but I actually think I’m compelled by this horseshit.”

Weiss sighs so hard that it sounds more like a wheeze, but Ruby’s already overjoyed, turning towards Blake and Weiss with her cue held overhead, readying a cheer. “I knew it! I told you! Snooker is so good, right?”

Weiss had known coming to Patch’s single snooker hall to watch Ruby practise had been a bad idea for myriad reasons, the chief of which was that Ruby is almost certainly on a crash-course with Weiss’s older sister as she climbs the precarious ranks at an almost flippant pace, but the second was that the last thing she needs is for her datemate to find literally anything interesting in a sport about knocking balls together. Tragically, Weiss has always been somewhat adjacent to snooker given its status as the Gentleman’s Sport and its broad appeal in Atlas, and she’d hoped vaguely supporting her sister’s career whilst also strategically moving herself to Vale meant Weiss would never have to interact with it or any of its players again. Alas...

“It’s deceptively simple,” Blake muses aloud, and Yang tuts from where she’s stood at the opposite end of the snooker table, waiting for Ruby to take her turn.

“Yeah, and deceptively slow when your opponent needs to take five minutes to brag about it between shots. Chop chop, Ruby, we’re not hanging around here all day.”

Ruby pouts, making a show of rounding the table to eye up her angles. “But it’s so fun to talk about! It’s, like, ASMR the sport! And what with all the strategy and the thinking ahead, it’s like... it’s like... ball chess!”

Weiss facepalms. “Maidens have mercy.”

“I’m not wrong,” Ruby insists. “It’s exactly like chess. Ball chess.”

“It is a lot like chess,” Yang admits, and Weiss is glad she looks about as glum about it as Weiss feels. Blake, unfortunately, still looks horribly captivated. What a disaster.

“Ball chess,” Weiss repeats, and it hurts her to even say. “My sister would tie your spine in a knot for that one.”

Ruby snorts, but she finally leans over the table, eyeing up the distant black that Yang had missed. It’s a long pot — Yang had tried to get the cue ball to safety and had failed that endeavour, too, managing the distance but not the snooker — but Ruby doesn’t even hesitate before lining herself up, eyes focusing between her target and her goal before striking true, the cue ball sailing smooth down the table... before it catches the angle just so, the black knocked into the corner pocket with such ease she may as well have picked up the damn thing and dropped it in herself. The cue bounces off the foot cushion before rolling to a calculated stop for an angle on the next red, and Ruby nods appreciatively before turning back to Weiss with a grin, Yang quick to replace the black onto its spot at the bottom of the table.

“Yeah, but she’s gonna have to be nice to me. Way I see it, we’ll first meet in the hall during, like, semi-finals or whatever. Gotta have manners, Weiss.”

“She’ll obliterate you,” Weiss fires back, because she might not care for snooker but she’s Winter’s number one fan hell or high water, and that means tossing out the threats. “As soon as you miss, she’ll clear the table and wipe the floor with you.”

Yang makes a wriggly hand gesture at that. “I dunno. Your sister’s pretty fucking methodical, but I’ve yet to see anyone put Ruby in a position she can’t cheese her way out of. I don’t think you can actually, like, snooker her in a way that matters.”

“It’s trajectories,” Ruby cuts in as she lines up her next shot on the red — there’s only two remaining after this, and Yang’s score is lagging dangerously behind with Ruby’s determined focus to keep herself centred on the black. “Even then, you just have to get fancy with your curves. A snooker is just when your shot isn’t a hundred-percent chance, but I can do a lot with ninety.”

At that, she sinks the red, the cue ball puttering its way back around to give her another straight shot on the black to the opposite corner pocket. Yang’s already losing the will to live, it seems. Weiss can’t blame her. Blake, however, seems more interested than ever. “So, Winter’s methodical and you’re... what, spontaneous?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ruby answers, shaking her head. “It’s more like... since we’re calling this ball chess—“ (“No we’re not,” Weiss interjects to no avail) “—it’s more like Winter’s one of those chess players who knows all the strats, right? Like, uh, Queen’s Gambit or Fool’s Mate or whatever the shit they’re called. So long as every move goes to plan, she’s pretty much unstoppable. Me? I’m like one of those kids who gets a Rubik’s Cube and then completely ignores all the instructions. Like, I totally mess it up before I solve it anyway.”

“Which Ruby has done before,” Yang adds solemnly, and Ruby grins.

“Which I have done before! So, with Winter, as long as she doesn’t miss the pot or fuck up her safety, it’s her game. But I like the unexpected! I like being jammed into a new situation and figuring it out from there. It means I adapt a whole lot better then I fuck up and miss my shot, or the cue doesn’t end up where I planned.”

Blake nods, doing that thing where they sit up straight and cross their arms because they’re getting really quite engaged with the matter, and Weiss hasn’t yet found the inner strength to tell them it makes them look like a carbon copy of their father. “Polar opposites, then?”

“I guess,” Ruby shrugs. “Like, if you give her an inch she’ll take the mile, but if she screws up, she’s gonna have to work hard to put me somewhere I can’t crawl out of again.”

This is why Ruby’s nickname in these halls is The Escape Artist, and it’s the entire reason Weiss absolutely does not, in any capacity, want Ruby and Winter to play against each other. It’ll either be a match that’ll end in as few frames as physically possible, or a match that goes on until Weiss crumbles into fucking dust, and the odds are so 50/50 that she doesn’t like the look of either of them.

It would help if Ruby stopped being so fucking good at snooker, potting the black again with such ease that it’s like breathing at this point. Yang hisses between her teeth, and Ruby raises a brow as she stands up again.

“It’s ungentlemanly conduct to quit a game before you gotta do snookers,” Ruby points out, and Yang scowls.

“Ruby, I have done the maths, and there is not a chance in hell I’m winning now. The day I manage to get points off you missing is the day hell opens up and swallows me whole,” Yang says, though she doesn’t move to quit just yet, still holding onto her cue despite the knowledge it’s no good to her now. “Just clear the table so we can go and get lunch.”

“We could do that,” Ruby agrees. And then, she swings her head around to look at Weiss with an obnoxious grin. “Unless...”

“Ruby Rose,” Weiss snarls, “if you intentionally miss this final red just to keep this game on life support, I will end you.”

#my writing #rwby #ruby rose #snooker au #i have no idea why i was so compelled to write abt it last night but i WAS #anyway this thing literally isnt edited so dont squint too hard at the inevitable spelling errors #11:45pm murphy was a different person idk them

[softlighter]

Blake feels haggard, and world-weary, but a passing painter asks her to pose for her a few times and the resulting painting is a masterpiece. Blake doesn't understand how Yang sees her as anything but weather-beaten, while Yang doesn't understand Blake's inability to see her own beauty or self-worth.

I hope you know how much I adored this prompt, nonny friend!  I hope it was worth the wait.  Also posted as “sketch of hope” on Ao3!

~~~

Blake takes a drink of her tea.  It’s over-seeped and bitter, something no amount of milk or honey will fix, but it’s tea, and it’s warm going down.  Still, she squeezes more honey into the chipped ceramic mug and stirs it in.  Her eyes feel heavy, but she flips open her book once more and begins reading where she left off.  It’s something she’s read before but it’s as worn and familiar as her sweater; just what she needs right now.

Another sip of tea, her nose crinkling as she’s hit with the sour and sweet syrupy taste, but she still downs half the cup.  She would normally go to her favorite cafe, a ten minute’s walk away from her apartment, but it’s too much effort to exert right now.  Everything is too much effort right now, hell, she’s just happy she managed to leave the apartment today.   It’s something, it’s an improvement, even if this tea is awful and she wants to crawl back to her bed.

She puts her book down and sighs, rubbing her forehead.  It’s a beautiful day.  The sky is a crisp blue with fluffy clouds like cotton candy, and the spring wind is sweet with florals.  Blake is at an outdoor cafe, and it’s a beautiful day.  It’s a beautiful day, and she should be grateful.  

But she’s not, and she’s tired.  

Blake leans back in her chair, picking apart her croissant with her fingers and popping a bite in her mouth.  At least their croissants are decent.  She takes another bite, directly from the pastry this time, and casually brushes the crumbs off her sweater.  Blake scans her surroundings and the few other occupied tables at the cafe.  It’s still relatively cold, and not many are apparently wanting to brave the sharp nip of the rickety metal table and chairs.

But there’s a couple speaking in hushed tones and giggling every few minutes, even if their noses and cheeks are pink.  There’s a group of boys across the patio playing some kind of game with dice and they shout loudly every once in a while, even with the couple sending them dirty looks.  There’s another woman across from her, also sitting alone, but she is scribbling in a notebook.  

She drifts back to her tea and croissant, but the back of her neck prickles, and her ears instinctively stiffen.  Blake looks up once more, and she meets eyes of bright lilac.  Her cheeks feel hot, but she doesn’t look away, despite herself.  The other woman is blushing too, though, and she smiles sheepishly at Blake.  “Guess I should’ve known better,” the woman says.

Blake’s brow furrows.  “Pardon?” she says, more on instinct than anything else.  

The woman’s face turns a deeper red, and she gestures toward her notebook.  “I know I should’ve asked permission, but-”

“Were you drawing me?”  

The woman nods sheepishly.  “Sorry.  It’s a bad habit.  One of my old art teachers always encouraged it, said we got more natural looking sketches that way, but people don’t exactly like it.  But, well, I couldn’t help myself.  Hard habit to break, and you’re a perfect study.”

“I am?”  Blake snorts.  “Hardly.”

The woman frowns, her pink mouth curling downward.  “Well, I say you are.”  The woman hesitates before scooting closer to Blake’s chair.  “You’re not upset?”

Blake shrugs.  She doesn’t feel much beyond the heat in her cheeks and curling in her stomach, doesn’t feel much at all these days.  Her eyes drop down to the notebook before looking back up at the woman.  “I feel like there’s a compliment in there.  Somewhere.”

The woman smiles, and she looks over her shoulder before getting up and taking the seat across from Blake at her table.  Blake raises her brows, but she says nothing as the woman slides  her notebook to her.  “What do you think?” she asks.

Blake studies the dark lines, the way they curve and dance across the page in sketches and hatches.  It’s obviously just a sketch, but the word just demeans the art before her, ignores the simplistic beauty of something in progres.  The woman is talented, obviously so, but Blake still frowns.  “That’s not what I look like,” she says finally, even though it, obviously, her.  

“Maybe it’s not how you see you, but it’s how I see you,” the woman says.

Blake scoffs, but her eyes linger over the page before she forces herself to slide the notebook back.  “You don’t know me.”

“I’m a good sense of character.”  The woman closes the notebook and smiles at her, tucking a long blonde strand of her back behind her ear and underneath a purple hat the same color as her eyes, but even the electric lilac of the wool dulls in comparison to her eyes.  “Can I ask a favor?”

“You can ask whatever you want, doesn’t mean I have to answer.”

“Would you consider posing for me?”

Blake blinks.  “What?”

The woman nods brightly.  “Come to my studio, with proper lighting and stuff like that.”

“Again, what?”  Her brows knit together, and she’s not sure if she’s amused or concerned.  “I don’t know you.”  And you’re not going to want to know me.

The woman shrugs.  “Are you a serial killer?”

“No, but-”

“We can stay here if you’re more comfortable with that,” the woman presses.  “You’re just- well, you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.”  Blake’s stomach turns, but the woman quickly adds, “I mean, just, wow, that sounds so creepy, but seriously.  You’re a delight to draw.”  The woman laughs.  “That’s not much better, is it?”

Despite herself, she smiles.  “No,” she agrees.  “It’s not.”  She considers and tilts her head, her fingers tapping against the cool metal of the table.  “If you want to, I’ll be here for a bit longer.  So do whatever you like.”

The woman’s face breaks out into a bright grin.  “Thanks!”  She laughs, scratching the back of her neck.  “I’m Yang, by the way.”  

“Blake.”  Yang extends her hand, and Blake nearly gasps when she sees Yang’s arm.  Yang’s smile fades.  Blake stumbles for her words, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy.  “That’s beautiful,” Blake says finally, taking her hand in her own.  The metal is cold in her hands, but smooth.  “I take it you designed it?”  

That warm smile returns.  “Yeah, I did,” Yang admits, and she rolls her sleeve up to her elbow.  The prosthetic is sleek, but there’s a thousand images all painted onto the metal.  Sunflowers, roses, and lilacs all creep up and over her fingers to her palms, bright and abundant, before the blooms swirl into gleaming golden scales and, finally, crackling flames.  She’s never seen anything like it, and she can’t help but stare.  “Painting with my left hand is hell, though.”

“Well, you did an amazing job,” Blake says, forcing herself to wrench her eyes away from the breathing art to meet Yang’s eyes.

“I mean, if I’m gonna be wearing it all the time, it better be, you know?”  Yang shrugs, but she opens the notebook once more.  Her pencil appears from nowhere, and Yang starts sketching, her eyes on the page.  She looks up at Blake and smiles.  “You can keep reading, if you’d like.”

And she would’ve, but instead she says, “I thought you wanted me to pose for you.”  Yang’s jaw slackens, and Blake smiles to herself.  “Tell me what to do, artiste.”  

Yang laughs.  “Pick something comfortable for you,” Yang says.  “This can be my proper warm up.”  

Blake straightens her shoulders and leans her elbow onto the table before resting her chin on her hand.  She’s staring at Yang in this position, she realizes, but Yang just smiles again and resumes sketching.  Her pencil flies across the paper, sure and steady but light, and Yang looks up at her, but it’s different.  Her eyes are appraising now, still warm, but studying her.  Studying her like she’s a piece of art, like she’s something beautiful.

“I thought you said this was your warm up,” Blake says a few minutes later.  “This looks pretty intense to me.”

Yang shrugs, still looking down at her paper.  “You speak to me,” Yang says simply.  Blake’s stomach clenches.  “Maybe I’ve found my muse in you.”

“I’ve never believed in muses.”

The corner of Yang’s lip quirks up.  She’s so quick to smile.  “Well, I do,” Yang says.  Yang checks her watch, frowns, and looks up at her, and her eyes are soft.  “I gotta go, but if you’re ever around Sixth Street, I work on thirty-eighth.  You’ll know it when you see it.  Feel free to drop by to see the finished product.”

“Alright.”  She doesn’t address the offer, just lets it sit between them as Yang packs up.  “Have a nice day, Yang.”

But Yang rips out the first drawing and hands it to her with that bright smile.  “Just so you remember how I see you, Blake.”  Yang winks, and then she’s gone.  Blake swallows hard, her eyes unexpectedly hot, and she stares at the sketch.

When she gets home, she tapes it to the wall next to her bed before burrowing back under the covers and letting oblivion take her.

~~~

Blake tells herself that the bakery on Sixth is why she’s there, that she’s had a craving for their challah bread and the bakery’s bread closer to her apartment isn’t what she’s craving.  She tells herself that, but she still takes the long way to Sixth and walks around so she’s on the higher end of stress addresses.  The apartments here are nice and made of bricks, colorful and inviting.  Perfect for Yang.

But thirty-eight takes the cake.  There’s a mural on the bricks, and it’s a collision of paint and color and wonder.  Even in the overcast day, Blake’s eyes can’t get enough of it.  She instinctively knows Yang did it, and a smile tugs at her lips before she can stop it.  

She bites her lip, but she can’t stop herself from walking up the stairs to the door.  Blake knocks, and she hears a voice within call, “One sec!”  Her heart skips a beat, and her hands bunch into fists.  This was a bad idea.  This was a very, very bad idea.

But the door opens, and Yang is there.  She’s in a tank top and paint-speckled jeans and her long blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail.  Blake weakly waves, and Yang just grins at her.  “I’m happy you’re here,” Yang says, holding the door open.  “Wanna come in?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” she says, trailing off, but she still steps through the door.  “Should I take my shoes off?”

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

Blake looks down to Yang’s bare feet and slips out of her shoes, all too aware of her pastel lemon-patterned socks.  But Yang doesn’t even give her or her feet a second glance before ducking deeper into the apartment, and Blake’s stomach clenches.  

This is a bad idea.  This is a very, very bad idea.

But she follows Yang deeper into the house, and with every step she has to stop and stare.  Art is everywhere, but she can tell it’s not just Yang’s.  There’s monochrome paintings and stunning glossy photographs and sketches done in smeared charcoal over every square inch, and Blake wonders what it must be like in Yang’s mind, what it’s like to see beauty everywhere she looks.  

Yang leads her through a small kitchenette and into the real show.  There’s canvases everywhere, leaning against the walls and blank and ready to be painted, in all sizes.  The easel is already set up with wet paint.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Blake says, biting her lip.

Yang waves her off and tosses her a bottle of water, which Blake manages to catch somehow.  “You’re not, trust me,” Yang says.  “This can wait.”  Yang takes the canvas off the easel and smiles at her.  “So, you here to pose or to see what I did with the sketches?”

“Both, I guess.”

Yang laughs and grabs a smaller canvas, carefully handing it over to her.  “Take a look.”

It’s of Blake’s hands, the paint thick and chunky but somehow creates an incredibly smooth picture despite the obvious physical texture.  Her hands seem delicate but sturdy, like Yang had snapped a photo of her in movement, acting with purpose and surety and certainty.  Her hands have been painted with light haloing around them, a soft buttery gold that warms the icy blue background.  Like she’s a saint.  Like she’s capable of being a blessing, of blessing someone.  Like she’s good.  

Her fingers hover over the smooth whirls of paint that seem to arch off the canvas and beg her to touch them, to feel what she imagines is silky soft.  But she pulls her hand back, even if she doesn’t dare wrench her gaze away.  “Beautiful,” she whispers, her throat thick.  Yang even noticed the small scar on her right ring finger from a papercut that somehow left a pale scar and the freckle on the inside of her left index finger.  

“Thank you,” Yang says, and when Blake looks up, Yang is smiling.  “But this is just the start.”  Yang takes the painting from her hands and sets it back down before gesturing Blake over to a chair by the window.  “Here, just sit down here and look up or down, your choice!”  

Blake gives her a quizzical look, but she still sits down.  Yang’s hands hover around her but don’t ever touch her, something she appreciates.  The stool isn’t the most comfortable, but she quickly settles in a position.  “Is this what you’re looking for?” she asks as Yang settles behind her canvas.  She’s looking at the feet of the easel, but when she raises her eyes she can make eye contact with Yang.  

“You’re perfect.”  

~~~

Blake comes back the next day.  And the next day.  And the next day, and the next day, until she’s been by Yang’s every day for two weeks.

“You know, I need to pay you,” Yang says suddenly one afternoon.

“What?  Why?”

“I mean, you’re spending hours sitting in the same position.  You’re providing a service, the least I can do is pay you for it.”  

Blake shakes her head, her mouth dry.  “No,” she says.  “Please, don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Yang asks, her brow furrowing.  “I mean, like, I’m pretty sure it’s unethical to not compensate you for doing this.”

Blake doesn’t say that she doesn’t have anything else to do, doesn’t say that she enjoys Yang’s quiet and loud company, doesn’t say that this is better than laying in bed and gives her a reason to shower.  Instead, she says, “I don’t need the money.”  It’s true, she doesn’t.  When she sold the publishing house, she knew she would never have to work again, but, until a few months ago, she had still worked as an editor.  Coco sometimes still texted her asking if she wanted to read manuscripts, but Blake usually gave her a noncommittal response.  “And you buy me lunch, so call it even.”

Yang snorts.  “Lunch is the least I can do,” she says, but she’s picked up her paintbrush once more and resumed.  “Let me make you dinner one night.”  Blake opens her mouth to respond, but Yang keeps going before she can.  “I make a mean lasagna, and I always make too much, so you’d be doing me the favor.”

“Are you sure?” Blake asks.  She’s barely eaten anything besides pastries and readied meals for months, and the sound of a home-cooked meal makes her stomach rumble.  

“Yeah,” Yang says.  “Least I can do.”

“It’s really not,” Blake says.  Yang raises a brow, but she keeps painting, so Blake continues.  “You’re just nice, Yang.  Not everyone is as nice as you.”

“Well, I just want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”  Yang shrugs.  “And maybe a little better than that if I can, but seriously, Blake.  I don’t know who you hang out with, but you deserve nice things, and, dare I say, good things?”  Yang winks at her.  “You’re my muse.  I think I’m allowed to give you as much as you give me.”

“I just sit here,” Blake says, but Yang is already shaking her head.

“No, Blake.  You do so much more than that.”

~~~

Yang doesn’t show her any of the finished paintings after she sees the hands, but Blake knows she’s made several.  She doesn’t mind not knowing, even if it makes her stomach twist.  She wants to know what Yang sees, even if she doesn’t understand her perspective.  How Yang can see her as anything good.

“So, uh, I have to tell you something,” Yang says one night after dinner, scratching the back of her neck.

Blake freezes up, but she nods.  “Shoot.”  She’s sick of you, she doesn’t want you, she’s done with you.

“Well, um, tomorrow is my mom’s birthday, and I won’t be around until after lunch.”

“Yeah, of course,” Blake says, her shoulders sagging.  She’s washing the dishes, which Yang always protests her doing, but she still manages to get in there before Yang can.  It’s the least she can do.  “Is your family doing anything?”

“Not really.  My, well, my mom died a couple years ago.”  Blake stills, but Yang keeps talking.  “And my sister is with my dad, but I got class in the morning, and I didn’t want to cancel.”

Blake pauses, setting the dish down on the drying rack.  “Do you want to do something?” she asks.  “Something for her?”

“Well, I usually get dinner at her old favorite restaurant here with my family or some friends, but I was thinking we can meet here and-”

“You should do that.  Go out to dinner, I mean.  Don’t- don’t feel obligated to hang out with me.”

“Obligated?” Yang repeats.  “Blake, I do this because I want to.  I want to be around you.”  Yang’s voice wavers.  “Do you not want to be around me?”

“No, I do, I just-”  Blake sighs, rubbing her forehead.  “I don’t want to be a burden for you on a day like that.  And you should see your friends.”

Yang is quiet for a moment.  “Well, maybe I am,” she says carefully.

Blake turns around.  “We’re friends?” she asks.

“Well, yeah.”  Yang shrugs.  “Unless you don’t wanna be friends, I mean.”

“No, I do!  I really do, Yang.”  She clears her throat and averts her gaze.  “How about we go out to dinner?  Celebrate her life and her wonderful daughter.”

Yang laughs, but the sound cracks briefly.  “I’d like that.”

“Then tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

~~~

“No painting today?” Blake asks, slipping off her shoes as she enters Yang’s.  Yang is wearing a jumpsuit the same color as her eyes, and there’s golden earrings cascading down onto her shoulders.  She looks fancy.  She looks good, and Blake can’t take her eyes off of her.

“Nope,” Yang says, smiling.  “I wanna show you something.”

“Alright?”

Yang leads her to the upstairs with the actual kitchen and living room, spaces she’s practically lived in for the past few months.  There’s a laptop open, which Yang silently slides to her.  Blake raises her brows, but she reads the article title, and her heart stops.

“It’s not published yet,” Yang says, the words distant.  “I wanted to surprise you but show you first.”

XIAO LONG’S ANGEL the title reads, and Blake silently scrolls through the unpublished article.  There’s pictures of paintings, and she instantly knows they’re the paintings Yang did of her.  

There’s none of her face.  Nothing that could identify her.  But there’s more of her hands, reaching and praying and receiving.  There’s her silhouette in golden light, and she seems to be breathing and moving.  There’s her bare shoulders and back, and there’s sharp golden shards of wings growing from her body.  There’s her mouth curled in a smile and soft and shining, pink and rosy.  There’s her dark hair cascading down her back as she reaches for something out of frame.

Pieces of her, and not.  This isn’t her.  She’s too broken to be this beautiful.

“Blake?” Yang asks, and that bright smile fades.  

Blake wrenches her gaze from the laptop and stares down at her hands, her eyes hot.  She’s not that, she can never be that.  “That’s not me,” she says hoarsely, her voice shaking.  “That’s not me, Yang.”

“It’s how I see you,” Yang says, her words a burning balm.  “It’s you, Blake.”

Her throat closes up.  “I’m not-”

“You are beautiful,” Yang says firmly.  “You are beautiful and kind and amazing.  And this is how I see you.”  Yang hesitates, but she hands Blake a wrapped box.  Her stomach turns, but she can’t stop herself from opening it with shaking hands.

A broken sob leaves her mouth.  It’s her eyes.  

Blake sets the canvas on the counter and closes her eyes, trying to breathe.  “You don’t know me,” she says, and her voice cracks.  “I’m not this person you see.”

Yang cups her face and leans down to look her in the eyes.  “You are,” she says.  “You are.”  Her eyes dart to her lips, and Blake’s face flushes.  “You are beautiful, and kind, and amazing,” Yang repeats.  Her mouth parts.  “And you are worthy, Blake.”  Yang thumbs away a tear on her face and smiles sadly.  “I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

“Yang-”  She cuts herself off with a shaky breath.  Instead of speaking, she leans into Yang’s touch.  Her hands are soft but calloused with her work, but, most importantly, they’re Yang’s hands.  “I don’t deserve you,” she whispers, but she still reaches back for Yang.

Yang smiles, and there’s tears in her lilac eyes too.  “Yes, you do.”

She isn’t sure which one of them leans forward, if one or both of them do, but Yang’s mouth is on hers, and she can’t think.  She doesn’t want to think beyond Yang.  So Blake keeps her eyes closed and kisses her back, her hands grabbing onto Yang and not letting go.

Blake doesn’t deserve Yang.  But Yang thinks she does, and maybe that can be enough.  Maybe that will be enough, and Blake can love her.  She doesn’t know, and there’s no way to know.  But for the first time in months, in almost a year, she feels hope being sketched into her chest.  

#rwby #bumbleby #my writing #answered prompt

[littlemisssquiggles]

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar’s Sacrifice For His Rose

Guys, I’ve been thinking. And y’know what happens when this squiggle meister muses about something; especially if it’s related to RWBY.

For most of V8’s promotion, the showrunners and the CRWBY kept hinting at how much “darker” this new season to be. And as daunting as that may sound to me as an audience member, the obvious question I ask from this is:

 “…Exactly how dark are we talking?”

After all, RWBY has done dark before. I mean look at V3 and the events of the Fall of Beacon. V3 is still considered to be RWBY’s darkest season to date. Beacon fell leaving Vale Kingdom broken and vulnerable without the protection of its main huntsmen academy and a handful of important lead characters from that arc---heroes and villains alike---died. So keeping that in mind, how really dark can V8 be compared to that? What can the showrunners do for this season that they didn’t already do season prior? And here in lies, my hunch.

Well…not real a hunch. Just a thought. An idea. For me, V8 being darker wouldn’t just represent the Fall of Atlas and the death of lead characters important to this volume arc such as General Ironwood or Winter Schnee or even another member of Team JNPR like Ren or Nora.

Nah son. To me, that’d be way too simple for my taste since, as I mentioned earlier, it’s already been done before so fans are already going to expect that, right? For V8 to be dark for me, the showrunners would have to do something incredibly ballsy. Something that’ll really catch their viewers off guard.

I’m not talking about Ruby Rose losing an eye. As much as I’m not really a fan of that popular fan theory, even that seems too light. Not to mention that Ruby’s development as a Silver Eyed Warrior has been quite inconsistent over the past few seasons and is the aspect of her character that’s been the least challenged.

So I’m going to just toss this one out there because it’s been on my mind since I saw this particular shot from V8 opening visuals. It’s the shot of RWBY falling into an abyss of darkness with Ruby reaching out to grasp what appears to be the Relic of Creation while Grimm hands---the same ones conjured by Salem back in V6 to apprehend Hazel as punishment for his failures---restrain her to drag her further and further away from the light.

Imagine if…Ruby dies?

And I’m not just talking teasing her death like how they did it with Weiss back in V5 with Cinder Fall or with Blake in V3 and V6 with Adam or even Yang back in V3 with Adam.

I’m talking, straight up having Ruby Rose be killed instantly by Salem and her corpse is just left behind for her allies to find her dead. An unquantifiable spark snuffed out after the villains had won yet again. And on this grim tone, V8 just ends like THAT.

Mantle Kingdom is no more; just another graveyard for the Grimm like the former Beacon Academy.

The People of Mantle are all dead; tragic victims of a failed attempt at saving them.

Atlas Kingdom has fallen with its own people about to meet the same horrible end as their former Mantlese brethren.

Salem has succeeded in claiming the Relic of Creation and relishes in her triumph by the restored communications to broadcast a cryptic message to the rest of the world. A message unveiling the Fall of the formerly powerful Kingdom of Atlas at the mercy of her Grimm army; letting the leaders of Vale and Vacuo---the last two remaining kingdoms standing in her way of claiming all the Relics; know that they were next in her conquest.

Our heroes have sustained yet another heavy loss. And what’s worse this time is that now no longer had the guidance of their leader. Ruby Rose is dead. Made to be the martyr this time. And on that note, the volume just fades to black on the echoing cries of our heroes and the victims of Atlas as everything falls to ruin.

It’ll be just like the opening foreshadowed. Happy? Never Again…because the simple soul who was meant to be our hero in the end to rise above everything else and vanquish the forces of evil was now gone. Died another failure to a cause like so many others who died in vain throughout Remnant’s history; just as Roman Torchwick predicted that she would.  And such a tragedy this is since this girl. This single rose---this true rose--- was meant to be unique. She was supposed to change everything, right? But alas, her fate was no different than the ones that came before her.

I’m bringing this up because I have this rather farfetched idea involving the Rosegarden pair that I really wanted to share. It’s not exactly a theory per say. It’s definitely not something I expect the canon to do. Shoot, I highly doubt the showrunners would actually pack the chops to kill off their main protagonist.

However the RWBY V8 opening really got me thinking.

“…We said goodbye to all the things we loved. Gave up our lives just to find that it was not enough…”

In a discussion regarding the ending of the Little Prince story, an anon-ninja informed me about there being an alternative interpretation of the conclusion to the prince’s story wherein, instead of perishing from the snake’s venomous snake bite, the prince succeeded in returning home to his beloved rose on their planet...only to discover that his rose had died in his absence with his care and love.

Putting that together with the V8 opening visuals, it made recall a show I used to watch on Lifetime called Witches of East End. I quite liked it. It's a shame it got cancelled after only two seasons though.

Anyways, why I remember this series in particular is that; spoilers but…at some point during the show’s main PLOT, it did the unexpected and had a series villain kill two of our three main characters. And what made the visual even more horrifying to the audience was that the corpses of these characters were left on display for the surviving third main character to find. It doesn’t help that the two characters were also the beloved children of our third lead who she has watched die countless of times since the head witch---Johanna (I believe her name was) was cursed by her father so that each time her daughters died---she would be forced to give birth to them again and watch their life and death happen again and again. And it doesn’t matter what she did or how hard she tried---even when she attempted to hide her family’s identity as witches from her girls---her daughters STILL never lived past the age of 30.

They always died somehow and it didn’t matter if only one of the daughters died either. When either died, the other one would surely follow. So Johanna would give birth. Raise her two girls into fine young women and…watch them die. Living the same vicious cycle.

This is why the V8 opening visuals  made me think of the prospect of Ruby dying. That shot that I showed of Ruby being dragged down into the dark abyss by the Grimm far away from the light made me wonder.

At first I figured this was a sign that we going to see some mental machinations at the hands of Salem. Basically Salem trapping Ruby and her friends in this cryptic illusion where she tortures them with surreal images of their worst fears incarnated in order to break our heroes down both emotionally and psychologically. So that’s one idea.

But then I thought, …what if…instead that moment is meant to be symbolic. Like the Staff of Creation symbolised life while the Grimm and the void represented death and at some point, Ruby will straddle the fine line between the two for this season.

So with all that in mind, this is what I thought. This is the scenario I concocted from this interpretation.

Let's say...

It is the inevitable Fall of Atlas and Salem kills Ruby Rose.

Instead of the wicked witch being dead, it’s our little red rose and because of this, our heroes are left distraught (Yang in particular, not just because Ruby was her baby sister but also given her doubts over her sister’s judgement and all that jazz). However our remaining heroes aren’t given time to really process Ruby's death. All they could do is take her corpse and attempt to flee since Atlas was falling and our remaining hero team needed to leave if they were going to make it out alive.

Since the show hinted at this bit back in V6, my assumption is that at some point, Vacuo Kingdom will answer the call and come to aid the People of Atlas. While they're unable to salvage the kingdom, the least their forces are able to do with the aid they could provide was evacuate the Atlesians to safety in Vacuo.

So ultimately our heroes are rescued by their allies from Vacuo and reunite with teams CFVY and SSSN respectively. However there is no real time to celebrate their reunion since...well...Ruby is dead. Salem is on her way to Vacuo to claim the Sword of Destruction next and, the group are at a loss on what to do next. Not to mention that certain characters---like WBY (mainly Yang) and Oscar---aren’t taking Ruby’s death too well.

Since the usual gimmick for when a main character dies is for their allies to somehow figure out a way to bring them back from the dead, in respect to Ruby,  I had this idea of...perhaps…while staying in Vacuo at Shade Academy, Oscar discovers a way for him to somehow bring Ruby back from the dead?

Let’s say…it has something to do with his semblance or magic. The thought process I had behind this was that considering that Ozma is technically the only living soul to have ever traversed the line between life and death as an immortal being, imagine if...this somehow made Oscar some kind of human life line or spiritual anchor---A being who is connected to the Realm of Life and Death via his rather unique predicament as a member of Ozma's lineage. 

And thus, using magic (or his semblance or whatever---I dunno) Oscar is easily able to travel the Realm Between Life and Death. Y'know sorta like the Avatar. Maybe?

Basically the notion I had was that

Oscar would go to the Realm Between Realms.

Y’know the same white void where we originally saw Ozma meet the God of Light for the first time in the Lost Fable.

Picture it, Oscar mirroring his predecessor in the Lost Fable, awakening in the Realm Between Realms. In this vacant world, let's say…we get another call-back to the Lost Fable where for the first time since his lifetime as Ozma, a Wizard of Light is reunited with a God.

Imagine if...as a nice parallel, Oscar encounters the God of Darkness in the Realm Between Realms. Much like Light to Ozma, Darkness chose to appear before Oscar since the all-knowing God was already fully aware of what the little prince’s intentions were daring to come to such a world. He knew he was coming to find his rose. 

Let's say...to entertain his own amusement, Darkness agrees to give Oscar a helping hand with his quest for Ruby. The God informs that Ruby’s soul was located in the After Life and even takes Oscar to her so that he may reunite with her. However being the cunning God that he was, what Darkness failed to inform Oscar of was that even if he succeeded in finding Ruby amongst the sea of souls in the After, that didn’t necessarily mean that the boy would be permitted to just bring Ruby just like that.

And since Darkness had dominion over Death (as Light had Life), even with his title as his brother’s cherry picked “champion of humanity”, Darkness wasn’t going to give Oscar that respect in the slightest. For in Darkness’ eyes, this foolish boy lost that mercy the instant he dared to defy the order of the world he and his brother fashioned together to step foot into what he described as his domain.  

After all, there are rules to this game; naturally. Life and death go hand in hand---always in perfect balance.

In a nutshell, to Oscar's detriment, Darkness informs the little prince that the only way that he would be allowed to revive Ruby is if he gave up something equivalent in exchange for her salvation.

An eye for an eye. A soul for a soul. So this presents Oscar with a predicament where in order to save Ruby, he had to sacrifice himself in the process. There was no other way. Ruby will be allowed to return to the Realm of the Living to reunite with their friends waiting for her but this also meant that Oscar would be forced to part ways with everything he and everyone he had grown to love.

This included Ruby despite defying the odds just to find her. He wouldn't even be able to be with Ruby as they once were. Not as teammates. Not as friends or anything more. His life would be gone…and Darkness informs the young boy of all of this; expecting him to fold.

But despite the God's warnings, Oscar agrees to the terms. Without question. Out of his devotion to his rose, the little prince was willing to make this great sacrifice for her. And even when questioned by Darkness of why Oscar would dare to commit himself to such a foolish feat especially for a single girl when there were probably a thousand more exactly like her back on Remnant, it is here where we can get the Fox’s lesson to the Prince, in Oscar’s own words.

Yes Ruby was no different from any other rose. Just as Oz once told him, Ruby had her faults and her quirks just like any other person. She’s remarkable yes. Strong. Brave and Kind. But she’s not perfect. Oscar had experienced the consequences of her flaws and learnt that lesson for himself.

But this wasn’t what truly mattered. What made Ruby important to Oscar was that…she was his. His teammate. His friend. His rose. The girl he…loves. The love and respect that Oscar had for this one girl due to the bond they shared together was enough to make Ruby more special to Oscar than any other girl in Remnant.

His love for her was what made her unique to him. A proclamation which genuinely stunned Darkness as he recounted a time when another poor unfortunate soul, blinded by love just as Oscar was now, came before him for the same reasons as Oscar was doing for Ruby.

Only this other helpless soul didn't make the same bold choice as Oscar did. Unlike Oscar, this soul didn’t understand the value of the life they claimed to love. Essentially a comparison between Salem and Oscar. 

So for the meat and potatoes of this post, Oscar sacrifices his soul to restore Ruby to the Land of Living, bolding choosing to take her place in the Afterlife. As Ruby's soul returns home safe, Oscar's descends slowly into the Void of Death.

But despite this, the little prince bears no remorse. No regrets. He wears nothing but a smile on his fate; perfectly content with his sacrifice as he reached a hand to the light to bid one last tearful goodbye to his rose.

His one true love as he slowly closed his eyes and awaited death's embrace.

And…that’s it. That’s the idea. Obviously me being me, there is definitely more to this concept that I had in mind however this post is already getting a bit too lengthy so I’ll just stop right here. (If anyone is curious about the rest of this headcanon, feel free to ask me in my inbox if you’d like).

But for now, yeah, this is the idea I had. Now as I said, this is only a thought. A mere musing. As I’ll repeat again, I don’t actually expect the show to really kill off Ruby for V8. In another different story, this could’ve happened but I’m not expecting this at all from RWBY even it would’ve made for a very interesting twist.

Regardless, I do still love the concept of Oscar Pine---as our titular little prince, declaring his love for his rose by giving his life to bring her back from the dead should she perish in battle. It feels like such a poetic thing to do. But like I said. It’s just another idea I wanted to toss out to the Rosegardening Pinehead and Rosegarden community.

Take it as you will and maybe you all might like it. Who knows? X3

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

#rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #oscar and ruby #rwby rosegarden #rwby volume 8 theories #rwby volume 8 spoilers #squiggles pinehead headcanons #pinehead headcanons

[tanakavox]

“Merry Christmas!”

The words echoed loudly throughout the Rose-Xiao Long household as they all felt the Christmas cheer in the air. The house had been active with laughter and cheer as everyone had participated in activities throughout the whole day, while Zwei and all of the adults had made final preparations on all of the gifts for the younger members, while secretly preparing their own gifts for one another. Zwei carefully looked over his gift for Xing one last time, making sure none of the wrapping had been torn in any way and that the ribbons were secured on it nice and tight. Rosemary couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she watched her lover carefully look over the gift for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

“I still can’t believe you, of all people, won that thing in a random raffle,” she said with an amused tone. While she said in a joking manner now, Rosemary was actually in pure disbelief mere days earlier at the fact that Zwei had managed to get his hands on the elusive console, and even more so through a raffle of all things! 

“Yeah well, talk about a Christmas miracle,” Zwei scoffed, he himself still a little in disbelief that he had managed to get his hands on a honest to Brothers’ Playstation Five. He was still fretting over the wrapped gift, before his musing was interrupted by an amused Rosemary.

“Oh will you stop worrying already? Your nephew isn’t picky Zwei, I’m sure he’s going to love the gift you got him and that there’s nothing to worry about!”

Zwei glanced over at Rosemary, a skeptic look on his face, before he found his eyes drifting back down to the gift.

“I know, I know, I’m probably freaking out over nothing, I just want this to be perfect for him, you know?”

“Well, I for one think my son is going to love it, and that you’re worrying yourself over nothing Zwei.”

A new voice had proclaimed, causing Zwei and Rosemary to look over to see Yang leaning in the doorway with a smile on her face. Zwei narrowed his eyes at his older sister, before asking her, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know that you’ve been acting like a worry wart for the past twenty minutes,” she replied with a smirk, before she walked over to Zwei and took a seat next to him. “But seriously Zwei, Xing is going to love this gift, why would you think otherwise?”

“It’s just a lingering feeling is all, you know,” Zwei said with hesitance, “I’m just worried about letting him down by getting him something that he didn’t want.”

“Trust me Zwei, Xing is going to love it and you’re worrying over nothing,” she said, before she let out a chuckle, “hell, you probably could have gotten him that old Playstation Two you had to get back from that thief and he would have been just as happy!”

Zwei stared blankly at his sister momentarily, before he felt the palm of his hand meet his face. 

“Now she tells me,” he groaned out in annoyance, causing Yang only to laugh harder at her brother’s response. It was at this point that Rosemary had quietly slipped out of the room, leaving the siblings along to their discussion.

“Hey, it’s your fault for not asking what Xing wanted for Christmas little bro,” she said with a shit eating grin, “Maybe you’ll take that into consideration for next Christmas, instead of spending three days chasing down thiefs, beating up snobby couples, and scaring poor Junior into a early grave.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up will ya,” Zwei grumbled out, “Though you wouldn’t be saying that about “Poor Junior,” if you had heard what he said about Xing.”

The temperature in the room immediately dropped as Yang’s laughter was abruptly cut off. The warm smile on her face was replaced with a thin line and her lilac eyes slowly shifted red, burning with a cold, calm, rage.

“...And what did Hei Xiong have to say about my son?”

Zwei gulped at his sister's sudden shift in attitude, before he quickly related to her what Junior’s nasty comment made towards Xing. Yang slowly nodded her head up and down as she absorbed the information given to her, before quietly stating:

“...Looks like I’ll have to pay Hei Xong a visit soon.”

The tone sent a shiver down Zwei’s spine, and he could only imagine what Yang was going to do to the unfortunate information broker when she decided to make good on that next visit. Sure, Zwei was furious with Junior when he insulted his nephew, but he was only going to rough him up a little if he hadn’t either apologized or given him the information that he wanted. But compared to what his sister was going to more than likely do the man? Zwei almost felt bad for ratting the club owner out. Almost.

The temperature warmed backup considerably, and Yang’s eyes shifted back to their normal lilac before she let out an exasperated sigh. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, before Yang addressed her brother again.

“...I never got a chance to say thank you by the way.”

“Thank you? For what,” Zwei asked in confusion.

“For the fact that you went through all the effort to get Xing his gift.”

“Ah come on Yang, it wasn’t-”

“Don’t you start with that,” Yang said sternly, cutting off Zwei’s attempt to brush off her words of thanks, “You didn’t have to jump through all those hoops and spend all that time getting him this stupid thing, but you did and I’m honestly thankful for it. Not because you managed to get it for him, but because you care so much for him that you went to great lengths to make him happy, and for that, I’m grateful to you Zwei.”

Zwei then found himself in a loving embrace, as Yang closed the small distance between the two and held her brother close.

“You’re an amazing uncle, and an even better brother, and I could not be any more proud of the man you are today.”

Zwei was caught off guard at first by his sister's sudden display of affection, but slowly returned the embrace, doing his best to ignore the moisture that was building in his eyes from his sister's words of praise.

“...Thank you Yang.”

The two siblings held each other for a few more seconds, before their tender moment by tiny voices that were echoing throughout the hallway, screaming at the top of their lungs, “IT’S TIME FOR PRESENTS!”

The glee and excitement from the voices of the children(and of course, one Ruby Rose), was enough to cause Yang to chuckle at their antics, while Zwei merely rolled his eyes though there was little heat behind them. Yang got up from her seat beside Zwei, before giving him a smirk, “ready to open some christmas gifts little bro?”

Zwei eyed his gift to Xing one last time, before he returned his sister's smirk with one of his own.

“I don’t know, is Santa fat, red, and jolly? Of course I’m ready!”

A chuckle escaped Yang’s lips at her brother's cheeky response, before she lifted her brother up from his seating position with his gift in hand.

“Well then we better not keep the kids waiting then!”

Not too long after, Yang and Zwei joined the rest of their family near the Christmas tree and the gift giving had begun. As usual, quite a few gifts were exchanged between the Rose-Xiao Long’s and the Thornbushes, and this year was no exception. Ruby had received an extensive amount of custom weapon parts from Jaune and several others, while Jaune himself had received a new Pumpkins Pete’s hoodie and a set of armour from his wife. Yang had received an extensive line up of hair care products and hair devices, along with several different prosthetics arms to be used in the field(the latter gift was planned between Weiss and Ruby). Taiyang had received both a new grill for when the weather had warmed up and a new desk to replace the old one in his study, while Peach had received several sets of rare seeds for her personal greenhouse in Patch and a necklace from Tai. Zwei was gifted Cyberpunk 2077 and several other games from Jaune(called it!), while little Citrine received a Switch with several games and Lilina has received a Tablet for her to write and play games on.

Rosemary had received a similar gift to Peach’s in the form of rare seeds, but was also gifted brand new gardening tools and a pair of earrings’ from Zwei. Daisy had gotten a new drawing tablet, along with several fresh sketchpads and some new pens and pencils, while Forrest had received copies of old movies he’d been looking to add to his collection, alongside some memorabilia from movie sets of some of the more recent flicks he had seen. Aster had received gifts in the form of new medical supplies and instruments for her clinic, courtesy of Peach using both her medical and Huntress connections to fund the expense.

Finally, there was little Xing, who was quietly watching the rest of his family open their gifts while he patiently unwrapped his gifts given to him when it was his turn. He had received several different things, including clothing, toys, even a new prosthetic to replace his current one that he had outgrown. But it had finally come time to open his gift from his uncle, and Zwei couldn’t help but be nervous. Would he like it? Would he hate it? Zwei couldn’t stop the feeling of anxiety creeping through him as he worried over whether or not Xing would like his gift.

However, his worries were put to rest. Because as soon as Xing had slowly finished unwrapping his gift, he let out a small gasp and his eyes lit up at the sight of the Playstation Five that lay before him. A small smile lit up on his face, before he turned to his uncle and said:

“Thanks uncle Zwei!”

Despite Xing’s quiet nature, it was clear to see the sincerity behind his words as he thanked his Uncle for the gift he had gotten him. Zwei felt a great weight lift off his shoulder, before he returned his nephew’s smile with one of his own.

“You’re welcome Xing.”

Yang caught his eyes a moment later, shooting him a smug look that basically said, ‘I told you so,” before covering her smile as he rolled his eyes in response, though his smile stayed on his face. It looks like everything had worked out after all, and as Zwei warped his arm around Rosemary and looked upon the happy looks of his friends and family, he couldn’t help but think that this was without doubt one of the best damn Christmas’s he’s ever had.

‘A Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night…’

Edits done by @thatorigamiguy!

#rwby zwei #zwei xiao long #zwei rose #zwei #fanaus zwei #fanaus zwei au #rosemarry #rosemary thornbush #rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #rwby lancaster #ruby rose x jaune arc #yang xiao long #taiyang xiao long #citrine arcrose #rwby xing xiao long #aster thornbush #daisy thornbush #thornbush family #forsert thornbush #thumbelina peach #lilina peach

[tuffduff]

The First Meeting (Duff McKagan x Reader)

Pairing: Late 20′s!Reader x Older!Duff McKagan

Words: 1,951 (oops)

Request: @julessworldd​ :  You don’t see enough of older!duff on here. I was wondering if you could do something where the reader is like 28-29 and Duff brings her home to meet his daughters. After dating for a while. Maybe the girls are sorta rude bc she’s still in here 20s and is the first girl he’s been with since him and Susan got a divorce.(I love their relationship so much 🥺). Thank you love 💗

A/N: Thank you for requesting babe!!! Kinda struggled with this one, don’t know how I feel about it, despite the length lol. Also, can I just say as a bi girl in her early twenties how wild it is that Duff’s daughters are also so fucking gorgeous and talented? Jeez. Anyways, listen to The Pink Slips if y’all haven’t, all my love to you guys!

Taglist: @ubernoxa​ @the--blackdahlia​ @reigns420​ @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker​

You should’ve worn the pants and blouse instead of the dress you were cooped in. Or better yet, leggings. You kept smoothing your dress down, trying to judge the distance from the hem of it to your knees. Were you going to look like you were trying too hard? Either way, you knew how was it was going to look regardless of what you wore, but maybe if you dressed more modestly...

Duff’s hand grabbing yours pulled you out of your dread. He took his eyes off the road for a second and smiled.

“Why are you worried? What is it?” You fixed your gaze straight ahead to the lines painted on the road. He always seemed to just know what you were feeling, just by looking. You would have guessed maybe you were just an open book, but no, it was only Duff that always knew. Ever since the beginning.

“Maybe we should wait a little longer.” You blurted out with no buffer, no warm-up, no nonsense. Even your voice was unsteady. Duff’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Y/N, we’ve been dating for over a year now.”

“And we could break up tomorrow.” You reasoned lightly, making Duff laugh.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” He bantered back, still a relaxed smile on his face. “I’m not going anywhere, so...” he let go of your hand to pat your thigh now. “C’mon; serious. What is it, why do you want to wait?”

“Duff, we’re so close in age. It’s...I mean, they’re automatically gonna hate me. I know I would hate me if I were in their shoes.”

“Y/N, I don’t think you realize just how easy it is to love you.” Duff mused. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s, I mean, the situation is...unique. We both know that. But my girls, we raised them to be open-minded. They just have to get to know you. They’re going to love you.” You grimaced at Duff’s assuredness.

Though you had been dating Duff officially for a little over a year, you had known each other for a few years before that, introduced by a mutual friend at a small holiday get-together. At that time, you hadn’t known Duff was newly single, you were just freaking out on the inside about having a conversation with the bassist from Guns N’ Roses and praising yourself for actually getting him to laugh. Little did you know, he genuinely liked you as a person and he wasn’t just being a fake polite celebrity interacting with someone not quite as illustrious as himself.

Since then, well, things had obviously taken off. You had even met Susan, who had split with Duff amiably and still saw each other for friendly lunches or to support their daughters. But Mae and Grace themselves? Intimidation at its peak.

Neither Mae nor Grace followed you on Instagram, they never liked pictures that Duff posted including you, and they certainly were never around backstage at Guns N’ Roses gigs if you were there. You understood from their eyes; you knew how it looked. That was just the unfortunate truth, as well as disadvantage, to being so young. Everyone thought you were just after Duff for his money or something of the sort, some kind of vanity or ticket. But it wasn’t like that; you turned Duff down several times. It wasn’t as if you weren’t interested, you were just apprehensive of dating not only an older man, but a very famous and wealthy one.

But if you weren’t going to date him for that, you weren’t going to not date him for the same reasons. And it was undeniable; you and him clicked from the very beginning. Inevitable, you could feel your heart tugging, fighting, to be with him.

You started passing more familiar houses in the neighborhood, and as you got closer, you could feel yourself sweating.

“Sweetheart, relax. Everything’s gonna be fine; you’ll be laughing by the end of the night.” You turned and looked at Duff as he parked the car in the driveway, still smiling—the yin to your terrified, panicked, yang. “Come on, breathe with me.” He coaxed you gently, and you nodded, focusing on his eyes to steady yourself before you got out of the car together.

As soon as Duff opened the front door you could feel yourself tense, as if you were expecting to get attacked from the get-go.

“Mae? Grace? You guys wanna come down and say hello to Y/N?” Duff called up the staircase. You bit your lip and again smoothed down your dress.

Mae appeared first, intimidatingly beautiful and a spitting image of her mother, dressed in a tied crop top and baggy jeans with tennis shoes. Grace was right behind her with a more obvious scowl, and to your horror, wearing leggings and a t shirt. Both girls raised their eyebrows at your dress before sharing a private look at each other that knocked your self-esteem meter down a good amount.

“Y/N, this is Mae, and this is Grace. Girls—”

“Dad, we know her; this isn’t really necessary.” Grace spoke up, refusing to look at you. Mae had her arms crossed and appeared bored.

“You’ve never met before.” Duff argued lightly. You kept your mouth shut. “And what’s with this, we’re going to dinner, remember?”

“You’ve never had an issue with the way I dressed before.” Grace argued back heatedly. “Now I have to look presentable for her?”

“No, I’m not saying that, of course I’m not saying that, honey—I would never. But Y/N put in an effort to—”

“No, no, I uh, I really didn’t know what to wear…” you blurted out, wanting to cringe as both girls turned to you for the first time. “I really should’ve gone with the leggings.”

“Do you want to change?” Duff offered. “You could borrow one of my shirts—or, you know I’m sure you could borrow one of Mae’s—”

“Dad!” Mae protested immediately.

“No! No, I’m okay.” You interjected quickly. The silence filled the room again and made a mental note that you now had a story to tell if someone ever asked what your most awkward and embarrassing moment was.

“Okay, well, dinner, yeah?” Duff asked as if there weren’t obvious tension in the air. The girls silently marched passed him towards his car and climbed in the back seat together.

“They’ll warm up at dinner,” Duff insisted to you confidently. You said nothing and remained silent as you climbed into the car.

“Who’s gonna pick the music?” Duff asked, looking back in the rearview mirror. “Grace, why don’t you show Y/N some of your stuff?”

“Why would I do that?” She muttered, staring at her phone. You swallowed a little; this was actually a topic you felt confident enough to maneuver.

“I’ve already heard some of your stuff, actually.”

“What, did my dad force you to listen to it?” Grace asked unenthusiastically.

“No. I mean, he told me you had a band, but I never listened until I heard one of your songs on this sorta underground playlist at work. I loved it, and then I realized it was you.”

“Which one?” Grace asked, her tone neutral now instead of disinterested.

“‘Texas’. I really love it. I like ‘Miles Away’ too.” There was silence and you tried to remember your words and figure out if you said something insulting.

“...Thanks. I like that one too.” She said. “We’re doing a music video for it soon.”

“Really? What kinda vibe?”

“Kinda like, road trip aesthetic. Convertible with the top down on a highway.”

“That’s so perfect, I love that.” Suddenly, somehow, you had managed to stumble your way into a conversation. Duff was smiling silently, allowing it to unfold, but you barely noticed due to the conversation.

As you pulled up outside of the restaurant you and Duff frequented, you noticed more traffic and gasped lightly at the sight of the cars filling the parking lot. “Dad, look at the line! It’s Friday night at dinner time, you know it’s always packed.” Mae complained.

“Shoot, I forgot what day it was.” Duff murmured. The line was out the door with several people waiting around out front and even more inside. He frowned, clearly unsure of what to do next, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

“Dad, I’m starving. I don’t feel like waiting an hour to eat dinner.” Grace added in her own disdain. For a moment, you took in the situation. Something so mundane, just with Duff and his daughters with the dilemma of trying to figure out what to eat, a little piece of his life that you were lucky enough to be a a part of. No problem, not even this, even seemed like a problem.

“Why don’t we just pick up pizza? Or burgers?” You suggested lightly. Duff turned to you and you smiled at him. “Or both?” He laughed, and that’s when you noticed you heard more than just the sound of his.

Both Grace and Mae were laughing too with smiles on their faces. “Yes! Both!” They agreed.

“Hell yeah,” Duff decided, giving you one last smile before he turned the car around.

When you finally arrived back home with your eclectic dinner assortment, you kicked off your heels immediately.

“Finally,” you muttered, not realizing the girls could hear you. Grace grinned.

“They’re cute, though.”

“You can have them.” You proposed without thinking. “I haven’t worn them in three years, I imagine it’ll be another three before I wear them again.”

“Oh, well...okay.” She said, giving you a small smile. “Thanks.” You smiled back and headed towards the kitchen where Duff was gathering utensils and napkins, a small smile on his face.

“You know, when I eat pizza I just hold it in my hand the entire time.” You joked lightly at the sight of the plates in his hand. “What?” You asked when he kept smiling.

“Thank you.” You frowned at him quizzically.

“For?”

“Earlier. Nothing ever makes you lose your cool. When I’m with you, life just feels as easy as breathing. Like it’s just supposed to be this way, you know?” You were taken aback by his words and smiled, leaning up to rest your head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head. “That’s why I wasn’t worried about today. It’s important to me to empower my daughters and I know once they get to know you, you’re gonna inspire them as much as you inspire me.” You let out a deep breath of appreciation, soaking in the weight of his praise, allowing yourself to feel this happiness deep to your bones.

“I hope so.” You replied. “Although, I think it’s still gonna take quite some time...” You murmured, turning to glance over your shoulder. To your surprise, the girls were already watching, whispering to each other. Mae had her phone out and smiled when she made eye contact with you.

“That height difference, though.” Mae said, heading to your side to show you the photo she had taken of you and Duff just moments prior. There was a comfort in her actions, as though she had already known you for years, watching your face and waiting for your reaction. You laughed at the picture, as did Duff, who put his arm around you and Mae both.

“I’m a real catch, what can I say,” Duff joked dryly. Mae rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you’re in for quite the deal, Y/N…” she told you. You laughed before you privately took in the picture before you, Duff and his daughters settling down for an evening together, and somehow, that involved you. Quite the deal indeed.

#duff mckagan #guns n roses #duff mckagan imagine #thank you for requesting! #guns n roses imagine

[sneezehq]

Lights Out

Ruby's . . . tired.

This ended up longer than I originally planned (and angstier), but I think I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!

Today has been the longest day of Ruby's life. Between fighting their way to Atlas, finding out that Penny was alive, and their meeting with Ironwood, by the time Ruby barely has enough energy to change into their school-issued pajamas before passing out in her bunk.

Might as well get some rest while she can. They'll have a lot to do in the morning, now that they've finally made it to Atlas.

Those are Ruby's last coherent thoughts before the pull of sleep becomes too strong to resist, and she gratefully drifts off into peaceful blackness. Sleep has never sounded so good.

All of the girls sleep in the day after their arrival in Atlas, exhausted by the difficult journey and the events of the day before. Even Weiss, ever the early riser, doesn't wake up until almost eight. (For her, that's practically the equivalent of sleeping in until noon.) But when even Yang, who has been known to wake up in the late afternoon after a night of having too much fun, is showered, dressed, and drinking coffee before Ruby even shows any signs of stirring from her slumber, her teammates start to become a little concerned.

"Hey, Rubes." Yang plops down on the bed next to her sister, frowning slightly when Ruby doesn't so much as twitch in response to the weight on the bed next to her. "C'mon, sleepyhead, it's time to wake up." When Ruby still doesn't respond, Yang shakes her shoulders gently and taps at her face. Her sister remains deeply asleep, breathing slow and deep and even, utterly oblivious to the world around her.

"And here I thought you were the heavier sleeper out of the two of you," Blake muses.

"I am." Yang's frown deepens as she stares at her sister's peaceful face. "I don't get it. Usually, Ruby would wake up at the slightest noise. I've never seen her like this—except for . . ." The end of her sentence trails off as she falls silent.

"Except for what?" Weiss asks. "Has something like this happened before?"

"Well, sort of." Yang bites her lip. "You guys remember that at the Fall of Beacon, she unlocked her weird silver-eye powers, right?"

Weiss and Blake exchange a glance, nodding. "But what does that have to do with Ruby suddenly being a really deep sleeper now?" Weiss asks.

"After what happened on top of Beacon Tower, Ruby was in a coma for weeks," Yang says quietly, suddenly sounding very small. "And it was a lot like this, where she just fell asleep and wouldn't wake up again. She wouldn't react to anything happening around her. And it just makes me think—she used a lot of power yesterday, freezing that giant Grimm in its tracks. What if—what if something similar is happening this time?"

"So, you think that your sister might have fallen into a coma because of what she can do with her eyes?" Weiss raises an eyebrow, masking her concern with skepticism.

Yang sighs heavily. "I don't know. Maybe."

"If that's the case, what should we do?" Blake asks. "Should we tell someone?"

"I don't know," Yang says again. "Last time, Dad had a bunch of doctors look at Ruby while she was out, but there wasn't much that they could do to help her. She just ended up having to come out of it on her own."

"Plus, we'd have to explain what happened," Blake points out. "And I'm not sure that Ruby wants us telling anyone about what she can do yet."

"So, what do we do?" Weiss glances at her teammates as if hoping for some sort of guidance. "Just sit and here and wait and hope that she wakes up soon?"

Weiss had meant to sound sarcastic, but she's taken aback when Yang nods. "Honestly, yeah. We should just keep an eye on her for now and hope for the best. She's more used to using her powers this time around, so maybe it won't take as long for her to come out of it this time around."

"Ironwood did tell us to rest for a couple of days while our weapons are being worked on, so it shouldn't be that hard to keep this among ourselves for the time being," Blake adds.

"But if she's out for longer than that, we're probably going to have to tell someone," Weiss finishes with a sigh.

"She'll be awake by then," Yang says firmly. "I don't want to go through this again. Please, Ruby."

Her sister remains blissfully unaware of her surroundings, face slack and peaceful as she sleeps on.

None of them want to leave Ruby on her own, in case she wakes up while they're away, so they take turns leaving the room anytime one of them needs something. Weiss makes a trip to the library, returning with a stack of books for her and Blake. Blake is on coffee and/or tea duty, making multiple trips to keep everyone's cups full. Yang volunteers to be the one that goes to the cafeteria to bring back lunch and dinner for everyone to eat at the small table in their room.

Every once in a while, Ruby will snore loudly, or turn over to her sleep, making them all immediately turn to look at her, hopeful that she's finally coming around. But much to their disappointment and concern, Ruby just sleeps on, showing no signs that she plans on waking up anytime soon.

Midway through the afternoon, Penny stops by the girls' dorm, knocking loudly on the door. Yang, who has been attempting to concentrate on playing video games on her scroll to distract herself while the others read, eagerly jumps up at the interruption. "Hello?" she says as she answers the door, angling her body so that whoever is outside can't see into the room.

"Salutations, Yang Xiao Long!" Penny greets her brightly. "Is there any chance I could speak to Ruby? I was hoping to catch up for a bit."

Yang glances back at her sister, hoping that by some miracle Ruby will have woken up in the past five seconds and can come talk to Penny herself. No such luck; Ruby is still sound asleep. "I'm sorry, Penny," she says, shooting the redhead an apologetic smile. "Ruby's taking a nap right now. She's pretty tired from everything that happened yesterday. I'll let her know that you stopped by. I'm sure that she'll want to catch up once she's awake."

"Of course! I understand." Penny smiles gratefully at Yang, although it's a little diminished from her usual brightness and enthusiasm. "I hope that you are all settling in well, and that your accommodations are to your liking!"

"They are," Yang reassures her. "Thanks, Penny."

As night falls over Atlas, the conscious members of team RWBY are quickly losing hope that their leader will wake sometime today. And none of them are really in any condition to pull an all-night vigil to watch over her. They'll just have to leave her for now and hope that she manages to wake up sometime during the night.

With their luck, she'll definitely come to sometime during the night and insist on stumbling loudly around the dorm, waking them all up.

Ruby can't remember the last time she felt this well-rested. As she forces her heavy eyelids open, she can see the faint light from the sun rising on the horizon. Huh. She doesn't usually wake up this early. As she scrubs at her eyes, she yawns loudly and does her best to stretch out the stiffness in her neck. "Anyone else feel like they slept for forever, or is it just me?" she muses quietly, swinging legs over the side of the bunk.

Her three teammates all jolt awake in unison at the sound of their leader's soft voice. "Ruby?"

#rwby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #volume 7 #exhaustion #hurt/comfort #my writing #fanfic

[kdinthecity]

Love Amongst the Turtleducks (Part Three)

@zutaraweek​ for Day 3: Fuse. Also posted on Ao3. I struggled with this prompt, and yes, it’s a stretch. After this transition chapter, there is major fluff ahead. Also, the OCs’ names here, Amaruq and Takanni, both mean wolf in Inuit.

For the second day in a row, Katara’s healing lessons were cut short. Yesterday Dr. Yang was called into emergency surgery just after they finished a tour of the capital hospital. Katara desperately wanted to observe, but apparently the doctor ran things like the military, and she’d have to move up through the ranks first.

I’m already a master healer in the Water Tribe, Katara seethed. Although they didn’t do surgeries in the South Pole. It sounded fascinating… and also very serious, she conceded. She was here to expand her healing knowledge, not flaunt it.

Besides, she couldn’t complain too much because it meant she could spend the rest of the day with Zuko. Or the parts of his day that he wasn’t running between meetings, at least.

Today’s lessons with Dr. Yang were hard. Of course the royal family’s physician would be an expert on burn care. The method for making burn salve was frustratingly technical. Katara couldn’t stop thinking about Zuko’s scar, speculating on how he got it, wanting to know for sure. Would waterbending have healed it when it first happened? Could she heal it now with spirit water from the North Pole oasis?

Dr. Yang sensed Katara’s distress and insisted she take a break. Katara said she didn’t need one. Dr. Yang said some just don’t have the stomach. Katara cut her off with a stomp of her foot and loudly proclaimed, “I can do this!” Before their brewing argument reached full steam, though, two blue-clad tribesmen interrupted them.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Katara,” the younger one, Amaruq, said. “But there’s a problem with the air ship.” He cast a sideways glance at his fellow crewman.

The other one, Takaani, cleared his throat. “Yes, um… we were preparing for the trip back home when we found a stowaway in the engine room.”

Katara’s curiosity was definitely piqued. “I’ll come take a look.”

She resolutely ignored Dr. Yang’s glare and whatever the doctor mumbled under her breath as she left.

“Ohhhh, aren’t you cute!?” Katara crouched down and reached a hand toward the cowering wolf pup in the corner of the air ship’s engine room.

The responding growl sounded too menacing to belong to such a ball of fluff.

“We think it’s hurt,” Takaani said.

“Burned, maybe,” Amaruq added. “Got too close to the heating mechanism.”

Katara stood and looked around the room. There weren’t many supplies in here, but she soon spotted what she needed. “Amaruq, give me your bag.”

“What? Why?”

Takaani gave his fellow tribesman a look that said, “She’s the Chief’s daughter. Give her what she wants,” with his eyes alone.

Katara smirked at them both. They had served on her father’s crew, barely older than Sokka and among the youngest to leave their village when the men went to war. Before that, they had all been childhood playmates, of sorts. Mostly Katara would just throw snowballs at her brother and his annoying friends.

She took the bag and sifted through its contents. Amaruq did not disappoint—proven Water Tribe, through and through. She pulled out a package of half-eaten seal jerky and slipped his yak-hide waterskin over her shoulder.

The wolf perked up at the scent of meat and scrambled toward the offered treat. When Katara inched closer, he shuffled back a few steps and eyed her warily. He was favoring his right front paw, she noticed.

“He’s probably starving,” Takaani said. “We only just found him, so he’s been in here since we left the South.”

It took careful coaxing to get the pup to eat. And he wouldn’t let Katara examine his paw until she’d given him the last slice of seal jerky. Amaruq lamented his loss by sighing dramatically.

The wolf finally crawled into her lap with a soft whimper. She placed glowing hands on his matted fur and felt the mangled skin knit itself back together. It might’ve been a burn, but she wasn’t sure. This probably meant she needed to swallow her pride when it came to Dr. Yang.

Takaani and Amaruq’s eyes widened at the sight. They hadn’t grown up with healers—or benders, even—in the South.

“He still needs a few more healing sessions,” she said.

“How long do you think it’ll be? Our orders from the Chief—“ Amaruq was cut off by Takaani’s fake cough.

“It’s OK. You go back to the South Pole,” Katara replied. “This little guy can stay with me.”

Later, at the predetermined nightly turtleduck pond meeting, Katara introduced her new pet to her anti-pet friend. Zuko nearly had a conniption fit when the wolf lapped up huge mouthfuls of pondwater.

“I guess he’s thirsty,” Katara said with a giggle.

Zuko gripped his topknot-less hair. “But doesn’t he eat—“

Mama turtleduck—Zali?—squawked loudly at the intruder, but the wolf paid her and her brood no attention. Right now, he only had eyes for Katara. Bright blue Water Tribe eyes. It struck her how something so simple could make her feel at home.

The pup settled in Katara’s lap, and Zuko chanced a pat on its fluffy gray head.

“He needs a name,” she said. “I’m at a loss because we usually name everything after wolves. I’m not sure what to name an actual wolf.”

“My uncle names animals after how he finds them,” Zuko mused aloud. “Like he named a meadow vole that once took residence in his billowy sleeve Jacuzzi. And he named this ostrich horse we had Song…” Zuko trailed off, suddenly downcast.

“He stowed away in the engine room on the air ship,” Katara said. “So, what’s in an engine room? Controls? Fuse?”

“You need something that fuses fire and water, I think.”

“Right… because the Fire Nation built the air ship and then traded with the Water Tribe. Hmm… what about Smoke? Or Steam?”

Zuko shrugged. “Or I was thinking because he’s Water Tribe, but living here in the Fire Nation.”

Right. Like me.

They sat in companionable silence until the sun went down. Katara felt a weary Fire Lord relax against her shoulder. With the wolf pup asleep in her lap, she sheathed her hand in glowing water and ran it along the injured paw.

There was something about the scene—being here in the Fire Nation, healing, tears falling. She closed her eyes and saw flashes of lightening, a new scar forming. She opened them to find him staring, worried.

There were no words to describe what had happened between them that night. And no words to describe what she was feeling. She tucked her head under Zuko’s chin and pressed her cheek against his chest, soothed by the steadiness of his heartbeat.

“I think I’ll name him Storm,” she said finally.

#zutara #zutara week #zutara week 2020

[sasorikigai]

How… How had he died? Scorpion was already dead, a wraith of the netherrealm with seemingly endless fuel to burn endlessly. But even he had his limits, and pushed them too far, too deep- Yang had seen it happening and felt it. Trying to feed as much of her own power as possible back. But it availed not. There the woman stood staring, lacerations like brush strokes on velvet skin, blood nothing more than a deep sanguine paint dripping down the canvas of the mortal form. Every step drawing the old warrior’s form closer towards her stalwart friend, echoing heavy in her ears while their foe seemed to cackle. What ever was being said was lost on the lost spiraling mind.

Both knees hit the ground with a hard thud and wet squish as she fell into the pool ever growing around the old Shirai Ryu Grandmaster, An entire world has been shattered and destroyed with just these scant last few seconds, an absolutely rending scar torn wide open once again within the emotional center of the brain, mind swirling with agony in seconds. As shaking hands carefully took hold of the limp body upon the ground, and brought it in closer to hold tight, her sorrow and anguish bubbled over into a choked sob. Fingers dug into the leather and armor of his garb while sanguine red ran free, vitae of the living mixing with that of his dead freely, staining her entire front crimson and covering his own the same way. Shoulders shook with the emotional over flow as all her control broke. Again and again failing to protect loved ones, desperately wanting to keep them close and fight side by side- but once more ends in death. Her yet remaining the survivor.

A warmth and tender kiss placed it’s self upon Hanzo Hasashi’s forehead while tears stained the ancient warriors cheeks and mask. But this was merely the calm before the storm… “I’m so sorry, Hanzo. 私はあなたの記憶を私と一緒に運びます。[I carry your memory with me.]”

Her body tensed then as the fuse was lit, Yang’s eyes turning sharply towards the gloating fiend, she couldn’t even truly see an identity any longer, just another threat to be brought low, 6 feet under, an opposition that needed to be broken. Blood boiled in her veins while the rage and anguish took over, arms ever so softly laying Scorpion down with a delicate touch. Before she stood. And eyes became wide and full of wrath, taking slow step after slow step. The powers of Light and Dark rushing up too meet the surface with unchained control,  shades of blacks and whites suddenly swirling about her form as if this were second nature now, eyes gleaming bright. Cracks under the skin starting to glow and tear, shining vibrantly gold. Every breath Yang took released hot puffs while lungs still burned.

It was then that she took the initiative, flinging herself into the raging Kombat without second thought while every single ounce of Arcana had been brought too bare. Swipes of magic and steel knives, reinforced knuckled gloves with explosive consequences. Everything rang wild within her ears as the soldier gave herself over too her instincts and power, a beast on a battle field fueled with the sole desire to avenge a man once so very close.  And she would carry his memory forwards, no matter how many years, until her dying breath.

My muse has died. Send in your muse’s reaction. || @yetremains​ || accepting 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Even now, as heavy as it feels, Scorpion could fit his heart into the remembrance of a time that he couldn’t bear to partake in. For his heart holds such terrible things in it and becomes stranger abiding this one body - it is so tender and fragile, but becomes heavy as a mountain, and he still continues to hold it, hold it against the perpetuated ache, as the rushing sanguine flood became a storm surge that would breach the sea walls, and leave adamantine bones drenched in salt, long eroded and sunken. Even his indomitable will and staunched body to serve righteous justice had overexerted, as the reserve depth of his hellfire extinguished his being, with eternal exhaustion wrapping Scorpion’s wilted body around him, confining him. Drowning beneath the whirlwind of emotions, Scorpion welcomed his own suffocating death sentence, with a huge breath of relief as the exquisite familiarity of excruciating pain gave away to become a vicious paroxysm, before the veiled Arcana of Netherrealm’s perpetuated curse would be siphoned out of him, rooting him in the very spot as the dwelling intensity and sharp tenacious will of his bladed eyes faded into the afterlife. 

He could still feel the pull of the tenacious life to stay and relent, bloody relent and push through the sinking descension - but living like this is a violation of the purity and sanctity of life itself. There is only lifeless acceptance in his dimmed eyes when he hears the monstrosity of infernal conflagrations crackling and grow in unprecedented multitude, and in its presence rests a piercing smirk, pulling him towards the abysmal oblivion, the eternal darkness as hollow wind of his last breath growling through the trees and upon his face - dried specks of tears and blood would scatter like cinder and smoke from the funeral pyre, adding further insult to injury. 

To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, Scorpion must not love. But then he suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes him unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy, he must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness. The inconclusive and broken logic of all this spirals down to Hanzo Hasashi’s whole existence, for he has had no escape nor sleep; just having been the living embodiment of pain to solely live for the others, to exact vengeance and set wrong to right. However, his chimerical dream and aspiration had been unfruitful and his unlife had him trapped like a cage, forced away from any purpose even in his freedom, as his purpose, ambition, and all the effort he had put forth to deliver vengeful retaliation had withered even his conquered death. With the sacked and lifeless eyes, the once sparkled sweeping strength of his hellfire would quench his sculpted being as the journey would come to an end. Once, life was a thread he couldn’t ever sever, an invisible connection that pierced through his heart, but with the finality of his departure, Hanzo Hasashi will join the numerous dead, and become witness to the world with anything other than pain and guilt. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || 

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ hellfire fibrillating beneath his skin (iv) #(mortal kombat 2021) #(relationships; yang) #yetremains #submission