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jakeysfallingsky · 1 year

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Among the Wildflowers - Chapter 1 - Jake Kiszka X Reader

Hi there, this was sitting in my phone notes for weeks and I finally turned it into a living document and realized it was 30k+ words in total - so please enjoy the first chapter of this story that was inspired by Jake's (not so new, now) haircut! There is much more to come for this story and much left to be written, but would love any feedback :)

Minors, please do not interact - 18+ content in upcoming chapters.

Summary: You're a hairstylist in Nashville, and the boys in Greta Van Fleet become your clients when they relocate to the city. They quickly all take a liking to you, one sweet guitarist especially. Jake is patient in his pursuit of you, but will your self-created set of rules hold you back from ever being anything more with him?

Word Count: 5600+

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol.

January 2020

It was a sunny winter day in Nashville, the cooler temperatures causing you to shiver as you walked from your car to the door of the salon you worked at. You had lived in Nashville since you were a teenager, relocating to the city with your family from the Midwest. Quickly falling in love with the vibrancy of the city, you knew this would continue to be your home for years to come.

You worked at a trendy salon, a lot of your coworkers also being younger. Most of your clientele were people around your age, and you enjoyed getting to know your diverse client base. Many artists of different varieties, people who worked for all of the surrounding record labels and studios, and of course - plenty of musicians.

Despite this, you tried to keep your personal life and work life separate. You didn’t accept the many invitations you received to come to art shows, local concerts, and simple hangouts. As much as you loved your loyal clients, you also wanted to remain a tried and true professional while you continued to establish your brand in the hair and styling industry. More than a few of your friends had their hearts broken by Nashville folks in the music or touring industries as well, and you had sworn off of dating anyone with a career that would take them away from the city frequently.

Sighing as you checked your schedule for the day, you saw that you had four new clients all back to back. You loved meeting new people and considered yourself a social butterfly, but you always tried to schedule a little extra time for first time appointments as you got to know your new client and their goals for their hair. Upon further inspection, you saw that three of the four individuals had the same last name and realized they had to be related.

“Hmm, some sort of family outing maybe.” You mumble to yourself as you get your area set up for the day. The first few appointments fly by quickly, and before you know it, there are four young men waiting at the front of the salon.

“Hi there!” You say cheerfully as you approach them. You introduce yourself and they go around and share each of their names as well. Sammy, Danny, Josh, and…Jake.

Jake is full on staring at you as you and his brothers speak. He’s left speechless as he takes you in - white Vans high tops, ripped black jeans cuffed at the ankles, black tank top that’s cropped just enough to show a sliver of your stomach and reveal your curves, and an oversized corduroy black button up over the tank. Your golden skin is accentuated by a dusting of freckles and your cheeks are tinted pink with a rosy hue. Your hair is gorgeous, long loose waves flowing down your back with curtain bangs swept along the sides of your striking eyes. There are words coming out of your full lips, but Jake isn’t listening. He’s realizing that you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes on, and his nerves start to run wild.

“Jake…Jacob! You there?” Josh asks with a pointed elbow to Jake’s side.

“Oh-oh god, sorry, what was the question?” Jake stammers, cheeks turning red with embarrassment as he comes back down to earth.

You giggle at Jake, knowing that he was checking you out and thinking he is just too cute. “I asked if you are triplets. I get that Danny is a chosen brother, but the three of you just look so similar.”

“Josh and I are identical twins, Samuel is three years younger.” Jake explains and Josh immediately follows with “But I’m the oldest! By 5 minutes!”

“Okay, if you’re the oldest, then you can go first. Let’s go, boys.” You tell them and they follow behind you.

Josh plops in your chair first, and after you discuss his trim and wash his hair, you start cutting and ask the group more questions to get to know them better. You learn that they’ve all just moved here from Michigan and they’re in a band together. Each of them is incredibly friendly, and you tell them about yourself as they share stories of their own. They almost feel like old friends, despite you just meeting them. They’re all quite chatty, except for Jake, who sits quietly and watches you interact with your brothers, chiming in with a brief answer to a question every now and then. Once Josh is all set, you trim Sam and Danny’s hair too, and then Jake is finally up.

“Your turn!” You say in an upbeat tone and Jake quietly takes a seat in your chair. His chestnut-colored waves flow past his shoulders down his back. “What are you thinking of doing with your hair today, Jake?” You ask as you start to inspect his hair, running your fingers through the ends.

“I uh, I don’t really like getting my hair cut,” he mumbles, “can you just take off the ends and even it out, please?”

“Yeah of course I can, I promise I don’t bite by the way.” You say cheekily and a small smile crosses his face and you take that as a win. He seems shy, but you can’t tell if that’s because he’s nervous about getting a haircut or he’s normally like this around new people. Jake’s uncharacteristic timidness is not lost on his brothers, who all picked up on that Jake is definitely nervous not only because he’s getting his hair trimmed, but because he thinks you are cute as well.

You push all of Jake’s long hair to the front of his shoulders and place a finger against where you think you should cut, about a quarter of an inch from the ends. “How does this sound?” You ask him.

“Sounds good.” He answers quietly and you nod and put a cape on him. The goosebumps rising on his neck where your fingers barely brush him is not lost on you, and you smirk to yourself as you take him over to wash his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you begin to work shampoo through his hair, and you look down at his beautiful features. He has a kind face with a strong jaw and cheekbones and full pink lips, with long lashes hiding the honey-brown eyes that you were careful to not get lost in earlier. He’s utterly stunning.

You finish washing his hair then take him back to your chair. You try to get him to chat a little bit more as you trim his hair, and you learn that he’s been playing the guitar nearly since he could walk, he loves to travel and cook, and he’s secretly a big fan of Imagine Dragons. The other three boys share a few looks, seeing the two of you really hit it off once Jake opens up a bit.

You finish his hair and ask him what he thinks. “Looks great!” He says with the corners of his lips curling up, and he means it.

You turn to the group and sigh. “Well boys, it was a pleasure spending some time with you today. I do hope you’ll come back to see me next time.”

Josh immediately spoke up. “Oh yeah, we all look great. You’re our person for sure. Don’t worry, you won’t be getting rid of us anytime soon.”

You laugh. “Good! I had fun meeting you all today.”

Sammy then piped in. “Do you want to go get a drink with us later? We don’t have a lot of friends here yet since we just moved a few weeks ago. And you’re really cool.” Jake’s heart started beating faster at the thought of spending more time with you.

You blush at Sammy’s invitation and compliment. “Oh, thank you so much for the invite. I already have plans though. I can recommend some good spots for you to check out.”

Jake’s heart sank a little, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you yet. “Yeah, can you give us a few spots?” He asked. You quickly wrote down a few of your favorite go-to spots and even your drinks of choice at each establishment and handed the paper to Jake.

“You guys have fun, and keep in touch!” You waved goodbye and each boy waved back, Jake shooting you a shy grin as he turned to leave.

You walked back to your chair and flopped into it, trying to slow the quick beat of your heart. Jake was certainly going to be trouble for you, if you weren’t careful.

The boys ended up going to one of the places you had recommended, and everyone got a beer, except for Jake. He ordered the drink you had written on the little piece of paper and smiled when he saw the bartender reach for bourbon. A girl after my own heart, he thinks to himself.

“Jake, my brother,” Sam starts once they’re at a table, “you fucked up by not getting her number.”

Josh and Danny nodded in agreement. “You were looking like a lovestruck fool back there, but so was she.” Josh said.

Jake shook his head. “Don’t say shit like that to me guys. She was so beautiful but way out of my league.” He took the first sip of his drink - your drink - and noted that it was delicious, because of course it was.

“Come on man, we wouldn’t lie to you. But, there’s always next time.” Danny said.

There were a lot of next times, as fate would have it. Each boy routinely came in alone, or together, to see you. They quickly became your favorite clients. You really hit it off with each of them in a friendly way, and it pained you a little to turn down their frequent invitations to get a drink, dinner, come to a BBQ, go to a show, or even just hangout. But, the Kiszka’s and Danny were relentless, partly because each boy thought you were just the coolest and so fun, and partly because each of them wanted to set you up with Jake desperately.

The boy was down bad for you. The confident and collected rockstar found himself a nervous mess every time he saw you. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed every time you rejected his or his brother’s invitations to do something together. Jake could feel that there was chemistry between you two, but something was holding you back.

Eventually, because the boys were big fans of yours, you were hired by Greta Van Fleet’s team to style the boys for photoshoots and promo that they needed to shoot, so you ended up seeing them more frequently than every couple months. There were even a few select occasions where you were flown out to their sets across the country, when they were shooting something on tour away from home. Your feelings for Jake and platonic, friendly love for the rest of the boys grew and grew, and your resolve to continue your professional-only relationship with them was wearing thin after several years of them being only your clients.

•

Present Day, 2023

It was a sunny spring evening and the band came over to Jake’s to hang out. After a bit of practicing and playing some video games, everyone was hanging out on his back porch.

“What are you guys up to for the rest of the week?” Danny asked.

“Jacob and I are getting our hair cut tomorrow, I forced him to make an appointment with me,” Josh replied as he grabbed another drink, “he needs one.”

“I do not.” Jake grumbled from his seat.

Sam looked closely at his brother’s hair. “You definitely do, probably a few inches, Jake,” Sam started, “you have split ends out the wazoo. Go for below the collarbone or something.”

Josh hummed in agreement. “See! Told you. That would look good.” Jake just shook his head in response.

Danny chimed in as well. “Don’t be nervous Jake, aren’t you excited to see your favorite girl tomorrow?”

Jake sighed and nodded with a wistful smile. The rest of the boys of course knew how Jake felt about you, but no one knew just how deep Jake’s feelings and adoration ran for you.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to see her.” Jake said as he stared into his drink.

“You should see if she wants to hang out with us Jake, it’s been awhile since anyone has tried to invite her somewhere.” Sam added.

Jake nervously chuckled and the conversation shifted. Eventually, everyone headed out for the night and Josh clapped his twin on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ll pick you up.” Jake muttered a quiet thanks and said goodnight to his brother. He trudged upstairs to start getting ready for bed.

Jake sighed as he looked in the bathroom mirror. His brothers were right, he really did need a good amount of hair cut off. The thought of that scared him, but he knew if he asked you for something different with his hair, you’d make it look good no matter what.

He brushed through his long tangles and took a frizzy lock of hair in his hand. He folded it back at different lengths to see how it looked in the mirror. It was then that he decided for sure that he would ask you for something shorter. His stomach filled with nerves at the thought of how much of his long hair would be chopped tomorrow, but he knew he needed it with how damaged and dry his hair was.

Jake crawled into bed and pulled up your Instagram to see if you had done anything fun lately to try to calm his nerves about what he was going to ask you to do to his hair.

He remembers the day you followed him back, over a year ago, he felt like he had won the lottery. Every now and then, you two would DM back and forth, sending each other silly or interesting posts. Jake didn’t post often, but his stomach always filled with butterflies when he would see you like his posts or leave a comment.

He saw your recent post from a couple days prior that he had missed and smiled as he scrolled through your photo dump. He loved your bright smile and rosy cheeks that shone in each photo of you with your friends and family. Once he swiped to the last photo, his heart dropped. It was you and a man he didn’t recognize from your other posts, wrapped up in each other's arms at the top of a hike somewhere. Jake frantically tapped the tagged username, scrolling through the profile that unbeknownst to him, was for your high school best friend who had moved out west and was in a committed relationship with his partner. Once Jake saw the series of recent photos of your friend with his partner, relief washed over him.

He sighed as he flopped back onto his bed, realizing that he was in way too deep for someone that won’t even hang out with him in a group setting. Jake decided that he would invite you to do something, one last time tomorrow, and if you declined his invitation, he would try to move on, even though the thought of that broke his heart.

•

The next day was sunny and warm, putting a smile on your face as you walked to work in the morning. The weather was great, you were in one of your favorite comfy work outfits, and you knew you’d get to see a couple of your favorite clients today.

The morning went by quickly and before you knew it, the twins arrived and were up front.

“Hey guys!” You greeted them cheerfully. Josh popped out of his seat and smothered you in a big hug. “My sweet girl! How are you?”

You giggled and let go of Josh, missing the frustrated look on Jake’s face behind you.

Did he seriously just call her that?

“I’m great! It’s so good to see you both. How are you guys doing?” You spun towards Jake and he gave you a nervous smile. You didn’t initiate a hug and his smile fell a little.

“I’m good, except for the fact that my brother got a hug and I didn’t.” God, that made me sound so pathetic.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you tugged Jake’s arm into you and lightly wrapped your arms around his waist as his came around your upper back. “Let it be known that the first hug was forced upon me but this one I’m choosing to partake in.” You teased, looking up at Jake, and his cheeks turn pink as Josh scoffs. You let go of Jake and wave both boys back to your area. It’s a quiet afternoon, so your chair and the one next to you are both open.

It’s no surprise to you when Josh flops into your chair, signaling that he’ll go first. Despite being completely head over heels for you, Jake still hates getting his hair cut and always lets his brothers go first if they’re there with him. Jake slides into the other chair and turns to face you and Josh.

You run your fingers through Josh’s curls. “I kind of like how loose your curls are,” you say, “I don’t really want to perm it today.”

Josh nodded. “If you could just clean up the sides and trim the rest, I think I’ll be good.”

You know Josh well enough to know exactly what he wants and you hum in agreement as you throw the cape around him. “We’ll be right back, Jake.” You say as Josh gets up. Jake silently nods and goes back to twiddling his fingers in the chair.

You wash Josh’s hair and give him a scalp massage and he sighs. “I swear your fingers are magic.” He says loud enough for his brother to hear, trying to get a rise out of him. Jake rubs his face out of annoyance, but your response quells his anxiety.

“Stop being weird.” You snort as you turn the water off and wring his hair out. You take Josh back to your chair and comb his curls and pin them up. You grab your clippers and run them up the sides of his head, then trim up the rest of his longer hair as you two chat, Jake staying quiet next to you both. Running curl product through it, you diffuse his curls and he’s done within a matter of minutes.

“What do you think?” You ask him. “Perfect, as always. You’re the best.” He responds and your cheeks darken at his compliment.

Josh gets out of the chair and smacks his twin on the side of his head. “Your turn!” He says loudly.

Jake stands and sits in your chair without a word. You begin to run your fingers through the ends of his long unkempt waves. “You’re being awfully quiet today.” You tell him and he shrugs nervously. “Mind if we take these off?” You point to his sunglasses and before Jake has the chance to open his mouth, you’ve come around to his front and gently grasp both sides of his sunglasses and slide them off of his face. You turn to put his glasses on the counter and miss the way Jake’s lips part slightly out of shock and the deep blush that runs across his cheeks. Josh silently snickers, watching his brother.

You come back around to be behind Jake and grab your brush, knowing your fingers will not be successful in detangling his hair. His hair is the longest it’s ever been and flows down his back and chest, but it’s unfortunately riddled with split ends and damage. He only lets you trim the very ends off every time he comes in because he hates getting his hair cut that badly.

You brush his frizzy waves out and look at him in the mirror. “Just the usual? Quarter inch off your ends?”

Jake clears his throat, his nerves rising. “Actually um, I wanted to try something different today.” He says quietly.

It’s your turn to be shocked now. “No way! Like what?”

“Well, we’re doing this whole ‘back to our roots’ thing, and that’s kind of what Josh did with his hair when he changed it all those months ago, and my hair used to be a lot shorter, like before I knew you, so um, maybe like that?” Jake stammers.

You don’t want to allude to how excited you are to actually give him a real haircut that he desperately needs, so you calmly ask him if he has any photos while you run your fingers through his hair.

Jake is distracted by the feeling of your fingers running through his waves. He fumbles, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and his hands are shaking a little from nerves as he pulls up his Instagram. Your heart aches for him as you notice how nervous he is. “See this from like 6 or 7 years ago? Maybe like that?” He says as he holds his phone up.

You peer at his screen to see his hair hitting a little below his shoulders in a poofy one length style. It was very cute on him for sure, but with your skill, you knew you could give him a style that would be more interesting and fit his personality well.

“Hmm,” you hum as you run your fingers through his hair again, noticing that it seemed to soothe Jake a little, “that would definitely be good for the health of your hair, you’ve got a lot of damage going on. But maybe we could take this idea and give you the grown up rockstar version with some layers? Maybe take it shorter than these photos but still around your shoulders? That would be super fun. Does that sound okay to you?”

He gives you a soft smile despite his nerves. He’s unsure what’s making him more nervous right now, the idea of cutting his hair short or being around you. “Whatever you think would look best.” He softly tells you.

You can tell he’s a little unsure of such a big change. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind the chair and look at him in the mirror. He’s blushing again as you make eye contact. “This is going to be so cute on you, Jake! I’m so excited.” You say with a big smile and he gives you another small one in return as he nods.

You stand up straight and push his long hair to one side as you grab the cape and fasten it around his neck. You notice goosebumps rising where your fingers brush his skin and you smirk a little. “Let’s get you washed up,” you tell him as you turn to walk over to the shampoo bowls. He stands up and Josh gives him an encouraging pat on the back as he walks by.

Jake sits down and is rigid as a board. You place your fingers on his shoulders and try to get him to lean back. “Relax Jake, this is going to turn out so good.” You tell him. He sighs as he tries to settle in. “I know, I trust you, I just hate getting my haircut and this is a pretty big change.”

You start to wash his hair and notice his eyes close as you work your fingers into his scalp. “I’m proud of you, though. It can be scary changing something about yourself. You’re being brave.” You encourage him and he smiles with his eyes closed. “Thank you.” He says softly and you look down at him fondly as you finish washing his hair.

Walking back over to your station, he sits down gingerly as if the chair is going to swallow him up and eat him whole.

You grab his shoulders carefully and lean him back so he’s sitting against the back of the chair. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.” You tell him quietly, so only he can hear, and he runs a hand over his face. “I know, you’re the only one I’d ever trust to do something like this for me.” He admits shyly.

It’s your turn to blush and you break eye contact as you focus on detangling his wet hair. Jake notices the color flushing your cheeks and he smiles.

Josh is observing both of you silently and sends his brother a text when you walk to the back to grab different products for Jake’s hair.

Josh: Are you seeing the way she’s looking at you? And talking to you? And touching you? If you don’t ask her out today, you’re an idiot.

Jake: Really? Are you sure?

Josh: YES. This is painful. Make a move once we are ready to leave.

You come back and Jake hastily closes his messages as you continue combing his hair. You section the sides out and pin them up and section and pin up most of the back of his hair, too. A small section is left hanging down his back.

Jake is beginning to squirm as you get closer and closer to starting his haircut. “Are you ready?” You ask him, seeing his nervous movements in the chair. You want to make sure he really wants this as it’s such a big change, especially for him. “We can do something less drastic, or just a little trim if you want.”

“No, I’m ready, I’m good.” He tells you.

You nod and tilt his head down a little. Your comb is brought to where his neck and shoulders meet and you bring the scissors up. You glance down and see a good 6-7 inches of hair about to be cut off. “Okay,” you say, “I’m going to get started.” Jake doesn’t dare move his head, but moves his hand out from under the cape to give you a thumbs up silently. It’s such a Jake gesture that you almost laugh a little.

You close the scissors around his hair and watch the long locks fall to the ground. You continue snipping the rest of the section short, more and more of Jake’s hair falling.

You let down the next section and comb it out. “It’s looking good so far, Jake.” You say and Josh agrees. Jake gives you a nervous, close-lipped smile in the mirror that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So, what can you tell me about the new album?” You ask Jake, trying to get him to talk about something that you know he’s excited about. You continue combing and snipping and the gentle tugs and sounds of your shears cutting what feels like most of his hair off is distracting to Jake.

“Well, um, we finished it a few weeks ago.” He starts. You give an interested hum and he continues. “It’s, it’s interesting really because we recorded the entire album live together instead of each of us recording parts separately like a lot of musicians do.”

You stop cutting and look at him. “That’s so cool!” You say genuinely and he blushes again and rubs his chin. “Yeah, we are a live band at our core for sure so it made sense.” He mumbles.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear it.” You say as you finish cutting the back to just barely hit his shoulders and unclip the sides. His long hair tumbles down his chest for the last time. You pull the last of his long hair to the back and begin to cut it to just skim his shoulders as well. His hair is now definitely a few inches shorter than the photos he showed you, but you had a vision for how you wanted his hair to turn out and you knew he would love it when it was all done.

You finish cutting and ask him if he wants to see what’s been done so far. “Still needs layers, but it’s looking so great Jake, I think you’re really going to like it.” You tell him and Josh stands up to see how Jake’s hair ended up behind his shoulders.

“Looking good, brother.” He says encouragingly.

“Yeah, go ahead and show me the damage.” Jake chuckles nervously.

You grip the ends of his hair and with little effort, push it in front of his shoulders. He gasps as he sees how short his hair is. “Oh wow, this is different,” he says as he takes in the change in his appearance, “it looks a lot healthier.” You rub his shoulder reassuringly and notice the blunt ends of his hair tickling the back of your hand.

“It was pretty damaged Jake, but this is already looking amazing on you.” You tell him truthfully and he nods. He runs his hands through his hair and smiles as he feels how soft and healthy the ends feel. “I like this a lot,” he muses, “feels a lot like ‘me.’”

“I’m glad you think so, I agree.” you say as you begin combing his hair out again. You begin cutting a face frame and lots of layers, trimming more and more of his hair. After several more minutes of cutting and hair filling up Jake’s lap, you’re satisfied with his shaggy bob. You run wave product through his hair with your fingers and his eyes flutter shut involuntarily.

“This takes two seconds to put in your hair, but it will help your waves pop and not be frizzy.” You tell him and his eyes open and he nods. You diffuse his hair and mess it up a little with your fingers once it’s dry. You’re in love with how his hair turned out, seeing how it accentuates his gorgeous face.

“What do you think?” You ask and he grins as you take the cape off and he messes with his hair himself. He pushes his wavy hair behind his ears and the face framing pieces fall forward and your heart does a flip, seeing how cute he looks. “I love it,” he tells you with a big smile on his face, “I never would have asked for this myself but you did amazing, as always.”

“Aww, thanks Jakey.” You tease as he stands up and turns to his brother. “What do you think, Josh?”

“I think you may surpass me as the most handsome member of the band, maybe.” Josh answers with a toothy grin. “Looks great.”

Jake grabs his sunglasses and puts them on his shirt as you walk them to the front and they pay.

“Great seeing you both, as always. Don’t be strangers!” You say as you go to hug them both goodbye. Jake hangs on for a second longer than he should for a friendly hug and he clears his throat as he realizes this and steps back. Jake and Josh make eye contact and Josh swiftly says his goodbyes and steps out with the excuse that he has to make a phone call.

Jake turns to you, his nerves seemingly returning as he looks into your eyes and runs a hand through his hair, noticing there’s a lot less for his fingers to pull through.

“So, I was thinking, um, I know we’ve invited you out before to hang out and stuff and you’ve always said no but, I-I was wondering if maybe you’d want to come by our office and I could show you some of our new music?” He asks timidly and you feel butterflies erupt in your chest.

“You want to show me your new music?!” You ask him, shocked.

He nods and smiles. “I would love to. You’ve always been one of our biggest supporters since we moved out here.”

You take a deep breath, knowing you’re about to break your own rules, but something in the back of your brain is telling you that it’ll be so worth it for the sweet man standing before you. “That’s so cool of you to offer Jake, I would love to.”

The biggest smile breaks out across his face, his dimple popping and everything. He can’t believe you’ve agreed to spend some time with him, especially alone. “Are you free Saturday? Or Sunday? Or any day really, I could make anything work. Even today, later, anything-.”

You chuckle as you cut off his rambling. “I don’t work on the weekends, is Saturday okay?”

He nods enthusiastically and you hand him your phone with the contacts page pulled up. “Give me your number and I’ll text you.” You say with a soft smile and he looks at you sweetly as he takes your phone.

“Wow, I finally get your number after over three years? I don’t have to DM you on Instagram to talk anymore?” He says with a joking tone and you giggle. He hands you your phone back and you slide it into your pocket without looking.

“Let’s plan on Saturday morning, 10:00?” He asks. There’s something behind his eyes that looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“Perfect,” you say, “I can’t wait.”

“Me too.” he grins. “Thanks again for making me look good today.”

Feeling brave, you reach up to ruffle his hair and tuck some behind his ear before pulling him into another hug. He’s so flustered by that and it takes him a second before he wraps his arms around you.

“No problem, rockstar.” You say as you unwrap your arms from around him. His cheeks are bright red as you pull back.

“S-see you Saturday,” he manages to get out and you wave as he turns to leave.

Once he’s gone, you pull your phone out and see he added an emoji next to his name in your contacts. You smile, seeing he picked the red guitar emoji to follow his name.

Maybe, some rules are meant to be broken.

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka x you #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic

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copperbadge · 1 year

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“And here’s where the magic happens...”

Originally I bought this as a writing desk, but that was not long before the pandemic and it has saved my ass as the only place in the entire condo where I can comfortably have a video chat, so it became my work desk.

[ID: A workdesk in front of windows with the blinds drawn; the desk is patterned glass resting on sawhorse-style legs. It has two monitors on stands, a basket for cats to the left, the omnipresent glass of Diet Coke below one monitor, a wireless keyboard and mouse, a stand with a laptop on it behind one monitor, and a blue rug beneath the desk for keeping feets warm, along with a few knick-nacks. The monitors feature background art of a tardigrade captioned “Live Tiny Die Never”, by @sarahmckayart.]

I was considering skipping NaClYoHo today; I’m tired, and even with the Adderall just getting through the day is a lot. I did realize while cleaning that my constant poor mood lately is from temporary but ongoing pain from the broken ankle, so hooray for self-awareness, but it’s not like that helps the pain or the mood, so tonight I guess I’ll look into some ways to deal with that.

In any case I looked at the massive list of granular cleaning jobs I have and decided I could cope with wiping down the desk. So I cleared off everything but the cat basket, which is basically glued down, gave it a scrubbing, and put everything back except for a couple of items that I threw out or moved to more appropriate locations. And now I have a clean and decluttered desk, at which I can get absolutely no work done for the rest of the day.

Listened to “Hedonic Adjustment” by The Indicator and “How FTX Imploded” by The Journal, neither especially educational, and a significant portion of the latest episode of It’s Christmastown, “A Floating Meatball of Barbarism”, discussing the 2020 Hallmark film “USS Christmas”, which was a lot more fun.

#naclyoho #cleaning #desk #tardigrades

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mitchipedia · 9 months

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I am in awe of the mental gymnastics required to conclude that there's any solution to homelessness other than finding housing for people. It's like telling a drowning person that their real problem is they eat fatty foods.

“Housing First” policy does what it says—it attempts to address homelessness by finding housing for homeless people before attempting to solve other problems these people might have.

This common-sense solution has come under fire by critics, mostly Republicans, who claim that it fails to address the real causes of homelessness: Mental health and drug abuse. (And then the Republicans don’t want to do anything about mental health or drug abuse either. Well played, Republicans!)

However, numerous studies show Housing First works.

Two examples of Housing First implemented in San Diego “show that formerly homeless people are remaining housed and may be more open to rehab than if they had stayed on the street,” according to a report by Gary Warth in the San Diego Union-Tribune. www.sandiegouniontribune.com/news/home…

Out of 400+ tenants in two properties purchased for homeless housing in 2020, most original tenants are still there, and of the 15% who have moved away, nearly all are in other permanent housing or temporary housing.

But what about substance abuse? Some 25% of tenants self-identified as having substance abuse disorders. The actual number may well be higher because people are going to lie about that kind of thing.

Of those self-identifying as having substance abuse disorders, few seek treatment: Just 12%. That’s not much, but if you put these people in housing, more of them will live long enough to get into treatment, because the mortality rate of people on the street is four times higher than the general population.

Moreover, treatment is more likely to work if people are housed. Substance abuse treatment is difficult and painful, and even harder to do if you’re also dealing with the daily traumas of homelessness.

Also: the Voice of San Diego’s Will Huntsberry looks at four common beliefs about homelessness. voiceofsandiego.org/2023/07/2…

One myth is that homeless people are coming to California and San Diego to take advantage of the better weather and more generous social programs. But the reality is that most homeless people aren’t coming to San Diego from elsewhere; their last residence was right here, Huntsberry reports.

That makes sense: If you find yourself homeless, that’s a traumatic event, and you’re not likely to leave your support network of friends and family and go somewhere where you don’t know the neighborhoods, you don’t know where it might be safe to sleep, or how to go about finding work or benefits. www.nytimes.com/2023/07/1…

California has a bigger homeless problem than most places. The state is home to 12% of the country’s total population, but 30% of its homeless, Huntsberry reports.

Another belief is that many homeless don’t want to get off the streets. Even San Diego’s Democratic Mayor Todd Gloria supports that idea. But the reality is that shelters in San Diego are functioning at nearly full capacity every day of the week. “Far more people ask for shelter every day than receive it,” Huntsberry says.

The third belief is that mental health problems and substance abuse cause homelessness. It’s true that mental health problems and substance abuse are prevalent among the homeless–but those conditions don’t cause homelessness. We know this because places like West Virginia, which have high rates of drug use and mental illness, have low homeless rates.

Homelessness is caused by housing that is expensive and hard to find, which describes San Diego. timesofsandiego.com/business/…

Huntsberry cites a book, “Homelessness is a Housing Problem,” by Gregg Colburn and Clayton Page Aldern.

In their book, the researchers compare finding housing to a distorted game of musical chairs. In this game, some people have broken ankles and other ailments. These people are the most likely to be left standing when the music stops. So it is with housing. People with mental illness and substance abuse problems are the most likely to have problems getting housing in a tight housing market.

But in places where housing is affordable and abundant, people with mental illness and substance use disorders can usually maintain housing.

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tomlinsins · 4 months

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starting a new tag game to celebrate louis day!🎂✨🎉

when did you become a louie? my memory is fucked so as per evidence from google photos (aka when i started saving louis wallpapers), and instagram likes, i became a fan in mid 2020 but i joined the fandom in 2021.

your earliest fandom memory? watching afhf 2021 live! i'd only just joined twitter (before this i was mostly just taking my fill off my instagram for you page) and discovered "fandom" so i remember watching broken livestream vids on twitter and from ua's. had no idea angel humans streamed whole ass shows on ig and where to get the links from. and this was at 3am sitting in my washroom lol.

your favourite song? (1 off walls and one off fitf) two of us and holding onto heartache

your favourite music video? miss you/silver tongues

your favourite gig? afhf 2021 without a doubt. it was my first time watching louis live and not only that his vocals there man!! just wow!! i still watch it on youtube from time to time.

your favourite louis hair? there's just no match for peaky blinders louis (though cinnamon swirl comes close)

your favourite louis interview? it has to be either snack wars or tattoo breakdown. top notch comedy lmaoo💀💀💀

suit louis or tanktop louis? tanktop louis

favourite louis tattoo? the knuckle tatts 🔥

favourite louis bodypart? (c'mon we all have one!) ankles!!! please louis let them out i'm beggingggg 😭😭😭😭

tagging @milfmas @mynightsoutofsight @redpantslouis @fadeintolight @louistour @pop-punklouis @louisarmpits @thechavier @whatifai @wecantalktomorrow @footy-met-mussy @505louis @louisgayvodka and anyone else who wants to do it! (no pressure ofc <3)

#tag games #axp

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hwsforeignrelations · 1 year

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Knightly Interruption

Notes: Written for a 2020 Halloween event. USUKUS, word count: 378

“Arthur!” Alfred screeched, weakly swatting at the hands. Despite his movements being shaky, his hard glare was not. “You know I ain’t into this freaky shit!”

Arthur walked closer, not wanting to attract the knight's attention if Alfred wasn’t in immediate danger. He shrugged, holding his elbows and falling into a relaxed stance. “What am I supposed to do? Exercise the good man?”

America nodded vigorously.

“I can’t,” Arthur stated simply. The air was sharp and sliced through the stitches of his sweater to bite his flesh. And their wine had spilled into the grass. Damn.

It hadn’t a head, the top of a rotted spine protruding from the gaping hole of its neck. Its armor was in tatters with broken bits of rusted shrapnel embedded in a series of exposed ribs. Metal scattered the graveyard soil in a trail.

And all this drama because they’d (unintentionally, accidentally) rolled over an unmarked grave after sharing a bottle of sherry. England only managed the buckle of America’s belt before the soil underneath them broke and a rotten hand shot out and snagged America’s ankle.

The grip was unexpectedly firm (for a dead, headless knight) so when America cried out and dragged himself away, he hauled the rest of the body out from the deep caverns of the graveyard floor.

Coming to a decision, Arthur walked over and tapped the knight on the shoulder who turned around with an awful sound of rusted chain mail grinding, and asked kindly, “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

The knight stopped pawing America’s quivering back and turned its busted front to face England.

Damp hands encompassed his and shook them firmly, a clear yes. When Engalnd squeezed back it dropped their shake and stumbled to kneel over a packed patch of dirt, gesturing at it with creaking, slow, but communicative motions.

Then it pointed to a gross-looking shovel propped against an iron gate.

England didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that America was passed out and went to grab the tool with a sigh.

Planting the shovel into the dirt and jamming his foot over the edge, the Brit bemoaned how differently this night would’ve gone if they just remained on the blanket.

“Just a moment, sir.”

#hetalia #usuk #hws england #hws america #fanfic

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meret118 · 8 months

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Asp caterpillars spend most of their time innocently crawling along the branches of oak and elm trees in North America. But when these hairy creatures come into contact with humans, they use their concealed, prickly spines to inject a painful venom into their victims.

The sensation is so excruciating that one sting-sufferer in Texas said it felt like she’d broken her ankle—the feeling was “staggering” and “intense,” as Jordan Meredith told KTRK in 2020. After being stung by one of these caterpillars—which grow into moths, such as the southern flannel moth and the black-waved flannel moth—people often go to the hospital.

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aparticularbandit · 1 year

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The Thrall of Magic VII - 2020‘s (I)

Chapter Summary: Sometimes it feels like magic is a noose about her throat, manacles about her wrists and ankles, a knife through her back.

She shouldn’t even be alive, and yet magic refuses to let her die.

Agatha still hasn’t determined if that is a good thing or a bad one.

companion piece to Kisses Through The Decades

Agatha Harkness/Wanda Maximoff Chapter Rating: T Fic Rating: M for dark themes and sexual content

AO3

previous chapter / next chapter

Magic rolls over her like a wave.

Magic rolls over her like a wave, and Agatha sits as though on the shore at riptide, waiting for it to pull her out far, far from shore.

Agatha closes her eyes, and Agatha waits, and magic rolls over her and surrounds her, and magic protects her from magic, magic as a shield about her, magic to hold her afloat instead of being drawn down and under, magic allowing her to tread water as the riptide comes, magic the tide and magic the shield and magic in and on and through and around her.

Agatha takes a deep breath in, and she breathes in magic, and she lets a deep breath out, and she breathes out magic, and Wanda casts her spell and it does not touch her because Wanda cast her spell and Agatha Harkness is immune.

Her clothes change and magic provides Wanda with an illusion that she wants to see and Agatha stares up and speaks words without thinking and she breathes in and she breathes out and Wanda does not notice because she only ever sees what she wants to see, and so when Agatha wrapped in Agnes feigns the Agnes she has been feigning from the beginning, how could she ever notice?

Wanda hadn’t known to look before, didn’t think to look now, and sees nothing.

She’s never been very good at noticing subtleties.

(Not that the brooch unmarked, unchanged, and still glistening at Agatha’s throat is subtle.)

The Hex falls, and it peels away from the skies, from the world surrounding them, from a Westview whose residents were already freed of their torture, so why does it now need to fall, except that it’s breaking Wanda, except that she cannot keep it going without destroying herself, except that she won’t be destroyed by its falling anymore, except that without draining her these broken spells cannot continue, except that, except that, except that—

The Hex falls, and Wanda leaves, and Agatha stands in the empty framing of a house that never really existed, except that it did, briefly, for a few weeks, under the spell of a witch who did not know what she was and still does not know who she is, and the only thing she regrets is that she allowed that little witch to take the Darkhold with her.

The only thing she lets herself regret, anyway.

(There was no way to prevent Wanda from taking the Darkhold once she’d used it as an example, not without Wanda realizing that Agatha was still Agatha, not without Wanda realizing that Agatha was immune to her casting, not without Wanda realizing that Agatha—)

She will not lie to herself.

Agatha cannot stand in the clothes of the Agnes that Wanda crafted for her in the absence of the house that Wanda once crafted for herself and not think of the witch who left her here, alone.

Not without a useful distraction, at least.

“I did what you wanted, love.”

The words growl hushed through Agatha’s lips as she curls fingers into magic’s fur, tightens them to soothe herself with its softness, with its comfort. “I did what you wanted,” she repeats, softer somehow. “I taught your girl how to save herself, and she tried to kill me for it – kill me – and you would have let her—”

Except that it didn’t. Hadn’t.

Agatha presses her lips together and stares into the empty dirt in front of her. “Now what?” she whispers. “Your girl saved herself, and now she’s gone. Left me here. I don’t know what you want from me—”

“Hey.”

Agatha startles as someone she hadn’t noticed knocks into her – and that’s a shock in itself, that she hadn’t noticed the other person’s approach, that she’d been so stuck on herself that someone could get this close without her so much as feeling the vibrations of their frustrating thoughts – and she shuffles away, stares up, sees none other than Ralph standing next to her. She blinks up at him. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Ralph holds his hands up in a defensive position and steps back from her, adding to the distance between them. “You just seemed, uh, I don’t know.” He has glasses now. Thick GI glasses, thick and black and oddly adorable. But in the same way that puppies are adorable, not actually cute or anything like that. He’s too much of a boy. He blinks behind the glasses, pulls them off, wipes them clean with the corner of his shirt, and puts them back on. “Lost.”

Well, that’s more true than Agatha would like to admit. “Why do you care, hon?” she asks. “I hexed you for quite a few days there. You should hate me.”

Ralph chuckles. “Way I hear it, if it weren’t you, it would’ve been the other missus, and she brought nightmares.” He shudders. “Got enough of those on my own without having to know hers, too, you know? Way I see it, you did me a favor.” On a second thought, he reaches up, rubs the back of his neck where a bruise is just beginning to appear. “Mostly.”

“That’s a funny way of looking at it.”

“I guess.” Ralph looks her over, and his brows knit together. “Surprised you didn’t leave with that other witch. As I remember it, the two of you were pretty—”

“Don’t.” Agatha shoots him a look. Scans him for a few seconds. One brow raises. “How would you even know what we were like, dear? As I recall, you weren’t around the two of us at the same time.”

Ralph shrugs. “Just a feeling.” He glances over to his house – to the place where she had lived for the past several…. Well, she doesn’t know how long it’s been, so she can’t say how long she was living there. “Do you, uh.” He winces and then turns back to her. “You’re not planning on moving in again, are you? You weren’t a horrible roommate, but I, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’d rather not have to worry about being spelled or—”

“I’m not going to hex you again, dear.” Agatha sighs. She reaches down to shove her hands in her pockets only to find that the black slacks Wanda’s attempted to curse Agnes into wearing are the sort with the fake pockets. Her teeth grind against each other. “I don’t really have a use for you anymore.”

“Well, that’s a right shame,” Ralph says, glancing up at the sky, able to shove his hands in his very real pockets. “I kind of enjoyed having that super speed. Could use having it again.”

Agatha’s brow raises again. “Even if it’s not fully under your control?”

Ralph gives a half-hearted shrug. “I mean, you could hex me into having it and not, uh, all that control stuff, right?” He tries to meet her eyes with a boyish smile, and if she didn’t know better, Agatha would think it was an attempt at something more. But, no, he’s just giving her a grin and hopeful eyes, and even now, his expression is faltering, falling. “Nah, don’t worry about it,” he says before she can answer, placing a hand on her shoulder as easy as anything. “I’d need goggles or something. Besides, not sure I want to get roped into all that superhero stuff. Just got out, you know? And they’d find a way to rope me back in.”

They never found a way to rope me in, Agatha thinks but does not say, and she thinks of Cian, and her fingers clench instinctively. Magic swirls around her, through her, and in her, comforting, assuring. Still, her teeth grind against each other; still, she forces that feeling down. Again, she repeats, “What do you want, dear? Don’t tell me you stopped here to chat with a witch for the lulz.” She shrugs her shoulder out from under his touch and glances up just enough to meet his eyes through his thick lenses. “I’m not going to hex you – good or evil – and I’m not moving in with you. So. What do you want?”

“Are you planning to stay?” Ralph holds her gaze with all the intensity of someone who knows he’s out of his league but has the assurance that he won’t be cursed for having courage and questioning the person with greater power. “In…in Westview, I mean.” His gaze drops as his words falter, and he rubs the back of his neck again. “Are you staying?”

Agatha stares at the boy, at his awkward stance, one hand still in his back pocket and the other on the back of his neck, half-hunched over just to avoid her eyes. “Wanda left me here for a reason, hon—”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything.” Ralph’s dark gaze flicks up to meet hers again, briefly, and then fades away again, examining the empty space where the Maximoff household once was. “You don’t have to stay here for her. It’s not like she’s ever gonna come back for you. You could just leave.”

“If I do, I know where to find you.”

Something in the center of Agatha clenches just as much as her fingers did at the thought of Cian – more, if she’s honest with herself – that if lingering in the back of her head, reverberating with the knowledge that Ralph is absolutely right. She could leave. It would serve Wanda right, for leaving her here, for constantly overdoing things with her spells and not checking to make sure they did what she wanted with no side-effects whatsoever, for refusing to be subtle. For refusing to learn anything about magic, about what it likes, about what it wants, about what it does. It would serve her right, to come back and find that Agatha had broken free of her spell (this isn’t the case; the spell never landed; but Wanda wouldn’t understand that) and disappeared entirely.

Except….

Agatha’s left hand curls, twists, calls magic to thread through her fingers the way someone else might pull a coin, back and forth and back and forth. She takes a deep breath in. (Ralph’s eyes focus on the thin strings of ebony-tinted violet, wide but unafraid.) “I’ll give her a chance to change her mind, hon,” she murmurs, twisting her hand once more, fingers tightening into a fist around the magic that dissipates as soon as it notices the constraint. “You never know.”

Ralph shrugs, shoves his hand back into his other pocket, and scuffs his shoe along the ground. “You should stay in the other house.”

“What other—”

“The one on the other side.” Ralph tilts his head to the left, to the house that had been Dottie’s, when Wanda ran Westview. “No one lives there, and if she ever comes back looking—”

“She’ll come here,” Agatha completes for him, near breathless. She looks up at him. “Smart move, brother.”

Ralph shrugs again and doesn’t meet her eyes. “Just a thought.” He almost grins. “Didn’t survive the past decade without picking up a few things, even if I am a little hard-headed.” He knocks his knuckles against his head and chuckles lightly.

“We’re all a little hard-headed anymore, hon.” Agatha leans up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “Thank you.” Then, noting his sudden blush, she comments, “I’m not interested, love.”

“I, uh, didn’t think you were.”

“Just clearing it up,” Agatha says as she turns away from Ralph and starts to the vacant house that will now become her own. She waves at him. “Good seeing you, neighbor.”

“Wait!” Ralph calls after her. “What do I call you?”

The question honestly shouldn’t cause Agatha to pause. There’s only one answer that would be right to give. And yet, still, she stops, hesitates just in front of the door of the abandoned house that she is now about to inhabit, and, as she tucks her fingers into magic, subtly indicating that it should unlock the door for her, considers. Not that there’s anything to consider. She doesn’t look up, just focuses on the doorknob, presses her fingers gently against it, turns, and nearly smiles. “Agnes,” she says, voice soft, as soft as she can, but making sure that the word travels across the threads of magic in and around and through everything straight into Ralph’s ears. “Call me Agnes.”

The thing about houses in suburbs such as the one where Vision bought his little plot of land is that most of their floorplans are nearly identical, other than being flipped one way or the other so that they look just slightly different from the house next to them, other than the decorations or styles or colors used on their exteriors to make them seem something other than exactly the same. If Wanda had played happy housewife in the house that was meant to be built here, she likely would have found herself in a house copy-and-paste like Agnes’s – like Ralph’s – or like Dottie’s (Sarah’s), if she’d ever gone inside it. But Wanda’s imagination built her house the way she wanted it, not as the foundation implied it should be, and while Agatha’s imagination – and her subtle casting sending quivers along magic’s design – could do the same with the house she now inhabited, she had little desire to waste her time doing so.

It’s a house. Sure, it looks like the other houses, but it’s not somewhere she’s planning on staying forever, so what’s the point in forcing it to look nice? Besides, Agatha has lived in so many different kinds of houses throughout the centuries that she doesn’t really care about how this one is structured, so long as the foundation is good (it is) and she doesn’t have to worry about it falling in on her (she doesn’t). It just needs to do what she needs it to do.

Inside, the house looks nearly dilapidated. Dust covers the floor, the windowsills, the mantle above the fireplace; swirls in the air wherever she steps, dancing with magic as it pushes out before her; shadows the places her footprints left behind. Sure, sure, Agatha could snap her fingers and convince magic to clean this place out for her, but while she’s often been one to avoid hard work when she can, she rarely forces magic to do it for her. There’s something normal about cleaning, something calming.

Now, yes, she does need to transfigure a broom out of a speck of dust, but that’s not so bad. Magic appreciates when Agatha does things herself.

At least, Agatha likes to think it does.

(Magic couldn’t care in the slightest one way or the other. It simply is. That’s what Agatha knows, what she’s been taught, what she’s read in a hundred thousand books on the subject – including the Darkhold, which is how she equally knows that assumption is wrong. The Darkhold teaches magic in a way that it should be forced into submission, torn and ripped from one place to another, shredded apart so that one can use it to walk in places where they were never meant to be.

In short, the Darkhold lies.

Agatha has known magic for hundreds of years, has studied it out, has breathed it in and lived with it as a constant companion, has stroked its threads for comfort on her most terrifying times, has felt its desperation when her own nearly destroyed her, when it summoned a sorcerer who couldn’t even summon it to bring her back. It pretends not to care, but it does, on some level. She knows this from experience.

That doesn’t mean she can predict it one way or the other.)

Agatha shifts her clothes into something more fitting a cleaning woman, untying the threads of Wanda’s magic maintaining the Agnes illusion and retying them in different, better, stronger ways. She’d always liked those old World War II propaganda posters – Rosie the Riveter in her denim and handkerchief – and she changes her outfit into something closer to that, only in the softest shade of lavender with a violet and ebony handkerchief. Purple is her theme color, after all, so why not maintain her theme, even if she’s the only one to see it. For all that she’s a witch with a broom, she’d never actually ridden one of the things, but holding one, she must seem the perfect image of a witch to someone who didn’t know any better.

But sweeping – and dusting – and checking the pipes (and fixing the leaks that she finds) – and catching spiders in her bare hands before setting them gently outside – takes a great deal of time. And all of that time, Agatha spends thinking.

Right now, Agatha is certain of two things – three, if she lets herself consider it:

1) Wanda Maximoff is the long-awaited Scarlet Witch. 2) Magic brought her – Agatha Harkness – here to save her. 3) She, Agatha Harkness, has developed feelings for the Scarlet Witch.

And a fourth to all of that – right now, there is no one in the world who hates her so much as Wanda Maximoff.

Which really puts a damper on that last one, not that Agatha is thinking about that. To be honest, it kind of puts a damper on the second one, too, because if magic insisted on bringing them together, it doesn’t quite matter if Wanda hates her or not, it will bring them together again. That’s the thing about magic – no matter how powerful (or not) its users might be, magic is more powerful than them all, and it does what it wants with whoever it wants.

Even Wanda Maximoff.

Even the Scarlet Witch.

And – to be fair – it’s that second one that most wants to draw Agatha’s focus, demands to be considered, but before she can even get to that, she has to address the first one. Because the thing of it is this – Wanda isn’t the only person who could have been the Scarlet Witch. She’s just the first person to accept the title and step into the role.

Agatha pauses in front of the fireplace after sweeping out soot and ash, cheeks tinted with darkness like blush, and considers, not for the first time, that she hadn’t known what she’d been refusing. Her mother and her first coven mentioned the Scarlet Witch in hushed, terrified tones on the odd occasion, but they’d never told her what the term meant. She wasn’t old enough – nothing about station because even the lowest witches in the hierarchy knew the title, if they were past a certain age – and when Cian brought her with them to the London Sanctum, they’d whispered it about her, accusing her of being something she did not know or understand. Perhaps that was the way of it, that a witch could only accept and ascend with the bare minimum of knowledge, that once they knew enough to understand the weight of what they were taking on, magic ripped it away from them entirely.

She’d had a chance, once, to be magic’s favorite.

She hadn’t known.

That’s the real difference between Agatha and Wanda, wasn’t it? That Agatha chose fear and Wanda chose acceptance.

Agatha rubs her nose with the back of her hand and doesn’t notice how she blackens it.

It isn’t as though Agatha hadn’t wanted to reclaim the title later, but the thing of it was that she’d already denied it. Maybe that was why magic really brought her here, not to save Wanda, but to show her what would come of someone who accepted the role of the Scarlet Witch. Maybe that’s why it let Wanda shield her so completely, why it took her desire and protected Agatha, so that she would always be aware, always know, and…and what?

Sometimes it feels like magic is a noose about her throat, manacles about her wrists and ankles, a knife through her back.

She shouldn’t even be alive, and yet magic refuses to let her die.

Agatha still hasn’t determined if that is a good thing or a bad one.

If Agatha hadn’t been here, Wanda – most likely – would have died. She knows that. The magic Wanda tried to wrap around her little finger would have snapped it clean off, would have overwhelmed her just as those darling twins of hers drew their first not newborn breaths, would have consumed her alive while she tried to maintain spells too broken to maintain themselves without drawing their power from her. She knows that.

The question is why magic would have wanted to draw Agatha here in the first place, why magic should care so much for this war-torn child as to fill her with this power that she can’t control, and on which no one – no one – seems to care to train her. Why magic chose someone as ignorant as Wanda Maximoff to channel it at its greatest, why it would let her take a title she didn’t deserve.

As if anyone deserved any gifts that magic deigned to give them.

The Infinity Stone was a red herring. It only gave Wanda a vision (hah!) of the future, of what would be possible for her if she survived long enough to grasp it. The magic was always there, waiting for her to reach out for it again, but Wanda’d forgotten what she’d done as a child and hadn’t been in dire enough straits to need to click into that power as she had when she was younger. But that child casting a hex without thinking, without words, without runes or incantations – Wanda had always had the potential to become the Scarlet Witch. She just hadn’t known what it was or what she was.

And as soon as Wanda accepted one, she accepted the other, as though they were both one and the same thing.

And Agatha had pushed her into that, into accepting something that Agatha wanted most for herself. Probably not the best of her ideas. But if this was who magic wanted to choose – and if this was who magic had sent her to help choose – then….

Agatha takes a deep breath in, wipes the sweat from her brow, and stands in the empty living room. It looks better. Much better. She rests her wrist on her hip, rag dangling from her fingertips, and nearly smiles. Almost time to add her own personal flare.

Almost.

There are – and always have been – and always will be things that Agatha does not understand. She knows that. She accepts that. She just regrets that for all she loves magic, it doesn’t reveal itself to her more completely. It isn’t that she’s not content; she is. But she’s not satisfied either, and that’s harder to grapple with.

Agatha has lived a long time. Seen a lot of things. Learned a lot of things – as much as she can – and yet…unsatisfied. She feels it as certain as she feels magic coursing through her veins. When she was younger, she was confused and thought that meant magic was not satisfied with her, but as she got older, as she did everything she could to try and appease magic enough that it wasn’t dissatisfied with her anymore, she realized it wasn’t magic at all. It was her.

What is so wrong with her that she could have escaped the punishment of her coven, that she could have been kept alive by a sorcerer who didn’t know well enough to let her die, that she could have her life lengthened by magic itself, that she could have all of this time to study and fall deeper in love with what she has always loved – and still be unsatisfied? What else does she want? Magic even allowed her to see – and have a hand in – the ascension of the woman it most infused with its power! What more could she ask for?

Perhaps she simply doesn’t want to be alone.

It is as Agatha sets the last throw pillow into place on her bed – who is she kidding, Agatha doesn’t believe in throw pillows, but she does believe in having as many pillows as she wants available in case she wants something softer for her back, on the days where she lessens the sorcery to use it for something else (very rarely, but it still happens, on occasion) – that she hears the doorbell ring. She straightens up, presses her hands into the small of her back, and then makes her way down the stairs to the front door. Her eyes widen as she looks through the peephole, and her brows raise as she opens the door. She knows the name of the spindly blonde woman standing in front of her – knows the name Wanda gave her (Dottie) and knows her real name (Sarah) – but she doesn’t know why she should be standing there in the first place.

“Ralph told me I could find you here,” Sarah says after a few moments of silence. She doesn’t smile; if anything, she appear so nervous that she could be covered with sweat without it looking out of place. Her hands wring together in front of her. “He said you were…you were staying? Here? With us?”

Agatha paints on her best Agnes smile and gives a little nod. “Sure thing, hon. Don’t know what I’d do without Westview!” She forces her eyes to light up, which isn’t hard, given how comforted she is with what she has done inside her new house. “Can I help you with something?”

Sarah’s dark eyes widen the smallest bit, and on an instinct, she reaches out, places a hand on Agatha’s, and whispers in a hush, “I saw what Wanda did to you. I’ve been there. If there’s anything I can do to—”

“You don’t need to worry about me, dear.” Agatha turns her hand under Sarah’s and bids the smallest thread of violet magic to course through the fingers of her other hand. “I’m very well protected.” She glances up again and meets Sarah’s eyes.

“Oh.” Sarah’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t rip her hand away. “If that’s…if that’s true, then why stay here with us? Don’t you want to leave?”

Agatha chuckles. “No, dear, I don’t want to leave.” Her head tilts to the side in a way not quite like her but quite like the other witch who left them all behind. “Maybe I want to stay and see how everything is rebuilt.”

Sarah stares at her curiously. Then her eyes widen, and she steps back, taking her hand from Agatha’s but without any malice. “Oh, forgive me, I completely forgot!” She holds her hand out again in the most oddly formal gesture, given the circumstances, and says, “I’m Sarah. Sarah Proctor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, given the circumstances.”

Something in Agatha sharpens at Sarah’s phrasing, but then she settles comfortably and takes Sarah’s hand in her own. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too, dear.” She hesitates, then says, “I think it would be best if you continued to call me Agnes. Just in case Wanda ever gets wind of—”

“Oh, of course, of course!” Sarah glances over her shoulder as though Wanda could show up at any moment. Then she sighs and turns back, gives Agatha a careful examination, and then says, “Say, would you like to come over for dinner? It would be nice to know you apart from all of that—” She waves one hand in the air, fingers waggling.

Agatha’s first instinct is to say no. She doesn’t need to spend time with other people, especially if she leaves, as she eventually will do. She’s never been particularly good at staying in one place for very long; even her apartment next door to the New York Sanctum was empty as often as it was occupied, despite Cian living at the sanctum for over a hundred years. If they hadn’t been able to keep her pinned down in one place, to get her to stay, then this suburban housewife and her family probably wouldn’t either.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy her time while she’s here.

So despite her instincts, Agatha forces herself to settle. One corner of her lips curves upwards, and she says, “Why, sure, hon. That would be swell!” She pats Sarah’s arm, perhaps more familiar than they should be, but after everything, there’s a commonality there. They’d lived through the Hex. That had to count for something. “Just let me get cleaned up, and I’ll be right over!”

Sarah eases herself into a comfortable smile. “Why don’t I wait here?” she asks. “Wanda had me here for the longest time; I don’t want you to get lost trying to find me.”

Without hesitation, Agatha holds her door open wide and gestures with one arm. “Wait inside a spell, dear. I wouldn’t want to cause anything else to happen to you, not so soon after…well.” Her smile fades the slightest bit. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

And – unsurprisingly – they don’t.

#bandit fic #the thrall of magic with agatha and wanda #kisses through the decades with wanda and agatha #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #mcu #wandavision #wagatha #wandagatha #harximoff #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness

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truecrimesunzu · 1 year

Text

The Murder of Gabriel Fernandez

This is an old case summary written February 2020

Please exercise caution when reading this, as there are accounts of very brutal abuse amounting to torture and a child victim. Click images at your own discretion.

---

On May 22, 2013 Pearl Fernandez called 911. Her 8-year-old son Gabriel fell and hit his head on a dresser, and now he wasn't breathing. Paramedics arrived at her Palmdale, California apartment to find Gabriel unconscious. They rushed him to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, where he was on life support for two days. It was very clear that this was no accidental fall. First responders noted that every single inch of his body had signs of abuse.

Gabriel suffered a fractured skull, broken ribs, a broken nose, and many missing teeth. He had BB pellets embedded in his body - "in his neck, face, lung, legs, buttocks, foot, chest and groin." There were cigarette burns on his neck, feet, and genitals and ligature marks on both ankles. Skin was missing from his neck. He had internal injuries, including a lacerated liver. Cat feces were forced in his mouth and down his throat. Before calling 911, Pearl and her boyfriend, Isuaro Aguirre cleaned up their apartment. They hid Gabriel’s bloody clothes and moved a picture to cover one of the biggest dents in their apartment’s walls. Pearl ordered her 11-year-old daughter to help them clean blood off the floor.

Scalp, Face, Neck, Ears and Shoulder Injuries Documented at Trial (diagam) | Autopsy Injury Diagram (drawing)

Due to over 60 complaints filed against Pearl Fernandez and Isauro Aguirre between 2003 and 2012, there were 8 investigations of them by the LA County Child Protective Services and the Department of Children and Family Services. The department deemed all reports unsubstantiated. Despite numerous contacts with the family and calls from Gabriel’s first grade teacher, DCFS determined all was well.

Two years before Gabriel was born, Pearl was investigated after she and Gabriel’s older brother were in a car accident where her son suffered a head injury because he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. In 2004, a relative filed a complaint with CPS claiming that Pearl was beating that son. This was deemed unfounded. In 2007 a complaint against Pearl claimed she didn’t feed one of her daughters and threatened to break her jaw if she cried. She was convicted of using a weapon in a reckless manner and sentenced to two weeks in a Texas jail. Pearl abandoned her youngest child, Destiny, and lost custody of a son older than Gabriel, named Arnold Jr.

Shortly after Gabriel’s birth in 2005, he went to live with his maternal grandmother, because Pearl “did not want Gabriel and had no love for” him. Suddenly, Pearl wanted custody back in October 2012. She claimed to social workers that she had concerns about how he was being treated but family members say she wanted Gabriel’s welfare benefits. Gabriel’s grandmother objected, telling deputies that Pearl neglected and abused her children. Still, Pearl received custody of Gabriel. His father, Arnold Contreras, was in and out of jail but thought Gabriel’s maternal grandparents would be watching over him.

Gabriel was either tardy or absent a lot. When he was in school, he would kick other students. On the rare occasion he went outside during recess, he stood alone on the playground and kicked a wall. During Red Ribbon Week, when teachers talk to children about staying drug-free, Gabriel mimicked snorting cocaine and knew it was a drug. Gabriel asked his teacher, Jennifer Garcia, if it was normal for moms to hit their kids. She said yes because some parents spank their children, but asked him again about it at recess. He then asked if it was normal for moms to hit kids with a belt buckle and make you bleed. During a parent-teacher meeting, Pearl said without prompting, “I don’t hit my kids.” Garcia told Pearl that Gabriel was smart and a good writer, but she didn’t think Pearl believed her. Gabriel would cry at the end of the day because he didn’t want to go home.

Jennifer Garcia began calling social workers in 2012. She reported that Gabriel’s face and hands had bruises from strikes with a belt buckle. He came to school with scratches, a split lip, and a swollen bruised face. Pearl admitted to hitting him with the belt. Neither caseworker Kevin Bom nor case manager Stefanie Rodriguez felt the bruising was grounds for a doctor’s visit or Gabriel’s removal from the home. They did ask Pearl and Isauro to take a drug test after the Red Ribbon Week incident, but the results were negative.

On November 26th, 2012 Gabriel showed up to class late. His classmates laughed and pointed when they saw him. His hair cut was awful and sloppy, and chunks of his scalp had scabbed over. Garcia told Gabriel to tell other kids to mind their own business when they asked him what had happened. Garcia called the principal to have him look at Gabriel’s head. He told her that they don’t investigate, they report. Garcia called Gabriel’s caseworker, Rodriguez, on two different numbers and left messages. A few days later, Gabriel came to school with a split lip from Pearl punching him in the mouth. Garcia called Rodriguez again, pressing her about what she was doing to help Gabriel. Due to confidentiality rules, Rodriguez could say nothing.

Towards the end of January, when Gabriel came to class, there was no more laughing. The other children were silent. His eyes were swollen, his face dotted with bruises. When Garcia first questioned Gabriel about his injuries, he lied to her and told her he fell. He finally admitted that Pearl shot him in the face with a BB gun. He lied because whenever a social worker would visit his punishments would increase.

On January 29, 2013 Rodriguez made a final visit to Fernandez’s home. Gabriel told her that the bruises on his face were because he had fallen while playing tag. Rodriguez recommended that Gabriel and Pearl take part in Voluntary Family Maintenance, which allows children to remain in the home while the family works to resolve their issues. The department was using it on parents who weren’t eligible instead of only low risk cases as intended.

On February 27th, 2013 therapist Carmen Le Norgant discussed with Pearl suicide notes Gabriel had written. One, addressed to his mother, said, “I love you so much that I will die.” Others stated he wanted to kill himself. He told Le Norgant that he was serious. Le Norgant informed social worker Patricia Clement and Palmdale’s LAC DCFS supervisor Greg Merritt. They did nothing. Le Norgant also called 911, but the officer who visited the home left without even talking to Gabriel. On March 26th, 2013 therapist intern Barbara Dixon filed a report that Gabriel claimed a relative forced him to perform oral sex on them. When social workers interviewed him about that allegation, Pearl was present, and Gabriel took back each of his stories.

According to the next worker assigned to Gabriel’s case, Patricia Clement claimed that new abuse allegations were already being dealt with and that she was going to close the case because there were no concerns at the moment. Despite their risk level being “very high,” Merritt manually changed the level to “moderate” and closed the case.

On April 26th, 2013 a security guard at the local welfare office, Arturo Martinez, noticed that Gabriel needed urgent help. Pearl was yelling at Gabriel, who had cigarette burns on his head and neck and marks on his wrists from being tied up. Martinez told Pearl to quiet down. Gabriel has a black eye, there were lumps on the back of his head, and his skin was almost yellow. Pearl rushed out of the office with her children, blocking Martinez’ view of Gabriel as she did. Martinez asked Maricela Corona, the clerk Pearl had spoken to, if she planned to report child abuse. Corona was only filling in that day and, though reluctant, talked to a supervisor who told her not to get involved. Martinez called his own supervisor who explained that was not in his job description. Corona then gave Martinez the family’s name and contact information, telling Martinez to “save this kid.” He called DCFS twice, but could not navigate the automated system. He called 911, but his situation was not an emergency. He called the non-emergency line to report. Martinez later learned that a deputy had visited the home and found nothing wrong.

Around this time, Gabriel came to class looking even worse than he ever had before. A red eye; his face, neck, and ear marked and bruised; his forehead skin was peeling. Garcia asked Gabriel if he wanted to take part in that day’s assignment or not, which was making a Mother’s Day card. He wanted to, and worked very hard on it. The card, shaped like a house, said “Open the door to see who loves you” with his picture glued inside. Garcia called Rodriguez and left yet another message. Rodriguez made no entry of this call.

Gabriel at School Just Before Mother's Day

One week before his death, Gabriel’s school, Summerwind Elementary, asked a sheriff’s deputy to investigate, but he received the wrong address. When he reached Pearl on the phone she told him that Gabriel had moved to Texas with his grandmother. Whether he tried or even had time to follow up on this claim is unknown. On May 22nd, 2013 paramedics rushed Gabriel to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles but doctors pronounced him braindead the same day. He was on life support until May 24th, 2013. Due to the amount of injuries to his body, the autopsy took two days.

In June 2018, after five hours of deliberation, jurors found Pearl Fernandez and Isauro Aguirre guilty of murder and torture. Fernandez pleaded guilty to avoid the death penalty and received a sentence of life in prison without parole. Aguirre received the death sentence. Judge Lomeli denied an automatic motion to reduce the jury’s recommendation of a death sentence for Aguirre to life in prison without the possibility of parole, citing the “repeated beating, binding, burning and starving” of Gabriel.

During their trials, it came to light that Isuaro Aguirre forced Gabriel to eat spoiled food and cat feces as well as his own vomit, and locked him in a cabinet with a sock in his mouth and handcuffs around his ankles to sleep. The family called this cabinet “the cubby.” Deputy District Attorney Jonathan Hatami claimed that Aguirre hated Gabriel because he thought he may be gay. Aguirre would call him gay, punish him if he played with dolls, and even made Gabriel wear girls’ clothing to school. Shortly before his death, Gabriel spent most of his time at home in “the cubby” with no access to food or water and no bathroom breaks. His older brother Ezequiel would try to sneak bananas through the padlocked door. If he didn’t beat Gabriel, Pearl and Isauro would threaten him, so he would whisper to Gabriel to fall quickly so he didn’t have to hit him as much. Isuaro and Pearl even pepper sprayed Gabriel the night before he died.

After the death of Gabriel Fernandez, LAC DCFS terminated four social workers for their failure to help him. The four also had criminal charges filed against them. In 2016, Stefanie Rodriguez and Patricia Clement, two former LA County social workers, as well as two supervisors, Kevin Bom and Gregory Merritt, were charged with one felony count each of child abuse and falsifying public records. They each faced up to ten years in prison if found guilty. Judge Mary Lou Villar stated that each defendant should have noticed the danger Gabriel was in and requested he be removed from the home, or at the very least ordered a medical examination. Villar also stated that the defendants should have documented Gabriel Fernandez’s injuries and that their actions were “incompatible with the proper regard for human life.”

Counselor Barbara Dixon testified that while working at Hathaway-Sycamores Child and Family Services, which handled Gabriel’s case, she did not report suspected abuse despite being legally required to report these suspicions. Dixon’s boss, Michael Bailey, allegedly told her not to report the abuse and later, supervisors told her not to cooperate with police regarding his death. DCFS never learned about these injuries while Gabriel was alive. Dixon claimed she did report an allegation of sexual abuse by someone outside the home. This investigation was ongoing when Gabriel died. Dixon and Hathaway-Sycamores also handled the very similar case in 2018 when 10-year-old Anthony Avalos died after his mother and her boyfriend abused him.

Since Gabriel’s death and the subsequent review, DCFS has hired more than 1,000 caseworkers, provided staff with smartphones, started new methods of training, and changed the standards for the Voluntary Family Maintenance program. Arturo Martinez, the security guard, asked to transfer to another office because he could not continue to work with the same people who had refused to help Gabriel. In that time, “at least 143 children in Los Angeles County have died from abuse or neglect after having some prior history with DCFS.”

In January 2020 California 2nd District Court of Appeals threw out the charges against the four former social workers. The appellate opinion noted that although they may have failed in their duties as social workers there was no probable cause for a criminal case. The District Attorney may appeal this decision.

On February 26th 2020, Netflix released a documentary called The Trials of Gabriel Fernandez. Director Brian Knappenberger documents the investigation into the months of abuse preceding his murder as well as the trial against his mother and her boyfriend. The documentary looks into the failures of the Los Angeles County DCFS system.

To this day, Jennifer Garcia reserves the #28 in her classroom. It will always be Gabriel's number.

#true crime #los angeles #gabriel fernandez #murder #child victim #dcfs

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alto-tenure · 11 months

Note

River, River, I actually believe you owe me a RWBY rec list anyway, so....

yeah ok I did say that. fair enough!

I've separated these fics into a few distinct eras, because I think the show's long-running status has impacted characterization over time -- not to say that older fics aren't still worth reading, but there might be some things that are different (e.g. pre-V4 there was a lot of speculation that Blake was an orphan, pre-V8 there were a lot of V7 ending fix-its and such). Tossing you in the deep end with ship names sorry you're going to have to figure it out yourself <3

BEACON-ERA (V1-V3) - publication dates from July 2013-October 2016 (when V4 started releasing)

clinging to a little bit of spine by rwbyfics | T | Monochrome | 10.9k

Blake was the black water lake where people went to drown, she was fifty stones in each pocket and breezeblocks strapped to broken ankles. Sinking wasn't an option for Weiss, and it never would be.

A heartfelt exploration of Weiss's and Blake's relationship as it stood back in the Beacon arc.

Loyalty by Texan_Red_Rose | T | Monochrome | 59.6k

When pressed, will Weiss use her head or her heart?

AU - the Huntsman system is more militaristic, among other things.

V4-V7 - publication dates from October 2016-February 2020 (when V7 ended)

Celebrity Matchmaker by Texan_Red_Rose | T | Blake/Weiss/Yang/Pyrrha | 29.4k

Weiss, this season's lead on a reality show, has made it to the finale, where she must choose to marry one of three finalists. Then, Remnant gets to approve or nix the union, and that SHOULD be the hardest part of this. But when the choice is between Blake, Pyrrha, and Yang, how can she decide?

A funny Bachelorette-esque AU that chooses to sidestep love drama in favor of the polycule.

The Fairest by periferal | T | Calichrome | 42.3k

Mirror mirror, on the wall, am I the fairest of them all? And if I'm not, who will it be, please oh mirror, show her me- Blake finds a girl standing alone in the woods.

A great use of the fairytale allusions.

V7 hiatus-V8 - publication dates from February 2020 to March 2021 (when V8 ended)

like punching in a dream (wait, i don't ever want to be here) by nirav | T | Bees Schnees | 6.6k

Her ribs ache from the explosion in the desert, the one that sent her careening off target and let her mark get away, and she knows that Weiss and Yang will surely be home soon enough, if only to burn the evidence of their relationship to the ground. There’s no telling which of them had set the charges that nearly blew her up. Yang was the engineer, but Weiss was the planner. Even odds.

And from here on there will be a lot of Bees Schnees on this list! Kicking this off with a bang. Technically a sequel to another fic, part of a larger Mr. and Mrs. Smith inspired AU.

Books & Behaviors by GreekLetter | T | Monochrome | 65.3k

After an unforgiving life event, Blake Belladonna decides to move away from the town she's lived in for years. Taking a job in Vale, where she knows no one. As she sets out to make a new life for herself, she knows there's two things she needs. A good coffee shop and the perfect bookstore. Maybe finding a pretty girl at the bookstore isn't so bad either.

A slow burn modern AU that I enjoyed a lot.

The Official Ace-Ops Communications Channel by HopeStoryteller | T | Gen with various relationships | 10.6k

In light of the Amity Communications Tower project, General Ironwood decides it may be a good idea to have a communications channel among everyone working on it. Nobody really wants to talk about what happened the last time the Ace Ops had a group chat. Whatever it was, it won't happen again. Probably. After all, it's not going to stay just the Ace Ops.

Minor pairings include: Fair Game, Frosen Steel, Renorarc, Bumbleby, Schneewood Forest, and Elm/Vine (name I can't remember rn).

every siren went silent by lescousinsdangereux | T | Bees Schnees | 11.9k

“You are so smooth, Weiss,” Yang breathes and — god help her — her lips brush just so against the shell of Weiss’s ear. “Good to know that you aren’t affected by Blake bending over to line up her shot right now. Or by the fact that I wanted to keep you in my room for several more rounds, that morning you left.” Oh no, Weiss thinks.

Everyone's sports in this AU are very well chosen, though I wouldn't have expected some of the choices made for the characters -- it still works.

tell me what you mean when you scream by nirav | T | Bees Schnees | 10.6k

“They were your best friends once,” Ruby says, momentarily gentle. “And they’re still some of my best friends. Just-- one day, okay? No bachelorette party, no rehearsal dinner, nothing like that. Just stand up with me, be cordial to them, and then you never have to see them again.” Yang whines, slumping back against Ruby as she’s shoved out the door, half for show and half because she has six months to prepare herself for being in the same room as Blake Belladonna and Weiss Schnee for the first time in ten years.

A fun chaotic rom-com esque AU.

here i sit like a beginner beginning again by nirav | T | Bees Schnees | 52.5k

She turns her back on Yang and busies herself with the backpacks, leaving Yang with half a cup of coffee and an unfamiliar feeling in her gut, half the long-standing apprehension of trying to find her family and half something new and scalding and tied exclusively to the way her hands want to reach for the guarded set to Blake’s jaw as much as they want to reach for the familiarity of Weiss’s hand in hers.

Bees Schnees The Mummy AU. Fascinating in its worldbuilding and its portrayal of the character relationships.

jigsaws and pieces we made to fit by FaultyParagon | T | Fair Game | 41k

Clover is not a father, nor does he ever intend to become one. Then, he meets Qrow Branwen, and suddenly he finds himself with eight surrogate children, all with a different name for Qrow- a different bond. What he doesn’t expect to find out is that Qrow never wanted to be a father, either, but now he’s in it too deep. So… Clover’s got eight kids too now. Oops. -aka Clover falls for an oddly loving, domestic, awkward duncle!Qrow and doesn't know how the whole step-dad gig is supposed to work when they're not officially dating or anything. V7 domestic FairGame.

Exploration into chosen families that makes me soft.

All Together (Together) by KatQuasar | T | JNPR Berries | 28.2k

After everything, JNPR move into a house together as a team and two established couples. But things are a bit more complicated when there's feelings under the surface that are suddenly dug up when frictions arise between them individually. What happens when everyone's in love with each other?

A sweet fic set in a softer universe. Minor Bees Schnees.

sing for me, my meadowlark by FaultyParagon | T | Gen | 10.3k

Roman Torchwick is confident that he will one day reign supreme. Being a father was never in those plans. He’s always been weak for ice cream, though; and if he can make his ward smile on top of that, then he shall do whatever it takes- even if it kills him. -aka Roman and Neo’s relationship from Neo's childhood till V3, explored through a series of vignettes.

A note on canon compliance -- this pre-dates Roman Holiday and thus is not compliant with that (and Neo's backstory as portrayed in those portraits, which is essentially a summary of the novel).

she's got a halogen heart by hittingonallsixes | T | Weiss-centric RWBYJNPR polycule | 8.9k

The summary was fighting me and didn't want to paste, but TL;DR: Weiss goes out for dinner with her partners, slice-of-life chaos.

The Gang Kidnaps A Child by Kablob & mylordshesacactus | T | Gen | 10k

Summer, Taiyang, Raven, and Qrow would normally never stay at a place as disgustingly Atlesian as this. Unfortunately, it's nearly midnight and they don't have time to find another hotel to—hey wait a second, is that a fucking kid?

AU where STRQ adopts Cinder. (You'll note that if you look in the tag around the time this was published there are a lot of AUs where something changed for Cinder, whether it be STRQ adopting her or Rhodes just being less of a dick.)

The Lucky Merman by TheCraftyNinjaCat | T | Fair Game | 39.7k

Beloved by everyone and leader of King Ironwood’s prestigious Ace-Ops, Clover seems to be the luckiest merman in the ocean. His only secret; his unwavering interest in the human world, the bane of the king’s existence. At least he's good at keeping it a secret, and his friend Robyn is always down to help him indulge. He has nothing to worry about.

Then he rescues human prince Qrow Branwen from a sinking ship, and things get much more complicated.

An enjoyable TLM AU.

Hereditary by Riggy_Minus | T | Gilded Rose | 173.6k

Ruby Rose, a girl who always wanted to be a huntress, finds herself elevated to Beacon Academy two years early. With no real friends save her sister, she does her best to adjust before the machinations of those plotting against the peace that the world of Remnant has known her whole life become too much to handle.

Incomplete series, but some enjoyable plots and dynamics between the characters. I especially enjoy the Lancaster slow burn dynamic.

Volume One: Winter & Spring by tkss | T | Gen (hints of Catmeleon, Freezerburn, Monochrome) | 120.6k

Crimson Silver was raised in Evernight, taken in by Salem after being found missing one of her silver eyes on the night her parents were killed. Weiss Schnee failed her trial against the Arma Gigas and instead applies to join the Atlesian military. Blake Belladonna goes undercover as the human Dusk Nightshade to infiltrate Haven Academy and spy for the White Fang. Yang Branwen is the bandit princess of her mother's tribe and possesses the power of the Spring Maiden. Team WYCD arrives at Haven Academy, each member with ulterior motives -- but doubts and hopes alike work to change the course of their future, and the future of Remnant. Or: the WYCD AU. Ruby is a servant of Salem. Weiss followed in her sister's footsteps. Blake never left the White Fang. Yang was raised by Raven as the Spring Maiden. None of Team RWBY ever made it to Beacon, yet Team RWBY still formed... albeit under different circumstances.

Fascinating that Weiss would, in most circumstances, be the worst leader for team RWBY -- but under these circumstances, she has to be.

Post-V8 - publication dates from March 2021 to present

A Marriage Masquerade by Victorious56 | G | Hummingbird | 13.2k

Miss Summer Rose is to marry her childhood sweetheart, to the delight of all who know them. There are only two problems. Summer is no longer a biddable child, and the Honourable Taiyang Xiao Long is not her sweetheart.

A fascinating period piece featuring a ship that isn't typically my cup of tea, but makes it work nonetheless.

it's cooler than a knife, at least by bandiits | T | Bees Schnees | 8.9k

It starts with Ruby, who buys Weiss a sword, and goes from there - to a shrine on the wall, to gouges in the floorboards of a shared apartment, and confused feelings in the name of Athena. Or, you can buy a girl a sword, but you can't make the fools she's in love with realize they're in love right back.

modern AU + swords my beloved!!

show me everything and tell me how by ProfessorSpork | T | Gen (minor Bumbleby) | 20.1k

The second thing Blake notices about Sun Wukong isn’t his kind smile, or his concerned expression. It’s the way he wears his shirt open, proudly displaying the top surgery scars that accentuate his pecs: an underline in bold, declaring all that he is. Without thought, without fear. Blake’s never had that kind of courage in her life. - [Or: Blake & Sun & gender] [Or: How Blake Learned to Stop Worrying And Love Herself] [Or: Maybe the real they/them was the friends we made along the way] [Or: come for nb!Blake, stay for yearning bees]

I sent this to a friend of mine back when it was published who has never seen an episode of RWBY in xyr life, and it still managed to resonate with xem. I don't think any note I have to add to this can endorse it any more than that.

across the stars by CorvidFeathers | T | Bumbleby | 16k

Blake, running from her past and harboring a dangerous secret, would go anywhere the solar winds are blowing, so long as it gets her away; so she barters passage on the first solarship heading for the Outer Moons. If the Crescent Rose’s first mate is the most beautiful woman she’s ever met, that’s coincidence. Mostly.

Woooo okay we've gotten to the BBB fics I bookmarked from the 2021 event!! This was a really sweet and interesting AU.

back to places you run from by gayxiaolong | T | Bumbleby (minor Schneekos + Rainbow Quartz) | 42.4k

2 years, 8 months, 12 days. That’s how long Blake spent planning the heist of her dreams. It’s also how long she spent in jail. Now that she’s out, she gets to work. She’ll need a team of the best criminals she can find, a way to convince Yang to be her partner-in-crime again, and… a way to get back to how they were. Infiltrating and robbing the most exclusive event of the year might be easier than getting Yang to fall in love with her again. *** or, an Ocean's 8 au

I really enjoy heist fics, and I love the amount of thought that was put into this.

beyond this town lies a life much sadder by nirav | T | Bumbleby (minor Schneekos) | 25.4k

Yang Xiao Long has lived and died and lived again more times than anyone can count. She's spent centuries living a life in the shadows with her family and has never wanted anything more than that, until she wakes up one day from a dream that leads her to Blake Belladonna-- a new immortal unknowingly on the run from people hunting for the secret to her immortality-- and, for the first time since before written language was invented, finds herself wanting something for herself.

An interesting exploration of immortality and what forever truly means.

Caesura by Probably_Momo | T | Bumbleby | 19.8k

When up-and-coming cellist Blake Belladonna fired her manager, Adam Taurus, she thought she was finally free. But Adam’s obsession ran deep. During a botched attempt on her life, violin prodigy Yang was also gravely wounded. In the aftermath, Blake’s music was gone, silent. Her public reputation in tatters, Blake fled.

Three years later, Blake’s found her music again, jamming with friends and composing indie game scores. Her world is carefully rebalanced— until Sun shows her a viral TikTok video. There is Yang and her shiny yellow prosthetic arm. There is Yang covering the main theme from Blake’s latest project. [What can she do but play along?]

Music AU! A subject close to my heart.

Craving the Sky by najio | T | Bees Schnees | 205.2k

If it weren't for her grandfather, Weiss would have lost her wings at birth. If it weren't for her mother, she would have lost them as a toddler, when she was still too young to remember them. If it weren't for her sister, she would have lost them as a child, the moment she was old enough to be afraid of them. Weiss arrives at Beacon still counting down the days to her eighteenth birthday, when she will finally get rid of them for good. It's the obvious next step. Until, that is, her team does what they do best, and makes everything a whole lot more complicated.

The word count probably seems intimidating, but I promise you it is worth it. (I was keeping up with this fic as it was updating, so...uh...it wasn't as intimidating when I started, whoops.)

I posted about this fic a while ago too.

#rwby #fic recs #ok here goes with the ship tags these are for my organization so #otp: no longer pieces on the board #otp: feeling like a brand new day #ot3: beauty/grace/will punch you in the face #jnpr berries #bees!#hummingbird #if you want to know WHY a ship is named what it is whiskers you can ask me bc i love talking about the cleverness of rwby ships #BUT otherwise you'll have to figure out which characters are in them for yourself

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