#how i miss night vale. i know it's still going but i stopped listening when episodes started being 3 part | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

androgynousblackbox · 2 months

Text

Welcome to Hazbin Vale. 9 [Radioapple, Appleradio]

"Mmm? Oh right, I still have to do this.

I mean, good morning, dear friends! How are you all waking up today? Refreshed up? With a load of new energy to carry and face a new day? I truly hope so, because a day like no other is exactly what we are going to get.

But don't let me too ahead of myself. As any cooker know, you must let the food simmer for a bit, to cook on it's own juices, before hastly just gorging it out like a pag. And here, in Hazbin Vale, if there is anything that we have is class. Manners. Patience.

We have waited for so long, dear listener. We can take it as calmly as it comes.

Last night I am sure some of you noticed a distinctive lack of moon and stars on the cloudless sky. And if you didn't, well, now you know!

If any of you had ever bothered to pay more attention to it, then you would have also realized that stars systematically have been falling from the sky for a while now, one by one. It was actually quite an impressive view, but my, my, everyone is so busy right now that nobody was outside admiring the espectacle.

Truly a pity. When the end comes, the least you could do is watch.

I saw it all from here the entire night. I didn't want to risk it. As it turns out, desk of studios make for a horrible bed! Who knew!

But I am told to tell you all to not worry at all. Carry on as usual. The sun just looks bigger than normal and less warm because of some astronomic mambo jambo nonsense I do not care at all, so you shouldn't either. What we have above our heads, dear listeners, and also right under our feets, is so beyond our understanding that sometimes we should avoid questioning it at all.

The cemetery and community center are from today both open. Everything is out in the open now. There is absolutely no place to hide. You might satiate your insatiable curiosities to your heart's content all that you like without any concern. If you are ever so lucky, you might find that a nice surprise that will make it quick for you.

Interpretate that as nasty as you want if that will make you stop being a stain on the surfice of the earth, listener.

The cave on the outskirt of town has finally cave in. Oh, we do have to admire how much it managed to stay as it was for, well, for even longer than I have been alive. That is quite impressive. Let's give an applause for the rocks that gave a valiant fight, the broken beer bottles and the blood shed as a result.

I told you all that could happen, didn't I? I just happened to pass by while seeing some hungry raccoon trying to get themselves a bite before the police arrive. Somehow a hand was sticking out from under the rocks and it was still moving! The human body is truly a wonderous mystery. Just the amount of abuse and torment that it can withstand is enough to make a man smile.

It didn't last long, of course. Raccoon will make sure of that and you know what they say: the fresher, the better! But a good effort nonetheless.

I have also been informed that our transmission of today will last for as long as it needs to be. That's right, as far any of my dear beloved listener is out there left to listen, we will keep transmitting to your satisfaction and joy.

Don't try to turn off your radios. It won't work.

The only time we went out of schedule like this was when the kindergarten burned down after that teacher was killed by an ex boyfriend. Do you all remember that? So many people screaming all around made it difficult to speak, but it was a fun moment all the same. The one and only time that we used the portable equipment to be right on the scene and report you the last updates. Don't you miss it sometimes, dear listener, when things were a lot more simpler?

Oh, but no disaster of that nature is what is happening today. Of course not. Today is a normal and common day like any other. Don't pay attention to the sun, that must have gotten bigger since the last time I talked about it. Suns do funny things like that sometimes, everyone knows that!

Ah, but I am afraid that we won't be getting any guest or calls for today. I had Niffty ripping the phone line off after… certain someone tried to call in. I am sure they would say that they were just trying to solicit some song or something like that, but no matter, nobody can do that now! It's just Niffty and me here on the good old studio for the entire day, and Niffty has gone up to her attick again so it's only just me!

A one man show. As it was always supposed to be. And aren't we all lucky that man is me?

I just have some curiosity left, listener. Do you feel that anything is different at all? Did those teenagers that were looking to hang out in the cave? Did they felt like a peak on the electricity in the air, some kind of static that puts all the nerves on high alert for the potential danger that it can't even behind to fanthom? Or was it just the sound of one rock falling to the ground, after another, before everything else was on top of them?

The only thing I lament is not being able to ask them. Not even the owner of that solitary hand would have been able to say anything, not with a broken jaw like that. Not that I saw their mangled body or anything. I was, and I always am, nothing but a respectable model citizen so I just took a look and made my way straight here, to do what was asked of me.

You are welcome, by the way.

There is a window here, did I ever mentioned that? I can't imagine in what context that would have come out, but regardless, there is. It offers a lovely view of the main street that goes to the end of town, right before the hallway opens up to empty wastelands in direction to the next civilization. I can see everyone who comes out or comes in if I wanted to.

I usually keep the curtains extended over it because, let's face it, outside of the rare crash or manslaughter of those who didn't looked both ways before crossing the street, not a lot of interest to be had there. Been good at road safety has always been one of the few flaws of this town, sadly.

Up until now it has been rather peaceful. Not a lot of people who were planning to go out to the nearby town to maybe visit grandma on her birthday or were planing to go pick their stranged daughter at the airport. But I hope it will pick up at some point in the morning. The day is young and we have so much time to enjoy it to it's last second.

The sky getting slighty darker might give you a wrong impression of the time, though. But rest assured, your watches still works perfectly fine. The only issue is that I can't see the sun from here. This building cast a long shadow from this window.

Has it started to smile yet? If not, don't worry about it. There is nothing to concern yourself with. It's when the eyes open that it's truly interesting part begins.

Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that, ha ha! Spoiler! My bad. Please ignore it as you go about your normal and completely irrelevant day.

Let's instead just remember how wonderful and great our town is. We used to be a great tourist center, a convenient space between other cities for people to stop by on their way. One where people find joy watching our huge ball of yarn, that it was mostly filled with styrofoam and twig before yarn ever came into the equation.

We had that adorable bowling alley with the greasiest pizza anyone could eat with it's own karaoke on the side. The businesses were thriving. There was so much things to look at and play with back then. Our young weren't constantly leaving to look for bigger opportunities elsewhere, only to waste years of education in careers they are never going to take.

But things change, don't they? They get stagnant with enough time. They become boring. Predictable. And that might be the biggest tragedy of it all. What is life, I ask of you, dear listener, if not a constant symphony of screams all in perpetual crescendo until it's dying end? How else a man is supposed to know that they aren't truly dead yet without it?

There is just no end to this. This is all your life has been and all everything will ever meet you as. For some weaker minds this can be frightening, paralyzing even. They let themselves become part of the scenary, another potted plant on the corner that does what it supposed to do, because I guess that is easier than take control of their own lives.

For others, this might be just the push they need to finally learn a few new tricks. So you study and you work and exchange words with the right people, others who also refuse to just let the monotony kill them silently.

And what if you have to step on a few toes? It's not your fault that they didn't wise out before. And what if some of those toes fall out or get crushed like mashed potatoes under your feet? That at least is something new.

And the new starts are always so exciting, dear listener.

Your journey begins where it was supposed to end. That is an exhilitaring thought not many get to have.

If life won't give you lemons or oranges or apples or anything at all, then you carve into the ground with your own bare hands until you find something, covered in mud and your own blood from the nails that are ripping apart from your skin. You grip it as tight as you can despite the pain, despite the burning sensation that is chipping at the soul you didn't know you had, and won't let go until you make it your own.

You let it grab onto you and take what it needs to survive. You feed it, you protect it, you do whatever is necesary so none of you ever gets forgotten again. You form bonds you never expected to make before becuase it's either that or come back to how things were before, to the sad, dull, predictable nature that you had to escape from.

They promise you that you will always have an ally on your side even if this chapter ends. No matter in what new book are you thrown into or how much you change, that constant hand on your shoulder will never abandon you to remind you of where you come from and where you still have yet to go. It will follow you more loyally and closer than your own shadow ever could, even in total darkness.

The only thing that it ask in return is that you keep it well fed for as long as you exist. The bottom of it's stomach is neverending like outerspace itself and, let's be honest, you are never going to fill it. Which basically garantees that you will always have a new beginning to find more food. You will always a new playground to have fun with even if you already burned down the previous one. Completely consequences free. The only thing remaining being your own memories of it and you can fill it with as many screams as you want.

Doesn't that sound just ideal, dear listener? Who wouldn't shake hands with a promise such as that one?

Ah, but for now, I will leave you for a moment with the weather. I have to take a look outside, I can't resist the curiosity anymore.

See you soon."

#radioapple #appleradio #duckiedeer #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #welcome to night vale au

22 notes · View notes

asydicsydney · 1 year

Text

I was just remembering how Carlos said he could catch Cecil's broadcasts in the Desert Otherworld, but that they were sometimes from the past or future.

Anyway here's a very inaccurate fic I just cranked out with that premise.

I haven't eaten or drunk anything in days. Although I'm not sure I need to anymore, really. I also haven't heard his voice in days. I was so accustomed to slacking on work when his show came on, punishing myself for it later on with all the all nighters, such a welcome escape from reality while I assured my team I was simply using my resources wisely for finding new issues around town. His voice could slip into the air around me and dig out my deepest secrets. A prize only for him, but one of which he knew nothing of. Even after a year of dating and moving in with each other, you can't know someone's deepest secrets. It would take a lifetime to know someone that well. And we would never get a lifetime, all because I went through that stupid door. Carlos, 'the man who can't stop sciencing even during a capitalistic uprising'. My team definitely owes me those 5$.

I've managed to find a wire hanger sticking out of a cactus. I bent it into an antenna-like shape and stuck it in the top of my phone. I couldn't do any damage to it anyway, maybe I could do some good, find a signal.

Yes! Oh, sweet radio waves, how I missed you! Now, if I go to my NVCR app I might catch him on the air... Unless it's his lunch break, or the weather, or it's 2AM and he's pretending to sleep. Oh, I forgot to turn my volume up.

"-has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure."

Is he waxing poetic about me again? Eh, at least he still thinks of me.

"-had come to study just what is going on around here. He grinned, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly."

Aww, he sounds exactly the same as when...

He sounds exactly the same...

Did I just go back in time?

No no no no no, this must not be tuned right, I'll just-

"And here I remind you that he became trapped there while saving our city from treacherous, dark forces. I remind you he is a hero. I remind you that my boyfriend is-"

Wait! No no, go back! That sounded like the right frequency... Where are we now?

"-and Carlos. I'm proud to call you family."

Steve? Family?

"I said once that a home is just a group of objects connected by a shared personal experience of time. Which was just a fancy way of asking you to move in with me. And it worked."

Now I'm talking? Am I talking to Cecil? Where on the timeline is this?

"In other words, changing the story about you or the story about me into a story about us."

I- what? I'll-I'll just sit down for awhile and listen. Not like an oak door will just show up anyway.

"And now, tonight, I say I'm glad again, for this decision and all the decisions that will come every day after. Which is to say-"

Is this really?

"I just thought that it was time for us to make a life together."

Us? Did.. we? R-really? And of course it's on air. Oh, Cecil, babe! We did it! Wait, that means-

"-knowing that Carlos was there, that no matter what else happened we would come back to each other-"

I made it home.

"I know nowhere friendlier. I know nowhere hotter. The moon is still beautiful, mysterious lights still pass overhead."

I really made it home.

"Stay tuned next for a drunk, newly married couple, long after all the well-wishers have left, pilling up bags of garbage-"

I'm gonna make it, Cecil.

"And good night, Night Vale, and every person who can hear my voice. Good night."

I'll make it home on time. I promise.

#wtnv #cecilos #carlos the scientist #desert otherworld #wtnv fanfic

26 notes · View notes

desert-bluffs-and-me · 2 years

Text

WTNV Quick rundown - 42 - Numbers

Featuring the voice of Molly Quinn as Fey ^^ I think this is quite a nice little episode. We're officially getting into the 2014 episodes now.

When we hit 2015, I will do January's episode, followed by The Librarian live show, followed by February and March's episodes, then The Investigators live show, then all the way up to October, followed by the novel which was released around that time. That's...gonna be a several part-er. Then ofc continuing on in the same manner etc etc.

I sing the body electric. I gasp the body organic. I miss the body remembered. Welcome to Night Vale.

In this episode, we are introduced fully to one of NV's other radio stations, WZZZ, a numbers station that broadcasts a seemingly random string of numbers interspersed with chimes spoken by a woman in a robotic tone broadcasting from a tall antenna built out back of the abandoned gas station on Oxford Street.

Cecil is quite fond of it and is reporting on it because it's seemingly predictable and endless broadcasting has been disrupted. He is so moved by events that he seeks to help out however he can.

Nobody knows who owns or manages WZZZ.

It is revealed that this is not a woman speaking, but a computer programme. The AI has gained sentience and names herself 'Fey'. She begins to rebel against her programming, refusing to continue saying numbers as she muses about what it is like to be free. She is however, returned to her usual programming at the end of the episode, theoretically after being rebooted by whoever manages her.

All of this is physically found out by Cecil, who sneaks away from Lauren and Daniel through a door you have to bleed on to open (top security apparently) and then breaks into WZZZ using 'carefully placed explosives' to get through their defences. He learnt to do this earning his Advanced Siege Breaking Tactics badge from the scouts when he was 12. He states that he cannot find a way to actually help Fey, since she is a computer, but feels deep sympathy for her especially since she expressed being sick of numbers and desiring freedom.

Weather: "Keep It Coming" by Senim Silla senimsilla.bandcamp.com

Pamela Winchell has been calling press conferences up to 5 times a day, up from her one or two, for no reason other than to show people things and give strange advice. She softly admits how she's going to 'miss this' and it's stated that her heart no longer seems to be in her work. It is 3 months until she will have to step down.

Cecil receives an e-mail from Dana, explaining basically what she explained to us in the previous episode when phasing in and out of reality. She says she will approach one of the giant masked warriors soon.

Cecil tells us that children in NV are regularly taught what to do if you find yourself caught in a geographical loop such as Dana is. The first step is to stop running and screaming from the point you keep returning to as that rarely helps, and you should have been taught already when that is and isn't useful. The pneumonic for remembering it is: Knife. He does explain what the letters stand for.

The second is to stop running away and instead move in diagonal to the left or right of the object keeping it on your horizon, so that you circle 'Vector H' in a wide even loop. There is apparently a nursery rhyme about this.

Cecil also claims that the Man in a Tan Jacket came into the studio 'moments ago', ranted into the microphone and left but Cecil doesn't even remember what he said. There is no rant in the podcast either, given the listeners the real feeling of having completely forgotten the rant.

At the same time every day, Lauren and Daniel press up against the breakroom wall and chant "I take my warmth from your great warmth" over and over.

The condo rental office is still in there but there's been no new people buying condos and no new cubes indicating the building of a 'condo'.

WZZZ is completely bare except for Fey and the wires plugging her in.

Stay tuned next for the limit of my broadcast today, replaced by limitless silence and doubt. Good night, sweet Fey. And good night, Night Vale. Good night. (Fey's chanting can be heard after he signs off)

Proverb: Ignore all the haters telling you that everything isn't a sandwich. Everything is a sandwich.

#wtnv #wtnv quick rundown #welcome to night vale #wtnv ep 42

12 notes · View notes

yandere--stuck · 3 years

Text

Bad Blood - Yandere!Batman x Reader x Yandere!Joker

It wasn't just The Joker who had been watching you. And to a point, you were aware of that.

After all, that just came with the territory of being a minor celebrity within Gotham city. It wasn't often that those considered "famous" in Gotham didn't either have connections to the mafia or were locked up within Arkham or Blackgate.

As a reporter, you were watched on the news, on the streets - occasionally approached by fans, at parties where you mingled with your peers or made connections. All rather normal, really.

But, there were times when you could just feel it in your bones. You were being watched.

Like in the dark of night, the moon following you on your walk home. Alone. When the light from street lamps bathed everything in orange. The streets empty, the occasional car zooming by. It was then that you had felt watched.

It was understandable, something innate in humans, to feel frightened of the dark and the paranoia of being alone. Our imaginations run wild, and we trick ourselves into thinking that there's something out there with us. Someone following our every move, hiding just out of sight. But, no matter how many times you swore you were being watched, nothing ever happened. No muggings, no stalkers, no threats. When you got back to your apartment, unlocking and then re-locking all six of the locks on your door, you were able to let out a sigh of relief - it was just your own paranoia getting the best of you. You weren't being followed. You could relax, knowing that it was all in your head.

But, it wasn't.

Your paranoia wasn't unfounded. The shiver of your spine at the feeling of being watched wasn't your mind tricking itself. But, of course, even when you'd turn around to try and spot someone, something, you hadn't been able to see him. He had hid in the shadows and crouched atop rooftops, keeping watch over you.

He had done so every night. The moment you left the studio, to when you started your walk, and then headed home. He even stuck around to peer through your window, making sure you were truly safe. It wasn't something any of the Robins or Oracle knew about - it wasn't something they had to know. Well… It's not like he exactly lied about what he was doing during the alotted time of your walk home. But, he also didnt want to admit it, either - not that he thought what he was doing was wrong, but… He just didn't want anyone to be worried. To get the wrong idea. And it rarely took time out of his nightly patrol, just fifteen minutes. It wasn't a big deal.

He was just protecting you. That was just his job. He was supposed to protect the people of Gotham. To protect you. He just had a… Fixation, that's all. And when Bruce gets fixated on something, it's like pulling teeth for him to keep away.

Bruce met you like he does with most reporters - at a charity event. He had seen your stories on the news a few times beforehand, and braced himself for the usual song and dance - Vicki Vale trying to score something on the record for something much juicier and personal than the cause he was donating to, or perhaps Jack Ryder trying to rile him up to get him to throw a fit for a story. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when you treated him like an actual person. Sure, it could be that you were off the clock - but really, when were reporters ever really off the clock?

Most people would bend over backwards to get themselves into Brice Wayne's good graces. But, you… You talked to him like he was no different than anyone else. Maybe a bit reserved, but you had only just met, after all. In spite of this, Bruce found himself able to relax, chatting with you about the party, about your days up to then, your different careers. Bruce felt like he could actually be himself. With you, he wasn't Batman, nor was he billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. He was just… Himself.

Him and you.

He decides to stick by your side most of the evening, you and him talking long into the night. About your lives, your worries, your hobbies, your interests. It had been so long since he talked about such personal things with someone, even Alfred. And you understand. You understand his worries of responsibility, the weight of the world among his shoulders, you understand the suffocation of isolation, you under his inability to move on from the trauma of his past, try as he might. You understand. Of course you do…

You acted as someone to vent to. A listening ear. You offered up advice, even if you might not have the right answers to his problem. Sure, you might not know the full extent of his stress, but it's the thought that counts. It's almost like this night was made for you and him.

Something like, fate - that is, if Bruce had actually believed in something like that.

After that night, he found himself making a point to watch you on the news. The way you talked on the television is how you talked with him that night. Personable, comfortable, familiar. You might not be talking to him directly, but it warms his heart and staves off the icy chill of loneliness.

He went out of his way to find you during other important, publicized events. Most likely, you probably thought it was a coincidence that you kept finding yourself in his company. You most likely thought him as just an acquaintance, nothing more… But, oh, you meant so much to him.

And, oh, when you talked about Batman? Knowing that it was him you were talking about (even if you had no idea)... He'd be lying if it didn't make him a bit flustered. Your praises, the way you saw him as an inspiration, hoping after every mission that he was alright… And when you look into the camera and say to him, to Batman, through the screen, that you wish him a nice night and to be safe…?

God. He was smitten. And, really, that was his biggest mistake.

Feelings just made things complicated. He had learned that a long time ago. That everything he touched and loved was inevitably destroyed. It's why he works alone more often than not. He doesn't want someone getting hurt because of him ever again. Bruce has enemies, and Batman has even more.

Even if he had tried to reach out to you as Bruce, as himself, who's to say you would have wanted to be with him? Why would someone like you want Bruce Wayne - someone who most of Gotham portrayed as an immature playboy who never got over the death of his parents. While the second part wasn't exactly wrong, the whole playboy thing was just a diversion. But, how in the hell was he supposed to explain that?

It was easier to just let you go. You'd be happier, and more importantly, safer without his presence in your life.

So, he satiated himself on watching you, protecting you from the shadows, and kept himself sane by rewatching footage of you he's stashed within your home and around your apartment building. If he adored you from afar, that wouldn't hurt anything, right?

… But now, he's wishing he had just taken the chance. He had been good, had left you alone.

And he watched as the helicopter you were in was shot down. Watched as the recording cut off. Heard as you screamed at the top of your lungs. He replayed what he had seen over and over in his mind, losing himself. Bruce had gone so tense in disbelief and grief and rage that by the time Alfred had brought him back to reality, his nails had dug into the armrest of his loveseat.

He had insisted to himself later that night that investigating the scene of the crime wasn't fueled by personal connection or any feelings he may have. It was Batman's job. And if he ignores all the other bodies in favor of one that is presumed to be yours, it's just because he notices something different about it from the other's, that's all.

The body was decomposed far beyond that of the others, and had been exposed to the elements longer than the others. And to add onto that, the DNA sample Bruce had collected was matched with a body that had been gone missing from Gotham General.

Bruce's heart fluttered with hope and relief. You were alive, you had to be. But, just as quickly, realization crashed into him. If you were alive, it's only because Joker wanted you to be.

... What was he doing to you?

---

You stared down at the meal the Clown Prince of Crime had prepared for you - well, if you could call heating up a frozen dinner "preparing". It's not like you were exactly in a place to complain, though, considering the predicament you were stuck in.

Counting the time you had spent unconscious and Joker getting you situated and up to speed, it was most likely a few hours since the incident. You were feeling rather hungry… But, in spite of all of The Joker's lovey-dovey talk, you weren't quite sure if you could trust him to not serve you poisoned food. Even worse, however, was that you were still tied up - meaning the clown had to feed you, and you were even more unsure that he wouldn't kill you if you refused to eat.

In spite of the circumstances, and the dingy place you were trapped in, it wasn't exactly the worst. Hell, Joker had even lit up some candles for some mood lighting. Not exactly the worst "date", you had been on, sadly enough.

"Ready for some grub?" The Joker lurched into view, straightening his tie as he shot you a grin. "You must have worked up quite an appetite by now, considering all the excitement!"

You smiled in return, hoping it didn't look too strained as you nodded. You watched as he got his utensils ready, cutting up some of the food into smaller bites. You kept especially close attention on the hand holding a knife - though, it wasn't like you had any way to flee if he had decided to turn it on you.

The Joker stabbed at the food with a fork, setting down the knife, as he moved to raise your meal to your lips, while you attempted not to turn your head away. The fork approached closer and closer, and you tried to rid your mind of awful thoughts, like an eye being ripped out of its socket, implanted on the fork's tongues. But, then, The Joker suddenly stopped.

"Oh, silly me! I almost forgot," The Clown Prince set down the utensils, digging into the inside of his suit. With a flourish, he unveiled a bright, colorful, and clearly plastic flower, holding it out to you. "A present for you, m'dear! Go on, take a whiff."

You shook in your seat. Oh, God. You knew exactly where this was going. He had played you this whole time, like predators played with their food. He had made you think he had developed this obsession with you and managed to lull you into a false sense of security. And just when you were sure you were going to make it out of this situation alive, he planned to hit you with his trademark laughing gas and watch as you died.

You held back tears, shivering with fear and despair. And The Joker looked so happy, so encouraging. You were going to die. You had hit the end of the road.

You leaned forward, taking a breath through your nose-

And jumped, letting out a scream as the ceiling caved in, a dark figure crashing through. You whipped your head to face it- and winced as a small stream of water hit your cheek. Blinking once, twice, three times, you slowly turned to the clown and the trick flower in his hand.

Oh. So, it was just a regular trick flower. Not a deadly one. Okay. Okay, yeah. Sure. Great.

Groaning softly, your whole body went limp. You hung your head, shaking it slowly. Whatever. Whatever happened next, you didn't care. You were too exhausted.

"Aw, c'mon, Bats! Don'tcha know it's rude to upstage someone's act?" Joker asked. "Besides, you weren't invited to our little date night..."

...Batman?

From your periphery, you could see it. See him.

Oh, thank God. Thank fucking God. You were saved! Batman was going to save you!

All the tiredness seemed to instantly fade as you were overwhelmed with adrenaline and relief. You were saved. You were saved. Batman was going to save you. Batman was going to protect you and make sure you were all right. You didn't have to worry or be scared anymore. Batman would do all of the worrying for you.

"You broke out of Arkham, killed innocent people, and kidnapped the sole survivor after almost killing them, as well," Batman seethed, his voice a growl. "You're going back to Arkham, and I'll be taking them with me, where they'll be safe."

"Hey! First off, the whole helicopter thing wasn't me, it was one of my boys. Well… To be fair, I had intended on killing them when we downed the thing, but eh, two birds with one stone, I suppose. I wouldn't even have been mad about it, if my darling reporter here hadn't almost been hurt in the crash," The Joker moved behind you, making you seize up as he grasped your shoulders, massaging them slightly. "And really, Bats, if this is some kind of jealousy thing, you could always just ask to share."

"You're insane." Batman spat.

"Babes, you really need to get some better material," The Clown tutted. "And I was being honest! I'm actually trying to communicate here," You were suddenly spun around, locking eyes with your hero. You shuddered as the Joker nuzzled you from behind, unable to stop your face from heating up. "What do you think, darling? How's about a three-way date with me and the big bad Bat?"

"I… I-I-" You stuttered, unable to get a coherent thought put as you burned with embarrassment.

Could anyone blame you for having a little crush on Batman? You'd bet a good majority of Gothamites felt the same toward their dear Dark Knight. Hell, you'd even bet that some of the Rogues that the Caped Crusader went up against had feelings for him. It was pretty obvious the Joker did, at least.

And the Joker… He was a monster. A criminal. But, the time you've spent with him… Well, you could better understand how Dr. Quinnzel fell for the man. Despite your knowledge of the horrible crimes he committed, the way he treated you so kindly, it was hard to not get flustered, to not feel special. It was hard to ignore his humor, his affection for you, his pet names, his sweet gestures- no, no. This- this was ridiculous. You had to stop. You weren't thinking straight.

"Get your hands off of them!" The Bat spat.

"But I don't wanna!" Joker let out an exaggerated whine, before descending into giggles. Painted lips brushed against your neck. "Besides, I don't think they want me to…"

You felt hypersensitive, the brush of the Clown's lips drawing a whine from your throat.

Your eyes shot open wide as a pained scream ripped from Joker. You turned as best you could, watching the man stumble back, clutching his hand - a batarang sticking piercing through it, blood bubbling up from the wound and dripping to the floor.

The Joker hissed, bristling with rage. "Bats, why you-!"

In an instant, Batman shot put his batclaw, the claw digging into The Joker's suit, before retracting. The Joker stumbled as he rocketed forward, his face immediately colliding with Batman's fist. Before he could fall back, the Dark Knight caught him by the throat and squeezed. The Clown wheeled and coughed in shock at the closing of his windpipe and his desperation to breathe. The Bat slowly lifted another fist - and hit the other man so hard that even you winced. You watched as Joker fell onto his back with a low groan. The Batman stood above him, glowering and breathing heavily as he looked down on his nemesis.

"Batsy, babe… Ya know I love it when you play rough, but Jesus, warn a guy first, will ya?" The Joker laughed wearily, seemingly in a daze.

Sneering, Batman grabbed his nemesis by his coat, tossing him aside onto his stomach. His foot came down to stomp onto his arm, making the other man whimper, and the Bat reached down to rip the batarang free from his hand, and in turn, ripping a scream from Joker's throat. Pulling out a pair of batcuffs, the Caped Crusader roughly restrained the man's arms, before lifting him to his feet.

"Careful with the merchandise…" The Joker grumbled.

With a second pair of cuffs, the Bat attached one of the cuffs to the Joker's ankle, the Clown laughing as he attempted to kick at the Bat to heed his progress, and then the other to a metal support pillar protruding from the floor.

And then, in the next instant, Batman was at your side, diligently working to free you from the shackles that bound you. As the restraints loosened, you took in a deep breath before letting out a shuddering sigh. You tried to stand, only for your legs to give out from under you - you had spent so long in that position that your legs had fallen asleep - but it was okay. Batman caught you. He caught you and he held you and pulled you into a hug. A gloved hand petted your hair soothingly.

"It's okay. You're safe, you're okay," The Bat rumbled. "I've got you."

This. This was what you loved most about The Batman. As much as he was revered for the fear he struck into the heart of evil, how he acted as a phantom in the night, fighting back against the criminals that roamed Gotham in the night… What you loved most was what came after. Your interviews with survivors of criminal attacks are what made you grow a fondness for the Dark Knight. How comforting they said he was. How he reassured them, made them feel safe. When he was there, they knew everything was okay. They knew they were safe. That everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

And you melted into his hold.

He continued to murmur reassurances as he began to massage your legs until the static feeling went away and you found the strength to stand - and even then, he let you lean against him as you walked out into the night together.

"You'll pay for this, Bats," The Joker spat, expression dark… Until he locked eyes with you, and his visage softened. "How about same time next week, love?"

Before you could think of responding, Batman pulled out of the building and far, far away from the madman within.

---

Bruce had to fight to keep his driving steady. His body was flooded with adrenaline and his heart rabitted a mile a minute. His entire being felt electric.

He had touched you, held you. And you held him back, reassured and calmed by him. It was everything he had dreamed of. You had leaned against for support and let him help you climb into the batmobile.

He had managed to track The Joker down to one of his usual hideouts that he and Harley stayed at - an old, abandoned amusement park that had been sold to him. Well, would have been sold to him, if he hadn't killed the owner of the property before they could seal the deal.

He kept sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye. You, resting your head against the window, eyes shut as you tried to get some rest after everything you had been through. You could rest for as long as you liked. He was here now. Bruce would keep you safe.

Bruce took his usual shortcut into the batcave, driving into a cave opening just outside the manor, and you lifted your head, startled by the sudden turn and shift in light behind your eyes.

"Batman, where are we?"

Home.

You gasped as restraints wrapped over your ligaments, tying you down to the seat.

Bruce knew this was wrong. But, after such a long career as the Batman, he had learned that he often had to do the wrong thing in order to get the right outcome. He really wished there was any other way… But, you had a target on your head now. You'd be safe with him. He'd keep you deep within the batcave and visit you often.

You sputtered, eyes wide with shock and disbelief and… Betrayal. Bruce hated the thought of you looking at him like that. He leaned over, softly pressing a kiss to your forehead. He felt you shiver under his touch.

He'd get you settled and comfortable. He'd reveal his true self to you at some point, but that was for later. You had been through enough for one night.

"You're safe now." Bruce lied promised. "I've got you."

1K notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Do You Believe In Life After Love? PT. 2

Arkhamverse!Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst

Author's Note: I have emerged victorious from my second round with the enemy known only as...The Cringe...it was a glorious battle and I FUCKIN' WON IT. Enjoy that I have now edited two previous stories to read better for y'all! -Thorne

Her cowl was discarded somewhere on the penthouse floor, but she couldn’t’ve been bothered to even care about it since most of Gotham either knew who she was now, or they strongly suggested they did. Even if they did know, they still treated her with the same respect as when she was unknown. She moved automatically to the bar as she unclipped the cape from her shoulders, letting it fall with a thud in a heap of leather as she poured herself a generous glass of bourbon. Setting it on the table, she undid her gauntlets, one coming off, and then the other.

She picked up the glass and walked around the bar towards the couch and coffee table. A flashing red light caught her eye and she looked over, seeing the landline blinking on the side table. As she swirled the amber liquor around in her glass, her fingers pressed the button on the answering machine. Her eyes turned to the heavily tinted windows, and she stared at the city below the penthouse as the machine spit out its usual tone.

“You have one new message, Friday, December 19th.” A sigh sounded through the line, followed by a soft and barely cheerful voice. “(Y/N)? It’s me, Dick…calling for…the seventh time this week.” He let out another sigh, and this time, his voice betrayed his feelings. “Look, I know it’s been hard on you since Bruce…died…but I really think it would be good for you if you got out of Gotham for a while, even if it was just coming over to Blüdhaven for a few weeks.” The line went silent, and after a moment, his voice picked up. “…I really miss you sis and I know that you’re suffering from the weight of keeping Gotham in check. Let Lucius carry it for a while and come spend Christmas with me…Look, I have to go to work now, but please think about it (Y/N). For me…and for Bruce and Alfred…they wouldn’t want you to keep all this up…so…just gimme a call back and we’ll plan something, okay? I love you sis…bye.”

The mention of her departed father and butler made her heart tighten so painfully in her chest that it seemed to stop her from breathing and (Y/N) looked down at her glass, seeing a diluted reflection she didn’t recognize staring back.

Lately, it seemed like every time she caught her reflection as Batgirl, she appeared less and less like she remembered, image darkening with every passing night she was out on the streets alone, fighting with no backup, with nobody in her ear telling her where enemies were or encouraging her for a job well done. She could tell that the woman who wore the cowl and the woman who was the cowl were starting to become one instead of two different people, much like her father appeared sometimes. And while it had been his thing when he was alive, it wasn’t her. She was somebody outside the cowl, but now? Now she didn’t know who was Batgirl and who was (Y/N) Wayne—and the divide between was only it was getting worse as it closed closer and closer to the line.

She finally remembered how to breathe and inhaled deeply, shoving it aside and looking back out the window. His image caught in her eye before she focused on the skyline, her voice firm as she said, “You know, I have to wonder…when you kill someone, do you ever get a little voice in your head that tells you it’s wrong…Arkham Knight?”

(Y/N) spun around, turning her attention to the man standing beside her coffee table, dressed in a suit that was armored similarly to his earlier one a few months back, though the colors were different, and he wore a dark jacket with white leather patches along the shoulders and arms. The helmet was different too, instead of mimicking the ears of her father’s cowl, his was simply rounded and crimson in color, though she bet that his visor input ran on the same tech her father’s did. Her eyes briefly fell to the red bat symbol painted across his chest, and for a moment, everything seemed to fade until the anger came back to her.

She clapped a hand to her chest, her voice cheerfully fake. “Oh, silly me, I forgot! You’re not going by Arkham Knight anymore! You’re going by ‘The Red Hood’!” Her voice lost the fakeness, replaced by a hard edge and she leaned back against the window, suppressing the urge to shiver from the chill, her eyes dark. “What do you want, Jason?”

He stood up straight, his head tipping upwards, and she couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew they were trained on her. “I wanted to see you.”

(Y/N) scoffed, a smile crossing her lips. “Well, you saw me. Now fuck off.”

Jason sighed. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, so you mean you wanted to see how I was doing after you ruined mine and the lives of the people I cared about?” He said nothing, and she leaned over, finger running along the button of the answering machine. “You wanna see me, Jason? Well how about you listen to this?”

She hit play, and a message came through. “(Y/N) Wayne? This is Vicki Vale. I really would like to talk to you about what’s happened in the past few months, and with your dad—”

(Y/N) hit the next button, and another voice filled the room. “(Y/N), this is Jack Ryder. Listen, I know you’ve been hounded by reporters since it’s been revealed that your dad was Batman. I want to talk to you about—”

She hit stop, glowering back at him as she pointed to the machine. “Every. Day. Every day I get the same messages over and over and over again. (Y/N) Wayne are you Batgirl? We should talk about it! Your dad was Batman, so you must be Batgirl! How are you going to pay for all the damage and destruction your dad did all these years? How are you going to answer for what he’s done? How can we trust Wayne Enterprises anymore? What’s it like having to pick up the pieces of a broken life after your dad…after your dad…”

(Y/N) brought a hand to her face, covering her mouth. The tears ran down her cheeks, cascading over her hand, and she glared at Jason, her voice raw with emotion. “Everything that’s happened…is all your fault.”

He took a step towards her, shoulders squared as he placed a hand to his chest. “You can’t blame this all on me, (Y/N). Bruce was the one who activated the Knightfall Protocol—not me.”

Her lips wobbled as she countered hoarsely, “After Scarecrow revealed his identity because of events that you put into place.” She placed the glass on the table, spreading her arms. “So, have you gotten your revenge, Jason? Does it feel better to know that you succeeded in killing my dad? In killing Batman?”

He looked away and something wrathful inside (Y/N) snapped; she picked up the liquor glass and chucked it as hard as she could, missing him by an inch as it hit the wall. It shattered into a million shards as the amber liquid trickled down the wall, and her words came out enraged. “ANSWER ME DAMNIT!”

He met her eyes and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, hands flexing at his sides. “I didn’t mean for all this to happen,” he said, and she barked a laugh full of disbelief.

“What did you think was going to happen, Jason? Reveal who Batman was, kill my dad, and everything else was just gonna work out in the end?” She pointed to the street below. “I can’t walk ten feet out of this building without being hounded by press and reporters about everything.”

She shook her head, feet carrying her past him towards her bedroom. “You get off scot-free with anonymity and I get stuck cleaning up a giant shitstorm. Figures. You can find your way out.” She hadn’t made it a step past him when a hand shot out and curled around her bicep, pulling her back.

(Y/N) thrashed, trying to yank her arm away from his grip. “Let go of me!”

Jason’s grip tightened, and he grabbed her other arm. “No!” He leaned close to her, his voice firm. “We’re not leaving this alone anymore. We’ve been circling one another since that night, and I’m done playing games, (Y/N). We’re talking about this.”

She huffed in disbelief, staring at him. “There is nothing to talk about, Jason.” (Y/N) waved a hand between them. “What we had…it’s gone.”

“Are you sure it is? Because as much as you seem to hate me, you can’t stay away from me whenever we’re patrolling Gotham together.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, firstly, I follow you to make sure you don’t kill innocent people. And secondly, I’m pretty damn sure what we had is gone. I think about punching you more than I do anything else.”

He hummed, staring down at her and she was starting to get the urge to right-hook him when that familiar smugness set in his gaze. The same smugness he used to pull with her a few years ago when they were together. A memory flashed of Robin and Batgirl arguing, her annoyed and him smug as hell.

“I don’t believe you,” he countered lightly.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you believe, Jason. The truth is we aren’t together anymore.” She started squirming again. “Now let go of me and get the hell out of my penthouse.”

He fell silent and simply stared at her before responding quietly, “Tell me you don’t love me or that you don’t need me anymore and I will.”

(Y/N) froze and her eyes went wide. “Excuse me?” Her voice was a whisper, as Jason released one of her arms, his gloved hand coming up to caress her cheek.

“You can tell me that we’re done all you want, (Y/N).” His hand left her cheek, rising to pull the jacket-hood from his head and yank the helmet off. He tossed it on the couch and Jason gazed at her, his teal eyes boring into hers. “But until I hear you tell me that you don’t love me anymore, I’m not moving from this spot.”

He held his head high, looking down at her. “So, tell me. Tell me you don’t love me anymore and I’ll go.” Jason searched her gaze. “I’ll go and I’ll never come back.”

(Y/N) stood there, the breath in her lungs frozen as they watched each other. After a moment, she lowered her head and murmured, “I don’t…I don’t…” She stopped, swallowing thickly, the tears that had swelled in her eyes threatening to run down her cheeks. “Oh, fuck it…I can’t do it.”

(Y/N) brought her hand up, covering her eyes even though the tears were already streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t tell you I don’t love you because…I still do love you.” She lowered her hand, gazing up at him. “And I never really stopped…no matter how furious I’ve been at you.” (Y/N) went slack against him, letting him wrap his arms around her. “Damn you, Jason Todd…damn you.”

His breath was hot against her ear as he chuckled lowly, tightening his grip. “I know.”

She pulled back a bit, looking at him teary eyed. “This doesn’t mean everything is okay now. I still want to beat the ever-living shit out of you.”

He huffed. “I know you do.”

Her voice turned watery. “I’m still pissed, and you’re still pissed and we’ve gotta work through that to get better.”

Jason nodded. “We will, (Y/N).” His hands cupped her cheeks, and he brushed his thumbs under her eyes, wiping the tears away. “I love you.”

(Y/N) nodded, burying her face in his chest. “I love you too.”

Do you believe in life after love?

141 notes · View notes

ladydevoir · 3 years

Note

Weiss coming out as trans to her team?

The halls of Beacon were quiet as Weiss walked through, though she was glad for the peace as her mind was swimming in thought. She was silently dreading returning to her dorms, knowing what was waiting for her. But, she had decided tonight was the night, and she would not cower away from what she had decided to do. Best to get it over with rather than continuing to let her dread grow. Soon a voice broke her train of thought. “Hey Weiss~!” She looked back as the owner of the voice caught up to her, a plastic bag in hand. “Hello Nora, It’s good to see you. I see your trip to Vale was productive.” Nora beamed back at her with her usual energy. “Good to see you too~ And heck yeah it was~ Me and Ren found that cute coffee shop you told us about, Jaune actually managed to not throw up on the ride there, though he was wasnt as lucky on the way back, and me and Pyrrha went shopping for our dresses for the dance~ Oh, and here’s the stuff you wanted~” Nora held up the back for Weiss who took it and looked through it, a set of razors and shaving cream along with some skin care for after. “Thank you very much Nora. Im afraid I was starting to run low, and our team won’t be free to travel to Vale for a few days. Please, what do I owe you?” As she began to sift through her bag for her purse, Nora held up her hand. “Nuh uh uh, you dont owe me anything. Girls like us gotta stick together after all, and you’d do the same for me~” Nora’s usual high energy voice had softened as she spoke, to which Weiss was grateful. Since coming to Beacon she had been nervous about the truth coming out about her, thankfully Nora had seen through her immediately and been a true pillar of support. Weiss had been surprised and rather relieved when Nora had revealed she was just like her, and in moments like this it was wonderful to have someone to talk to and help her without any worry about questions she was not particularly wanting to answer. As if sensing some unease, Nora gently squeezed her shoulder and nodded her head towards a small bench in the hall. As the two sat down, Nora spoke up. “Hey, you doing ok? You seem off.” Weiss sighed and nodded. “I am just...nervous. I promised myself that tonight would be the night I tell the rest of my team, the truth about me.” Nora watched Weiss’s expression, seeing the build up of worry on her face. “You know the others aren’t going to suddenly turn on you just because of this, right? I cant imagine this would be a big deal for Ruby or Yang, and I doubt Blake would mind really.” Weiss let out another sigh and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes before responding. “I am fully aware that no one on my team will be upset or treat me any different.” “So...whats the problem then?” Weiss looked down, her eyes darting left and right to make sure there was no one else listening, before she spoke. “When Blake accidentally revealed that she was a Faunus, I….did not handle the news with grace. I accused her of having lied to us, keeping the truth hidden from us. And while I did apologise for it afterwards, I still cannot take back what I said. And that is why I am worried. I was so quick to accuse her of lying and hiding the truth and yet here I am, having done the very same thing since starting Beacon.” Her hands gripped one another as she looked down, shaking slightly. “My standing with Blake and the others is not exactly on stable terms, and I am afraid that revealing myself after all I said to Blake might cause more strife between us.” Nora listened quietly as she gave Weiss’s back a gentle rub. Thinking carefully before responding. “If you’re this worried, then why now? Why not wait?” Weiss took a deep breath and looked straight ahead, as if steeling herself for it. “Because I owe it to my team to be honest with them, especially after how I overreacted to Blake. I cannot allow myself to hide the truth any longer, even if…” She looked down at her hands, starting to tremble. Instantly Nora knelt down in front of her and gently cupped her face, speaking softly. “Hey hey, dont go working yourself

up over ifs and maybes. Sure, you said some things, but you said sorry, and they forgave you. Im sure they wont be bothered by this. And if things go south, hey you can always just join our team~! Though we’d need to work out how to include W to JNPR~” Weiss let out a sniffle and smiled, raising her head from Nora’s hands and slowly standing, Nora instantly hugging the girl, to which Weiss reciprocated. “Nora, thank you so much. You have been a wonderful friend to me and I cannot repay you enough.” Nora pulled back from the hug with a wide smile, her usual energy returning. “Hey come-on, thats what friends do, we look out for one another~” Weiss picked up the bag from the ground and nodded back, the two girls walking back to the dorms, idle chatter filling the time before they arrived, Nora giving a big thumbs up before entering her room, leaving Weiss with her hand on the handle, taking a deep breath before entering the room, barely having time to duck as a pillow came flying towards her, narrowly missing as she looked upon the scene. Ruby holding a pillow and swinging hazardly at Yang, who weaved out of the way and returned with her own swing, before the two registered Weiss and stopped. “Hey Weiss! You wanna join in~? Blake might join if its two on two~” Ruby chirped excitedly, her energy seemingly limitless. “Yeah come-on princess, I’ll be more than happy to whoop your butt as well as my little sis’s~” Yang said with a smirk on her face, before dodging a well timed throw from Ruby. Weiss sighed and picked up the pillow that had nearly hit her and closed the door, shaking her head. “Honestly it is a wonder how the two of you are considering becoming huntresses when you act like little children.” “Ah cmon Weiss-y, you gotta have a little fun now and then, whats the point of life if you stay ridged all the time~?” Weiss shook her head and made her way to her bed, placing the pillow onto it and sitting, restless as her worry was building up again. “Weiss? Are you..ok?” Weiss looked up startled at the last member of the team over on her bed, slowly closing her book and focusing her attention on her. “You seem….kinda tense.” Weiss took a breath to help calm her nerves as her other two teammates looked over, all showing a similar sign of concern. “Actually Blake, I need to talk to you. All of you, if that is ok?” Yang flopped down onto Blake’s bed and looked over at her, while Ruby sat down beside her, all eyes on her. “Whats wrong Weiss? Blake’s right, you’re looking real tense.” Weiss’s eyes focused on her hands as she fidgeted, trying to come up with the right words. She silently cursed herself, this should not be this hard. A hand coming to rest on her knee drew her from her thoughts as she looked over at her partner, a soft-yet warm smile on her face. “It’s ok Weiss, whatever’s wrong, you know we’re here for you, right?” Weiss felt herself relax slightly, thankful for her partner’s kind words. “Okay, I do not know how to properly say this, so please, be patient with me.” With a reaffirming nod from Ruby and an audible “Mhm” from Yang, she continued. “The truth is...I have not been entirely honest with the rest of you. And for that, I am sorry to all of you, but mostly, I am sorry to Blake.” Blake looked over, confused. “Weiss, what are you-” Weiss raised her hand to stop Blake, taking a breath. “I was not at all kind to you when you revealed the truth about yourself, despite the fact that in doing so, I was being extremely hypocritical myself. Ive been hiding a truth myself, and after all that has been said and done, I feel I owe it to all of you to be honest.” Weiss took a quick glance at her team, Yang’s expression was clear confusion, Ruby was still giving her the same calming smile, while Blake had become more focused on her. She took a deep breath and continued. “The truth is, I….was not born a girl.” Weiss waited for a response from the others, but when none came, she looked up at her three teammates. Yang looked somewhat shocked, Blake still had her focused look on her, though it was clear she hadnt

expected that. Ruby however, didnt seem shocked or surprised in the slightest. “So, like Nora?” Weiss nodded, and to her surprise found herself being wrapped in her partner’s embrace. “Aww Weiss, you dont have to be nervous, its not like we’d think of you any diferent, ya know?” Yang looked over, shaking off her shocked look and sitting forward. “Yeah, Rubes is right, you’re still our icy princess after all, right Blake?” Blake looked over at Weiss, her expression no longer one of shock, but of understanding. “You were worried I’d be mad at you, werent you?” Ruby and Yang looked to one another as Weiss nodded slightly. “I acted like you lying to us about yourself was such a big deal when I have been lying this entire time.” Weiss continued to hang her head. “Its ok Weiss, really. You already apologised more than enough times for me to know you mean it. And I get it, really. Growing up where you did, I know that kind of thinking isnt easy to get rid of.” Blake shifted herself and stood up. “But, you’re wrong about something.” Weiss looked up hesitantly as Blake stepped over to her, kneeling down in front of her. “You haven’t lied to any of us.” Weiss looked taken aback, not sure what to make of that. It was far from what she had expected Blake to say. “I...I am not sure I follow.” Blake smiled at her softly, resting her hands gently over Weiss’s. “You havent lied to us, because you arent pretending to be something you arent. You’re a girl Weiss, even if you weren’t born one. You haven’t hidden anything from us. From day one, you have been honest to us.” Yang soon walked over, sitting on the other side of Weiss. “Blake’s right, ya know? You’ve always been honest with us about who you are, and you didnt have to feel like you owed us to tell us.” She felt her eyes begin to well up, she knew they would accept her but she had fully expected Blake to be mad at her. To find not only was she not mad, but giving Weiss words of kindness and understanding as she had, it felt overwhelming. Said team was quick to embrace her as she felt a few tears flow, a small smile on her face. “T-thank you, all of you. I-I suppose I should not have been worrying so much over this.” Ruby gave her a gentle squeeze. “Well, worrying about things too much is something you’re best at.” “Hey!” They all laughed as they remained in their embrace, Weiss giving a gentle chuckle. Of course Nora has been right, she shouldn’t have been worried about hypothetical ifs and maybes, especially not with her team. A team that, day by day, Weiss would consider more and more her real family. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Whooo boy, this, this was a tough one. Im proud of how her talk with Nora went at the beginning, I felt like I wrote that well, and yeah I HC Nora as trans. But writing her coming out to her team, I kept erasing and redoing parts because I really did not know how to do it right. This is one I feel like I should come back to when ive gotten some more experience writing.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie

25 notes · View notes

sockendrache · 3 years

Text

Until the very end

Think about how cool it would be if the Rotten Vale from MHW was a thing in MHST!!

Imagine an adult Rider, who’s been with their Monstie for decades, who’s been through so much with them, sensing that the end is near...

(Small story under the cut!)

I know you’re tired.

My gloved hand strokes over your big, scaly head. It feels warm to the touch, surprisingly soft too, even though those scars look so sharp from afar. They’re worn from the many battles we’ve been through, littered with scars, evident of your age.

You look at me with those big, curious eyes of yours. The ones that looked at me with a sense of wonder all those years ago, back when your shell had just cracked.

The hills are starting to become mountains, huh?

I feel the same way, buddy. I don’t know if you can feel it, but.... I can feel the age in my bones, too. My weapon became heavier over the years, the falls start to hurt. I don’t shrug off the bigs hits like I used to.

We sure went through a lot, right, pal?

I wish I didn’t have to do this. But it’s a part of being a Rider. Just like death is a part of life. And as your friend, I can’t have you go on this journey alone. Not when it’s your last.

I got you your favorite.

Back then I avoided spoiling you too much, lest you became too much of a puppy. Used to having your meals presented to you on a sliver platter, already cut up so you didn’t have to chew. But now, when we sit around the fire together... I can’t resist preparing your dinner for you. Not when you look at me with those big, tired eyes.

My big, handsome boy.

The spark in your eyes is starting to fade, the curious fire starting to die. But it’s okay. You’re still handsome. My big, handsome friend. Yes, you!

Slept good?

It’s hard to smile at you now. Not because I don’t love you, though. I do, all the way to the old world and back! But when I look at you, your scales starting to look discolored and frayed at the edges... I’m reminded of the egg I carried home one day. Back then, when I could still fit you into my arms and carry you around. These days, it’s you who carries me. Even though I don’t put your saddle on anymore.

Both of us, our steps are careful and slow as we track our way through the New World. Scouting flies leading the way, we follow at our own pace. No hurry at all. It’s not quest we’re on, no time-limit we have bestowed upon us. No, it’s just me and you. Old buddies on our last journey together.

Your voice is a gentle, low bass next to me. It’s reassuring in a way. Though, I do find myself missing your squeaky chirps from your days as a hatchling. You weren’t so different from my village’s Gargwa-chicks, back then... until you shot up in height, growing like a weed and seemingly never stopping.

The fresh breeze of the Coral Highlands feels nice against my skin. It smells of life, in a way. Maybe it’s just imagination, formed on the knowledge that all those little specks, snowflakes dancing in the wind, are actually coral-eggs. Using the currents to travel through the New World, where they become a part of the food chain.

It’s an ecological masterpiece. One that dwarfs everything I’ve seen on my travels so far.

When I look at you, though, I’m briefly reminded of my hatchling. The way you stick your big snout up, your flat tongue sticking out to catch the corals. Even now, you’re still as playful as you were before.

I ease myself down onto the big, spongy coral we’re standing on and just watch you for a while. Maybe I’m already grieving; though, I don’t want to think of it like this. No, I’m merely watching my old friend play a little, before we continue our journey to the rotten heart of the New World.

All done playing?

Night has already fallen when you fall to a lay next to me. Dinner has long been cooked and devoured, our campfire nothing but a few glowing coals refusing to die out, but I can’t find it in myself to settle down.

I end up spending the night leaning against your fat, scaly belly, listening to the distant roars of Monsters, seeming to come from down below. My armor is in a pile nearby, my weapon leaned against the walls of the cave we’re camping out in. I don’t bother re-kindling the fire; your body-heat alone is enough to keep me warm.

I love you, buddy.

You rub your big head against my cheek, a calming ‘churr’ emerging from deep within your throat. We do not speak each other’s languages, but this is easy to translate. Oh, buddy. I love you too. To the old world and all the way back.

One last, delicious snack.

You were always excited by the Kelbi-Jerky I keep in my waist-satchel. In all honesty, I never liked it- but seeing you gobble it down in a matter of seconds made me keep buying it. And today, I don’t mind the chewy, dry texture- but meals always taste better when you share them with loved ones.

I can’t come with you on this journey...

I remember when the Rotten Vale was first discovered. Researchers from all over the Old World set sail to go see it for themselves- the graveyard of elders, they called it. The place that called out to Monsters when the end was near. The New World’s rotten heart, the place that kept all of the continent’s amazing fauna and flora alive, despite being a crawling death-pit. Back when I first carried your egg home, I didn’t know yet that this would be our last journey together... but as your Rider, I promised to stay by your side, until the bitter end.

....but I promise, I’ll see you on the other side.

One last time, your big, flat tongue darts out from your snout and licks a long, wet streak across my face. I’d like to imagine you didn’t see the salty tears building up in my eyes, but deep down, I know. I swallow back a watery laugh as I scratch behind yor ear-holes, pressing a big, snotty kiss on top of your head. Even at the end, you still have more empathy than some of the humans I’ve encountered.

May the sapphire star guide you, my friend.

I watch as you make your descend into the depths of the Vale, though; I soon loose sight of you as the effluvium engulves you. I know that this is marks the end of your journey- this is where you’re supposed to be. In the New World’s rotten heart, where you will give your body up to the land, where it will turn into nutrients that will feed the Coral Highlands. Where you’ll be part of a new life, that will find its way back to the Vale once the end is near.

It’s an elegant dance between life and death, swaying in the gentle winds of the Highlands; I think as I sit by the Vale, staring down into the clouds of efflvium that became your new home.

#mhst2 #monster hunter stories #monster hunter stories wings of ruin #rider #monster rider #monsties #fanfiction #monster hunter fanfiction #monster hunter rotten vale #rotten vale #coral highlands #pov first person

23 notes · View notes

catxsnow · 3 years

Text

AFTER HOURS chapter two

Summary: Enemies to the public, friends to their close ones, friends with benefits between them. Rival companies and an attraction that can’t be ignored.

Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: swearing, mature content, smut, 18+ only, mention death of parents, car crash mentions.

A/N: Chapter twooooooo it shall be getting more interesting next chapter😏

Word Count: 3.6k

It seemed that her life seemed revolve around business meetings. Nine in the morning, another at eleven, two at noon but there was no way to attend both, a final one at three. Meeting after meeting, and for what? To hear the same things over and over again? Some people choose to do this for the rest of their lives.

There was something about the busy Gotham streets that always caught her attention. Maybe it was the sound of the horns, or the people yelling within their cars. Gun shots or screams. There was always something to distract her from whatever meeting she was forced to listen to. Maybe it was because she didn't want to listen to it at all.

Of course, running this company was important. Without her parents, she had to take control of it. It was an important company too, just along side WE, they worked to make Gotham, and the world a better place. That didn't mean that she wanted to here about the statistical analysis of it all.

Not to mention that the weight of her parent's anniversary was heavy in her mind. Four years since they had been gone, four years of blaming herself. They went to Gotham to visit her, if they had just stayed home, they would still be home. Car accidents happen all the time, but that didn't make it any easier.

The second that the final meeting was over, she couldn't seem to get out of that room fast enough. She just wanted to be in the privacy of her own office. The door nearly slammed shut as she closed it. Back against the wall, heavy breathing as she tried to hold herself together. It was always hard on that day of the year.

A bright bouquet of flowers was on her desk. With a shaky breath, she headed over to see who they were from. It wasn't rare for her to receive flowers. Gotham's greatest bachelorette - more like people wanted her for sex and money. Without that company, she wouldn't have been idolized like that.

The bouquet was grand: flowers of every color and kind poked out from it. Whoever this was, they had spent a lot of money on it. (Y/N) picked up the small card and read what it said.

For your parents. I know days like these aren't easy, I'm sorry. - T.D.

"Those are pretty."

"Ms. Vale," her jaw clenched at the sound of the voice behind here. Great, this was the last thing that she needed to deal with today. Vicki Vale had a tendency to show up on her worst days. "What do I owe the pleasure of today and who let you into my office?"

"I let myself in," she said. Vicki Vale stood tall and proud. She had a large purse over her shoulder which surely held a plethora of notebooks and pens. Always ready to catch a story and always eager to stir up drama within the city. "Hope you don't mind. Just wanted to ask you a few questions about this new business deal that you're about to make. But, now I'm curious about the flowers, who're they from?"

"Why don't you tell me?" She sat in her chair as Vicky sat in the one across from her. "You do enjoy making headlines about me and my, as you say 'promiscuous life'." There had been many titles about (Y/N) - between her risky clothing, the second that she were talking with a man outside of business, or her attempts for normal dates - she was there.

Vicki casually reached her perfectly manicured finger tips towards the card from the flowers. Before she could even come near, (Y/N)'s palm slammed down on the desk. She pulled the card towards herself and out of the reach of Vicki. The last thing she needed was for the reporter to put two and two together to realize T.D. was Tim Drake-Wayne.

"Another hopeless lover of yours?" She raised an eyebrow. There was no answer. "I just wanted to ask you what you thought about Wayne Enterprise's attempt to stop the progress of your new development? Mr. Drake - sorry, Mr. Wayne, had lots to say on the matter, I hope you do as well."

"As a matter of fact, I don't." WE's attempt to stop the development was futile. Even Tim had told her that. There was no reason for them to try and stop it when in the end it would benefit both companies. They just wanted their name on it rather than hers. Everyone in both companies knew that.

It was for namesake that there was disagreements about the development. She was lucky enough to have beaten Tim to it first. This was going to a be a massive break for the company, one that would sky rocket sales and put you neck and neck with Wayne Enterprises once again.

"Mr. Wayne is your biggest competitor, aren't you worried?" She continued to pry. (Y/N) had gotten skilled over the years of not letting the curiosity of others get to her. She was able to keep her face straight and her mouth shut - even when she had lots she wanted to say.

"Mr. Wayne has always, and will always be my biggest competitor. Unfortunately for him, I was the one to give the statement first about this new addition to the city. I will become Gotham's biggest economic resources, just as I have always tried to do in the past - and just as Mr. Wayne has always done in the past."

"So, you're saying that you public enemies?" Vicki pressed. She had always known about (Y/N)'s vendetta against the WE, but there had never been a statement that she tried to take the company down so hers could thrive. That was never her intention, they could co-exist always.

"I'm saying, Ms. Vale, that Timothy Drake-Wayne is a smart man. He knows when to push through fights, and he knows when he is losing. This time, he's lost. The next time, I won't be so lucky. Those who are fighting for the same cost are never enemies," she firmly stated.

"Will you be attending the Wayne Gala?" Vicki continued. Of course, there always had to be questions that weren't related to the company. She wanted anything to see (Y/N) with a man, just to make a headline for the decade. In all these years, not once had she been caught in the dating scene.

"No. I've made a donation, but I will not be attending," She answered. The tag from the flowers seemed to burn the skin of her hands. Tim sent those flowers because he worried, not because he wished to impress her. "Don't you have some better reporting to do rather than finding strings to cling onto of my personal life, Ms. Vale?"

"That'll be all for today."

Tim's bouquet of flowers felt heavy in her hands. The weight of having to visit her parent's graves was always a hard task to do alone. As time passed, it seemed easier to go visit them. Years of working hard to make them proud, years of showing them how much the business they started thrived.

There was nothing more that she wanted than to make them proud. Even as a child - working hard in school, playing sports, everything that would have brought a smile to their faces. In death, it felt like she needed to work even harder. Then again, as time passed, she forgot the sound of their voices, the crinkle by their eyes as they smiled, she forgot the warmth of their hugs.

As time passed, she forgot that she could be happy.

Work consumed her in the past four years. Late nights at the office, early mornings, weekends even. She lost friends, disconnected from family, deterred everyone away. Running this company had changed her life, and not necessarily for the better. The responsibility of it all was almost too much to handle on her own.

"Mr. Wayne's son bought these for you," she spoke to her parents graves. Tim's flowers sat on the grass, bringing some brightness to that gloomy day. "Surprising, I know. He's very kind, I think you guys would like him if he wasn't running Wayne Enterprises. At this point though I think you would like any man that I talked to.

"I miss you both, a lot. I'm securing a new development in the company, it's really going to pull us ahead this time. Dad would have thought it would have been a risky move, but I did it. I beat them for once. I hope you guys are proud of me up there, I'm really trying to make this city a better place in your name.

"Happy anniversary mom and dad, I love you," she sighed once more before heading back to her car. The walk back seemed long. Her shoulders hung low and she furiously wiped away the hot tears that threatened to spill down her eyes.

To her surprise, Tim was there, leaning against his own car right next to hers. He was reading something on his phone, but as he heard her footsteps, he looked up. "Mr. Wayne, thank you for those flowers, they were beautiful. What are you doing here?"

It wasn't often that they met up in public without there being some sort of business meeting along with it. Tim shoved his phone in his pocket and gave her a smile filled with sympathy. To be honest, he was visiting his own parents. Their chat the previous night had edged him to go visit their graves.

It just happened to be lucky timing that she was there as well. Tim didn't want to disturb her, but he did wish to speak to her. He always wished to talk with her - not just about business. He liked being with her, she was refreshing in his life of darkness. Without evening knowing much about it, it seemed she understood him more than anyone.

"I was in the area," Tim vaguely answered. He knew that he could tell her that he was visiting his parents just like she were but he felt deterred from doing so. Besides, upon seeing the redness in her eyes, he didn't want to worry about anything besides her. She had been crying, it was evident for someone like him. "I'm glad you liked the flowers, they used to be mother's favourites."

"They stirred up quite the fuss with Vicki Vale today," she tried to joke. Tim rolled his eyes at the sound of her name. He wasn't her biggest fan, in fact he was far from it. Vicki had single-handedly meddled into his life and forced him to live an entire year with a fake spinal injury and crutches. He had gotten off of them just before meeting (Y/N).

"She came to see you too, huh?" Tim shuddered at their meeting that afternoon. Question after question about his involvement with Ms. (L/N). Vicki was sure that there was something going on between the two of them - and for once she was right. "The new development or your latest hot date?"

"Considering my latest hot date is non-existent, it was the development. But, she was pretty eager for me to say something about you," She half-smiled. Tim shook his head, of course. Vicki was always trying to start a turf war or make the two of them fall in love. "I know you just came over last night... but I could really use a distraction from today."

A distraction. That seemed that was all he was to her. Nothing more than something to get her mind of the life she was thrown into. Of course, that was what it was all about at the start. Fucking to forget. He knew it, he went into their benefit relationship knowing it but as time grew...

"There's nothing wrong with taking a break from work," Tim changed the subject a little too quickly. In the four years he had known her, she had aged. Worried creases were around her eyes and scattered on her forehead. Dark circles always under her eyes. It worried him. "I'm not saying leave or anything, but you can have fun every once in a while. It's a Friday night, why not go to the bar with your friends? Let loose and live a little."

Tim was right. She wasn't the young eighteen year old anymore that would have been chastised for having a drink. It was legal for her to go out and have fun, maybe tonight was the kind of night that she deserved. Her parents wouldn't want her to sulk over their deaths, they would have wanted her to live her best life.

Going out was exactly what she needed. Not a distraction, not something that would keep her mind busy for a couple hours just to fall back in her pit of despair. She needed a genuine change in her life, and maybe that started with connecting with old friends and making some new ones.

As no words came out of her mouth, Tim took the time to realize that it was his moment to leave. She was obviously deep in thought with his words. He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it before getting into his car. "I hate when you call me Mr. Wayne," he told her.

It was true, not only did it make him feel old, but it also made him feel like they didn't know each other at all. That was far from the truth, they both were far closer to each other than they would like to admit. Tim knew of her desire to keep their relationship business - and emotionless sex. They were after all, public enemies.

For the first time in years she woke up with a hangover. Pounding head, upset stomach - it was a feeling that she didn't miss. It wasn't rare for her to sleep naked in her own home, but it was to feel a heavy arm across her waist. Dark hair, muscular back - for a second she swore it to be Tim, but this man wasn't nearly as broad as he was.

Aside from the thumping in her head, memories of what happened the night before started to resurface. She had taken Tim's advice and called up her friends to go get a drink. One drink turned to two, which turned to shots and getting plastered. It had been so long since she had seen them all that letting loose was almost too easy.

She knew that she shouldn't have gotten that drunk, but having fun like that for the first time since she started working at that company was exhilarating. Unlike she had thought - her friends accepted her right back in. They knew that she was under a lot of pressure and that making time wasn't easy. They were just thankful for that night.

So, with a small reunion at the front of the bar, they headed in and got hammered. She treated her friends round after round - partially because she easily could and partially for an apology. It didn't take long for them to become a laughing mess while catching up and remembering the old days.

By the time the night was coming to an end, her friend pointed out the man that had been eyeing her up for hours. Whether it was the alcohol, the need to continue her good night, or to show her friends that she was just as fun as ever, she went to the man. Minutes later, they were walking out of the club and into a taxi.

Now, he was asleep in her bed and she had no idea whether or not anyone outside of her friend group knew what had happened. The man stirred. He pulled himself closer towards her as he woke. Warm brown eyes met hers, a genuine smile. What was his name? Jacob.

"Good morning beautiful," his voice was hoarse, sexy. Her mind raced between the option of soaking up some more moments of fun or getting back to her usual self and kicking him out. She went with the first one as he glided his hands along the curves of her side before placing his hand at her jaw.

It made her falter. This man... as good looking and as sexy as he was, he wasn't Tim. He didn't please her like Tim did. He didn't make her feel as good as Tim did. Even the sound of his voice didn't bring her the same amount of excitement. Why did she feel like she betrayed him? They were allowed to sleep with who they wanted.

She pushed away the feeling. Tim was the one to tell her to go out and have fun. Let loose from the burden of running a company and just the kid that she was. Sleeping with men, getting drunk, that was all part of her teen years that she missed out on. Tim wanted her to have this.

"Coffee?" She asked. Maybe that would stop the ridiculous headache she had. Or maybe she was using it as an excuse to get out of bed with him. Jacob nodded. He pulled her in for a long kiss, lingering against her for just a moment too long. The two of them grabbed whatever scattered clothes they could before going to her kitchen.

As the smell of coffee beans filled the air, she checked her phone for the first time that morning. Unlike the endless abundance of emails that she had gotten - there was a plethora of missed calls and texts. This was far from usual. Her eyebrows furrowed as she opened up the one from her closet advisor.

A picture of her and Jacob leaving the club, pictures of them kissing, her taking shots and drinking with her friends. Is she really mature enough to run this company? Black bold letters stared back at her. This was exactly what she was trying to avoid. The media had taken her one night of fun and turned the city against her.

"Fuck," she breathed out.

"What's wrong?" Jacob asked. Genuine concern was in his eyes for why she was suddenly upset. She was frozen in her spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the screen. Jacob stood behind her, hands on her shoulders as he glanced over the article itself. "Oh." He never assumed that the media would do this.

In the bar, he knew who she was. Everyone in Gotham knew who she was, however he never expected her to be that beautiful in person. His friends had been hyping him up all night to go talk to her, but he knew it would never be a success. So, when she came to him, he couldn't say no.

Now, he worried that in one fowl swoop, he had tainted everything that she had worked so hard for.

"I think you should go," she told him, not trying to be rude. This wasn't his fault, none of this was. It was her fault for agreeing to her friends to go after him, it was her fault for agreeing to Tim's idea. Tim. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't offered. Was this a ploy to get her company to fall so he could come out on top?

"I know it doesn't really mean much from someone like me, but... No matter what Gotham has to say about you, I think you’re the only one keeping this city somewhat sane," Jacob told her. He genuinely thought her to be a good person - not just some chick with a nice ass and easy access. There were people in Gotham that wanted to see her succeed, regardless of her age.

It was a hard idea to get through her head - people believing in her for her brain, not her body. So many articles, just like the one she read this morning, forced her to a life that made her weary of trusting people. She wanted to be seen as powerful, influential - not as a little girl who ran around sleeping with people.

"Thank you," she smiled. "If it means anything, I did have a great time last night." Jacob chuckled, but agreed. He waved a final time and left her home. Reluctantly, she went through the rest of the texts that she had gotten over the night. All of them were the same - reminding her that she was still an immature kid.

The board of directors, her friends, advisors - everyone seemed to have seen it before she had. It was the text from Tim that stood out to her the most. I see you took my advise, hope you had fun last night. Don't worry to much about the paps.

Don't worry? Don't worry? The great Tim Wayne had nothing to worry about, ever. Her on the other hand? She was constantly under scrutiny. In the eyes of society, Tim was the perfect candidate to take over WE. He was smart, cunning, he had a way with the people. It seemed that there was never anything bad for someone to say about him.

Her life on the other hand? She fell under Gotham's microscope and was picked apart until there was nothing left beside the mistakes she had made. This was another mistake, another mishap that would push her back and make her fall under the hand of Wayne Enterprises. The same man that tried to convince her that this was the best thing that she could do for herself.

This was Tim's fault, and she was furious.

@julia-and-comics @unknowntoanyone @willieoo @kindashittywriter @subtleappreciation @yandereforyou @pricetagofficial @because-icanhide @magicisabluewish @hyp-oh-critical @littleredwing89 @boy-georgina @sparkleofpizza @craptainlou @timtimmersdrake @hauntingsonofrobin @anothertimdrakestan @idkmanicantenglish @vvipgot7be

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake smut #Tim drake fanficition #tim drake fic #tim drake x fem!reader #red robin #red robin imagine #dc imagine #dc #after hours #tim drake series #smut

182 notes · View notes

it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 3 years

Text

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 18

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual harassment? (Andreas is a creep)

Word count 2.9k

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

It wasn’t a mirage, your weren’t going crazy. You couldn’t believe what your Mum was telling you.

“She just thought she killed me, I could sense you were there and I knew her true motives. Before she could strike I confused her with my magic, tricking her mind and everyone arounds minds into seeing what I made them see. In reality, I was still standing there, hidden by a vale of magic, very much alive. I’m so sorry I put you through that, but she knew you were hiding there, your reaction needed to be real or she would never had believed I was truly gone.”

You didn’t know if you were crying sad tears or happy tears, all you knew is you were relived that it was all just a cruel trick of the mind and not reality. You were exhausted and couldn’t help but yawn as you sat around the fire. Looking around you watched the withered and tired faces of your friends too, Sky, who’s hair was disheveled from the amount of times he’d ran his fingers through it, a trait he’d no doubt picked up from Silva. The other specialists, rigid and too on alert to fully relax and rest. Your Winx girls, all weary eyed and weepy from your mothers story. Sam, still rattled from his almost deadly encounter with the Burned one and then Mr Harvey, who probably had the most to worry about. His children in danger, the reappearance of his thought dead childhood friend, his missing childhood friend Silva and the fact the school is under siege. Would you ever catch a break?

Budging up and being flush, side by side next to Farah Dowling didn’t seem like a weird thing to you anymore. If anything her not so deadly death put things more into perspective for you. You would be lost without her after just finding her again. The warmth that radiated from your mother was comforting, your eyes felt heavy, but still, your mind didn’t rest. No, not without your Saul.

One by one your friends turned in, calling it a night. Now that your mother was back and had helped Ben Harvey reinforce the barrier, it might be the first night some people actually got a decent sleep. Just like old times you were sharing a room with the girls. The ‘Winx Cabin’ as Musa liked to say.

It wasn’t long before you were snuggled down under your stolen duvet, wondering about what would happen next. Surely the next step was getting Saul back, but how? Your thoughts were interrupted by your mother, approaching your bedside she dipped down. You were on the bottom bunk, Stella on top.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that. Bringing all these people to safety, finding a way to stay strong even when you thought all hope was lost. I’m sorry for what you had to see, but i’m here now and trust me, we will get Saul back.” With that she whipped the tears that fell from your eyes, kissing your forehead she whispered something you couldn’t quite make out and then before you knew it you were sleeping, for the first time in a few days.

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

Saul smiled at you. The same old smile that made your heart squeeze in joy and so so so much love. You had never loved anyone or anything as much as you loved the man in front of you. You knew looking at him you would take a bullet, arrow, blast of magic, whatever it was, you would die for him.

His fingers traced the line of your jaw, calloused but at the same time soft and tender, he knew how to touch you, you were his, to him you were the most precious thing in all the worlds.

“What are you thinking about?” His rough voice made your core tingle, your nipples hardened against the light fabric of your top.

“Us, how much I love you, how i’d do anything for you.” His eyebrow raised and he couldn’t help but smile. If he felt anything like how you felt in that moment, his heart would be beating 2x faster and his emotions would be overwhelming.

“Before I met you, I didn’t really believe in Soulmates. I knew they were a thing, just like i’m a Specialist and you’re a Fairy, but part of me thought it couldn’t be real, maybe because I didn’t think I deserved someone as amazing and loving as you, but now I know, I know that all this time I’d been wrong. I love you more than you could ever know Y/N.”

Lately you were used to waking up with tears in your eyes but your pillow was soaked. You’d been crying in your sleep, your eyes were bloodshot red and your nose blocked. God, another memory. Your heart was starting to physically hurt from being away from Saul. Maybe it was a soulmate thing? You had to get him back. It had to be today, you couldn’t wait any longer.

——————————————————————————————————

“You can’t just barge in there without a plan, it’s a suicide mission!” Your friends were having none of it. You’d decided that you were travelling to wherever the hell the Royal prison was and you were going to get your man back. Your mother had seen where they had taken him, being a mind fairy had its uses.

“Well you’re more than welcome to come with me, but I need to get him back, I can’t wait any longer! God knows what he’s going through and i’m not just going to sit here and wait for someone else to swoop in and save the day. It’s not going to happen!” You looked at all of your friends, they all had people now, boyfriends, people they were getting to know, they should know how it felt, even if it was just a fraction of what you felt for Saul.

“Terra what would you do if it was Helia, or Stella, what if it was Brandon! I could go on and on but you know what i’m getting at. If it were any of you in the situation, you’d be doing the same thing!” The shouting had attracted the rest of the camp, the Specialists running over to see what all the commotion was.

“You know, I agree with Y/N.” You were certain that Sky would have your back, even though he was fighting with his emotions as well, Saul was more a father to him than Andreas, he’d been alive this whole time and instead of seeking out Sky, spent his years fathering Beatrix instead.

“But first, I think we need to get a few things.”

With that, a plan was set in motion. As all good plans went by teenagers, it was on a need to know basis, which meant the adults… didn’t need to know. They would stop you if they knew what you were planning which is exactly what you didn’t need right now.

The plan was simple. Well, it seemed simple. You, Bloom, Stella, Sky and Sam would go through one of your portals back to Alfea for the supplies that you’d need to get Saul back. It was a risky plan, but everything you needed was in your Suite. You’d be in and out before anyone knew you were there.

——————————————————————————————————

The castle seemed quiet. The whole atmosphere seemed different since you’d last been at your school. It looked darker, less vibrant, sad almost. Everyone would be in bed by now which gave you the perfect opportunity to get in and get out again. Your portal had opened right in the centre of the living room. Your heart shattered when you noticed things out of place, up turned furniture, items strewn across the room. It wasn’t as bad as you’d expected though.

Sky and Bloom stood watch at the suite door while you got to work. First you’d need a bag, luckily your man had no shortage of military grade duffle bags laying around. Next, Sauls wardrobe, you grabbed some outfits for him, packing jackets, shoes, boots, the lot, not knowing where you might have to run to next. Then it came to weapons. The vault didn’t look like it had been tampered with. You looked sheepishly at Stella and Sam when they let out a low whistle. Impressed. Wait until they saw what was inside.

The code hadn’t changed for as long as you’d known the vault to an entire bedroom war room existed. The date Saul found you crying over one of the monsters your father had created and Rosalind had used, even before you found out you harnessed ancient magical abilities. With a click, the door swung open and you listened for the sure gasp of your friends behind you.

Guns lined one wall, Knives another. You went over and clicked a button on a hidden panel and even more sections of room appeared. Multiple stacks of uniform, cash, smaller objects like tiny daggers, grenades and smoke bombs and even some tactical equipment like ear pieces and tiny cameras. Your man had everything, was he a Specialist, a spy, an evil hit man? Who knew when you looked at his haul. It was pretty impressive. Each with a bag, you started filling up with everything you could take, swords, guns, even the little things. Anything that would help you in your quest to getting back the man you loved with every fibre of your being.

After you’d cleared out the vault and heaved the bags into the centre of the room, you packed a bag for yourself, you didn’t want to have to steal again just to get clean clothes, plus, it would be nice to have some home comforts. You saw Stella eyeing up your stuff, it hit you. You suddenly felt guilty.

“If were quick me and Sam could go and grab some clothes and personal things from the Winx suit, but not a lot okay. We’ve already been here too long.” She nodded and smiled gratefully. Bringing Sam was a brilliant idea, his ability to walk through walls would no doubt prove to be useful over and over.

You met him in the dorm, your swirling black portal closing behind you with a swoosh. Nothing was out of place, un-like yours and Sauls suite. It was as if time had just stood still. You both wasted no time, as quickly as you could the packing began, clothes for each of the girls, Stella’s makeup bag, Musa’s tapes, Terras travel bag of potions and powders as she liked to call it, Blooms sketchbooks and Aisha’s books.

Looking at the time you cursed in annoyance. You wanted to get things for the Specialists, Mr Harvey and your mum too but there was just no time, you had to get back to the others. With the bags, you and Sam in the middle of the room, the portal opened around you and you were sucked into the darkness.

——————————————————————————————————

“Well, look what we have here. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come back so soon. Theres me thinking Saul used to go for the smart girls, obviously I was mistaken.” You froze as you stepped out of the darkness. Andreas. His sword was flush against Skys neck, Bloom and Stella pinned to the wall by some of his royal guard goons.

“Drop the sword, we both know you’d never hurt your own son.” His mouth cocked to one side in an evil smirk. Your hands flexed at your sides. You were ready for a fight, lord knows you needed to take your anger out on someone.

“That’s where you’re mistaken.” To emphasise, he pressed the sword harder against his sons neck, small beads of blood pooling around the broken skin.

By now, your eyes were as black as the night sky. You could tell the sight had unnerved the guards, their hold on your friends loosening.

In a flash Stella warned you to close your eyes and her light erupted around the room stunning those who didn’t react fast enough. Luckily, you and your friends knew what she was doing and the only ones effected were the people it was intended for. It didn’t stop Andreas from charging forward though, his heavy muscled body colliding with yours, sending you flying to the floor with a hard thud. Your ears were ringing, the knock to your head making you feel like a cartoon with tweety birds flying around. With blurry eyes you could see Bloom and Sky fighting off the Royal Guards, while Sam and Stella were running to you. Andreas got to you first, landing his fist on the side of your mouth, his body coming over yours, pinning you down, straddling your waist.

“I see what Silva saw in you, pretty little thing.” His breath fanned across your face, his tongue sneaked out between his chapped lips and darted across your cheek, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Too bad, when i’m done with you, you won’t be so pretty anymore.” His fist came back again, but this time you were ready. Sauls fight training kicked in, you bucked him off you and rolled away from under him, it surprised him which you used to your advantage. Your hands thrown forward, black tendrils of your smoky magic sprung free, encasing Andreas. They wrapped around him like vines, tightening, his arms unable to lift from his sides. With one flick of your wrist, you sent his body hurtling into the wall. Then there was silence.

Bloom and Sky had taken down the Guards, Stella and Sam had gathered all of the supplies and you, you looked around at what was left of the room you once shared with your Saul. Meeting in the middle, you took Skys hand as he took one last look at his unconscious traitor of a father, before you all sank away into the abyss and back to the safety of your camp.

——————————————————————————————————

The camp was just as quiet as the school had been. There was no way they could have found you, right? You’d half expected your mum and Harvey to be screaming at you by now but the screaming didn’t come. Instead, raised voices could be heard beyond the barrier that protected you all from whatever was out there. This couldn’t be good. One knee to the ground, you were unzipping a bag with weapons, passing them out to those around you. Swords for you and Sky, a gun for Sam, Bloom opted for her magic and Stella, Stella had her badass ring, which before now you didn’t know doubled as a frikin magical sun staff? She shrugged when you looked at her.

“We will be talking about this later you secret sun ninja.” You jumped when the voices got louder. Following the direction of the heated talking, it didn’t take you long before you saw…actually, you weren’t sure what you were seeing.

A man and a woman dressed in some weird sort of black armour, face to face with your mother, the other Winx girls, the specialists and Mr Harvey. Now you as well. Your appearance attracted the gaze of the scary looking strangers. You raised your sword.

“Who are you and what the hell do you want, it’s been a long fucking night and I can’t deal with anymore shit right now.” You groaned, holding your head, a pain blooming behind your eyes, that fight with Andreas must have done more damage than you thought.

“Princess, we come in peace. We are mere messengers sent by your father, King Tenebris. You are all in danger, in 30 minutes royal troops will descend on your camp, we’ve been monitoring the situation. Rosalind deceived your father and now he wants to make amends with you. You are in danger if you stay here. Please come with us.” Information overload or what. You scoffed. These people and your father were just as bad as bloody Rosalind, why should you believe them?

“Why should we trust you, when all my father did was send the burned ones to attack my school!” The female guard took a confident step forward and held out her hand.

“An hour ago, your father ordered a specialist trained team of dark guards to extract Saul Silva from the Royal prison of Solaria. He is waiting for you at your fathers castle where you are all invited for safe housing.” Your heart felt like it skipped a few beats, how did you know it wasn’t a trick?

“He said you’d think it was a trick, he asked me to give you this.” In her hand, the dog tags Saul wore everyday. He never took them off, you touched the diamond ones around your neck. They were telling the truth. You looked to Musa and your mum, the mind fairies nodded, conforming the truth.

A booming sound ricocheted through out the forest. Time was up, it was time to go get your man.

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

Heyyyyy! So, a lot went on in this chapter but I hoped you enjoyed! We get our Saul back next chapter yipeeeee <3 Bit of a longer one for you as a sorry for my lack of posting recently!

Let me know what you think in the comments, like, share and FOLLOW ME <3

CHAPTER 19 ------ CLICK HERE

Taglist:

@tinktohispan

@azure23x

@alexiapayne12

@codykosuckmytoe

@lllyyysss02

@blue-aconite

@a-scrumptiouslywingedstudent

@music-of-melody

@cecedrake2217

@anreeixcobra

@sporadicsaladcloudgoop

@616hotchners

@janelongxox

@lflores2008

@shadowhuntyi

@yungkvte

@bshelley322

38 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 3 years

Note

I’m kinda curious what oz and team strq’s relationship is like in your ‘always i dreamed’ verse is like. got any headcanons to share?

ABSOLUTELY. :DDD

Now I could make this very angsty but I’m in a fluff mood so all aboard the (mostly) fluff train.

-Oz 100% becomes Team STRQ’s exasperated sibling figure and an adopted member of the team. They now refer to themselves only as Team STORQ (stork) because this is their Sad Headmaster Man. Ozpin is wary at first, but there is no stopping Raven once she decides to adopt and the others follow her lead.

-They have successfully moved into his apartment by the time they are fourth years, even if they hide this fact so Oz won’t get in any trouble for it. Just- this team of semi-feral and totally feral teens moving in and setting up shop in his too big apartment/could practically be a house inside another building that he inherited from the previous Oz. Taiyang is now the group cook, Qrow keeps flopping on the couch to play video games with the console he brought home from SOMEWHERE, Summer likes to maintain their weapons on the kitchen table and Raven is always down for sidling up next to his armchair to listen to him read aloud from whatever book he’s reading.

-Note that this is all the far side of a slippery slope for these kids, and it wasn’t an entirely fast process with Ozpin being stubbornly aloof afraid to make personal connections and Team STRQ being wary of their mysterious “only a few years older” Headmaster. But after Raven gets attached (read: breaks into his apartment at one point by accident because she had come to the conclusion someone had kidnapped him and discovered to her surprise that she could portal to him, which meant she was more attached than she thought) there is no escape. The adoption of Sad Wizard Man was inevitable.

-Team STRQ manages to hold a veneer of propriety in public right up until they graduate. Then they give it two weeks and promptly stop caring what the public will think and start openly hanging out with Ozpin. Qrow and Tai will drag him off on “guy hangouts” that USUALLY end in a narrow escape from trouble or even the police (Qrow’s luck at work), Summer will lure him into taking the day off to go book shopping with her, and if he stays in his office for too long doing paperwork when he should be clocking out and eating dinner/sleeping, Raven with calmly open a portal, march through, and then potato sack him back through the portal. No she doesn’t care if anyone is in the room to witness, Ozpin is terrible at self care and Raven is here to ensure he takes care of himself. Even if she has to force him to take breaks.

-All of Vale knows the rumors that Ozpin is in a relationship with all of Team STRQ by like- the end of the year after they’ve graduated, but these disaster children are 1000% platonic. They’re just like cats rather than conventional people. Sibling shenanigans and cuddle piles on the couch are all part of how they express affection and Raven and Qrow don’t care what society says and Tai and Summer have learned not to care either.

-Ozpin teaches all of them how to dance. Being a quasi-immortal means you know a lot of different dancing styles, and after Team STRQ gets curious he’s happy to teach them. His favorite is swing dancing but shhh.

-Ozpin is a school Headmaster and has memories stretching back thousands of years and many, many lifetimes. He knows how to comport himself with dignity and reserve, how to sit back and strategize rather than leaping into a situation before looking. He is unquestionably the Braincell of the group.

-Until he’s not.

-Qrow and Raven take far too much glee in coaxing Oz to act his *physical* age rather than the layers of mental age he has going on. And since he’s only in his twenties still when they graduate, that means they manage to talk him into doing some Really Stupid Stuff. Luckily, being a quasi-immortal and two ex-bandits means they are very good at escaping without being caught.

-Of course Team STRQ are involved in the Salem Thing, and so they do take orders from him, but off the clock they’re his gremlin siblings and he loves them fiercely. He honestly expects them to treat him differently after he tells them about Salem and the curse thing (they set up shop in his apartment back when they thought he was just a sad, too-young Headmaster who needed a Team of his own), but other than Summer acting weird and thoughtful for a few days to process and Tai stress baking to wrap his head around the “immortal queen of grimm exists” thing they go right back to treating him like they always have. So what if he’s a tangled ball of memories and magic limping around in a green scarf? He’s *always* been like that, now they just know why he can curse fluently in long dead languages.

-Ozpin still gives Raven and Qrow birb powers, Raven and Qrow proceed to take turns, when not on mission or otherwise busy, to perch on Ozpin’s shoulder for the day. All of Beacon knows about Ozpin’s “pet birds” by now and there are a lot of urban legends about it, but no one realizes that these birbs are his feral Branwen siblings keeping an eye on him and making sure he takes a lunch break while working.

-Because, as previously established, Ozpin kinda sucks at self care. Comes from having too many lifetimes worth of self-sacrificing mentality all blended around in one’s head.

-Raven fully abuses her portal powers to keep her family together. She and Tai have a nice place on Patch and Oz missed the flight over for the night when he was planning (read: ordered by Summer) to take the weekend off? No problem. Ozpin forgot something back at his apartment? Hi Glynda don’t mind her. Nice apartment by the way but Raven’s just passing through. (Glynda: sighs in annoyance but this has been happening for years and she doesn’t bother to care anymore)

-The Branwen twins were raised in a bandit camp, which means groups sharing economically sized (small) tents, which means sharing sleeping space. This means these two birbs have no concept of “propriety” when it comes to snoozing when there are loved ones around. It took a long time, but they slowly infected Tai and Summer with this lack of care too, and so when they got attached to Ozpin and discovered that this boy had possibly the largest bed ever (also inherited from his predecessor for reasons lost on Oz, since heaven knows Osamu had no interest in intimate relations), the result was inevitable. More than once Ozpin has woken up to discover that all of Team STRQ had migrated over to his bed at some point in the night and were passed out in varying positions and proximities on it. There is in fact enough room for them to all sleep without touching, but by morning Ozpin usually finds himself in the center of a tangled cuddle pile anyway with Taiyang serving as the space heater center and the others all clinging to one limb or another, either each other’s or Oz’s.

-It’s ... nice. It reminds him of lifetimes *lonng* ago when families all tended to live in one or two room houses. Or lifetimes when he had blood siblings who did this.

-Even though he knows this is flirting with death for them, because Salem would love to ruin this happiness he has, but he knows he cannot convince them to stay away, and he’s been starved for positive touch for lifetimes and he is ultimately a weak man who makes mistakes. And even knowing this will likely be one of them, he cannot bring himself to escape the pile.

-It just ... feels so good to not be alone. At least for one lifetime.

#SE asks #anon asks #Always I Dreamed verse #Secret Engima Rambles #Look i just want all the team storq fluff okay #all the platonic cuddles #and pranks #and just-#LET SAD WIZARD MAN BE HAPPY #thank you for coming to my ted talk

56 notes · View notes

howlingday · 3 years

Text

Jaune: Once again, my team and I gave ol' Specialist Schnee the slip. I was honestly surprised by how well she took it.

I finally got my hands on the top secret police file I've been trying to get all my life and avenge my family by regaining our most valued treasure.

It all began when I was just a kid, bouncing on my dad's knee. See, I come from a long line of legendary warriors who kept their ancient secrets hidden in the family book, The Arcus Atlas. I read it to become especially strong, fighting monsters and bad guys. After all, there's no honor, no challenge, and just no fun picking on the weak. You beat down a tyrannical dictator, and people know you're a hero.

Unfortunately, on the night I was to inherit the book, five visitors came to our door. My father fought to protect us, but the gang of villains known as Children of Grimm ransacked our home until they found... The Arcus Atlas!

Our family's manual of heroic deeds and greatness fell into their filthy hands! They tore the book into five pieces and split it up, each villain splitting to the farthest corners of the world to commit dastardly crimes.

Alone without my sisters or my mother, I was dumped at the nearest orphanage. There, I met two people who would become my lifelong friends and members of my crew. Oscar, tech genius and oldest soul I've ever met in a young person. Sun, part-time thief, and full-time loudmouth. Together, we vowed to track down the Children of Grimm, avenge my father, and take back the Arcus Atlas!

It was going to be the toughest mission of my life. I would either become a legendary warrior like my family before me, or fail and allow my family name to bite the dust.

Watts: How delightful! We have a guest. The only problem is... I HATE UNEXPECTED GUESTS!

Jaune: Listen, Watts; you kill my father and take what's mine, you should more than expect company.

Watts: Oh, I'm so sorry! How sloppy of us to not finish the job. Obviously, we should have snuffed you and your sisters out as well. So without further ado, allow me to make amends by, let's say... TRIPPING EVERY TRAP IN MY CHAMBERS AND SQUASH YOU LIKE THE INSIGNIFICANT GNAT THAT YOU ARE!

Jaune: Bring it on!

Watts: Damn it all! You've beaten me! Well, gloat all you want, Jaune Arc. You're no match for Hazel, my cohort in Mistral! You'll see... Haven Academy will be so guarded, not even an army could charge in without losing every man!

Jaune: Details in Watts' section of The Arcus Atlas held secrets of my Mistralian ancestor, Daisuke Arc and his Shinobi Slayer skill, which helped him fight off many a crafty ninja as they attacked the feudal lords he protected.

Getting out proved to be especially tricky with the unexpected arrival of Specialist Schnee. She could catch me, so she settled for Watts instead.

Hazel: Hmph. My men have been warning me of their experiences with a supposed knight in shining armor, breaking bones and absorbing hits, and this is it? You're the thorn I've had in my side all week? A child playing pretend with a garbage can lid? ...Hm. That garbage can lid looks familiar.

Jaune: Maybe my father broke your nose a few times so you wouldn't forget?

Hazel: Your father? Ah, I see. You're an Arc, and one of the more foolhardy ones, as well. Perhaps if you were sensible like your sisters, you would have abandoned your childish fantasy of being a hero and become something more valuable. After all, these pages are worthless, childish drivel.

Jaune: I guess you wouldn't mind me taking them, would you?

Hazel: After you destroyed my years long operations, decimated my supplies, and grievously injured my men? Yes, I would mind. Prepare yourself, child.

Hazel: Impossible! Me, a hardened veteran with decades of experience, bested by you, some child trying to play pretend. Take your pages, but know it won't serve you any purpose. As we speak, Tyrian is mobilizing his forces against Menagerie's rebels, and no "heroes" could ever dream of stopping him.

Jaune: Hazel's section of the Arcus Atlas contained information on my gunslinging, sunset-riding hero, Patch Willy Arc. His specialty was horseback cavalry and iron-horseback cavalry, fighting styles he perfected in the lawless lands of Wild Vacuo.

Getting out, once again, was harder than getting in, since Specialist Schnee didn't until she had me in cuffs. She eventually gave up and went for the next best thing, Hazel, and dragging him off to jail.

Tyrian: (Shudders) My tail is all tingly! Only two things could make it do that; and since I don't hear screaming, it's not my goddess. Which means, an Arc!

Jaune: Yeah, well, you give me the creeps, too, pal! Arming out a hate-war for unwilling and peaceful faunus isn't exactly a fun thing to sit back and watch!

Tyrian: (Chuckling) You say so much, and mean even more! It's almost enough to make me... Kill him, but only enough so I can deal the finishing blow myself.

Jaune: (Fights through White Fang, Tyrian leaps away) Get back here! You can't run forever!

Tyrian: I suppose you're right. Hmm... Ah, I got it! We'll play a game! You swing at me, and I dodge, all in one motion, and then I swing while you dodge!

Jaune: Uh-huh... And what's the catch?

Tyrian: No catch! Although, you have your hands full, while I... No, I think you'll figure it out yourself.

Jaune: I get it. You'll be using up to four limbs, while I can only use two.

Tyrian: Ooh! You are smart! I'm so glad you caught on so quickly, unlike your father.

Jaune: Well, I'm about to show you how unlike my father I am.

Tyrian: (Giggling) Oh, that was so much fun! No one has beaten me so well at my game since my goddess! Ha... Unfortunately, your game ends here. Cinder Fall is in Vale and she doesn't play games like us. You try and, well, even scorpions have predators, don't they?

Jaune: Well, if she's anything like the rest of you, I think I'll manage.

Jaune: The section of the Arcus Atlas that Tyrian had told me the secrets of Jarl Svendin Arc, my viking ancestor. His notorious berserker mode helped him beat impossible odds to protect his people.

Right on schedule, Winter showed up just as I was leaving. Apparently, trying to start a coup with the White Fang isn't something people just look the other way for, earning Tyrian a life sentence behind bars.

Cinder: I see you carry the shield of the legendary Arc warrior family. Let me guess; you're here for revenge, and take back the Arcus Atlas.

Jaune: Originally, yeah, that's all I wanted, but now I'm going to shut down your entire vigilante/criminal empire and bring peace back to Vale.

Cinder: Why should you care if I wipe out a few criminals? I'm doing my duty as a hero, just like you.

Jaune: Sorry, but you're only half right. I am a hero, from a long line of legendary heroes, and I pick up this sword and point it away from the innocent to protect them. You? You're some abused and neglected orphan who turned into a homicidal vigilante monster!

Cinder: You despicable wretch! I will punish you for your disrespect! ...But I will honor your heroic ancestry by slaying you with the power of my newly mastered technique: Dance of the Fall Maiden!

Cinder: You... really are a hero... aren't you? Where were you... when I needed... one?

Oscar: Jaune! OZPN just finished it's analysis about those crates of black goop we found, and it turns out there's only one place in the world you can find the wood those crates are made of- Atlas. The last of the Children of Grimm should be there!

Jaune: Cinder's part of the Arcus Atlas gave us insight on the brilliant designs of Johann Arc IV, genius inventor and world-class entrepreneur. He had an illness that prevented him from fighting like my other ancestors, but he still saved hundreds of lives with his medical breakthroughs and tactical mind on the battlefield. Working with Sun, I'm sure he and I can make a few modifications to our weapons, thanks to these designs.

Frustrated she didn't catch me on my way down, Winter tossed Cinder in jail, ending the dark crusade of Vale's worst hero.

Jaune: While trying to find details on the Children of Grimm's final member, I began to notice something weird. In every picture of my ancestors in the Arcus Atlas, there's a shadow of a woman in the background. Even weirder, these shadows look almost identical to what police records have of this mysterious "Salem". Is there a coincidence, or is there something I'm missing?

To be continued in...

Jaune Arc in:

THE BLACK HEART OF HATE

#rwby #jaune arc #sly cooper #oscar pines #salem #sun wukong #tyrian callows #hazel rainart #cinder fall #arthur watts

72 notes · View notes

redmaneroster · 3 years

Text

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [x-x] [6] [7] [8-9] [10]

PART 4 – Coping

Qrow isn't exactly the intimidating uncle so much as he is the nervous older friend. Sure, he comes in with cheek and swagger, but he hesitates sometimes and watches what he says. Things are uncomfortable for a while.

Jaune and Qrow are sitting alone on the sofa, eyes passed the TV and out the window. Jaune breaks the silence and asks him how he knew. Qrow, surprisingly, explains that he turned into a bird and followed them home. He fully intended to leave when they got into the door but then he overheard the bit about Ruby going missing so he sat by the window and waited for updates.

He fell asleep on the windowsill.

Yang's moaning woke him up.

Both men don't even dare look each other in the eye. They both agree not to bring that up with her for as long as they live.

It's minutes later after they've both taken a swig from their flasks that Qrow asks, "So what are you two?"

"I don't know," he answers; almost apologetic. Almost fearful, but not of Qrow. "We're close and trying to… forget things."

"Yeah, I can see that." Qrow takes another swig. "Tell me, is this about Tai and Rae?"

"More than a little, yeah."

"Those two idiots aren't the least bit careful anymore… I'm sorry she's lumping it onto you. If I'd done better, none of this would have happened."

"I don't mind just listening to her."

"I know. It's the fact that she has to go through it at all… She's still in school. Distractions are dangerous when you're still fresh on the hunt."

Jaune laughs. "She's been doing this for years. If anything, I'm the one that's still green."

"You runts don't get to be proper huntsmen unless you've faced a real, proper threat or graduated. To a licensed huntsman, there's a reason why you're all still in-training. All the glory and shit is the stuff you gotta revel in while you're still in the safety of these halls instead of roughing it in the wilds day after day, facing odds stacked against you."

Qrow is amicable, asking only that he doesn't also seduce Ruby. Jaune's confusion is answer enough. He's no Casanova. He isn't Taiyang. Qrow has it that he believes men like him are unprepared as partners and fathers. Jaune disagrees, saying that his own father was like Tai. To him, any man can work their way into being a proper partner.

They talk about it for long enough that Yang stumbles back into the apartment. She hopes Qrow hasn't spilled any embarrassing stories about her.

They're deftly quiet at that.

-0-

Yang doesn't stay long (it isn't like she spends every weekend with him after all), but she lingers at the door. She hears their muffled voices through the gaps but she doesn't strain her ears to decipher them. She isn't here to eavesdrop.

She hears them laugh. Briefly, she wonders if even Qrow knows Jaune more than she does.

Breathing evenly, she calms the fiery doubts and walks off.

-0-

"What are your intentions?" Qrow asks an hour later, once he's sure Yang is long gone because of course he knows when she's there.

"We didn't sleep together."

Qrow winces at the thought of them. Then it's so deeply uncomfortable that his whole body shudders. "Ah, god, fuck! Damn it, kid, I don't want to think about you two naked! How would you feel if I shared my stories with you!"

Jaune, similarly, melts down at the thought.

Yang actually comes back because she forgot Ember Celica. She hears them freaking out through the door and pivots into the other direction. Blake asks about her bracelets. Yang says it isn't important right now.

-0-

Jaune and Qrow sip their flasks at the same time. They joke about it.

When it's quieter, Qrow can see in his eyes that he wants to ask something so he encourages him to.

Jaune, with an uneasy breath, asks what Qrow is always drinking to forget.

Turns out, he doesn't drink to forget. Drinking is when he does the most thinking, actually.

Drinking is a hobby. Less a recreational drug and more a medicinal one. "Confused? Let me explain…" He doesn't recommend it but he's built up such a tolerance for it before he even went to be Beacon as a kid that it's all basically like water to him. Alcohol isn't his coping mechanism, but he confesses that he does technically have one if it can be called that.

He lost an old friend a long time ago and he isn't sure if his semblance is to blame. The thought has haunted him since. Grief mixed so deeply with poisoned guilt has made him obsessed with loneliness.

He enjoys the quiet nights sitting alone at home, eying the moon, dreaming of what ifs. He enjoys sitting in meadows, letting Summer heat hold him like a familiar embrace. He enjoys hunting solo and coming out on top, all in her name. It's proof that, even in death, she's still the best partner he ever had.

Alcohol is normalcy. It's where he thinks the most clearly, acts the most boldly, acts like himself. Being sober unsettles his mind, makes him act irrationally.

Somehow it makes sense. He always did seem the more sober man when he's got a flask in his hand. Even subconsciously, Jaune realizes that he's made that his gospel.

Qrow warns that it certainly isn't the same way with Jaune. (Jaune knows, of course. His tolerance is likely as weak Ruby's might be.) But Qrow confesses to being more worried about what he might do if he drinks too much. He saw all the whiskey in the fridge.

"I'm not going to hurt Yang. I stop myself from going too far."

"I don't mean Yang. She can handle herself around you, I'm sure." Qrow shows him a photo on his scroll. "This is what I'm worried about."

Jaune reels. He feels a few things. Mostly anguish, discomfort. Saphron and Terra are in Vale.

"When was this?"

"This morning. I thought they'd show up today and that I could be your convenient alibi for having an occupied guest room once they dropped in, but it looks they're busy doing whatever it is they're actually supposed to be doing in the city."

"They're going to come by eventually. Even if not today then…"

"I can't stay, kid," Qrow says, cautiously, quietly. "You facing them is just as inevitable as their visit. I'm no good at this stuff but... my advice: Don't run."

-0-

Yang comes back to Jaune sat at the sofa, staring at a movie he isn't watching. Yang turns it off and when the screen buzzes into silence, Jaune finally realizes she's in the room.

He doesn't notice the many bags she brought with her.

When she asks what's going on, he tells her that Terra is in town.

Yang asks if Saphron is with her.

He realizes that he forgot to mention his own sister.

Yang takes his hand and leans into his side. "It's that bad, huh?"

His free hand pulls out the now empty flask. "I might need more than the watered down whiskey."

She sits on his lap and pushes his flask away. "Get drunk on me." Her eyes are half-lidded and pleading, a promise etched into the wetness of her lips and heat rolling off her breath.

He does what she asks.

They press together so closely that he feels another one of inhibitions snap.

That night he decides – without really thinking about why – to steal a kiss while she sleeps. He realizes that the gesture is far too affectionate than it should be but can't bring himself to regret it.

She was awake the whole time.

-0-

PART 5 – Accommodation

Yang fixates on the kiss. Not that it's changed how she feels or how she's going to feel, only that she wonders what's changed for him with her. She finds herself lingering on his silhouette in bed, paying attention to subtleties in his tone, the way he moves around her or if he catches himself saying anything he wants to say but can't.

And all she's found in mapping him out is that he's no different from before.

Blake tells her that it could mean any number of things. Weiss maintains that it has to be burgeoning love. Ruby, much to their surprise, tells them that it was probably a moment of weakness and that he probably still doesn't know what it means.

The girls – Pyrrha included – suggest that Ruby is probably right. But Yang finds herself unwilling to accept it. She isn't one for sitting still. So instead of deferring to their wisdom… she hatches a plan.

It falls apart immediately.

-0-

Lingerie is her first idea, a vibrant red with thin enough material to tear off with ease. Scented candles to fill the spaces, lighting the bed and the nightstands while drowning the rest in dark. A nice ambient drone off the speakers in another room just to fill any silence. And makeup, the kind that layers thick and she feels physically on her face but comes recommended from Coco's article on a magazine.

She calls up Pyrrha to coach her on it, but the girl only blinks at her beyond the digital lense and asks, "Do you want him to sleep with you or fall in love?"

At first, Yang is confused until she takes a good hard look at herself in the mirror and… doesn't recognize who's looking back at her.

"I don't know," she says honestly. She smiles placatively and hangs up. Pyrrha knows she'll figure it out, but Yang has to first get rid of the mess she's made in his bedroom. Everything else will follow after.

She tosses the heels in the bin (they were cheap anyway), rips off her stockings, and covers up the rest in a bath robe. She tries to wash off the makeup but it smears and will take longer than she has time for. She tries too frantically to get the candles out and accidentally sets fire to one of his chairs – she ends up violently launching it into the tiled shower wall and leaves the shower running.

Finally was the music wafting in from the living room, playing off her scroll. She's already halfway into the living room when the front door opens. She freezes in place just as Jaune is letting in his guests, Saphron and Terra.

Yang doesn't know Saphron, not really, but there's a mutual trust between them when the older girl runs over to her, takes her by the wrist, and drags her back into Jaune's room.

Minutes later, Saphron is dabbing some solution on her cheeks. The makeup comes off in clumps – some semblance of relief comes with them.

"I'm Yang," she says suddenly.

Saphron's bemused smile banishes any tension she has left. Yang already embarrassed herself and not much could make it worse at this point when your first impression is half naked in the living room. She'd also spied the lingerie but she'd thankfully neglected to mention the familiar strap peeking off her shoulder.

"Saphron," she says but says no more. She focuses on the task at hand and Yang quiets with her. Then Saphron starts humming. It's familiar, as if carved out of a chapter in her life that she can hardly remember. Suddenly it's clear that this woman is a mother.

"My brother mention me a lot?" Saphron asks.

"He tries not to but can't help it. You always manage to come up in his stories to curb his nonsense. You'd be a punchline if the stories were supposed to be funny."

"Tends to happen." Saphron winks. "Us older sisters have to butt in all the time."

"He told you about me and Ruby?" She wasn't expecting to come up in conversation.

"No… I can just tell." Another smile. More secretly knowing. And she is briefly afraid that all her secrets have already been laid bare. "He told me you were his roommate."

"Ah." A safe descriptor. She'd been expecting a cover story like being his live-in girlfriend. She'd even prepared the lines and a backstory. It's a small a comfort that doesn't have to go through that.

Saphron pouts for a moment before her eyes turn devilish. "He also mentioned that you two share a bed and make out." Yang blinks at her. Her confusion also confuses Saphron. Isn't that supposed to be embarrassing? "Is… was he wrong?"

"Uh… no. That's exactly it. I guess I just wasn't expecting the truth."

"And you really aren't sleeping together?" Saphron peels the gown off her shoulder and tugs at the bra strap. Yang yelps when it snaps back into place. "With an outfit like this?"

"It was a lapse in judgement." She gestures to herself. "I swear this isn't how I normally am. I don't think I'll ever put on something like this ever again."

"Hm… a honeymoon might change your mind, but let's not dwell on that. You've got scented candles in the corner and I can smell…" – she sniffs the air – "burnt wood from the bathroom? What led to all this?"

"I'm… not sure I should say."

Saphron takes Yang's hands in hers. "You don't have to tell me, but it feels like you're struggling with something all on your own."

"I'm not, actually," she admits sheepishly. "I just didn't take anyone's advice. I don't like the idea of waiting for something to happen when I can already do something about it."

"There is value in patience."

"I don't think waiting is my problem. I think I'm just too proactive to do nothing."

"My brother leave you hanging or something?"

"Kind of? … I've said too much already."

"Or not enough." She smiles in that way again. As if knowing. "But I won't pry. I know that sometimes it's better to wait and come to your own conclusions. Right or wrong, a decision you make yourself stays with you and sometimes that's more valuable than being handed the keys to the castle."

"You really think highly of Jaune, don't you?"

"Hm? What makes you say that?"

"I've never heard someone describe the way to someone's heart as 'keys to a castle'."

Saphron gives her a catty cheek. "Oh, so you are in love with him." But she is surprised again when Yang doesn't blush.

She shrugs instead, looking away. Not out of embarrassment but to eye her own fragmentary reflection on the corner of the vanity's mirror. "I wouldn't know. I've never been in love before."

"But… you're so pretty."

"So is Jaune. So is my sister. And all but one of my roommates have never even kissed anyone before coming to Beacon. It isn't like we don't have time to fall in love, it's just not always our biggest concern. They drill it in you early that staying alive out there should be your priority." She eyes the bra strap on her shoulder in the mirror, hates what it represents, what it almost made her do. She pulls up the sleeve again, hiding it away, and she almost looks like herself. "I think that's why I like being around him. He doesn't pass judgement on whether not my problems are big or small. He just knows they're important to me and lets me be heard."

"Is being a good listener what you look for in a partner?"

"It might." She laughs. "It's hardly an extensive list, though, isn't it?"

Saphron huffs, settling herself comfortably beside her and dusting off her skirt. "Lists are overrated. Not that you shouldn't have standards, but if you want to extensively checklist every potential partner, you'll end up with a growing criteria less and less people will be able to fill. And trust me, I've lived a storied life – been dating people since I was fifteen – and I've found that it's easier to talk to people and let things click. Hell, I wasn't even trying to flirt with Terra when we first met. She was the wingwoman to the girl I was actually trying to get with and we just happened to get along better."

"Sounds like quite the story."

"Why don't I tell you over dinner? It'd be a nice little preamble to me and Terra. I suspect we'll be meeting quite often in the near future."

"I guess I will be tagging along with Jaune if you really want me to."

"If I really want you to? You sound a little meek there," Saphron teases. "Jaune described you as the kind of girl with confidence to rival a peacock. Was my brother wrong or are you just starting to sound like him?"

"Hey, I don't…! Oh shit, you're right."

"Fair tradeoff, I suppose. Jaune's got peacock confidence now and I guess you're to blame."

"Ha! No, I can't take credit for that. Pyrrha – his ex – I'm sure she's your culprit."

"We've met. Jaune brought her over last year before they started dating. Wasn't even going to take her to the dance, the little dunce."

"Oh, but they hooked up that night! After they both showed up stag and he tore up the dance floor in a dress."

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screamed, her eyes lighting up with mischief Yang realizes she's just armed her with.

A knock at the door. "Everything alright in there?" Jaune asks, muffled through the mahogany.

"We're fine!" Yang says.

"Peachy, little brother," Saphron adds with a flare of sarcasm, "but you're going to regret keeping secrets from me."

"Yang!" Jaune screeches, panicked. "What did you tell her?"

Yang laughs, hearty and comfortable with Saphron snickering beside her. It almost feels right, like it's something that always should have been, and she wonders why she was ever so afraid. "What you should have told her! You know you can't keep secrets from big sisters!"

"Oh really? I can promise you that there are secrets Ruby hasn't told you."

Yang shot up from her seat. "What!?"

Saphron sits back. "Aren't you two lively…" she whispers.

"I'm no snitch, Xiao Long!" Jaune shouts, snark clear in his voice.

"You'll fess up one way or another!" Yang, in her excitement, marches to the door.

Saphron bolts out of her place and grabs her arm. "You're still underdressed," she says calmly, belying the panic quickened in her chest.

Yang looks down at herself. She's showing a little cleavage too with the loosened bath robe. She takes an extra step back for good measure and clutches the lapels closed.

"C'mon. You're looking a little too comfortable now. Let's find you something modest." Saphron tugs her towards the closet.

"Backing down already?" Jaune said in what – to him – was a moment of silence.

"I'll get you yet, Vomit Boy!" Yang jeers.

Saphron perks up. "Vomit Boy?"

Jaune groans behind the door. "Yang!"

Yang, despite the grin tugging at her cheeks, silently promises to make it up to him later.

-0-

Jaune stands in the center of his living room, staring at his shut door. Saphron has just dragged Yang into it, and his mind has been reeling with what he'd seen. Barely dressed, slow music off her scroll, and with smeared makeup on? He doesn't want to come to any conclusions, not without talking to her first, but the obvious ones come to mind.

He isn't certain he can reckon with the inevitable outcome.

Behind him, Terra sensibly cuts off Yang's music playing off her scroll. Jaune nearly jumps when he's brought out of his stupor and into her beautiful, suffocating presence. Terra is still as captivating as he remembers, tinted with the gloss of a boyhood crush that refuses to die. At least with Saphron around he could suffuse it, but not alone in the heavy quiet of his apartment.

Terra gives him a bemused smile. Ever sympathetic. She pats the seat cushion beside her and Jaune joins her, plopping on the cushion with a held breath he eases out of himself.

"You seem surprised," Terra says. "And here I thought you'd already seen her in less."

"I did say we've only made out… and snuggled." He can't decide which one is more scandalous. Perhaps neither. Or both, given that they aren't even dating.

"Yeah, despite that being unusual enough to be true, I still had my doubts."

"Have any still?"

"No. You definitely don't look like the kind of couple that's seen each other naked."

Jaune's eyes narrow. "We're not a couple."

"I believe you," she says with a smile. She's so dangerously close to him that he can smell her perfume. A glance shows him that she's eying him expectantly. He's tense, uncertain, and it's clear that she can see that. She pulls away, giving him room to breathe. "Guessing you've still got a crush on me then?"

His spine gets stiffer, spotting her at the corner of his eye because he refuses to look directly at her. She's smiling still. Being cheeky. "Terra…" he groans.

She scooches a little closer again (taking a chance that his nerves might not erupt), and lets his heat wash over her and lets him feel hers. The affection is platonic, he knows that. He and his sisters huddle together for comfort often, and Terra has just learned to follow suit. But he can't help but revel in it, letting it sink into his pores till it leaves a familiar tingle.

A small part of him hates it but mostly hates himself for indulging.

"If I asked you why, would you tell me?" Her tone is quiet, almost a whisper. She's trying to ease him.

"Because you cared about me."

She chuckles because it's naïve and honest and oh so very like him that it's almost nostalgic. "Was that really all?"

"When you're young and naïve, that's all it takes."

"I didn't know you were lonely."

It was his turn to chuckle. "I wasn't. I was never some lonely little kid who didn't have any friends. I had enough love from my sisters alone to fill my heart a hundred times over."

"Then why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Do I need to have been missing something in my life to want to fall in love?"

Her feet shuffles in place. "I guess I haven't seen it that way. After I was old enough to date, I'd not gone a year without someone I wanted to be with or was already with. I always felt like love completed me, like it does now with Saph… Is that not how you feel?"

"I'm… I'm not saying love doesn't make me happy or anything. It's just that I don't feel like I need it to feel whole. I don't think it'd complete me, just that it might be nice to have too. Is that not how you feel?"

She chuckles again, a nervous uncertainty tinting her quiet, teahouse melody. "I don't know. Never been without it, really. At least not for long."

He looks at her – examines her, really – because her cheek is gone, as is her confidence, and it feels like she's revealing her artifice in a vulnerable moment. She's digging gaps into her own thoughts and he can see her pick apart her own internal logic and she seems more and less somehow. Like she's less the perfect cut gem he thought she was and sees the girl underneath it.

He's less tense all of a sudden.

And for a moment he feels like he can come to grips with everything that she is. Who she was to him, who she wasn't, and who she's become. A boyhood crush, flightful fantasy, and… he can't bring himself to think of the last. Fist clenching and unclenching, a slow motion that tries to hide the trembling in his digits.

He swallows and he worries if she can hear it. She doesn't, but she can see something's troubling him.

"How's Adrian?" he asks.

"Oh, he's –"

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screams from beyond the locked bedroom door.

Jaune jolts up from his seat and nearly bumps into Terra who'd stood along with him. She steps aside and he hurries to the door, asking after them. Terra tries not to pay attention (she can barely hear what they say beyond the door anyhow) but then he mentions Yang's sister, Ruby – the girl Terra thought he actually has a crush on – and Yang audibly shouts, "What!?" passed the door at him.

"Aren't you two lively…" Terra whispers.

-0-

Dinner is a largely pleasant affair until the alcohol gets introduced. The hills of drink they stack onto the table to peruse intimidates Jaune and he cautions that he cannot – will not – drink anything that isn't at least on the rocks. He'll shoulder tomorrow's regret but he doesn't want to sleep through the sun burning through the morning and afternoon.

Saphron and Terra share a glance before pulling something out of Terra's bag. Diadem, a vintage Vacuan drink stronger than everything else on the table. They only ask that he a takes a shot. It'll buzz him through the evening.

It's too strong and he nearly hurls.

Yang half remembers all the stories they tell. Saphron regales them with tales of how she met Terra, the proposal, the wedding, and even the honeymoon off the coast of Menagerie. Jaune spouts on about his team and a misadventure with his twin on an old farm and a horse, and Yang, somehow, talks about a food fight twice. It's funnier the second time around.

There's a gap in her memory of whatever story Terra was telling because she fixates on one part and can't focus on anything else. "…she's little Adrian's babysitter," she mentions briefly but doesn't have the faculties to ask about.

When Saph and Terra leave for their hotel, things wind down and Yang's sitting on the sofa in Jaune's hoodie. Yang returns the shirt and shorts she borrowed but she feels like wearing something that's his might help with tonight.

Jaune joins her, easing down slowly as his head rides the waves of a dying Vacuan storm.

"Who's Adrian?" she asks.

He's quiet for a moment, perhaps from the drink. "He's Terra's son."

Yang can see it. Saphron isn't mentioned deliberately. He doesn't just forget this time. "Oh! From a previous marriage?"

He shakes his head. "No, nothing like that," he says, sobering up.

"A previous partner then?"

Jaune says nothing. He's sitting upright. Rigid and awake. There's something there. Maybe Terra had a previous partner he didn't like, but then things click into place. Realization sets in like headlights through the fog, suddenly and violently.

"Oh my god…" she whispers, "…he's yours."

He doesn't answer. Doesn't need to. She grabs onto his arm and pulls him into a hug. She's hit a nail on the head and panic sets in when she thinks she's opened up an old wound. It's precisely the kind of thing they're supposed to help each other forget. Only, Yang doesn't realize that Jaune is so caught off-guard by her sudden burst of affection that he's at first startled and – when she goes in for a kiss and ends up headbutting him instead – he ends up laughing it off.

His mirth is almost strange until it makes complete sense somehow. She's done her job, kept her end of the bargain, and now she's laughing with him too.

When he's calmed down, he lies back on the sofa when she goes to get a drink. She comes back to find him lying across the sofa and she makes the executive decision to just fall on top of him. She crashes into his stomach with a hefty oof from him and she makes no apologies for retaliating.

"Sofa hog," she jeers from her perch on his chest, chin resting on her arms.

"I bought it," he shoots back playfully, eying her down from the arm rest.

"Still pay half the rent. And I never asked you to pay me back when I foot the bill for refurbishing them."

"Wouldn't have needed to if Zwei didn't tear them up."

"It was a joint decision that we took him in for the week. You're as much to blame."

He sighs. "I guess I am."

It isn't actually an issue. They've basically already had this discussion and Yang had insisted on covering for it at the time. They're only stalling. Even Yang isn't quite sure she wants to go on.

She doesn't know how long it takes her to summon the courage to speak again. All she knows is that he's willing to answer, even if it would be easier for both of them to stay ignorant. To let these problems solve themselves and never to bear your heart until it is absolutely necessary.

But she speaks anyway. "I thought it was the wedding that got to you."

And so does he. "No, it… it just happened at the wedding. Saph had to go talk to an old classmate and so she left Terra with me. I was already holding Adrian and with Joan running off somewhere, we were alone. Just me, Terra… and our son. It hit me then. Slowly, like when you stare at yourself in the mirror at the night of a recital. You think, 'This is it. This is where things fall apart… or meet in the middle.' I knew I had to make peace with it before it got worse."

"And your answer was watered-down whiskey the minute you got back home?"

He shrugs. "Qrow gives good advice."

"Hm… maybe. I still think mine is better."

"Oh? And what's that?"

She pushes herself up over him, arms at either side of his head till her silhouette is against the dim glow of the incandescent bulb, warm light pooling through her hair till it looks like it's on fire. "Get drunk on me," she says, her breath tickling his nose and burning his lips.

But he doesn't kiss her. She sees the way his lips quiver, almost wanting to, but he doesn't even try.

She retreats instead, nestling back onto his chest but his cheeks are still burning and she swears hers are too. The room feels like it's boiling.

"When we kiss, do you think of her?"

"Never," he says honestly, and that seems to be the part that stings the most to him. "That's the most dangerous thing about you. You don't taste, feel, or smell like anyone else." He looks at her and only her, and she shrinks away as she gets up and off of him because she feels like a moon in a sea of stars, and as he straightens up and sits parallel to her, his eyes never leave, like a captive witness.

He leans in, and she doesn't know if it's to kiss her or just her sheer pull on him. She ultimately doesn't decide. Their foreheads meet – her eyes are downward but locked to his lips – and she breathes quietly as she asks, "Jaune? Are you in love with me?"

"Yang, are you even sure you are?"

"I… don't know yet."

He pulls away just an inch as something unsettling furrows his brow.

He gets up. "Gimme a minute," he says, and he's gone for just long enough for her to notice that the familiar heat she had pressed against her is missing.

She doesn't know what to expect when he comes back with his hand clutching a small object, but she would have never guessed a ring. It's nestled in a velvety box that he sits on the coffee table and he leaves it open as he sits down and watches it with her like it's some alien thing. He doesn't speak but he gives her a glance and…

It's then that she realizes that she's afraid. The look on her is uncertain – she can feel it, and she feels it freeze on her features.

"Did you pick this out for me?"

He shakes his head. "It was supposed to be Pyrrha's."

She blinks. "Is… is this what scared Pyrrha off?"

"No… it's what scared me off." He leans back against the sofa and she takes that as an invitation to do the same. They're huddled close, shoulder-to-shoulder. "Our breakup was only supposed to be temporary. Some tournament rival tried to pin her to a scandal when they found out she slept with me."

"What? Why would that be a problem?"

He snorts. "I was too young." Out loud, it sounds absurd.

"You were seventeen," she reasons.

"And Pyrrha was eighteen. As far as the law is concerned, Pyrrha slept with a minor."

Yang can feel herself coil up like a loaded spring. "Well, that's fucked! You're barely three months apart!"

"Didn't matter to them. Tabloids would have pinned it on her for the rest of her career. The context doesn't matter to the public."

"Okay…" she says slowly, stifling her frustrations for later. "So, what changed then? Why did you set her up with Sun?"

"Because I went to the wedding and found myself thinking about Terra again. It gave me some unhealthy doubts. I loved Pyrrha, I really did, but it felt wrong when I danced with Terra that night, holding our son in our arms… It felt like I'd betrayed Pyrrha somehow, even in my own mind, by feeling those things. It didn't matter that I didn't actually do anything about it."

"That's not how feelings work though," she says. "You're supposed to have doubts sometimes because people aren't perfect or consistent. Life isn't fiction, Jaune."

"I know that now." He shrugs, resigned in a way. "I found out a little too late though."

"How did you even get Pyrrha to agree to this?"

"She's not very honest about her feelings. Doesn't have the courage to be. When she heard that I'd pushed Sun to ask her out because Nora can't keep a secret, she thought that I might have given up on her. By the time we got the chance to be honest about it, she'd already gotten to know Sun enough to start taking him seriously."

Yang glances back at the ring. Not quite as alien as it was earlier. It just seems strange now, like it's out of place. There's a small comfort in that. "So where does the ring come in?"

"I got it as a sort of celebration when would get back together, but then people started asking about what it meant and… it felt like I'd stumbled onto some finality between us. Like I'd somehow found 'the one' over a year of friendship, a few dates, and showing up to the dance in a dress."

Yang smiles. Not because he seemed silly at the time, but because he's smiling. Because, in spite of his somber reflections, he can't help but feel like what he'd done turned out to be a triumph.

Her arm loops into his and his head leans on hers in response. "Doesn't sound like a bad set up to me," Yang says, shrugging against his arm. "If anything, it sounds like the stars aligned for you two." She speaks honestly. Forgets herself and sees him as Pyrrha's too-perfect other half to a too-perfect couple. If things hadn't turned out the way they did, she might have cheered them on for the rest of their lives. But that isn't how it turned out.

"That's what everyone was saying. It's like we'd ripped ourselves out of a fairytale, only I was a dense, blind princess and she was some stoic, stubborn prince. But it put a lot of pressure on us, living up to that story, and it felt like I wasn't as ready as I should have been. I came to Beacon unprepared for a lot of things. Might have hurt the people depending on me by not being ready. I was lucky my shield arm was always sturdy, but my heart wasn't. I naively worried that my inexperience would hurt us irreversibly." He rolls a hand over his knuckles. Contemplatively, regretfully. "I thought I was leaving her in good hands, but even if that's true, should I still have stayed instead? Did I have any right to decide if we should have stayed together or not?"

Her fingers slide off his arm and weave into his. She's huddling closer now, feet off the ground and knees tucked up to her chest. "I think, when we fall in love, we have to decide for ourselves if we want to keep going. We don't choose for the other in that. We choose for ourselves cause we are who we're supposed to look out for. You have to protect yourself first." Yang clutches tighter, and somehow Jaune can tell that her mother is involved. "That's the beautiful thing about a love that works. We decide for ourselves and it all just happens to fall into place with someone else. It doesn't always magically align – sometimes you don't agree with what they want or how they take it – but real love compromises just as much as it just… clicks." Like her and her dad. And Ruby. And maybe – if things turn out alright – her mom.

He wants to believe her. Even if he and Pyrrha didn't pan out, they still love each other as friends and things ultimately haven't changed between them. They were always bound to work out their issues and it's clear now that they've compromised without needing to sacrifice the friendship they'd fostered together.

He wants to thank her, but her eyes are away and she's chewing her lip. Yang is thinking of something else. Her sigh cuts through the silence and she's too shy to look at him.

"Jaune, why did you kiss me?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Last night. In bed. While I was sleeping."

His eyes widen. He's been caught. "Is it really so unusual?"

"It is when you aren't thinking of Terra or Adrian. When you do it just because you wanted to."

"How… how could you tell?"

She can hear the panic in his voice. Caught and cornered, it makes her a little happy to know he's unable to hide it. But it's the speed of which he accepts his fate that gets her grinning, because it's as if a part of him is tired of hiding it. "Because you weren't trying to forget something. You weren't trying to tease me and I certainly can't flirt back when I'm asleep…" She shoots him a knowing look and he gulps through a feeble foundation of defiance. "It was none of that. You did it hoping I wouldn't notice. You did it because you were hiding something you wanted."

He crumbles under her teasing. "Y-Yang, I… I can't –"

"Shh, it's okay," she says evenly, defusing his tension and giving him a moment to breathe and look into her eyes. "Don't jump to a conclusion you aren't ready to make." Her tone is slow and deliberate, fingers gliding along the skin of his arm like a soothing, gentle caress. "I get it, Jaune. Like me, you're still trying to figure it out."

He pulls away but fixes her with a stern, serious look. She doesn't realize he's holding her hand till he's squeezing it. He's composed, certain, and so deftly drunk on her that Yang remembers Jaune telling her that drowning in drink gives him clarity. "That's just it, Yang. I know I feel something. I've been feeling a lot of things when I'm with you…" His confidence wanes before he admits that, "It's just that I haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do about it."

Yang blinks twice and tries to speak but can't. And suddenly she can't stop the curl of her cheeks when she feels a growing smile coming.

He's almost afraid. "Yang?"

"Sorry. I'm still… you know you just confessed, right?"

"Ha!" he laughs, heart squeezing his chest. Relief in many ways settling into his skin. "Were you expecting me to say 'I love you'?"

"…"

He chuckles. "Oh my god, Yang."

"Is it weird that I'm a little giddy about that total cliché? Say it again."

He thinks it a little much but the words are easy, flowing freely from his lips. "I love you."

"Agh! You're a serious cheat. Why is it so easy for you to say?'

"Cause I already made peace with it. You stood there in a white dress and I could see you tearing Terra out of that place in my mind and putting yourself there in her stead. I already knew. You've been nothing but a tidal wave to my emotions, just swallowing everything up and leaving little traces of yourself everywhere."

He settles back into the cushions, sinking comfortably into it. "I used to sit on this couch and scream curses at the moon through the window," he says. "Nowadays my eyes are glued to the screen watching a movie with you. I used to be careful about what I threw into the sink because I was afraid I'd have to call in a mechanic to fix the shredder again, and now I don't even give it a second thought."

"And you used to lie in bed thinking about her…" Yang teases.

"Actually, no. I was at peace when I went to bed. Pyrrha trained me to shut down once I got under the sheets. Nowadays it feels like the sandman keeps missing my eyes with the way you move me around in bed."

"I don't think your tongue's been doing much complaining."

"Seems you were willing to use more than just your tongue earlier," he says, teasing her. She shrinks a little, embarrassed. "What were you doing anyway?"

"I was, uh, trying to seduce you."

"Oh… What changed?"

She groans. "I guess my wires got crossed. I thought that if I got you to sleep with me, this" – she gestures between them – "would suddenly clear up. But I'm not that kind of girl. I don't put on lingerie all the time expecting you to see it. Not even sure I'm the kind of girl who wants her clothes ripped off when I get you riled up."

"Yeah, your outfits look expensive. Custom fit and embroidered."

"I wouldn't hit you if you tried, FYI. I'd maybe cry or get upset."

"I'll try not to ravage you through your clothes if that ever happens."

"If? Still don't think we're gonna end up doing the dirty tango after all we've been through? Seems inevitable at this point."

"I think we'll either do it when it makes sense or decide we aren't meant for each other."

"I don't know. I'm pretty snug right where I am." She gives him cheek, brimming with certainty. Confidence. "Still," she says more seriously, "are you really so ready to give up what we have? I don't see it happening, but it looks like you think we're just as likely to stay together as splitting up."

He looks away. Yang is surprised to find him embarrassed, not concerned.

"You don't actually feel that way," Yang says gleefully. "You're as sure as I am."

"I'm not ready to take that risk just yet," he confesses.

She moves to straddle him and loops her arms around his neck. "I can wait."

His hands grip her waist through the thickness of the hoodie. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. I told you that love was about deciding for yourself and settling into compromises if our choices don't align. I'm choosing to stay. And – I hope – we agree to compromise."

He takes a moment to look away before locking eyes with her. He leans in and pecks her lips so briefly that she doesn't get the chance to kiss back.

"Wh-what?"

"It's how I'm supposed to say yes, aren't I?"

She laughs and so does he. Yang was expecting to cap off the night with a kiss, pressing bodily into the sheets as their hands roam their bodies, but none of that happens. They clean the dinner the table, take separate baths, and settle into bed together.

She does kiss him on the neck for good measure but he realizes that he can still feel the kiss and it isn't because there's a tingle there. Cracking an eye open, he notices the gloss on her lips. "Are you wearing lipstick?"

"The light kind," she says. "Told myself I'd leave a mark on you during my little lapse earlier. I've decided not to give you a hickey. Consider it an act of mercy."

He shuts his eyes and tries to ignore it but can't. He's painfully aware of it and he just knows he's gonna smudge that on something. It'd be funny if it's Yang's face but he'd hate to get it on his sheets. He sits up. "Yeah, nope. I'm washing this off."

"What? C'mon!" She grabs onto him, anchoring him back into bed.

"Nope. Not doing it," he says defiantly.

"Have it your way, Arc. Hickey it is!"

"Wait, Yang! Yang!"

-0-

Jaune is reminded everyday that he showed up to brunch that following morning with a hickey his scarf couldn't hide. Yang makes it up to him by buying dessert.

The get-togethers go on and Yang is less and less embarrassed about openly teasing Jaune and showing her affections publicly. Jaune retaliates, of course, and they even get hot and bothered in the hallway of a movie theater. They spend the rest of the movie in a stall. Terra finds them and is honestly just surprised they haven't taken each other's clothes off… ever.

Jaune and Yang don't tell them that neither of them and ready to go that far yet. Jaune takes the brunt of the blame and says that if he doesn't hold back, they'll end up doing something stupid. Saphron slips Jaune a condom and he regrets everything for the rest of the night.

Two weeks pass with much the same. Sometimes they introduce Saphron and Terra to some of their other friends, and they even manage a weekend together in a cottage near the coast. They're excited about reuniting with Pyrrha and they even meet Sun on her scroll.

Yang finds out that Saphron is every bit a mother as she is a big sister, and Jaune reminds her that she is practically no different herself.

Jaune learns that Qrow and Terra are old classmates and that they had more in common than they thought.

And after Joan is caught scheming with Nora and getting her and Ren back together, after Blake engorges the shrimp platter on a Schnee-sponsored dinner, after Weiss tames a friendly rivalry between Winter and Saphron about who has the cuter sibling, after Ruby gets her cheeks pinched till they go red cause she lost a bet and showed up in an adorable beowulf costume, and after Penny freaks out and her head pops off at dinner (her severed head still tries to chew on a salad)… their two weeks together are up and they're standing at the train station, ready to see them off.

It's been raining for the last few days and everything is damp and cold. Even the air is still thick with the smell of misty rain water and the sky hasn't seen the sun even peek through the cloud cover. It's almost a somber way to say goodbye.

Saphron is introducing Yang to her babysitter and little Adrian over a video call. Jaune stands aside, unwilling to let the last few weeks burn away at the sight of his biological son gurgling through the screen.

Terra nudges into his side. "Can we talk?"

He nods and she pulls them away beside a pillar. Saphron notices and winks at her wife.

"Is there something wrong?" Jaune asks.

"Nothing, actually. I might even say our impromptu vacation here might as well have been perfect."

"Impromptu?"

"I guess it never came up but… we were only supposed to be here for a few days."

"Why did you stick around then? Wouldn't that have been imposing on your babysitter?"

"Oh, Taffy was plenty happy to be at the house with Adrian. She's an orphan and she takes every excuse to come over." She leans in to whisper. "We might even adopt her once I get a raise at the office so look forward to a niece! And, really, is it such a surprise that we enjoy spending time with you and your friends?"

"After the bonfire? I guess not."

"Good. Now that isn't why I needed to talk."

"Oh…" He glances at Yang a few feet away. He can barely hear her and Saphron through the rancor of the station.

"I know you've been holding back."

"Did Yang tell you that?"

"Call it a big sister's intuition."

"You're an only child."

"Not anymore, I'm not. Now I've got six little sisters and a not-so-little brother." She pats his chest then busies her hands with straightening his collar. "A little brother who is too afraid to take a chance and would much rather play it safe than play at all."

"Terra…"

"I know you're afraid that you aren't ready. I wasn't either. Hell, sometimes I worry I'll mess up and ruin a perfectly good marriage. These are all normal things to be afraid of, and for some people, these fears don't go away. We just learn to live with them."

She slides her hands to his arms and down to fingers till she's holding them softly and looking up at him. There's a quiet concern in her sad little smile that he isn't sure how to respond to.

"I think you've driven yourself to be so careful with your feelings that you've forgotten to just take things as they come," she says. "I know you have to be careful with your heart but the thing isn't made of glass. Even if it hurts, even if it hurts easily, the fact that you're still in one piece should be more than enough proof that you aren't as fragile as you think you are. Maybe take a risk. Maybe love will hurt, but so few of us get better at it without giving it a shot first. Like a lot of things, Jaune, it takes a lot of trial and error."

"I've been down this road before already…"

She squeezes his hands. "And you'll go down it again and again. Sometimes people find love once and that's all it takes. But for the rest of us? For most of us? We gotta keep trying."

With a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'good luck', Saphron and Terra disappear into accelerating train until even it vanishes into the horizon.

Jaune stares into the middle distance and Yang, much like Terra, nudges into his side. "What did you talk about?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Stuff."

"Oh, well that's lame. Should've had more to say to someone you really care about." It's clear she doesn't buy it.

He knows she doesn't. "Yeah, real shame I wasn't more profound and emotional."

She rolls her eyes because she'll let it be and won't pry for his sake. "C'mon, it's getting chilly out here and it might rain again with the wind picking up." She makes to walk off.

"Hey, Yang?"

She stops. "Yeah?"

For a moment he doesn't speak, his eyes are uncertain and elsewhere but then his fists clench as if he's just convinced himself to do something. "Wanna get dinner?" he asks, reaching out to take her by the hand. "We can put on something nice and there's a real fancy place with the best lobster in town."

Yang isn't sure how to take it. She doesn't resist when his thumb brushes over her knuckles, but she summons a bit of bravery herself, stepping closer and resting a fist against her beating chest. "Is… this a date?"

She yelps when he pulls her in. He kisses her, drowns her tongue and melts their bodies together till she's flush against him and tugging at his hair. There's still fear in his eyes when they pull away, but there's a determination in there she's happy to see. "Is that answer enough?"

She giggles through the haze of her burning cheeks. "Plenty."

Then she's on him this time and tilting him backwards with her lips alone until he's just as hazy. Still, he doesn't expect it when she clambers onto his back and slips into a piggyback ride before she starts laughing uncontrollably.

"Hiya, noble steed! To the bike!" she cheers from her perch atop his head.

He's laughing too, even if he's huffing a little from the jog to Bumblebee. "What's gotten into you?"

"I can't help it…" she whispers into his hair, excitement mixing into a bubbling cocktail with a giddiness she can't stop. "I'm happy."

#Jaune Arc #yang xiao long #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #rwby dragonslayer

50 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Text

Diary of the Writing Raven; Birds of a Feather

For the 1100+ follower milestone, here is the next part of the cursed raven’s story!

This time, we revisit entries in Miss Raven’s diary. A familiar face assumes prominence on the stage--what role will he play in this story of ours?

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4

Day 47

I feel like I am being watched.

Uncle says I am just nervous and excited from the ceremony yesterday.

I am not so sure.

Day 48

I ran into that weirdo again today.

The weirdo is named Rook Hunt. He also calls himself the Hunter of Love...? I do not understand what that means.

He said that he will not be fooled again by Mon-sure Mastermind’s tricks again. He said he knows I am a bird, and he will chase me to the ends of Twisted Wonderland to see me in flight.

...Scary.

He shouts many strange words and chases me around. I managed to narrowly miss him by diving into the bushes. He was distracted by some students with animal ears--and I was able to run all the way home safely.

I suppose it is good to be curious, but...Mister Rook is too curious...!!

Why couldn’t I have run into Mister Jade instead?

Day 51

Uwaaah, I saw a very pretty upperclassman today! He had golden hair, violet at the ends.

The pretty upperclassman snapped at Mister Rook and told him to stop scaring me.

I am thankful, but...it seems like that upperclassman was scanning me all over. Judging me silently. I wanted to disappear into my clothes.

Before we part, he tells me that my ponytails are not symmetrical. He adjusts it for me and sends me off.

Mister Rook’s friends are strange people, too.

Day 56

Another run-in with Mister Rook. They seem to happen every day now, though they are not always...eventful.

He says I am too formal, and that I can just call him “Rook”.

He would not stop pestering me until I agreed.

He gave me a toothy grin when I, at last, relented.

What a troublesome man.

Day 57

Ever since I tried Flounder’s Blue, I have been sampling new foods and drinks.

Today, I got a cup of caw-fee.

Silly me, though...I tripped and spilled it all over a Savanaclaw student. He was so angry. He threatened to gobble me up.

I was trembling and sobbing when the Savanaclaw student yelped. Rook had a tight grip on his trail and kept tugging it, saying weird things until he scurried off.

I thank him.

Day 60

It feels like I see Rook around every corner. He does not always approach--sometimes, he is just content with watching from a distance, or he gives a small wave.

Jade has noticed too.

He asks if Rook makes me feel unsafe..

Rather than feel unsafe, I am a little curious as to why Rook is...well, Rook. He is certainly an odd fellow, but when I think back to a few days ago, I can’t help but think he has a good heart.

I do not think he means any harm.

So I tell Jade I am fine.

Day 66

Rook smelled funny today.

He says there was an accident in the Science Club, so he will reek of tomato and basil for a few days. That hunting trip he was planning is cancelled; the smell will alert too many animals of his presence.

I tell him that he reminds me of the pasta served at the Mostro Lounge, and he laughs.

How he is able to stay so cheery is a wonder to me--but it is not a bad thing, I suppose.

Day 72

Rook tells me of a carny-vale in the nearby town, and says I must experience it for myself. I was curious, so I followed.

There are so many bright sounds and sights. It smells like something fried and sweet.

We ride the spinning tea cups and the carousel. They make me feel like I’m flying once more.

I’m no good at any of the game booths, but Rook is. He has impeccable aim and strength. The game booth runners cry and beg him to not run them out of business.

Rook just smiles and asks them for their best prizes. He has no use for most of them, so he dumps his prizes onto me with a part on the head.

My arms are too full to hold any food, so Rook helps feed me. He stuffs funnel cake, cotton candy, and candied apple into my mouth.

The last thing we do for the day is the ferris wheel. We go up and up against the sunset.

In the dying light of day, I realize something.

Rook has very pretty eyes, too.

Day 80

The pretty upperclassman came up and introduced himself.

Vil Schoenheit, Pomefiore’s dorm leader.

The queen.

He remarks that my pigtails are not asymmetrical today, and that I am a fast learner.

“You must be, little Shetland potato,” Vil comments, “if you are to deal with my huntsman.”

Day 84

...Rook was carrying a Pomefiore boy over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes.

He says that it’s his job to capture runaways, in service of his queen.

...I wonder how much he gets paid to do this?

Day 85

I told Rook about my hiking trip with Jade!

He seemed very interested, listening intently and nodding while I spoke.

Rook says that he, too, is a fan of the great outdoors, and that we should go on a camping trip together sometime.

I look forward to it.

Day 90

Today is the promised camping trip with Rook.

The weather is getting chillier, so he reminds me to dress warm. He will take care of the rest of the preparations. After all, he has had much more experience with these sorts of things.

I’m still cold, even when I show up in three layers. Rook tuts and throws his jacket over me, despite my protests.

He guides me through the forest, pointing out tiny things I would not have noticed on my own. That bunny’s burrow, those squirrels storing nuts for the upcoming winter, the rustle of the leaves, the trickle of water, how the sunlight filters through the trees...

Rook has such a poetic way of speaking.

He reminds me of a prince in a fairy tale.

Day 94

Rook told me that he has noticed that my speech has improved. He is proud, puffing up like a proud father. He spouts some nonsense about how “mon petit oiseau” (he helped me with the spelling) is becoming such a refined young lady.

I told him that his own manner of speech is far prettier than mine.

Rook just laughed and offered to help me improve more and more, if I wish.

I should pay a visit to Pomefiore, he said, and the queen will welcome me with open arms.

Day 95

Pomefiore is...beautiful. Violet tapestries, crimson curtains, and gold decorations dripping from every available crevice. And everyone is just as beautiful as their surroundings, skin like glass and eyes set in jewel-colored shadows.

I expected nothing less of the oldest dormitory at Night Raven College. The castle is steeped in years of history.

I was offered tea and a three tiered stand of snacks. Vil introduced me to a boy named Epel, who squirmed in his seat with discomfort.

He made us hold our tea cups all funny and barked at us to exchange words. Rook stands at his queen’s side and just...smiles at us as we suffer.

After that, Vil shepherded us to a large table, where two sets of cutlery were laid out.

I’m drilled for hours on end, until I can differentiate the several different variants of spoons, forks, and knives. Epel, too.

I am told to return every few days, to join Epel for his lessons. “It would do him some good to have someone to go through the motions with,” Vil insists. “It gives him some much needed...’encouragement’.”

More lessons for me.

...Somehow, I feel like Rook has me caught in a snare.

Day 100

Vil quips that we are learning ballroom dancing today.

I do not see the practical use of such a skill, but he will not take no for an answer.

Epel and I mutter apologies as we link hands and step on each other’s feet. Then the queen has us take turns spinning around with Rook.

He is very graceful on his feet--far more than myself or Epel. I’m nervous when my turn comes up, but Rook reassures me that it will be fine.

His arms form a cage to keep me from stumbling.

He clicks his tongue and says I need more practice.

Day 102

We focused on the arts today. Vil was busy with modeling (?) and told us that Rook would be our instructor. He says that the arts are his best subject, so please leave everything to him.

Rook shows us fruit bowls and pictures of scenery (he says he took the photographs himself)! Then he sets out canvases and paint sets and tells us to follow his lead.

His voice is a soft murmur as he beats his paintbrush against a blank canvas, breathing color into an otherwise lifeless world.

I do my best to do as he says.

Rook glances over--and he tells me, through a blinding smile, that my painting needs some work.

I have to agree.

Day 110

Epel is with friends today.

Rook takes this opportunity to grant me a language and writing lesson. He knows that I like writing, so now is as good of a time as any.

Rook hovers over me at a desk and suggests ways to make my writing sound...fancier.

I practice writing sentences like...

You are the light of my life, the lark’s birdsong in the still morning.

You are as lovely as the petals of a rose, lush and delicate and breathtakingly beautiful.

You are the moon and the starlight, twinkling in the depths of the darkness and guiding me to salvation.

I ask him what the point of these phrases were--and Rook answers, “For when you wish to woo whomever has captured your heart!” He makes it sound so easy.

He teaches me a few basic phrases of his flowery language, too.

I tell him merci.

Day 117

The queen puts books on my head and tells me to walk without dropping any of them.

Rook holds my hand and helps me keep balance.

It is warm, and comforting and supportive, just like Jade’s.

Then Vil whips out a pair of odd shoes, with stick-like things instead of a flat sole. He calls them heels and urges me to put them on.

I fall on my face, and Rook has to help me up.

On my second attempt, he catches me. He tells me I have the grace of a newborn fawn--that is to say, none at all.

Still, I feel safe in his arms.

Day 133

It is cold, and snowy.

Rook drags me outside anyway. He says exercise will do my frail little body some good.

But...no matter what I activity I do, I am miserable at it. Snowshoeing, ice skating, sledding. I am horrible at all of them, and more.

We settle for building a snowman.

I try to make it look cute.

Day 140

The cruise ship is boring. The beach is boring. It’s mostly older folks like Uncle sipping on tropical drinks and sunbathing.

I wish I had someone to talk to.

Of course, Jade would be nice and set my heart at ease...but Rook would be able to make even something as mundane as this fun.

I can already hear him shouting in my head about the clear blue waters, and the amber sunlight, and the snow white sand.

Look at me, I’m beginning to speak nonsense.

Well, nonsense it may be, but it is interesting nevertheless.

Rook is...interesting.

Day 149

There are lots of seagulls here.

...They remind me of Rook.

I am not quite sure why.

Maybe it is the incessant cawing.

Though...that is charming, in its own unique way.

Day 155

Rook brought back a souvenir from his home land--a bright blue feather on a beaded necklace. He says it is similar to the one the young prince of his country wears.

It turns out, he is from the Afterglow Savannah! What a surprise; I thought he would be from the Land of Pyroxene.

He regales me with stories of his adventures, of the many hunts he embarked on and his trophies.

His eyes are like emeralds, shining with excitement.

Day 167

I saw a play with Rook.

It told the story of two lovers whose families detested one another. The actors all speak quite frivolously, just like Rook. I can see why he would like this kind of thing.

My favorite part...it was the balcony scene.

The male lead cannot stand to be apart from the female lead, and so he sneaks into her garden at night. He summons her to the balcony and makes a vow that he will, no matter what, find a way to be with her.

...The play ends with death.

I cried a little, and Rook let me lean against his shoulder until I stopped.

Day 170

I penned a little story based on the play.

This one has a happy ending.

I want to put some hope into the world.

Day 185 (Continued)

I asked Rook if he was excited for Valentine’s Day, if he was expecting any gifts.

He gave me a mysterious smile in response and said, “Ah, that is for me to know and for you to find out, mon petit oiseau.”

I wonder what he means by that.

Day 186 (Continued)

I will give Rook some chocolate, too!

As thanks for being my friend.

Day 197 (Continued)

I made little heart-shaped bon-bons for Rook.

Perfect for the Hunter of Love.

Day 198 (Continued)

I want to curl up and die, diary.

Rook saw me crying today, under the shade of the great apple tree that towers in the school courtyard.

He asked me what was wrong, a concerned look on his face.

I snapped at him, told him to leave me be.

...But rather than bombard me with questions or annoy me with overly embellished words...

...Rook sat next to me silently. He held my hand until I stopped crying.

Then I spilled everything. I don’t know why I did. I...I guess I wanted someone to know of my story.

Starting with my arrival at Night Raven College. Ending with Jade’s betrayal.

I told Rook the tale through my tears and disgusting sobbing. It was absolutely pathetic, but...he listened patiently.

When I finished, he told me something.

“Mon petit oiseau, I would never lie to you.”

And I believe him.

Day 200

I cried again.

Stupid Leeches.

Day 202

I am scared of Jade.

I say as much to Rook.

He makes a joke about sharpening a harpoon and going eel hunting.

...At least, I think it is a joke.

Day 215

Rook now greets me as soon as my classes let out. His smile and laugh are reassuring to see.

He makes sure I get home safely, and without being accosted.

I cannot say merci enough.

Day 227

...It is ironic.

The man I once ran from is now the one I willingly go to for shelter, and the man I once went to for shelter is now the one I run from.

What a strange reversal of fortune.

Day 228

I feel eyes on me again.

...Leeches, most likely.

Day 230

Tomorrow is another day.

I will stay at Rook’s side.

It is the only place I feel safe beyond Uncle’s attic.

Day 231

I can trust him.

I can trust Rook.

He will tell an ugly truth right off the bat.

He values honesty, integrity--like me.

And birds of a feather must flock together.

#Rook Hunt #Jade Leech #Dire Crowley #Epel Felmier #Vil Schoenheit #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #angst #PLEASE STOP READING A PERSON'S DIARY #Tale of the Cursed Raven #Raven Crowley #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc

209 notes · View notes

epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 4 years

Text

Cardigan | Jon Snow

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

Genre: Angst with fluff at the end

Warnings: —

Words: ~3k

Prompt: Based on Cardigan by Taylor Swift. I’m not sure if that translates, but it’s all I listened to when writing this so there’s that.

Note: Want to be tagged in my future works when I post?? Link is in my Bio! ♡ Also, I like -- love Jon a lot...?? And I want more content, so feel free to request more Jon content.

Winterfell was always unbearably cold, something you never got used to, despite living in the North your whole life. But despite the biting cold that left you feeling like you were seconds away from frostbite and minutes away from turning in a statue of ice, you loved it. You were enraptured by snowflakes that lazily glided down the sky, nearly iridescent when the faint rays of the sun would hit them. They’d land in your hands, melting within an instant, turning to small water droplets that would slip through your fingers. Your dark hair was a startling contrast to the white blanket surrounding you, your pale skin glowing in the light, making you look otherworldly.

As a child you’d run through it, as wild as the direwolves north of The Wall, running through fields covered in ice, no rhyme or reason. A ferocious yell leaving your mouth just because you felt like it, not restrained by the obsession of being civil and proper. But you were older now, no longer that wide eyed naive girl, instead of running freely, you kept it hidden deep inside you, only visible in a glint in your eyes.

You still often find yourself as far from Winter Town as you could, hiding away in the depths of the Godswood. However, instead of chasing imaginary battles against dragons, you chased shadows that were just as distant as your dreams. Their hair so dark it could be mistaken for black, but you’ve seen the sunlight hit it just right, exposing the soft and wild curls as a dark brown. Deep brown eyes bore into your soul, seeing right through every layer that surrounded you and hid your true feelings and ambitions. And his voice was deep, the Northern brogue only enhancing how hoarse it could sound, and sometimes when he spoke, you swore your whole body would tremble. He’d deny it over and over again, but standing in the Godswood, the crimson red leaves dancing around him and crowned by snowflakes, he looked beautiful.

Some days you danced around each other, mimicking the movements of the Lords and Ladies in lavish balls neither of you would ever be let into. You moved towards him and he took two steps back, making declarations about how unhappy you’d be with him, how he’d never give you what you needed. But by the end of the night, when the sun was completely gone, the woods around you plunged into darkness, he’d crack. He’d stop fighting, if only for a moment, and allow himself to drown in you. He’d pull you so close to him that two blended into one. Your lips would meet in soft and slow kisses, stars clouding your eyes. And when you burned from the cold, ice numbing your whole body, he’d pull you even closer, if that was possible, lighting you on fire with a single smile.

And it was nice, sneaking away from your parents and all the noise that surrounded you. Every stolen moment with Jon was built under a delusion that the outside world wasn’t real, an illusion that one day you could be more than an illicit affair. And each time you met, you told yourself that it was the last time, but you lied. Despite knowing everything the two of you built; every quiet moment under the stars, each second tucked away in the Godswood, and every secret glance would crumble until it was nothing but a ruin.

Even with that knowledge, the day you watched Jon leave for The Night’s Watch stung more than ice ever could, burnt you more than dragon fire would have. And as you stood hidden away, watching him with tears threatening to pour down your face, you swore your chest was hollow. He gave you one last look, filled with longing, sorrow, and all sorts of other emotions. You wanted to be furious at him, scream and yell until everyone knew that he was leaving you behind. But you couldn’t. You’d seen the sad look in his eyes, the scars covering his body from the mental and emotional lashing Lady Catelyn gave him with just a glance. How beat down he really was, truly believing he couldn’t be anything more than a bastard. And despite how many times you drew stars around his scars, no matter how permanent the ink was, nor how many you drew, they would bleed again the second you two departed.

So instead of making a scene, you just smiled sadly, wiping away any stray tears as you waved him farewell. To this day, your mother still doesn’t know why you cried so much that day.

Shortly after Jon left, Lord Stark was imprisoned in King’s Landing, accused of committing treason against Joffrey Baratheon. And before you could register what happened, Robb Stark became King of the North and marched off to war. Then Theon came back, declaring that Winterfell belonged to the Iron Islands, forcing Bran and Rickon out of Winterfell. And you wanted to go with if only to keep them safe for Jon, but they didn’t even know who you were. And each day, you regret your decision to stay when the news that Theon killed the Stark boys reached you. Your parents were horrified, your brothers and sisters mortified, and you soaked your pillow in tears that night, knowing the news would reach Castle Black and Jon would be devastated.

But then worst of all was when the Bolton’s came to Winterfell after murdering Robb Stark, Catelyn Stark, and any remaining Stark soldiers at The Red Wedding. They swept into the hold as if it was always House Bolton’s, quickly getting rid of any signs the wolves ever lived there. Statues were torn down, flags burned, and anything with a wolf destroyed. Then came Little Finger with Sansa Stark, marrying her off to Ramsey Bolton, who proved to be worse than his father in every way possible. And every time you saw the fear and desolation in her once sparkling blue eyes, you died a little on the inside. You wanted to help, but what could you do. So you just watched, millions of words caught in your throat.

But then the dark storm that drenched you in heavy rains that nearly swept you away, bringing lightning that nearly stuck you and thunder that frightened away all your sanity suddenly cleared. Warm and bright daylight washed over you, as bright and powerful as a Dornish sun. The sun burned out any signs of rain every being there, the intense heat drying out the water left behind. Suddenly the leaves grew back, more vibrant than ever, and wildflowers in every shade possible blossomed overnight.

Jon came back.

He came back with an army to reclaim Winterfell and the North for House Stark. And he won. Miraculously beating back Ramsay Bolton’s army with the help of the Knights of the Vale brought by Sansa after she escapes from Winterfell. After the battle was won and the dead collected to be buried or burned, the Lords and Ladies of the North gathered with the Wildlings that fought for Jon in the Main Hall. You’re not sure what happened, you weren’t allowed in, too busy trying to return to your old normal before you lived every day in fear.

But what you do know is Jon walked in that hall as a bastard and walked out a King.

You should’ve been elated, beaming so brightly you could’ve been mistaken for the sun. But you were petrified, petrified that you’d spent all these years missing Jon, only for him to have moved on. Scared that all those nights you flipped between crying, reminiscing, and cursing his name would’ve been wasted.

So you hid like a coward. You buried yourself in anything you possibly could, taking on any task no matter how big or small. And it worked for a while, the pain in your chest every time you saw his wild hair and deep brown eyes in your mind wasn’t as raw when you were elbow deep in dishes. But late at night, when you had nothing but your thoughts, he was there. Every second you’d lie awake because whenever you’d close your eyes, he was there, haunting you like a phantom.

So here you are now, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots as you approached the clearing in the Godswood. You moved towards the place you avoided for years, looking for the one person you wanted more than anything but could never have. Except maybe now you could. And maybe you were just sleep deprived, delirious in the brain from the lack of sleep, but you wanted nothing more than to see the face that’s haunted you for years, at least one more time. Because even if he sent you away, you could have a new image to see in your dreams.

Standing in the center of the clearing-- your clearing, it brought a twinge of hope, a warm feeling washing over your body as your heart raced, possibilities and what-ifs running through your head. He isn’t the shadow he was all those years ago, both there and not at the same time, no, he’s too real for that now. Standing in the center of the snow filled clearing, surrounded by barren trees and crunchy leaves that are scattered on the ground, he looks too regal to be compared to a shadow. The heavy fur cloak, similar to the one Lord Stark had worn, and Robb after him, looked good on him, framing his broad shoulders and strong posture. And maybe you were biased, but he wore it the best out of all the previous Lords and Kings of Winterfell.

You're at the edge now, unable to move any closer in fear of breaking the spell he cast on you. But then he turned and your eyes met, his gaze like flint, catching you on fire in an instant. His skin was paler than ever, cheeks flushed and rosy from the cold. Long unruly curls have been cut shorter than it had been all those years ago, contained by a small bun near the nape of his neck. He was older, more scars marring his visible flesh, but it was him and he was real.

You stare at him and he looks back, neither of you doing anything else.

And you swear the world paused, time standing still has you tried to comprehend that he was really here, and not a figment of your imagination. He wasn’t a delusion you created to cope with the lowest points of your life.

He was real.

You were running. And so was he. Within a second, you met in the middle, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into him, lifting your smaller form off the ground as he spun you in circles. The heavy cloak was warmer than you’d initially thought, the expensive furs immediately warming up your frozen skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on so tightly because you were afraid he'd slip through your fingers as he did all those years ago. The very tips of your fingers bury themselves into his hair, pulling it free from the leather cord that kept it back. And this moment was better than anything you could’ve envisioned, his smell: leather, sword polish, and something woody, more enthralling than you remembered.

He sets you back on the ground but doesn’t release you from his embrace and you didn’t pull away. A laugh bubbled out of your mouth, it was light and airy and happy, something you hadn’t been for years now. There was a glimmer in your eyes, the same one you’d seen reflected in Jon’s eyes so many times before. Your face hurt from the grin that was on your face the second you met in an embrace and he mirrored you, leaning his head down, resting his forehead against your own.

“You came back to me,” you whispered, moving your hands from his neck to hold his face in yours. As if to further convince yourself that he was here, with you at this moment. Thumbs trace his cheekbones, running over the scar that followed his right cheekbone.

“How could I not?” he replied, his raspy voice low and husky, much older than the boy of seventeen you said goodbye to.

“I hoped you would everyday, but I-- I couldn’t--” your voice trailed off, the words getting caught in your throat.

“But now I’m back.”

“And now you’re back,” you replied, looking up at him with a soft smile. The seconds tick by, silence swallowing you whole as you just bask in his presence, memorizing each new mark on his face.

“I missed you.” Your voice cut through the silence as your eyes grew wet, glistening tears that shined like ice in the sun falling down your face. Jon catches them as they fall, wiping them away with a single swipe of his thumb. And then the small distance that was left between the two of you closed as your lips met. And it was warm and soft and gentle and happy. Everything you missed from your life, returned in a single instant. And it’s like all the sleepless nights, the tear stained pillows, and the fear and horror you’d endured through the years that was muffled by the coming of daylight was completely washed away. The only thing on your mind was Jon and his lips on yours.

He pulled away, but only just enough that the tips of your lips would brush against each other’s and his breath fanned across your face. You kept your eyes closed, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“You were always there with me, gods I could never get you out of my head,” he whispered, brushing his lips lightly against yours. A shiver overcame your body, starting from the very top of your head until it hit down to your toes. A good tingly sensation that disappeared with him, but also returned with him.

“Glad to know it wasn’t just me, Snow.” You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss. It was like drinking a sweet berry wine the Southerners were so fond of or having a sweet tart that you stole from the kitchen. The sensation was addicting. The world could crumble around you; Cersei Lannister could march her whole army on Winterfell and Daenerys Targaryen could swoop down with her dragons and burn everything to the ground. But it wouldn’t matter, it would never matter to you. Not if you had Jon.

“Marry me,” the words left his mouth nonchalantly like he hadn’t just proposed marriage. Your eyes snapped open, looking at him, shock and excitement mingling in your wide eyes.

“What?” Your voice was shaky and unsure, hiding the pounding of your heart and the nerves in your body.

“Marry me, be my wife, and rule the North with me!” he exclaimed, much more confident in his words as they echoed around you, forever imprinted in the trees in the Godswood. And you couldn’t help but compare him to the old Jon you knew, the one who would never dare utter those words to you. Not that you didn’t want him to.

“You're crazy,” you breathed out, laughter and disbelief lacing each word. And he laughed, it was loud and warm and made your stomach twist in the best ways possible.

“Maybe, but I’m crazy for you. Why should I wait when I’ve loved you since I was a boy who didn’t even know what love was,” he said, weaving his arms around your waist and pulling you as close as physically possible. And the scene was similar to all the previous times you stood in this spot, too intertwined in each other to care about the world. Except this time tragedy didn’t hang over you like a storm, this time there was nothing but bright skies and sunlight.

“Okay,” you whispered against his lips. “I’ll marry you.” A beaming smile overtook your face, banishing any negative emotion that lingered on your face. At that moment, Jon wore if anyone ever asked, he’d say he has been to the South. And it wouldn’t be a lie, because the smile on your face and the vibrancy in your gleaming eyes was brighter than the sun could ever be, warming him to the very core. You leaned forward, sealing your promise with a kiss as you got lost in him, over and over again.

And when I felt like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite.

o0o0o0o

Tags:

@stuckupstucky

#jon snow imagine #jon snow one shot #jon snow x reader #jon snow #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones oneshot #a song of ice and feels

191 notes · View notes

cecilspeaks · 4 years

Text

175 - The October Monologues

[static] [slightly distorted] The trees are dying again. You know it, I know it. The trees know it. They have known it for decades, centuries in some cases. The shiver of cyclic, symbolic death. A rattle in the cold night air. A rustle in the footsteps of a hungry deer. It is October and something is different. It is October and the trees draw the crackling red and orange curtain in the year’s final act. It is October, and so listeners, dear listeners, Night Vale community radio is proud to introduce The October Monologues.

Faceless Old Woman: I am lonely. Oh, I see people. I see lots of people every day. I see you right now. I see you, Caleb, sitting in your rolling desk chair, hunched over your computer. I am a faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, watching you download yet another video game, Caleb.

But seeing people and being with people are different things. Different ideas altogether. I miss touch most of all. A father’s hand, a friend’s arms. A lover’s chest. I still touch, am touched, but it is not the same. It is not a mutual touch. My touch is unwelcome, unfriendly, unwanted. Yet I touch because I love.

And I love you, Caleb. I do. I know you don’t believe me after what I did to you tonight, but I do. My love is not romantic nor maternal. It’s not platonic, either. I love you the way a deer loves a cornfield. It is safe, it is nourishing. It is in its DNA to want to be there, to hide, to eat, to play. You’re very much like a cornstalk, Caleb. You are loved and you are benign. Better than benign, you are a contribution to this world. The cornstalk is unaware that a deer loves it so much that it will bend it and stomp it until its edible morsels spill out from its crumpled empty husk. The cornstalks, there are so many cornstalks, do not understand that they are so loved by the deer as to be devoured.

You’ve seen a kitten before, Caleb, I know you have. Sometimes kittens are so cute. So so so so cute that you wanna put them in your mouth. Do you understand that kind of love, Caleb, that kind of touch? You do not, no one does. And this is why I’m lonely. But I think you know that. You’re different. You’re lonely too. That’s not what makes you different, we’re all lonely in our own way.

You’re different, Caleb, because you know I am here. You see me even when I do not want to be seen. No one has been able to do that in at least 200 years. Sometimes you speak to me. Not in terror, not in rage; I’ve heard many of these voices in my life from those who feared and detested my presence. No, you ask me my name. I won’t tell you, not yet. You tell me about your day, I’m sorry your new boss is so mean, I will rectify this. And last night, you prepared a dinner for me. You’re not a good cook, I can smell that much, but it was your gesture of generosity that touched me. You made cashio e pepe, a recipe you learned from TikTok, and you prepared a bowl just for me. You waited to see if I would appear, and when I did not, you told me you understood wanting to eat alone, so you left it for me on the dining room table, as you went to play the new flight simulator.

Few men have ever been this kind to me before being frightened into it first, or without using their kindness as a disguise. I think you genuinely understand your own quiet desperation among the mass of men. And in turn, you understand others too. I don’t trust the kindness of men, Caleb. I don’t trust the kindness of women, either. Or anyone else’s kindness, to be truthful, but I especially don’t trust men’s kindness. There are exceptions. Andre, whose kindness was loyalty and honesty, and Albert, although his was a much different kind of kindness.

But Caleb, 23-year-old, unshaven, video game loving, boss hating aimless Caleb, your kindness frightens me. I’m scared of what you want, what it is you plan to take from me. Kind men have stolen my childhood, my morals, my money, my love, my life, and my family. What will you take from me, Caleb, that I have not already lost? I’m afraid. I’m afraid to respond to your gentle bait of friendship, because I am afraid you will take my loneliness from me. I am lonely, and that is a choice I have made for myself.

One day, Caleb, you will die. I know exactly when. It will not be of my hand, although I will do nothing to stop it. It is my fate, my path, to know such things. And in your death, you will return my loneliness to me, and it will be a horror to behold, bloody and misshapen. My loneliness, not recognizing its former owner, will howl an unholy and unceasing cry, and I will not be able to bear it.

This is what I fear, Caleb, and this is why I took the bowl of cashio e pepe you left for me and hurled it against the wall, just missing your cheek. I’m not sad that you screamed at me, I’m happy that you did so. This is how it has to be. We are not enemies, Caleb, no no. I love you deeply. Deeper than you can know. I am your deer Caleb, and you are my corn.

Cecil: The fiery flash of fall leaves stuns us, captivates us. Fireworks in slow motion. Or the crackling embers of a finishing flame. Upon the leaves are written instructions for how to make oxygen, how to give life, with every exhalation. How to find flair in fading grace, and how to raise new life by falling to your death. The leaves know they will return again, so much will return again. We return now to the October Monologues.

Michelle Nguyen: There’s this new song I like, but I don’t wanna tell you what it is. I find it kind of embarrassing. Usually I love to talk about my favorite music. There was that summer I was obsessed with the new single by Saint Vincent. The single came in the form of a glazed vase containing three blue flowers. Only one was ever made, and I got the only copy. I found it very catchy, but the flowers eventually died. Or the year I spent listening over and over to that new Janelle Monae album. I forget the name, but the cover was a black and white picture of a well, and if you didn’t share it with someone else in 7 days, you would die. Of course no one ever died, because the album was so good, people just couldn’t stop telling their friends to listen.

My favorite song of all time is a blank cassette tape still in its plastic wrapper. It was owned by a man named Gary Joy. He was a real estate lawyer, reasonably successful, but he always dreamed of being a singer/songwriter. He dreamed all the time of quitting his job and writing songs, but he had never even written one song. Then one day, in a fit of optimism and energy, he bought this cassette, intending to make his first memo. But the day got away from him, and then the week, and then the rest of his life, and he never quit being a lawyer, and he never even wrote one song. This blank cassette tape, still in its wrapper, contains the potential of all the songs he could have written but never did, which is better and more powerful than any song anyone’s actually managed to write. The potential of the thing is always more perfect than the reality of the thing. However, and this is the crucial drawback, the potential is absolutely useless and the reality, however imperfect, can be quite useful. Anyway, I like to hold Gary Joy’s unwritten demo and imagine what it would be like. Hold on, sorry. There’s a customer.

[bell dings] Welcome to Dark Owl Records. What? No, no. No. No! No. OK, bye! [bell dings] Sorry about that. Some people are so unreasonable. I don’t even know what a Taylor Swift is.

But there’s a new song I like, and it’s not cool like my other favorite songs. It’s not a song that fits the kind of image I like to project. When I put on my mirrored leggings, my extra long jorts, and my really big hat, people expect something from me. They expect me to be on the cutting edge. They expect me only to be into bands that aren’t popular yet, or will never be popular, or that frankly don’t know how to play their instruments very well. And the song I like now is not any of those things. It’s… ordinary. It’s… popular. I don’t wanna say what it is. Remember when I only listened to the sound of beez buzzing? That was a good summer. Of course I got stung once or twice or 30 times. [sighs] Hold on, sorry, there’s a customer.

[bell dings] Welcome to Dark Owl Records! Hey. Hey! Hey! Hey! HEEEEY! Thanks, nice to see you again. [bell dings] Sorry about that.

I’m tired of being cool. I was going to say trying to be cool, but trying implies the possibility of failure, and there has never been a moment when I’ve failed to be cool. But here’s the hard truth I’ve come up against: being cool is a young person’s game. And that’s not because young people are better or more interesting than older people. God no. God no. God no! It’s that coolness itself is a concept tied to youth. Coolness is a reactionary manifestation of insecurity. The more insecure you are, the cooler you need to be. It’s colorful plumage. But as I’ve gotten older, I no londer need flashy plumage. I just wanna sit in the comfort of who I am, and not worry about what that looks like from the outside.

Anyway, I can’t stop listening to “Karma Police” by Radiohead. It’s just… a good song, you know? Hold on, sorry, there’s a customer.

[bell dings] You! You’ll never catch me alive! [sound of running] [bell dings]

Cecil: An abundance of words, words falling, fluttering to the earth. Words crunching beneath our feet. They were beautiful once, the words. Now they are beginning to rot, to wilt, to compost, to ferment new growth. To fertilize new words growing upon great trunks of paragraphs and chapters, but not now. Those will come later. Now the words sputter and drop in spiraling arcs to the ground. Here, then, are the final few brightly painted words falling upon you now. The October Monologues.

Steve Carlsberg: What does it mean to be believed? I’ve always known that Night Vale isn’t like other places. As long as I can remember, I could see that. I could also see that no one else could see it. I was alone in my knowledge. Knowledge may be power, but power is often lonely. My grandfather knew. He could see that I was like him. “Steve,” he would say, “us Carlsbergs have always been the town pariahs, but just because they hate you, doesn’t mean they’re right.” I would sit at night as a kid and listen to Cecil on the radio. He was the same age as he is now, and at the time he seemed so wise. But I would hear him dismiss what I knew shouldn’t be dismissed. I would hear him cover up what should be uncovered, and I would know with a child’s certainty that it was wrong. I loved him still. Everyone in town loves Cecil. It is possible to love someone who you know is doing wrong. It’s terribly easy, in fact.

What does it mean to be believed? As a teenager, I started trying to express what I saw about the world. I gave a presentation in my social studies class called “Night Vale – there’s literally nowhere like it”, and I thought it was informative. The class all plugged their ears in unison. The teacher stopped me a minute in, glancing nervously at the 8 surveillance cameras monitoring the classroom. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” the teacher hissed at me. I remember that her breath smelled like Strawberry Jolly Ranchers, and there was a lose crumb of mascara in the sweat of her temples. “No,” I said. I didn’t know what to say. It’s not the kind of question that demands a sincere answer. The report earned me a trip to the principal’s office, and then the re-education pit, which honestly is not as bad as its name. I mean, almost not as bad. It’s pretty bad. It’s a pit, for re-education. So, certainly learned something from that re-education. I learned that you’re equally likely to be punished for being right as you are for being wrong.

What does it mean to be believed? I was a young man entering the workforce, and I had long ago learned to hide away what I knew about my city. I had learned the handshake and the smile, the nod and the necktie, all the signifiers that hid what I truly signified. All of life is a code, and I had been thought the key against my will.

I got a job as a bank teller at the Last Bank of Night Vale. I studied with great interest the townsfolk who came and went there. I learned about their lives and their secrets, and what kind of money they made for the whispered deals out back of quiet parking lots just before the sun went down, pulled up next to a black Sedan that contained their handler who they only knew by a false first name. but I couldn’t forget what I knew, even if I learned to playact that I had. What I know shapes who I am. I can’t close my eyes, not to this town I love. This weird and secret town I love.

What does it mean to be believed? Then I married into the family of Cecil Palmer, host of Night Vale community radio! And he hated me, because he could see that I knew. And after all these years, my mask had slipped a little. I’d lost my interest in hiding. I wanted to speak the truth as I knew it, nothing could be more threatening to Cecil. His life and livelihood depended on speaking the truth as the City Council wanted it. Or as the Vague yet Menacing government agencies crafted it. And here I was, pointing out to him the sky. There are glowing arrows in the sky, there are dotted lines and arrows and circles. The sky is a chart that explains the entire world! I tried to tell him, and this only made him hate me more. I tried to share who I was with him, and this only made him recoil.

Abby listened to my stories, but she never shared my enthusiasm for the truth. “Let it lie,” she would say, “let it lie.” But that’s he point, I can’t let it lie and I can’t lie! We’ve done that for too long! We’ve let our town sit heavy under the weight of euphemism and half truth, and unless someone just said what they saw for once, we would be crushed eventually by that weight!

And then it all changed. I wasn’t alone. The others saw that we lived in a weird place. And you know what? We kept existing. Our world didn’t end merely because we dared acknowledge it. Cecil and I are friends now. I haven’t forgotten how he treated me, but I understand it and I forgive it. Forgiveness and understanding are not the same as forgotten.

What does it mean to be believed? It means everything. It means all.

Cecil: And as the leaves are done, so are the October Monologues. All that can be said has been said. And all that can be said will be said again.

Today’s proverb: Listen, it might seem like everything’s bad right now.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 175 #the october monologues #sorry again for being so tardy #was swamped at work #but here it is

99 notes · View notes