bakerstreet | AU Siblings (or Family in General!) Meme

[ Open casting call for all witches, wizards, sorcerers, and magic misfits. Come be her older/younger sibs!

Or at least give her a better dad than DC Comics Satan. ]

Edited 2021-11-28 03:28 (UTC)

( paternity test? paternity test. )

[ooc: thinking we could pick up where we left off ages ago? father/daughter. I really enjoyed that thread.]

[It's been a wild ride, deciding to leave Sunnydale with some random Englishman who'd claimed to be her father. But of the terrible decisions she's made in her life, this one hadn't been half-bad. Never mind his questionable morals (that's part of the reason she liked Ethan anyway, let's be honest), he'd been good to her. She might even be starting to feel comfortable. Like this might actually work and she could actually be happy? It's a terrifying feeling honestly. Things are surely about to go wrong at any moment.

She's been out late. Later than usual. So late it might as well be called morning. It had been a busy night. Dancing, drinking, screwing, a bit of slaying.

But she's overdone it. Took on too many vampires while not quite sober. So when she finally stumbles into their apartment, she's not only hungover, but scuffed up, bruised, and, well, bleeding.

It's just a light stabbing. Nothing to worry about.]

( ethan has his own amusements — some of which, though he'd rather die than admit it, he finds himself judiciously tempering for faith's sake. he'd never let her know it, either (besides all the other factors in play, he suspects adolescent pride couldn't take the blow and neither could his balls when she decided how to respond), but where he hadn't hesitated to throw buffy into harm's way, the time spent with faith forces him to see not only her youth

but his, once, too. rupert's. deidre. randall.

he sees ripper in her in a way he thinks she'd be horrified by (after, perhaps, getting a kick out of the novelty of ripper's chequered past) and suspects rupert has already seen, too. it isn't as much of a puzzle as all that to figure out the gesture buried in this gesture — empathy, after all these years.

disgusting. he has half a mind to call him and tell him to go fuck himself. probably, eventually, he'll even do it — but not this morning, stirring from where he'd fallen asleep with the coffee he'd made himself when he got in several hours earlier to the ungodly sight of too much of his daughter's blood on the wrong side of her skin and immediately spills it on himself, swearing. )

Fuck me, that's gone cold— don't bleed on that it's magic — bathroom, bathroom, bathroom—

( he is hungover. his shirt is buttoned so badly wrong that when he goes to roll his sleeves up it becomes apparent it will be easier just to take it off, which he does, and then balls it up and uses it to staunch her bleeding. )

Come in here where I can see what I'm doing.

[She winces when the crumpled shirt is pressed against her shoulder, peering up at her dad with unfocused eyes. Faith doesn't really take in his appearance, not really in a state of mind to be particularly observant.

Dad. That's never not going to be weird.] 's fine. I'm fine. [She's not fine. But it's not life-threatening, which is all that really matters in her mind. All the same, she stumbles in the direction he leads her, groaning when they step into the brightly lit bathroom and her skull feels like it might split in half.] Fuck.

Yes, yes, of course you are, ( soothingly, holding the silk against her broken skin with one hand and reaching to turn the tap in the sink on with the other, steering her to sit on the toilet. thank god for habitually fucking women who really might stab you if you leave the seat up; there are ways in which ethan is well-trained, which at least means this isn't going to turn farcial with an unexpected dunking.

first aid. where is the,

there we go, beneath the sink. he dumps the box in her lap, opening it one-handed, a curious mixture of the sort of ordinary things that one might expect to find in a first aid kit under the sink and more esoteric items. that's probably cocaine, that shouldn't be in there, but the thick, sweet smelling salves, that feels like magic.

ethan kneels down on one knee, warily drawing the bloody fabric back—wiping more blood off her in the process, to get a look at how deep the knife (probably) had gone. how creative he's probably going to have to get. ) Let's see, let's see...I'm going to clean this up before I do anything else. ( yeah, the shirt he pressed to her wound smells not only of her blood but of his stale coffee, so for several reasons that's a good idea. ) It'll sting. Tell me what a cunt I am, it'll make you feel better.

[Faith stares down at the first aid kit open in her lap, just looking for something to focus on and clear her muddled brain. Her gaze focuses on the small bag of powder. She knows full well what it is. Not her sort of vice, but it had certainly been one of her mother's many. One that had no doubt sped along her death. It brought up bad memories that she tried to keep locked away. And fear. How was she going to lose him? She always lost those she cared about, so how could this possibly turn out any different? Maybe it'd be her that would end up dead.

Wouldn't that be nice?

She hisses when he starts to clean the wound, cursing under her breath although calling him a cunt isn't among them.] N-Not my first stab wound. [And most certainly not her last.] Kn-now how this goes.

Didn't see the knife until it w-was sticking out of me... [And she shouldn't have yanked it out. She knows that, but she'd not been thinking clearly at the time.]

Oh, how comforting.

( not her first stab-wound. under the circumstances, it can hardly come as a surprise to him; the way something in his gut clenches unpleasantly at the thought takes him off-guard, and he's certainly not had enough caffeine or alcohol to deal with it, so he doesn't. concentrates, instead, on cleaning the wound to get a better look at it, methodical, with surprisingly deft and gentle hands—

not his first rodeo, either. of course. and faith isn't even threatening him presently, so she's a better patient than ripper ever was, god knows. )

This is going to need suturing, my sweet. ( preempting any protests about hospitals: ) Not to worry. I can do it.

[Her focuses shifts from the cocaine to his face as he works, brow furrowing a bit as she watches in silence. How long had it been since she had someone who gave a damn? Her first watcher had cared, she thinks. Or at least she'd made a good show of it before Kakistos ripped her in half right in front of Faith's eyes. No one since. And not many before.

The mention of hospitals starts a wrinkle in her nose that smoothes out once he clarifies.] Good. Don't really want to be answering any questions about who stabbed me or have cops breathing down my neck. [Doctors did tend to get concerned when young women stumbled in with stab wounds. They were funny that way.]

( a dry chuckle, more of a breath than a proper sound, )

You'll be shocked to hear I feel similarly.

( yeah, she won't.

the wound is still bleeding, but he's cleaned it up enough he can see what he's doing; he lays out needle, sutures, a salve. ) Hold that a moment, there's my love, ( putting pressure on the wound with what is definitely a total write-off shirt now, ethan straightens to wash his hands and fish out a pair of gloves from the kit from underneath what looks like several epipens.

rupert would be proud. well, no, rupert would be appalled that ethan is in his forties and still thinks someone might OD in his apartment. still, he's practically a boy scout, he's so prepared. hands clean and gloves snapped into place— )

Last time I wore a pair of these I had a tattoo machine, ( in a tone of fond reminiscence. ) Not the Sunnydale incident, ( it probably cost buffy (or possibly rupert) a small fortune to get rid of the neck tattoo he'd given her, ) just a little enchantment for a friend. A protection glyph.

( hm. maybe he should get another tattoo machine. )

[The alcohol still swirling in her system is starting to clear enough that she really feels it now as he takes the needle to her skin.] Hmm... I could probably use a protection glyph. [She laughs dryly only to have it cut off with a pain-filled hiss.] Maybe twenty.

( alcohol, as ethan well knows from his life in general and his forays into tattooing in specific, is a blood thinner; he will need to keep an eye on that. what a responsible father he's becoming, hungover with her blood all over his hands.

ethan smiles at her, close-mouthed, and doesn't think of any other blood that might be said to be, as it were, on his hands. )

Well, duck, it can't hurt.

( a quirk of his mouth. )

I tell a lie. It does hurt like an absolute fucker.

( she has her little ink, though, she knows. not a badly done piece, actually, though since he noticed it on her arm he's been itching to coax her into letting him add to it, embellish. insinuate himself yet further,

an ethan is for life, after all, not just for christmas and ill-advised roadtrips.

he nips off the end of the sutures. applies a salve, carefully, and it feels cold and hurts and then doesn't, numbing—a little, but less than she might prefer when the alcohol and adrenaline have both worn off. wraps a bandage around it, carefully, and upon consideration once he has fastened that into place: presses a kiss on top of it. ) Right as rain.

( a flare of magic is left behind where his lips were; a good luck charm, more than a healing in specific. just a chaotic push in the right direction, that the dice will fall in her favor, that she won't get a coffee-scented infection, that the scar will be negligible. )

[All the pet names and care he's given her still leaves her unsteady. It's not what she's used to. At least she's stopped suspecting he was up to something or that he was just pretending to care. Trust is hard to come by with Faith after so many betrayals in too few years.

The kiss on her bandaged shoulder leaves her a little shocked, staring at him. Anyone else doing that might have been met with a sock to the nose and a reminder to knock it off with the 'touchy-feely' bullshit. But she can't do that with him.

This is what having a parent should be, shouldn't it? Sure, he's not exactly the picture of a father, what with his own drunken and drug-fueled long nights and other extracurriculars, and he seemingly accepted that she'd have to keep going out and slaying vampires... but it's still more than she ever thought she'd have.] Thanks, dad. [It feels a little funny coming from her lips but she does want him to know that she does think of him that way. He's not just a sperm donor, like she'd called him when they first met.]

( ethan is unprepared for—

literally everything that's happened to him since he answered his phone I can hear you breathing, Ripper, and if you aren't even wanking then this is a little much, actually. but his brain registers the lack of sarcasm and some part of him he'd thought long since dead and buried decides that he likes that, actually, that it's good. that he wanted it, without having ever let himself know as much.

it dizzies him for a moment. his arch and eloquent soliloquys on what it is to become a father unexpectedly did not adequately prepare him for how it feels for the other necessary party in that equation to suddenly agree. )

Do you know what we should do,

( eyes gleaming suddenly, beaming at her, taking up her right hand—and what a right hand! what a right hook! she's alive, improbably, and this unfamiliar feeling is probably pride—and pressing his thumbs to the back of her middle finger. ) Nevermind a protective ward — actually, nevermind that, we'll revisit that — but what do you think of having a little cross just here?

( he curls his fingers under hers so he can pull her hand up, pressing her knuckles against his cheekbone in something that's half punch parody, half affectionate bunt: ) Leave a hell of a mark, if you will. Well, not for long, obviously, but I for one am a great fan of adding insult to injury.

( punch a burning cross into any vampire that crosses her. brilliant idea. spectacular. bet rupert would never suggest that to his girl, they're missing out terribly. )

[His sudden taking of her hand and his grin pushes a reciprocal but startled grin from her in return and a laugh when he takes her hand to his face in the mock punch.

Sure, it's not something that would save her life in a fight, but she likes the idea all the same. And not only because it would be him giving her the tattoo, although that is certainly a fairly strong factor.

This isn't normal. A father offering to give her daughter tattoos, just as everything had been since agreeing to go with him months before. But it worked and honestly she wouldn't have it any other way.] Let's do it. The middle finger is a nice touch too.

( at her agreement, his delight is palpable—he kisses her knuckles before he releases her hand, bustling to clean up after this impromptu bit of field medicine. it is less delightful, the awareness that he's not twenty-one any more and he bustles sometimes, a drearily middle-aged thing to do for a man who'd once thought he'd not have to worry about living this long, certain he would flame out long beforehand.

honestly, it's a miracle he hasn't and he can hardly take the credit for it. chaotic dumb luck. maybe janus fucking loves irony, that'd fit. it isn't as if his marvelous self-preservation is working nearly hard enough,

he worries now and then, watching faith, about what he's unknowingly passed to her. what nature did, and what nurture might have the chance to do. (how little nurturing it's apparent she had, before, and how terrifying it is to think anything he's doing now could be so described.) )

I can get the kit within a few days, I expect. Now, if I know bloodloss — and I do — I expect that Slayer constitution of yours would be well served by a fry up.

[Faith herself never dreamed she'd live long out of her teens let alone her twenties. And that was even before being called as a Slayer. Now her days are numbered. Even her current age is something of an anomaly among Slayers not named Buffy. And she did little to protect herself, still as reckless as ever. Ethan, as happy as she is to have in her life, hasn't done much to change that... although she does worry about how he'd take it sometimes. Or how she might take it if he died.]

A fry up? [Faith looks confused by the unfamiliar slang, trying to piece it together.] I'm hoping that's food of some kind because I am fucking starving.

As it just so happens.

( sure, heavy on the "of some kind", and the nutritional value is debatable but slayers probably don't have to worry about little things like arteries other than 'whether or not someone's going to try and puncture theirs', so what's the harm. he touches her hair with absent, familiar fondness before he makes from the bathroom for the kitchen, calling behind him, )

Mum would pretend we were high tea and church people, now and then, but come Sunday it's black coffee and greasy sausages as far as the eye can see. How do you feel about a cooked tomato?

( ethan has to this point not mentioned any family besides himself, giving the impression of a man who might have sprung fully formed from zeus's forehead—

and it would be zeus, too, the slag. )

[Faith feels the linger of his touch on her head as he starts to walk away. It's little things like that, things she's never had, that mean more to her than she'll ever admit. Collecting herself, she soon follows after him. Hearing him talk about his mother does pique her interest. With how little he'd mentioned his family, she'd assumed he'd much the same neglect as she'd had.

Her nose wrinkles.] A cooked tomato? [She clearly isn't too sure about that.] I don't know? Sounds... mushy.

Well, ( philosophically, ) I'll eat it if you don't.

( following him, she'll find ethan in the kitchen—making a fresh pot of coffee and setting out pans, ingredients. eggs, sausages, he digs out some hash browns from quite far back in the freezer...they're not actually poorly stocked, all things and ethan's tendency to run on black coffee and vibes aside.

he's oiling the pan for the bacon when he adds, )

You do look like her, you know, it was the very first thing about you I noticed.

( at the time, it had probably sounded like a joke. to be fair, much of what he says does.

he is, perhaps, more comfortable that way. )

[Faith is watching him get all the ingredients together, pushing herself up onto the counter but not in his workspace. She's got an orange in hand not to eat but the flip around in her hand. She catches it, eyes widening.]

Like your mother? [Guess she had to look like someone. To be honest, she'd never seen much of herself in her own mother. Faith can't help the smirk as she sets the orange back down.] So your mom was hot, huh? [Innapropriate question, sure. But she couldn't help herself.]

Oh, a stone cold fox in her day, my love. January Rayne. We got her beautiful bone structure, you know.

( there is very little rhyme or reason visible to the way that ethan approaches making breakfast, a good old english fried everything, but in short order the kitchen smells good. like home, to him, as much as he'd never admit it. maybe that's what puts him in the frame of mind to say, as if he's thought about it before, )

I'd have named you December if I'd had a say, more than likely.

( the challenges are different, probably, rather than easier — to finding a daughter nearly whole and nearly grown, and insinuating himself now into the context of her life. different, to being there when she was small enough she couldn't kick him in the face (or at least not as hard) for an inclination to count all of her little teeny toes. very little about ethan gives the impression of a man who'd ever day-dreamed about holding a baby,

but this baby. this real, living, breathing person who's half of him, standing in front of him—it's hard not to imagine what it might have been like, if he'd had to make space for her sooner. it'd be easy to think he wouldn't have wanted to, but he's had time to mull it over, now, in the quiet dark when she's out or sleeping and he's neither.

it wouldn't have been selfless, he thinks. he'd have loved the idea of having someone part of him forever. if someone had said, do you want to have a baby with me? he'd have laughed, he'd have left. but if someone had said, here's this baby,

he thinks he'd have still left, probably. but with the baby. )

[Faith blinks, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Because it certainly sounds like something he's thought about and not something that just sprung to mind. What might it have been like, if he'd had her since the beginning? Ethan isn't exactly a responsible parent, by any normal definition, but he'd paid her more mind than her mother had in the entire 17 years before she died. It's somewhat of a miracle she'd lived long enough to become a Slayer.

December. She likes it, she thinks. There's a shakiness to her voice when she speaks again, although she does her best to hide it.] Not even sure where my mom got 'Faith' from.

Probably thought it might magically make me a good little Catholic even though she never was. [Now her name just feels like some sick joke.]

( ethan points at her with a spatula, pleased with himself— )

You can have December for a middle name, if you fancy it. I'm going to have to get you a passport, soon, we can put anything we like on that.

( yeah, he doesn't mean 'through legal means'. for various reasons, including but not limited to doubting that any of faith's actual documentation is on hand anywhere, the possibility of the council tracking any pursuit of it, and because it's boring and tedious and he knows a guy who can put together something as good as the real thing with so much less bureaucracy. )

And no fear of my attempting to convert you. Though Janus does like you, ( absently.

he liked ripper, too, the bastard. )

Alright. Faith December Rayne it is. [She ducks her head right after saying so, blushing lightly and trying to hide it with her hair. As much as she wanted her father around, admitting she'd take his last name too? Well, she's so used to being rejected, that putting herself out there is terrifying even if she knows deep down that Ethan will not. She's also never been particularly good at admitting her feelings. At least not in a way that anyone would consider healthy.

Then he distracts her with that comment.] He likes me? [She's unsettled by that thought. Any sort of god paying her any attention would.] Why?

( no one has seen ethan rayne's eyes soften the way that they do in this moment since before faith was ever born, and he stops — sets the spatula down (fastidiously out of the way), and takes her face between both of his hands.

he smells faintly of alcohol and antiseptic and cold coffee and now bacon and oil, too, and he hasn't put a shirt back on. there is an ugly scar on his arm where he'd burned off the mark of eyghon, and others, too; less than someone who knows him well might imagine. more than most people's fathers, making them breakfast of a sunday morning.

he touches his thumb lightly to her nose, and the corner of her mouth. he says, )

Sweet girl, I can't think of a single reason why he shouldn't.

( he lets go. he's humming a little john hiatt under his breath as he takes up his spatula again,

he's made it through a full chorus before he takes up the thread of his thought— )

I worship chaos, as you might've heard. ( from buffy or one of her insipid little friends or even rupert, darkly outlining some cautionary tale before they'd known the significance. or perhaps not, but it's somewhere to start, at least. ) Janus is not, precisely, the god of chaos. He is the god of doorways. Of duality. The beginning and end of things — he and I rub along quite well together. Chaos lends itself to those abstractions, the transitional, liminal space of things—

( there is a kindness in him that rupert must have remembered, for all he must equally have thought it a fucking long-shot. it is that kindness that says, )

You are no fixed point, my love. You are nothing but possibility.

( info in journal — are YOU the twin brother she came to the US looking for? content warnings for pandemic horrors. )

[Are you OK with a Kris? Maybe they could bake a pie together or Kris could try and fail to hide Ralsei's Dark World from Frisk?]

[The school's tiny. Everybody got stuck together, just down the hall from the other grades, with them under Mom like Kris and Asriel used to be before Frisk was ever here, and still Kris right in the same building. Plus, Frisk's an observant kid on their own.

They know Susie's called a bully, and they notice she's suddenly shadowing their big sib--or the other way around?

Mom doesn't need to know if something's up. Nothing might be up! Or it might just be a Teen Thing. They're not a teen yet, but they can figure it out. Right?

So Frisk says they gotta stay back and go to the bathroom or something equally random after school, and they loiter all sneakily at the entrance, stealing glances backwards.]

[Spoilers inevitable in any thread with him.]

[ would kill for her canon siblings, of course, or (and this is a long shot) an ironwood for an AU where he's her dad instead and has a proper support system fdhgsdfhgsakfgsakgf,,,, otherwise, go wild! ]

(If you don't mind spoilers for the novel featuring her Neo could easily fit as a sibling or maybe a cousin.

Assuming you are down for it maybe we could play with them both ditching Atlas to go to Beacon?)

[ yessss, that sounds great to me! ]

((ooc: Let me know if this starter works.))

[Watching out the window as their airship left the ground was the moment it finally sank in for Neo that it was really happening. They were finally leaving out from their father's influence, at least more than they had ever done before.

It had been surprisingly easy to do once they had finally committed to it. They quietly procured an airship using the card Jacques left open for Weiss to use, they scheduled it for the middle of the night so they could simply leave while Jacques was asleep. By the time he awoke and realized it was happening it would be too late. It'd be a PR nightmare to drag his children out of one of the most prestigious Huntsman Academies in the world, so he'd have no recourse to make them come back.

Once their airship reached altitude Neo looked at Weiss who was sitting next to her. She gently took Weiss's hand into her own and squeezed it hoping to provide what reassurances she could. Neo knew that her sister was probably more than a little freaked out right now. Unlike Neo she wasn't used to defying Jacques, especially in this dramatic of a fashion.

Out of the Schnee siblings Neo had always been the odd one out. When she was born with heterochromia Jacques had reacted in his usual petulant manner and for a time even tried to make her wear colored contacts to make them the same.

Then there was the matter of her name. Neopolitan was a name she chose for herself. Originally she was born as Wren Schnee. A cruel name in hindsight. It hadn't been intentional, no one knew she would be mute until much later, but it also wasn't something that Jacques sought to rectify once it became obvious. Whether he didn't care or was in fact being cruel about it Neo never knew.

In a lot of ways she was the opposite of her eldest sister. Where Winter had gone for the rigidity of the Atlas military, Neo instead became something of a hellion. She dressed and acted however she wanted, whenever she wanted. She had gone through a phase where she had listened to Jacques or at least tried to stay quiet and out of the way. That all went away after a point though, and once it did Jacques rarely knew a day of complete peace.

The only reason she hadn't left earlier was that she wasn't going to leave Weiss behind. They had supported each other through all this time, there was no way Neo would be able to stomach abandoning Weiss. Being a huntress hadn't originally been Neo's dream, but hearing Weiss's conviction she knew she wanted to help make that happen. No matter what they'd become huntresses together and be two of the best the world had ever seen.]

[ Weiss takes a deep breath, holding it for a practiced moment before exhaling, watching as it ghosts outwards and clouds the window just a few inches from her face. With the Schnee Manor just a tiny white dot in the distance, her dream was no longer just a far-off "what if".

She almost jumps, at first, feeling her sister's hand grip hers. She's been almost in a trance for the past hour or so, ever since she grabbed her bags and led Neo out to meet Klein in the hall. He'd been a great help in sneaking them through the servant's corridors - truly, he knew that house better than any of them ever would.

Weiss steels herself before turning to Neo again, giving her sister a strained smile. She's exhilarated, of course, but there's still something telling her this all can't be real. Neo is a welcome anchor, grounding her to reality.

They could only do this together, she thinks. A fragile snowflake and a caged songbird, leaning on each other for support. ]

We did it.

[ It's the first words she's spoken, barely above a whisper, since they bid goodbye to Klein in the library. She grips Neo's hand a little tighter, her palms sweaty. ]

[The only thing she'd truly miss about the manor would be Klein. He was so kind, and had helped her when she was at her lowest. Without his influence she might have become a criminal or lashed out in a much more destructive fashion against Jacques. She hoped that it wouldn't take Weiss and herself long to become successful enough so he could leave the employ of Jacques.

Her mind leaves the manor as Weiss speaks. It was good to hear her voice after that tense few hours. She smiles warmly and nods, they'd done it. They would be at Beacon in no time at all. They'd stick together and get ready for this world.

She knew she'd have to help Weiss in some regards. While they had both known luxury Neo was more ready to abandon some aspects than Weiss was, she'd do her best to make the transition easier.

Leaning into Weiss she wraps her arm around her sister to hug her tight. Affection was something important to her bond to Weiss. It would have been easy for them to become cold and distant from everyone. To Neo showing her affection to Weiss was in its own way a small act of rebellion, not letting the way Jacques treated her ruin the bond she had with her sister.]

[ Weiss lets the tension ease out of her body as she wraps an arm around Neo in turn. The contact makes her feel safe; eases her ever-beating heart. There's still remnants of adrenaline coursing through her veins, telling her they're not safe yet, that there's still more hardships to come. And while that may be true, for the moment she is held tight in her sister's arms, and she allows herself to relax.

She closes her eyes, wondering if she can get in an hour or two of sleep before they arrive. She knows any attempt will ultimately be in vain, what with how stressed she still is, but resting her eyes is better than nothing. At least this way she can pretend she's slept in the past three days. Maybe even Neo will believe it!

(Weiss knows she won't. She's extraordinarily talented at reading people. Weiss is convinced her lack of speech has somehow dialed up all of her senses to eleven. She can probably hear the difference in Weiss's breathing.) ]

[Really there was no way Weiss was getting that past Neo. She already realized Weiss hadn't been sleeping well. All she could hope though was that when they finally reached Vale that Weiss would be able to rest better.

Not that Neo was much better. She felt high-strung. This was something she had wanted for a while, but actually doing it was another thing entirely. She was more prepared for this than Weiss, but she still realized she was leaving a lot of the security Jacques offered financially.

For now she does her best to be a good sister and provide her sister comfort. She shifts Weiss, gently urging Weiss into laying her head against her shoulder. It'd be more comfortable for Weiss that way.

Then it was just a matter of waiting whether Weiss got any sleep or not. Soon they'd be touching down in Vale and their new life could start.]

[ Weiss makes a tiny sound of protest before her eyes flutter open - even if sleep won't come easily, she's going to pretend to make an effort. But once she sees what Neo is offering, the smallest of smiles graces the ice queen's face.

She leans over, putting her weight on Neo for now. Weiss isn't worried about it taking any toll on her - despite her small stature, she's surprisingly strong. As soon as her head hits Neo's shoulder, she feels the bubbling tension begin to ease out of her. The contact really does provide a rare sense of comfort - comfort she rarely gets from any of their other family members. Even Winter, the kindest of their siblings, offered physical contact only rarely. ]

...Thank you, Neo.

[Neo had always been the most affectionate of them. In a way it probably was a rebellion against Jacques. She refused to let the way he treated her to shut her heart away from the family she had. Especially not Weiss, who she was very protective of.

Once Weiss was cozy against her shoulder she brushed her fingers through Weiss's hair as if to say there was no need for thanks. Weiss was her sister, she'd do anything for her just as she was sure Weiss would do anything for her.

Settled in, it would be a quiet ride to Vale. Neo was aware that their next step was the entrance test. What all that entailed wasn't immediately clear, but she knew they would be spending the next night in a common area. It'd be good Weiss, she thinks, to have to interact with a lot of people from different social classes.]

[ Entrance exams would be a challenge, but they didn't come this far just to get turned down. Not only had Weiss studied extensively, but she'd trained just as hard - either against the occasional stray Grimm, or against Neo herself in sparring matches. She was as ready as she'd ever be.

And she had complete faith in Neo. Her sister had proven to be a force of nature in the battlefield, just as flighty and hard to capture as the bird she'd been named after. Weiss had bested her a handful of times, of course, but still Neo always seemed to have something new up her sleeve. Not to mention just how versatile her semblance was proving to be - even if it had earned her the ire of many around them. Really, Weiss was just relieved to find their family wasn't stuck in the little cookie cutter molds their legacy had crafted for them.

For now, Weiss wasn't worried about things like fitting in or making new friends. She and Neo would be on the same team, if she had anything to say about it. From there, she could only hope their other teammates would be relatively competent. ]

[ info in journal. tldr; it's God. by her very nature, she could be the parent of anyone and i'm open to anything, angels and humans alike. assumed cr a-okay. unless you choose to fill out my opt-in/opt-out template, Dess won't be using any or all her omni-powers on your character. please do fill it out if you want to play with her godliness, though, or send me a pm! ]

AU Siblings (or Family in General!) Meme

AU Siblings (or Family in General!) Meme

raven | teen titans

ethan rayne | buffy the vampire slayer

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ngl i was thinking of it when i posted here.

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sorry for the delay, i'm hairdressing in december

no problem, i'm slow off and on myself so don't even worry about it.

oh my god this is way later than i intended it to be EVEN SO

<3

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gwenaëlle vauquelin | original

Frisk ♥ Undertale ♥ OTA

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lmk if you want things differently, totally good w/ rewriting \o/

Maedhros | The Silmarillion

Llewellyn Watts 🔎 Murdoch Mysteries 🔎 OTA

Bruno Madrigal ⧖ Encanto ⧖ OTA

Weiss Schnee | RWBY

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sorry for the delay, finals kicked my ass

No worries! Finals are killer. Holidays kept me busy on my end.

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dess | original | ota