#Halo imagines

[morganas-pendragons]

respite | Master Chief

this is the halo discords fault.

@lialacleaf / @embarrassedauthornerd / @empresskadia

***

His dreams are not kind to him.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to wake up in the middle of the night and not allow the scream building in his throat to break free. To untangle his grip from crumpled sheets, to slow his breathing back to something steady where his heartbeat isn't pounding in his own ears.

His dreams are not kind to him. His ghosts, even less.

You're woken up to screaming.

His adjustment has not been easy since Cortana's disappearance. So much has happened to the Master Chief in so little time, and not a single person onboard this ship has taken the opportunity to give him the time to process it.

You're determined to be the one who helps him do so. It starts off simple, as it did when you first met. Assurances of watching his back and being his partner on the field. Friendly touches on forearms and shoulders, firm nods of confirmation, always looking out for each other.

It had turned into something more when he'd saved you from the Flood.

It had turned into something more for him when you'd saved him from the group of Brute Chieftains just before High Charity had crashed. That's a whole other story for a whole other day.

John trusted you. He trusted you with his life, with himself, and that was not easy to obtain. Having the trust of The Master Chief as both a soldier and a person was like being given his heart and watching it settle into your hands.

A broken, bleeding thing.

You remember the first time he'd actually screamed. It was loud and agonizing and raw, and only hours after Miranda had died. You had maybe two hours tops before you had to activate the Ring. You'd forced him to sleep for said two hours, because he was not going to function well otherwise.

The Arbiter acted as he did not hear it. Dishonorable, he'd said, to look upon a man like that and acknowledge his turmoil.

"Well, your dishonor is our comfort."

You'd entered the room and sat by his side until he calmed down. You didn't touch him, you didn't say a word, but the act of your presence at his side was enough.

You slid his helmet back on and leaned forward to lightly knock your head against it. There is not an ounce of apprehension in your gaze. No. That's confidence.

Confidence in him.

"To war then, Master Chief."

John had come to appreciate that about you. When everyone else was betting on him to lose and the odds were entirely against him, your steady footing and steadfastness were all he needed to keep pushing forward.

He found himself seeking you out more than embracing his elusive nature and isolating to cope with what played behind his eyes when he slept. Miranda's death. Keyes death. Johnsons death. Cortana-

Cortana had taken his willingness to embrace the fight. Having you and her had rejuvenated him. Had given him a purpose that he felt he could successfully fulfill.

Then she was gone. She'd touched him, said those words that would forever be burned into his memory, and she was gone.

John would've been lying if he said he wasn't terrified that the same thing would happen to you.

That's what brought him to this point. Fingers wound tightly enough in the sheets to crumple them beneath his grasps, blue eyes wildly seeking something to anchor to while his heart pounded loudly in his ears. The moonlight fractured against the window to his right, illuminating the bedroom and his body in white as he twisted and turned on the mattress.

He didn't fully emerge from that nightmare until you opened the door.

Vulnerable. You're vulnerable. You are not safe.

"John? Are you alright?"

You haven't moved. He can just barely see you lingering in the darkness of his doorway. You've closed the door behind you on entry, fingers wound around the wall loosely as you wait for an opening to come closer.

He needs to breathe. His chest hurts, and his eyes are on fire, and why are his cheeks wet-

You're sitting beside him in a moment's notice. He can't quite hear what you're saying now, and perhaps he doesn't need to, because all he can feel is the warmth of your hand on his chest and the other curving around his jawline. It's a stark contrast from the bitter cold of death that always seems to linger in his dreams.

He reads your lips instead as the world slowly comes back into focus. You are safe. You are with someone you trust. You are secure. All attributes that the two of you have said about one another. All attributes that caused him to allow himself to be vulnerable, to allow you to see a side of him most people didn't.

His mind shifts backwards to the first time he'd let you remove his helmet. That alone spoke volumes. Most Spartans didn't even let the other members of their fire team remove their helmets, or their armor.

It had been the talk of the Infinity for weeks.

"John." You're still giving him an opportunity to talk, and the way your gentleness and patience is so all encompassing causes the breath he'd lost to slowly come back into his lungs. "What do you need?"

The logical part of his brain knows the answer to that. He needs to win the war. He needs peace of mind. He needs sleep, and food, and Blue. He really misses Blue Team.

What he does not need is to talk about this dream. About the death. About losing you, and how watching you die finally made him wake up to a very simple realization: Losing you was not an option. Losing you could not happen, because he was in love with you, and had been for a while.

His desires had just not allowed themselves to be known when being the face of a war only he could win.

His heart, however, is what wins out in the end. Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117 looks up at you and says, "You."

***

You don't know what that means. For all the time that you and John have been dancing around each other - years, in fact, because you'd resigned yourself to your feelings being one-sided long before this - you never anticipated broken, bleeding fingers shakily reaching out to wrap your own around what is left of his heart.

That is exactly what's on full display right now.

"I don't want to take advantage-"

Your breath catches in your throat as John's hands come to cradle your jaw. It's the first time he's touched you without gloves covering his fingers. It's the first time you've also been able to really see him without the helmet, and he is the most magnificent man you've ever laid eyes on.

You've wondered for years what color his eyes are. It has haunted your dreams, especially whenever the two of you were separated when the Forward Unto Dawn split.

Blue. Such a glorious, deep shade of blue.

"If I didn't want it," He says quietly. "I wouldn't ask."

You slide your knees against the standard UNSC mattress and allow him to, though slowly and hesitantly, take you into his embrace. Menial comforts are not something Spartans are afforded. To be able to take the offer of your comfort, of you, is not something he ever regret doing.

John's head slowly falls into the dip of your shoulder the minute you are in his lap. It's comfortable, and warm, and all you can feel against you is every part of him. It's exactly what you've dreamt of for all the years you've held such deeply rooted feelings for him.

You shiver as his breath fans across your skin. It's intimate. You wonder if picking his head back up to kiss him is too far, but you miss one hundred percent of the risks you don't take.

So you do.

"John," You whisper. "There's never going to be a time where I don't bet on you. You are the one who's gotten us this far, and you're the one who will see us through. I know it. I believe in you."

You watch the knot in his throat bob as he swallows, eyes brightened by the beams of moonlight from outside as you both hesitate.

"Believe in me a little bit longer," His voice is so low that you almost don't hear it, and he's the one who leans forward to follow that desire he has suppressed for is long. "Please."

You nod. Once, twice, three times.

"Always."

And the moment his mouth catches yours, the safety he has so desperately been seeking since Cortana disappeared finds itself encompassing him within their arms.

For the weary soldier, respite comes in the form of his partner: His compassionate, empathetic, gentle partner who will always be there to watch his six. To fight his demons, to ward away his ghosts.

He would not have it be anyone else.

Only you.

[selfindulgentraptor]

Thinking about his wings

[venduri]

Only you could accomplish such art, Celebrimbor

Assad Zaman as Celebrimbor from JRR Tolkien's The Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales

[trashinyourpockets]

Introducing your alien son to your bf

[blackfire5561]

He wants a bite (of ice cream) 🍨

[narratively-doomed]

yum!

[marejadilla]

Stephanie Rew, "The Alchemist", oil, egg tempera and 24ct gold leaf on panel. B, 1971, Scottish painter based in Edinburgh, UK.

[duskier]

Actually solemn knight Ghost who took a vow of silence after he wasn't able to save his clan leader.

The late Lord Cailean MacTavish had taken Simon in when he was a young boy. Had trained him to be a skilled soldier, fed him, vouched for him to others despite the reputation Simon's father, the late Riley patriarch, had sewn. Even sent money to Simon's mother to allow her to live comfortably all the way to her natural end. When the young Simon saw Cailean fall in the midst of the chaos of battle, his entire world rotted away. It felt like losing his father all over again- no, it felt like truly losing his father. And he couldn't help but entirely blame himself. If only he'd been faster... he should have sacrificed himself. Stepped in front of the spear and let it pierce his own heart. The world wouldn't have missed Simon Riley, but the loss of Cailean MacTavish was a scar upon the land that would not heal for generations.

For all intents and purposes, Simon Riley died the day Cailean MacTavish did.

Ghost who then spent his entire life protecting the young Lord John MacTavish after. Ghost, who was dark, broody, quiet. John, the bright-eyed, intelligent trickster son who didn't fully understand, who didn't know the vow of silence Ghost had taken or the guilt that weighed heavier than the world on Ghost's shoulders. John always trying to get Ghost to speak, even to make a noise. They were only a decade apart in age, but John's playfulness and Ghost's stoicism made it seem like they were leages apart.

Ghost fighting to keep John safe above all else if only in memory of his father, though Cailean's advisors Lord Price and Lady Laswell were always planning for the clan's future- vying for the throne. They only wanted what was best for John, the glory of the throne, but Ghost knew it would only bring danger. His nightmares of reliving Cailean's ashen face twisted and morphed into seeing John's face looking up at him instead.

John had grown into a fine man. Athletic, handsome, sharp as a nail. He doesn't remember his father as well as Ghost does, but he feels the weight of his need to finish his father's dream- to secure the throne for his clan. Ghost wants to break the vow of silence then and there just to convince him how stupid the idea is, how it could get him killed before he's even turned 25. He doesn't.

Ghost wasn't just taking care of John as a service to Cailean anymore. John talked to Ghost incessantly. While some had taken to mocking Ghost as a means to goad him into speaking, John had grown into speaking to Ghost as an equal. Sharing little jokes, his eyes sparkling as he watched Ghost chuckle dryly. John took care of Ghost, oftentimes feeding him before himself. John's big heart was part of what made Ghost ultimately realize he had fallen for him. Which only made Ghost more concerned about this fight for the throne. He could live with never telling John how he felt, staying by his side as his loyal companion as John would marry a beautiful maiden and have children... but he couldn't live in a world without John in it.

Against all odds, John succeeds.

Ghost lost a lot in his protection of John. His left arm was burned while saving John from a fire, his nerves shot and tendons frayed. He couldn't raise it above his shoulder anymore. Ragged scars ran the other side of his face, fighting off an assassin with a knife. One of his legs was weaker than the other, an arrow wound to the thigh he never properly healed from. Still, he remained the most steadfast and feared soldier.

They were always seen together, John always talking to Ghost. On the day of John's coronation, Ghost breaks his vow- no. His vow is fulfilled. Cailean's dream accomplished, his son seated upon the throne. It was like a knot in Ghost's stomach that had lived there for years finally untwisted, released at the sight of the crown atop John's proud head. Before everyone, Ghost held John's hand in his own. Kneeling before who he believed to be the true and rightful king. The love of his life. Vowing with a voice hoarse from disuse that he would continue to protect and honor King John until his final breath.

[asphodeldreams]

it's actually insane to me how many rvb fans have only gotten into the show in the past like 2 years. looking at the survey results so far is breaking my brain i think because 2022-2024 is in the top three for that question currently. like in the time between zero/family shatters and restoration there was practically NOTHING happening with the series what do you mean this many people STARTED watching it then?? also i see so many people on my dash who are like "watching for the first time i'm on season 6 teehee" HELLO?? should-should i tag for spoilers on my rvb posts??

[heylolita00]

[pvpcivilization]

ok im going to bed bc its late as hell here but i wanted to doodle parkciv finally

[davidellisartworkstuff]

Jaune and Pyrrha backing up towards each other from large Grimm tentacles around them.*

Pyrrha with her rifle aimed as her back bumps into Jaune’s.*

Jaune, drawing his sword and putting on a deep voice: We trade one villain for another.

Pyrrha: Hmm? *Cutely raises her eyebrow.*

Jaune, huffing: C’mon... Halo 3? The Arbiter? Chief and Arby back to back against the Gravemind, cmonnnn! It’s iconic!

Pyrrha cringing as she shrugs.*

Jaune: Ah Pyrrhaaa!

Pyrrha: I’m sorry! I just haven’t seen many films!

Jaune: It’s a game! *Slaps a tentacle aside as it tries to grab him* Yeah hang on, one second. This is important.

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - shapeshifters fear

Looking at the man in front of you, your heart pounded in your chest, you cradled your injured arm as you felt the blood running through your fingers.

“John…” you whispered.

“My orders are to bring you in.”

“John don’t do this please… you know I’m not a treat…”

“My orders are clear. You are to be tried as a threat to reach, and for lying on your application forms when you applied to be a marine.”

You quickly shook your head.

“I’m not lying! I swear! They asked if I had any contact with a list of certain species and I didn’t!���

“You’re one of them!” He hissed.

“That’s doesn’t mean I’m in contact with them!”

“Then come in without a fight, answer the questions and maybe they’ll just give you time in prison.”

“I’ll be executed.”

He aimed his gun, and you took an unsure step away from him.

“John please… please I’m begging you…”

“Get on your knees, hands behind your head.”

You shook your head.

“John they’ll kill me…”

“I’ll talk with them, but you need to come in peacefully for me to be able to convince them.”

“Do you think that’s going to work?! You saw what they did to that man last week! I never did anything I swear!”

“Stand down.” He said.

You looked around for something, anything to help, and you saw a few barrels nearby but you had to act quickly.

You gave John a small smile, and you shook your head.

“I’d rather die.”

With that, you sprinted away, hearing a bullet go flying past your head.

All you had to do was get somewhere public, get lost in the crowd and go from there.

So all you had to do was get to the bottom of this building, which wasn’t an option with all the marines down there so you went up instead.

John was shouting your name as you ran, running over to the roof, then to the next one, and you jumped down a fire escape, running down the stairs.

You had the advantages of speed, and they knew that, if they lost sight of that then it would be over and you would be lost.

Ducking under the arm of a marine, you jumped down the rest of the way, rolling and you ran into the busy street below.

Weaving in and out of people, down to the subway where more people were and on to the tracks.

It wasn’t safe, but there were hiding places, empty tunnels that weren’t used anymore, so you made your way into one of them.

Creeping around, you crouched against a wall.

“I need help…” you whispered.

You knew they were here, it’s where the hid, and all of your species knew that there were a few who hid under the city for moments like this.

You heard some steps, and you looked to the side at the eyes peering back at you.

“Where to?”

“Just away from here.”

“Very well. Come with me.”

You were quickly taken away from the city, taken away from everything you knew, and taken somewhere else.

A different planet was all you knew, you were placed in a small and quiet town and given a home to share with somebody.

You were constantly on edge though, everytime a ship came in you were ready to run for it, and today was no different.

You were standing outside with the others watching as a ship landed, and you slowly began backing away through the ground when you recognised it.

“(Y/N)!” You friend hissed.

“I need to go.” You whispered back.

They glanced at you, then back to the ship, and you watched as the Spartans came out, two of them going to speak to the mayor.

You turned around, keeping your head down as you walked away, but you were fully aware that you were being followed.

“Stop running.”

You broke out into a sprint, jumping over a fence you ran through a field, and John nearly lost you in the tall grass.

You had changed, but he could see where you ran from the grass, and he began to track you.

You ran through the fields, heading for the mountains, John wasn’t far behind you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted.

He could see the gleam of your fur in the sun just before you entered the trees.

You kept running, trying anything to get away from him, he was fast, you were slightly faster, if you could find a place to hide and lay low you would win.

While running, you could hear him shouting your name as you kept going, and you kept trying to get away from him.

Finding a wooden bridge, you dug your paws into the ground, coming to a halt and you covered the tracks with dirt, then crawled under it.

You listened carefully to the sound of his steps coming closer.

“(Y/N)!?”

You could hear him on the wooden bridge walking around, then you heard him stop.

“I’m not here to hurt you or arrest you.”

He looked around, and you slowly backed up from the way you were going, crawling towards the other side of the bridge to get out.

You quietly made your way out, and you stood up, turning your go back the way you came from and John was in front of you.

“We know you had nothing to do with the attack, you’ve been cleared.”

You slowly began backing away and he rose his hands.

“No, no don’t.”

John reached up, taking his helmet off and he slowly knelt down, placing it on the ground, his eyes studying you.

“Please don’t be scared of me…” he whispered.

He reached out and you turned your head away, a little unsure and he paused.

“I’m sorry…”

You backed away even more, and then ran back the way you had come from.

John kept coming back when he could, each time you would run away from him, and after a few months you had thought he had given up.

But he hadn’t, he arrived again just like every other time out of uniform, and he walked over to where you were standing in your front garden.

You began backing away.

“I know you’re going to runaway, but I have something for you.”

He slowly reached his hand into his pocket and pulled something out, setting it down on the floor, then he backed away.

“I’ll be here for a few hours until the last ship goes back to reach.”

With that he walked away and you walked over to pick up what he had left.

It didn’t seem like much, just an ordinary hologram, but when you opened it you saw it was a picture of you he had taken when you were trying to teach him new skills.

You loved that memory, just you and him, learning different things and just having fun.

You turned it off, putting it in your pocket, and you went back to what you were doing.

John didn’t wonder too far, he stayed nearby, hoping maybe you would come and talk to him, but you didn’t seem to show any interest in it.

You knew he was still there nearby, and after a while of ignoring him you nervously approached him.

John looked at you as you walked over, but you seemed a little bit nervous, and possibly scared.

“Will you come back?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“It’s not safe for me there…”

“It is, I promise. We had you cleared of all chargers and they’ll reinstate you.”

“So what? I can be blamed again when a shifter does something wrong?”

“No. So you can come back.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not coming back, stop coming here.”

You went to walk away and John shot forward, taking your hand and he walked around you.

“I miss you…” he mumbled.

You stayed quiet, and you looked at his hand that was still holdings yours, and you noticed is bruised knuckles.

“You should be more careful…”

John sighed.

“I’m sorry… I should have done more to protect you… to stand up for you…”

“People don’t trust me, that’s okay…”

“It’s not. I trust you. I know you would never do anything like that, but I was made to follow orders, I should have questioned them but I did. And now I’ve ran you away…”

You sighed slightly.

John took your arm, and he ran his thumb along the scar going across it, from where you had hurt yourself trying to get away from him.

“I made you scared of me…”

John leant down, kissing the top of your head.

“I really am sorry…”

With that he let go, and he made his way back down the street.

“I’m not scared of you…”

He stopped.

“I guess I’m just… I’m scared it’ll happen again…”

He turned around and walked over over, taking your face between his hands.

“If it does I’ll be right by your side I promise…”

“You’ll have to follow orders.”

“I don’t care. I will stand by you.”

“John…”

“I love you.”

You blinked a little in shock.

“I love you.” He repeated.

John leant down, brushing his lips against yours before he pulled away.

His eyes searched yours and you sighed a little bit, tucking your head under his chin because you couldn’t stay away from him.

You had always felt safer with him, and right now you felt safest in his arms standing there.

John held you tightly, a hand on the back of your head.

He knew it was going to take a while to get you to feel safe enough to come back to reach, and if that meant he had to keep going back that’s what he was going to do.

He has screwed up big time, now he had to make it up to you

[ghostlychief]

OKIE, HI LOVE, I'm so excited. I would like to request Touch-starved! John. John, who didn't realize how it felt to be loved. John, who didn't know how nice it felt to be wanted for being just him. John, who's never had a hug in his life, stiffing when his partner gave him a hug before realizing how comforting it was. John, who doesn't know how to hug his partner back and is scared he'll hurt them.

Okay i love this idea so much. YOUR MIND CONTINUES TO AMAZE ME. Because John would TOTALLY be like this at first. Love touch-starved!John. For some reason the concept of the song Drops of Jupiter popped into my head when i thought of this John. I hope you enjoy what i threw together, and hope you're doing well <3

---

Drops of Jupiter

John-117/Master Chief x reader

no warnings, just fluff!

---

John’s life can really only be measured by statistics, measured quantitatively. From the moment he was found on Eridanus II by Dr. Halsey, his life started to have meaning in the way of numbers. How fast was he growing? How much did he weigh? How much could he lift? Those numbers became one of the most important thing in his life. Besides that, he didn’t have much else to count for. His sole purpose was to train and become the best Spartan II the UNSC has ever seen.

That was until he decided to remove the hormonal pellet, lodged in the center of his lower back, resting in between his spine. Who knew how much power rested in something smaller than a quarter?

This pellet repressed his moods, making sure he was only ever objective, the thought of subjectivity a sin. It also dimmed hormones a normal person experiences in their every day life. Such as, the longing touch of a loved one. Or, the hope to feel accepted by one’s peers. These suppressors were supposed to make the ultimate, elite solider. It was supposed to help aid the Spartan’s on the battle field by making them mission oriented. Act first, ask questions later. As long as the mission was complete and a success, not much else mattered.

At first, John felt disoriented. He felt unbalanced by the new coming of emotions and hormones that spiraled around in his body. There was a crash of emotions washing over his entire body that he forgot he felt before, in a distant past life he wasn’t even sure really existed. It felt rickety, yet exciting. Everything seemed brand new to him. The clouds looked different, the grass brighter, the sun felt warm against his skin. He appreciated the stars that blanketed the sky on a moonless night.

For once, he felt like he completed the orbit around what his life was really about. He finally understood. Life wasn’t just about missions and killing the Covenant. No, there was so much more to it and he finally felt like he touched back home after a long, grueling journey, pulled down by the gravity of the new world he found himself in.

Shortly after his pellet was removed, he met you. You were a linguistic technician that worked closely with many of the people John worked with. You were an expert in Sangheili, which became a hot commodity skill to have in the impending months leading up to the human/Covenant war. John had actually crossed paths with you before, only in passing, but you have met, though not officially.

The day you sat across from him in the cafeteria was Johns’s first encounter with you since feeling different, feeling new. You were already half way seated when you asked, “Mind if I sit here?” John looked up at you, brows furrowed and nodded, but at this point you were already sat down at the table.

“I’d like to pick your brain about something if you don’t mind?” Your sweet voice traveled across to John in the noisy cafeteria and he found himself staring at you for a second before he mentally shook his head. “Sure?” He was still perplexed why you were here sitting with him. Usually no one approached the Spartans unless they were instructed to do so.

“Okay, so I’m in the linguistics department, specifically Sangheili, and I wanted to ask you about the encounters you’ve had with the Sangheili, specifically the higher ranked Sangheili.”

John felt himself slightly smiling at your rambling, but he made sure to hide it from you. He cleared his through them said, “Yeah, I remember you. We met in passing a couple years ago.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! I didn’t think you’d remember.” This time John made sure you noticed his smile, “Spartans have eidetic memory.”

“Ah, that’s right. Well, that’s good for all the questions I have for you then.” You then proceeded to talk to John about the Sangheili culture and how it related to their patterns of speech for the next two hours, time slipping away, fast through your fingers.

After that, John always felt a pull towards you, seemingly stuck in your orbit. If neither of you were on duty, you’d usually end up going on long walks. John told you about his past, like what it was like being in the Spartan program, and other adventures, like his mission on the Halos. You never interrupted him, and typically had follow-up questions, always curious to learn more about him.  

The first time you touched him was when he was explaining how he was taken as a child by Dr. Halsey to be entered into the Spartan program. You rested your hand on his bicep, and your fingers slowly rubbed back and forth in a comforting notion. He at first stiffened, but then soon relaxed under your enchanting touch, longing to feel it again after you left his quarters that night.

He started to see more and more of you, and his feelings slowly and quietly developed into something akin to love, though he was never really sure what that word meant. Not until you. He imagined what love might have been, but could never quantify it since love never dealt in numbers or absolutes. It was abstract, confusing, with no concrete answer to it.

Though all of these new emotions felt confusing at times, John never felt confused by you. You simply loved him, not Master Chief or John-117, just John. Slowly but surely, John felt more comfortable with you, emotionally and also physically. Although Spartans are massive in their stature, people still forget how freakishly strong they actually are. Such as, John can easily flip over a Warthog. So, in dealing with you, he was extra cautious.

The first time you wrapped your arms around his middle in a bone crushing hug, he was worried about hugging back, afraid he would crush you, hurt you. He doesn’t remember ever receiving a hug like that, and he wanted to savor it, and feel it over and over again. Once he realized that he wasn’t going to hurt you, he would always pull you into random hugs through out the day, comforted by your beating heart against his.

John’s life, once measured only in numbers, in quantity, now could be measured by so much more. He was lucky, after all.

---

[silly-little-block-people]

OK so. I had an idea...

I've seen some people (at least a while ago) who headcanoned c!Skizz as at least partially a robot

And I started seeing him like that too, just...my silly little guy...he's a robot guy...

And so I started thinking of more things

Like how I headcanon him to also have, like...some angel hybrid DNA spliced into him (cuz I'm indecisive.../VERYSILLY)

And how his robo-halo probably floats using, like, a magnetic field or something

Or like how his wings probably fold and unfold from compartments between his shoulder blades and back for easy storage and stuff (kinda like a Transformer)

And that made me think of an incorrect quote:

Skizz: it's pride month, Gemmy Bemmy, you know what that means

Gem: huh. what. Do you want me to, like. Build gay fish? what-

Skizz: *extends robo angel wings and robo halo, they're glowing in rgb* ya like it? Top helped me hook it up :3

Gem: I- yeah, Skizz, that's very cool

[kaisollisto]

(Based off of the reality of having a metal ring in your back as a constant reminder of your fate and how that affects you as a person set in the Switzerland arc)

“Does it hurt?” 

Ava’s pressed face down into the pillow sleep curling around her limbs. She hums, she can’t remember what she says, she’s exhausted. Her arms are tangled beneath her pillow. She holds her fingers tightly between each other, her bones ache from the pressure but her hands no longer shake. Ava hasn’t experienced this before, a fear that haunts her at night. (She finds she cannot stop dreaming about dying. It’s stifling in the cover of night trying to figure out where she is.) 

She slowly opens her eyes and squints in the darkness. Beatrice is facing her a furrow in her brow that Ava knows she’s doing unconsciously. Ava’s lip quirks a smidgen, Beatrice looks funny. It’s a bit silly to her, Beatrice no doubt working out a solution to an unknown problem that Ava has yet to see in the middle of the night. In her sleepy state she wants to laugh at the imaginary cogs churning in Beatrice’s head. 

Beatrice scooches closer and Ava panics, her skin can taste the dust of Bea’s forearm. She hoists herself up on her elbows, turning to face Beatrice. “Wha?” Ava’s shaking off bits of sleep from her mouth when Beatrice repeats herself. 

“Does the Halo hurt?” 

She doesn’t know if she wants to answer that. Ava peers over Beatrice squinting at the harsh light of the digital clock on Beatrice’s side. Ava loves it, it reminds her of the early 2000’s and the aesthetic of waking up to an alarm to go somewhere. The clock blinks an innocent 1:43 Am, and Ava debates on letting her head thump back down. 

She turns her body on her side, she can feel the halo shifting in her back and it makes her want to throw up. The sides of the halo press against her shoulder blades and Ava resists the urge to yank it out. She grits her teeth and settles ignoring the skin of her back pulling tight to accommodate for the ring. Beatrice is still expecting an answer and Ava can’t lie to her, she pulls the covers of the sheet up to her chest hoping to bide more time for an answer. 

"Everything hurts Bea," Ava smiles, "getting my ass handed to me is hard work."

Beatrice frowns displeased but looks at her through her lashes, it's unguarded, the stress and worries of the world stay out of their room in the dead of night. Her lashes are so pretty and Ava wants to curse the soft glow of the moon. There’s just enough moonlight to illuminate her eyes but overshadow her freckles. Ava swallows down the taste of defeat, she can’t win, she thinks. 

Her gaze is soft, Beatrice is looking at her and it’s different yet the same. The same feeling in her chest constricting her lungs, the same soft gaze of Beatrice. Beatrice who likes what she sees in Ava when Ava can barely see where she begins. She doesn’t like to dwell on it, the truth of the matter being what belongs to Ava.

If she closes her eyes she can pretend just a little longer. She can give herself the hope of the future and what comes after all this. She can put down the fighting and the artifact and live. Ava doesn't want to think about it anymore, at least not tonight when Beatrice is here with her. 

Beatrice is soft. She knows it from hours and hours of training. She's felt it when Beatrice corrects her form, in the way she talks. She speaks from a place of care like she has turned the harsh words in her brain over and over to soften the syllables spoken to Ava. And Ava doesn't linger on it, the meaning behind it, (Ava didn't think she'd make it this far, finding a person who cares quite like Bea does.)

And Ava's got it bad, she knows she's fucked because Beatrice doesn’t say anything about her language and Ava can't not tell her the truth. She looks down, her hand fiddling with the bed sheet underneath them. 

"It doesn't hurt," if she thinks about it she can feel the fibers of the cotton between the pads of her fingers. "But it's very uncomfortable." She doesn't want to find the response in Beatrice's eyes, content to hear it from her voice. The soft British lilting accent that holds her just as soft as a touch. 

She waits, she can picture Bea’s mannerisms with her eyes closed but maybe she should check just to be sure. Ava peers up at Beatrice and she’s suddenly closer. Her eyes really are pretty, there’s a depth to them that Ava wants to spend an ungodly amount of time studying.

“Can I help?” (part 2)