#anticipate relevant headcanons ! let the good times roll..

[awake-my-oceans]

Kaito as the detective and shin as the Kid (shrinking optional)

(Send me an AU and I’ll tell you five headcanons about it)

Robin, you‘ve talked about how the Phandom makes you write like you‘re possessed, and I‘m starting to get what you mean. Literally nothing in DCMK comes to me without it turning into A Monster. Anyways, roleswap Kaito and Shinichi!

Ok so the thing is this could actually work with canon backstories. Kaito’s whole thing is about honoring his dad and catching the guys who killed him, which translates fairly easily into detective work—particularly if he doesn’t know about the Kaitou Kid bit right away. Shinichi is……a bit harder, but he canonically rolls with the weirdest stuff. If you get the right setup, him being Kaitou KID isn’t that much of a stretch.

I know it’s headcanon time but shhhh this is an interesting premise and I have to figure out how we got here.

Ok, so Kaito doesn’t always pick up nuanced crime scene clues, but he reads people really really well. So when he accidentally runs into Jii, and the mention of his father comes up, Jii winces, pained, and Kaito goes “what do you know you absolutely know something and I won’t drop this” and doesn’t let Jii rest until Jii admits that Kuroba Toichi was murdered. Boom, off we go. Nakamori Ginzo half-raised him ever since Toichi died, so it’s a reasonable jump to go straight into detective work. Kaito can’t always read a crime scene, and frankly, the bodies are unsettling to the point of nausea, but he sure can read everyone’s reactions to the body, and, well, some people are only pretending to grieve. What does this madlad do? Does he teach himself to carefully examine all evidence for clues? Well, yes, but that comes later. Right now, he jumps straight into impersonating the deceased’s voice and mannerisms and accusing everyone and, well, people do tend to have nervous breakdowns and confessions when suddenly confronted with their victim’s ghost. Good, Kaito thinks, remembering how much he’s mourned his father. They deserve it.

Off he goes. He’ll get more and more relevant information over time, but that’s about as slow-burn as canon. Meanwhile, he’s making a name for himself as a medium for the dead.

Meanwhile Shinichi’s come across the reports of Kuroba Toichi’s death, and, well, this is definitely a cover up. A few too-close runs later, he realizes it was a cover up from inside the legal system, and that those people are still very much in power. He has a crisis for all of like two days before realizing that Sherlock Holmes took a legally “flexible” approach to confronting in-house corruption, and, well, if Sherlock Holmes can do it then he can too. Sufficient off-the-record digging, plus talking with his dad (who is also, ah, legally flexible), brings up the whole Kaitou Kid thing and look, playing Kaitou Kid was supposed to be a one-time thing to bait people out of the woodwork, but one thing led to another, and here Shinichi is, moonlighting as a dead thief.

Shinichi isn’t more than competent at magic tricks, but he has a few things in his favor here. 1) both Agasa and Jii are helping him, and their team up is a force to behold. Jii keeps the ideas practical, and Agasa makes the ideas work. 2) Shinichi’s dad absolutely knew the last Kaitou Kid inside out, and he’s giving Shinichi helpful pointers. 3) Shinichi may not be good at doing magic, but he’s absolutely incredible at reading and anticipating the police, having a flawless alibi, and leaving no evidence on-scene. Plus, he’s still working his “day job” as a detective, so he also gets stupidly easy access to department gossip, security layouts, and other classified information.

Headcanon time!

Kaito has his beginning of canon meltdown of “EXCUSE ME, this thief is claiming to be the best magician around and he’s WRONG because my DAD was the best.” This is even more vehement because his dad is a more painful topic overall, given that he was murdered. That said, he’s not going to give this thief the time of day because he’s got more important things to do, like catch the murderers. However, Shinichi-in-disguise is casing a building when someone gets murdered there, and Kaito’s like “what is up with this guy.” Shinichi does pause and lend a hand when Kaito gets stuck, because murder is murder no matter what face he’s wearing. After the case is solved, Kaito’s trying to figure out who on earth this is when he realizes it’s Kaitou Kid. But the guy did just help solve a murder. And when he snarls that his father was the better magician, Kaitou Kid just bows his head and agrees. So Kaito has no idea what to make of this dude. Meanwhile Shinichi’s inner dialogue is just “it’s Toichi’s kid, does he know—NOPE HE SURE DOESN’T, UH, WHAT DO I DO??!”

Kaitou Kid respecting Toichi and admiring Kaito’s magic is a recurring thing, much to Kaito’s bemusement. Like. He can tell that it’s genuine, not a way to throw him off guard, although it’s sure doing that, too. One time Kaitou Kid pauses a heist to help with a case, which leads to Kid almost getting caught. Kaito’s still got a lot of complicated feelings around Kid, but it’s not fair that Kid’s getting arrested just because he had the decency to help stop a murderer. So Kaito covers for Kid with a rather good magic trick that “Kid” performs. Kid escapes, but not before giving Kaito the strangest layered look Kaito’s ever seen. He doesn’t even know what was in all those layers, just that there was a lot of grief and that there were upwards of ten layers in there.

Kaito and Shinichi catch onto each other faster than in canon. This is mainly because their weak spots are more obvious to an expert—Kaito’s definitely not talking to ghosts to solve cases, thinks Shinichi the Savior of the Police Force, and Kid’s definitely got a hidden agenda that’s only almost perfectly covered up, thinks Kaito the Undisputed Expert of Poker Face. Kaito has a very rough go of things when he finds out in rapid succession that 1) Kid’s trying to hunt down murderers via a system that might actually be stranger than talking to “ghosts,” 2) Kid’s looking for who killed Kuroba Toichi specifically, and 3) Kuroba Toichi was actually the original Kid. After that, Kid being a teenage detective is just—whatever. Sure. Why not.

There’s a huge police betting pool on what will happen when Kudou “everything has a rational explanation” Shinichi, and Kuroba “I literally talk to ghosts” Kaito meet. Everyone’s sure there will be conflict—people are just trying to work out how it will go down. Turns out that they get on like a house on fire, but to everyone’s great surprise, the houses they set on fire are all criminals, and they don’t try to set each other’s houses on fire at all. Except for Megure. Megure makes bank.

Turns out that when you have two detectives and two phantom thieves on hand, things get done with furious efficiency. Kaito and Shinichi take turns being Kaitou Kid, depending on whose skill set is most useful. Kaito’s better at dodging bullets and at doing insane magic. Shinichi’s better at forcing the snipers to reveal themselves and at getting the police to notice exactly the right things about the snipers. On a detective front, half the Organization’s convinced that 1) their dead victims are actively sabotaging them and 2) if their victims don’t get them, Kudou Shinichi certainly will.

Honestly, from an outside POV, the back third of this series would just be “there are GHOSTS and we are going to DIE and also reality is bending anytime Kaitou Kid shows up—“

RIP to all the undercover agents in the Organization. They’re about to have a Ride.

[syncopatedid]

Kazetsuyo Novel Translation: Excerpt from Chapter 4: Track Meet

(Pages 170-173):

As the Tokyo Sports U track meet drew close, Kakeru’s mood was steadily rising in anticipation.

It’s been a while since he had competed in a real race. But even though Kakeru was confident he had covered his training very thoroughly, his mind would start to wander every night before falling asleep: Would running into a former acquaintance unsettle him and affect his concentration during the race? Had his race instincts gotten dull that he’d miscalculate his strategies? Could his time record which had gained him much attention back on his high school track team even pass for a college-level standard?

As soon as he closed his eyes, negative thoughts would surface one after another. Restless, Kakeru threw his blanket aside and sat up on his futon. 

Suppressing his urge to immediately get out of bed to go jogging, he adjusted his breathing in the darkness of his room.

“Be patient… be patient…”  Kakeru told himself.

Don’t think about anything else. Just picture yourself running. Feel the movement of your muscles throughout your body. Keep moving forward… 

Rekindling that fire, his doubts evaporated into thin air. Like Nira waiting to be taken for its walks, Kakeru was feeling eager again.

Aside from practice, Kakeru was also properly attending his lectures at the university. Kiyose had rationalised that “one cannot possibly produce results in running if they can’t even fulfil their credits”, but because Kakeru was fully committed to his training, he had been repeatedly turning down invites to mixers and gatherings. As for Chikusei-so’s other occupants, they were making a concerted effort to hit the qualifying time as well; as soon as school was done for the day, they would all head back to the apartment without delay to work on their runs.

So it didn’t take long before word of their activity started to spread—not only was the shopping street abuzz with chatter, even the students at the university got to talking: “It seems that those guys from that run-down apartment are training very hard for a race.”

The day before the Tokyo Sports U track meet, Kakeru had asked a favour of a friend who was in the same foreign language studies class to answer roll call on his behalf. 

“What, you’re taking a break tomorrow, Kurahara?”

"I’ll be running in the track meet, so…”

“Ah… speaking of that, I hear you’re aiming for the marathon, right?”

“It’s not a marathon…”

The ekiden is what I’m aiming for, and tomorrow’s track meet is the 5000-metre run, Kakeru thought to himself, but did not bother to clarify. 

Kakeru had come to realise a fact when he started university, that those who have no ties to track and field wouldn’t know the difference between a marathon and an ekiden. And when it came to the track meet, some would even look surprised and laugh it off as a joke. “5000 metres? Isn’t that just running in circles around the track?” they’d tease, as if it were some sort of bizarre ritual.

To Kakeru, track is life. To most others, however, a track meet is just another boring race.

The truth was a harsh reality, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a little complacent.

I guess not everyone can understand how big a deal it is and why we’ve been training so hard every day…

Hence with the present conversation, Kakeru was able to smile and casually gloss over the details. 

“Well… think of it as a condensed version of a marathon. Anyway, I’m counting on you, thanks.” 

“Just leave it to me!  Go get ‘em, champ!”

His friend had the sincerest expression on his face. Even though he might not understand Kakeru’s ambitions, Kakeru could tell he was cheering him on from the bottom of his heart.

That night, Kakeru could barely fall asleep. His rest was shallow, and his mind, sharp and alert. This is fine, Kakeru thought as he drifted in and out of sleep, sensing the last of his lingering doubts dissipating. After tonight, his transformation will be complete, and his body and mind will be in a state that is ready to run. 

He was feeling it—that feeling he had pretended he’d forgotten all this time—his fighting spirit before a race. 

————————————————–

Footnotes:

- And Kakeru’s uni friend makes his cameo! I’ve mentioned in this post before, I was really quite heartened to read that Kakeru seems to have other friends aside from the Aotake squad (he does get invited along to mixers and parties after all), so I do read novel Kakeru as someone who’s less emo than anime! Kakeru, and radiates a kind of “sports jock” vibe that draws people to him even if he’s not exactly proactive at making friends. Besides, he was asking this friend to help him tell a white lie, so I guess that takes a certain level of established trust?

The exact word they used in the original was “Yuujin” (友情), which is a formal word for “friend”, but even though this friend isn’t written as a “Nakama” (仲間) or even has a name to his credit, I do feel the choice of words over “classmate”( クラスメイト ) or “acquaintance”（知り合い… which, btw, was the word used in this excerpt in reference to Sakaki), hints that this guy could still be a good friend despite them not being on a first-name basis. I am reminded of the “Yuujin” in Natsume Yuujinchou and I draw the impression from Takashi’s close friendships with his normie friends, despite all of them still addressing one another by their family names. So let me just have this nice little headcanon that Kakeru sees this friend the same way as well, okay? :*)  

-  I’m also pretty delighted to learn that Kakeru takes a class in foreign language studies! Since he’s in the Sociology department, I would assume the guy could be taking (cross-faculty?) modules from the linguistics department that are relevant to his area of study, maybe Language & Culture? The question is, are we talking foreign languages in general, or is his module more focused on a particular language? If it’s the latter, my headcanon would default to the English language, since that seems like the most “useful” language for a Japanese to study, and Kakeru feels like the type who would opt for practical subjects that would be more applicable to the working world, compared to say, maybe Haiji or Akane, who might have deeper appreciation for languages as lit majors (or maybe Kakeru does appreciate them to a small extent, but they are secondary compared to his overwhelming love for track, idk.) But anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself here cuz the modules you take as a first-year are mostly introduction modules and are pretty rudimentary, lol. Freshman year is still the honeymoon period, you know.

- p.s: Haiji says to attend your lectures properly so you can win all the races, m’kay? #ThisHasBeenAPSA 

[mstique-blog1]

after some deliberation i’ve reduxed daena’s history irt location and time (bio updated!).  was actually the initial idea for her that i was too apprehensive to pursue on account of v little knowledge.. that is obv being expanded by research and !! amount of docs added to bbc iplayer recently on american culture..lucky..

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: just a few ways to say it’s okay

title: just a few ways to say it’s okay characters/pairings: heather, rebecca, rebecca/nathaniel summary: rebecca explains why she is in a terrible college shirt and that tree-climbing metaphor is taken a little too far (if heather is understanding it correctly)

notes: we have less than twenty-four hours before we get the new episode and I just wanted to write down a fun little headcanon about the Stanford shirt before it gets totally thrown out.

--

It’s Sunday morning when the front door of the Bunch-Davis household swings open and bounces into the opposite wall, shaking the frame of their newest art addition.

Heather looks up from her coffee as Rebecca stalks through the front door wearing yesterday’s jeans, a zipped hoodie, and a deep scowl.

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. Bad night for tree-climbing?” Heather asks, mildly concerned. The details of Rebecca’s new hobby remain, for the most part, unknown to Heather. She knows Nathaniel’s face and the fact he is Rebecca’s ex-boss, which is loaded enough, but Rebecca seems fine and has mentioned discussing the relevant details with her therapist and Heather isn’t inclined to probe further.

Rebecca plops herself into the chair opposite Heather, slinging her purse under the table with enough force that it skids and bounces off Heather’s foot.

“Actually, it was great!” Her voice is bright and a full octave higher than usual. “Really great! Lots of climbing. Reached the top branches multiple times.”

Heather pulls a face.

“Ew. Like, go you, if you mean what I think you mean. But still, ew.”

Rebecca nods as if she’s not really hearing and fiddles with her zipper, forehead creased in thought. Heather rises from her seat and heads to the kitchen to retrieve Rebecca’s usual mug. She fills up at the coffee pot before sliding it over to her roommate.

“Oh! Thanks,” says Rebecca, giving Heather a thankful-but-quizzical look, one eyebrow up, as she retakes her seat.

Heather shrugs. “You work at a bar long enough, you learn not to leave conflicted people without something in front of them.”

“Huh,” Rebecca eyes her cup. “This is coffee, right? Or are there some special ingredients that I should be aware of?”

Heather makes a point of rolling her eyes. “I promise I didn’t spike your Folgers.” She watches as Rebecca takes a tentative sip. “You’re in a weird mood today. You sure tree-climbing was ok? Nothing fell down?”

“No.” Rebecca groans and lets her head fall forward on the kitchen table. She rights herself and takes a deep breath, like she’s prepping for a case, which Heather still finds totally hot, boyfriend or not. “Nothing went weird with the tree-climbing, seriously. Nathaniel was just being a dick about me walking out in one of his shirts again.”

“Mhm,” Heather hums, because she knows about the (rare) cycles when Rebecca does laundry and she hasn’t missed the sudden appearance of too-large t-shirts in the basket. “I can understand that. Isn’t this, like, the fourth one?”

“I returned his dress shirt,” Rebecca points out, tapping her fingers against the mug. “And he only sleeps in the others anyways. He doesn’t need them. Look, they’re comfortable and sometimes, it’s just easier to stuff your blouse in your purse until you get home.”

“You could bring an overnight bag,” suggests Heather. “Or just, you know, set an alarm when you sleep over.”

“Like a routine?” Rebecca pulls a face. “No way, that would make this…tree climbing more of a thing than it already is.”

Heather doesn’t even bother to voice a response to that mess of a sentence, just sips at her coffee and stares unblinkingly at Rebecca.

Rebecca wags a finger at her. “Oh no, I’m not getting into that. Not yet. Back to the subject, I was able to…persuade him that I just needed to borrow one of his shirts for today, because the buttons on mine got pulled a little loose—”

Heather groans and looks up at the ceiling. “Less detail, please.”

“…long story short, he agreed to lend me a shirt, on the condition he picked the shirt I walked out in.”

“Uh…”

“I know, right? He has no idea how to dress women either, which led to this.”

Rebecca stands from her chair and gives a short, sharp tug on the zipper of her hoodie, exposing a plain gray shirt with red lettering.

Heather squints and cocks her head to one side.

“Who’s ‘Stan’ and why does Nathaniel want you to wear a shirt with his name on it?”

Rebecca looks down at her chest and rolls her eyes as she pulls it open wider.

“Oh, ‘Stanford’,” reads Heather. “Got it. That’s not that weird. I was expecting some kind of tacky graphic.”

“No, it’s much worse. I went to Harvard. And Yale. No way am I gonna be caught dead walking around in some West-Coast-Ivy-wannabe brand name on my boobs.”

“Right,” drawls Heather. “And you totally only thought up that phrase after you walked out the door?”

“Nope!” says Rebecca proudly. “I told him to his face.”

“Hm. That must have gone well.”

“I thought so. I mean, then he said some shit, so I said some shit—”

“Sounds mature.”

Rebecca glares at Heather, annoyed.

“Anyways, he gave me a challenge for me to take the shirt of my choice. I lost.”

“And this is the result…?” Heather trails off, giving Rebecca her opening.

“My options were to either wear this shirt in public for one full day, or under my clothes for three.”

Heather raises her eyebrows. “Of course, you swallowed your pride and won’t be sweating into that shirt for three days?”

Rebecca places her hand over her heart as if wounded. “It’s as if you don’t know me at all.”

“Okay, that’s weird.”

“Shut up. It was a weird conversation.” Rebecca returns to her seat, toying with the shirt’s neckline. “Isn’t it stupid? Like, so stupid.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Rebecca jolts and the smile falters and flattens to a thin line, as she looks back up to meet Heather’s gaze.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“You totally were. It’s fine, you know. You should have something that makes you happy.”

“But I shouldn’t be,” insists Rebecca. “Happy about this stupid thing, I mean. I’m stuck in a shirt for an inferior school. I should be offended. I can’t say this enough, it was such a stupid challenge.”

“What was the challenge?” asks Heather, before her brain catches up to her screaming “bad idea!” right as Rebecca opens her mouth. “Wait, actually, if it has anything to do with tree-climbing, don’t tell me.”

“If only.” Rebecca pouts. “No, he used his height against me. That stupid, stupid sexy sequoia is way too tall.”

“Wow,” says Heather. “You just made a tree sound like a term of endearment.”

“I did not!” says Rebecca, offended. She scrunches up her face, replaying her words back to herself, then blanches.

“No, you’re right, I did. Oh my god.” Rebecca slumps back in her seat, stricken. “Oh my god.”

“Are you okay?”

“No. Ugh, no, feelings,” spits Rebecca, rubbing her hands over her eyes, contorting her face. “Stupid bets like this aren’t a hookup thing, huh? Is this oxytocin again? Shit.”

“Maybe?” says Heather, a little alarmed. “But also, like, maybe not. You talked to Dr Damn about him, right?”

“About Nathaniel in general? Yes, but this specifically? No, but I think I’ll have to.” Rebecca covers her face with her hands. “Ugh, I thought was doing so well, too.”

“I don’t think you’re doing badly,” hedges Heather.

“I’m not so sure.” Rebecca takes a deep breath and straightens back up in her seat, regaining her composure. “But I needed that. Thank you, Heather.”

Heather shifts in her seat, uncomfortable at the fervency in Rebecca’s tone.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she cautions. “I mean, if you’re worried, definitely talk to Dr Damn, but, like, I don’t know what’s going on with you guys and that’s by choice, so I might be missing something.”

“No, of course,” Rebecca takes a deep breath and seems a little calmer. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna spiral. It’s just another day in the life of Rebecca Bunch in recovery. I’ll be fine. But let’s not talk about me anymore,” Rebecca makes a shooing gesture with her right hand, as if she can physically bat away the specter of her ex-boss and whatever unsexy feelings are attached to him. “It’s the Sunday debrief. Tell me about your night and Hector’s sweet ass.”

Heather pulls a face.

“Okay, please don’t ever say that phrase ever again. But it was good. We watched Get Out and screamed a lot. Nothing too out of the ordinary—”

Heather pauses, tilting her head in consideration. She had meant to ask Valencia something, initially, but Valencia’s dislike of Hector did not promise any enlightening answers.

“Actually, there was something that came up that was a little weird.”

Rebecca pounces on the distraction without any prompting.

“What was it? You totally don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. But tell me!” Rebecca scoots her chair closer to Heather’s and props her chin in her hands, like a child anticipating a treat. Heather watches her sidelong, considering.

“All right. You know that dating advice podcast Hector has with his mom?”

“Vaguely? Why?” Her eyes suddenly go round. “Wait, don’t tell me…”

“Did she invite me to guest star? She did. She wants to interview us together and see if Hector and I are incorporating any tips from previous episodes into our relationship, as well as give us some special tips she’s been saving for the occasion of Hector getting a girlfriend.”

“Oh no,” breathes Rebecca, clapping her hands over her ears, her shock cutting straight through horror and right to awe. “That is terrible. That is so awful.” She scoots her chair a little closer and leans in, eyes still wide. “Are you gonna do it?”

Heather opens her mouth to say that she hasn’t made up her mind yet, takes another look at Rebecca’s too bright eyes, and abruptly switch tactics.

“I mean, maybe? I thought it might actually be a good promotional opportunity for Miss Douche, if nothing else. I even have a pitch written up that’s perfect for an audio-only audience.”

“Oh my god.” Rebecca gapes, and then covers her face, unsuccessful in smothering her laughter. “Heather, that’s horrible.”

“I know,” says Heather, hiding her smile behind her mug. “You’re not the only one who might be having a weird relationship dynamic shift here. And at least your sequoia has his own apartment.”

“True,” Rebecca hums. “There are some pretty nice platforms there.”

“Again, good for you, but I don’t need to know.”

[absolutelyxosmittenxo]

Hey-o! I hope you're doing well. Might I request some headcanons on reuniting with Weiss after the fall of Beacon?

{ notes; firstly, a huge thank you to @rwbybwby for being such a beautiful human being and helping me. please check her out! goodness, please do forgive me in advance if I went overboard on this request. upon taking a gander at the concept, I promptly fell in love, wishing to provide more depth and emotion to it. thus, I expanded the boundaries given, and revamped this heavily. hopefully I didn't screw this up. thank you oh so much for the kind words and for requesting. thanks to my vitamin d deficiency, I am very exhausted, and have been struggling with inspiration lately. but you lovely people are always so sweet, I wouldn't want to disappoint you. I know my imagines aren't as spectacular as others, but this seriously helps me when I'm at my lowest points. as rwby improves, as do I. thank for you all for everything ❤ }

－ ＷＥＩＳＳ ＳＣＨＮＥＥ ⭐

⭐ What eventuated at the fall of Beacon was a downright traumatizing experience for those involved, cemented into the history of Remnant for generations to come. Vale was in shambles, reverting back to the hardly palpable dust mankind rose out of. Memories of the carnage witnessed first hand by innocents are vivid, becoming the source of nightmares for many. Unless one was antagonistic, none of it was remembered fondly. A friendly competition among schools turned into a massacre; Penny was ripped to smithereens; one of Yang's arms was sliced clean off; masses of Grimm overflowed; Pyrrha met her end, disintegrating into nothingness; the headmaster, Ozpin, was presumed dead; and then some. All of which lead to the very climatic collapse of Beacon, as well as the sudden separation of friends and loved ones. Especially you and Weiss.

⭐ Misery mercilessly preys upon many, yet you were safe. You were among the survivors who clung to the beating of hearts, treasuring your perseverance while mourning the unfortunate ones. Weiss was loyal to her teammates, sticking to their sides as you examined their well being. Despite whatever far from minimal damage was taken, they were resilient to the grueling clutches of an inevitable death. Sighing in relief, you would coax the lovely but icy princess, combing your fingers through her hair. But the tranquility would be severed; the founder of the Schnee Dust Company had arrived to whisk her elsewhere. And leave you behind on the scene of a tragedy.

⭐ Casualties were shrinking in significance; they couldn't compare to the heaviness overtaking your chest. You would be breathless, as Jacques manipulates your love as if she were a paper doll he could tear limb from limb at any moment. Her eyes are the mirror to the soul, which is longing to object her father, but she would abide by his commands. It peers your inner core, as you glimpse at the airship becoming airborne, transporting the young Schnee to where she uncomfortably called home. The stitches binding your parts together are in tatters, ripping at the seams. She would come back, right? A foolish though, you would realize. Yielding to the barefaced honesty of the situation, you would crumble, breaking apart as you express your sadness alongside all the other fortunate people who were still living. But truly, as you watched her depart, you swore you died inside.

⭐ Encased in the walls of the Schnee mansion, she wallowed in her bedroom. In her isolation, Weiss' mind would drift about, pondering pensively on a variety of subjects. May it be the soldier, Winter, the fellow members of Team RWBY, recollections of Beacon Academy, or other miscellaneous subjects. When you would become relevant, she would find herself smiling. Even if the bitterness swells, your distance only made her grow fonder.

⭐ Benevolent as a bumblebee, Klein would be supportive of the relationship you two share. The trustworthy and equally eccentric butler is truthfully gleeful you've elevated the girl's spirits. Coldness once freezing the descendant of Jacques and Willow would be a melted puddle at her feet, thanks to you. It just sends him into an even happier state upon presenting Weiss with a letter inscribed with your name.

⭐ She'd bloat with sweet euphoria--heck, the ice queen would pierce the heavens once receiving something from you. Regardless if your penmanship is grandly expressive or lackluster chicken scratch, Weiss' heart is touched by what the written note has to offer. Reading what escapades you ventured on and reassuring you were okay, she--with the occasional eye roll--would be holding it close to her chest in remembrance. Each time she sends a response letter, she smiles in anticipation to receive another from you in turn.

⭐ The Schnee family is a travesty, an imitation of something intended to be loving and compassionate distorted into a monarchy by her father's hand. Not willing to succumb to his wishes any longer, Weiss would be defiant to his tyranny, venturing outward to find her dear sister and beloved, informing you beforehand. On the trek to mend severed ties, she'd dwell on past times. How you've brought her lips upward, the sweet nothings whispered in her ear, your praise, encouragement, how irritating you could be. How you've grown together as people as a whole. It banishes any bad dreams looming over the poor girl.

⭐ Determination fueling you, you would be thirsting to gaze upon your dearly beloved Weiss once again. The second you were confronted by the snowflake, the Earth's rotation appeared to halt; ending in a standstill. You were stunned, she had grown so, so, so much. Refusing to wait anymore, you would collide, promising to never let her go once you've gotten a good hold on her.

⭐ Weiss would be the most happiest she's ever been within the span of her existence. Belittlement is excused for compliments, she wouldn't feel controlled. Your index finger traces along the scar imprinted over her eye, both proceeding to revel in appreciation you reunited at last. Loving looks are exchanged. And so is a harmonized kiss, as you can predict.

⭐ You would join her quest to search for Winter, urgent to recover the time missed after being apart. However, it appears such a thing isn't needed, as you instantly are thrown into the general dynamic of your relationship. Distance truly does make the heart grow fonder.