#i want him to drag that man around like an extremely battered but beloved comfort object is that too much to ask

[roomba-mangga]

force-feeding that man isn't enough i need this kid to wrestle with several hundred intense but equally conflicting feelings about him that are all telling him the solution is to eat him(self) alive

[circus4apsycho8]

more than a hug. | the batter x reader

Fandom: OFF

Pairing: The Batter x Reader

Warnings: jealousy, cussing

It was no surprise to you that the Elsen were very cuddly creatures. Not only that, but they were very squishy, too. You absolutely loved hugging the cute little guys! Who wouldn’t? They were warm, soft, and sweet.

The first time you had hugged an Elsen was after Dedan had finished yelling at the one. You and your beloved Batter had stepped out of the barn before you found yourself rushing over to the pitiful thing. How could you not? The poor guy looked like he was about to cry.

You were quick to scoop him into your arms. “Hush now. He’s just a mean old man. You did nothing wrong.”

He accepted your hug and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You hear him sniffle a little bit. “Th-thank you…hhh…you’re too kind.”

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled, hugging him a little tighter. You heard your Puppet awkwardly shuffle around, causing a deep chuckle to emanate from your chest. A few seconds later, you set him down onto the ground. The little Elsen had a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Miss, th-thank you and your…uh…friend here for purifying the barns. Even if it didn’t get noticed by the Inspector, we appreciate it…” he teeters off when he notices Batter glaring at him. You smack the Batter’s shoulder and smile down at the Elsen.

“You’re very welcome! Take care of yourself, alright? I think it’s about time we got a move on.” Batter remains silent as you bid the Elsen goodbye.

“I will! Good luck with…whatever you’re doing!” the Elsen wishes before the Batter grabs your hand and drags you behind him.

“Thank you!” you yell, waving at him before turning back to your Puppet.

“Dude, chill. You can let me go now,” you comment. He reluctantly releases his grip on you.

“What was that about?” he demands, looking anywhere but at you.

“He was about to cry, Batter! He was scared! I couldn’t just leave him like that!” you retort, rolling your eyes.

“He would have gotten over it.”

You sigh. “Sometimes a little kindness goes a long way, Batter.”

…

The second time you were cuddly with an Elsen is when you and Batter got stuck in the shopping mall maze. Batter was getting extremely frustrated and you just wanted to get the hell out of that blue hellhole.

So, when you and Batter found a lone Elsen who had claimed to be lost, you declared it was time to take a break.

“I’m lost,” the Elsen said, “I could make a fire with the boxes...to ward off the ghosts...but...that would be too dangerous.”

You immediately began to answer, but Batter pulled you back outside for a moment.

“Don’t answer him.”

You roll your eyes, growing annoyed. He couldn’t just boss you around like that. “He’s lost, Batter. We need to help him get out of here!”

“He can find his way out by himself.”

“Batter. He’s scared. Can’t we bring him with us? It’s only temporary. I can do all the talking, too!” you push, trying to decipher how he’s feeling. Batter frowns at your words, and not for the first time, you wish you could see his eyes. “He might attract a Spectre.”

And it was then and there you knew there was something else wrong. Throughout all of your travels, Batter had strived to attract Spectres so he could Purify them. Hell, he’d even shouted out to them in the smoke mines! So why was he so worried about attracting them now? Especially since they were much weaker here, too?

“Since when are you worried about attracting Spectres?” you grill, folding your arms and narrowing your eyes.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, clearly caught off guard. Shaking your head, you look back up at him. “Look, what’s up with you, man? This isn’t like you.”

“I don’t want him to come with us,” he answers. You don’t buy it, but at the same time you know he’s not going to crack just yet.

With a sigh, you say: “I don’t think that’s all, but I know you won’t tell me. Can’t he just come with us? Who knows, he might be of help!”

He remains silent for a few more moments, then: “Fine.”

You grin before darting back into the room. The Elsen looks up at you hopefully.

“Come on, we can help you get out,” you coo, smiling.

“Wh-what about the ghosts?” he asks.

“We can protect you from them. Trust me,” you answer before offering your hand to him. He takes it gratefully before you pull him up.

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he replies. You hear the Batter scoff quietly from behind you.

“You’re welcome,” you respond.

“Let’s go,” comes Batter’s voice as he nearly stomps out of the room. You roll your ryes. So much for taking a break.

“Ignore him. He’s always grumpy,” you inform, taking his small hand and pulling him behind you.

…

During your trek through the exasperating maze, you noticed Batter was considerably quieter and tenser. Eventually, you had decided that he would tell you about whatever was bothering whenever it suited him. He seemed to be angry too, if the way he was taking out whatever monstrosity showed itself. It was almost like he didn’t want to listen to you but did anyway. His stubbornness grew to the point where you just allowed him to do whatever he wanted with the battles, so you could comfort the Elsen.

And when, finally, you five reached the Judge, the Elsen quickly thanked you and scampered off while Batter spoke to the Judge. You waved at the unfortunate Elsen before turning back to the conversation at hand.

“Is not this publicity so effective and efficient whilst defying the basics of consumer marketing?” the Judge says once he sees you. The two of them are facing some kind of advertisement painted on the wall.

“For silkier hair: the meat fountains of Alma,” Batter reads, clearly unamused.

“Oh, you can read? Anyway, I am glad to have found you. Maybe you can help me unravel the mystery that fate has placed before me,” the Judge comments. He glances up at you and smiles before trotting over to you. You sit down cross-legged against the wall before he crawls onto your lap. Smiling, you pet his soft fur.

“It turns out that my brother has been living in this area for many years. He has a special affinity for colors of the cool kind. Unfortunately, I have so far failed to cross his path. I have tried to betake myself to the roof of the library, where he resides. However, I found the door closed. Even the long hours of intensive, repeated meowing and compulsive scratching did not do a thing.”

“Aw, I’m sorry Judge. Is there anything we can do to help?” you question, scratching him behind his ear. He mewls in response, flipping over onto his back in a silent request for tummy rubs.

“My request is as follows: if at the bend of a corridor you happen to see Valerie, give him my greetings.”

You nod. “Will do.”

“Okay,” The Batter agrees. “Puppeteer, I’m going to go speak to Zacharie for a moment. Do you mind waiting here while I do so?”

You’re mildly surprised, but you agree anyway. “Uh, no, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He saunters away, trusty bat in hand with Alpha and Omega following him.

You blink. “That was weird.”

“Eccentric of the Batter indeed,” agrees The Judge, “what do you think is amiss?”

“He’s been acting very…out of character lately,” you muse, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on.” Is he mad at you? Should you be doing something differently? If so, then why isn’t he just talking to you about it? “I wonder if he’s mad at me.”

“I highly doubt that. Your beloved Puppet could never be angry with you for long,” The Judge responds.

You shake your head, causing the Judge to glance up at you. “I don’t know, Judge. If I did something wrong, he just…he needs to speak up. I guess I should ask him about that, huh?”

The Judge nods. “If you truly believe so, then communication is the sole solution.”

“Alright, then,” you sigh, sifting your fingers through his soft fur.

A few minutes later, Batter reappears in the room, the Add Ons at his side. It was then you realized he didn’t buy anything because you were the one holding the credits.

“You good?” you question as the Judge reluctantly slides off of your lap.

“Yes. We should go,” he answers, although you catch a glimpse of his cheeks, which are…wait, is he blushing? You wonder what the odd merchant had said this time around.

Before you left, however, you approached the masked merchant standing idly behind the counter.

“Ah, buenos dias, dearest Puppeteer. How could I be of assistance?”

“Could I see what you have on you?” you ask. He chuckles.

“Of course, belle femme,” he replies, showing you his wares. You’d grown used to the odd nicknames he gave you.

You ended buying a few Fortune Tickets and some meat, placing all purchased items in your inventory before bidding Zacharie goodbye. Before you can move away, however, the merchant catches your hand in his. You freeze, watching as he lifts his mask ever-so-slightly before he brings the back of your hand to his lips.

“It’s always a pleasure to serve this little ragtag team of yours. Sois prudente, jolie fille.” Releasing your hand, he chuckles at your shocked expression, smirking as he glances at your stunned Puppet.

“Th-thank you,” you stutter before Batter places his hand behind your back and pushes you out of the door.

Once you’re outside, you blink a few times before you’re able to speak again. “Dude. What. The. Fuck?”

Batter shakes his head, probably both at your choice of language and recent events. “Language. I don’t know why he’s…” he sighs.

“He’s so weird. Wait…aren’t you fluent in French? What did he say?” you question.

Batter huffs. “The first nickname was ‘beautiful woman’. The second one was ‘Be safe, pretty girl’.”

Your cheeks grow even redder upon hearing the translation. “W-what? Really?”

He nods, remaining silent as the two of you continue to the park.

“Puppeteer…” he starts, voice soft.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking up at him. He avoids your gaze blatantly.

“I…” he trails off before continuing, “I think we should rest in Zone 0 before going to the park.”

You nod, the exhaustion of getting through the maze catching up with you. “Agreed.”

…

Once you two have reached the abandoned Zone, Batter hurriedly guides you past Zacharie, despite his greeting, and ushers to the upper levels.

“Which floor would you like to stay on?” he questions.

“Here’s fine,” you respond, sliding onto the floor. He hesitates before sitting next to you and dropping his bat onto the floor. You lean your head on his shoulder, causing him to tense up a bit before relaxing.

You hear him sigh again. “I’ve upset you, haven’t I?” His voice sounds uncharacteristically sullen for a man as stoic as he usually is.

“Kind of. I just wish you would talk to me. What’s going on with you, Batter? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

He heaves yet another sigh as you straighten your neck and shift. Batter looks up at you while you move. You end up straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. He stiffens at your gentle touches. From this angle, you can finally see his eyes.

You can’t tell exactly what color his eyes are, so you reach up before grasping the brim of his hat. He catches your wrist gently before you can pull it off all the way.

“Do you mind?” you whisper. “I really want to see your eyes.”

His grip on your wrist loosens before he removes it completely. “Go ahead.”

You smile at him in a silent thank-you before you remove it.

His eyes are a pretty shade of amber. They hold a kind of exhaustion that could only be obtained by fighting for something one couldn’t accomplish.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” you comment, smiling, “why didn’t you want me to see them?”

He bites his lip for a moment before looking away. “I am not entirely sure. I guess I just…don’t want you to see my…my real ones.”

“Your real ones?” you question, tilting your head slightly.

“Yes,” he confirms, placing a hand on your cheek. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t, Batter. Will you show me, please?” you ask, enjoying the feeling of his hands.

“Very well,” he says, “will you close your eyes for a moment?”

You obey quietly, pressing a hand against his. His hands are much bigger than yours as well as drier and calloused from using his bat so much.

“You may open your eyes now.”

Upon opening them, you find that his amber orbs have been replaced with four eyes. The irises are a deep shade of burgundy while the rest of the eye is a pretty crimson color.

“Whoa,” you breathe, removing your hand in order to trace the skin around his eyes. Even though it’s definitely unnatural for a human, he still looks handsome. “Those are even cooler!”

“You think so?” he questions, still unsure.

“Yes. I mean…I’ve never met anyone with red eyes before. I…I think they look even better than your other ones,” you confess, smiling shyly at him.

He studies your face for a moment before a teensy little smile lights up his face. “Thank you, Puppeteer. Thank you.”

You chuckle. “That’s what you get for having a pretty face. Now,” you lean back a little. “What’s been going on with you?”

His little blush is back, which almost makes you giggle. “Well…it has to do with what I talked to Zacharie about earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I…whenever I saw you hugging the Elsen or just…being affectionate with someone else, it made me angry. I wasn’t sure what exactly why I was; after all, you were just trying to be comforting. I knew Zacharie would have an answer, and he did. He informed me that…I should tell you. I wasn’t sure how. Eventually, he told me that…I was…jealous.”

You chuckle. “If you wanted a hug you should’ve just asked,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself to him. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you smile as you feel him return it with a relieved smile. He loosely wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You note that he smells like…bubblegum? Not just any bubblegum, but the kind that’s sort of stringy? Like the baseball gum. You chuckle, inhaling his scent.

Suddenly, he slides his hands up to your neck and he gently pushes you back a little bit, rubbing the tips of his thumbs over your jawline. You move your hands to his chest, right over his heart. It steadily beat beneath your fingertips. After that, your gaze sinks down to see his lips: they’re dry and chapped, but still so, so kissable.

The Batter releases a grunt before he pulls you forward, and your lips collide. He’s gentle and slow at first, testing the waters. When the two of you break apart for a moment, you go in for another one again; this time around, it gets a little more heated.

His hands slide back down to your waist, where he pulls your torso to his. You find your hands tangled in his ivory white hair. You feel him running his hands along your curves, to the small of your back, then retreating to your waist again.

You’re pulled back by the need for air. As you gaze into his red eyes, you recollect just why you love this man. He had protected you, tried to help you when no one else would. Even when he did get a little snappy, it was because he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of both the situation and his own feelings. It was there when you were looking at him, you realized he felt the same way.

He breathes your name, brushing a hand against your cheek again. You can tell he’s at a lost for words.

“I had a feeling you wanted more than a hug.”

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 44)

In the beginning, Weiss' parents had thought that Nick and Freya were just completely enamored with their newest grandchild as they had been with Winter, cooing over Weiss, begging to let her be put in their arms and care as much as possible, and taking her out to Candela or jetting off to the other parts of Avalon.

Both even went so far as to take year-long sabbatical from her research laboratories and leave from his seats at company boards, the careers the two never truly quit even though they were officially considered retired.

Weiss had fond memories of that time, if blurry, and frequently pieced together from holos and second-hand accounts.

Her grandfather's strong, calloused hands holding her, carrying her, and raising her up in the air, making her feel like she was Queen of the Realm. Her grandmother's voice explaining scientific concepts and events in history that flew right over her head, but soothed and entranced her nonetheless. The two of them looking at her with such love and affection they oftentimes ended up crying from joy.

And of course, there was the constant, bizarre but amusing mix of flirting, affection, and verbal abuse that characterized their relationship.

Jacques had complained, largely because Tov's predecessors only ever discovered the spontaneous grandparent-granddaughter trips AFTER they had stolen away in a rover or jetted off in the night, but Snowie placated him.

“Just you wait,” she said, “they're going to get sick of her and start begging for us to take her back, just like they did with Winter.”

They didn't.

If anything, as Weiss' first birthday got closer and closer, they started to get more demanding; ignoring the letters from their colleagues and constituents reminding them that their vacations were fast ending; sometimes even outright kidnapping her for spontaneous trips, with the most memorable incident being Frosty snatching her granddaughter right from her father's arms during a public photo-shoot, Tony flying overhead, and Nick holding her by her legs as she hung out from an open door.

Weiss remembered the holo clear as day: Nick effortlessly hoisting his wife and second granddaughter back up into the cab, Freya nestling her in her arm and putting a bottle into her mouth with her free hand, Tony extending his hologram out the driver-side window, casually saluting the crowds, an amused Snowie, and a scowling Jacques before he closed the doors.

Jacques had threatened to put in a restraining order after that—emphasis on “threatened,” as Nicholas and Freya were two of the most important, iconic, and beloved founders of Candela, and were all but untouchable.

He needn't have worried, for just a week after that, the allegedly invincible Nick collapsed in the middle of a busy street, all 6'7 feet and 317 pounds of him laying face down on the floor, struggling to breath as his wife frantically called for help as their granddaughter cried in distress.

In hindsight, the reason for their obsession with spending every single one of their waking hours with Weiss was obvious:

They knew their time was running out.

Nicholas spent the last of his days in a hospice, his wife all but living with him on-site, and his daughter and grandchildren dropping by as often as they could. Jacques made a big show of spending every single Uroch the company could spare in trying to extend his life, but if he wouldn't sign the consent forms (and pass every test that asked if he was still of sound mind), then the treatments would mysteriously flounder, be they gene therapy, cybernetics, or even the nigh miraculous “Life Serum” pharmaceuticals developed shortly after Candela's completion.

“It's like his body is just… refusing to live any longer!” was how one of the many baffled doctors had explained it.

Weiss had less fond memories of those times.

Seeing her titanic grandfather bedridden, unable to stand up or carry her in his arms like he used to, his famously strong grip getting weaker and weaker as time passed. The lawyers that frequently dropped by, going over his estate with him, plans for his successors in the organizations he sat in, rooting out and calling out Jacques' sneaky attempts at getting him to sign off more and more of the company to him before he officially kicked the bucket. Falling asleep in her grandfather's or grandmother's arms, then waking up back in her crib, or in her mother or sister's lap as they road back to Manor Schnee.

It was a slow, ugly death that dragged on for months, an extremely ironic closing chapter for the “Man Who Couldn't Stop Moving.”

He kept on living, however, “sheer force of will” being the only reasonable explanation anyone could offer. Weiss' first birthday neared, and at her, Freya's, and Nick's insistence, he was airlifted from his hospice, and personally delivered to Manor Schnee by VTOL, with Tony as the pilot AI.

(Because of Tony's already extensive record of independent behaviour, decision-making, and blatant breaking of and circumventing the rules—acts that should have been far beyond the capabilities of any transport AI—the CTC had been EXTREMELY reluctant to let Nick access his creation's source code again, let alone modify him to be able to fly aircraft outside of the city proper.)

She remembered sitting in his lap as Freya personally pushed him around in his wheelchair, Nick dressed in one of his favourite, battered suits—the one that had seen more than its fair share of accidents, transit mishaps, and the odd foiled assassination—smiling, proud, and happy as could be to have made it to see his granddaughter blow out the one tiny candle on her titanic birthday cake.

Then, three days later, at 2:37 AM, Nicholas Schnee breathed his last, and the next day, 10:54 PM, Freya “Frosty” Schnee followed him into the Aether.

Both causes of death were “Heart Failure.”

It was Weiss' first experience with loss—true, permanent loss, when grandpa and grandma weren't coming back, when there was no way life would ever be like before, when mom and her older sister became that much more protective of her, when her father began to be around less and less as he completely took over the Schnee Power Company.

Their last words to her were delivered by holo, made after they had returned from Weiss' birthday party.

“Stay curious,” Freya said. “Never stop asking 'Why?' Whenever there's a mystery, you don't stop until you find the answer.”

“Be good, Weiss,” Nick said. “Just be good.”

And now here she was with all her family dead or effectively gone from her life, giving away the last memento she had of them.

Weiss laid on her side, staring at Winter's Eluna plushie in the corner, floating in the center of a protective bubble generated by a carved stone underneath it. She had been the one to pass on one last night with the plushie, had been the one to insist that all of them lock it with their DNA or magical signature, so Weiss couldn't change her mind and risk damaging it in any way and drive the value down.

She hadn't realized that it meant she wouldn't be sleeping that night, too used to snuggling up to it before bed, her first night in the Valley and the sore-stiff incident aside.

Ruby carefully opened the door without knocking; she and the others had just finished their after-dinner meeting, going over their finances, scheduling their shifts so they could continue to help Weiss with her endeavours and training, and most importantly, making a budget for luxury spending so they wouldn't all go insane from boredom, or permanently giving up their creature comforts.

(Apparently, Penny had a paid membership to a “Mechanical Hearts” online community. What that entailed, no one asked, nor wanted to know.)

Ruby was careful to move around with the least noise possible, acting like she would on a hunt, or when she had infiltrated Manor Schnee.

“I'm still awake, Ruby,” Weiss said as she turned over on her other side.

Ruby flinched, looking appropriately enough like a deer in the headlights, before she relaxed. “Can't sleep?” she asked.

Weiss sighed, casting a look at the Eluna plushie. “Yes...” she muttered.

“I've got just the thing!” Ruby said. She scurried off to her many piles of belongings, digging through them until she pulled out a familiar looking plush toy with a scythe prop.

Weiss tensed up for a moment, until Ruby came walking over with her Keeper of the Grove plushie—very different from the ones from the Plushie Palace. This one was wearing a snow white coat, and the infamous mask was off, revealing a friendly face with pale silver buttons for eyes.

“It's of my mom,” Ruby explained. “Uncle Qrow said she and her won a plushie of herself this one time they snuck into Candela on the Eve of the Ether; it used to look just like the ones they usually sell, until he hired a maker to make it look more like her.”

“And you're just going to give it to me…?” Weiss asked.

“Well, yeah!” Ruby said. “But can I borrow her when I'm sad?”

Weiss smiled as she gently took the Keeper Summer plushie from her. “Well, duh? I thought that was pretty obvious.”

The two of them looked at each other, before they burst into giggles.

“Good night, Weiss,” Ruby said as she headed back to her nest.

“Good night, Ruby,” Weiss whispered back as she snuggled up to her new plush toy.

She wasn't as objectively fluffy, soft, and cuddly as Eluna was, but she made her feel safe and comfortable all the same.

Weiss was in her dreamworld once more, this time in her and Ruby's bedroom. The plushie was gone from her arms, the real Summer perched in the corner and watching over her with the Keeper's scythe resting on her shoulder.

She smiled and waved.

Weiss got up and waved back.

There was a knock on her door, before it opened. A familiar face stepped in, wrinklier than ever.

“Excuse me, but I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” said a heavily accented voice.

Weiss jumped off her hammock. “Grandma Frosty!” she cried as she run over.

“Weiss!” Freya cried as she waited for her with open arms. “Oh, look at how much you’ve grown!” she cooed as she hugged her.

“Sorry to say, you’re not going to get much bigger than that,” Nick said as he stepped in, ducking his head out of habit.

“Oh, hush!” Freya said, glaring at her husband as she let go of Weiss. “We both know physical size doesn’t matter, it’s what you can do with it—you of all people should know that!”

Weiss groaned. “Grandma!”

“What?” Freya asked, confused. “I was referring to all the blunders guts-over-brains here has done.”

“Like you haven’t made any screw-ups yourself...” Nick growled as he stood over her.

Freya was unfazed, craning her neck well up to glare at him. “Those were failures of which I was well aware of the potential consequences, unlike when you gave that Jackass your blessing to marry our daughter! I always knew there was something off about him, Nicholas, but no: when push came to shove, you just couldn’t say no to Snowie!”

“Oh, and it’s suddenly all my fault? You’re her mother, shouldn’t you have had the advantage in romantic advice?”

“YOU KNOW DAMN WELL YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE SHE’LL ACTUALLY LISTEN TO!”

“WITH ADVICE YOU GAVE ME TO PASS ALONG TO HER SINCE YOU CAN’T GIVE IT WITHOUT SOUNDING LIKE A CONDESCENDING BITCH!”

Summer stepped up to Weiss as the two began to bicker, a 6’7 battle-scared titan built like a brick-house, VS a tiny 5’1 ball of Hate, little less than 100 pounds soaking wet.

“Does this happen a lot?” Summer asked.

“All the time,” Weiss replied.

Summer smiled. “Heh. It’s pretty funny!”

Weiss nodded. “Yes.” She smiled. “Yes it is.”

Nick and Freya bickered, their voices unintelligible for the sound and the fury, both gesticulating wildly with their hands, before finally, they stopped and turned away from each other.

“Bitch...” Nick muttered.

“Asshole...” Freya spat back.

Nick sighed, and turned back to Freya. “You’re right, though, I was an even bigger dumbass than usual with Jackass.”

Freya turned back to him. “Yes, yes you were! But on the bright side, he did make her happy for a time, and gave us two beautiful grandchildren.”

“That he did, which is about the only good thing I can say about him.”

Freya's face softened. “I love you, Nick.”

Nick's did too. “Love you too, Frosty.”

He picked her up off the floor so they could kiss.

“And speaking of beautiful grandchildren...” Freya said as she was set down. “How are you feeling, Weiss?”

Weiss frowned and shrugged. “Conflicted, honestly. Also, I’m starting to realize you guys only ever appear in my dreams whenever I’m having trouble with something.”

“That we do!” Freya said. “It’s quite an interesting psychological phenomenon, that in times of emotional or physical distress your subconscious decides to split into separate personalities of sorts with us as the faces of them.” She sighed. “How I wish I were still alive to study it, and more importantly, offer you an unbiased second opinion, if you could even call this a second opinion at all!”

“Don’t we all, Frosty?” Nick said. “Anyway, what’s eating at you this time, kid?”

Weiss turned to the Eluna plushie, thankfully still just a toy in its protective bubble than the Fae Eluna trapped in a magical prison. “Should I really pawn her off?” she asked as she turned back to her grandparents. “It’s the last thing I have of Winter—of any of you. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do...”

“Well, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ in general is extremely difficult if not impossible to accurately, objectively claim given the incredibly relativistic nature of morality and--” Freya started.

Nick put a hand on her head. “What Frosty here means to say is: we can’t decide that for you, kid.”

Freya glared at him, before turning back to Weiss. “Yes, grossly oversimplified, only you can decide whether this is the right course of action.”

“Any way I can try and tell?”

“There’s numerous Old World and Avalonian philosophers who have attempted to answer that, but I like to subscribe to Utilitarianism: whatever benefits the most people is the ‘right’ decision.”

“Just be careful not to become like your father, becoming a monster all in the name of ‘Progress.’”

“The road to Hell is indeed paved with good intentions,” Freya hummed.

“Completely, super-duper biased over here, but I think you should pawn it and get Ruby a ticket to Candela,” Summer said. “It’s not like you aren’t all planning on getting it back eventually, right?”

Weiss nodded. “Right.”

Nick walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “Look, Weiss, life is full of confusing and complicated situations where it’s hard to find out what the right thing to do is, if it’s not just ‘Bad’ and ‘Worse’ like they say in the Queensguard.

“Don’t stress too much about everything, and just try to figure out how to make today a little less crappy than yesterday—it’s how we all survived and kept ourselves sane out there, when we still hadn’t hit the jackpot with Candela.”

“And be wary of bizarre, unexpected results and developments you couldn’t have hypothesized nor theorized about, such as falling in love with an overconfident troglodyte like this asshole over here,” Freya said, affectionately wrapping herself around Nick’s side.

“Yep!” Nick said. “Always knew one of these days me and your grandma over here would end up at each others’ throats, though it wasn’t exactly in the way either of us thought...”

Weiss cringed. “Aw, gross!”

Freya smirked. “You put the two us together, you better be ready for the chemistry.”

Weiss groaned. “Just get out of here already!”

“Alright! We’re going, we’re going!” Nick said, he and Freya smiling as they headed out the door.

Weiss sighed as they closed it after them.

“Aww, I wanted to see more of them being all sweet and salty,” Summer said.

“Easy for you to say when you don’t have grandpa’s very detailed journals burned in your head...” Weiss muttered.