#i want to take you far from the cynics in this town

[madtomedgar]

brand new colony by the postal service xiyao hours lads ;___;

[thebestofoneshots]

No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.1 | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Word Count: 8.6 k

Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them.

Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him).

Warnings: SMUT, Non-apt for Christians(?). Reader is a little cynical (or maybe cynical Af). Suggestive talks, touching oneself, fingering. Reader seduces a Priest (so whatever you might expect from that), hierophiIia, corruption!kink, praise!kink (if you squint). Consent is sexy!

 Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

ACT I: Remember to keep holy the LORD’s Day

You really didn’t want to go to church. You had one hell of a week and you were incredibly tired so when you got the phone call with your grandma inviting you to go, you were about ready to say no. 

But your grandma has always been extremely catholic, and while you weren’t anymore, you hadn’t seen her in a while, and you missed her. Her being in town for your short vacation was a good enough reason to visit her more often (she was staying with your parents) and if you’d have to live through a whole hour of some boring priest talking about all the things that are wrong with society nowadays, then you would. Even if you didn’t want to. 

That didn’t stop you from being cranky over the fact that you’d have to wake up extra early to take the 40-minute ride to the church she claimed “was the best one in the city,” according to her priest back at home (of course she couldn’t just ask you to the nearest fucking church). 

Breathe, you told yourself. This is for your grandma, you repeated as you sat on the narrow seat of public transport, next to the gym bro that smelled like he could use a shower and whose massive arms would bump into you whenever the bus went through a pothole. 

When you finally reached your spot, you had to wake him up so he would move his massive legs to the side and you could fucking pass through, walking down the bus in the sea of people that for some reason had taken the same one. Once outside you took a deep breath and tried to relax again. You didn’t want to look as pissed as you felt when you finally saw your grandma. At least it was a fucking cloudy day and you wouldn’t have to deal with the sun as you walked the 4 blocks left you had until you arrived at the church. 

Who the fuck would invent a church so goddamn far from everything important? You wondered as you approached. 

Oh, you thought once you saw it. Someone who wanted a lot of space then. 

The church was massive. And while you might have been prone to exaggerate when you were pissed, you were far from exaggerating now. It was almost a small castle, maybe the largest church in the city, certainly the largest one you had seen in your life (not that you had seen a great many but certainly a few). 

On the outside, there were very many intricate details carved, a few gargoyles at the top in a very Notre Dame-esque sort of way. Except while Notre Dame ended in a very square and neat way, the towers of this one extended far above the roof and ended in a pointy, almost menacing sort of way. You had been so absorbed by the intricate details of the tower, that you didn’t realise you were walking straight into someone. 

“Uhh sorry,” you said as you stumbled back, pulling your gaze from the structure and towards the person right in front of you. You were absorbed by him the second your eyes met his: golden brown, almost shining with the way the sun was hitting them. You weren’t sure you had ever seen a more perfect person in your life, they were exactly your–

“I see you’ve met Father Remus!” Your grandma said as she grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back from him a couple more steps. 

Father? He’s married? You wondered until you noticed his clothes, all-black suit, white necktie, she meant Father as in Priest?!?

The man –Remus– smiled, gentle, sweet and caring. “Nice to meet you…” there was silence. It took you a second to realise the man was expecting your name, and you gave it to him, fast and still slightly disoriented. 

“Come on, angel,” your nan said as she pulled you towards the entrance. “We can talk after the mass.” 

“Nice to meet you, Remus,” you said, turning up your most charming smile as you waved goodbye to the man. His eyes seemed to trail on your hand, but your grandma pulled you again, and you were forced to turn around. 

“It’s Father Remus,” your grandma corrected. 

“Right, sorry,” you said, almost carelessly, not carelessly enough for her to notice, though. 

“I’m glad you came, I don’t think any of your cousins made it.”

“Oh, it was nothing, Nan,” you said as you turned around to see if Remus was still around. He was not anymore, you turned back to her. “It’s lovely to be here with you.” 

That wasn’t entirely a lie, you liked spending time with her, she was lovely. But you did not like going to the church, you had long parted with the catholic ideals and you weren’t interested in most of the archaic teachings of the church. Especially the homophobic ones, you thought the closed-mindedness of the church was a terrible thing, and that it stopped many people from being who they truly were, not to mention how it affected a lot of people you knew. It was because of that close-mindedness that some of your friends had to hide themselves from their parents. Because god forbid their children were gay.

Now, not everything about the church was bad, some values were good and important, but at this point in the progressive world, perhaps the bad outweighed the good. And in the end, religions were just a way of controlling the masses, no surprise the church service was called “mass”. 

You could have made a list of everything that was wrong, in a very Lutheran manner, sent it to your grandma and never attended again, but she was old and you knew there was no way she’d understand, especially when she’d been conditioned to think a certain way for far more years than you’d been alive. So instead, you decided to sit through the service with her, and make her happy, rather than be the rebel you sometimes wanted to be.

Ah the service, it was boring until Remus came out. If you thought he’d look handsome in the cassock, you could have been awestruck when you saw him wearing that white alb. Yes, those Sunday school days had taught you enough. He wore a cincture around the waist that matched the alb, and you’d swear you deserve hell when you pictured yourself pulling the entire thing off him in a secret corner of the massive church. In the middle of mass, while the head priest kept talking about things related to Jesus and how he saved someone or whatever, you were thinking of calm and collected Father Remus, losing control and giving in to the lust of the flesh, and all of it for you. 

A small smirk played on your face as you thought of all the things you’d like to do to Remus, of all the sounds you’d have him make. Was it sinful? Perhaps. Did it warrant hell? Most likely. Luckily, you didn’t believe in hell any more than you believed in heaven.

And then it came to you. The idea that would certainly warrant a hell of a lot more than your lewd imaginings. If stealing was a sin, then how sinful would it be to steal something from god? To pilfer one of his men for yourself?

What an ungodly thing to do, so devilish that perhaps you wouldn’t be in hell to be punished but rather to punish. Was it perhaps a revenge for being forced into church for so many years, for having to sit through hours of Sunday School and the indoctrination you had to put up with but somehow managed to see past? Yeah. But at this point, you weren’t sure you cared. Something about Remus had sucked you in like a moth to a flame and you wanted to cling to whatever that was. Otherwise, you might have not be able to go through with your plan. 

It wouldn’t happen all in one day, it couldn’t happen all in one day. It had to be slow, steady, and repetitive, like the snake tempting Eve, like Eve tempting Adam. You hadn’t seen yourself as a sexy woman throughout your life, at least not the kind of Sexy Femme Fatale that men seemed to live and diе for in movies. No, you had never been like that, and you wouldn’t start today. But you would perform the most outrageous and strong act of seduction you had ever thought of and it had to be done perfectly, or you wouldn’t get what you wanted.

What was it that you wanted again? Right, you wanted Remus Lupin.

ACT II: Thou shall not steal 

“When was the last time you confessed?” Your Nan whispered as she leaned onto you, people were already standing for communion. 

You hesitated. “I’m not sure, Nan.” 

She hummed in return, clearly disapproving of your distancing from the church. You were sure she would have called you heathen if you said the truth, it had been years. 

“I could go up and confess now,” you said as you looked at the confessionary in the back, you had seen Remus enter it, but you suspected it was too soon to start with the plan. 

“No darling, repent for your sins and you can confess later. Perhaps after mass.” 

“Or during the week,” you said with a knowing smile. 

“Isn’t it a long way from your apartment?” 

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it anyway.” 

She stood up and took the communion, leaving you sitting on the chair and looking at the way people would walk toward the altar. Judging them, if that made sense. There was a woman who accommodated her breasts back in her seat before standing up, she threw a look at one of the other priests as she took the host. You gave her an approving sort of glance before you turned to someone else. Now you didn’t exactly consider her way of seducing appealing, but then again, yours wouldn’t be much better either. So to each their own. The man behind her had been touching himself in the very back of the church and had stared at her ass throughout the entire line, probably for more material. 

Sinners, the church claiming to be so saint, and it was full of them. 

You weren’t much better than them either, the difference is that you didn’t harbour the same hate towards yourself for it. No, you knew what nature was and you knew that despite how much we humans pretended to be better, we still were all animals. And there are a few things that animals want and need. Love, or the act of love, was one of them. That’s what you’d be using to your favour. 

When your Nan came back, you helped her kneel and do her praying; all the while you attentively looked around. Remus had left the concessionary already and he was at the front with the rest of the priests. He spotted you looking at him and you smiled kindly, innocently at him. The kind of smile someone with the thoughts surging in your head wouldn’t be able to give, and yet, you accomplished it seamlessly.

He gave you a courteous nod and you reciprocated it. The rest of the mass was as boring as you’d expect it to be; except for the fact that Remus was looking at you rather often, either he was curious about their new parishioner, or he was interested. Either way, you were sure you’d be able to use that in your favour. 

When the mass was over, you had to wait for all of them to exit the church first and then you helped your Nan stand and walked with her towards the entrance. Remus was there, giving short blessings and handing out some pamphlets about donations and other similar stuff. Your grandma was the one to pull you towards him. “What a wonderful mass,” she said. “Father Ernest was onto something when he told me to come here while I was in the city.” 

“Thank you,” Remus said bashfully, you could almost see him blush at the praise. What would a real blush look on him? You were dying to know. 

“Wonderful indeed, although I would have liked to hear your interpretation of the verses, Remus,” You said. 

“Father Remus,” your grandma corrected. 

“Oh, it’s fine. If it feels more personal you may call me just Remus, dear one.” 

You tried to hold back the snide smile you would have thrown your Nan had it been any other woman. You could call him Remus. You were a dear one. 

“Right, perhaps another day,” you added with a smile and pulled your grandma to the side so the next person could take the blessing. 

“I preach on Wednesdays,” Remus said, tone borderline desperate, as he raised his head over the people and women piling around him. Clearly, you weren’t the only one to harbour a little crush on Father Remus. It didn’t matter though, because you’d be the one to have him. 

Next Wednesday you didn’t make any plans, and you put on something simple but elegant. A squared-neck shirt and a pair of jeans. When you arrived at the church, you didn’t waste as much time admiring it, instead, you decided to walk straight inside. His mass had started already, and you sneaked in through the side until you reached the third row of seats. There weren’t as many people as you’d expect on a Wednesday, but Remus was preaching like there were hundreds. He was wonderful.

He had a way with words that made you want to listen, perhaps if you weren’t so cynical, it would even convert you. But rather than thinking of his prayer, you were thinking of how incredible he would be as a teacher, you imagined the students, squirming for him and his words in their seats. You imagined the older, more daring girls going after him. You were lucky that wasn’t the situation, the kind of woman that could seduce any man had the benefit of practice that you didn’t. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against them. 

But the kind of woman that went to the church, the kind that flocked to him at the end of mass, they weren’t a threat. They were too pious to try anything even remotely similar to what you had in mind. In fact, you even dared to think you were lucky that he had been a priest and not a teacher because then he would have perhaps been married, and while you were willing to take a man from god, you would never take one from another woman. You had limits. 

After the mass was over, you waited a few minutes before leaving the church “accidentally” bumping into him again. “Remus,” you said with a smile. “We seem to continue bumping into each other,” you added as you leaned closer to him and pressed your cheek to his, making a low smacking sound, and then repeating on the other side. He looked bewildered at the contact. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I got this habit while I was in France and I still haven’t shaken it off completely.” 

“Oh… No, no,” hesitant, bashful, you loved every bit of it. “Not at all, it’s fine. You can greet me however you like.” 

“Is that privilege reserved to me, or does every other parishioner have it?” He seemed taken aback by your words. “I’m joking, Remus,” you added and placed your hand on his arm, before pulling it back tentatively. “Your mass was wonderful.” 

“Thank you, I’m lucky to work at Saint Gryffin.” 

“The way I see it, Saint Gryffin is lucky to have you. I mean lots of women come here to see the beautiful priest Remus.” 

“You think?” he asked. Remus didn’t exactly consider himself handsome, he thought his scars would scare people away rather than attract them. But he sometimes failed to see past them and didn’t pay attention to his beautiful eyes, to his charming smile, to his long lashes, or to his well-toned frame. It was as if he had been carved by Michael Angelo himself, from your perspective.

“For sure,” you replied. “Take a closer look at the way they look at you on Sunday and you’ll see.” He blushed, a deeper shade of red than your Nan had pulled out of him, you resisted the urge to bite your lip and smiled instead. “Today was lovely, I’ll see you around,” you said before waving goodbye and exiting the church. 

You went again a week later, Remus would sometimes lose his focus on the bible and look at you instead. That day you had chosen a skirt. Nothing too short or indecent, but certainly short enough to allow your legs to be seen and admired. An older man hadn’t stopped staring at you throughout the mass, and you would have perhaps told him off if it hadn’t been for the fact that Remus had been in a similar position.

Remus’ distraction, his hesitance and his constant turning to you were enough to drive your attention away from the man and onto him. You would smile, and you would nod, and you would pretend to be a supportive little lamb. Innocent, and meek and kind. Just what he expected from you. And it was that Wednesday, the third time that you’d met him, that you realised you had him right where you wanted him to be. 

He for sure had a thing for you, be it curiosity, admiration, or a small crush. You had gotten his attention, and you had gotten into his mind. Now all you needed was to have him. 

ACT III: Thou shall not Covet someone else’s property 

The next Wednesday you had been late, you had allowed your hair to be slightly dishevelled and your cheeks were warm, despite the autumn getting colder. You had bitten your lips and you looked like you had just gotten away from a dire situation. You’d done it on purpose. When his gaze fell on you he almost stopped talking completely. He staggered to complete his words and you nodded for him to go on. When he was done, he rushed out, and you stayed in your seat. Eyes closed and hands clasping each other, pretending to pray. 

That’s when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, he whispered your name. “Are you okay, Little Lamb?” 

It took a real effort not to laugh at his nickname. Not because you thought it was stupid, but because you were so far from a lamb that you might as well have been the wolf that ate it. You turned to him, fake distress clouding your features, “I’ve done something terrible, Remus.” 

He was kind, almost impossibly so, it almost made you want to stop your plan and leave him the pure man he was. 

Almost.

“I’m sure there’s nothing you could do, that was as bad as you’ve described.” 

“I’d like to confess,” you said. “Would you take my confession?” 

Remus seemed hesitant, biting his lip. He knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t hear your confession, not when he wanted to maintain a personal relationship with you, not when he’d develop a crush. But it was in your preoccupied gaze, in the small frown that etched your features, in the way your lips curved down and in the bobbing of your throat as you swallowed. How ever could he deny you? 

Oh, those thoughts would be the ones that would drag him into sin, nay, not drag, but rather, waft him into it. If Remus hadn’t been so enamoured by you, perhaps corrupting him would have proved a harder task to accomplish for you. 

“Okay,” he said simply. And helped you stand. Guiding you towards the empty confessionary and sitting in his spot as you opened the door to the other one. It was a narrow place, enough for you to sit. There was a screen dividing the two of you, you couldn’t see him, but you suspected he could see you. And there was a small, square hole in between, enough to fit perhaps a hand. You assumed it was there in case you’d like to give something to the priest, as a thank you. 

Remus cleared his throat, and in the most professional way he could muster he said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. My child, what brings you to the sacrament of confession today?”

His voice had been different, stronger as if he was trying not to be himself. You loved it. “Father, I come seeking forgiveness for my sins. I have strayed from the path of righteousness and I seek reconciliation,” you let your voice bend and crack near the end. 

 “I am here to listen, my child. Let us begin with a moment of reflection. Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess.” 

You held back the smirk that threatened to appear when he said that, just in case he was actually able to see you. “I have fallen in love with a man I cannot have.” 

“Oh, darling,” he said, that was Remus, not Father Remus. You had cracked through his façade and you hadn’t even started. “That is not a sin. It’s happened to the best of us.” 

“But it is a sin the way I think of him, Father,” you responded. You heard a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t speak further. “I have dreamt of him, of his lips, of his eyes with long lashes, the way his hair frames his face, of his beautiful and strong hands–” Remus tried not to be jealous of the man you described, but everything about him seemed perfect, and unlike himself, he probably could have you. Your beautiful lips, and eyes, focused solely on him. He hated the guy already. “–sliding between my legs, and touching me.” 

“Do not speak further,” there was an edge of alarm in his voice. A bit of a broken end to it. 

“Oh but Father I must,” you said. “If I don’t I’m afraid I’ll act upon my feelings in the same way I did today while thinking of him.” 

“You…” he hesitated. “You touched yourself… Is that why you’re here?” 

“Yes,” you replied with a frown, almost a wince, all of it an act, of course. 

“Pray Our Father 10 times and–” 

“No! Allow me to relate my story, Father,” he tried to stop you. “I must, I must, or then I might go to him and offer myself in a terrible, ungodly manner and then I won’t ever be deserving of the church ever again.”

Frankly, you didn’t even know how you’d gotten so inspired, but Remus relented, nodding and when he realised you hadn’t heard, he bit his cheek and said. “Go on then.” 

You sighed, that was a real sigh, you weren’t sure you’d get this far. “I had a dream of him, Father. He was handsome as ever, and he looked at me, with such kind eyes, with such loving eyes, that when he leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t stop him.” 

Remus was already praying for himself. He did not want to imagine you in your bed, your hair sprawled over the pillow and your mind away in a dream, kissing another man. 

“I didn’t stop him when he pinned me against the wall, and I didn’t stop him when his hand dug under my shirt. I said nothing when it travelled to my breast, and I all but moaned when he pinched my nipple.” 

“That is enough, I get the idea.” 

“But that’s not the whole dream,” you protested, you sounded mortified. How could he stop your repentance for his own misguided thoughts? A man of God wasn’t supposed to harbour this kind of feelings for a fellow human, he was not meant to like you so much, and his pants were not meant to be as uncomfortable. 

“You don’t have to go onto the details–” 

“But Father, I must repent for all of my sins.” 

Remus sighed, “Go on then.” 

“And then when he reached down, oh Remus, I spread my legs for him rather than shut them close…” you didn’t say a thing. You could hear his breathing had gotten a lot more ragged. “He slid this hand through my knickers and touched me, that place that should only be touched by your husband. And… it felt good. I moaned his name until my voice went hoarse in the dream. I saw him pump himself and woke up as he rubbed his cock onto my folds.” 

There was a sigh of relief when he thought the story was over. “It is good that you repent–” 

“The worst part is yet to come.” You said, and you breathed. “When I awoke, I felt a wetness between my legs. My underwear was moist and the stickiness had rubbed onto my legs. I know I shouldn’t have done it, Remus, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. I wanted to know if it would feel as good as in the dream.” 

“Child.” 

“I reached down and repeated the actions the man had done to me. My fingers weren’t as strong or secure, but I found a spot that felt incredible, and I kept touching it, rubbing it, circling around it.” 

Remus’ boner was straining against his pants in an almost painful way. He wanted to let go, he wanted to set him free and chase his own pleasure at your words. At how he pictured you in your bed, sweaty and sighing as you touched yourself. You were so beautiful, he found innocence even in the way you sinned. 

“And then there was bliss, I thought I was dеad and had gone to heaven, but I came back, vision cloudy and disoriented. My bedsheets were sticky with my juices and I had to change them. I’ve been in a permanent state of shame ever since then.” 

“Let us pray for your forgiveness,” Remus said. And my own, he thought. Now not only your sheets had been stained, but so had his pants, just from hearing you. You would have relished on the knowledge if you’d had it. 

“Thank you, Father,” you said as you stood. 

“Pray tell me child, whoever is this man that has you in such an altered state of mind?” 

Got him! you thought as you turned your gaze to the confessionary. And almost in a whisper, you murmured. “Well, it’s you, Remus.” 

ACT IV:  Thou shall not commit adultery

Remus couldn’t stop thinking of you since that day. He’d get boners with the mere thought of you, with the idea of you going back to his confessionary and telling him all the lewd things you had done while thinking of him again.

He thought of you in the shower, and he thought of you in bed, and he thought of you while praying to try and take his mind away from you as well. He knew he was in deep trouble and he had no one he could talk to about his problem. 

He had avoided touching himself, but it was hard and it was painful to ignore the throbbing sometimes, and he had to give in. Gently brushing his hand on top of his trousers until either it subdued or he came, completely forgetting who he was and thinking only of your hot lips in his and your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you in the exact same way he’d had you in your dream. A dream that had now become as much his as it had been yours. 

The next Wednesday he was nervous. Bouncing his leg while he had breakfast and playing with his nails while he read the verse he’d have to give that day. His breath was stuck in his throat as he started to preach and he waited. And waited as he spoke and looked at the door and then back at the bible held between his hands and then back at the door. 

You didn’t go to church that day. 

Naturally, he was mortified. Thinking he had done something wrong, thinking he had scared you and thinking he’d pushed you away somehow. Thinking you were too scared to see him again after those lewd dreams, thinking –God forbid- you had chosen a different church to attend. 

So when the next Wednesday you showed up with a small skirt (the smallest you had ever gone to church with) and a simple preppy-looking sweater he couldn’t help but be both relieved and terrified, all at the same time. You had tinted your lips red, not enough for it to be lipstick, but enough for them to look raw and bitten, and while your hair was perfectly put together, and your makeup right in place, there was something about you that screamed danger. 

You sat right in the very first row. There were like 5 other people in the massive church that day. Someone sitting in the middle. A couple of old people in the back and a few others scattered around. No one young, and no one near the front either. 

Oh, what a terrible thing it was that you were about to do. 

Remus was quick to dismiss his deacons, asking them to go fetch something while he preached mass and they gave him a courteous nod while he started talking. As per usual, you listened attentively, paying close attention to the things he said, and despite yourself, often finding the things that you disagreed with. You realized he could barely take his eyes off you, and you slowly, spread your legs. Only a little, only enough to get his attention. You saw the way he licked his lips, and went back to talking. And you smiled. You pulled your ass back and opened yourself a little wider before crossing one leg over the other. You accommodated your skirt with your hand, slow and steady. Pulling your skirt up to show more skin before pulling it down and settling it in place, but only after he’d noticed, and seen as much of skin as possible, all the while, pretending to be doing it all innocently. Like you hadn’t worn that small skirt on purpose and like you hadn’t taken off your knickers and placed them in your bag in that public loo before walking inside the church. 

When the mass ended, you saw Remus disappear into the confessionary. Onto the confession side. You saw him look around and then get inside, nervous as if scared to be seen. Probably trying to run away from you. When you made sure that there was no one left, you walked inside the other side. He was hunched, elbows leaning on his knees and head hidden between his hands. You thought you had gone too far since he looked like he had been crying, but you quickly realised he had been praying instead. 

Sure, he’d have complicated thoughts, but your plan was meant to be fun for the two of you, and you wanted him to enjoy being corrupted as much as you enjoyed corrupting him. 

“Remus,” you said tentatively. “Are you okay?” 

He gasped and turned to the small division, he couldn’t see you, but you could see him perfectly. “It’s you.” 

Rather than replying you cocked your head to the side. “Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess,” you joked. He gave you a stern look from the other side, a reproaching sort of look as if he wanted to tell you how terrible it was for you to impersonate a Priest, but he didn’t speak. “Or should I speak of mine first?”

“Please don’t.”

“Then sing, little bird.” 

Remus huffed. “I’ve been thinking about a woman, non-stop.” 

“A church woman?” 

“I’m not sure if she really is a church woman anymore.” 

“A devil?” 

“No.” 

You smiled, “Then, what’s so wrong about thinking of her?” 

“I’m no ordinary man. It’s against my beliefs.” 

“To think of a woman is against your beliefs?” 

“To think of her in the way I’ve been thinking of her.” 

“Which is?” 

“As terrible as your dream, my darling.” 

You smirked at that, biting your lip so hard you might have drawn bIood if you hadn’t stopped to say something else. “So you’ve been thinking of kissing me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Of touching me?” 

“Yes,” he said, strained. 

“Of fucking me?” 

Silence.

“Have you thought of the sounds I would make, of the sighs and moans and groans?” 

He closed his eyes, a deep frown etched on his features. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I used your confession to fuel my imaginations, to satisfy my carnal desires to–” 

“That’s okay.” 

“It is not!” he responded, distressed. 

“Remus,” you said simply. “I wanted you to think of me,” you admitted. “I wanted you to think of me while you touched yourself the same way I thought of you while I did it. The same way I’ve been thinking of you while doing it, in fact.” 

His head snapped your way, he seemed mortified, but you could also see one of his hands being brought down, adjusting his pants. 

“Do you want me to tell you how I do it?” 

“No,” he lied. 

“Are you sure? I won’t ask again.” 

He looked to the side, red from shame. He bit his lip. “Tell me.” 

You smiled, “I lay in bed, and then these images come to my mind, I think of you, of your hands. They’re touching me, they’re everywhere. I don’t know where you ended and I start and I love every bit of it. It’s my hands that travel down my thighs but I think of them as yours. It is my fingers that slide in between my folds but I believe they’re yours.” 

“Fucking hell,” he said, his grip on the wooden latch, grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. You peered through the blinds and realised the tent in his pants. 

“Remus,” you said quietly. He turned to the wooden division, gaze strained, eyes filled with guilt, he was looking for you, but he couldn’t see past the squares and the small, shadow of you that got through.  “Touch yourself.” 

It was soft, the way you said it. Soft like a suggestion more than a command, but neither of you doubted it was the latter. And as if it had been a command from God himself, he listened and did what told. He patted himself over his black pants and hissed at the strain he’d been on. It was almost painful, how constricted and trapped his cock had been. 

“Soft,” you said then, watching, resisting your own temptation to dig your hand under your skirt. “Be kind to yourself, Remus, you deserve it.” 

He listened, and continued to rub himself, passing his hand back and forth and allowing it to help with the strain. “Te” –he stuttered– “tell me how you feel.” 

“The inner side of my legs is soft, incredibly so,” you said. “I get chills when I run my hands close to my core.”

 “It’s wet,” you said then. You had dug your hand under your skirt now. “Really wet.” 

He could hear your breaths getting sharper, he assumed you were also touching yourself on the other side and he could barely think properly, barely command his hand to do what it needed to do to help himself. 

“That looks painful,” you said as you saw him continue to rub himself over his trousers. “Take yourself out.” 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

“Touch yourself with your bare hand, Remus.” 

He seemed like he would protest, so you decided to give him some encouragement. You placed your finger between your folds and brushed over your clit, emitting a soft moan, “Please.” 

Just like before, Remus followed your command, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his boxers down enough so he could pull himself out. You smiled. “So beautiful, aren’t you?” you praised from the other side. He was long, thick and standing proud. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually placed his hand around himself. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’d forgotten how good it feels.” 

Of course, he had been a teenager once, of course, he had touched himself while feeling terrible for doing so and having grown up in a Christian household. 

“Remus?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, as he pumped. Slow and steady, as if he didn’t want to go too fast and show you how easy it was for him to cum at the thought of you. 

“You’re making me insanely wet, I might have ruined your comfy little chair here.” 

“Are you teasing me?” 

“No, I’m being a good little lamb that tells no lies,” you said in response. “Ah… fuck.” 

“What was that?” 

“Just thinking of how incredible your hand would feel if it were doing what mine is?” 

“Which is?” 

“Shhh…” you said. He stopped moving. “You hear that?” you asked. It was a lewd wet sound. “It’s my finger, coming in and out of myself.” 

Remus moaned your name and bit his lips. He came in his hand before he had time to really visualize you. “Ugh,” he said as he looked at the mess he’d made all over his hands, some of it also on his pants. 

You took a handkerchief from your bag and passed it over your legs, collecting some of the sticky stuff between your folds and then you passed it through the small, opened section. Crossing your hand, the one with still glistening fingers over. 

You knew he’d noticed the second his eyes opened wide. “So you clean yourself, I used it for myself too.” He bit his lip and carefully took it from your hands, and cleaned your fingers with it as if he tried to wash his sin by cleaning your equally sinful fingers. But he didn’t bring his cum covered hand even close to it. Let alone his cock. “What? You think it’s gross?” 

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he said as he brought it close to his nose and sniffed, stifling a moan with the fabric. Now you were the speechless one. “Do you have a napkin?” 

You somehow managed to pull a napkin from your bag and handed it over to him through the same place. He used that to clean himself and placed it neatly folded in one of his pockets. 

“Can I keep this?” he asked as he held the handkerchief between two fingers. 

“Yes,” you almost stuttered. You had never seen a man do something as ridiculous –and hot– as what he’d done. 

“Will you disappear again, angel?” 

“Angel?” you asked with a smirk, “I would think you’d see me as something else, a devil, perhaps.” 

“Impossible, a devil wouldn’t be able to show me heaven like you did today.” 

Speecheless, again. This man really could bring you to your knees. “Do you even want to see me again?” 

“More than anything on this earth.” 

“Fine then, I’ll come to confess tomorrow, how does that sound?” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

ACT V: Thou shall honour your Mother and Father

After the heat of the moment, Remus felt the sudden urge to repent, to throw away the handkerchief and to pray in bed until his knees were raw from how much he’d been kneeling. And he tried, but even as he prayed he knew how pointless it was. The act of repenting, of praying and being forgiven for your sins, only worked if you actually felt regret over what you’d done. 

But Remus was far from feeling remorseful. He had repented a great many things throughout his life. Not trusting his innocent best friend and blaming him for things that had happened, not doing more for the world when he had the chance and smaller, pesky things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelash about but that he constantly put himself down for. 

But having done what he did on the confessionary, hearing your small moans and the lewd sounds that you’d made for him, telling him what to do and how to do it, that he didn’t regret. On the other hand, he wanted to do it again. You had taken him to heaven and he was eager to see it again. And he did it, repeated the same actions, it was cold and dark and there was no one even close to his room when he pulled that handkerchief out and placed it on his face. Smelling the scent of you while he pulled himself out of his pants and jerked himself for the second time that day. He came with the thought of you at the confessionary and your name muffled by the handkerchief that he refused to move from his mouth. By the end, he was sore and delicate and he felt like he had pushed himself too hard, but he found the most peaceful sleep afterwards. 

When he woke up again, he was still covered in his own cum and he had to wash the sheets of his bed in his sink before anyone noticed what he had done. The shame he felt diluting as the sun rose, and he imagined you coming back to the church. He pictured you in that small skirt you’d worn yesterday, or in the simple dress you’d taken the first time that you went to hear his mass. But he was not expecting to see you walk in the clothes you’d worn. 

A white dress, long enough to reach mid-thigh, and made of soft sheer fabric layered one on top of another. He might have been imagining things but he would have sworn he could see your nipples perk through the thin fabric when you turned to him, a small, innocent smile on your face as you threw him a look and walked inside the confessionary. An angel, you really were an angel. 

“Pretty thing, you’ve come back,” he said as he too walked in, this time taking the side that belonged to him, he loved that he could see you. 

“I promised, Remus.”

“I know, angel. But I’m always scared I’ve dreamed you up, that you’re not real and that I was just imagining you all along.” 

You smirked and pushed your hand through the small hole connecting the two of you, “I’m very real, Remus, you can touch me.” 

He did, he placed his hand on top of yours and you heard a sigh of relief when his thumbs pressed onto your hand. He was careful and kind, passing his fingers over your knuckles and under your palm in a soft, gentle manner that was sending shivers down your spine. This poor man was breaking down for you, and yet he was the gentlest of them all.

“You really are,” he breathed. He didn’t know if he should be happy that you were real, or horrified by the things he’d done for you, of the things he’d do. His faith? He might have been willing to throw it all away for another chance to see you, for another chance to feel your hands, for your lips, your kisses. How could he believe in a God that had given him nothing, when you were here, willing to give him everything? 

“Yesterday I saw it all and you barely got to hear me, I thought of showing you my sins rather than describing them to you today, is that okay, Father?” That last bit was a taunt, in the same way you’d been taunting him since the very beginning.

“Yes,” there was no hesitance, if anything, you would have only described the waver in his voice as excitement. 

You couldn’t hold back the smirk that pulled from your lips, Remus’ breath hitched as you accommodated yourself in the chair. Leaning back and spreading your legs for him, letting the soft fabric of your dress fall in between your tights and slowly show the outline of your legs. 

“When was the last time you saw a woman naked?” 

“In real life? Never.” 

Your head snapped to him, although all you could see was the outline of a shadow through the dark-edged wood, “Never?!? Pictures?” 

“When I was around 15.” He admitted. “My best friend Peter once took a few magazines to school after the break. He said his father had gotten them for him on his 14th birthday and that he told them to take them back before his mother noticed. I barely remember them.” 

“Did you jack off to them?” 

“I stole a page,” he admitted with a bitter laugh. “It was this girl with a forest-green, transparent robe. I took her home with me, my father found it and he was enraged. He called me a monster and drove me straight into church.”

“The priest there took a look at the image, and made me kneel down on the rocky floor and pray for forgiveness. I don’t know if he forgot, or if he did it on purpose, but he said not to stand until he came back and he didn’t come back until 7 hours later.” 

“My god,” you said. Remus didn’t even think of reprimanding you for taking his name in vain. “That must have been awful. Your parents were terrible.” 

Remus shrugged, “It’s what I was used to,” he added when he remembered you couldn’t actually see him, although you could feel his hands tense at the thought. 

“That means, since then… you’ve never even–?” 

“No,” he admitted softly. “I guess it’s easier not to do something when you don’t know how it feels. Although my best friend was always eager to tell me how good it was.” 

“Worry not, you won’t have to use your imagination anymore,” you said as you pulled your hand back into your area and moved it to the thin strap of the dress, slowly sliding it down, he could barely see the valley of your breast, and yet he felt himself start to tense, his cheeks heat and bIood rushing south. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“But I want to,” you said, turning your gaze from your bare shoulder and towards him, he could see the mirth shining in your eyes, he could see the mischievousness and the licentiousness reflected on your pupils. You pulled the other strap down and then moved both of your hands to the fabric at the top of your breasts, pulling it down and letting them in full view. 

Remus breathed sharply when he finally saw them. Of course, he knew what they looked like, the girls in Peter’s magazine had shown him. James had described them, but that was nothing compared to seeing them in real life, it was nothing compared to seeing yours in real life. 

You smiled at the little to no sound he was making from the other side. You leaned your back on the stunningly carved wooden wall of the confessionary and squared your shoulders for him. “They look like this for you,” you said as you slid your hand over one of your nipples. “They turned hard the minute I spotted you at the door.” 

Silence, nothing more than a ragged breath. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You teased. 

“I had never seen a prettier thing in my life,” he said. “Except for your angelic face, that is.” 

You laughed in return, a sweet and soft laugh that he would have done anything to hear again. “You’re good at this for someone who’s never done it.” 

“Good at what?” 

“At making a woman blush.” You said. “But I’m just as good,” you added as you pulled one of your legs up on the small seat, your dress fell over and bunched up covering your core, but Remus barely even cared, he was immersed in the plushness of your thigh, imagining how it would feel wrapped around his waist. 

You heard him swallow thickly. 

“In my dream,”  you started, “In my dream, we weren’t here, we were hiding somewhere in the church.” Your breath had slowed down, one of your hands was playing with your thigh, the other one on your breast. You didn’t usually pay much attention to them, but it was that you knew his eyes were on you, that touching them, knowing how it must have made him feel, was turning you on even more than before. “You were kissing me –ah– you were touching me.” 

Remus was, by now, having to adjust his extremely uncomfortable pants.

“How?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “Show me how I was touching you.” 

You couldn’t even hold back the smile from your face. “You traced your fingers over my thigh,” you placed your hand on your bare knee, and then started to move it downwards, towards yourself. “You were kissing me here,” you added as you leaned your neck to the side for him to see better. And then… you touched me here.” Your hand was already in your core. You moved the ruffles of the dress to the side, allowing him to see, to see all of you. You heard a small gasp, when he noticed you had worn no knickers. 

“You slid your hands on my slit,” you said and followed your own instructions, “Soft and gentle, like you are when you’re preaching. In the same way that you moved your delicate slender fingers over the bible,” you breathed, a little more ragged now. “You slid one of your fingers in between my folds, and looked for my clit. You found it almost instantly, and you rolled your finger over it gently, you loved my whimpers.” 

“I do,” he agreed. “I imagined them while touching myself last night. Those wet little sounds you make when you–” 

“Ah,” you breathed as you dug your fingers inside yourself, your walls tightening around it involuntarily. “Like this?” you asked and smiled, biting your lip before you did it again. You brought the hand on your breast downwards and leaned back a little so you could spread your legs even further. Remus’ mouth watered, he wondered how wrong would it be to taste you?

To bury his head in your legs and lick all of the wetness that coated your fingers, to be so close that the smell of you got everywhere, that he wouldn’t need the handkerchief to feel you close. You continued to touch yourself. Breathing heavily, sighting and moaning softly, he wondered what that would feel if it were directly whispered into his ear. 

You were so lost in yourself for those first few minutes, so wrapped in the feeling that you hadn’t realized the lack of beautiful moans from his side. 

“Remus–” you said breathily, “Why aren’t you touching yourself?” 

“Yesterday at night I– I did it again… a couple of times. I’m, it’s a little painful,” he admitted shamefully, but your eyes shone with lust so intense at his words that he continued talking. “It was your little handkerchief’s fault. I was going to wash it, but I got its scent and it made me feral.”

“Aha?” you asked, as you continued to touch yourself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Shut my door and laid on my bed with it over my nose.” 

You hummed contentedly, half a moan, half a hum. 

“I was so hard it was ridiculous. I had barely even smelled you. I hadn’t even gone through the images of that wonderful dream of yours.” 

You sighted in bliss, breath ragged as you slid your finger out of yourself and turned to him with a smile. 

“I have an idea,” you said and then let out a breathy laugh.

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post. Comments are my life fuel, so send them out if you have any. I've also got a Kofi if you're interested.

TAGLIST: @msblacklupin @lupinslvt @nperoconelcositoarriba @peteslovr @kissmeunicornbaobei

Part 2 is out now!

Read more Marauders Fiction

[scarletttries]

When Fallout Characters Fall In Love... (Fallout Show Request)

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader, Maximus x Reader, Norm x Reader

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has sent in a request for the Fallout show, please keep them coming as this is definitely the show that I'm thinking about the most at the moment! Also let me know if you want a part two of these headcanons or something similar :)

The Ghoul:

- Cooper Howard couldn't put his finger on exactly when he had accepted that the life he now led would be one devoid of love, but it was a hollow feeling he carried in his chest wherever the wasteland took him. Maybe it was in the decades he'd spent wandering and gaining a reputation as a heartless cowboy without an ounce of mercy. Or the fact that he hadn't met anyone that had stirred up a single emotion inside him, fearing the aching betrayal of his wife would haunt him even as lifetimes passed. Maybe it came to him in the way he flinched each time he caught his reflection in the few unbroken windows he passed, flesh slowly forming caverns and creases where once there were only the faintest of lines that showed endless signs of life. The wasteland was no place for love. That's what he had decided.

- But even in the fall of civilization there's room for a surprise, and you were certainly one of those..

- He heard rumour of you before your bounty crossed his desk, a runaway scientist from a mysterious body known only as The Institute, a target to everyone for the sheer volume of classified knowledge you might possess.

- A life on the run was no easy one, and Cooper knew that better than anyone, so it didn't take long for him to track you down to a small town just on the outskirts of the radiation's no man's land. His gun was cocked as he strutted towards the half open door of the rundown house he'd narrowed your location down to, glancing at the poster in his hand one last time before he burst inside. Even from the poorly illustrated version of you, he could see your eyes were kind, almost hopeful, like you still believed science could make right what had gone so wrong in the last 200 years. He almost felt a tinge of guilt as he steeled himself for a fight, saying a silent prayer that you wouldn't be behind the walls in front of him.

- Stepping in carefully he expected traps, or an army of robots to jump to arms, but instead he found you travelling alone, a small satchel of papers clutched in your arms as you stared him down with a calm resolve that caught him more off guard than any weapon.

"Do you still believe there's hope for this world Mr Howard?" Your voice was soft, not the trembling fear he was so used to hearing. You stared up at him without a trace of disgust in your expression, your eyes locked on his as he considered your question, and then lowered his weapon.

"And what if I do?" His heart ached at the question, so hardened by years of cynicism that even the idea of hope and goodness were almost too heavy to bear. He felt more human than he had in years as you slowly inched towards him, the creaking floorboards beneath you cutting through a tense silence that had The Ghoul feeling like he was back on a movie set, everything so perfectly orchestrated to have his stomach in knots. And then you extended your hand to him and gave him the most genuine smile he could remember receiving in this whole sorry chapter of his after-life,

"Then I think we could really make a difference. Together." Your pip-boy screeched as his irradiated hand stretched out to reach yours, but you didn't flinch, gently squeezing the twisted flesh as you shook on what you bought felt in the depths of your souls was going to be a meaningful partnership.

- It would be a straight forward life trying to use your research to get the world back on track for there to be joy and peace again. But with The Ghoul by your side you can expect; a personal bodyguard who cares more about your safety than his own by far, a gleaming look of pride in his eyes any time you tell him which Cooper Howard film was your favourite, the slow and steady acceptance that he is still worthy of love even in his new twisted form, and Cooper being endlessly grateful that you are the person who wants to give that love to him.

Maximus:

- All Maximus had ever wanted was to be a knight of the Brotherhood. He wakes up every morning and does his best every day just to try and earn his spot in this family of welded metal and unflinching loyalty. It wasn't until you arrived on the base that he started to realise there were other ways he might form a family.

- A nearby village had been half destroyed by raiders until the Brotherhood stepped in, clearing out the violent scavengers and bringing anyone with skills they could utilise back to base for assessment. Maximus was sitting alone, nursing the most recent wounds inflicted by his so-called brothers when he watched you march in alongside two soldiers, the final evacuee of your faded community, a distance in your eyes that he felt akin with from his own home's destruction. You could feel his eyes on you before you spotted him, a rag damp with blood pressed to his nose as he sat huddled against a corrugated iron shack.

- Despite the sheer joylessness of the situation, Max couldn't stop himself from sporting a smile, waving at you like you had locked eyes across the schoolyard not some barren military base. Whatever he hoped for in that moment seemed to pay off as you waved back, a small laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his blood soaked grin. He watched as the knights around you escorted you to the medical tent for a check up, waiting until they left their guard posts beside you to sneak behind the off-white fabric, following some unknown instinct he'd never felt call to him before. You bolted upright where you perched on one of the medical beds as he appeared, visibly relaxing when you recognised him from outside and once again waving in his direction. His mouth worked faster than his brain in that moment, heart hammering in his chest as the words gushed out with his new found affections,

"I used to live in Shady Sands. I know what it's like to have your home destroyed, your family hurt, everything changing all at once. But you're safe here with the Brotherhood, and even if it doesn't feel like it today, things are going to be okay eventually. Also I'm Maximus and if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm, like, around all the time, and no one else really wants to talk to me so I'm probably going to be available... " He trailed off as he tried to recover what had ended up a far more embarrassing sentence than he'd hoped, his lungs burning as he realised he'd forgotten to take a breath through his whole winding spiel. But when you smiled at him any shame seemed to float away, and as you patted the bed and nodded for him to take a seat beside you, the once lonely squire suddenly felt much closer to finding a family than he had surrounded by his brothers.

- As you settle into life on the base, you and Maximus only grow closer. Expect; late nights of sneaking out of your dorm so you and Max can stare up the stars and plot your escape from this life, fantasising about what a life beyond these walls and this world could be like for the two of you, someone who has your back no matter how bad things get and how low you feel, and truly some of the most god awful flirting you will ever hear.

Norm:

- Growing up in the Vault, Norm had always been told the value of belonging to a community, and how everyone in the vault was just a big happy family. But none of that stopped Norm feeling like an outsider, like he didn't quite operate on the same wavelength as the rest of the cheerful strangers he shared his deep underground walls with. After a few of the annual exchanges between vaults, he had all but given up on hoping to meet anyone he felt he could actually feel close to.

- When his overseer father had finally decided it was his turn to continue the vault's legacy and be part of what Norm considered an archaic tradition of arranged marriages between the linked vaults, Norm couldn't have been more resistant. He pleaded for the council to reject his nomination, begging them not to force some young hopeful to be subjected to his notable lack of enthusiasm for the rest of their life in this dutiful swap, but with limited options of eligible young men, he soon found himself staring down the doors of your vault. The suit previously used by his fellow bachelors had been tailored to within an inch of its life to try and fit his slight frame, the shoulders still feeling like they hung off him, threatening to swallow him up along with ground as he watched the round door slowly start to roll open.

- He thought this whole thing was stupid and outdated, and he knew there was no way he could actually find someone to love and love him in return behind those doors, so why was his stomach so full of butterflies as slowly your face started to appear in the artificial light of Vault 33. He waited to see you throw him a false smile, going through the motions as much as he had planned to, or even a look of disappointment that he was not the man you had been picturing as the door crept open. Instead he really thought he saw sincerity in your eyes, a thoughtful understanding as he choked out his name, his stammering not going unnoticed by his sister who quietly chuckled behind him.

"It's really nice to meet you, Norm." You spoke each word with intention, like it wasn't just a rehearsed greeting but an honest confession that sent sparks flying in the air between you.

- Suddenly the pressure of matrimony didn't feel so all consuming. And maybe this system was more advanced than he had appreciated. And there might be a small chance that he wasn't destined to spend his life feeling like he was on the outside, that he might finally have someone that could take him as he is, darkness and light, for better or for worse.

- Whether you stay in the vaults, or make your move to the surface world, with Norm by your side you can expect: Sarcastic comments muttered under his breath at inopportune moments just to see the way you fail to contain your laughter, being the sounding board for all of each other's thoughts and feelings no matter how serious or silly they might be, Norm clinging to your side through everything knowing that he only feels himself when he's stood in your light, and being the one person Norm would do absolutely anything for, bringing out the bravery and intelligence that was always just below the surface of this sweet man.

[moonmunson]

electric touch - eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie hasn't had much luck with dates - not until you.

warnings: ppl being mean to eddie (only for a little bit!) and some discussion on eddie's penchant for kinda being used by the popular girls but there's so much fluff and some kissing at the end

word count: 2.8k

a/n: i started this when speak now tv came out and then completely abandoned it but she's my little brain child

When Eddie was in eighth grade, he spent a week rehearsing the best way to ask a girl out on a date. He practiced in the mirror every day, making sure to sound hopeful, but not desperate, eager, but not pushy. He’d almost given up and asked his Uncle for advice, but in case it didn’t go the way he wanted it to, he didn’t want Wayne to be waiting for an update. 

There was a new horror movie premiering in the theater downtown, and he’d heard that scary movies were the best to bring a girl to - because if she got scared, Eddie could put his arm around her and protect her from the fictional monsters. 

He never even got the chance to ask her. He’d tried, to be sure. Monday morning of the next week, when he’d worked up enough nerve, he walked up to the group of cheerleaders she was a part of, and didn’t even open his mouth before the group of girls ganged up on him - asking him what he wanted, calling him a freak, telling him to get away from them. Later, the girl he’d been pining after approached him - sans clique - and apologized on behalf of her friends. She didn���t feel the same as them, but she couldn’t ruin her “reputation.” They saw each other in secret for half a year before she got a boyfriend on the basketball team. Typical. It hurt Eddie more than he was comfortable admitting. 

Eddie doesn’t love referring to himself as a cynic, but the repetitive cycle of being used by popular girls for a night of fun - fulfilling their dream of sleeping with the town’s resident bad boy before never speaking to him again, exhausted Eddie to the point of declaring that true love was a capitalistic ruse created to sell laboratory made diamonds. It would never work out for him, and he convinced himself that he was okay with that. 

For the remainder of high school, Eddie continued to play the part. Rich kids invited him to ragers and tried to weasel their way out of paying full price for his weed, even though they were buying with daddy’s money, not their own. He hooked up with random popular girl after random popular girl, always leaving immediately and feeling like shit after. But at least he was getting laid, right?

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Now, Eddie is sitting on the couch in his living room, meticulously arranging and rearranging Wayne’s automobile magazines that live untouched on the coffee table. Has there always been this much dust on them? He wasn’t sure, and the thought only offered a momentary distraction before the nerves swept him back into the electric current of anxiety running through his body.  

He’d already spent most of the past hour making sure there was no visible trash laying out in the open for you to see. He’d even gone so far as to make his room slightly presentable in case you wanted to go in. He wasn’t expecting anything - quite the opposite, actually. He was sure that you’d see the place he lives, turn around and walk out without giving him a chance, and never speak to him again. 

Logically, he knows that this won’t be the case. He knows that Dustin wouldn’t lie to him about your reciprocated interest. He’d spent the entire drive back to Eddie’s trailer for their Hellfire meeting trying to convince him that he saw how giddy his sister had been when she opened the door and saw him standing there. She’d known Eddie was coming to pick her younger brother up, and she’d put on mascara to greet him - as if Eddie truly knows enough about girls to take that as a surefire sign that you were excited to see him. Dustin hears you talking over the phone to your friends about him all the time, and he only shares with Eddie that what you say is positive - not wanting to disclose the nitty gritty. It’s not your fault that the walls of your adjoined rooms are thin, and your friends are loud. 

Still, Eddie is nervous. When he gave you his phone number under the assumption that you might want to call to check up on Dustin, he was shocked that you called days after the Hellfire meeting had ended, and Dustin had returned home. So shocked, in fact, that he wasn’t even the one who had answered the phone - Wayne was. When he’d heard the sweet lilt of your voice on the other side of the line, he’d practically shoved his uncle to grab hold of the phone. You sounded unsure saying hello to him - nervous and breathy and a little bit quiet, but not unenthusiastic - and Eddie knew that Dustin had been telling the truth. 

Eddie spoke to you for an hour that night before he worked up the nerve to ask if you might want to come over to watch a movie. “No funny business, just the sweet sight of David Bowie in tights that no other man would ever be able to pull off.” You’d giggled - a sound Eddie was determined to hear again - and asked how he knew that Labyrinth was your favorite movie. The truth was that he’d overheard Dustin complaining about how you chose it every time it was your turn to pick for family movie night, but he brushed off the question and said that he just “Had a feeling.” 

The sudden appearance of headlights beaming through the trailer window brings Eddie out of his reverie long enough to remember to wipe the dust from his hands onto his jeans. The sound of your car door opening and closing, and the crunch that your shoes make on the gravel pulls Eddie like a siren song from the couch to his trailer door, and the creaking of the wooden steps leading up to said door, has him pulling it open faster than he means to. 

You’re a vision of comfort. Of soft things. Of light wash jeans with no rips in them, of cardigans and sweaters and rose perfume. Your fist is raised in the air like you were about to knock, and for a moment, Eddie thinks this whole thing was a mistake. 

“Oh-”

“Sorry, I-”

There’s a beat of silence. The energy between the two of you is almost palpable - eyes wide and palms clammy - before he breaks the connection and moves out of the way for you to come in. He knows he can turn on the charm once you’re settled, but this has been the part he’s been dreading the most.

It doesn’t matter to his friends that he lives in a trailer. It doesn’t matter when there are beer bottles on the coffee table or old socks on the couch, he knows the guys won’t care. But as you step in, and your eyes begin to sweep over the small living room, the reality of his economic status has never felt bigger, or made him feel smaller. 

As he looks at you though, he notices the soft smile on your face. Taking stock of the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls, of the throw blanket laid over the top of the recliner. 

“The uh, the hats and stuff are my Uncle’s.”

“They’re really cool,” his eyes trace your movements as you walk along the edges of the room, arms at your sides, reading the puns and state names embroidered on them. “has he always collected them?”

Eddie makes his way to the couch, and sits - trying to direct his line of sight to the same ones you’re looking at. Trying to put himself in your shoes and guess what you might be thinking, but coming up short. 

“Wayne was a trucker for a few years,” you turn to look at him, to pay attention to what he’s saying. Eddie does a lot of stupid shit to get people to look at him, he knows that. It doesn’t matter that the expressions he receives the most often are sneers or ones of annoyance. Exasperation. But you look genuinely interested in what he has to say, and it throws him for a loop. “And then he got stuck with me, so he doesn’t really get to buy new ones anymore.”

“Stuck with you?”  

“I mean, yeah, kind of. It’s a long boring story,” Eddie claps his hands together and launches himself up and off of the couch, and you know to stop pushing. “Want the grand tour?” 

“Absolutely,” you nod. 

“Well, my lady,” you watch from your position by the recliner as he struts to the middle of the living room, puts his arms out horizontally at his sides, and bows deeply, “welcome to Castle Munson. The maid did actually remember to show up tonight.” 

“Oh yeah? She did an excellent job,” you huff out a laugh, and Eddie snaps back up to a vertical, a smile on his face that showcases the lines around his mouth. 

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

After giving you a short but enthusiastic tour of the main parts of the trailer and presenting you with the array of snacks he'd gotten for the movie, you both settled on the small couch in the living room. You'd had to resist the urge to curl up into his side, and instead curled up into the arm of the couch.

“Anything, sweets. Go for it.”

“How did you really know this was my favorite movie?”

“I’m psychic,” He taps his index finger to his temple a few times. “I didn’t tell you that?”

“Eddie.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” He matches your raised pitch - teasing, but not condescending - and you almost raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but you don’t know if you’ve reached that level of familiarity yet. 

“You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I’m not weirded out or anything - just curious. Honestly, I’m kind of like, flattered, I guess? I don’t know.” 

Had you overstepped? Eddie’s eyes flit over different things in the room in rapid succession, and he exhales - you can almost see the cogs turning in his head - like he doesn’t know whether to keep joking or offer a moment of true vulnerability. You don’t think the latter comes naturally to him. 

“I heard Dustin complaining to Wheeler that you always pick it for family movie night. It seems like the kind of thing you’d like. Very dreamy and hazy, that kinda thing.” Eddie shrugs and looks off to the side, trying and failing to put on an air of nonchalance, but his tinted cheeks suggest otherwise.

“Is that how you think of me? Dreamy and hazy?” You duck your head to try and meet his gaze, and when he turns to look at you, you think it’s the first time you’ve ever truly seen him. The boyish, innocent version of him that he doesn’t allow to rise to the surface all that often. His charm is still there, and bright as ever, but you can see the uncertainty in the way he struggles to keep his eyes on yours. 

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” The smile that graces your features is so easy and genuine that Eddie has no choice but to beam his own right back at you. 

You settle into an easier silence for the remainder of the movie, save for the comments the both of you share. You think it’s especially funny when Eddie compares The Fireys playing volleyball with their own heads to a “Muppet snuff film on acid.” When it’s over, he grabs a few Dr. Peppers from the fridge and asks if you want to smoke with him before you head back home. You decline, because driving while high makes you nervous, but you don’t mind sitting with him for a bit longer. 

“Plus, there’s one more room I haven’t given you the tour for, if you’re interested…”

“I get to see the King’s quarters?”

“More like the dungeon,” he gestures to himself, still clad in his Hellfire shirt, “but yeah, totally.”

“Lead the way then, dungeon master.” 

He looks behind himself to see if you’re following, and extends his hand back so you can hold onto it. It’s not like you’re gonna get lost - the hallway is less than ten feet, but it gives you an excuse to finally touch without overthinking it. Eddie doesn't care to ask whether the jolt of static he feels when your hands meet for the first time is because of your shuffling socks on the carpet or the nervous current running between the two of you. Guessing by the way you suck in a soft breath - one he could barely hear - he doesn’t think you care either. 

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“All I’m saying is Jareth’s a weirdo for wanting a whiny sixteen year old to be his queen.” Eddie is laying on his stomach, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed in the air. When you’d entered his room, he’d shown you his favorite things before quickly ushering you to get comfortable on the bed. He said that he needed to have an in depth conversation about the movie you’d just watched. 

“The age gap is bad for sure, and she is whiny, I totally get what you’re saying, but-” You’re sitting across from him, elbows resting on your criss-crossed legs. 

“But? Y/n. Are you about to defend him?”  

“Let me finish!” You giggle and Eddie swears that he can feel it in his chest - another spark. 

“I cannot let you finish if you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say. Morally. Ethically. I cannot let you finish.” In true dramatic Munson fashion, he sweeps his hands in front of him, palm facing out for you to see. He’s almost pouting, lips folded in and corners turned down.  

“What I’m trying to say,” you look pointedly at him to see if he’s going to interrupt again, “is that I think that his proposition isn’t so bad when you really think about it.”

“Well now I have to hear your reasoning behind this.” 

“Think about it. He’s offering her literally anything she could possibly desire, and all she has to do is love him back.” 

“Oh that’s all? I think you’re forgetting the part where he says she has to obey his every whim or whatever the fuck.” Eddie fights the urge to change his tone from teasing to serious - his heart twinging at the idea of making you uncomfortable. 

“You don’t think that love is enough? Or that maybe all love has a level of devotion attached to it?”

“I think my idea of love is too fucked to give you a real answer.” He’s refusing to look at you - gaze directed towards his ringed hands fiddling with the metal tab of the soda can, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I could fix that, if you wanted - make it all dreamy and hazy for you.” 

Eddie can feel the wires in his brain short circuit. In the back of his mind somewhere, he knows that he only has a few seconds to respond before you start to think that maybe you said something wrong, but he can’t seem to reconnect in time. All he manages is an out of breath - 

“Yeah?” 

“If you wanted, yeah,” you nod, like you’ve decided something, and slowly reach to pull his hand from the soda can - taking it with you and setting it down on the crowded bedside table. “I think you deserve it.” 

“Really?” He’s looking at your joined hands, but he doesn’t wrap his fingers around yours. Not yet. 

“Yeah, Eddie. Really.” 

His fingers finally wrap around yours as you pull him from his position on his stomach to lean over you - rising onto his knees and walking on them before planting his arms on either side of your torso. He can feel your breath, soft against his cheeks as he leans in and connects his lips to yours - once, twice, three times. 

That same sparky feeling that Eddie has been getting in his chest all night finally rumbles to life. Like a car being hotwired, he can practically feel your hands pulling wires he thought were long dead and breathing life back into them - rubbing them together until the spark catches and the engine starts. 

“That was-” You pull away slightly to look up at him, lovesick and dopey. 

“Dreamy? Hazy? I think those are two words I would definitely-”

You laugh, already pulling his face back towards yours. 

“Shut up and kiss me again, Munson.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

a/n: ahh! thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog i would appreciate it endlessly !!!

[heerinnie]

jay, 64! <3

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐭?

𝐏.𝐉𝐒

SYNOPSIS: Park Jongseong a.k.a. Jay was a bad fortune, always in some kind of inconvenience having to fight to get away from the issues surrounding him until you came along and made him a better man.

WARNINGS: Angst/Fluff - sad ending ig, mentions of domestic ab/se, abandonment, jay x fem!reader (anything else let me know)

(Not proofread)

WC: 810

^^SFW UNDERCUT

Never intended, never meant. Your involvement with Park Jongseong was never supposed to happen and yet it did and you couldn’t be happier.

He was a bad fortune, always in some kind of inconvenience having to fight to get away from the issues surrounding him and the people causing them. Not you though, you always stayed even if your mere presence could kill him he’d take the risk and become a martyr for his affection.

-

Abandoned and alone, you and jay strolled around the empty night streets lightened by flickering street lamps that normally should have you heaving out of fear yet you felt safe. Safer than being home, safer than being at school or anywhere where Jay wouldn’t be found. It’s not that you were being hurt at home or mistreated at school, it was far from that at least you thought so yourself- it was just that measly and soul sucking feeling that came with the distance Jay would unwillingly have to give you during the day time since he wouldn’t want you ti get associated with a person like him. A ‘lawless and negligent delinquent’.

But he was far from that, he wasn’t some wrongdoer that taunted the streets of your town. He was not an irresponsible offender that everyone claimed him to be, nobody helped him and nobody listened to his so called sob stories that were genuine cries and pleads for help and action so he can grow up to a good status. He got discarded like an empty candy wrapper with remains of sweetness that disintegrated and decayed when the rain came. He got moulded into who he was today, cold and bitter to the world that failed to save him.

“Are you cold?” Were the first words that left jays mouth after strolling in silence for a while,

“No yeah, I’m good”

“I feel like there’s something on your mind, wanna talk about it?”, his sudden movements came to a halt as his soft eyes examined your expression.

No matter how many times you told Jay you’re alright he always knew that you weren’t. It was strange, it almost felt like his heart strings were being pulled to your direction engulfing you into a warm and secured hug you both quietly needed. Best friends are like this right? They feel what the other feels? Think the same thoughts? They get goosebumps whenever they make physical contact? That’s all platonic, it had to be.

For Jay it wasn’t, he knew from the first time he saw you, you’d be the one for him and then when you made an effort to understand him even with his reputation he wanted nothing else than to wife you up right then and there.

-

Jay had his moments. Metaphorically speaking he’d be a bungee jumpers worst nightmare, some thrill seeker would want to jump at the opportunity they found only to find out they just accepted a near-death experience. If the cord snaps you feel immense fear about your fate, the only difference between jay and a broken restraint is that you’d be able to survive one. Interpret that however you want, your own guess was no better than theirs.

For all the cynical moments with jay there were always more beautiful moments at bay, like when you first saw him cry. Ideally seeing someone cry shouldn’t be a comforting memory, however with the context of jay feeling so secure in your presence he finally let himself go and it felt sickly bittersweet to see someone so damaged feel so vulnerable for the first time in forever.

-

It’s not everyday you’d stumble upon lilies of the valley but every time you did you couldn’t help but recall jay’s words.

“If I ever leave, remember me by these” he said passing you the delicate flowers, obviously taken a back by his words you couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by that. Is he leaving? Is he in trouble? Is he in that headspace again? Your thoughts raced to the worst possible scenarios before Jay took your hand into his and placing the bell-shaped white flowers behind your ear.

“Don’t worry darling” his voice cooed. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I still don’t know how I’m supposed to word it out-” the nerves started to settle in, “but I decided that it’d be better for me to move”.

It felt like a bullet just ripped you through your heart. A pain that could take down the strongest army. Now all that’s left here were the memories you made with Jay and all the firsts you had with him.

-

You’ll never regret meeting Jongseong, you’ll never forget meeting jongseong and you’ll never forget loving jongseong- even if it’s been years since you’ve held him in your arms, even if you never got the chance to let him know.

A/N: And so I’m back, I rested at home for a bit. I’m so glad I finally finished this and half of the other requests I got! Thank you to everyone who reached out after I posted about my tiny break. Hopefully I’ll start posting regularly again and I’ll be able to share more of my work <3

[shittalkcornstalk]

“Take One For The Team”

Part 5

A/n: Ahhhhhhhhh sad! Maybe I wasn’t in the best mood while writing this, but what’s a good Buggy narrative without a little angst? I really thought with the themes manipulation I have set up it’d be so much more interesting for the reader to be the one to get hurt by it first! Next chapter is juicy! I will keep writing. As always feel free to let me know if I missed a warning or if I didn’t do the taglist correctly :)

Synopsis: Your self respect and public perception make you question all your feelings for your Captain. Were you ever in control of the situation?

Warnings- xfemreader! 18+ minors dni, angst ,manipulation, slut shaming, harassment, kissing without consent, internalized self hatred, alcohol, eventual smut, power dynamics

Word Count ~3.8k

Taglist- @fluffybunnyu @fanshavegottensotoxic

Chapter 5 “An Audience”

The next week in the small town was a rabid mix of fluttering emotions. It was kind of crazy how quick seeing Captain Buggy in this new light made you change. You used to be so cynical and sarcastic, mocking and berating your friends and the Captain. You remember the sick feeling you got when you first learned about his desires but now, it has been replaced with butterflies. It felt like you’d become a different person, like a sappy teenage girl again, and you loathed it. You protested to Alvida as you walked to the ship after a small girl’s outing.

“It’s fine… I’m fine…I’m completely normal about him, it’s just a bit of attraction is all, a little crush.” You said lying through your teeth. You desperately wanted to underplay how bad you’d fallen. You’d been so impersonal around your fellow crew before, you didn’t need to be seen as weak.

Alvida smirked and snickered. “Yes, you are the utmost of grace and composure, you would be perfectly unfazed by the clown if you saw him right now…”

Feigning a classy confidence you turn your nose up “That’s right-”

“Then it really wouldn’t matter if I pointed out that-” Alvida nods over to Buggy.

He was on the deck in combat with Cabaji, training his knife skills. His overcoat and hat we tossed aside. He lunged towards Cabaji with great force. You saw how his muscular arms contracted and tightened with each movement. His eyes were determined and his teeth bared in aggression.You hadn’t seen him with his hair down often, but his long ponytail felt like something out of a romance novel protagonist.This burning attraction welled up in you. It left you stammering. He was far too caught up in the moment to notice you were across the deck gawking at him.

“Aren’t you the poster child of composure, get your jaw up before you embarrass yourself even more…” Alvida nudges you and laughs at your expense.

“What? No! I barely even looked at his…rippling arms..or his firm chest..or his-” You feel yourself lose focus again at the sight of Buggy.

“Gross, for both our’s sake I’ll stop you right there.” Alvida cuts you off. “So you’ve developed some feelings for the Captain, that is well evident, why don’t you do something about it, save me from having to hear this conversation again... You are well aware of the Captain’s opinion of you, so what’s stopping you? What happened to that flirtatious little minx I schemed with a few weeks ago?” Alvida was exhausted hearing the both of you ramble on like kids about silly crushes. Her impatience with Buggy had well hit it’s breaking point and with you it was getting pretty damn close.

“It’s different now that I actually like him” You half-whine. “I’m worried about looking stupid in front of him”

“Have you met the man?” She spoke flatly. “Honey there’s very little you can do to lose that guy’s image of you, look at him-” She points over to show Buggy has managed to accidentally hoist himself up the mast, tied in a rope, dangling around screaming for someone to cut him down. You would’ve mocked him endlessly in the past for this error but right now all you can do is giggle. He looked so goofy up there.

“You might be a bit right- I’m going to go cut him down…” You walk away from Alvida and approach the dangling Captain. He is flailing around trying to dissect his body in a way that would set him free but with little luck. You call out to him as he makes another attempt. “Hey Buggy do you need some help up there?” You chuckle at the sight.

“Gah y/n! I thought you were out for the afternoon…” He sounds so exposed. You weren’t supposed to see this. The rope contracted one more time before his head popped off at the shock of your sudden appearance. It falls down and you manage to catch him before hitting the ground. His head in your hands he looks up at you with a bright red face.

“Are you alright Captain?’ You look down at him, your fingered just slightly nestled in the back of his head, his hair really is soft.

“Yes, very fine y/n, I actually was just doing a safety demonstration for these idiots about tying down any ropes to avoid this very situation-” He puffed, you didn’t buy it for a second, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

‘How very conscientious of you Captain Buggy” You say with a smile. “Don’t worry I’ll cut you down-” You take his head into one arm tightly and climb up the mast to the rest of Buggy’s body. Buggy is held tightly as you use your free arm to slash through the ropes. If it were up to him he wouldn’t leave this close encounter. His face buried in your chest taking in all your scents, his forehead pressing very conveniently on your soft exposed skin. It was worth making himself look like a fool for just this. You saw his body reconnect as the ropes dropped, his head lingering for just a moment before popping back in at the neck. You hadn’t clocked just how pressed his face was to you until you noticed a bit of smeared paint on your chest. Buggy saw it almost immediately taking a deep breath.

“Sorry Captain, I didn't realize how tightly I was holding on to your head! I hope your makeup didn’t get ruined…”

“Don’t worry about it…” His voice sounded distant, he was lost in his train of impure thoughts.

“Are you feeling okay Captain, it looks like the blood is rushing to your head…” Some concerned crew members called out.

He walks away a bit dazed. “It's definitely rushing somewhere…” He mumbles to himself as he leaves for his private quarters to save himself from further embarrassment.

You stay behind and help clean up some of the loose rope on the ground walking them to a scrap pile. You feel a pat on your back as two crew men laugh openly.

“Thank god you were here to help the Captain yet again- what would we do without you y/n” He speaks jokingly.

“Yeah could you imagine how much pissier he’d be without you around-” The other remarks.

“Mhm, well I try to be a good crewmate when I can be…” You try to wave off some of the mocking energy in the room. You didn’t love what they were implying about you, even if it was a half truth.

“Well keep it up girly, for all our sake…” The two snicker, one pats you a little too low on your back for your liking.

You’d been accustomed to a pirate’s sense of humor at this point. Well aware of how to joke at another's expense. You’ve had Buggy’s men call you all sorts of demeaning names. You’ve been called a bitch, you’ve had shots taken at your appearance, your intelligence, but this felt different. Maybe because it was a little true. You did keep Buggy entertained and he hired you with that in mind. You were eye candy to the man even if you proved to be a good pirate. You had to learn that, but those two men who barely knew you, already were well aware of your role with the captain. They didn't need to hear your private conversations, they didn't need to be one of his trusted right hand men to know. Buggy had marked you as his from the very beginning to everyone else on the crew while you were none the wiser.

The rest of the week made you hyper aware of how the other men looked at your interactions with Buggy. Mumbled whispers and knowing glances were passed around at meals when you sat next to the Captain. You’d never noticed how front and center you were next to Buggy at dinner, until all those knowing eyes sat on you waiting for you to do your job. You didn’t sit next to him after that. You’d planned to confess to the man at the end of the week and you refused to have an audience.

Buggy's crew celebrated the last night on this island before the dreaded expanse of sea with drinking and partying. Many were trying to get their last chance at some action with any woman they ran into. You’d seen this act before and it was always so pitiful. Usually it was an act of desperation, these men wanted a woman's company so bad, but it never seemed to affect you. Sure you had your private room which avoided any awkward scenarios, but Buggy's men never even really fully acknowledged you beyond being a fellow crewmate for reasons you were now well aware of. You plopped down at the Captain’s booth along with a couple familiar faces and some others who you were less acquainted with. Cabaji and Moji were talking together ignoring whatever tirade the captain was going on about. As he saw you get closer he pulled you in a bit.

"You should’ve seen it y/n monsters the size of ships, twice the size even, and your fearless captain was taking them all down with a butter knife no less!” He obviously added some embellishments, but you still laughed along. He continued with these tales of him as a young pirate, no crew with a rinky dink ship. “ I had to go through it all alone, but it was the only way to do it!” He laughs out and slams his empty beer mug on the table. You’d also finished what you'd been drinking in the time it took for him to finish his stories.

"Why don't I freshen us up?” You smile and grab both glasses.

“Sounds great sweetheart!” He pats you on the back roughly taking the wind out your sails. His eyes follow you to the bar. The men around him start mumbling something but you are too far to hear anything. Buggy looks over to you, cups his hand over his mouth leaning into his audience. Whatever he said got a raucous applause from the crewmates and Buggy leaned back to take it all in.

You headed back over with the drinks and sat yourself back down to the captain’s side. He grabs the beer and sloshes it down. He looks at you, face flushed from what you presumed to be the alcohol running through his system, only proving to be more true when he leaned into and you could smell it on him.

“Beers great but it can’t beat the shit I’ve got back on the ship, you’d love it, remind me to let you try it when we get back- hic -” He leans into you more with his arms moving dangerously low on your back.

“Buggy I think you’ve had plenty” You laugh it off. He's been drunker before, but he’s not usually this handsy. You were hoping this would be a sign to slow down.

“Cmon baby- I know my limits! I was just telling the boys here about the deal I scored in that deal at the weapons and ammunition dealer thanks to my lovely girlfriend~” His arm returns to the small of your back holding you tightly to him. You don’t say anything, that joke was supposed to be just for you two, and he’s shared it to the table with hoots and hollers. “I even got you that pretty little pistol…which I don’t think I’ve been properly thanked for..” He slurs his words and looks at you teasingly.

“Thank you Buggy again, it was a very nice gift.” You feel yourself shrinking.

“Aw what was that! I think I’ve earned a little more than a thank you…” His eyes are indirect, they switch from looking at you and the rest of the people surrounding you. He’s waiting for you. “I know exactly how you can show your appreciation” His gaze darkens as his hand tugs at your chin and your lips meet his. It only lasts for a second, but you can taste the beer and face paint on your lips lingering. He looks back at you and smiles wide. “There, that wasn’t too bad right?” The table bursts into laughter except for a couple people. Cabaji and Moji stare silently realizing the plan has gone too far, and Alvida walks from the scene immediately. You sit there motionless.

In front of people this moment was taken from you, something that was supposed to be special and fulfilling was ripped from your control. It was quick and impersonal, maybe that was for the better, playing it up as a joke.It was your first kiss with the captain and it was to serve what? To let everyone know you were there to give him attention. Maybe you were overthinking it , but seeing a crew's worth of men applaud at your little performance did not sit so right with you. Buggy hired you for this. He hired you to eventually have you and you never really took the time to think about those implications. You took advantage of it and now you even started liking it, but it was a role that was laid out for you from the very beginning. Everyone seemed to know that and Buggy soaked it all up. Gripping your waist tight he looked at you with that stupid big smile. You smile back, but you don't want to. You didn't want to cause a scene so you waited in the moment. Taking it all in the eyes of you you feel your breath quicken. Everything you were doing for him was exposed from the start. You played it up, but the captain wasn't the only one who saw your little outfits and heard your flirty voice. All his men saw that and they had well made up their minds about you. You were there to keep Captain happy, and you did. You did your job. Was this it? You hear the crowd die down and rush for the bathroom.

Looking at yourself it felt different, you felt used and cheap. A toy, a tool, a little dog at his beck and call. Were you ever in control of this? Buggy was your captain and he always got what he wanted, it was only a matter of time before he locked you in too. You hear the door open and rush to a stall to hide, a couple of low ranking men walked into laughing about something..laughing at you.

“Buggy better keep that bitch on a tight leash, gold digging skank is probably gonna jump ship if she finds some deeper pockets-”

“I'm just happy she's actually putting out for him. Tramp was teasing the captain for so long it was giving me blue balls!”

“I'm sure she’s keeping captain plenty taken care of, see they were out all day last week, probably held up in some inn.”

“You're probably right she’s been quiet all night, the poor things throat must be sore!”

The men all toss around these accusations and spit out profanities like it was just all agreed upon knowledge. You were a whore, a gold digger, Buggy’s property. You wanted to be somewhere else, you wanted to be anyone else in this moment, Anyone but his… You hear them leave and make your way to the ship after rushing through the crowds of the bar. Buggy and the others celebrated as if nothing happened. You duck your head down to go unnoticed and leave out the door. Nobody seemed to notice, but Buggy did. Buggy could always spot you in a crowded room.

You stumble through the streets a little dazed and drunk. You looked around at the warmth of light in the passing houses, but bypassed them all to the dark and empty ship. Making your way up to your room you slam the door behind you and see the small constraint space. You see your outfit for the next day lined up, it feels all too much like a costume to you, short and tight with Buggy’s colors. You toss it to the floor and look at yourself. Makeup rushes down the sides of your face and you rip off the outfit you were wearing to throw on a nightgown. Folding yourself into your bed you clung to your pillow and cried.About an hour in you hear a knock at your door. You try to calm yourself and clear your throat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Buggy…why'd you leave so soon doll, the fun was just getting started?” He chuckled a bit, but his sobering voice still held some concern. “Listen if it was that bad of a kiss, just forget it, it was just a silly joke…”

“It wasn’t a joke to me-” You swung the door open to meet his gaze. He sees your face all puffy and stained. This was new for him, seeing you break like this. It made his stomach churn.

Buggy didn’t know how to respond, he could clearly hear some bite behind your words. Were you that disgusted by him? It had to be that. He walked deeper into your room and kept his eye contact. You gulp his closeness, you hate how he makes you feel.

“Look, I get it, I’m an old, ugly, clown. I won’t make any more moves on you, it was stupid to even think I had a chance-” He turns to leave and you grab his wrist.

He gives up on you so easily. What is he playing at? Is this a way to make you pity him? Is this just another way for him to manipulate the situation?

“Stop that shit right now, you can’t play these little games with my head-” You yell out at him panicked.

“Y/n what do you mean by that…” He looks at you.

“Ugh! You should know! You’re the one who hired me to be your little toy. You are the one who got me all those presents to woo me over, you are the one who’s spent all this time making it so I’d fall for you so I could fulfill every little freaky fantasy you have. I really like you Buggy, but it's hard to know if that's how I feel, or how I'm supposed to feel-”

Buggy takes a step back, he wanted you to like him back for so long, but now you do and he's being confronted for it. He’s not good in these types of situations.

“I don’t want to be relegated to just the Captain’s slut, when you kissed me in front of everyone… who was that for? Me or just another way to flaunt your power-”

“Slut…No it wasn’t meant to be like that, I just got caught up in the moment, giving the crew a little performance, but I have wanted to kiss you for so long, it just seemed like the only time I had the balls to do it, you couldn't reject me that way”

“Buggy I wouldn’t have rejected you if you tried any other time, I just wanted it to be special…I wanted it to be private.” You get a bit quieter and lower your head in embarrassment.

Buggy’s eyes widen and he takes a stepforward seeing your apprehension. He sees your eyes are misty when he lifts your head up in your hands. He wants this argument to end, he wants to forgive him like nothing. Maybe he’s blinded by the fact you just admitted you liked him back he asks you quietly.

“Would you say no if I asked you to kiss me again?”

You did want to kiss him again, you wanted this from the moment you had realized your feelings. Your cheek nuzzled into his warm and calloused hand. It was just the two of you; quiet and personal. He was looking at you, not with impatience or hurt, just longing. His face stood still and didn't get any closer to you. You leaned in and your lips hovered over his, feeling his breath against yours. He closed his eyes, but nothing else moved. His lip slightly trembled with desire, he was waiting for you. You sigh and place your lips upon his. It was gentle, your mouth parted slightly as you deepened it for just a moment. You turned your head and locked in.Buggy melted onto you, still letting you take the lead. Your hands traced along his neck and hair. You’d always imagined a kiss with a swashbuckling pirate captain would be this intense clashing of teeth and yet this was different. It was a warmth that enveloped tightly and made you feel safer. You took a step back to see Buggy’s lashes fluttering open, his paint smeared. Your head clears feeling yourself come down from the volatile state you were in. You catch your breath and speak directly.

“Buggy I want you, but I can’t be with you if you only see me as a toy-”

“I've been obsessed with you since the day I met ya, you are so much more than that. I don’t know who let you believe all that shit you were spitting off. Y/n I want you to want me more than anything, but I can’t force you to do anything. When I first met you, you were so bold, you didn’t let me get to you. And all these months you never waivered, you never let anything phase you, why is this happening all of a sudden?”

“It was nobody just a couple of guys-”

“What the fuck where they saying about you to get you like this? Do you know their names? I’ll rip out their tongues talking about you like that.” Buggy is quick to break the comfortable silence in the room with blame that isn't placed on him.

You laugh a little at his reaction, putting your hand on his face. “I didn’t get a look at their faces, I’m sure they were nobodies..” You knew they were on Buggy’s crew and you didn't need that blood on your hands.

Buggy turns again to look at you, he barely even noticed you were only in your nightgown until now. Coincidentally he left the rest of the crew at the bar, the ship was still and silent as you looked into his wandering eyes. You see his breath quicken and hands shake as one rests itself on your waist.

“I’d hate to push my luck for a thir-“

[isagrimorie]

In general, I think Team Issylra is more of my speed than Team Wildemount where it has more joke and troll characters taking charge/disrupting the narrative.

Deanna and FRIDA are more support characters. Fearne goes with the flow, Imogen would please just not want to be the Leader.

Chetney doesn’t take anything serious and FCG is far too self-sacrificing that they’re willing to drive themselves and others into the Deep End. (Cue Logan Roy’s: “You are not serious people”).

In Team Issylra, Deni$e is cynical, she’s inquisitive and willing to push people to get answers but also so grounded and supportive. Deni$e and Deanna are two sides of the same coin in this regard.

Prism is an inexperienced wizard who is also very inquisitive.

And Bor’dor, if that is even his name, turned out to be one of the cultists.

Mix them in with Laudna, Orym, and Ashton who are a powder keg away from exploding and in Laudna’s case, she did.

Honestly, the fact that she hasn’t before this is a testament to the support of the whole Bells Hells group.

She just died again month ago. Yu’s betrayal is still fresh— Yu made her feel special and then it turns out she was an assassin. Then Otohan happened, and then the Apogee Solstice, and then they lost Imogen, Fearne, Chetney and FCG.

And then the Issylran group were thrust into a fairly gray situation where they helped a town with an also dubious town leader oust an overbearing colonizing Church institution.

And while it was fun with Team Wildmounte, the angst and heaviness with Team Issylra really worked for me and also I think it really helped the group that Deni$e was along too because she’s very good at taking initiative.

And then Bor’dor happened

He was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

It also re-crystallized for them that they are fighting a war.

Team Wildemount are returning to Jrsusar with their skin clear, reinvigorated with their mission, finding love and laughter, with the exception of Imogen who is still very much filled with anxiety but also looks slaying.

Team Issylra, returning to Jrsusar traumatized, looking in the middle distance with haunted expressions. Dirty and a bit more feral and broken. Soldiers.

(Seriously, Team Issylra has really upped their game tactically and skills wise).

I love Campaign 3.

[markantonys]

I'm thinking about Rand's ending in the books and I hate both the bodyswap and that he abandons everyone but at the same time I get that his sacrifice has to mean something so the world forgets him/lets him fade into myth. And him actually dying would undermine the entire point of his arc. So I'm curious how you think the show might tackle this? I'm sure there's a few options

i hate it too! but yeah, rand needs to be forgotten by the world at large and needs to get a new face so he won't be recognized, or else he will never know peace. so the way i would do it is have him fade into myth among the general public, but still remain part of his loved ones' lives and they all just keep secret the fact that this guy is rand al'thor. his whole arc is about learning to stop self-isolating and to instead let himself lean on his loved ones for support, so i felt that him ending the series by fucking off into the mist all alone was totally contrary to that and did not make emotional sense as the endpoint of the journey we'd been on with him for 14 books. i can certainly understand if he needs to take a lil sabbatical and have some time to himself in the immediate aftermath, but that should not have been the very final concluding note of his whole arc! for my own sanity i have to imagine he just took a 2-week vacation and then went to caemlyn to be with his family (and told tam, nynaeve, and perrin that he's still alive, and rescued mat from the seanchan and incorporated him into the polycule, and bargained with the creator to bring egwene and gawyn back to life........okay i'm getting sidetracked)

as for what the show might do, i'll brace myself for them to adhere to the book version, but from what we've seen in the first 2 seasons, i think that ending would make even less sense for show!rand than it does for book!rand. in 1x08, we see that his greatest dream is to live a quiet, peaceful life with his family, and now we're going on a journey of watching him be forced to give up that dream for the rest of the series. what better way to end the show than by having rand finally get to live out that dream now that his duty to the world is done? the tears i would weep if the final scene of the show was similar to his 1x08 domestic AU, but real this time! plus, the s1 ending & s2 already did the whole thing of rand fucking off into the mist all alone, making his loved ones think he's dead, and trying to start over in a new town with a new life - AND HE LEARNS THAT THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE because he can't help but get attached to new people wherever he goes AND because he can't keep himself from remaining attached to the people from his old life and wanting to help them when he learns they're in trouble. and it also showed how his loved ones suffer because of him making them think he's dead and took a pretty hard stance in saying "no, no one is better off if rand fakes his death, not rand and not his loved ones." so i especially think rand's book epilogue scene would ring hollow in the show since s2 has specifically proven that that scenario doesn't work.

some people will harp on about happy endings being uNrEaLIsTIc, but i Do Not Give A Shit!!!! and so far the show has also shown that it's not interested in grimdark for grimdark's sake and that, like the books, it doesn't shy away from showing trauma and tragedy and yet still chooses hope & togetherness over cynicism & isolation at the end of the day, and so i think it feels very plausible for the show to give rand a bit more hopeful of an ending. (i guess the books TRIED to give him a hopeful ending what with him thinking happily about how he can travel around by himself and not be recognized, but it just felt false to me that that's the sort of thing that would make rand happy - in large part because show!rand was the first version i ever met, and i subconsciously carried his homebody caregiver stay-at-home dad-ness with me into the books even though he wasn't REALLY like that in the books in the way he is in the show. so that feels like further evidence that book!epilogue wouldn't work for show!rand.)

now as for the bodyswap, that's so tricky to imagine what the show might do. on the one hand, rand cannot fade into anonymity and be allowed to rest and set down his duties if he keeps his same body and will still be recognized wherever he goes. on the other hand, imagining rand's final moments in the whole show being portrayed by some random new actor instead of josha is so freaking sad! sad for us and sad for josha! it's fine in a book where we're in rand's head and can feel that he's still him even though he tells us he looks different, but in a visual medium, spending up to 8 seasons with josha as rand only to have his final moments be portrayed by a completely different person..........the emotions just wouldn't hit the same, it wouldn't feel like a proper sendoff for rand. granted, if moridin's actor had been in the show for several seasons already (and whether they would cast a new actor as moridin or bring fares fares back and just have the character still be called ishamael is another question i can't predict) then we'd be attached to him too by the finale, so maaaaaybe it could still feel emotional, but never as emotional as if it were josha doing that scene.

so i'm stuck here because story-wise it makes more sense for rand to get a new face, but TV-wise it's not sensible to have one of the main characters played by a different actor in their final scene(s). the potential solution to this would be, no bodyswap but have rand disguise his face with an illusion when in public so that he doesn't get recognized as the dragon reborn and get hassled.

so, okay, here's what i would do: rand wakes up in the healing tent still in his original body, but then he disguises himself and leaves the tent. he passes by his own funeral going on and slips away into the night, after exchanging a meaningful look with his partners who can sense that this stranger is him thanks to the bonds. then, cut to a proper epilogue scene of josha-as-rand undisguised in the privacy of his own home, watching his kids play with his partners by his side (and maybe all his friends and tam too if they REALLY feel like spoiling me haha) just like he told us in 1x01 he always dreamed of :')

[beesincognito]

Perfect Strangers- part fifteen: The Theater

Viktor x Fem!reader (slight NSFW)

part fourteen part sixteen     (start here!)

Takes place before Arcane and works its way there, did my best to combine the different versions of lore. (nsfw in parts)

(you and Viktor meet on your first day at the academy and bond over being habitual, awkward loners. The story revolves around class issues and a sense of belonging mixed with lore and Arcane plot.)

*slightly implied NSFW- very brief *

Word count: 5,089

******

Bags were packed for a weekend trip you were dreading. Not that it was getting in the way of work, nor was it a trip of severe inconvenience. It was a stressful venture; you would rather trek alone instead of having to bring Viktor in hopes of shielding him from what may come.

     Your parents were in town again and had asked you and Viktor to stay at the family estate that weekend for a friendly visit. Of course you wanted to prevent ruffled feathers after the last time you were all together, so you obliged after discussing it extensively with Viktor in private. Feeling out his nerves with every shift of his eyes or fidgeting of his hands in yours. 

     “It’s not too late to back out,” you finished checking the rooms, ensuring everything was tidy for your return, “we can bow out after the theater.”

     Many outs were given to Viktor, but he was adamant on going along with your parents’ request in hopes that they would warm up to him in the future. He insisted once more that there was no issue and he was looking forward to seeing your childhood home. That prospect alone made you almost as anxious as having him around your parents. 

     Entresol was far from the lavish lifestyle you were brought up in. The fissures were toxic, a hazard to raise a child in, and most people were never given a choice about living there. You wondered what he would think of your wastefully large home and how stifling it was. Surely after all of those years together, he would know you were far removed from the mindset of your parents and the estate should not reflect who you had become away at the academy.

     A car was waiting for you on the edge of campus which you did not request, only accepting your mother’s offer to have a driver sent as opposed to leaving an hour early to walk. Pistons fired as the vehicle bumbled down the lane on the way to the theater after your bags were loaded into the back seat by the driver. All of the pampering felt widely unnecessary.

     The crowds were large and the driver dropped you off at the front steps to the theater which was in a thrall over the spring program. Usually the Winterfest was the highlight of the year for the theater, but, from what you remembered growing up, spring concerts could attract a healthy sum of people on opening night. Obviously your parents wanted to attend on opening night despite the overwhelming number of people. 

     Your family’s wealth did not provide for a private box, but there were handsomely placed seats in the nosebleeds that allowed ample viewing of the stage unobstructed. There your parents were, waiting for you with drinks already ordered and seats saved for the four of you. There was a table for standing just behind the seats and you passed it before settling into the space next to your mother. 

     “I almost thought you were going to be late, it would have been a waste of ticket money,” your mother was charming as ever with the way her passive aggressive words edged on the line of cynical in tone and nature.

     After fruitlessly arguing with her to assure her you had plenty of time before the concert began, you listened to her drone on about work and home. Staff was getting more disagreeable by the day and she blamed it on them being from the undercity which you were quick to politely reprimand her on without sounding too upset. Apparently there was an accident at one of the manufacturing plants and protests ensued, leading your father to lay off over a dozen workers without a proper investigation. It was vile, and you felt your leg shake with agitation while trying to remain calm. 

     Beside you, Viktor’s knuckles were white from gripping the neck of his cane between his knees as he looked on at the empty stage, curtains still drawn in a red velvet wall, down below. He was attempting to go unnoticed and to not make a scene since he felt another trap brewing from your mother, egging him on by spitting on the undercity in such a benumbed manner. 

     There was no room for you to comfort him, even silently, since holding his hand or leaning on him around your parents would most likely result in a painstakingly grueling lecture about “public decency.” If you were with someone from Piltover, then the story would have been very different, but you chose Viktor and for that you would receive no grace. 

     “Let’s not talk about work,” you smiled at her as best you could, playing the role of loving daughter for her sake. 

     “One last thing,” she tapped your father on the arm, prompting him to hand her a small letter from the inner pocket of his suit, “this came a few weeks ago. We forwarded the message to you in a letter, but you never responded so I assume you never read it.”

     A broken seal told you exactly who it was from. The Galgaridon crest looked up at you in two torn pieces from the folded piece of paper. Just as the music was beginning from the orchestra pit, you unfolded it and began reading its contents; you read at an angle so Viktor could eye it if he wanted to.

     Caston Galgaridon wrote to your family home to explain his recent honorable discharge from the Noxian military after an injury sustained on the battlefield rendered him incapable of continuing his service. Part of you knew he must have put himself in harm's way on purpose after your last talk. Whatever the reason, be it accidental or intentional as suspected, he was informing your family of his new position in becoming the new head of the foundry your parents helped build all that time ago. Meaning they would be working directly through him for their Noxian transports and business ventures. 

     At least he had the decency to not write to you directly and respect your wishes for space. Little could be said for your parents as time crawled on. 

     “Why does this concern me?” you folded the letter with its familiar creases and reclined in your seat.

     “We thought you ought to know since you will be working with him once you’re done with schooling,” your father leaned forward to see past your mother who stared at the performance with feigned indifference, “and it’s important to maintain our partnerships.”

     “I don’t see how working in Noxus is relevant to my future career endeavors.”

     “No one ever said you had to relocate to Noxus,” his dry laughter said more than you needed to know, “regardless of your living arrangements, correspondence with the young master Galgaridon is still an important partnership.”

     Down on stage there were ballet dancers leaping across the polished wooden stage over fake prop pieces of florals and grasses moving in imaginary wind as violins encouraged them on. As chimes echoed in the background, you stole a glance at Viktor who turned just as you did, perfectly in sync with your movements without a word needing to pass between you. Honey colored eyes reflected the lights of the stage in the near darkness of the theater and they were full of a sweetened understanding that you could have melted into if you were back in your rooms with him. You were itching to feel him in any kind of embrace at that moment, but the desire to keep your parents’ feathers silky smooth kept you grounded in your nauseating discomfort.

     The past always had an ugly way of dredging itself up at the most inopportune time, but at least in that moment it was less of a real threat and more of an uncomfortable suggestion from your parents. It was a sour attempt to get you out of Piltover and away from Viktor, an obvious stabbing betrayal even if you were unsure it even counted as such when they had been so open with you about their disapproval already. 

     This is lovely, you had quietly remarked, pointing out the performance, leaning towards your parents. The little gestures were your only salvation it seemed.

     Polite conversation was able to spark between the four of you once you managed to get the first few pleasant words out about anything other than responsibilities. Managing to make your parents smile at you and Viktor during comments and jests felt like pushing a rock up a steep hill, arduous, but greatly rewarding once you reached the top and were able to rest at its peak.

     By the end of the concert the choppy waters felt unusually calm, whatever storm that had been brewing was either passed or on hold. The cab that came around the front of the building, to collect the four of you, already had your belongings strapped to the rear of the large carriage. 

     The trip back to the estate was long, as the hours passed, you all dozed off at different times. All except Viktor who took to admiring the changing scenery through the window even if the night outside prevented him from seeing much past the vague silhouette every now and then once you were out of the inner city. Housing towards the edge would range from modest dwellings to smaller unkempt apartments and eventually largely spaced out manors. Wide gaps in wealth were evident even topside it seemed. 

     He couldn’t help but think those lackluster apartments were right up your combined alley when it came to affordability since you refused to use your family funds. Over the last half year, you both were more frugal with your finances. Accepting that the y/l/n family fortune could be pulled out from under you at any moment made you both carefully calculate your means of living and you made sure to stay within those boundaries.

     Viktor also knew this weekend trip was a performance at its core and he was determined to play his part as quietly as he could manage. Willing to seem invisible for your sake and to not stir your parents’ emotions into barring down on you with their unrelenting barrage of disapproving opinions. Difficult as it was, considering he was usually emboldened at the academy, more confident in his field and among his colleagues. 

     Thankfully he managed to speak to your parents about his work when they appeared to ask with a genuine interest, prodding him to reveal his plans. 

******

Lush green hedges surrounded the property, or at least the innermost part of the property that contained the main house and gardens; it did not include the long drive up through manicured rolling landscapes and trees spotted throughout the scene. Leaves and twigs were collected in muslin sacks for disposal after the annual pruning and new buds were well into blossoming in time for the season. Birds skirted across a pond, rippling through the glass surface with beautiful disturbance coupled with their cacophony of squawks and honks. 

     Home was back at the academy for you, but there would always be a bittersweet nostalgia in returning to the estate for visits and this time was no different. You stepped out of the motorized carriage first, followed by Viktor and your parents in succession. Moonlight and lanterns provided a glow that came off in a haze against the evening mist. Starlight dappled in the blanket of night overhead and you wished to spend more time outside with Viktor in the fresh air, but you were hurriedly rushed inside by your parents who were too eager to show off their abode to a newcomer. 

     Even if Viktor was not their ideal guest, they were desperately trying to save face. Most of their disdain of him had been private comments made directly to you, so they must have thought he was none the wiser regarding their opinions of him.

     Given the late hour, the tour was rather short. They only showed him where they would be dining for breakfast, should you both like to join them that early, and the parlor where they spent most of their free time. Free time did not come often for your parents, but you assumed this weekend they would be lounging for once since they insisted on your staying over.

     “Don’t be shy about exploring. I’m sure y/n will take you around at some point as well,” your father passed through the large double doors that opened into a corridor not too far from your room. “Your things have been brought to the bedroom already, so you may retire if you wish.”

     Bidding your parents goodnight, you accepted their offer to be excused and took Viktor with you. 

     “I wish they were this nice all of the time,” you mumbled over your shoulder to Viktor once you were a few turns and rooms away from them. “They were so polite to you, why can’t it be real?”

     “Don’t concern yourself over things you cannot control.” Viktor followed you through the doors to your room, pulling the handles closed behind him with a low snap of pins falling into place and the lock setting. “For now, let's just be happy we’ve made it this far.”

    He was right. Fretting over wishes and complaints were never going to amount to anything and you were feeling more at ease being alone with him in the privacy of your room.

     Something you could control was at your fingertips. It teased at your tongue as you were feeling too shy to openly ask for anything explicit. Sitting on the edge of your canopy bed proved more than enough for a hint when Viktor joined you without suggestion. Evening clothes began to feel suffocating as you lost yourselves in a tangle of limbs and pleading whispers.

******

Morning came with a vengeance. You were undisturbed by maids or your parents, left to rest at your own leisure with Viktor in your bed and the curtains were still pulled back from the night before. Neither of you thought to close them which let the blinding white reflection of the sun wake you since you were facing large glass doors across the room. Scenic lawns softened the blow of the harsh sunlight and you blinked against its glow as a few squirrels sprinted across the window sill in leaping bounds, cheeks full of their gathering spoils.

     Blankets tempted you to remain in bed, but the idea of any staff or your parents poking in to check on you prompted you to drag yourself from the plush den and get ready for the day. Pushing open the double doors and opening the remaining curtains to let in more light, you wake Viktor up in the process. 

     Despite how sleepy you both still felt, there was something in the air that you couldn’t explain. It was like the hotel room when you got a taste of domesticity away from the academy together, playing pretend for a little while before having to return to work and research all while feeling like teenagers in adult bodies. 

     “I could get used to this,” Viktor held your hand with a reverence that made you blush when you sat next to him on his side of the bed where he was still laying.

     “The nice house?”

     “No,” his eyes closed, still tired, “this feeling, in this room. It’s like we’re married.”

     “Would you want to?” You moved your two hands together further implying what he just said.

     “Eventually.”

******

Easels with abandoned paintings were pushed into a corner of glass and plaster, leaving room for a large open space of stone that made up the floor to the old studio. Days were once spent toiling away at those easels much to the behest of your family, pouring your soul into the pieces that could only be referenced from the windows beyond your enclosure and images you had seen elsewhere during excursions or from books. There were plenty of those to go around in your home, but taking your art supplies out of the estate and beyond the property grounds was restricted. Encouragement for your creative hobbies was nonexistent since it was only seen as just that, a hobby and nothing more. Cursed be the day you first asked your mother for your beginner set of paints and a canvas. Over time your parents softened to the idea of you pursuing a meaningful pastime, giving you a wide berth for creative study under the guise of it remaining a hobby and you played that part as well as you could for years.

     Windows made up a wall of glass, an old sunroom connected to your bedroom through a short hallway only accessible to you. It must have once been a modest sitting room before the estate grew too large for it and it was abandoned until you burrowed your way into it as a child while exploring. Ivy still grew on the back of the house unlike the front where it was completely cleared away for structural integrity. 

     You were not about to thew Viktor in the history of your home and meaning of all of the rooms. Bringing him to your old studio was more of a thing of boredom and meandering through the halls with him until you thought to visit the old room which felt so strange after all that time away. Dust dated the years you were away despite your infrequent visits to the estate, the studio went on abandoned. 

     Chatter about the room ranged from explaining what mysterious containers and cups contained, since you were awful at labeling things outside of a shared classroom setting, to shyly tucking away old lackluster art that once left you for want of improved talent. 

     “It’s a time capsule,” Viktor looked around with curiosity, pretending he didn’t notice you stuffing a large drawing between canvases to his side. Those small graces were everything to you even if you knew full well you couldn’t get much past him even if you tried.

     “You can say that.”

     “You’ve always been an artist. I find that inspiring, to have held onto a passion this long with the opposition you’ve received because of it.”

     Red creeped up your face, or at least that was how it felt when your heart hammered at his words. Inspiration was a dry well and your addled mind was unable to accept that Viktor found it in you in some way. How you had managed to keep the man before you in your life for so long would continue to elude you and you were just thankful he showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. 

     “Where do you see us,” it was too late to retract once the words fell out of your blabbering mouth, “in a year or so?” His comment from that morning was worming through your brain.

     His sudden stoic expression, deep in thought, did nothing for your nerves so you continued to drone on in the hopes of answering your own stupid question or forcing him to move on and not answer you at all. The latter would have been better.

     “I mean, nothing serious, I’m not talking about- um - future plans with you and me,” you rubbed your forehead aggressively trying to find the right words to not scare him away. After a minute or so of rambling you gave up trying to sound coherent. “Forget I said anything.”

     “I’m assuming you only want me to respond regarding our careers, though I’d be glad to entertain ideas of what we’ll be in the future together,” his confidence in your relationship was unclear in the way he answered you so you asked him to not elaborate and instead let him talk about what you both might be doing once schooling was over. 

     With academics nearing a close, you wondered where he would work and if you would both become so busy you would belong to your jobs and lose time to live in the real world. Both of your fields were demanding and not conducive of a healthy atmosphere for maintaining a proper relationship if you were not careful with time management. 

     Viktor knew not to lose himself in his work, but you hadn’t a clue what the future had in store and how he would change, how he could change if circumstances forced his hand. Just the thought of losing the man in front of you made your stomach turn as you chatted through these possibilities without sounding too desperate for all of your curiosities to be answered in confidence. 

     “What if I hold you back?” You lamented, leaning against the glass overlooking those grassy fields you memorized as a child. “I want you to be great and belong to your work however you see fit without worrying about…me.”

     Whether you wanted to admit it aloud or not, you were unsure if this blissful companionship with Viktor would outlast your school days once you were both free of the academy should you both get jobs away from its labs. No matter what you did, Viktor would most likely become a successful researcher and inventor which would take him to the workshop guilds while your mother had hinted you’d be traveling to Noxus once you joined the family business.

     The future didn’t look prime for you and Viktor. 

     Arms encircled you, secure and warm in the room of glass. 

     “I am yours,” his face was set and calm in the effort to assure you without having to give you any grand speeches, “entirely and unconditionally.”

******

Entirely and unconditionally swam around your mind sweetly for the rest of the day and gave you some reprieve as you entertained your parents even though you and Viktor were supposed to be the guests. Instead of feeling as if it were the other way around, you were the one up in front of the couches by the grand fireplace telling them stories about school and from books much to your parent’s delight. 

     Animated gestures and vocal cues made their faces lighten up with a childish glee even when Viktor would chime in on your stories from where he sat in the overly ornate armchair. Despite having your parents there, it was nice to relive your memories from the academy with Viktor. 

     “Do you have any stories from the Kiraman labs?” Your mother leaned forward on her elbows as you turned the events of your lab over, organizing your thoughts to see if there were any comical stories. 

     “Not many involving me, but there have been a few explosions here and there from the other researchers,” your eyes glued to an ugly wall decoration across the room as you thought over it. “Well I was working on a project recently and the whole thing fell over into a mess of parts and gears.”

     You went on to tell them how that day had been an inventor’s disaster and you were at your wits end with the way your projects had been going and you detailed the whirlwind that was your office. It got to the part where you bumped into an old classmate that kindly assisted you with repairing your project, helping you progress with it further than you had before if ever fell.

     “So you do have friends,” your father jested. 

     For some reason it made you uncomfortable to think of it that way especially when you kept Jayce’s name out of it, “no we were just classmates a long time ago.”

     “But they remembered you anyways, must’ve been a memorable class,” your father let out a blubbering chuckle. “Who was it anyways?”

     Your neck felt cool from sweat and you regretted finishing the story, wishing you had left it after the part where you stormed away from the fallen project, “It doesn’t matter. No one important.”

     “Oh come now,” he leaned back in his seat and blew out a thick cloud from his pipe. “Worried I might know their parents like when you were a child?”

     “No it’s just he-”

     “A gentleman!” Your mother chimed in like you were all playing a guessing game.

     “And he works at the Kiraman labs, dear,” your father chattered away with guesses with your mother as you rolled your eyes, grinning uncomfortably at Viktor, “must be from a prominent family.”

     “Wrong again,” you teased knowing full well Jayce was from a lower house like you, but it was not as full of grandeur and prestige as your father was imagining.

     “Well play fair then, give us some decent clues,” your mother was all smiles and you managed to mirror her enthusiasm even if it was much calmer in comparison. 

     You stopped the makeshift game before it really took off, throwing yourself into another story that featured you and Viktor having lunch with Sky during the school trip so long ago. It seemed to satisfy their cravings for drama when part of the story was about a conversation the three of you unwillingly heard from a table over at the restaurant. 

     Throughout the rest of your social time with your parents, you’d occasionally catch Viktor looking at you with knit brows. It was unusual for him to stare at you like that and you knew it was because you refused to give up Jayce’s name during the storytelling. You hadn’t really told him about that day in the lab aside from having a hard time and he didn’t know who Jayce was at all, as far as you knew, since it seemed their paths had never crossed. 

     Inevitability gave you fair warning that he was going to ask you about who the mystery classmate was that night when you were back in your room trying to sleep. 

     Dinner time was easier since your parents had their friends join all of you that evening. This time you weren’t the only one telling stories; now it was your parent’s turn to peacock and entertain. Whether their friends actually cared was another matter since a few of them continued to mutter about business if the room would grow too quiet. 

     When it was loud with laughter, you had some semblance of privacy being able to talk with Viktor where you were both tucked away at the edge of the crowd. There you could talk about what you were going to do once you were free of this place and back at the academy. 

     Viktor seemed different, not upset, but tired of being around people who must have been weighing him down from how loud they were. The mystery classmate was in the back of his mind even if he knew it was irrational to worry. Keeping secrets was something he never did to you besides the occasional white lie that he wasn’t tired, he wasn’t in pain, or a new dish you worked hard to make was definitely not burnt. But this felt different in the way you held his hand in reassurance and gave him your full attention when he so much as cleared his throat. 

     “Relax,” he whispered after you asked him if anything was wrong for the fifth time that evening. It wasn’t a command and more of a sweetly delivered suggestion which put you in some ease, or at least stopped you from asking again. 

******

It was left unsaid, all of your shared thoughts over Jayce. You didn’t want to tell him who it was and part of him didn’t really want to know despite the curiosity. 

     “You know you can be honest with me,” Viktor said more so to the cloth above then directly to you, staring at the velvet canopy of your bed in the near darkness. 

     You were reading by your dimly warm bedside light when he broke the quiet. Closing the book carefully, you set it aside, “you’re talking about the story… from the lab.”

     His silence was your answer.

     “He was just an old classmate,” you leaned back, “I didn’t like my parents prying.”

     “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to do the same,” he sighed, “but I know he wasn’t just a classmate.”

     Hammering in your chest did nothing for your nerves and you tried to keep your breathing level once you remembered nothing got past Viktor. 

     “I didn’t-”

     “I know you didn’t cheat,” he laughed a little which put you at ease, “but you have history with him-” you covered his mouth, but he easily freed himself, “and that’s ok. I was just curious.”

     Talking helped. From gasps of surprise to laughing about things that were once very painful, Viktor told you about a night years ago where he came to see you late at night before you shared a dorm and before you ever began seeing each other exclusively. You listened wide eyed realizing he never brought it up with you before because he knew it was none of his business. He’d even forgotten about it until the mysterious classmate was brought up and he connected the dots since he knew you never really slept around back then either. There was no room to do so since you used to be attached at the hip even as friends. 

     “I’m so embarrassed,” you laughed at yourself thinking of that night you had answered the door as a disheveled mess, knowing Jayce had been hiding in the blankets.

     Viktor caught his breath after his own bout of laughter at something you said. It felt good to finally let go of the guilt even if he still didn’t ask you who the man was and you were content with keeping it that way. 

     We should get married, you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper as you were in and out of sleep after what felt like hours of joking around fighting it off. 

     Rational thought told you marriage was not in your future and you didn’t care much for the idea anyways. The tradition and pressure was an uninviting thought and you itched at the image of your parents weeping for the loss of your status by marrying down. It wasn’t like marriage would make much of a difference in your shared lives anyways.

     In the morning you both got up early and left when the fog was still thick across the grass fields and trees. It was a long drive back to the academy and you were ready to return to the dorms and close the curtains on this whole affair of entertaining your parents. 

******

[sugar-softies]

Quickly wrote up an idea @soft-fella gave me as we talked about everything pigs >:3c

When a spy was discovered in the baron's home, the guards wasted no time in chasing after them.

The chase led them throughout the large ringed city, but came to an abrupt end as the spy, Lex, rushed into a pigfolk community.

Lex was a shapeshifter, probably the rarest species in a diverse city, which was why they'd become a spy in the first place. There was good money in blending into the background and finding dirt on the richest and most powerful. Their abilities had gotten them into and then out of this trouble, as they changed shape into a pigfolk and quickly tried to steady their breath after running into the crowd.

“Whoa, where do you think you're going?”

They were surprised to find the red river hog was talking to the guards, and not them.

“Step aside. You're interfering with the pursuit of a criminal.” A guard stepped forward, putting his hand on his gun.

The river hog didn't look impressed, neither did the other pigfolk beginning to amass by the entrance to their community.

Then they said those four magic words: “Let's see a warrant.”

That had been two days ago.

“What's your status?”

Lex sighed and went to pinch the bridge of their nose, forgetting that they'd had a snout for the past two days. They'd been stuck in a shape for a long time before but never this long. It just wasn't safe to change back, pigfolk had a strong sense of community and that meant they didn't see much of a problem in just walking into someone's house or tent.

“The guards are still patrolling around the community, and they know I can change shape so they've got snipers looking for anyone flying out of here,” she said, adjusting the video communicator in their hooves.

Ven sighed, their strange purple eyes narrowing in the billowing smoke that made up their body. “We need those blueprints.”

“And I'll get them to you as soon as I can!” They pulled the small copper colored disc out from their cleavage. “I gotta go,” she added, quickly hanging up and hiding the communicator and disc back between their breasts as a boar ducked his head into her tent.

“Hey, you hungry? We've got a sounder stew going.”

“I'm fine, thanks.” They refused politely.

“C’mon, I haven't seen you eat since we met yesterday.” The boar didn't take no for an answer in the friendliest way, taking her hoof and leading them out of the tent.

The boar was named Thren, and as far as Thren knew Lex was named Apel and had moved into the community recently. There were dozens of pigfolk communities all around the city, and they all supported each other happily.

Thren brought Apel out to the sounder kitchen- basically town square- an area filled with cooking implements and a big well tended fire.

He found her a seat before quickly returning with two bowls of hearty, spicy stew.

“How do you like it here so far?” He asked, sipping from his own bowl.

Lex didn't see any spoons so she did the same.

“It's alright,” they said. “It's a little more… Well, more, than I’m used to. I never get a moment alone… You guys are really just all like that?”

“Well, not all of us.” Thren chuckled and nodded at an old sow that was shaking her fist and shouting at some giggling piglets.

“I mean-” they said carefully. “There's a shapeshifter hidden somewhere, you think we'd be a little more cautious.”

“Why?”

“Because… They're hiding among us?”

“So?” Thren shrugged. “They were running from the guard, and the guard is no friend of ours. We can suspect people later, after they’ve been helped.”

“... that's dumb,” Lex snorted. “A good way to get yourself killed.”

“Well it's kept you alive, hasn't it?”

Lex startled and looked over at Thren, who gave her a playful smirk. “If you want people to think you're one of us you should be less cynical and be more hungry.” He gestured to her stew.

Lex blinked, then took his advice and took another sip.

It was really good stew after all.

It was all really good, they learned.

Fried mushrooms and spicy peppers, roasted chicken with carrots, steak and potatoes, warm gooey cookies, the strongest ales and whiskeys she'd ever had-

And it wasn't just the food. It was the sleeping well past noon while cuddling in a big warm pile, resting in the pools of hot water pumped up from the hot springs below the city and then wallowing in cooling mud that had done wonders for their skin.

And it was Thren.

Thren with his stupidly strong arms and round belly, his unstoppable kindness and sense of humor.

Months passed, the guards left… But Lex didn't.

“Status?” Ven raised an eyebrow at Lex's appearance on screen as they asked.

“Oh, um-” Lex chuckled as Thren offered them another slice of cheese and meat. Ven couldn't see that from their point of view though, all they saw was Lex's round happy face and triple chins. They did however see as Lex popped the snack into her snout.

“Lex! Status!” They said desperately.

“Does it matter?” Lex whined, then sighed happily as Thren rubbed her enormous belly, lifting it and giving it a jiggle before feeding her a piece of fruit. “Look, just send someone to come get the blueprints I'm-” she paused to burp, smiling as Thren patted her belly approvingly. “I'm not coming back. I can't even change shape anymore.”

“Lex!”

“Call me Apel,” they insisted before hanging up, tossing the communicator aside. “Do we have more of the beef?” they asked Thren breathlessly.

“Mhmm.” He fed her another bite and kissed their temple.

[safety-pin-punk]

Hey Key,

It feels appropriate to ask you whether I can vent this but I figure tumblr anon communication is a bit slow.

So I was on my way back to my college town on Easter Monday

An acquaintance (not friend) of mine visited family in the same city so we decided to take a train together

Frame of reference: I’m 25NB, she’s 20FTM (she prefers her feminine given name and she/her since she isn’t actively transitioning yet)

We are both physically disabled and mentally ill

Being the queer neurodivergent I am, I went !!! at her and immediately started talking because hey, commonalities!

Half an hour in we moved on from physical disability to talking about the mental stuff and I mention I’m self-do autistic. And she goes “Nah. You can’t be.” And I go “Huh?” “You’re too talkative! You’re ADHD, yes, but you are too social and talkative to be autistic.”

Like… gee, man, maybe because we have met a few times and immediately clocked you as queer and neurodivergent? You think that might be why I’m comfortable talking rapid-fire?

“Nah, we don’t know each other that well, so that can’t be it.”

Right… and then she told me she doesn’t “want to endorse self-dx” because she thinks she might be hypochondriac and therefor any and all self-dx or preemptive diagnose “might make things worse because I think it’s worse than it is”

Like, yes, I understand and she explained she does experience psychosomatic symptoms in response to being stressed/ burnt out. I don’t deny psychosomatic responses. I believe that.

But also she straight-up refuses to look up anything that might help her?? When we were talking about physical disability (we both have chronic pain) I immediately pulled out my phone to send some coping ressources and self-help stuff

And she went “no, I never look at [coping] things, I worry if I read that, I will just convince myself that I’m worse than I actually am.”

Which, okay, reasonable boundary…

I told her about how I started using a walking cane, on my own, decided for myself that it helps. And also how most of my splints/ bandages are self-bought and self-administered because no doctor acknowledged my chronic pain so far.

And she goes “I sometimes have days where I have to drag my leg. I’m like-paraplegic when my psychosomatic symptoms get to their worst. But I would never use a cane! I don’t want to stand out, you know? I don’t want to catch attention.”

And I’m sitting there screaming internally like “You are entitled to be seen! You deserve accommodations! You just said some days you could use a wheelchair!! What the FUCK?!”

Yeah… and the longer our talk goes on, the more I read between the lines that she believes “if I do everything right, it will mostly go away”

Like, she forced herself to stick to “fibro-diet” to combat her rheuma and fibro, which is great on the surface. And then she tells me she forces herself out of bed and forces herself to cook, even if she doesn’t feel like eating, but she just pushes through because “the anti/inflammation diet can help with rheumatism”

And just– …my internal screaming continued.

I don’t want to dislike her! I recognise she’s young(er) and she’s naive and blue-eyed. While I’m just a cynic who’s been depressed for the majority of my life and I stopped giving a fuck about “not standing out” because my neurodivergent ass is too autistic and too ADHD to interact with people without standing out

Like, I’m ““high-functioning”” but at the same time I’m the kind of autistic who never had the chance to fit in. I have always been and will always be “the standoffish weird kid”.

But I just feel bad for her and at the same time I know I don’t want to become friends with someone who’s this blue-eyed “it will all be good if I just do the right thing”

I’m frustrated with her as an acquaintance and I just know if she tries to become my friend I have to give her sooooo many lectures

Among all these other things about how she is allowed to be non-binary and how she doesn’t need HRT to be trans and how she doesn’t have to cower in fear of changes HRT would do to her body because even if she’s binary FTM nobody’s forcing her to go on testo.

Just… so much frustration after this one 3h train ride :/

Fully agree, tumblr anon communication is very slow. Especially on my blog. I go through moods where I answer a bunch of things at once and then dont for a while. (sorry) Long post under cut

First of all, I am so sorry about your friend invalidating your self-dx autism. Personally I'm all for self-dx, anyone whose dealt with doctors long enough knows how hard, how many hoops you have to jump through, and the amount of time and money required to get diagnosed with ANYTHING. I've definitely dealt with my fair share of non-medical professionals telling me both "You dont have this thing I have" but also "You definitely have this thing I dont have".

I see why you are frustrated by someone seemingly not wanting to help themselves. But it seems like she is trying, she just has never been exposed to the right resources to help her. Its kinda like. I went to a SUPER christian university, and there was this gay guy, wonderful dude. His view of his own queerness though? I had only read about people like him online until I met him. He was a pastors son, his whole life he grew up knowing that being gay was wrong and bad. He never had access to the resources he needed to learn how to love that part of himself. Not his own fault at all, but by the time he got to college, there was no changing his views. He now goes around preaching to other kids about his experiences being gay and how he represses it because God. He absolutely broke my heart.

My point it, your friend is young and naieve. She probably has never had access to the resources and information you have. Her experiences have probably been *wildly* different from yours. You can't force a 'fuck it' attitude onto someone like that. You just kinda have to wait and hope they grow into it on their own. Theres nothing wrong with not wanting to be friends with someone like that though. You are responsible for currating your own social experiences. I completely understand your frustration with the whole situation though.

[marierg]

A Simple Wish

Pairing: Comander Cody x Rowan Atwater OC (written as a reader insert)

Rating: Everybody! (for this chapter at least)

(regular world AU/ zapped into reality AU/ fix-it AU?)

Warnings: holiday depressie, loneliness, language, Hurt/comfort/fluff/comedy...

Honestly though this may get a little more interesting and reflective later so... we'll see.

A/N: So I noticed that some of the peeps (actually a lot of us) are in the bleak midwinter rut and one in particular inspired this little story. @spicyclones79s I hope this is a good start

Masterlist Next

Another year and another Christmas spent on your own. With everything being so expensive you couldn't afford to fly home. Not that your Command would give you more than a few days leave anyway, such was military life. Well only a few months left till you hit your ETS and then you'd be outta here. If they wouldn't let you fly combat anymore and the Doc could give you a medical discharge without it interfering with a Civilian flying job then all the better.

To top all of it off this week you'd been trying to kick a cold but damned if it wasn't turning into a sinus infection. Still it was Christmas Eve, tradition demanded that you make some cookies and prepare for Santa to drop off presents. Silly as it was you still wanted to have a Christmas like when you were a kid. So you made a hot toddy (extra strong), set out the cookies and lay down on the couch.

Glancing out the window you caught sight of a shooting star. Maybe there was still something of the bright eyed kid you had once been underneath all the cynicism and pain. Perhaps it was simply that every human looked to the stars in wonder and hope. Closing your eyes and snuggled under the thick fleece blanket you made a wish, "Hey Santa, if you're out there, don't suppose you could send me a friend? Maybe someone brave and smart and patient..."

Glancing at your entertainment center, eye catching on your DVD set of the Clone Wars you smirked. Chuckling at the thought you went for broke, why not. "If Marshal Commander Cody isn't busy for the next oh... forty years that'd be awesome!"

With a little drunken giggle you lay back and drifted off to sleep.

It was just past one in the morning when a solid thud and some creative cursing summoned your mind back to semi consciousness. You thought it might be some of the dude bros from across the hall coming home after too much holiday cheer at the bar. So you rolled over and went back to sleep.

"Can anyone hear me? Hello? Rex..."

Oh this was Kriffing great. Cody couldn't believe this. One minute he's about to be shot while escaping the Empire, the next he's standing in some strange domicile. Glancing around Cody noted the lower use of technology and the darkness outside the windows. He was definitely not where he had been just a few moments ago.

It was a small apartment of some form, second floor above a small town street. Cody also noticed the woman who was asleep on the couch. It was far too dark to take in all her features, but pretty none the less. Easing his way through the space (was that a tree of some form?) and closer to the window he further confirmed that he was not where he should be. Vehicles rolling on wheels, no discernable space port, "Where in Sith hells am I?"

Hearing a distinctly deep, male voice you peeked your eyes open again. Holy shit there was someone in your apartment! Fueled by liquid courage and pure pissed off rage you took the throw pillow and began to bash the stranger. "TAKE THAT YOU CREEP!"

"What the-," Cody wasn't sure if he was being beaten by the small hellion or if this was their way of saying hello. Grabbing the soft cushion out of their hands he took his helmet off with the other. "Whoa.. Hold on... I can explain!"

"Alexa lights on!" The room illuminated immediately. You're not sure what hit the floor first the pillow from his hand or your jaw. "You're... You're..."

Cody had to move quickly to catch the poor little thing as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Great, just great. Placing her back on the padded lounger he elevated her feet and checked her pulse, "Poor girl, must have scared her... hey you still with me?"

Blinking open your eyes you looked up into kind brown ones full of concern. Oh yeah you had had way too much to drink or you were dreaming... except the pounding headache only confirmed that neither of those could be true. The man pulled his gloves off and brushed the hair back from your face, hallucinations weren't solid and they couldn't manipulate your body. Nor do they chuckle when you reach up and touch their face. That scar is so distinctive that there was no question. Squinting at the man you took a deep breath, "Commander Cody?"

"Yes! Do I know you?" Cody lit up at the fact that this Nat born seemed to recognize him.

Watching the man closely you placed the flat of your hand on his cheek, shaking as it was. You couldn't believe it, he was actually here. How? How could he be here?!

"I need to get back, but I don't know where I am?" Cody could see that you were still coming around. He could only hope that you could help him. "Ma'am I need to get back to my brothers they're in trouble."

"You're in North Dakota... Earth." You saw the confusion on his face, you sat up biting your lip. This was the kind of thing that happened in books and TV, not real life. Yet here stood none other than one of the hero's of the grand army of the republic. Giving yourself a good pinch just to confirm that this was real you saw as the man smirked.

"I promise I mean you no harm," Cody wasn't quite sure why he found your reaction so funny but it felt good to laugh. Holding your gaze he tried again, "Is there a spaceport nearby?"

Blowing out a breath you looked at the façade of calm the Commander held to. You'd had that same look many a time in the past and as then you settled on being blunt with the situation. "I'm afraid you're a long way from home Commander."

Cody felt his gut drop, though he tried to remember what General Kenobi would say about the Force working in mysterious ways. The question remained though, "And how do you know me?"

"It's complicated... and I don't think you're going to believe me." Grimacing you sigh, "I don't even think I believe it."

Carefully taking the woman's hand in his own Cody gave it a reassuring squeeze, "Try me."

The next few hours were spent talking, arguing, and confirming the few known facts as the two were able to put together. Cody was not in his own galaxy or time. That after viewing a small clip of a holo film series showing him and his brothers, you explained that he was considered a fictional character. You had been kind enough to take him to the roof to confirm there was not a single recognizable constellation in the sky even. This was a far more primitive world than his own as well, the mechanical devices looked like they were put together by a group of cadets. No, Cody was not where he was supposed to be, nor could either of you explain how he came to be here. He seriously doubted it was because of a wish on a star.

You had been terrified as Cody revealed to you what had been happening right before landing in your living room. That one revelation made you grateful to whatever power had sent him, glad beyond measure that it saved him. Then you were heartbroken seeing the hopeless, lonely look on his face as it started to set in that there was no way to send him home. As you came back to the couch you handed him a cup of tea, "I'm really sorry Commander, truly."

"It's not your fault Rowan, I just wish I knew how they are? If they're safe?" He couldn't yet sip the tea, if he drank it then that meant accepting that this was real, that he was really and truly stuck in this place.

Sitting opposite him you took a deep breath, "I can tell you what I know, at least how the story has been told here. Rex and Wolffe survive and fight against the Empire, Gregor too. Boba is the Daimyo of Tattoine."

"And the others? Wooley, Boil, Fox?"

"I can't say for certain, I'm sorry. But I will tell you that Rex saw the fall of the Empire for sure. He even fought on Endor with the rebel forces there in the beginning of the end. You can be really proud of him," reaching across to pat his hand you felt horrible. This was all your fault!

Cody took hold of your comforting touch, it wasn't often clones were treated kindly by natborns. He felt the momentary stiffness but then the relaxation as he just held on to you. Cautious little thing, but you hadn't crumpled under the impossible situation and instead were being an anchor for him. Cody smiled at your compliment to his brothers, "I'm always proud of my Vod'e."

"I'm sorry... for everything." For all he endured, all that he faced now it wasn't fair. The clones had done nothing wrong and still they had been used. A great many of your fellows felt the same.

Cody chuffed and smirked, "I sincerely doubt that you're at fault."

The two of you sat for a minute not sure what the next step should be. Being of a practical mind and also a tired body you took a deep breath and tried to make the next right choice. "Well in the mean time you're staying here. Why don't you get comfortable and I'll get some blankets. We can work on it more in the morning."

Cody chuffed out a breath, "Is that an order?"

"You got a better offer?" You sassed back.

That did get a laugh out of Cody, "Aye Ma'am."

After he had gotten settled on your, sofa he thought you called it, Cody watched again as you paused in the doorway glancing back at him. There was something serene about you, a kindness that was like a balm to the ills of the world. It was unique and beautiful to him.

"Good night Commander."

"You can call me by my name Rowan." Cody did chuckle at the flush rising in your cheeks, "Only my troopers call me by my rank."

"Oh, of course... I mean duh..." Oh well done, such an intelligent response Ro. Squinting and blinking your eyes open in embarrassment you turned, "Goodnight Cody, sleep well."

Cody rather liked seeing you all flustered, it was karking adorable. Mischief taking his better judgement he rolled pulling the blankets up, "Goodnight mesh'la."

"Oh my...night!" You quickly closed the door. Oh Ro what have you gotten yourself into now? settling under your own blankets you closed your eyes. and somewhere between the waking and the dreams you thanked the stars. One soldier safe for another night.

As he rolled and started to drift the commander was set to the side leaving simply the man. Cody may not know where he was or how to get home, but he felt safe here with you. Strange situation aside, for the first time in a very long time Cody relaxed enough to fall into an exhausted, deep sleep. No nightmares of battle droids, no screams, just the quiet of the night.

Tags:

@spicyclones79s @the-rain-on-kamino @arctrooper69

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #19] Send To All

warnings: plot stuff!! no smut!!! another cw: jiyeong lol

a/n: this header not being square drives me insane and i could fix it but reuploads are laborious enough as it is lol

soundtrack: self-sabotage - waterparks (this is one of THE bd songs for me hehe)

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

If time flies when you're having fun, then you think it's fair to say you're having the worst day of your life.

Okay, so that's a little dramatic, but your shift has been excruciatingly slow; the hands of the clock above the door taunting you every time you glance in its direction. Admittedly, you are looking at it every 10 seconds or so,  which is making it a hell of a lot more disappointing than it really ought to be.

From the desk, Hoseok watches you with sympathetic intrigue. You've cleaned the same empty table four times now just for something to do. Work is quiet, so distractions are limited.

You had only picked up an extra shift so you that didn't have to spend the entire afternoon letting your imagination run wild thinking about Jeongguk's date - but apparently, your mind didn't get the memo.

The thoughts trundle around your boardgame brain; passing 'go', collecting £200. It skips over the chance card tiles, and opts out of buying anything other than Mayfair. It's the only property you want, and yet you never seem to land on it. Sucks, but such is life.

"You'll wear a hole through the table if you keep scrubbing at it," Hoseok says softly as he takes the cloth from you.

"Sorry," you hum. An awkward smile is offered, as loose hairs fall around your face, glitter caught in the strands that dance in the low evening light. You're even more haphazard than usual today, Hoseok thinks. You choose to explain it away. "Just nervous about Tae's show. That's all. Trying to get a head start on things."

"It's an art space," he says warmly, not wanting you to think he's being critical. The way he smiles is gentle; the creases in the corner of his eyes are even more so. "No one is expecting it to be free of paint. If anything, quite the opposite."

He's right. You know it. It's why you make no opposition when he encourages you back to the desk, and guides you into the chair by the till. There's only one couple in the far corner. Young. Teenagers, maybe. You wonder if they'll make it through university. Likely not.

Cynical bint, you berate yourself. Plenty of people stay with their high school sweethearts. You'd met potentially the best example you'd ever seen of the cliche last night, in the form of the Min's.

You understand entirely why Yoongi adores Seoyeon, so. There had been an ease to her acceptance of you; as if she was inherently meant to nurture those around her, no matter how unfamiliar they may be. By the time you had left the Min's - a little tipsy and with Jeongguk's arm around your shoulders - you'd felt a warm sense of belonging in her company.

There's quiet concern on Hoseok's face a little while later as he watches you dip your bagel into a pot of cream cheese.

The magnitude of his concern only increases when you sink your teeth into the bread and tear it apart.  You're like a tiger ripping apart raw flesh, he thinks.

The scowl that settles on your lips as you chew is only wiped away when you take a sip of your coffee - but there's still a frown polluting your expression.

It's sort of cute how your cheek bulges from the sheer amount of bagel your manage to stuff in there, but Hoseok's worried you'll choke.

"Want a knife?" he asks as you dip the bagel back into the pot.

You look at him - bagel clamped between your teeth, just about to be torn in two - and scowl. Yanking the bagel, you tear it even further apart. He gulps. Shouldn't have asked. Never interrupt a girl and her food. He knows this. Should have known better.

It's just a bad mood, you think. No need for Hoseok to look at you as if you have three heads.

Just a bad mood.

Across town, in a ceramic painting place you've been following on Instagram for ages now but have never visited, Jeongguk laughs.

There's a dimple sitting prettily in his cheek, his teeth on full display, nose a little bit scrunched. He's trying to be quiet - doesn't want to distract the rest of the people in the pottery studio - but there's something so damn funny about Jiyeong's inability to paint anything that even remotely resembles a frog.

She pouts, and lowers her brush. "Stop! I'm trying!"

But then she smiles, too.

No one else notices. They're all far too distracted by their own masterpieces.

It's annoying, because Jeongguk really has created a masterpiece.

Having both been totally clueless as to what to decorate their mugs with, the ceramics instructor suggested taking inspiration from their favourite childhood fairytales. Jeongguk had gone for Little Red Riding Hood - Jiyeong had taken great pleasure in telling him she'd been Little Red for Halloween - and Jiyeong had gone for the Princess and the Frog.

"I know," he grins, as he tries to pretend as if it's not the most god-awful frog he's ever seen. It's kinda cute. In a hideous, kind of way. "You're doing great - no! Really. You are it. It's like... an abstract version of the story."

"Look," she sighs, her pretty face all pouty and perfect despite her hardships. The smile on her face is genuine, and Jeongguk is sort of glad that she's not great at the whole 'art' thing. He doubts it would be half as much fun if she was any good. "Your friend never mentioned there'd be art involved - I fucking suck at arty things."

"Art is subjective-" he goes to reassure her, but she's having none of it. Shakes her head as she laughs. Makes him laugh too. It's easy. The flirting, the fooling around like kids in art class. Almost nostalgic. She's exactly the kind of girl he'd have gone for in his younger years - confident, a reckless tease, remarkably tactile. It makes him wonder why he ever strayed from his 'type'.

Hayun had been a bit of an anomaly. Different. She was a quiet one - cautious, but casual. Funny in a way that Jeongguk couldn't quite understand, but desperately wanted to. Reserved. His childishness had often been met with rolled eyes, and the lack of clear indication about her feelings made him insecure. Put him on edge. Even when they started hooking up. Actually, no. Especially when they had started hooking up.

His strangeness has been making a welcome comeback as of late, as noted by Yoongi a few months ago in Dionysus. You've helped in immeasurable ways. Ways you won't ever be able to understand.

It's Jiyeong's openness - the way she touches his arm, how she dabs at his fingers with her paintbrush - that lets him know she's interested. It stifles the fear. Fills him with confidence.

"You're allowed to say I suck," she grins, leaning into him a little bit. The scent of her perfume picks up in the electric heater, and he finds that he likes it. It's not his favourite, no, but it's pretty nice. Citrusy. He prefers things a little warmer, a little more vanilla. Toasted coconut. Sweet.

He momentarily loses his train of thought. Thinks about the way your hair had smelt in the bakery aisle of the supermarket. Thinks about the way he always lets his nose nestle into the crown of your head before you shower together. Thinks about your room, and how it smells like that - sweet, coconutty - and how the last time he'd been in your room, he'd been inside of-

NOPE.

That thought is very quickly pushed deep down into the darkness of his brain. He can't be thinking about that . Not now.

"Yeah, it's pretty fucking bad," he nods instead, turning his attention back to her mug.

It's impossible for her to take offence when he looks as sweet as he does. He's in a white shirt - bad choice, considering there are speckles of paint all over his arms and even a tiny bit on his cheek - and black slacks, but the look is pulled off so well.

In fact, his outfit is borderline identical to what he wore to the Min's. You'd said he'd looked good. Said that it would be a good date outfit.  And so he'd listened, and had been proven right when Jiyeong complimented his style choice within the first five minutes of the date.

Admittedly, he'd complimented her first. Said that she looked nice, after about a thousand awkward, bashful smiles and half a dozen 'this is so weird,' and just as many 'I'm so sorry she forced you into this.'

Jiyeong had smiled, and assured him it was okay. "I'm glad she did."

And as Jeongguk meets you outside the gym the following morning, he can't help but agree.

He's still got a glow about him; fresh-faced and unwavering despite the rigorous workout you know he must have had. Part of you is glad. Him being at the gym means she at least didn't stay over - which would have been totally fine! You absolutely wouldn't have minded. Wouldn't have bothered you in the slightest . In fact, maybe it would have been better if she had stayed-

Okay, you can't even convince yourself that you believe it, but that's not the point.

He walks with his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, shoulders a little hunched from the cold air. He's missing a jacket, which is unlike him, you think. You can't tell if there's a blush on his cheeks or if it's just windburn. Maybe both.

"Hello, Casanova," you greet him, smile fond, eyes earnest. The words are lively and melodic as they dance from your lips to his ears, yet the strings of your heart seem to pluck a little out of tune. You just need to adjust them slightly. Tune them. That's all.

"Don't call me that," he shakes his head - but he's smiling. There's a shyness to him. It's not all too unfamiliar, but it's something you've not seen in a while.

"So?" You beam, pushing it aside as you both begin to walk in the direction of 'home'. "How did it go?"

Jeongguk nods as he tries to formulate words. There's a smile on his lips. You can hear it as he speaks. "Good. Yeah... yeah, no, good. Really fun, actually."

"Okay, no, stop being coy," you laugh. "Give me details!"

Jeongguk pauses for a second as he tries to get a read on your face. There's nothing outwardly wrong, he thinks, but he notices that you're avoidant. Your eyes don't linger on his. The smile that comes with your laughter doesn't last as long as it usually does. He doesn't like it.

So he gives you what you ask for, because he thinks that might help. Maybe you've been nervous for him. It's his fault - he forgot to text you back last night, having gone for drinks after the ceramics place. Time had slipped away from him.

He tells you everything - how bad she is at painting (you enjoy this, because you like being better than her at least at something), how she'd suggested a drink afterwards, and how he'd walked her home at 2 AM because apparently neither of them wanted to stop talking. He tells you how he hadn't been brave enough to do anything other than walk, but she'd moaned about the cold and so he'd given her his jacket.

Poor Jeongguk had been so warm from soju and giddy from a date gone well that he hadn't even realised he was jacketless until he was about halfway home.

It explains his lack of a jacket now. You've a heat pack in your pocket. Part of you tells you not to pass it over to him. Would serve him right for being so careless.

And as much as you enjoy being a bitch, you also don't enjoy hearing his teeth chatter together. You say nothing as you pass it over, and push him toward the alleyway that leads up to his favourite brunch spot. At least going there will get him out of the cold.

"I'm so happy for you," you smile. You don't think you're lying. "I told you that you could do it!"

Jeongguk is slow in his reply again, almost as if he's weary of saying the wrong thing. It comes from a place of fear; memories of Hayun, and her reaction the first time Jeongguk had started seeing someone during their friendship. It had been before anything had developed between the pair of them, but it was the first time he'd clued up to the fact maybe she'd have been interested in more.

If he were to explain this, you'd tell him to fuck off for associating you so closely with her. You've never met her, but have convinced yourself that you couldn't be less like her even if you tried. You're nothing like the girl who broke his heart, and you never intend on being anything like her, either.

Then again, can't break his heart if the pair of you never fall for each other - and given the giddy smile on his lips all thanks to Jiyeong, you highly doubt that would ever be an option, anyways.

Seeing him like this - hopeful - makes your heart swell. He deserves happiness. Deserves the world. Or at least, deserves someone who makes him feel like he has the whole world in his palm whenever he holds them close.

"I owe you," he beams, as he beelines for his favourite booth, passing a quick nod to the cashier as she welcomes your arrival. It's so warm in the cafe that Jeongguk thinks he might die. The sudden temperature change is torture. "She, uh - she actually asked if I wanted to hang out next weekend, too. Obviously, I said no-"

"NO?! Obviously?!" You almost shriek, the back of your hand gently smacking against his arm. "You said no?! I thought you said it went well?!"

"It did!"

You don't understand why he's shrieking too, when he's the one who's gone and fucked up all of your hard work.

"Then why the fuck would you say no?!"

"Because!" he interrupts before you go off on a tangent, without hearing him out. "Next weekend is Tae's art show. Show on Saturday, and Sunday is free in case we get fucked up afterwards."

He shakes his head towards you, eyes wide, brows lifted, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world - and now that he's mentioned it, you think he's right.

Good, old, dependable Jeongguk. Wouldn't forget his friend's important events for anything. Not even one of the hottest girls in the whole downtown area could make him forget.

Though if you said this out loud, he'd smirk, and tell you that one of the hottest girls in the downtown area is the reason he remembers.

But it's Tae's event, not yours. He knows that you'd tell him off for framing things in such a way. Plus, the date with Jiyeong really did go well. The idea of acting a little sleazy just for a cheap joke doesn't appeal to him. It would feel distasteful.

And yet it feels wrong not to make the joke. A week ago? He would have done. Your dynamic, though largely unchanged, is different now. There are boundaries that come with dating; ones that he knows damn well to respect, no matter how early on it is.

He never wanted things between you to change. He'd have happily kept things as they were.

Progress has been made, though; a purpose has been served.

He'd never describe your friendship as transactional, but it seems to have worked out that way.

Makes him feel guilty. The feeling simmers in his stomach as he sits beside you, nibbling at his bottom lip. His hands are stuffed into his trouser pockets as he reclines into his chair; a little closed off, but not enough to make you question it.

It's only when you reach over to nudge him - and say, 'hey?' - that he realises he's completely zoned out.

"Hmm?"

"Invite her," you say softly. "To Tae's event. Invite her along. We could do with more guaranteed attendees, and I'm gonna be schmoozing people all night with Tae, so at least you'll have someone to keep you company."

Plus Nabi's invited and you really don't fancy having to deal with her. If Jiyeong can win her over, that's one less thing you have to worry about.

"Invite her?"

"Yeah?"

"You sure?"

"No," you say with so much sarcasm Jeongguk can't help but smile. "I just said it for the fun of saying things."

"That is the kind of thing you'd do," he defends with a cheeky little grin as he sits up straighter. "I just don't wanna... I don't know. Move too fast?"

"It's not like you're inviting her to meet your parents - unless you've also invited them to Tae's?"

"No," he laughs. "Of course I haven't."

"Then you're golden," you assure him.

An extra attendee is an extra attendee at the end of the day. Hell, you think you'd even let Hayun through the door if it looked better for Tae.

"On the subject of golden," Jeongguk sighs as he gets to his feet. "French toast? Iced Americano?"

You nod. Smile a little bashfully. Hate that he knows you so well. Watch him as he walks away, and admire his ass a little (in a friendly way). He's just been at the gym working on it, so you tell yourself he'd appreciate the 'appreciation'.

Your eyes are drawn from his 'assets' when his phone vibrates on the table. You don't let them linger, but you see very clearly that it's an incoming message from Jiyeong. You're not sure it would be considered 'friendly' if you 'accidentally' dropped his phone into the coffee of the woman sitting behind you, but you consider it for a moment. An impulsive thought. That's all. Like when you're driving, and think about the fact you could swerve off the road, or like when Jeongguk gets too close and you think that maybe you could kiss him.

Not anymore, though. That ship has sailed. Lost at sea. Never to be found again. Maybe one day, many many years from now, explorers will find the lost treasure: gold-adorned artworks, swathes of origami birds and more glitter than any single ship could ever hold. Or maybe they won't.

Maybe you're romanticising something that never was for something it will never be.

Who knows? Best not to tempt fate with such mindless dillydallying.

Especially not when you know you're gonna spend the next half an hour convincing him to text her back and just bloody invite her to the show.

You're not sure if you should be pleased or disappointed when it only takes fifteen minutes to convince him. Pleased, you suppose. That's what you tell him you are, at least.

And pleased is also what he is when she replies immediately saying that she'd 'love' to come. Asks for a dress code and a ticket price. Wastes no time. Keen .

(If you were gonna be a bitch (which for some reason is coming naturally today) you'd think she was desperate (but then you remind yourself that you set up this date (with her (because you knew she was keen (can hardly be annoyed about it now, can you? (Stupid))))).

"Cocktail dress, and no ticket price," you smile, as if your brain isn't exhausting you. "She's your plus one. Mates rates."

He asks if you're sure. You tell him yes.

You don't tell him that you've already put the cost of two tickets - yours and his - in the kitty. Everyone else is paying. The pair of you were never going to be an exception - supporting Tae's show is more important than an extra 15,000won in your bank account. You'll just add a little extra for Jiyeong's ticket. No biggie.

Once brunch is done, and Jeongguk has just about finished teasing you for texting the details of Tae's show to Seokjin (you thought the 'send to all' function could be your friend, but forgot that your own inability to delete his number is your biggest flaw), you head in separate directions. Both heading home.

And yet as Jeongguk presses his bedroom door shut only to see a paper bird propped up by his pillows, he can't help but feel like home is across the other side of the city.

Strange.

Not really, though.

Not when you're flopping face-first onto your bed with a groan, and a mumble of an acknowledgement that you'd really rather Jeongguk not bring his new squeeze along.

"Wassup?" Danbi calls through from her room.

Rolling onto your back, you sigh. Look at your ceiling, that's void of birds, and ignore the message that comes through from Seokjin, finally responding to the show invite.

"We have any wine in the fridge?" You call back through to her.

"Always."

"Wanna get fucked up?"

Danbi laughs. You hear her head to the kitchen, and the clink of wine glasses gently knocking together as she opens up the fridge. "Always."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[angelofviscera]

1, 3, 7 <33

1. a song that makes you say "I'm gay"

what I want by muna orrrrr red wine supernova by chappell roan!!! gay gay horny horny cigarettes u get it 💓

3. a song that's long as hell and every second was absolutely necessary

not that long only like 7 mins but Kim's caravan by courtney barnett MY BELOVED the way it builds is just fucking insane and suchhh an experience I wish I could hear it for the first time again

7. a song that you love because of that one part

the bartees strange cover of lemonworld ohhhh my god, obsessed with how he gets desperate at the chorus and the heaviness of it!! also brand new colony covered by the beth's <3 my heart just soars at how she says I want to take you far from the cynics in the town AND KISS YOU ON THE MOOOUTH agh!! covers allow for a lot more appreciation for little bits I think 💕

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Hello! i have a question, but my english is not good. you can ignore this if you like of course :) joe says at a comic con that eddie wants to be a ladies man. do you think it means that eddie wants to be a player? i'm scared because it would take the character away from me, and i always thought eddie would like true love. it makes me very sad but probably i misunderstand what he means?

Hey, nonnie!!!

So, to my understanding, a ladies man is someone who has a lot of girl friends and is quite attractive (which is true for Eddie, he is very attractive) and respects women and won't play with their feelings. A player is different, it's someone who, like I kind of just said, plays with people's feelings, has little respect for said people, and isn't honest in their intentions. I used Urban Dictionary for this paragraph because honestly, if it wasn't for UD, I wouldn't know 98% of what people say these days...😅Eddie is... not like that, on either count.

So when Joe said that Eddie thinks he's a ladies man, what I interpret that to mean is that Eddie thinks he's good at flirting with people, he thinks he's smooth, and he thinks he's attractive and uhhhh sorry, Eddie, baby, but only that last one is true. It absolutely does not mean (in my very humble opinion, please don't take any of this as gospel) that Eddie wants to be a player - he's shown to be very respectful to pretty much everyone he comes across unless they're rude to him first or he judges them faster than they can judge him. He's only human, after all, and we're flawed and messy.🥰

So, I think that you're right - Eddie says it himself, he's cynical but even he knows true love when he sees it (we'll ignore the fact he said that about St*ncy; that's not what this ask is about/I don't ship them so I'm not gonna get into that). I think if Eddie found someone whom he was attracted to and who was able to understand/connect to/return his dorky LOTR and D&D references, if he was able to connect to them on a deeper level than purely physical, if that someone knew who he was and loved him all the same, then I think he'd die for them, no hesitation. I think Eddie would very much be "I know I only learned your name yesterday but I want to marry you two days ago" if he found someone whom he really loved and whom loved him just as much. He's cynical as all hell but he knows true love when he sees it, and with you??? Baby, you're a match made in the metal heavens.💗💗💗

Please don't take any of what I say as gospel; this is just my very quick first draft opinion and I hope it makes sense! I think Eddie is a ride or die man, very respectful and giving and generous. He loves hard and he'd treat you like you're a celestial being, far too good for the likes of him, but you can work on that with him.🫂I do not for a moment think that Eddie would be a player; Uncle Wayne raised him properly and he wouldn't tolerate that kind of shit from his son for a second. Hawkins is a small town and news, especially of that sort, travels fast. So yeah, this is just my opinion and others may disagree and that's okay!! I hope this made sense and that you feel more comfortable with Eddie now, nonnie! He'd love you.💗

[aspoonofsugar]

So I’ve recently gotten my friend into RWBY and we’ve been poring over your posts and reblogs about the allusions/alchemical elements, and I absolutely LOVE your work. It’s even inspired some theories to narrative directions for V9 that I hope to maybe share in a reblog once I can order the convo my friend and I had lol.

There’s one question we both currently have about Winter’s allusion that I wanted to get your thoughts on (or the post if you’ve already written it lol). I saw you mentioned in one reblog that you don’t think she’s the Snow Queen herself but rather its about her relationship with Weiss? Others I know have gone with the Snow Queen allusion and given her two Gerda’s (Weiss and Penny). I even wondered myself if she perhaps is meant to be both the SQ and Kai to fit RWBY’s double primary allusion trend.

But I was just curious to know what your thoughts are, or if there’s another allusion altogether Winter may serve. :)

Hi!

Thank you for the nice words and sure, share your post once it is done!

As for Winter, I actually agree that she is the Snow Queen-Kay with Penny and especially Weiss as Gerdas. However, I wanna consider 2 additional things:

1- The Snow Queen is an important allusion for both Schnee sisters and not just Winter

After all, it is similar to Blake's Beauty & Beast. It is an allusion with 2 protagonists (Kay and Gerda), so to be complete it needs 2 people (Winter and Weiss). That is why I said it is about the Schnee Sisters in my reblog of @blue-cheeseinmyoffwhites's great post.

Moreover, a lot of imagery from the fairy tale is used to comment Weiss's arc in Mistral even more so than Winter's own development in Atlas. This will probably change in the future, but what we have so far is enough to foreshadow Weiss's importance for Winter's story. Similarly, Weiss's relationship with her sister is clearly instrumental to her personal development.

Let's also remember both Schneesters are called "Ice Queen" by others:

Qrow: Hey! Yeah, I'm talking to you, Ice Queen! Roman: Ladies, Ice Queen…

2- Winter's arc is not over

Our Snow Queen's story has yet to reach a resolution, which will give more depth to her fairy tale and make it climax. This also means that right now we are still lacking key pieces to properly read this allusion.

That said, we have enough to start analyzing how it has been used up until volume 8.

THE SNOW QUEEN: 7 STORIES IN 1

I think the premise of the Snow Queen is rather well known, but here it is for those who haven't read it:

Kay and Gerda live happily in a small town. They are innocent kids, who have tons of fun playing together in a garden full of roses. However, one day 2 fragments of a cursed mirror enter Kay's heart and eyes and make him cynical and cold. Kay is then taken by the Snow Queen, who brings him to her castle in the North. There he is left with the challenge to use ice to write the word "eternity". If he succeeds, he'll be free.

Meanwhile, Gerda starts a journey to find her friend. Throughout it, she meets several characters: a lady who imprisons her into a garden full of vane flowers, 2 crows, a prince and a princess, a little robber-maiden, 2 old women. In the end, she reaches the Snow Queen's castle, meets Kay and frees him by taking out the 2 fragments of the mirror. While they embrace, the pieces of ice dance and form the word "eternity".

This fairy tale is divided into 7 shorter stories:

First Story, Which Describes a looking-glass and the broken fragments.

Second Story: A Little Boy and a Little Girl

Third Story: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure

Fourth Story: The Prince and Princess

Fifth Story: Little Robber-Girl

Sixth Story: The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman

Seventh Story: Of the Palace of the Snow Queen and What Happened There At Last

The first story is a prologue, the second story introduces the protagonists and from the third story onward the focus is Gerda's journey to find Kay, which ends in the seventh and last story with their reunion.

RWBY follows this same structure too, which I am gonna replicate in this meta. To be specific we'll have:

Prologue: The Mirror

Weiss's journey to find Winter

Winter being saved

Let's see how things turn out...

PROLOGUE: THE MIRROR

Mirrors and glass keep popping up in the Schnees' story. That is because this imagery is symbolic of Jacques's abuse towards his family. In particular, Weiss and Winter explore this metaphor through their allusions.

1- In Snowhite, the Evil Queen decides to kill her daughter after the mirror reveals the girl is the most beautiful one around. In other words, the Queen is a narcissist, who can't accept someone is better than her.

Jacques is the same, but his narcissism means he turns his children into reflections of himself. They must appear, behave and think like he wants. This is why Weiss initially struggles to understand who she is. She is forced by Jacques to be like him. She is trapped inside a looking glass, as her songs reveal. In this situation, the only solution is to shatter the mirror:

I'm shattering the mirror that kept me split in pieces That stood between my mind and my heart This is where I'll start

Weiss succeeds and breaks free. She escapes Jacques and starts looking for who she wants to become.

2- In The Snow Queen, an evil goblin makes a mirror, which is able to twist reality, so that only ugly and cruel things are visible, while the beauty of the world disappears. This mirror shatters and its fragments go around the world, enter people minds and hearts and make humanity lose ingenuity and idealism. Kay ends up a victim of this mirror, as 2 fragments enter his eye (mind) and his heart. Once corrupted by the mirror, he becomes an easy target for the Snow Queen, who takes him to her palace and makes him even colder and more isolated.

This premise perfectly fits Winter's story.

Jacques is the Evil Goblin (Jack Frost) that creates the cursed mirror.

Jacques's abuse defines Winter's childhood and deeply influences her personality. Sure, Winter manages to oppose her father's control and leaves. However, years later she still suffers the consequences of her cold upbringing:

Winter: No, no, what I mean is, this place holds a lot of memories for me, specifically. I thought I was in control, but… you heard me. I sounded like a petulant child.

It is clear she has never fully processed her abuse and the result is that she ignores her emotions and is ashamed to show any kind of childishness, as it makes her feel weak and exposed. In other words, Winter escapes the mirror, but one of its fragments stays hidden in her heart and stunts her emotional development. This makes her vulnerable to another controlling dynamic.

Ironwood is the equivalent of the Snow Queen, that makes Winter colder and colder.

After Winter leaves home, she finds a new place of belonging in the Atlas Army, which is a very hierarchical and controlling environment. Soldiers are encouraged to repress their feelings and to act "rationally". The truth, though, is that they are groomed and the same happens to Winter:

Weiss: Doesn't it bother you? He practically groomed your entire military career. Your destiny was chosen for you, without your input.

Ironwood decides Winter's destiny without her consent. He keeps her close and influences her vision of things. In a sense, he puts in her eyes the second shard of glass. A fragment that prevents Winter from seeing the truth. All to turn Winter into the next Snow Queen (the Winter Maiden).

In short, Jacques and Ironwood are the 2 antagonists of Winter's fairy tale. At the same time, they represent the 2 fragments that are poisoning her heart and mind.

Let's now go deeper in how the Schneesters deal with this evil mirror and take a closer look to their intertwined stories.

WEISS'S JOURNEY

Weiss's arc in Mistral is really our girl growing into her own person. This happens through 2 different developments.

In volume 4 Weiss affirms her independence from Jacques

In volume 5 Weiss discovers herself different from Winter

Jacques and Winter are in fact Weiss's mentors and authority figures and her growth lies in refusing both to find her own way:

I’m climbing higher with the past behind me Heights like I never dreamed Finally learned I need to do it my way Now I see what I can be When I trust in me I’m free

This is highlighted by Weiss's 2 shorts.

The White Trailer focuses on her relationship with Jacques and how she feels imprisoned by him.

Weiss's character short explores her dynamic with Winter, who loves Weiss deeply, but is also cold and strict.

Obviously Jacques and Winter are not the same, since Jacques is an abuser, while Winter isn't, but both ask Weiss to prove herself (the royal test) and Weiss is initially stuck between the 2. Who will she be? Jacques or Winter? The answer is neither. Weiss is her own self.

She is not her father's reflection, but a brave Knight:

She is not her sister's copy, but a kind Queen:

The Arma Gigas and the Queen Lancer embody 2 sides of Weiss that are born in juxtaposition to respectively Jacques and Winter.

The Arma Gigas is the Grimm Weiss kills in her first act of defiance towards Jacques and the Avatar she summons when she leaves him once and for all. It is the test she must overcome in order to attend Beacon and a stand-in for the Prince that breaks Snowhite's glass coffin (Weiss's room) and frees her. Finally, it is one of Nicholas's armors possessed by a Grimm, which calls back to how Jacques has taken control of the SDC and has corrupted it. For all these reasons, this summon represents Weiss saving herself and her family from Jacques.

What about the Queen Lancer? Its meaning and its link to Winter are found in The Snow Queen and how it's used in Weiss's story.

FROM SNOW QUEEN TO SNOWHITE

Weiss's Volume 5 short is full of Snow Queen symbolism. Weiss and Winter are in a garden full of roses similar to the one Gerda and Kay play in as children. However, Weiss and Winter's flowers are frozen because their childhood has been cold and lonely:

Similarly, the ice imagery, which is dear to Andersen's story, defines the whole situation. Weiss is surrounded by a snow storm, she tries to resist and to melt the ice, but fails and is overcome by ferocious beasts, similar to the Snow Queen's servants. Meanwhile, Path to Isolation reinforces these ideas:

The cold Seems to grow in my soul It's consuming me Confused And I'm losing myself In the storm Smile's faded And I'm spinning and sinking I'm weakening Frozen in solitude Loneliness chills to the bone

This Snow Queen charged short can be read in 2 ways:

It sets up Weiss as Gerda and Winter as Kay

It presents Weiss as Kay and Winter as the Snow Queen

These 2 readings are complementary and equally important.

1 - Weiss is Gerda and Winter is Kay

Weiss and Winter's flashback shows them "playing together" in the garden of roses, while in the present Weiss leaves Atlas to find her sister. In other words, Weiss is Gerda in search for Kay. This is confirmed by her trip in Mistral having many similarities with Gerda's travel.

Let's quickly go through these paralells:

Gerda and Weiss's sacrifices: Both journeys start with our heroine making a sacrifice. Gerda sacrifices her shoes to the river in order to discover where Kay is. Weiss throws the Dust against the Queen Lancer to defeat it. Both offerings are a sign of humility. Gerda travels the world bare-footed, while Weiss gives up her privileged life (The Schnee Dust Company) to face the world as herself.

A garden full of vane flowers: Gerda and Weiss lose some time in a place superficially pretty, but ultimately fake and empty. Gerda stays in a beautiful illusory garden. The place is full of flowers, but roses are missing, so that she can never remember Kay. Weiss is trapped in Atlas, sheltered, but far from her new found family (RWBY) and from the rose, who inspires her (Ruby). Ultimately, both Gerda and Weiss leave and confront the vanity of the flowers/Atlesians.

Gerda: "It is no use asking the flowers; they know only their own songs, and can give me no information.”

Weiss: "You're all just standing around talking about nothing! Worrying about your hair, your money, your stupid problems that don't mean anything!"

Crows, princes and princesses: Gerda meets 2 crows that tell her Kay may be the new husband of a beautiful princess. With the birds' help Gerda enters the palace and meets the Prince and Princess. Weiss meets Raven and Qrow who offer her knowledge on Ozma and Salem, the Prince and Princess par excellence. Moreover, Weiss is able to reach her friends thanks to Raven's semblance aka Raven and Qrow's bond symbolically. The relationship between the couple of crows is precisely why Gerda is able to meet the royals.

The Little Robber Maiden: Gerda is kidnapped by some robbers whose leader has a daughter aka the Little Robber Maiden. Weiss is imprisoned by the Branwen Tribe and meets Raven and her "adoptive daughter" Vernal, who impersonates the Spring Maiden.

Two old women: The last characters Gerda meets are The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman, who lead her to the Snow Palace. Similarly, Weiss's return to Atlas has her encounter Maria and Cordovin. Differently from the characters in the fairy tale, Maria and Cordo are not on good terms, which obstructs Weiss instead than helping her.

In the end, though, Weiss makes it home safely and embraces Winter once again:

2- Weiss is Kay and Winter is the Snow Queen

Let's compare Weiss and Winter's scene in the volume 5 character short with this passage from The Snow Queen:

He composed many complete figures, forming different words, but there was one word he never could manage to form, although he wished it very much. It was the word “Eternity.” The Snow Queen had said to him, “When you can find out this, you shall be your own master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates.” But he could not accomplish it. And away flew the Snow Queen, leaving little Kay quite alone in the great hall which was so many miles in length.

The inspiration is rather clear. Weiss is a prisoner in the Snow Palace (The Schnee Mansion) and Winter plays the Snow Queen, who tells Kay the condition to be free:

Weiss: I'm sorry. I'll get better. Winter: You'll have to if you ever want to leave.

Winter has managed to escape Jacques by becoming stronger on her own and thinks Weiss should do the same. She should not depend on others, but count only on her own abilities. Her intentions are good and she is right that Weiss needs to grow more independent from their father. However, Weiss's path leads elsewhere and this difference is shown in her trip in Mistral, where she meets the Little Robber Maiden.

In the story, Gerda is caught by bandits and is assigned to the Little Robber Girl or Little Robber Maiden. This character has a duality to her. On the one hand she is initially mean to Gerda, takes her muff and even threatens to kill her. On the other hand she is impressed by Gerda's story, gives Gerda a reinder and helps the girl escape by distracting the Leader of the robbers (her own mother).

RWBY takes this character and divides it in 2:

Vernal is the Little Robber Maiden, who is mean to Weiss. She imprisons her, mocks her and steals her sword. In the climax, she even fights Weiss and breaks her aura, making her vulnerable to Cinder's strike.

Yang is the Little Robber Maiden, who befriends and saves Weiss. She uses her relationship with Raven to free Weiss and they both leave on Bumbleby (the reinder of Andersen's story :P).

Are we sure Vernal and Yang allude to the Little Robber Maiden? Yes :P

First of all, they are both Raven's daughters. Vernal is Raven's adopted daughter in the tribe. Yang is Raven's biological daughter. Secondly, they share a maiden motif throughout volume 5. On the one hand Vernal plays the Spring Maiden for Raven's sake. On the other hand Yang shows Raven what the Spring Maiden should be like and eventually gets the relic of Knowledge. Vernal is the fake Maiden, while Yang is the Maiden at Heart. These details set the 2 girls up as perfect stand ins for the Little Robber Girl.

What does it all have to do with Weiss?

Vernal and Yang represent 2 sides of Weiss's development in volume 5. They are 2 different answers to Weiss's quest to become herself.

1- Vernal embodies Winter's viewpoint:

Winter: I am not always going to be around to save you, Weiss.

Vernal: Your sister isn't in Mistral anymore. No one is coming to rescue you.

Vernal is the one, who reveals Winter is no longer in Mistral. Through her, Weiss realizes she can't keep on depending on her sister, but must come into her own. However, Vernal also mirrors Winter's flawed beliefs. She insists Weiss amounts to nothing, if she can't survive alone.

2-Yang embodies the opposite mentality:

Yang: It's okay. I've always got your back, sis.

Weiss: Yang… You, Ruby, and even Blake are more like family to me than my brother or even my own father.

Yang is the one, who appears when Weiss needs a sister the most. She is an older sibling, who is openly protective and caring. So, she is an alternative to Winter. She is there to remind Weiss the world is not so hostile and cruel. It can actually be full of love and kindness. Weiss fails to find Winter (ice), but she finds Yang (fire). She is not alone.

So, Vernal challenges Weiss to grow on her own, while Yang represents Weiss's answer to this challenge.

Everything comes together in volume 5 climax, where Weiss fights Vernal. What is the outcome of their conflict?

On the one hand Weiss loses the fight. Vernal has more experience and dominates her completely. Weiss can't hope to fill the gap between their levels so easily.

On the other hand both Weiss and Vernal get impaled by Cinder. Who is the one who survives? It is not Vernal, who is strongest physically, but has no-one to look out for her. It is Weiss, who has people who love her for who she is.

Vernal chooses to grow stronger and smarter, like Raven is. She chooses a cynical viewpoint. And yet for all her talent and intelligence, she walks straight into a trap and dies. She trusts the almighty Raven with her life, but is let down.

Weiss chooses to grow stronger and smarter, like Yang does. She opens her heart to people and earnestly supports them. She refuses a cold vision of the world and embraces her found family's warmth. The result is that she might not be as powerful as Vernal or Winter. However, when she needs her friends, they are there.

Weiss's survival in volume 5 is a negation of Winter's individualistic mentality and an affirmation of Weiss's newfound viewpoint. It shows independence is not equal to isolation and marks Weiss becoming her own person. A true Queen, hence the Queen Lancer.

This summon is linked to both The Snow Queen and Snowhite:

The Snow Queen: With Jaune (Gerda)'s help, Weiss (Kay) is able to expel the shard of glass freezing her heart. This shard takes the shape of an Evil Queen, which is purified and changed into something beautiful (the Queen Lancer). This avatar then is a metaphor for Weiss freeing herself from the mirror once and for all. Differently from Winter, there is no glass left in Weiss's soul.

Snowhite: Weiss dies and is reborn thanks to Jaune (the Prince). After she wakes up, she is crowned Queen (the Queen Lancer), like in her fairy tale. This means Weiss has finally grown up.

In other words, this is the resolution of the Royal Test, which is the trial Weiss must undergo to become a Queen. Initially, she is caught between 2 scary Queens. Jacques's Evil Queen and Winter's Snow Queen. Still, Weiss is Snowhite, who gets crowned Queen on her own terms.

So, Weiss's journey in Mistral is really the Snow Queen, that climaxes in Snowhite. It describes our girl breaking free from Winter's influence:

Cordovin: Oh, I can't wait to see you follow in your sister's footsteps. Weiss: (with an unenthusiastic smile) Absolutely…

At the same time, it presents Weiss as a more complex version of Gerda. She is a Gerda, who wants to emulate the Snow Queen, but then discovers the world can be beautiful and generous. And so can she:

Winter: You could continue to explore Remnant, discovering more about the world and honestly, more about yourself.

Only after this realization, she is is ready to help her sister.

SAVING WINTER

Winter is a combination of Kay and the Snow Queen. To be specific, she is Kay, who leaves home not just to stay with the Snow Queen, but to become the Snow Queen:

Winter: I'm choosing my destiny now. I've made it my own. And I take great pride in it. That has nothing to do with Father, or the General… That belongs to me.

Kay thinks the Snow Queen is the most beautiful creature alive and wants to grow smarter to impress her. Winter thinks that the Winter Maiden's powers give her value. Still, Kay's happiness isn't found in the Snow Queen, but in Gerda. Similarly, Winter's worth isn't found in magic, but in her own personhood. How can this misunderstanding be cleared? Easy, Winter needs to expel the 2 shards of the evil mirror, which can also be seen as metaphors for Winter's 2 main conflicts:

The shard in Winter's heart is Jacques's abuse, which has driven Winter away from her family:

Winter: Distancing myself from the Schnee name is the most beneficial thing I've ever done.

Overcoming it means that Winter reconciles with her inner child.

The shard in Winter's mind is Ironwood's control, which has turned Winter into a brainless machine:

Winter: Penny. The general is making hard choices so we don't have to. For the good of all, not just a few.

Overcoming it means that Winter lets her emotions out and starts following her heart instead than her mind.

Luckily, Winter has 2 Gerdas, 2 little sisters ready to help her:

Weiss and Penny outgrow Winter thanks to her own teachings. Then, they take on her 2 major struggles. Basically, they fight Winter's fights in her stead:

Weiss defeats Jacques and takes back Winter's family for her. Throughout volume 7, Winter is shown to be barely able to stay in the same room as Jacques without breaking. Weiss instead faces him multiple times and arrests him. She is the true Queen of the Schnee Family.

Penny becomes the Winter Maiden when Winter isn't ready. She defies Ironwood and saves Atlas and Mantle. She makes the choice Winter should, but can't. Penny follows her heart, while Winter represses hers, so Penny is the true Maiden.

Weiss and Penny's efforts meet Ironwood's resistance and antagonism until Winter can't ignore her repressed emotions anymore:

She finally listens to her heart and makes remarkable progress with both "shards".

On the one hand she reaches out to Weiss (her family) and is able to confront Jacques once and for all:

Winter: No. When we're finished, we'll move both of you to safety.Don't thank me. It was Weiss's decision.

On the other hand she openly defies Ironwood and fights him in the climax:

Winter: No, you have sacrificed everyone else! You closed the borders, you squeezed Mantle until it broke!

She calls her 2 old men out, which is a first step to truly grow into a proper adult. Because of her developement, she is finally able to become the Winter Maiden in the climax of volume 8:

This scene is key to understand how The Snow Queen is used throughout the Atlas Arc and what it means for Winter and Penny's stories.

First of all, Winter and Penny are clearly Kay and Gerda here. They are sister-coded and Penny is even bare-footed, which is a defining trait of Gerda. How do they fit their literary counterparts, though?

Winter and Penny are a Kay and Gerda in competition over the Winter Maiden. Specifically, Winter thinks that to be worthy of the Winter Maiden she must become a Snow Queen, cold and detached from emotions. Penny proves to her that the true Winter Maiden is instead a real girl with a heart and a soul:

Winter: No, Penny. You were always the real Maiden at heart. I was just a machine… just… following orders.

This wording is interesting because we find a similar one in Andersen's story:

“Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of God.” And Kay and Gerda looked into each other’s eyes. They both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart.

Only children at heart are worthy of heaven, only real girls can truly become Maidens. This is Penny's lesson to Winter. The real Winter Maiden is not an almighty Snow Queen, but a Blue Fairy that sees humanity in others. Like Fria with Penny and Penny with both Fria and Winter.

At the same time, Winter initially believes that the key to her destiny is Fria, an older woman who transfers the powers out of duty. In the end, though, she is gifted magic by Penny, a child who casts pragmatism aside out of love. A true child (maiden) at heart. So, you see, through Penny Winter begins her arc. She starts reconciling with both her emotions and inner child. This is why "the ice turns in the word eternity":

Penny: I won’t be gone, I’ll be part of you.

Penny isn't really gone, but is forever with Winter. A part of her heart. For eternity.

BLUE FAIRY OR SNOW QUEEN?

Winter's Maiden design calls back to both the Snow Queen and Pinocchio's Blue Fairy. On the one hand she appears surrounded by ice. On the other hand the ice can be seen as fairy dust. So, is Winter gonna be a Snow Queen like Fria or a Blue Fairy like Penny? Or will she be her own Maiden, different from both? Time will tell. What's sure is that the first thing Winter does after receiving the powers is to fail, both as a Maiden and as a big sister.

On the one hand she fails to retrieve the Staff. This is important symbolically because only "true" Maidens get the relics. Maidens with flaming eyes who have still to grow don't. For example, Cinder can't find the Crown and Raven leaves the Lamp. Yang and Penny instead both get the relics, which are thematically linked to them. In short, it is a motif and a pattern. Winter failing to take the Staff from Cinder shows she still has a way to go before truly growing into a full fledged Maiden. On the other hand she fails to save Weiss and loses another little sister. The moment she chooses to open her heart and to show her true feelings they work against her, she makes mistakes and lets her loved one down.

Basically, Winter has some other development to do:

Winter: But yes Penny, we must still acknowledge our personal feelings, wrestle with them. It ensures us that we're on the right path. It's what makes us human.

After a life of repression, she is just now starting to struggle with her emotions. The result of this struggle will tell us who Winter really is. As for now, she keeps being tested through her double conflict (her 2 shards).

As a Maiden she has to lead her people to safety in Vacuo. As a Schnee she has to deal with Weiss's loss and to mend her relationship with her family:

This last point is especially interesting. Winter's arc in Atlas mostly transfers her conflict with Jacques on Ironwood. Still, the origin of Winter's problems is not the General, but her shattered childhood. This means that in order to truly grow she needs to reconcile with her family. It is the only way to find catharsis and to soothe her inner child's pain. However, she might not be able to do it alone.

In this context, Weiss's help will probably be key. After all, Penny helps Winter with one shard (Maidenhood), so it is fitting Weiss does the same with the other (the Schnee family). Penny starts Winter's arc, so Weiss should finish it. Moreover, Weiss herself is already ahead of Winter when it comes to fix her family bonds. This is clear if we consider Weiss's development through the relationships with her 2 siblings:

Initially, Weiss shares Whitely coping mechanism. They both obey Jacques and try to fulfill his impossible standards. They play the part of the good reflections and stay hidden in the mirror.

As time goes on, though, Weiss embraces Winter's approach more and more. She grows braver and openly defies Jacques. By doing so she grows distant from Whitley until they fight in volume 4.

However, differently from Winter, Weiss never fully discards her family. She doesn't run from her name or legacy, but tries to make it better. She is a synthesis of the best traits of both her siblings (Winter + Whitley = Weiss). This is why she is able to inspire both to be better.

In other words, Weiss leaves childhood (Whitley) behind to grow more adult (Winter), but then goes back to integrate her unsolved parts (Whitley). Winter needs to do the same and she will with Weiss as a bridge.

GERDA AND KAY'S ADVENTURE: FROM WINTER TO SUMMER

Weiss and Winter's story is set up to end in Vacuo, which fits The Snow Queen's use of seasons. As a matter of fact seasons are rather important in the story and are often mentioned to show the time passing. Kay disappears in winter, Gerda starts her journey in spring, she finds Kay in winter and they go back home in summer.

Can you see what RWBY is doing?

Winter is in Atlas- the Kingdom of Winter

Weiss goes through a self-discovery journey in Mistral - the Kingdom of Spring

Weiss and Winter meet again in Atlas - the Kingdom of Winter

Weiss and Winter will find a metaphorical home and embrace each other in Vacuo - the Kingdom of Summer

Vacuo is then the perfect stage for the Schneesters' final reconciliation, which may allude to the Snow Queen once again. In particular, an ideal ending of Winter's arc should have (imo):

Another reference to the word "eternity"

Winter expelling the shards

The details are clearly up in the air. However, I would not be surprised if all of this is conveyed through a summon. As Weiss's arc shows, unlocking an avatar perfectly conveys the idea of freeing one-self from painful mirror fragments. Moreover, I can't forget this very silly thing from Ice Queendom :'''):

Jokes aside, let's speak a little bit of Semblances...

THE SCHNEESTERS' SEMBLANCE

Glyphs is clearly inspired by the Snow Queen:

The snow-flakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came to her, the larger they appeared and much more terrible. For they were alive, and were the guards of the Snow Queen, and had the strangest shapes. Some were like great porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair bristled; but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snow-flakes.

This is the Schnees' summonings in a nutshell: snowflakes that come to be living animals.

There is more, though. The Schneesters' Semblance ties with their allusion in different ways.

Winter is the Snow Queen, who is able to summon multiple "soldiers" at once:

Even now, it is the main difference between Winter and Weiss's technique. Winter likes multiplying her servants, while Weiss prefers playing with their size. Moreover, the Snow Queen is introduced changing snowflakes into "great white chickens" and this is Winter's first summon:

Weiss is instead both Snowhite and Gerda. As Snowhite, her glyphs reference the forest animals she befriends. They become a metaphor of how Weiss progressively tames her inner beasts and integrates with them. As Gerda, there is this:

Then little Gerda repeated the Lord’s Prayer, and the cold was so great that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase, as she continued her prayer, till it took the shape of little angels who grew larger the moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on their heads, and carried spears and shields. Their number continued to increase more and more; and by the time Gerda had finished her prayers, a whole legion stood round her. They thrust their spears into the terrible snow-flakes, so that they shivered into a hundred pieces, and little Gerda could go forward with courage and safety.

Gerda summons angels, who wear helmets and shields (so Knigts) and have spears:

This is all very cool, but what of it? Winter and Weiss's allusions are used to develop their foiling. On the one hand Winter is the Snow Queen that transforms snowflakes into beasts. Her summons are symbolically cold and made of ice. On the other hand Weiss is Gerda whose breath turns into angels. She changes her inner warmth into an army ready to help her. The hint here is that Winter and Weiss's summons work differently, which is confirmed by Winter's advice to Weiss in volume 3:

Winter: Emotions can grant you strength. But you must never let them overpower you.

Winter never loses control. She dominates her emotions and strives to always be her best version. She is cool, she is perfect, she is an ideal, which means she isn't her real self. Her avatars are the result of repression.

Weiss unlocks her summons when she rushes to save Velvet. She is irrational, she is brash, she is reckless. She doesn't think, but feels and acts. This is why she frees her heart. Her avatars are a result of integration.

In a sense, the sisters are opposite when it comes to fighting styles and personal journeys.

Weiss initially excels at combining her glyphs with Dust, but can’t summon. This is because summons are mirrors of one's interiority. Weiss initially doesn't really know who she is without the family crest, so she can't conjure anything. The moment she grows into herself she succeeds.

Winter is instead great at summoning, but is rarely seen combining her glyphs with Dust. This is because she has cut herself off from the family. Once she accepts her feelings and reaches out to Weiss, she is shown using Dust powered Glyphs much more.

In short, Weiss's arc is about finding her own individuality, while Winter's is about learning to let others in. So, Weiss's style progressively becomes more focused on summons. It would fit if Winter were to use more elemental glyphs in the future.

Not only that, but I would love if Winter started to combine her glyphs with magic to obtain effects similar to Dust. It would show she is starting to depend more on her family. Not Jacques or the SDC, but Penny, who gifted her with the powers:

Winter: This…was a gift.

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THE SNOW QUEEN?

The fairy tale's message is found in this prayer:

“Roses bloom and cease to be, But we shall the Christ-child see.”

It is a recurring motif throughout the story. It is the prayer Gerda uses to free Kay and it is repeated at the very end. It means people should keep their childhood ingenuity and generosity. This theme clearly fits RWBY's idealistic message. Not only that, but the prayer fits Ruby herself and her role in Weiss's arc.

Ruby is Weiss's inspiration (the "Hunter" that motivates her to be a better Huntress). She is also the one, who brings out Weiss's inner child:

Weiss: Hey, Ruby? I always wanted bunk beds as a kid.

Through her and the rest of her team, Weiss defrosts. She embraces her childishness more and more:

She discovers herself an idealist, ready to make the world a better and warmer place. She is blooming into a white rose of summer, who will soon become Winter's inspiration. In this way, both sisters will grow into beautiful and resilient flowers, survivors of their icy childhood.

These are my main thoughts on how the Snow Queen is used in RWBY. Sorry it is so long and I took so long to answer. On the bright side, I think the timing is perfect given the Holiday Season :''') I hope you enjoy this meta on Santa's 2 beautiful granddaughters!

Happy Holidays, if you celebrate!