#ships but lightly associated

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

I've been considering making a playlist with one song for each of the ships I love, which I think is a great idea and all (as long as I made a code for what song means which ship in case I forgot), but I ran into an problem.

For ships without a canon song to relate them to I could just pick a song that makes me think of them, which was the original intention anyway (it's just that for several the main song is one in canon), but here is where the issue lies: I thought of too many.

So now I have to decide between several songs for each ship lol. It's the main reason I haven't made the playlist yet xd. Help :').

[writers-potion]

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚

The Aims of Nautical Fights

Sink the other ship

Methods: ram, set on fire, blow a hole in the hull

Typical Contexts: out-and-out warfare, especially in the ancient Mediterranean

Advantages: fast, no person-to-person fighting

Drawbacks: getting close eough to the other ship exposes own ship, mass murder of the crew, no chance to get their cargo and provisions.

2. Plunder the Other Ship

Methods: disable the ship - damage mast/oars and other methods of propulsion - board the ship, get cargo and kill the crew - sink ship.

Typical Contexts: piracy, privateering

Advantges: valuable cargo sold for profit, much-needed drinking water and food sustain own crew for a while longer, selected captives can be ransomed or sold as slaves.

Drawbacks: dangerous, need to get close enought to gain access to the ship, crew unlikely to surrender, ferocious combat which poses significant risk to own men.

3. Capture the Other Ship

Methods: Capture ship while causing minimal damage and keeping the crew alove - put own officers in charge - add enemy ship to own fleet or collect prize money from the government (the ship will get a new flad, renamed and refitted)

Typical contexts: 18th-19th C Europe (Regency period inclusive)

Advantages: minimal losses of life, humane, gaining a ship

Drawbacks: difficult to capture a ship iwhtou firs samaging it captains may take foolish risks in the hope of prize money, captive crew needs feeding, captive crew may munity.

Weapons

The ship's weapons:-

a ram at the bow - for driving into the hull of another ship. There's the danger of going down together if the ram gets stuck in the body of the other ship.

Artillery - hurling fire at enemy ships to bring them down.

Warships with carry canons.

The crew's weapons:-

Sailors will almost always carry multi-purposes knives which can turn quickly into weapons.

The swords used by marines were always slashing swords (for cutting, slashing, slicing, very sharp, with a lightly curving blade)

Cutlasses are most often associated with nautical combat.

Ship or Boat?

Consider the follow factors when differentiating between a ship and a boat:

the historical period (different periods have different definitions)

the vessel's size

vessel's weight (ships are heavier)

the purpose (fishing vessels, ferries and submarine are typically boats, regardless of size)

the number of masts (three or more masts is a ship)

the number of decks (with more than one deck, it's a ship)

the shape (flat bottom means its a boat)

where most activity takes place (if on deck - boat)

where the bessel travels (if on a river, probably a boat)

Avoid using the words "ship" and "boat interchangeably just to avoid repeating the same word. They are not synonyms!

Use words like vessel, ferry, schooner, the brigantine, cutter, crusier, etc.

Propulsion and Steering

A ship cannot stop, start, swerve and reverse rapidly like a car.

Wind power - high speed, enables long distances, doesn't require the vessel to carry fuel.

Can't move in the abscene of wind

Can't carry out speedy manoeuvres in a battle.

Felling the mast will cripple the entire ship.

Oars (rowing) - allow for greater manoeuvrability, rapid direction changes, and relaively quick starts and stops.

Doesn't achieve great speed and isn't suitable for long distances.

Steam - creates speed, doesn't depend on wind.

Requires carry coal, which limits the amount of cargo that the ship can carry.

Vessels felled with oil or nuclear power can travel faster and vaster distances.

However, they still can't stop, start, swerve and reverse as quickly as a car.

Space

The deck of a ship/boat is a limited space where fighters can fall overboard, climb up a mast, jump down, or leap onto another deck.

It may be full of obstacles: the masts, coiled rops, possible clutter, crates and barrels of cargo and provisions.

There may be livestock, chickens in cages and goats tethered to the mast, intended to provide fresh meat on the long voyage.

Atmosphere

A sea battle will have interesting sounds like roaring canons, crashing masts, splintering wood, panicked chickens, waves crashing against the hull, the wind whipping the sails, the splashing of men overboard.

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[eggcats]

I'm thinking about radiodust again, but imagine. Alastor and Angel going on an outing for the hotel together.

(Forced bonding activity, maybe. Alastor tries to get out of it by claiming he had things he needed to do and pick up, and Charlie just said Angel can go WITH him instead for it to count.)

Angel is anxious because he KNOWS how it looks to go anywhere with someone. And despite his face he knows Smiles isn't one to take insults lightly.

Alastor, however, THRIVES off attention and people wanting to know what's going on with him. He loves this, it's fueling him. He might ask Angel to accompany him on ALL his outings from now on because the immediate reaction of everyone who sees them is Very Entertaining.

Once Angel realizes that Alastor isn't going to freak on him for all the attention they're getting just by virtue of being there, he starts to enjoy it. It's nice to do something as mundane as going out with someone (even if it ain't a date), without the expectation for how that will end.

PLUS while they're getting a lot of attention, this is one of the first times he's gone anywhere without someone catcalling him or yelling some version of "Slut!" from across the street. (Someone did happen to yell "The RADIO DEMON is fucking ANGEL DUST?!?!" but they didn't remain in the afterlife long, and since then no one has yelled a single thing at him. S'nice.)

It also until that very moment didn't occur to Angel just how much RESPECT he could garner just by being next to Alastor. He goes into a store to pick something up and is just dealing with his normal level of disrespect and harassment before Alastor pops up behind him to see what's taking so long.

It only takes one instance of a tilted head and focused eyes on the sales associate, with a casual "Is there something keeping you, Angel, dear?" for everyone on this side of the pentagram to immediately assume that messing with Angel Dust means messing with none other than the RADIO DEMON. (If it has the added benefit of pissing off the Vox, AND makes Val a bit more wary about messing with Angel, then that's just a bonus.)

You can take this as platonic or romantic, but Angel swoons a bit anyway at the Southern Gentleman treatment, in either case.

And this is the catalyst for them to begin getting along, without Angel feeling the need to put up his over-sexualized porn star persona as his safest way to interact with Alastor.

(IMO, both huskerdust and radiodust work so well because Angel deserves someone who treats him well and respects him for who he is, and not what he can do for them. He deserves a good ol' fashioned lover boy to take care of him, both romantically and platonically, and that's why I love both ships.)

[pinkroseblooms]

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex. 

“You smell so good.” 

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?” 

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with. 

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle. 

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile. 

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze. 

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone? 

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different. 

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.” 

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.” 

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties. 

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall. 

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought. 

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act? 

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile. 

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop. 

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.” 

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.  

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first. 

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you.  “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

[yanderes-galore]

Hi, I hope you're having a good day/night <3 could I request a romantic TFP yandere starscream vs TFP yandere megatron with human darling? I'd love to see your dynamic now in TFP😭 Either in concept or scenario. Thank u

- Anon 🫧

It's very similar if not the same to other Starscreams and Megatrons but I'll see what I got :)

I struggled a bit on this as it's been a bit since I've seen Season One of TFP but I hope you enjoy! Not edited so it may have spelling errors.

Yandere! Starscream vs Yandere! Megatron

(Transformers: Prime - Human! Darling)

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Cybertronian/Human pairing, Abuse of power, Dehumanizing behavior, Kidnapping, Brief stalking mention, Possessive behavior, Rivalry, Trauma, Violence, Attempted murder, Forced relationship/Pet dynamic.

For the most part they're the same as other versions of Megatron and Starscream.

It's just Megatron is out for most of the starting obsession.

The obsession for both of them also takes longer due to you being human.

Since Decepticons usually see the fleshy creatures as some sort of pet.

Things most likely start when Starscream assumes "rule" of the Decepticons.

Megatron is stuck on life support and is unable to be a part of the concept for now.

You most likely meet Starscream first because of this.

It would take some time but he may eventually see you as a needed asset.

This could be for a number of reasons.

You could be associated with the Autobots, which means you have information.

Or maybe you're a researcher, which means... again, you have information.

That would be the primary reason for why Starscream would take you onto The Nemesis ship.

Starscream would plan and watch you, maybe even asking Soundwave to record your routine.

He wants to get all the information he can before he takes you in.

When Starscream eventually makes his getaway with you, information is all he really wants.

That is until he realizes he can vent his frustrations about Megatron using you... along with feel powerful by bullying you around lightly. (too much and you could break!)

Honestly, Starscream's obsession is a lot like the fic Power Trip I made a long time ago.

TFP Starscream would use his human to feel like he's stronger over someone.

I imagine he has some trauma due to Megatron and uses you as an outlet.

When he's done using you for information he doesn't plan on just letting you go.

During your interrogation he learns he can keep you as a "pet".

Afterwards that's exactly what he does.

He'd purposefully make you praise him and be loyal to him.

He can't hurt you as you're fragile and squishy.

The most you're hurt is maybe bruising and scratching as he's so large.

He hits you wrong and you go flying.

Most of your "relationship" with Starscream is him dehumanizing you.

Soon he feels daring and even makes you say you love him.

At first it was to see how far he can push you... but hearing you say it made his spark shudder for a moment.

Safe to say he becomes addicted to hearing you praise him and say you love him.

Even if to you it's all rehearsed.

This is the life to him, ruling Decepticons and holding his lovely human pet.

That is until Megatron awakens and takes back the role of leader.

I'd imagine this is where the rivalry begins.

However... first Megatron has to like you.

Megatron most likely learns about you through Soundwave and the fact that Starscream keeps clutching you so close in order to hide you.

In an attempt to hurt Starscream, Megatron takes you.

He can tell you and Starscream are close which he finds really weird.

At first Megatron thinks he should just kill you.

Then he hears you've been made into a pet... one loyal to the Decepticons.

Honestly, he has to applaud Starscream for managing to tame a human.

So instead of removing you, Megatron keeps you in a hanging cage.

You're just in sight to make Starscream remain obedient.

Megatron doesn't entirely fall for you until later.

He mostly just enjoys seeing Starscream look so distraught and seeing how obedient you are.

Again... you're used for a feeling of power.

How Megatron treats you is very similar to how he treats you in this concept.

Like Starscream, he uses your forced loyalty to stroke his own ego.

Megatron likes to think of you as his human pet.

Who knows, maybe if you say you "love" him like you did with Starscream, Megatron may grow more attached.

As time goes on, Megatron decides you'll thrive better in a larger cell.

Soon you have your own "enclosure" on The Nemesis, one where only Megatron gets to look at you.

Megatron also learns how to care for you through Knock Out and Soundwave.

He may even be able to threaten some info out of Starscream.

While at this point Megatron has claimed you for his own, he allows Starscream to see you in order to keep him behaved.

By this point Starscream doesn't care about ruling anymore.

He just wants you back, then he'll even leave!

Starscream may even wonder if he should attempt to take Megatron offline again...

He was close last time... this time maybe he'll succeed.

Unfortunately... Megatron isn't willing to have Starscream leave with you.

You know belong to Megatron, not Starscream.

Megatron keeps you in your enclosure, closely watching over you and speaking to you.

Meanwhile Starscream plots on how to steal you out of it.

Starscream may even create a plot where he has the Autobots storm The Nemesis all so he can take you in the aftermath.

It's unfortunate that you're stuck between the two....

You thought Starscream was bad, but now you have Megatron too.

There's two ways this could go.

Megatron exiles Starscream in order to keep you... or Starscream manages to run off with you.

Even then, there's still a chance you could fall into the claws of the other Decepticon.

Even when exiled... Starscream will just convince the Autobots to help him somehow if he says a "human is in danger."

Or if Starscream runs with you, Megatron won't stop searching until both of you are found.

Even if the Autobots save you some how, now both Decepticons are competing on who can locate you first.

Ever since meeting Starscream... your fate has been sealed.

You fear it may be too late to escape once both of the Decepticons are attached.

[tinydefector]

I feel like it's so hard finding anyone who writes for male reader so I am SO happy I've come across your blog. I was wondering if I could ask for a one shot maybe of Rung with a gn!reader who also makes miniature models? I enjoy making miniature dioramas and things and was wondering if you could write for it. Thank you so much!

Star Ships

Rung x Human reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none

Rung masterlist

_____________________________

The human sits watching Rung as he wanders about his office, the mech mumbles to himself as he types away on a data pad taking notes after his last session with Whirl. His smaller companion had taken the opportunity to surprise him with a cube of energon as they sat drinking their own beverage. 

their eyes slowly move from him to take in the small model spaceships that are along the shelves, the last time they had been in here the area was rather bare while now it was filled with small models. "You collect model ships?" They ask while admiring them from afar.

Rung's optics sparkled with a mix of surprise and delight as their gaze wandered over the small model spaceships adorning the shelves of his office. He followed their line of sight, observing the meticulously crafted replicas that he had collected over the years. 

"Why, yes," Rung replied, a warm smile gracing his lips. "I do have a fondness for model ships. Each one tells its own story, representing different eras, factions, and adventures." He explains stepping closer to the shelves, his fingers lightly grazing the smooth surface of one of the models. His optics softened with a nostalgic twinkle as he recalled the memories associated with each ship.

"You see, collecting model ships has become a personal hobby of mine," Rung explained, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "Over the millennias it's been my way of keeping pre war things, small glimpses of hope, for so much lost to war." As he spoke, Rung's gaze shifted to one particular model ship, a sleek vessel with elegant lines. It held a special place in his collection, representing a significant chapter of his own life.

"And this one," Rung continued, his voice filled with fondness, "is a replica of the Lost Light, our beloved ship. The model took me quite a while to figure out the design and craft it out, but I have to say it's almost a replica." Rung's smile widened, a touch of playfulness entering his voice.

"I must admit, I've been known to name these models as well," he confessed, his tone laced with gentle amusement. "It adds a personal touch, you see. They become more than just inanimate objects; they become companions, each with their own personality and history." His optics shifted back to the human, a warm curiosity evident in his gaze.

A soft laugh leaves them as they look over the model. "They kinda remind me of some of the dioramas I used to make, haven't made many after leaving earth, kinda hard to get the right things to make them, but the model ships do seem rather fun, I might have to get you to teach me how to do these ships" they state, fingers lightly dancing over the model ship.

Rung's optics widened with genuine interest, his smile grew, a blend of curiosity and anticipation evident on his faceplate. "Dioramas, you say?" Rung replied, his voice tinged with genuine enthusiasm. "How fascinating! I'd love to hear more about them. What kind of scenes did you recreate in your dioramas?"

He leaned closer, his attention fully focused on them. Rung's curiosity was piqued, wondering what stories and landscapes the human had brought to life through their creative endeavours. He had always appreciated the artistry and attention to detail that went into crafting dioramas.

"I liked making scenes from movies, books and occasionally just landscapes" it really depended on what had my interest at the time " they answer before handing the model ship back. They continue looking at the other ships. “ I have a shelf like yours back home, just filled with little dioramas, models and figures” His optics sparkled with a mixture of warmth.

"Creating scenes from movies and books must have allowed you to immerse yourself in those beloved narratives, to recreate the emotions and atmospheres that made them so captivating," Rung mused, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Dioramas have a way of preserving those cherished memories, like frozen moments in time that we can revisit whenever we please."

"You know," Rung continued, his voice filled with gentle curiosity, "I find it intriguing how dioramas and model ships can both capture a moment in time, allowing us to explore different worlds and narratives. It's as if we're the architects of our own miniature universes, shaping them to reflect our imagination and experiences."

"Please, do tell me more about your dioramas," Rung encouraged, his voice soft and inviting. "What inspired you to create them?"

“well for me it's mainly the fact that each piece is a different memory, and well it's easier to remember things when you have a visually reminder, some are happy memories others sad but each people has a memory or emotional attachment, even the ones I make for other people”  He glanced back at the shelves adorned with model spaceships, contemplating the connection between his own collection and the human's dioramas.

"In a way, our hobbies share a similarity," Rung continued, his tone thoughtful. "Model ships and dioramas both allow us to capture and preserve pieces of our imagination and experiences. They become tangible reminders of the stories that have shaped us, evoking emotions and memories with each glance."

Rung's optics met the human's gaze, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Do you have a favourite piece?” he inquires softly. It takes them a moment to think. “my first ever one would be my favourite, not for the beauty but for the fact the first time ever making something means you at least tired your hand at the craft” 

"I can try and make you a diorama at some point if I can get the right stuff " they offer, 

Rung's optics widened in surprise. His usual composer faltered for a moment, replaced by a mix of curiosity and intrigue. He leaned forward slightly, his voice laced with genuine interest.

"A diorama made specifically for me?" Rung echoed, a hint of anticipation colouring his words. "That's a thoughtful gesture, and I must say” He paused for a moment, considering the implications of such a gift. While Rung appreciated the sentiment and the effort it would require, he also didn't want to impose on the human's time and resources.

"However," Rung continued, his voice polite yet tinged with a touch of caution, "I wouldn't want you to go to great lengths or expense on my behalf. Acquiring the necessary materials can be quite a task, and I wouldn't want to burden you with that. Your offer is certainly kind, but please don't feel obligated to fulfil it."

“Rung it's a hobby of mine, it's not a burden, it also gives me the opportunity to try and source materials, who knows how long we will be out here with limited things to do” they hum. It makes Rung smile softly. “Very well I'd be honoured than to see your crafts” 

[the-far-bright-center]

'I had a mother who loved me'

(aka, the Jedi Order is NOT Anakin's family)

This is a topic that I've seen discussed elsewhere and I felt compelled to add my own thoughts. I've seen some takes I vehemently disagree with, especially regarding Shmi and Little Ani in TPM, and Anakin's 'decision' to leave with Qui-Gon. It's crazy how some people will blame little Ani for 'wanting' to be a Jedi, yet apparently Luke in ANH is allowed to want this, even though Luke likewise barely knows anything about what being a Jedi entails, and even though it's much more risky (and, frankly, far more unrealistic) to dream of becoming a Jedi in the Dark Times era?? As if a nine-year-old slave-boy wanting to take part in his new-found freedom by learning to be something he associates with heroism means he somehow 'should have known' he wasn’t going to be a ‘good fit’ for the Order. My argument is that there was nothing wrong with Anakin, and there was in fact no legitimate reason for him or ANYONE ELSE to believe he'd not be good at using the Force to help others (which is what the Jedi are supposed to do), especially when he had literally just done so in the pod-race. The whole reason Qui-Gon noticed Anakin was because of how strong in the Force he already was, even untrained. Qui-Gon has faith in him, it's just the Jedi Council that doubts him. Because, unlike Qui-Gon who perceives Anakin's positive qualities and potential, Yoda and the Jedi Council are afraid of him. Because Anakin is basically an 'unknown' (read: uncontrollable) entity suddenly in their midst.

While the Prequels film-canon stands on its own in this regard, we can also look to the novelizations for even more emphasis on this topic. In the TPM novelization, several things are noteable: first of all, even before Qui-Gon arrives, Anakin has had prophetic dreams about becoming a Jedi. And since Shmi is aware that Ani's dreams and visions do often come to pass, when Qui-Gon appears and offers to take him away to be trained, why wouldn't she think that maybe this was somehow Force (or Fate) ordained? And that therefore it was the right thing to do to let him go? And the second thing, is while it's also clear that Little Ani (like Luke!) has a romanticised view of what being a Jedi might be like, his actual motivation for becoming a Jedi is not simply because he 'selfishly' wants to embark on some fun adventure without his mom. On the contrary, every. single. time. little Ani thinks about the possibility of becoming a Jedi or leaving Tatooine, it's directly in relation to eventually returning to FREE his mother and the rest of the slaves:

He was several things in the course of his dreams. Once he was a Jedi Knight, fighting against things so dark and insubstantial he could not identify them. Once he was a pilot of a star cruiser, taking the ship into hyperspace, spanning whole star systems on his voyage. Once he was a great and feared commander of an army, and he came back to Tatooine with ships and troops at his command to free the planet’s slaves. His mother was waiting for him, smiling, arms outstretched.

and

He gazed skyward, his mother's hand resting lightly on his arm, and thought about what it would be like to be out there, flying battle cruisers and fighters, traveling to far worlds and strange places. He didn't care what Wald said, he wouldn't be a slave all his life. Just as he wouldn't always be a boy. He would find a way to leave Tatooine. He would find a way to take his mother with him. His dreams whirled through his head as he watched the stars, a kaleidoscope of bright images. He imagined how it would be. He saw it clearly in his mind, and it made him smile.

Anakin wants to escape slavery and train as a Jedi so he can come back and continue helping his friends and family on Tatooine. So he can return to free the slaves. Little does he know that he won't be allowed to do that... :'(

It's important to note as well that at this point, Anakin *also* has no idea that, as a Jedi, he won't be allowed to get married and have a family. Even though he is already naively imagining himself someday marrying Padme. So he doesn't know that not only will he not be permitted to return for his mother as he'd always hoped, but he will also technically not be allowed to even have a family of his own even when he's old enough to do so.

And what of Shmi's thoughts on Anakin becoming a Jedi? At the start of the AotC novelization, she is trying to be happy with the thought of it, but ONLY because she believes he must be living his best life as a Jedi. She has no idea that he had to go through rejection first before being accepted into the Order. The AotC novelization shows that as Shmi is being held captive and tortured by the Tusken Raiders, she tries to comfort herself by holding onto her imagination of what Anakin's time as Jedi is like:

All those times staring up at the night sky, she had thought of him, had imagined him soaring across the galaxy, rescuing the downtrodden, saving planets from ravaging monsters and evil tyrants. But she had always expected to see [Ani] again, had always expected him to walk onto the moisture farm one day, that impish smile of his, the one that could light up a room, greeting her as if they had never been apart.

Heartbreakingly, as Shmi is being brutalised to death, she clings to the hope that her beloved Ani's life is now better than it was before, and that it was worth saying farewell to him all those years ago, even while simultaneously desperately longing to see him again.

As an aside, it aggravates me to no end that *cough* certain parts of this fandom perpetuate the idea that Shmi is just some blank, wholly selfless entity with no wants or desires of her own. That she's the ‘perfect’ example of a Jedi with no 'attachments' (aka an Old Order Jedi), and that somehow Anakin is a just a 'failure' compared to her. Yes, it could be argued that Shmi is shown to be a better or truer 'Jedi' than most of the other Jedi in the story (aside from Luke in RotJ), but guess what that would mean in that case? (Hint: it has to do with love and family.) Because first and foremost, Shmi is a MOTHER who is trying to do the best for her son, even though a piece of her heart is always missing while he is gone. The AotC novelization shows repeatedly that she tries to assure herself that she did the right thing by letting Ani go, but the human mother side of herself also cries out for him and misses him desperately. She might have let him go in TPM, but in AoTC she wants to see him again. In fact, she believes strongly that she will see him again (because she loves him and he’s her hero because she’s his mom and she trusts he will eventually come back to find her), which is the only thing keeping her holding on until he arrives. How can Shmi be a perfect example of an Old Order Jedi when the motivating factor for even her most selfless actions is her personal FAMILIAL attachment to and unconditional LOVE for Anakin?? Also, how insulting is it to claim that Anakin is a 'failure' in comparison to his 'wonderful, perfect mother', and then proceed to place all the blame on him for being said 'failure'....when he was shown on-screen to be doing just fine in taking after his mother prior to his time in the Jedi Order????

As another poster noted elsewhere, Shmi Skywalker is the only person responsible for the truly good person Anakin Skywalker was.

This is the heart of the entire saga. Anakin's True Self is good because of his mother. Because of how she raised him (to be selfless and to want to help others) and because of the unconditional LOVE she had for him. It was the Jedi Order that failed to provide that for Anakin, and Sidious who manipulated the situation to his advantage.

(And if Shmi was the only person who truly solidified Anakin's inner goodness, then Qui-Gon was the only Jedi who was presented as being equipped to bring out the best in Anakin when Shmi wasn't around. The only one who was prepared to act as an openly warm and compassionate parental figure to Anakin, the only one who could have properly mentored Anakin and helped him navigate both his Force powers as well as the Jedi Code, and the only one who was shown to be willing to stand up to the Council on Anakin's behalf. The tragedy is not that Qui-Gon found Anakin or even that he offered to take him to train in the Force. Rather, the tragedy is that Qui-Gon is slain in the Duel of the Fates, which leaves Anakin without a true protector and advocate in the Order, and allows Sidious an 'in'.)

So the idea that the Jedi Order is Anakin's ‘replacement family' is simply not true—certainly not in the way the story actually pans out. It's telling that, in the original Prequels-era EU, Anakin ran away from the Jedi Temple multiple times. That is NOT the behaviour of a happy child. (It is, however, typical behaviour for children who are struggling in institutionalised care.)

And indeed, the very first paragraph of the AotC novelization opens with Anakin dreaming that he is part of a warm, loving family:

His mind absorbed the scene before him, so quiet and calm and...normal. It was the life he had always wanted, a gathering of family and friends—he knew that they were just that, though the only one he recognized was his dear mother. This was the way it was supposed to be. The warmth and the love, the laughter and the quiet times. This was how he had always dreamed it would be, how he had always prayed it would be. The warm, inviting smiles. The pleasant conversation. The gentle pats on the shoulders. But most of all there was the smile of his beloved mother, so happy now, no more a slave. When she looked at him, he saw all of that and more, saw how proud she was him, how joyful her life had become.

Why would Anakin be dreaming longingly of being part of an openly loving, happy family if he already had that at the Jedi Temple? (Tellingly, he notes that this seems like something normal, as if he's aware that it ought to be commonplace despite the fact that it's currently missing from his own life.)

And later on, when he's visiting Padme's parents' house for dinner, he sees this exact type of scene he's been longing for play out right in front of him, and he wishes that his mother could be there to enjoy it, too:

Anakin took a good helping of several different dishes. The food was all unfamiliar, but the smells told him that he wouldn’t be disappointed. He sat quietly as he ate, listening with half an ear to the chatter all about him. He was thinking of his mom again, of how he wished he could bring her here, a free woman, to live the life she so deserved.

Note that Anakin is thinking about his mother, and putting her first in his mind. He can barely enjoy the meal while he believes his mother could be out there, suffering.

Later on as he and Padme are heading to Tatooine to search for Shmi, they bond over the fact that both their mothers told them the same nursery rhyme ('home again to rest'). It means a lot to Anakin that he can bond with Padme over this similar childhood memory. (No doubt something he would not have had in common with his peers in the Temple, since their only childhood memories would have been within the Jedi Order, rather than in a true home. And certainly not with a mother.)

Finally, we get to the RotS novelization. Yes, THAT one. The one in which we see that Anakin was perfectly willing to walk away from the Order the minute he returned from the war and discovered Padme was pregnant. Willing to walk away to start their FAMILY together. But then his nightmares began, and he reluctantly stayed just a little longer, thinking the Jedi (whom he originally joined with the express intent of wanting to help his loved ones) could offer him some solution to the horror his nightmares were showing him:

If not for his dreams, he’d withdraw from the Order today. Now. ...Let the scandal come; it wouldn’t destroy their lives. Not their real lives. It would destroy only the lives they’d had before each other: those separate years that now meant nothing at all.

To drive the point home, we also have the pivotal scene where Obi-Wan—speaking on the Council's behalf—tries to convince Anakin to spy on the Chancellor. Their exchange says it all:

"He's my friend, Obi-Wan." "I know." "If he asked me to spy on you, do you think I would do it? You know how kind he's been to me. You now how he's looked after me, how he's done everything he could to help me. He's like family." "The Jedi are your family." "No. No, the Jedi are your family. The only one you've ever known. I had a mother who loved me."

Anakin's story breaks my heart because all he wants—all he has ever wanted—is a family. Not to just to 'have' one in a vague sense, but to be PART OF ONE. He wants this, because even when he was slave living an unfree life, at least he had his mother. At least he could feel his mother's love, and could openly demonstrate his love to her in return. For Anakin Skywalker, being a Jedi was never the goal in and of itself. In his mind, it was always primarily a means to save those he loved. To save his family. This is simultaneously the most tragic and the most beautiful thing about his character. It is both his fall AND his redemption.

And those who insist on ignoring Anakin’s deep-seated longing for a family and want to act as though he should just be content with the Jedi Order instead are willfully missing the entire point of his story.

[ae-neon]

I have a theory about the discourse. Not any specific discourse but about the canon-obsessed side and how they react to things.

When you're happy with canon and you come to participate in online fandom, there's not much to talk about. There's only so many times you can come online and look at fanart or post a quote you like before you get bored. If you're happy with the way it is, you have nothing to add. Look at Star Wars or Harry Potter, they're passionate about the world and want to get into the details and theorize, expand... they're not being negative (well sometimes they are) but they're also not in canon's clutches. That creativity, when you have something to add to the canon as a fan, determines your participation in fandom. That's what separates fandom from a casual fan, who is happy to put down the book at the end and move onto the next one.

And since ACOTAR is a book fandom, it's not like there are gif makers or other neutral, canon compliant activities to occupy your time, especially if you refuse to learn art or start writing fic.

So what do they do? Get online and start drama. Go after people who have any criticism about media they like, or even go after the people who are making their own, positive content (and aren't posting criticism) simply because it isn't canon compliant or they don't like it. That's how you get people calling all Tamlin stans "antis" even if they don't post anti content. And on that topic, it's not even enough for something to be canon-compliant, it also needs to be canon-compliant in the right way. You have to like x characters and dislike y characters and if you do draw/write fic about something based in canon it needs to be portrayed with the same narrative that exists in canon. So no positive Tamlin content allowed, even if there were positive moments of him in canon. Everything Nesta did is wrong because SJM said it's wrong. And if you disagree you misread the books. It's even in the ship war! The only explanation for that much animosity over three ships that are that boring is that they're all obsessed with canon/what will be canon. Every side of the ship war refuses to entertain the idea of simply shipping something because they like it, that's why they're on here three years after ACOSF still arguing over whether or not Elain looks good in black.

TL;DR canon obsessed people have zero creativity and the only thing they have to contribute to fandom is being a self appointed cop

I think you're absolutely correct, the three sides ship war being rooted in who is right rather than what they like really hits

The funny thing is that canon is so threadbare it adds to the sense of it being almost impossible to write non-canon without doing so much more work

Like the Archeron parents and the KoH don't even have names and across her courts there are no language groups to signify a general trend for naming conventions, geographically we know as much about the continent as Prythian etc etc. but we know Velaris, the CoN and Illyria, and the IC all have juuuuust enough background and fridged associations to play with so that's the safezone

Canon even has a perfect built in oc placement for IC fans in the completely empty space that is Rhysand's sister

And the threat of harassment as well as the weird puritan standards breeds this hyper sanitized facade where "non-canon in the right way" fans and antis alike are, funnily enough, all forced to tread lightly and stick to similarly approved non-canon content

The Nyxlin backlash is proof enough of that. A sudden wave of disingenuous moral grandstanding when the creators went out of their way to make it clear the acceptable parameters for content submission fell well within general and platform specific guidelines. And no one was being forced to participate or view content anyways

Like I mentioned in the post about people threatening to "redeem" Tomas Mandray, I have no interest in policing fandom (but I guess they see criticism of canon as exactly that) and if I didn't want to see that content I would simply scroll away or rant about it on my own blog if it really got to me. It would never cross my mind to harass a real person over a fictional character, especially anything as half-baked as an sjm character

But again, just like you said, a lot the fandom genuinely has nothing to do besides reblogging art and purity checking

My biggest gripe is the sense of authority it gives to SJM, we are almost forced to play along according to her rules when they don't just depict but validate racism, misogyny, homophobia, ableism, segregation and a general neo-liberal colonial mindset - a Zionist salad of fuckery

[cebwrites]

Hiya! Can I request Law and/or Zoro x a male reader who constantly tries to work in couples/working together moves in fights as a his own kinda love language/flirting depending on if you think the relationship would need to be established first or not.

Like Reader and them are cornered mid-fight and Reader's just like, "Finally! I've been waitin to try out this new axe! Launch me, darlin! >:-)"

a/n: hi anon, I went with marimo since he's been on the brain lately <3

Zoro x M!Reader Battle Couple HCs

masc reader, transmasc Zoro word count: 0.6k

Whether Zoro meets you out in the wild as a bounty hunter (reader having to team up with Luffy and Koby to help break Zoro out of the marine compound is a cute idea though) or when he's already a Strawhat, the beginnings are typically the same - you catch Zoro's eye briefly because of his prowess but it's not until you're forced to work in close proximity that Zoro really takes interest in the your skills and you as a person overall

Beginning to care for you as one of his own, knowing that the other can kick enough ass on their own but having each other's backs not because you don't trust his strength or vice versa but because you love and still look out for one another, each of you powerhouses in their own right still

Not that Zoro would ever associate himself with anyone intolerant nor hide himself to begin with, but I think the moment he walks around topless (op or no) and you give no significant reaction, is when Zoro tells himself you're safe to be around and starts being a tad more buddy-buddy; this usually means more tussling in the bath and impromptu "wrestling" matches on the lawn, no weapons of course, just horsing around

Franky outright bans "serious" sparring matches on the Sunny after everyone comes reunites after two years, he'd heard about how much Zoro and Sanji tore up the Merry in the past with their squabbles from Usopp and has no intention to have to seriously patch Sunny up every other day - so you're both relegated to only having serious tests of strength on land (not that smaller skirmishes aren't allowed, Franky just keeps a close eye on you two so that it doesn't turn into anything more heated)

Zoro automatically has a vested interest in all the cool, sharp new toys his boyfriend brings back to the ship, whether you have a staple one like Wado, Sandai Kitetsu, and now Enma are to him, or you prefer a revolving door of weapons with no particular favorites

He helps you clean and take care of any blades you might carry, maybe even leading to cuddles and something more after the heat of battle you filthy animals, and though he doesn't know anything about guns he's willing to learn about the upkeep for your sake - and if it's anything more technological like lasers, well at least Zoro can enjoy looking at the pretty lights and the destruction that follows

Zoro doesn't let anyone else handle his swords lightly, let alone Wado, that privilege is saved solely for other Strawhats that Zoro's absolutely sure he can trust them to protect what are ostensibly extensions of himself - so when he first puts them in your care, it's a BIG deal, along with the first time he fully shows his back to you, be it in the heat of passion or something more akin to casual, tender affection

Zoro's used to fighting in tandem with other people, the chaos of the Strawhats usually forces one to adapt like that, but if you met him before all that, the level of synchronizing you'd have with him would be unparalleled, both talented blades in your own rights alone but together? Together you're unstoppable

Zoro trusts you with his back and you allow him to see tender, wounded parts of yourself that few others even know about and he protects them like a righteous sentinel, as you are with the parts of him that he seeks to hide away in shame - his guilt, his inadequacy, his mourning, you both take on each other's pain and forge it into a power that shakes the Grand Line in your combined wake

[whohasthecards]

Hangman is touch starved and he knew that for a while know.

Parents never there, and with his siblings (if he had any), he would be the one initiating contact, comforting them, soothing them, but that was rare, and even then it never really soothed the aching underneath his skin.

It got worst when he joined the Navy.

Although, it took a while before he realized what the crawling aching feeling was.

Why he felt weird whenever Javy slung an arm around his shoulders.

Why he felt a sense of awe whenever an instructor clapped him on the chest when they passed by him, congratulating him on a successful hop.

Why he wanted to lean closer to the hand squeezing his shoulder when Admiral Kazansky congratulated him on a successful mission.

It all felt off, not bad, just off.

It made the ache underneath his skin throb.

As if it was shouting more, more, more.

One day they were getting off the ship, deployment finally over, families and sailors reuniting. Javy running off to his family, his ma and pa enveloping him in hugs, his siblings taking turns afterwards, his tiny nieces and nephews throwing themselves at him.

He saw the same scene over and over around him.

He felt his chest tighten and his throat clenched, a frown unintentionally tugging down on the corner of his lip.

He swallowed.

He should be happy.

Instead he tugged his cap down over his eyes and walked away.

Nobody noticed him leave.

He tried to shove the urge down.

He got used to it crawling under his skin.

Come on, Seresin, men like you don't deserve shit like this.

It got better.

He and Javy got closer, Javy who lightly punched his shoulder in greeting, who slung arms around his shoulders, who pulled him close against his side when they were celebrating.

He got closer to his shipmates. Bumping fists, lightly nudging each other away, roughhousing in other occassions.

He had lovers, all of them temporary, none of them stayed for long, but it was something for a while.

Then his first air to air kill happened.

Hangman was not a name associated with his spelling mistakes when he was doing paperwork sleep deprived.

It became the name of an executioner.

To the eyes of the crew and his superiors, he was same old, Hangman. Head held high, nothing bringing him down.

He was a mess behind closed doors, though. Only Javy saw how he would stare and stare and stare. Looked down in his hands. He felt like he was under water.

Javy gave him space unsure how to deal with him the first few weeks after the kill. He tried, brought him food, talked to him even when he didn't talk back.

But when Javy made a move to sling an arm around his shoulder, Jake's breathe hitched, watching him.

Jake wanted.

Javy took the hesitation as a bad thing.

Javy gave him a small smile and pulled back.

Hangman can do mission debriefs, can make the crew relax, can calm down pissed off superiors.

Jake never really knew how to talk.

After that things were different.

His shipmates stared at him in awe, respect, fear.

If not, they only ever wanted to talk about his accomplishments.

He learned how to disarm them, flash a smile, talk shit, give them enough to satisfy them and move to a different topic.

It got better.

Eventually he could mostly get along with his shipmates again. He was showing Hangman more and more, but they got along.

Javy started coming around more, again. Jake made sure to act normal when he was near. He didn't want his best friend to pull away.

Then the mission happened.

He remembered Mav pulling him into a hug. It was quick, celebratory, yet tight and warm all the same.

He didn't want to let go, but by the time he thought that, Mav was moving on to the next member of the Dagger Squad.

He was surrounded by claps to the shoulder and other celebratory hugs that day.

At the hallway going to medical, Javy whirled around, stopped him and gave him a tight hug that he haven't gotten in a while.

"God, Jake, I'm glad you came back," he murmured.

Jake said nothing but grip the back of his friend's shirt tighter and bury his head on the older man's shoulder.

The hallway was empty, no one was there to see.

Javy made sure to shepherd him to medical where he was put in a room with Mav and Rooster. Mav raised a brow at him, quelling any protest that was about to leave his mouth.

He wasn't pouting.

Rooster gave him a fond smile, and patted him on the back. "Mav's not letting you leave medical if he can't leave too, buddy."

Mav had an annoyingly smug look as he settled in his bed.

It was when the room was dark and he could hear Rooster and Mav's snores that he realized that the crawling feeling was back.

It was soothed when he was surrounded by his crew, but it's back again.

He should really stop doing this. Stop the longing. The more he succumbs to it, the more he craves.

Dagger Squad became a permanent squad.

Javy has always been a fixture in his life ever since the academy, but there were times that they were away for months, even more than a year at a time due to conflicting deployments and leave schedules.

But now, daily, Javy was there slinging an arm around his shoulder, playing around with him, Jake tried stopping himself from leaning too much into it. He wasn't needy.

He wasn't expecting the others, though.

How Phoenix would nudge him on the shoulder when they would walk side to side in the hallway.

How Bob would knock his knuckles on Jake's back in greeting.

How Fanboy would offer him fistbumps, Payback close behind him patting his shoulder.

Rooster of all people, started following Javy's lead in slinging an arm around his shoulders. Unlike Javy though, Rooster was a little shit and would lean on him heavily, gravity's not working my ass--

It was nice, it was warm, he wanted more, more, more--

Admiral John Seresin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

After that ordeal, Mav brought him home for dinner with Admiral Kazansky-- Ice, they didn't talk about it, not really.

Mav pushed his chair away from the table, Jake stood up trying to help clear the plates away, but he was so shaky--

Mav took the plates from his hands and turned Jake to face him. He didn’t say anything, but wrapped an arm around Jake's back, another around his waist, and held on tightly.

He felt his eyes burn, a sob bubbling out his throat, as he buried his face on Mav's neck, gripping the back of the older man's shirt, tightly."

"M-Mav," Jake sobbed out.

"Shh, I'm here, kid, I'm here," Mav said stroking a hand through his hair. "I got you."

"He wont get to you, son, I won't let him," Ice said clasping a firm hand on his shoulder.

Jake could do nothing, but nod on Mav's shoulder, hoping that would convey his gratitude.

Whenever he was with Javy, with the Dagger Squad, or with Mav and Ice, he feels warm and content.

The crawling feeling was still there, always will be, but whenever he's with his team, it never gets bad.

When Ice hands him a beer, ruffling his hair as he walked by, Jake thinks he could get used to this.

[tartagliaxx]

。DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART FONDER 

━━ INCLUDES: alhaitham, cyno, tighnari

━━ SUMMARY: some feelings are felt but left unspoken, or things that the characters do to ease the longing that resides in their heart caused by the distance between you two

━━ CONTAINS: established relationships, long-distance romance

。ALHAITHAM — “ scribe of the akademiya ”

The room he rented for his temporary stay at Port Ormos was rather bare. Not like it mattered, of course. The scribe of the Akademiya cared not for frivolous details. As long as he had what he needed, he was fine and dandy. Today, all he needed was a book and a pen. Alhaitham leans back, the chair creaking subtly under his weight. A glance at the setting sun was all it needed to illicit a small sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Though not the kind to whine about what life serves him, a near non-existent flicker of desire had him gripping his pen tighter, eyebrows furrowing deeply as his stoic expression morphed into one of annoyance.

Closing his eyes, he counted to three and breathed in the small pauses in between. Just like that, his composed demeanor returned and he once again sat up straight. In his desk was one of the books Kaveh pointedly refers to as “literature acquired through the scribe’s abuse of authority,” something Alhaitham only rolls his eyes at. There was nothing wrong with simply making use of the resources readily available to him given his esteemed position. Honestly, the mere thought of his roommate made his blood boil and the only reason he has yet to kick him out to the streets was that you had laughed and told him to hold on for a little longer. You were too empathetic for your own good sometimes, but perhaps, that which you possess which he does not is what had attracted him to you in the first place.

His mind swims at the thought of you — of how you’d steal his coat to snuggle into as you lounged around the couch, eyeing either one of his books lying around or nursing a cup of tea that he had brewed for you before he busied himself with whatever. With that thought, Alhaitham’s lips twisted uncharacteristically into a minuscule smile, the kind that would require much effort to see. That expression left not even for a second as his pen scratched onto the surface of the paper, ink pooling to form words at the corner of the page. Definitions, clarifications, guide questions, interpretations, and finally, on the last page, a small envelope — a letter, to be precise, that contained a short recount of what he could afford to tell you about his days far from you. There was no flair, and certainly no drama. If you, its eventual receiver, were to compare it with anything, you’d associate it with an eyewitness report for one of the crimes the Matra are investigating. Still, you had once told him offhandedly that knowing about how his day went made you feel as if he was with you and conversing lightly over candlelit dinners. In truth, the scribe found the act to be a waste of time but because it’s for you, he had room to make exceptions. After all, where was the lie in saying that even miles apart, Alhaitham thinks of you quite fondly — finding a unique sense of satisfaction in sharing all that he owns, including his prized intellect and his scarce affection with you?

With that, he decides to call it a night; withdrawing from the desk and leaving behind the book that was ready to be shipped off to Sumeru City first thing in the morning.

。CYNO — “ the general mahamatra ”

His feet dug into the fine grains of sand with each trudge forward. 

The desert has always been quiet at night, save for the howling wind that sounded eerie to the ears of the inexperienced. It was precisely because of this that he prefers moving out when darkness has painted the land with dark shadows and solitude. Then, he could hear everything: The shuffling of the scorpions, the small squeaks of the birds perched on the trees, and most importantly, the scared breathing and mumbling of his prey.

The General Mahamatra was feared by the citizens of Sumeru and for good reason too. He shows no mercy, face remaining cold and detached even after a scholar expresses their motivations for whatever fallacy they have committed. Stress, coercion, vengeance; he has heard it all but never has his heart been swayed. The weight of their sins had always been placed on the scale and they have always lost against that of his principles. Such is the judgment of the Matra, such is the fairness of Cyno, and such is the blade that sliced through the heavy air as the reason for his sudden departure from the city was finally apprehended.

It had taken longer than he would’ve liked and Cyno, who has finally had the room to breathe and release the tension that lingered in his shoulders, sat down in the makeshift camp of the now-unconscious scholar. The trek back to Caravan Ribbat would take long and he was not that heartless to force the weak-looking man on his feet just to serve as the next target for unfriendly Eremite groups. There are many dangers in the desert and frankly, it was a miracle the scholar made it this far unscathed. 

Still, that meant that he’ll have to camp away from home for the night and Cyno’s heart leaned towards irritation. Never had he had any qualms against being away from his lodging on the outskirts of Sumeru City but now was different. Instead of silence and the untrustworthy shadows, what awaits him is perhaps, a spread of his favorite foods and fruits illuminated by the warm kitchen light and your radiant and welcoming smile. You are waiting, Cyno sighs as his eyes moved towards the clear night sky of the desert. You — his star, the brightest one he had the pleasure of witnessing. Here, sheltered only by a feeble-looking tent, the General Mahamatra finds himself longing to bask under your light, eyes twinkling as you retell stories of how your day went filled with the tiny, insignificant details that he misses when he’s away. He longs for you: body, mind, and soul, and his face says it all if you had the gall to stare that long.

Cyno’s gaze never wavered from the sky, not even as clouds pass by and covered what had been the object of his attention. He bides his time seeking the brightest star that just falls short of beating your illuminance in his heart. Perhaps that will ease the ache he feels, maybe even remove the tingle in his fingers that crave to feel your skin and warmth once more.

From afar, the General Mahamatra is as serene as he could be and so is the lullaby he hums quietly — your favorite, and the one he had sung before to urge you to sleep when you and he ventured the same lands together.

。TIGHNARI — “ forest watcher of the avidya forest ”

The forest watcher was a busybody, that much is a fact for everyone who has heard his name. Between lecturing reckless adventurers and mushroom-addicted merchants, clearing Withering Zones, writing down patrol schedules, and caring for the sick and injured, it was a surprise that Tighnari had time to breathe and do what normal people do. If he were to be honest, however, he’d say that he prefers it this way. Being busy keeps him away from straying thoughts, and having his entire mental faculties required by tasks at hand makes it impossible for him to dwell in the past where you and he rest under the shade of the towering trees in Avidya Forest, whispering secret conversations that the world has not the clearance to hear.

Yes, the forest watcher does prefer it this way, but his ears and tail are ever more honest than he will ever be.

Collei was a smart girl and she knew better than to mention the languid swish of her master’s appendage ever since he watched you leave for an urgent task in Bimarstan. His eyes never left your form not until he could no longer see you from the distance — not even a dot. She also never commented on the flick his ears do when one of their colleagues bemoaned the lack of your presence. It was rather amusing and dare she say it, cute, at first but as time went on and Tighnari appeared more and more on edge, Collei found herself feeling sympathetic instead.

It was during the night when Tighnari has nothing else to do that he catches himself sighing, a pout slowly forming as he twisted and turned in his bed to no avail. His ears droop and as if shocked by the act himself, he immediately sits up rigidly with an embarrassed hue tainting his skin. It was so out of character for him to feel so needy and clingy that he could almost imagine the teasing grin you’ll wear if you were to ever catch him like this. Shaking his head with a mumbled string of curses, the forest watcher knew that there is no hope of catching any sleep that night so he instead takes the notepad by his bedside and prepares to go outside. Now, he’d advise against this on normal occasions but this was him and he’d argue that no one knew the forest better than he does so it should be fine. He doesn’t plan on staying out for long anyway.

Before long the sun was rising and in just a few hours, the forest watchers would wake to start their morning patrol. Tighnari barely made it back without being caught cradling an assortment of flowers in his arms. For research, he’d determined to say if inquired about but anyone who had a mind of their own would spot the lie quite easily. And truly, even if they didn’t exercise their mind at all, one sight of Tighnari carefully preserving the Kalpalata Lotus he gathered was enough of a clue. It takes not a genius to connect the dots between the flora and the way he’d teasingly call you his lotus or some other variety when he’s feeling mischievous enough to fluster you to oblivion.

But again, like some unwritten rule, don’t comment on the new decorations you have in your room when you arrive back. Though unsaid, each flower stands for each sleepless night, and having that thought to warm you up is much better than the hour-long lecture you’d have to endure should you use his affection against him.

TAGLIST - click here to be added/removed ; remove 'href.li/?' if inaccessible

@genshiningg @serenareiss @cloudybillows @abblebabble @scaraslover @ttaechi @sugarysylz @favonius-captain @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lowilaufeyson @starforecasts @pumpikun @fiannee @nejibot @kzuhs @akiraswriting

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[tokkias]

teach me how to touch you, teach me how to love you ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Natsu's never been good with words. They don't come to him easy like they do to Lucy, when they do, they seem to get caught in his throat. Thankfully tonight, there is no need for words, just skin against skin as Lucy's lips worship his body for the very first time. ao3 nsfw under cut

Lucy’s breath is hot and heavy against his lips, swollen and bruised from the force of her own as she practically tries to eat him whole. They’ve kissed before, but never like this. Never so intimate, so longing, so full of something that Natsu can’t quite place the right word to, but instead he settles on desire.

Their hands are everywhere, all over each other. He’s exploring her body in a way that is new, even though he is sure he has touched almost every inch of her until now, while her nails drag bright red tracks into his back.

"I want to touch you," she breathes against his lips, and he wants to retort and say that she’s already done plenty of touching him already, but the words seem to get caught in his throat as he meets her gaze, fogged over with her need for him. "Show me how."

He doesn’t really know what she means. He thinks it’s pretty obvious how he wants her to touch him. He wants her to stroke his dick until he cums all over her hands, but it seems that what is obvious to him doesn’t seem to be obvious to her. So he grabs at the waistband of his boxers—the only thing keeping him from being fully exposed to her—ready to shimmy out of them, but she stops him as she rests her hands atop his and rests down on his thighs, blocking his path.

"No," she tells him, barely a whisper that gets caught in the dead silent air of her bedroom. "Where else do you want me to touch you?"

He looks at her wide-eyed, not expecting her question, and he himself doesn’t know the answer.

He’s never touched himself like that. He’s touched his penis and his balls, and that’s always been enough for him. Any other exploration of his body would be weird and unnecessary, but he can’t help but think that he wants her to explore his body; he just doesn’t know where to start. But she’s looking at him expectantly, and he needs to give an answer if he wants this, and he really, really wants this.

"Neck," is what he settles on, and it comes out a little hoarse and uncertain, but if Lucy notices, she doesn’t mention it.

He doesn’t know about erogenous, but he knows his neck is sensitive. It’s only known the comfort of his scarf brushing against it, so when he feels her fingertips graze the nape of his neck, he shudders.

He doesn’t know why he’s getting like this—all flustered and bothered with her sitting in his lap. He knows he shouldn’t, because it’s Lucy, but maybe that’s exactly the reason why he is. Because it’s Lucy, and she’s sitting in his lap, and she’s touching his neck with erotic intent, and by god, it’s working.

He’s never thought that being touched like this could turn him on, but here he is, dick twitching in his boxers as she runs her hand lightly down his neck before coming to rest on his shoulder. If that isn’t enough, she pulls herself closer, and he can feel her breath against his neck right before she presses a kiss to the skin. For a moment, he expects her to bite and nip and suck, but she doesn’t. She just peppers little kisses across his scar, and if he wasn’t so horny he could almost burst, it would be almost romantic.

It's good. It’s so, so good.

She’s so gentle and tender, and those words aren’t ones he had previously associated with sex, but he associates them with Lucy, and now sex and Lucy are two concepts he will never be able to untangle again.

Her lips trace up his jaw before she settles on a spot right below his ear, where she begins to suckle on the skin. It’s soft and light at first, but then he feels her teeth graze against his skin, and she’s marking him. He doesn’t know if he could be more turned on, but he does know that Lucy could probably make it happen if she set her mind to it.

For a moment, he forgets how to breathe, and he doesn’t even notice until Lucy’s lips detach from his neck and she places a soothing kiss against the bruise that she has caused, and she speaks up again.

"Was that good?"

Good is an understatement. Good is the bare minimum when it comes to describing how she just made him feel. Good isn’t even close. But he doesn’t have the words to describe how she just made him feel and probably never will, so it’s what he settles on, and he breathlessly nods along.

When they crawled onto her bed together, they did so with the sole intention of having sex. He expected little to no foreplay, happy to just let years of pent-up sexual frustration out on each other. He didn’t expect the foreplay to be so tender, to make him feel so much better than if Lucy had just followed along with his whims and wrapped her dainty little hands around his cock. He didn’t expect to feel her wash him over with her love through her lips on his body.

If they didn’t have sex tonight, if they never did, he would be happy with that. He would be wholly and completely content to just let her touch him, and maybe, in turn, to touch her.

"Where next?" She asks, her voice breathy, like she’s lost it on the edge of his jaw, but her eyes are eager and willing to please.

Anywhere is what he wants to say, and he means it wholly, truly. She could touch him anywhere, and he thinks that he would come undone from that alone, but he also knows that that’s not the answer she wants. She wants him to guide her and let her know when he’s liking what she’s doing, which is difficult to do when he can hardly hold himself together.

"Can you please touch my chest?" He manages out.

It comes out as a question, even though he knows she won’t say no, but something about the way she has him like putty in her hands has him remembering his manners. It’s not necessary, but it feels right in the moment because he’s practically melting like an ice cube on the sear of his own skin, and he fears that if he doesn’t let her know how grateful he is for her, then she’s going to stop.

Thankfully, she doesn’t stop. She follows his directions and lets her hands fall from his shoulders down to his chest, where she rests them just against his collarbones. It’s a bit awkward given that she’s sitting in his lap and there’s little room between them, but Natsu isn’t about to complain. It barely even registers in his brain that maybe it’s an uncomfortable position for her until he’s being coaxed onto his back and her lips are against his once again.

He savours the moment as long as he can before she pulls away and he’s met with the sight of her looking down on him, and for a moment he wonders if he has died and gone to a very erotic version of heaven.

She’s completely nude, save for the pair of pink lace panties that tie her up with a pretty pink bow, and her hair drapes across her shoulders like golden waterfalls. Somehow, she is cute, beautiful, and sexy all at the same time, and he pities every man who isn’t him because he knows that she is his and he is hers.

His hands come to rest on her waist, enjoying the way her skin feels under his palms. He’s touched her before, but he’s never felt the electricity that sparks when he does so now. He’s never felt the lava-hot fire that courses through his veins and makes his heart race hard and fast in his chest, and dusts his cheeks red.

Slowly, her hands move down his chest, over his pecs, and down to the waistband of his boxers. Once she makes it there, her fingers begin to wander in a path that is much less linear this time. They trail over his abs and his scars, almost as if she is trying to memorise him through her fingertips.

For perhaps the first time since her hands began to work all of his senses, he has enough composure to smirk up at her, and the way her face is a deep flush from ogling his body. He’s proud of his body, and he’s not going to hide the smug expression on his face, knowing that she appreciates his toned form.

When she notices him looking, she averts her gaze slightly, embarrassed. In that moment, he catches a glimpse of the Lucy he knows and loves. The one that he thought she was before he realised that she was a vixen, a sex goddess, sent down to make him feel all the things he can’t feel when he’s alone at night, with nothing but the company of those seductive-looking Sorcerer Weekly spreads of hers, dirtied and stained from many lonely nights.

He loves that Lucy, but he loves this one too, and he doesn’t even care that she’s got him so down bad that he, Natsu Dragneel, the loud, rowdy, take no shit dragon slayer of the Fairy Tail guild, is a mess beneath her.

She leans down and places a kiss on his chest, right above his heart, and he’s certain she can feel the way his heart beats for her through her lips. They trail down his body, paying attention to every mark and scar that lines his body. The palms of her hands run down the side of his torso, and it sooths him and turns him on all at once.

For good measure, she grinds her hips against him, and it takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. His nails dig into the delicate skin of her waist to try and hold himself together. He’s never been good at holding himself back in any aspect of his life, but he will do it for Lucy, always for Lucy.

All the effort that goes into keeping himself from creaming his pants results in the moan he was trying to hold in leaving his lips, escaping in a long, languid groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure. For a moment, he thinks she might tease him for it, but she doesn’t. Her mouth is preoccupied with his body, licking, kissing, worshipping every part of him.

She pulls away from him for a moment to admire him—all of him. Her fingertips toy with the scar on his lower abdomen, slowly, carefully tracing around it. He’s not even sure if she’s aware that she’s doing it. She isn’t paying any mind to it; she’s just looking down at her with all the love and adoration in the world.

It’s like she doesn’t have a clue what she does to him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing; he’s never had sex before, and neither has she, but this whole thing—being sexy and sensual, turning him on, making him feel good—seems to just come to her so naturally. He’d call it unfair; he wants to be the one making her feel good, but he’s in no position to complain, and she seems to be enjoying herself, so he lets her.

"Where to next?" She asks with a roll of her hips, and his answer comes in the form of a groan he lets out as he throws his head back.

He’s loving her foreplay, he’s loving her touch, he’s loving everything that she’s doing to him, but right now he’s aching to have her, and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out.

"Please, Lucy," he murmurs as he grabs her hips and thrusts up into her. "I need you."

His words feel vague, like they’re not enough, but she understands what he means because she always does.

She shuffles off him, and her thumbs slip into the waistband of his boxers, and with a little help from him, he shimmies out of them before kicking them somewhere to the floor. With that final layer shed, he’s fully exposed to her, and it’s not for the first time, but it certainly is the first time that it’s like this.

For the first time tonight, she seems unsure of herself, like she doesn’t know where to go from here. She’s eying up his length cautiously before her eyes flick up to meet his own.

"Can I?"

He nods frantically, perhaps a little too desperate, but he doesn’t care. He wants nothing more than to feel her hands wrap around him like she has in all of his fantasies. He can hardly comprehend that this isn’t just one of his fantasies until he feels her dainty fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. A choked gasp escapes him at the sensation, and taken off guard by it, Lucy pulls away slightly.

"Sorry, was that no good?" She asks, looking wary at his reaction. "I’ve never done this before…"

"No, that was—" He doesn’t quite have the words to describe how it felt, so instead he diverts slightly. "Do you want me to show you?"

Lucy nods wordlessly, and he sits up and leads her hand to his cock. She wraps her fingers around him again, more confidently this time, and his hand rests on top of hers. He guides her up and down, finding a steady rhythm that he likes. On instinct, he squeezes her hand, and she seems to get the message.

Once she seems more confident, he lets go, and she continues doing her thing, following the pace that he set for her, slow and steady, tightening her grip slightly on the down stroke, where she gives him a light squeeze at the base. There’s a look of thorough concentration on her face, and if he weren’t too busy almost cumming all over her hand, he’d take the time to tease her for it. Instead, he just burns the image into his brain for later, because she has no damn right to look this cute while she’s jerking him off.

It feels so damn good, but it’s not enough, and he knows that it’s selfish because Lucy is giving him everything, but he wants so badly for her to ride him. He wants to feel her more intimately than he ever has; he wants to make her feel good. He wants to become one with her, to stop knowing where his body ends and hers begins, so when he feels himself on the edge of climax, he has to stop her before they go too far because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to last much longer and he doesn’t want to end the night without making her legs shake with ecstasy.

She freezes when she feels him grab her wrist, and she looks up at him with questioning eyes. She looks almost disappointed, like she’s upset that he stopped her before she could make him cum.

"Let’s have sex," he rasps, direct and ineloquent, just like he is, but it gets the message across, and the way Lucy’s eyes fog over with lust tells him that they are on the same page.

She doesn’t reply, but she pulls off her panties, and that’s answer enough for him.

She slings one leg over him and lowers herself slightly, so she’s barely hovering above his cock. There’s a moment where he feels her slick folds brush against him, but it’s just that—a moment. It’s a little tease of what’s to come, and he knows that once he gets to feel her, he’s never going to be the same again.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, dragging her nails lightly across his scalp, and he hums in complete contentment. His hands find their home on her hips before she pulls him into a kiss. It’s their last kiss before the point of no return, where their relationship will never be the same. Going from best friends to romantic partners had happened so naturally that it was like there was no line at all, but tonight they are crossing the line into what they were always going to become. Tonight, they are lovers.

When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against his, and he is all consumed with her. There is nothing going through his mind except Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. She’s all he can taste, feel, smell. She is everything, and he is about to have her in her purest form.

Her hand slips between her thighs, and this time he manages to hold back any noises he’s tempted to let out when he feels her hand on his cock as she lines herself up with him.

"Are you ready?"

He doesn’t think he’s felt more ready for anything in his life, and that confidence seeps through his every word when he speaks back to her.

"Let’s do this."

The very moment he feels her sink down onto him, he feels like he has hit heaven. She’s so slick that there’s no friction, and her body gives way to him so easily. Despite that, she’s tight around him, clenching down on his dick so tight that it feels like she physically can’t take any more of him in her, but she continues anyway.

She goes slow, which he is infinitely grateful for because if she were any faster, he’d become overstimulated and finish far too quickly. When she goes slow like this, he gets to fully appreciate the feeling of her body around him. He gets to focus on the little whimpers that she’s letting out as he fills her up—tiny, meek-sounding noises that are practically whispered in his ear like a secret only he gets to know.

When she reaches his base, having taken him in his entirety, they both pause for a moment, adjusting to the new sensations they’re feeling. Lucy’s arms wrap around his neck, where her hands dangle loosely behind him while she rests her forehead on his shoulder. His hands snake around her body until he’s holding her tight against his chest, and they’re little more than a tangle of limbs and love.

"You okay?" He murmurs against her skin.

She nods lightly against his shoulder. "Just a little bit… big. I need some time to adjust."

He knows that size isn’t everything, but hearing her say it does good things to his ego.

Though they are both equally inexperienced, she seems to know more about what she’s doing than he does, so he’s happy to let her take the lead and set the pace. She takes her time, wiggling her hips slightly to try and get used to this new feeling of being filled to the brim. In the time she’s taking to adjust, Natsu glides his hands across her body, up her back, down her sides before coming to rest on her ass, where he gives it a light squeeze.

She squeaks slightly at the contact, pulling her head away from his shoulder to let him see the disapproving pout on her face. He remains undeterred, however, pressing his lips to hers to kiss the look off of her face and squeezing her ass once more for good measure.

As if to extract revenge, Lucy gives a roll of her hips, and suddenly all control is back in her hands as he throws his head back and moans out. Her pout turns to a smirk, and now that she’s started, she has no intention of stopping.

She lifts herself up and sinks back down, grinding against him when their hips meet. Slowly, she begins to gain confidence, and she increases the pace at which she rides him. She lets out little whimpers and moans in time with each bounce on his cock, and the sound alone is almost as erotic as the fact that she’s fucking herself on his dick, and it’s better than any fantasy he’s masturbated to.

Her hands move to his shoulders for better leverage, and his hands grip on her ass, helping to guide her up and slam back down onto him. Every time he reaches her deepest point, she lets out a moan, and the sound of it, knowing that he’s making her feel good, makes him twitch inside her.

"Y-ou feel- ah~! S-s-oh good," Lucy manages to say.

Her breath shakes and quivers as she rides him, and her pussy clenches so tight around him that he’s not sure how long he’s going to last. It seems that she shares the sentiment based on the way her body quivers and she pants with each movement she takes.

After a few moments, she starts slowing down, unable to keep up with the quick pace she set prior. He’s not bothered by it, still enjoying the slow movement of each roll of her hips, but she can see in the crease of her brow the frustration that’s setting in as she sits so close to the edge but not being able to give herself the final push.

It’s then that he takes matters into his own hands, unwilling to let her teeter. He wants to see her moan and thrash and come completely undone in his lap. So he grabs her hips, fingertips digging into her soft, plump ass, and lifts her up before slamming her back down, meeting her with a thrust of his own.

She doesn’t protest—the opposite, in fact. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she lets him take over. Her grip on his shoulders loosens now that she has no need for the leverage and instead, she tangles her fingers through his hair, gripping to try and keep herself tethered to reality.

The concentrated look she had on her face as she rode him was cute, but he likes this expression better—completely brainless with pleasure as he bucks up into her, hitting her so deep that he’s sure she’s going to be feeling him inside of her for days after.

"Na-ah-tsu~" She whimpers, her voice wavering as he bounces her on his cock.

He’s heard her say his name a million times before, but never like that, never with such longing, lust, desire. Never has hearing her say his name got him going like this, and he’s ready to hear her moan it like that for as long as he lives.

"Shit, Lucy," he hisses as he feels her walls clench down on him. "You feel so-hng- so fucking good."

She opens her mouth to reply, but the words die in her throat, and she can’t do anything but sit slack-jawed with absolute pleasure while he fucks her. He can feel her nails dig into the back of his head, and he takes that as an indication that he’s doing his job well.

"Please, I’m--" She chokes out. "Oh god! Yes Natsu! Please keep going!"

Following her orders, he maintains his pace. His breath is heavy and ragged as his body begins to ache from overexertion, but he has no plans to stop until she’s reached the absolute peak of pleasure. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, biting down on his lower lip as he uses what’s left of his strength to fuck her until she can’t do anything but sob out his name.

He doesn’t want to finish until she does, but she’s clenched so tight around him that he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last, so he makes the most of what he has left and pounds deep inside her pussy, trying to elicit all those sounds she had been making. With one particularly deep thrust, she wails out and her legs begin to shake, and Natsu takes that as permission to let himself go too. A throaty moan escapes his lips as he releases his seed deep inside of her.

He holds her tight against him in their mutual undoing, and he can feel droplets of sweat roll down her back and hit her arms, but he doesn’t care. He’s seen her in her worst state; he loved her then and he loves her now, no matter how gross, sweaty, and sticky they both are. He loves that it comes from their love, from their mutual need to pleasure each other until they’re both panting, sated messes.

Together, they sit, holding each other tight. He’s gone soft inside of her, but he’s yet to pull out because neither is keen to move from their embrace. His head is still resting on her shoulder, and he barely manages to register the fact that she is doing the same; his head fogged over from his orgasm.

He lifts his head up only slightly, just enough that his lips brush against her shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the skin, lingering maybe a few moments too long. Upon feeling this, Lucy pulls away too and looks up at him. Her cheeks are flushed all the way up to her ears, and she’s still panting to regain her breath.

She smiles, and it’s too much for his heart to handle, so he kisses her. He kisses her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and she giggles lightly against his lips. Right then, Natsu is convinced that nothing will ever be better than this moment.

When their lips have barely parted, he tightens his hold on her and pulls them both down to flop down onto the mattress together.

"Natsu!" Lucy squeals, feigning terror at his sudden action, but he knows how to read her, and the way her lips quirk up in the corner tells him that she liked it anyway.

It’s quiet between them from there, their chests rising and falling in sync with one another. Natsu thinks he should say something, to break the ice, as it were, in this new facet of their relationship, but he’s not great with words, and nothing he can think of sounds right.

"You’re awesome," is what he settles on, and it’s not eloquent and it’s not quite enough, but it’s what he manages to say.

"Really? We just had sex, and that’s all you have to say?"

"The sex was awesome too," he grins. Lucy rolls her eyes, but he knows it’s only for show.

"It was awesome," she finally agrees, and Natsu doesn’t hide his grin at her use of his juvenile wording.

He knows she could describe it better, but they both know she doesn’t need to. It goes unspoken, like a lot of things between them, because they know each other. There’s a mutual understanding, a connection that goes beyond words, something they share with no one but the other. That’s why, when she runs her hand through his hair and pulls him into another kiss, he knows what she means. He knows that it’s a promise, a vow, an acknowledgement of that little string of fate that has tangled in their lives and brought them together to where they are now.

He hopes that promise also includes a lot more sex after tonight, because there certainly will be, if he has anything to say about it.

[blainesebastian]

celebrating you

words: 1,654 ship: austin x female reader summary: @whoreforbrownies requested: fluffy reader celebrating austin's fragrance campaign. more details in posted q and a :) warnings: none notes: masterlist is here! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief, @stylespresleyhearted

You’ve always been someone who likes to celebrate—not just putting up Halloween or Christmas decoration months in advance or throwing surprise birthday parties, but by having this incredibly warm aura that makes sure to praise family, friends and your partner. Admittedly, that’s come with a few downfalls in the past—more often than not, you’re always looking after other people while no one looks after you. It’s not something done on purpose, you know that, yet you sometimes find yourself in this rut of being there for others that you forget to take care of yourself.

That changes with Austin.

He reminds you how good it feels to have someone take care of you, how it should be something necessary, a balance within your relationship. He celebrates you just as often as you celebrate him—there are moments that he’s completely taken you by surprise. Not because there’s some obligation of a holiday or a birthday, but because it’s a Thursday in the middle of the month and he wants to buy you flowers and your favorite latte.

So, in turn, it makes celebrating your boyfriend a lot more organic feeling. It’s not out of responsibility or requirement, but because both of you know the value of the other.

Lately there’s been so much to be excited about when it comes to Austin’s career—first Elvis and everything that it brought with it, Bikeriders wrapping up, Masters of the Air, and now a slightly different turn with this fragrance campaign. You couldn’t be happier for him, not only does it come with a photoshoot to highlight how beautiful Austin is, but an interview to also showcase that same beauty on the inside. It’s really what you love most about him, something that drew you in in the first place. Austin’s kind, thoughtful, considerate, and a hundred other things that make you feel warm from the inside out.

Pretty much why it’s a no-brainer to put together something special for him.

You decide one morning, right before Austin leaves for the day for a handful of different meetings, that you’re going to decorate the entire apartment. It’s gonna involve baking and dinner too but one step at a time. Your friend, Carly, comes over and helps, buying extra tape that she sets on the kitchen counter.

“All this for a fragrance campaign?” She asks, but she’s amused as her eyes rest on the multiple sets of streamers and balloons that still need to be put together and hung.

“Yes,” You grin excitedly, picking up a cup of coffee to take a sip. “It’s not just about the cologne, I’m just proud of him—it’s a new step in a different direction, you know?”

“I know,” Carly smirks, moving to grab the coffee pot to pour herself some more too, “You’re in love,” Her voice is warm and teasing, “I get it. I’d celebrate him too if he was my boyfriend.”

You smile, your stomach doing that flip-flopping thing that is often associated with Austin. You know exactly how lucky you are.

“So you’ll help me with streamers?” You smile prettily at her, purposely fluttering your eyelashes in a teasing plead.

“Yeah,” She laughs, tossing a package of tape at you. It lightly hits your chest and falls back onto the counter, “Wouldn’t want him to come home with you sprawled off a ladder. Not much to celebrate in the ER.”

You gather up all the supplies to take to the living room, “C’mon then, I don’t have a ton of time before he comes home.”

Regardless that it’s the morning and you do have until early nighttime, you want to make sure you give yourself enough hours to play with to bake red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies. Dinner will be simple enough—it’s the baking that needs timed dedication.

Standing on a small stool in your living room, you take the tape from Carly’s waiting fingers and reach up to put some of the streamers into place. You’re definitely not overdoing it, just enough to make the apartment look festive.

“So…just curious,” Carly starts and you get down off the stool and move it a bit to continue the streamer line…you already know that if she’s gonna start off a conversation like that, it’s going to be something. “If Austin asked you to marry him, would you?”

A laugh startles out of your chest because, “Carly, we’ve been dating for eight months.”

“So?” She crinkles her nose, handing you another piece of tape, “My aunt and uncle were together for six before he popped the question.”

The whole concept has your stomach erupting in butterflies. You’re not saying you haven’t thought about it, because how could you not? But still…feels like something that’s a long while away. You glance back down at your friend, trying to picture what it’d look like for Austin to come home and just—

“I’d say yes,” You reply, fixing another streamer. You can’t picture something different coming out of your mouth, but before Carly gets too wound up, “But we’re far from that being a thing.”

She grins anyways and you can’t help but smile, a fond eyeroll to follow as you set up streamer on the other side of the room so it matches. Then comes the balloons and the handmade sign that goes up a little crooked but…thought that counts, right?

“Do you think I overdid it?” You ask, looking around at the living room.

Carly shakes her head, “Nah, we went through one roll of tape…two rolls would have been overdoing it.” You smirk, bumping shoulders with her for a real answer, “No,” She replies again, “I think it’s just the right amount—he’s going to love it.”

That makes something warm and golden explode in your chest and…good, you really hope so. You thank her a few more times for coming over and promise to save her some cupcakes if there are any leftover, closing the front door after she’s left. You’re hoping it doesn’t take too long to finish things up for tonight.

--

Nothing is exactly going according to plan—and you already know it’s your fault because you’ve got this concept of what ‘perfect’ is supposed to look like tonight. You should really know this by now, it’s better to land on something ‘special’ rather than ‘perfect’. It’s fine—everything is going to work out, you’re determined. So what if the cheese you bought for the chicken parm has mold on it? You can just go with pasta instead. So what if your cupcake pan has mysteriously gone missing? You can make banana bread with chocolate chips in them (a personal favorite of Austin’s).

There’s no reason to freak out over this…your boyfriend is going to love whatever you’ve put together (it only took you three times to talk yourself down off that metaphorical ledge).

Luckily, nothing else throws you off balance. Though you do wish you’d been paying closer attention to Austin’s location because you hear the front door open as you’re taking the banana bread out of the oven. Quickly setting it down on a hot pad, you tug off your oven mitts, putting your arms up and out.

“Surprise!”

Austin’s eyes are bright with surprise, a soft laugh tumbling out of his mouth as he sees the put together dinner, the banana bread, the streamers and balloons just past the kitchen in the living room. He sets down a bouquet of flowers he’s picked up for you (just because).

“It’s uh, it’s not my birthday.” He says teasingly.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you move to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Austin leans down to hug you back, squeezing, pressing his face into your hair to breathe you in,

“I know that,” You huff playfully, shaking your head, “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You pull back out of the hug a little bit, Austin’s arms still around your waist. He presses a kiss to your lips, your hand lingering on his cheek. Your stomach does that familiar fluttering that you’ve easily associated with being around him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

“For the fragrance campaign?” You offer, as if it’s obvious.

Then his face kinda does that handsome thing where he flushes, his cheeks kissing pink. Apparently it wasn’t so obvious and he’s genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

You crinkle your nose, taking a look at the decorations, the dinner, the dessert—feels fairly apparent to you because what better way to celebrate him? This is actually pretty low caliber compared to what you could have done but…the key was really not to overdo it.

“Are you saying you don’t want the banana bread?” You ask, taking a playful step back from him, “Because I’ve been known to eat an entire loaf in bed before, so—”

You act like you’re about to reach for the pan but Austin doesn’t let you get very far, lifting you up and gracefully setting you down on the kitchen counter. A soft laugh leaves your lips, your arms resting on his shoulders as he takes a step forward and settles between your legs. One of your favorite positions with him because you’re nearly eye level now.

“I mean, there’s chocolate chips,” You grin, “I really don’t need to share any part of it with you—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to cup your cheek. You lean into it, can’t help it, would gladly fumble off the kitchen counter if it meant keeping your lips locked. Eventually though, oxygen wins out. He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, pulling back a little,

“Thank you,” He whispers.

You hum a soft reply, wrapping your fingers in his shirt and tugging him forward—definitely worth celebrating with another kiss.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

For the second time, a federal court struck down a regulatory agency’s authorization of two controversial, multi-billion-dollar gas export projects in far South Texas, one of which is already under construction. 

In an Aug. 6 opinion, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Washington, D.C. Circuit cited “the nature and severity of the flaws” in reviews by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission of the two proposed gas liquefaction and export complexes, Rio Grande LNG and Texas LNG, along with the associated Rio Bravo Pipeline. 

“Although we do not take this step lightly, the circumstances here require it,” the ruling said. “We appreciate the significant disruption vacatur may cause the projects. But that does not outweigh the seriousness of the Commission’s procedural defects.”

The court wrote that FERC failed in its analyses of environmental justice and climate impacts, air pollution modeling and procedural obligations. FERC and the developers now have 45 days to seek a re-hearing.  

The two complexes in question plan to pipe in Texas shale gas, condense it and load millions of tons per year onto tanker ships for sale overseas as liquified natural gas, or LNG. Each complex costs billions of dollars, spans hundreds of acres and makes up part of an ongoing boom in gas export projects along the Gulf Coast of Texas and Louisiana. 

Rio Grande LNG parent company NextDecade said in a statement it was “disappointed in the Court’s decision and disagrees with its conclusions.” 

The company added that construction continues on the first three liquefaction trains and related infrastructure at Rio Grande LNG near Brownsville and it will examine what impact the court’s order will have on future plans for added infrastructure.

The company announced last July it had secured investor funding to begin construction on its 750-acre, $18 billion facility. 

A spokesperson for Texas LNG, a smaller, adjacent project on the Brownsville Ship Channel that is yet to secure sufficient funding, said the ruling was a procedural decision to correct a technical deficiency, which they were still studying. 

“We have full confidence FERC will address this matter judiciously and efficiently and look forward to working with them on this important issue,” the spokesperson said in a statement.

Three small surrounding cities and the local water district have passed resolutions opposing the projects, situated between national wildlife refuges and atop wetlands. 

[stormcloudrising]

The Secret Song of Florian and Jonquil Part 10: The Shrouded Lord and a Mermaid's UnKiss

December 24, 2023

Shrouded Lord_AI Generated Image by Nuevoimg_123rf

I ended last chapter with an excerpt from 1 Peter that referenced Christ as the Living Stone and proposed that George was using the legend of the Shrouded Lord in the book to mirror the biblical one. And as I discussed previously, the myth of the Shrouded Lord is in the story to inform upon Jon’s resurrection.  So, with that said, let’s jump right back in to talk about Jon Snow, the Living Stone and the kiss of life coming his way.

JON, THE SHROUDED LORD AKA, THE LIVING STONE

The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer. —Oliver Wendell Holmes

We first hear mention of the Shrouded Lord in A Dance with Dragon where after the urging of Illyrio, Tyrion boards the Shy Maid to travel to Volantis with Griff and Faegon. While travelling on the Rhoyne, Haldon and Duck regal Yollo (Tyrion) with dark tales of the legendary pirates in the area.

Haldon gave him a thin smile. "If we should encounter the Lady Korra on Hag's Teeth, you may soon be lacking other parts as well. Korra the Cruel, they call her. Her ship is crewed by beautiful young maids who geld every male they capture." This time Duck laughed, and Haldon said, "What a droll little fellow you are, Yollo. They say that the Shrouded Lord will grant a boon to any man who can make him laugh. Perhaps His Grey Grace will choose you to ornament his stony court." Duck glanced at his companion uneasily. "It's not good to jape of that one, not when we're so near the Rhoyne. He hears." "Wisdom from a duck," said Haldon. "I beg your pardon, Yollo. You need not look so pale, I was only playing with you. The Prince of Sorrows does not bestow his grey kiss lightly." His grey kiss. The thought made his flesh crawl. Death had lost its terror for Tyrion Lannister, but greyscale was another matter. The Shrouded Lord is just a legend, he told himself, no more real than the ghost of Lann the Clever that some claim haunts Casterly Rock. Even so, he held his tongue. — A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion III

Four important things are revealed to us with the first mention of this mysterious figure. First, we find out that The Shrouded Lord is a Stone Man who lives in the Sorrows. Stone men are of course those in the last stages of greyscale who live in area of the Rhoyne where a thousand years previously, Garin is said to have called down the curse on the dragon lords of old.

Secondly, Tyrion associates him with Lann the Clever, the ancient ancestor of the Lannisters from the Age of Heroes who was said to have winkle Casterly Rock from the Casterlys with only his wits. Martin is usually implying something when he mentions these ancient figures in the text, and I have a couple of ideas why he had Tyrion think of Lann at this moment. One, I will write an essay on at another time, but the second reason is because I think his plan was to have Tyrion meet The Shrouded Lord, and it would have been Gerion, his missing uncle who disappeared when he went looking for the lost Lannister Valyrian sword, Brightroar.

George did write a chapter where Tyrion met The Shrouded Lord but decided not to include it in the books. Here is what he said about the discarded chapter.

“It’s a swell, spook, evocative chapter, but you won’t read it in Dance. It took me down a road I decided I did not want to travel, so I went back and ripped it out. So, unless I change my mind again, it’s going the way of the draft of Lord of the Rings where Tolkien has Frodo, Sam Merry and Pippin reach the Prancing Pony and meet a weatherbeaten old hobbit ranger named “Trotter.” —George R R Martin

The popular fandom reason for the deletion of the chapter is that there was too much magic in the scene. I think that this is a good take and quite possibly part of the reason for the deletion. George’s writing is centered on the character and the magic is secondary. There will be a big input of magic in the story, but that will be towards the end, and so the chapter with The Shrouded Lord might have been a bit too early.

All of this makes sense but only up to a point because there have been heavily magical scenes in the story already such as the birthing of Dany’s dragons, and her visit to the HOTU. Also, in ADWD, George gave us three magical scenes…Varamyr's attempt to body jump Thistle; Arya’s introduction to the magical faces of the Faceless Men; and Bran’s first visit inside the weirwood net.

That’s a lot of magical scenes in one book and so maybe George thought that Tyrion’s encounter with The Shrouded Lord was one too many. I tend to think that the true reason the chapter was pulled is because George felt it revealed too much about Jon’s resurrection, and he wasn’t ready to show his hand yet. There is also the fact that if Tyrion did meet The Shrouded Lord, Martin would have had to give him greyscale. This is something he may have been planning to do but decided against and chose to give it to Jon Con instead.

The third interesting thing we find out is that The Shrouded Lord will grant a boon to all who will make him laugh. This is important symbolism as it has to do with why there are as many fools appearing throughout the books as they are whor*s. I’m not going to go into the explanation about fools here as this chapter is already extremely long. However, I will again direct you to Crowfood’s Daughter excellent video essay on the subject.

Finally, we find out that the mysterious figure of the Sorrows is known by three names. In addition to The Shrouded Lord, he is also called His Grey Grace and The Prince of Sorrows. It just so happens that I can show you how all these names apply to Jon. His Grey Grace is obvious as he quite likely will be considered a king…at least for a while. I’ve also showed you last chapter why Jon's symbolic color is grey; and if he does get greyscale like I’ve proposed, part of him will have the grey scaly stone like scars of the disease.

So, what about the other two names. Well let’s start first with The Shrouded Lord.

Generally, when I see a representation of The Shrouded Lord in a video or featured in an essay, it’s of the standard fantasy image of a man in shadow wearing a grey cowl like those worn by monks…similar to the one I used for the header image of this essay. But here’s the thing. Yes, a cowl can be loosely considered a shroud but it would be at the bottom of the list of synonyms.

A shroud is more properly defined as, “a length of cloth or enveloping garment in which a dead person is wrapped for burial.” And the most famous one in all history is the Shroud of Turin, purportedly, the burial cloth of Jesus that is said to have his face imprinted or ingrained in it.

Shroud of Turin, Public Domain

Understanding this meaning of shroud as a burial cloth, one can immediately see that the Shrouded Lord is quite possibly dead. Of course, as there is no cure for greyscale once it has reached the point that you are considered a stone man, it may just be symbolism. Also, as he is given the title Lord, one can also extrapolated and say that he is considered the ruler of the dead…a kind of Hades like figure. Or maybe even, regarding the story…a Night’s King like personage.

As he’s using the word shroud, that’s so closely identified with Jesus, one can also assume that George might want the reader to associate this mysterious figure from the Sorrows with his own created Christ like figure…one Jon Snow.

You’re probably saying, interesting analogy, but it doesn’t mean that The Shrouded Lord is meant to tell us about Jon’s resurrection or even has anything to do with him. And to that I say, it gets better. I missed it the first time I read the book but when I re-read A Dance with Dragons several years ago, something hit me when I reached the chapters where The Shrouded Lord is mentioned. In making the association with the Shroud of Turin, my mind immediately wondered whether George was symbolically associating The Shrouded Lord with Christ.

Having already recognized that he had set Jon up as the Christ like figure in the books who would be resurrected, I then considered the strong possibility that he was trying to tell us something about Jon’s resurrection, but I wasn’t immediately sure what the connection could be. The fact that the Shrouded Lord was a stone man and thus had greyscale; and Shireen who for some inexplicable reason, Martin also gave greyscale and then place at the Wall where she was in contact with Jon, told me that I was on to something, but again, what did it mean? And then the memories of my years of Sunday school and sitting in too many Episcopalian church services to remember kicked in and I knew the answer. I remembered.

Christ, the Living Stone!

Jesus was prophesized to be the Living Stone. Here we get the first reference in Isaiah 28:16

16 So this is what the Sovereign Lord says: “See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone,     a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation; the one who relies on it     will never be stricken with panic.

And then again in the Psalms 118:22.

The stone the builders rejected     has become the cornerstone; 23 the Lord has done this,     and it is marvelous in our eyes.

And here in 1 Peter, we get the full prophecy.

4 As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— 5 you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 6 For in Scripture it says: “See, I lay a stone in Zion,     a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him     will never be put to shame.” 7 Now to you who believe, this stone is precious. But to those who do not believe, “The stone the builders rejected     has become the cornerstone,” 8 and, “A stone that causes people to stumble     and a rock that makes them fall.” They stumble because they disobey the message—which is also what they were destined for. 9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.  10 Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. —1 Peter 2:4-10 NIV

This is the answer to the question that many in the fandom have pondered. Why did George make greyscale a part of the story? A plague is understandable. After all, his story takes place in a Middle Ages type setting when plagues were prevalent, but why one that turned its victims into living stones.

Now we know! Jesus was the Living Stone who died and was resurrected to save man. In ASOIAF, Jon is the Christ like figure who will die and be resurrected to be the savior of man. And thus, he needed to have living stone symbolism. He needed to be a living Stone and thus, George needed a way to turn him into a stone man.

In the bible, Jesus as the Living Stone is symbolic, but George made it literal for his story. This is why he invented greyscale; gave it to Shireen; and placed her at the Wall.

We now see how two of the three monikers assigned to the mysterious figure known as The Shrouded Lord can be directly connected to Jon Snow, our in-world risen Christ. He is His Grey Grace, and he is The Shrouded Lord. What about the third…the Prince of Sorrows? As George is also using it as a sobriquet for his in-world figure, it must also be connected to Jesus. Let’s look again at the Book of Isaiah for the answer.

2 For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. 3 He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. 4 Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. 6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. —Isaiah 53:2-6 KJV

This passage reminds me a bit of the tale Old Nan told Bran about the Night's King and how all records of him were destroyed and his very name forbidden; and later how Ygritte told Jon that Snow was an evil name. I would say the two are related.

Isaiah saying that Christ was not comely in our eyes also reminds me of Sansa saying that Florian was homely. The bible verse also shows us that Christ was known as a man of sorrows. Not quite the same wording as Prince of Sorrows, but then again, Jesus is also called Prince several times in other books of the bible, and Jon is quite possibly a prince in the books.

13 The God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob, the God of our fathers, hath glorified his Son Jesus; whom ye delivered up, and denied him in the presence of Pilate, when he was determined to let him go. 14 But ye denied the Holy One and the Just, and desired a murderer to be granted unto you; 15 And killed the Prince of life, whom God hath raised from the dead; whereof we are witnesses. —ACTS 3 13-15

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5 And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood. —REVELATIONS 1:5

And of course, he is known as the Prince of Peace. Now that we see how the three monikers connect to both Jesus and Jon, what about Jon’s resurrection? Might the myth of The Shrouded Lord give us some idea about his resurrection? Yes. Yes, it does, because there just so happens to be a resurrection portion of the myth that symbolically plays out with Tyrion, Sansa’s motley attire husband.

The legend of The Shrouded Lord first appears in A Dance with Dragon, the same book where Jon is killed. We first read about Garin and the curse he called down on the dragon lords of old and how the ruins of Chroyane turned into the Sorrows in TWOIAF, which was published two years after ADWD.

Lomas Longstrider wrote of the drowned ruins of Chroyane, its foul fogs and waters, and the fact that wayward travelers infected with greyscale now haunt the ruins—a hazard for those who travel the river beneath the broken span of the Bridge of Dream.

However, that was not the first time the name Garin appeared in the text. It first appeared in A Feast for Crows and is the name of one of Arianne’s childhood friends who participated in her attempt to crown Myrcella queen. After their plot is rooted out by Doran, Garin is initially sent to Ghaston Grey.

During her next bath, she spoke of her imprisoned friends, especially Garin. "He's the one I fear for most," she confided to the serving girl. "The orphans are free spirits, they live to wander. Garin needs sunshine and fresh air. If they lock him away in some dank stone cell, how will he survive? He will not last a year at Ghaston Grey." —A Feast for Crows, Princess in the Tower

According to Arianne, “Ghaston Grey was a crumbling old castle perched on a rock in the Sea of Dorne, a drear and dreadful prison where the vilest of criminals were sent to rot and die.” Sea of Dorne is filled with so much symbolic implications with the potential use of two homonyms on George’s part, Sea of Dawn or even See of Dawn, but that’s a discussion for another day. The name is also likely another homage on George’s part to his favorite fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast, as Gaston, Belle���s proverbial suitor falls to his death in the sea below during his fight with the Beast.

Ghaston Grey does sounds like the perfect symbolic prison to send a prisoner named after the ancient Rhoynar prince who called down the greyscale plague upon the dragon lords. Garin is an Orphan of the Greenblood, the descendants of Nymeria and the Rhoynar who decided to remain on the rivers and not settle on Dornish land. And so, it makes symbolic sense that he was imprisoned in the “sea.” I mentioned Garin because originally, A Feast for Crows and A Dance with Dragons was one gigantic book before it was split into two by the publisher. And so, events in the two books are basically taking place around the same time. This shows that when George introduced the myth of The Shrouded Lord in the book where Jon dies, he was already thinking of Garin and the Rhoynar.

My regular readers probably think it’s boring the number of times I repeat in my essays that George is always consistent in his use of symbolism. I repeat it often because with the depth of symbolism built into the story, it’s amazing that he never drops the ball. And because I felt strongly that Florian and Jonquil were the ancient Night’s King and Corpse Queen, and Jon and Sansa their modern-day counterpart, when I figured how The Shrouded Lord connected to Jon and his resurrection, I was stumped by Florian’s motley armor.

I knew it had to be important because when the Tyrion drowning scene played out in the Sorrows, where he played the role of the Jon/Shrouded Lord character, he was wearing motley clothing. But I was stumped at what Motley might have to do with the Shrouded Lord and stone. That is, until I recently watched one of Crowfood’s Daughter ironborn videos and discovered that she had figured out the answer. Motley represented stone.

You can watch the video, Bless Him with Stone here, but what Amanda figured out is how motley is connected to stone. Motley as we are shown in the text is how the costumes of fools are described, and by connecting this to the real-world Harlequin fool from medieval history, Amanda hit on something interesting.

She discovered that there is a real-world disease called, Harlequin Ichthyosis, that’s very like greyscale. Also called fish scale disease, it got its name from the Greek word, ichthys, which translate as fish.

Harlequin Ichthyosis

With this discovery and the connection to motley and fools in mind, Amanda soon discovered in the text that George compares the scars from Shireen’s greyscale to Patchface’s motley costume.

Grand Maester Pycelle gaped at him, aghast. "Surely you do not mean to suggest that Lady Selyse would bring a fool into her bed?" "You'd have to be a fool to want to bed Selyse Florent," said Littlefinger. "Doubtless Patchface reminded her of Stannis. And the best lies contain within them nuggets of truth, enough to give a listener pause. As it happens, this fool is utterly devoted to the girl and follows her everywhere. They even look somewhat alike. Shireen has a mottled, half-frozen face as well." Pycelle was lost. "But that is from the greyscale that near killed her as a babe, poor thing." — A Clash of Kings - Tyrion III

Mottle as Amanda’s research also showed is from the 17th century and is a back formation of motley. From there, it was then easy for her to make the connection to Florian the Fool.

This morning the puppeteers were doing the tale of Florian and Jonquil. The fat Dornishwoman was working Florian in his armor made of motley, while the tall girl held Jonquil's strings. "You are no knight," she was saying as the puppet's mouth moved up and down. "I know you. You are Florian the Fool." "I am, my lady," the other puppet answered, kneeling. "As great a fool as ever lived, and as great a knight as well." —The Hedge Knight

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"You hope to buy your way back into her favor by presenting her with me. An ill-considered scheme, I'd say. One might even say an act of drunken desperation. Perhaps if I were Jaime … but Jaime killed her father, I only killed my own. You think Daenerys will execute me and pardon you, but the reverse is just as likely. Maybe you should hop up on that pig, Ser Jorah. Put on a suit of iron motley, like Florian the—" —A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion IX

If George wants us to consider greyscale and motley in the same terms, then does that mean that Sansa’s favorite knight did not wear a motley suit of armor, but rather had greyscale. As soon as I got to this point in Amanda’s video, I knew that I had my answer about how stone connected to Florian, because it had to be if Jon, the modern-day Florian was The Shrouded Lord of the story. Eureka!

One thing I discovered in my research, which Amanda didn’t mention and so I’m not sure if she is aware is that there is a condition very similar to Ichthyosis called Livedo reticularis but more commonly known as mottled skin. It’s not as deadly or life threatening as Ichthyosis, but it does look somewhat similar.

Mottled Skin

Mottled skin causes a bluish-red, lace-like patter under the skin. Also known as Livedo reticularis, this condition happens when deoxygenated blood pools beneath the skin’s surface. This condition has many causes, including cold exposure and chronic medical conditions. —Cleveland Clinic

You can see from the picture below how similar it is to Ichthyosis. You know who else I wondered about when I read this description for mottled skin, Cold Hands. I wonder what his face and the rest of his skin looks like under his hood and cloak. But that’s a theory for another day.

One other thing Amanda’s video showed is that when you pull up mermaids on the wiki, you get a “see also” reference to Ichthyosis. It is called the fish scale disease and so that makes sense, but consistent symbolism people. Symbolism.

A MERMAID'S UNKISS

Now that we’ve discussed The Shrouded Lord, and how his myth is in the story to tell us about Jon’s resurrection as the symbolic risen Christ, let’s finally get to that resurrection and how Sansa will be smacked dab in the middle of it, something I’ve proposed for years.

Melisandre is what I like to call a shiny apple. George’s way of hiding the truth in plain sight. Because Thoros, another Red Priest brought Beric back, the fandom assumes Mel will do the same for Jon…especially as they went that route in the show.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s at the Wall because she has a role to play but it won’t consciously or unconsciously be about bringing Jon back. Although when it happens, other characters will think it was her, and she’ll likely take the credit, but it won’t be her. Mel is at the Wall to burn Shireen which will in some magical way, result in Jon getting greyscale.

I have a broad idea of how it will play out, which I will get into at the end. Mel won’t bring Jon back because what the tale of The Shrouded Lord tells us is that the return of the fiery dragon lord will be a cold one.

I have been saying for years that Jon and Sansa are the modern Florian and Jonquil and that George is telling their story through their interactions with other characters who act as stand-ins for each. In the case of Jon, Ygritte, the lover of songs, and Val, the non-maiden who Jon rejects when she looks like an icy, white hair ice queen, but thinks is loveliest thing he’s seen in a long while when she comes out of the trees of the haunted forest with her hair looking like dark honey and Ghost at her side.

As I pointed out in The Evolution of Val an essay I wrote several years ago, dark honey is dark brown in color with red highlights. A color very similar to the chestnut Sansa has been dying her hair as she hides out in the Vale. But she’s running out of dye and her red hair is symbolically beginning to peek out.

In Sansa’s arc, the role of Jon is being played by the Sandor Cleghane, the Hound. This is the angry Jon that will return with his wolf Ghost now literally a part of him. Jon will be savage like the Hound. This is why Sandor is given the Hound moniker. It’s to suggest a wolf hound…aka Jon.

Sandor’s burnt face also is there to foreshadow Jon’s face being burnt and likely where the greyscale will enter his dead body as I speculated above. This will likely happen in his funeral pyre. In Deep Geek has a great video about something like this happening. You can watch it here. Jon’s face being burnt at some point was also foreshadowed during his first meeting with Ygritte in the chapter that mirrors Sansa and Sandor on top of the Red Keep during the fiery battle of the Blackwater.

It all seemed to happen in a heartbeat. Afterward Jon could admire the courage of the wildling who reached first for his horn instead of his blade. He got it to his lips, but before he could sound it Stonesnake knocked the horn aside with a swipe of his shortsword. Jon's man leapt to his feet, thrusting at his face with a burning brand. He could feel the heat of the flames as he flinched back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sleeper stirring, and knew he must finish his man quick. When the brand swung again, he bulled into it, swinging the bastard sword with both hands. —A Clash of Kings, Jon VI

Sansa calmed the Hounds spirit when she sang him The Mother’s Hymn. And just as she tempered the Hound, she will do the same for beastly Jon, like Belle did to the Beast in George’s favorite fairy tale.

In, Do Direwolves dream of the Weirwood Net, I discussed and showed the textural evidence that suggests the bond mates of House Stark can access the weirwood net. This is important because I believe that when Jon called out to Ghost upon his death, their spirits merged, and Ghost took them into the weirwoods, and it is here that he will encounter Sansa and she will give him the kiss of life. There is a magical component that of course has yet to be revealed by the author, but textural clues suggests that this is what will happen. So, let’s now discussed those clues.

Sansa, like many other characters is an unreliable narrator. One of the biggest pieces of evidence to support this is the infamous UnKiss, as the fandom calls the kiss, she remembers sharing with the Hound.

Alla had a lovely voice, and when coaxed would play the woodharp and sing songs of chivalry and lost loves. Megga couldn't sing, but she was mad to be kissed. She and Alla played a kissing game sometimes, she confessed, but it wasn't the same as kissing a man, much less a king. Sansa wondered what Megga would think about kissing the Hound, as she had. He'd come to her the night of the battle stinking of wine and blood. He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song. —A Storm of Swords, Sansa II

The kiss Sansa remembers, never happened. We the reader watch the scene play out on the page and we know there was no kiss between her and the Hound. She thinks of the kiss that never happened for a second time later in the book when having a conversation with Myranda.

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he'd kissed her, and gave a nod. "That must have been dreadful, my lady. Him dying. There, I mean, whilst . . . whilst he was . . ." — A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Why is Sansa remembering a kiss that never happened? A fan asked GRRM via email back in 2002, and this was his response.

“Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning.” —So Spake Martin

Some in the fandom has taken Sansa’s memory of the kiss that never happened as Sansa having romantic feelings for the Hound. However, I don't think that's it. Yes, Martin, has admitted that he has played with this aspect, but I feel confident it’s not because he intended any romance between the two.

Why do I say that Martin is not going to write Sansa having romantic feelings for the Hound? Because one of the core themes of the story is the evil practice of marrying girls before they are even of age to men old enough to be their fathers and often their grandfathers. Sandor Cleghane is old enough to be Sansa’s father being just a few years younger than Ned. Plus, Sandor assaulted and terrorized Sansa. George is not going to turn around now at the end of the story and create a romance between a child and a grown man who terrorized her.

Also, and this is important, we are shown on the page and told in the text that Sansa prefers boys her age. There is Joffrey before he showed himself to be a monster; Loras, the fake Rhaegar stand-in; and Waymar Royce, the Jon stand-in. And if that is not sufficient evidence, Sansa in her own words tells us that she prefers men close to her age.

"I suppose," Sansa said doubtfully. Beric Dondarrion was handsome enough, but he was awfully old, almost twenty-two; the Knight of Flowers would have been much better. Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age. —A Game of Thrones, Sansa III

Jeyne has a crush on Beric, who is almost 22. Sansa who is 12 at the time, the same age she is when the UnKiss with the Hound supposedly took place, thinks Beric is too old, and that Loras, the Knight of Flowers who is 16 and just 4 years older than her would be much better. At the start of the story, Sandor Cleghane is 28. Why would Sansa have romantic feelings for him when she thought that Beric who is 6 years younger than the Hound was too old. Makes no sense. George is showing us that Sansa’s interest lies in boys her age.

However, GRRM has admitted that he’s been playing with the idea of something romantic between Sansa and Sandor, and so one must ask why? I think the answer is because Sandor is a stand-in for Jon, and what Sansa is remembering is not a kiss between her and Sandor but rather one between her and Jon.

In the chapter 8, I discussed why mermaids and dragonflies are symbolic sea dragons and how George has positioned Sansa as representing both. I also covered why Nagga, the sea dragon the Grey King slew was his mermaid wife and how that meant that Elenei, the mermaid wife of Durran Godsgrief should also be considered a sea dragon. However in the Durran/Elenei legend, the mermaid wife likely save her mate from drowning by giving him the kiss of life.

Then I discussed why sea dragons and mermaids represent the missing female greenseers of the story and why Nissa Nissa/Corpse Queen/Grey King’s mermaid wife was the first sea dragon and the first greenseer who was female. All of this led me to revisiting the textural clues that point to Sansa being the mermaid/sea dragon of the story and the missing female greenseer.

Legends say that mermaids or sirens as they are sometimes called often lure sailors to their death via drowning.

"A touch of fear will not be out of place, Alayne. You've seen a fearful thing. Nestor will be moved." Petyr studied her eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. "You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes." Sansa did not know what to say to that. —A Feast for Crows, Sansa I

However, sometimes they will be a savior as in the case of the Little Mermaid, and Elenei saving Durran.

And now let’s look at what Sansa being a greenseer and the UnKiss might have to do with the resurrection of Jon Snow, the Shrouded Lord of Living Stone.

“We are made of blood and bone, in the image of the Father and the Mother,” said Septa Lemore. “Make no vainglorious boasts, I beg you. Pride is a grievous sin. The stone men were proud as well, and the Shrouded Lord was proudest of them all.” The heat from the glowing coals brought a flush to Tyrion’s face. “Is there a Shrouded Lord? Or is he just some tale?” “The Shrouded Lord has ruled these mists since Garin’s day,” said Yandry. “Some say that he himself is Garin, risen from his watery grave.” “The dead do not rise,” insisted Haldon Halfmaester, “and no man lives a thousand years. Yes, there is a Shrouded Lord. There have been a score of them. When one dies another takes his place. This one is a corsair from the Basilisk Islands who believed the Rhoyne would offer richer pickings than the Summer Sea.” “Aye, I’ve heard that too,” said Duck, “but there’s another tale I like better. The one that says he’s not like t’other stone men, that he started as a statue till a grey woman came out of the fog and kissed him with lips as cold as ice.” A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion V

In one of the myths told to Tyrion about The Shrouded Lord, he is said to have started as a stone statue until a cold kiss from a grey woman awakened or one might say, resurrected him. And as I’ve shown, the legend of the Shrouded Lord in only in the story to tell us about Jon’s resurrection. Thus, Jon’s resurrection should also involve a cold kiss from a woman in grey.

As we see from Melisandre’s vision, there is a mysterious girl in grey destined to connect with Jon. Sansa is this girl in grey. George has also inexplicably written a mysterious kiss into Sansa’s arc that supposedly never took place. I proposed that this kiss, or UnKiss as the fandom likes to call it is the one that will be tied to Jon’s resurrection, and it takes place in the weirwood net where Sansa will temper the savaged Jon and like Elenei did with Durran, save him from drowning in the green sea.

As we’re dealing with the weirwoods where time is circular, the kiss may have already happened, or Sansa could be seeing a future event. Nonetheless, the fact that she has memory of it is another clue that she is a greenseer. However, because she’s traumatized and the kiss is between her and her “brother” whose face is likely burnt, making him look more like the Hound, she has confused his identity in her mind.

I said above that George loves religious myths, but do you want to know what else he loves…fairy tales. And there are abundant references to such tales throughout the text.

Many essays have been written by others in the fandom about this topic, but the two I want to talk about here are Beauty and the Beast, and The Little Mermaid because those two are heavily prevalent in Sansa’s arc and in the resurrection of The Shrouded Lord…especially the mermaid linkage.

The original Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen’s is very different from the Disney version so beloved by children, and George has merged the two in his version of the story. In Andersen’s version, mermaids live for hundreds of years and if the Little Mermaid (in the story, she is not given a name) is able to gain the love of the human prince, she will be fated to live out her days as a human. She will have a shorter life span but will gain a human soul. In ASOIAF, George gives us this tale of the fair Elenei.

The songs said that Storm's End had been raised in ancient days by Durran, the first Storm King, who had won the love of the fair Elenei, daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. On the night of their wedding, Elenei had yielded her maidenhood to a mortal's love and thus doomed herself to a mortal's death, and her grieving parents had unleashed their wrath and sent the winds and waters to batter down Durran's hold. His friends and brothers and wedding guests were crushed beneath collapsing walls or blown out to sea, but Elenei sheltered Durran within her arms so he took no harm, and when the dawn came at last he declared war upon the gods and vowed to rebuild. —A Clash of Kings, Catelyn III

By the way, as I discussed in my Of Sansa Stark and Alayne Stone series, Elenei is a variant of Alayne, the name Sansa is hiding out under in the Vale as the daughter of the Merlin(g) King.

In both Andersen’s and George’s version of the tale, the mermaid saves the man from drowning. The mermaid also saves a man from drowning in the Disney version, but there is also the added detail of a kiss. While the sea witch, named Ursula in the Disney version mandates that the little mermaid must gain the prince’s love in the Andersen tale, the cartoon changes it to a kiss.

Martin has woven a life-giving kiss into his story as well with the tale of Elenei, the ironborn’s kiss of life, and even that of the R’hllorist cult with Thoros life giving the kiss to Beric and him in turn passing it on to Cat. And as we see, George has also woven it into the legend of The Shrouded Lord.

“Aye, I’ve heard that too,” said Duck, “but there’s another tale I like better. The one that says he’s not like t’other stone men, that he started as a statue till a grey woman came out of the fog and kissed him with lips as cold as ice.”

Did you notice Martin’s play on words there? The Shrouded Lord is not like the “Other” stone men.

Unsurprisingly, a stone statue is also a key element in both the Andersen original, and the Disney version of The Little Mermaid. In the original, the little mermaid finds the statue before she rescues the prince from drowning. It’s her first experience with anything from the human world and so, the statue becomes a prize possession. When she later rescues the prince, she realizes that he looks just like her statue, and this is part of what precipitates her falling for him.

On the other hand, in the Disney version, she finds the statue after she rescues the prince and it becomes a sign for her that she should follow him to the human world and this precipitates her visit to Ursula the sea witch.

We see that George has heavily built the tale of the Little Mermaid into his sea dragon and Shrouded Lord myths. So, what does all of this have to do with Jon’s resurrection, Sansa, and The Shrouded Lord?

Funnily enough, the very next Tyrion chapter after we first hear about The Shrouded Lord, the Shy Maid finally makes it to the Sorrows and is attacked by the Stone Men, leading to the near-death drowning experience of Sansa’s motley dressed husband and the answer to the question is provided. Let’s look at this chapter.

Chroyane_by Philip Straub_The World of Ice and Fire

“The Shy Maid moved through the fog like a blind man groping his way down an unfamiliar hall. Septa Lemore was praying. The mists muffled the sound of her voice, making it seem small and hushed. Griff paced the deck, mail clinking softly beneath his wolfskin cloak.” —A Dance with Dragon, Tyrion V

Make note that Griff , *Jon* Connington is wearing a wolfskin cloak, marking him as a symbolic wolf in the scene. This next excerpt is pretty long, but it is needed so that one can see all the symbolism and order of events playing out.

“Just saying a thing does not make it true. Who better to raise Prince Rhaegar’s infant son than Prince Rhaegar’s dear friend Jon Connington, once Lord of Griffin’s Roost and Hand of the King?” “Be quiet.” Griff’s voice was uneasy. On the larboard side of the boat, a huge stone hand was visible just below the water. Two fingers broke the surface. How many of those are there? Tyrion wondered. A trickle of moisture ran down his spine and made him shudder. The Sorrows drifted by them. Peering through the mists, he glimpsed a broken spire, a headless hero, an ancient tree torn from the ground and upended, its huge roots twisting through the roof and windows of a broken dome. Why does all of this seem so familiar?” “Straight on, a tilted stairway of pale marble rose up out of the dark water in a graceful spiral, ending abruptly ten feet above their heads. No, thought Tyrion, that is not possible. “Ahead.” Lemore’s voice was shivery. “A light.” All of them looked. All of them saw it. “Kingfisher,” said Griff. “Her, or some other like her.” But he drew his sword again. No one said a word. The Shy Maid moved with the current. Her sail had not been raised since she first entered the Sorrows. She had no way to move but with the river. Duck stood squinting, clutching his pole with both hands. After a time even Yandry stopped pushing. Every eye was on the distant light. As they grew closer, it turned into two lights. Then three. “The Bridge of Dream,” said Tyrion. “Inconceivable,” said Haldon Halfmaester. “We’ve left the bridge behind. Rivers only run one way.” “Mother Rhoyne runs how she will,” murmured Yandry. “Seven save us,” said Lemore. Up ahead, the stone men on the span began to wail. A few were pointing down at them. “Haldon, get the prince below,” commanded Griff.”

The large stone hand is like the symbolic hand of God hearing Tyrion’s words and passing judgment because just as they pass it, things get a bit crazy as some type of magic kicks in. Rivers only run one way except for in ASOIAF. Even their dialogue as they pass the bridge again is the same, but with differences.

The leap had shattered one of his legs, and a jagged piece of pale bone jutted out through the rotted cloth of his breeches and the grey meat beneath. The broken bone was speckled with brown blood, but still he lurched forward, reaching for Young Griff. His hand was grey and stiff, but blood oozed between his knuckles as he tried to close his fingers to grasp. The boy stood staring, as still as if he too were made of stone. His hand was on his sword hilt, but he seemed to have forgotten why. Tyrion kicked the lad’s leg out from under him and leapt over him when he fell, thrusting his torch into the stone man’s face to send him stumbling backwards on his shattered leg, flailing at the flames with stiff grey hands. —A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion V

Again, the hint of a man getting his face burnt. Tyrion knocked Young Griff down to protect him, but the stone man gets away and goes for the boy again.

“Stand aside!” someone shouted, far away, and another voice said, “The prince! Protect the boy!” The stone man staggered forward, his hands outstretched and grasping. Tyrion drove a shoulder into him. It felt like slamming into a castle wall, but this castle stood upon a shattered leg. The stone man went over backwards, grabbing hold of Tyrion as he fell. They hit the river with a towering splash, and Mother Rhoyne swallowed up the two of them. As he’s dragged to the bottom of the river by the stone man, Tyrion thinks, “there are worse ways to die than drowning.” And then we get this ending passage. I’ll haunt the Seven Kingdoms, he thought, sinking deeper. They would not love me living, so let them dread me dead. When he opened his mouth to curse them all, black water filled his lungs, and the dark closed in around him.

Tyrion, Sansa's motley wearing husband almost drowns in the green sea, and as it happens, he thinks of haunting the Seven Kingdoms as a dead man. I wonder what or better yet, who that might be foreshadowing?

When next we see Tyrion, he’s waking up and remembers dreaming of getting a grey kiss from the Shrouded Lord.

“He dreamt of his lord father and the Shrouded Lord. He dreamt that they were one and the same, and when his father wrapped stone arms around him and bent to give him his grey kiss, he woke with his mouth dry and rusty with the taste of blood and his heart hammering in his chest. “Our dead dwarf has returned to us,” Haldon said. “Tyrion shook his head to clear away the webs of dream. The Sorrows. I was lost in the Sorrows. “I am not dead.” —A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion VI

He then comments on his surroundings and we get this passage.

He was on the Shy Maid, Tyrion saw, under a scratchy blanket that smelled of vinegar. The Sorrows are behind us. It was just a dream I dreamed as I was drowning. “Why do I stink of vinegar?”

Why does he smell of vinegar? This bit is extremely important, and I will tell you why shortly. It’s George and his bloody consistent symbolism and another clue that he’s playing with the idea of Jon as Christ, the Living Stone.

Tyrion discovers that he was pulled from the river by Jon Con, and Septa Lemore then saved him. It was likely her kiss of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation that he mixed up with one from the Shrouded Lord in his dream.

“Lemore has been washing you with it. Some say it helps prevent the greyscale. I am inclined to doubt that, but there was no harm in trying. It was Lemore who forced the water from your lungs after Griff had pulled you up. You were as cold as ice, and your lips were blue. Yandry said we ought to throw you back, but the lad forbade it.” —A Dance with Dragon, Tyrion VI

As Crowfood’s Daughter stated in her video, Septa Lemore is a bit of an exhibitionist who likes to bathe naked in the river in sight of all…kind of like a mermaid; and Jonquil and her sisters when Florian viewed them in the Maiden Pool. Tyrion enjoyed watching Septa Lemore a few times. Thus, she is the symbolic mermaid stand-in for Sansa who gives Tyrion, the stand-in for the Shrouded Lord/Jon the icy kiss to bring him back to life. The fact that Tyrion is Sansa’s husband just completes the symbolism.

Tyrion and Griff are both stand-ins for Jon in the Sorrows scene. We've talked about Tyrion, but let's also look at what happens to Jon Con after he goes into the sorrows to rescue the little Lannister?

The symbolic wolf in the scene who just happens to have the same name as Jon Snow, is the one to get greyscale, the disease which turns one into a stone man.

If my theory that The Shrouded Lord’s purpose in the story is to tell us about Jon’s resurrection, then Jon Con is not just a symbolic wolf in the scene, but also a symbolic dragon. He was also closest to Jon's father Rhaegar as Tyrion mentions. So, it makes perfect sense that he’s the one to get greyscale in the waters where Garin called down a curse on the dragon lords of old.

As we are talking about Garin’s curse, Tyrion’s fall into the Sorrows may have proven that he’s not a Targaryen, because if he was, I think that he would have gotten greyscale. There is something magical about the Sorrows. The stone men ignored the Shy Maid as it travel through the Sorrows, and the pole boat had almost made it out the foggy landscape when Tyrion started talking about knowing that Young Griff was Rhaegar’s son, and the next thing you know, boat seem to be back where it started and they were again passing The Bridge of Dreams and this time, they were attacked by the stone men.

This plays into my theory that the story is about circular time and events are repeating but with differences…almost like different timelines. However, what I want to point out here is that on their second trip through the Sorrows when the stone men attacked, if you read the passage, they went right for Young Griff. It’s almost as if something heard Tyrion’s story and realized that there was someone with dragon blood on the boat.

So, about that vinegar. After all the evidence that shows how the description of the Shrouded Lord echoes that of the risen Christ, would you still be surprised if I tell you that vinegar also plays a part in Christ’s crucifixion?

In each of the 4 Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, it is stated that the soldiers at the crucifixion offered Jesus sour wine when he said he was thirsty. Sour wine is vinegar. In fact, in one of the gospels, it is said that Jesus is given sour wine to drink while the others refer to it as vinegar because that is basically what sour wine is…vinegar.

they gave Him sour wine mingled with gall to drink. But when He had tasted it, He would not drink. —Matthew 27:34 KJV

36 “And one ran and filled a spunge full of vinegar, and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink, saying, Let alone; let us see whether Elias will come to take him down.” 37 With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last. —Mark 15:36-37 KJV

36 The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar 37 and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”— Luke 23:36

28 Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” 29 A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. 30 When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. — John 19:28

Sour wine was the only type of wine that soldiers would have had available to them. For this reason, some biblical scholars have argued that as it was the only thing they had to give, it was meant as a succor and not an insult. Others have argued the opposite. The reference to vinegar is not only in the 4 gospels. It is also referenced in Psalms 69.

The Psalms are part of the Old Testament and were written by King David. However, modern biblical scholars have argued that there were other writers of these group of songs. Psalms 69 is a lament, and as it is part of the Old Testament while the Gospels and the life of Christ are distilled in the New Testament, it is also seen as a prophecy of the suffering of Christ, and this is why it is associated with his crucifixion. In the Episcopalian Church, it is recited during Good Friday services, the day of Christ’s crucifixion.

It is too long for me to include, but I do want to post a few lines. You can read the full Psalms here.

1 Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul.

 2 I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.

14 Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink: let me be delivered from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters.

15 Let not the waterflood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up, and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me.

21 They gave me also gall for my meat; and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.

As you can see, in the Psalm that is believed to prophesize the coming of Jesus to save us from our sins, water is used to foreshadow drowning. Although in the Psalms, the drowning is more spiritual in nature. On the other hand, in George’s tale, water is used to symbolize drowning in the green sea/weirwood net, which is what will be happening to Jon as his spirit resides in Ghost and he’s taken into the weirwood net.

It's Sansa, whose symbolic color like Jon, is grey because she is a daughter of House Stark; and thus, is wearing that color in Melisandre’s vision; and who happens to have red Night’s Queen hair, who will save Jon from drowning.

In part 3 of this series, I discussed the textural evidence that suggests the corpse queen was a redhead. However, a non-textural but still important clue to back up this idea is that in western art, mermaids are traditionally featured as redheads. There is no reference to hair color in the Andersen tale, but Disney’s famous Ariel is a redhead.

A Mermaid by John William Waterhouse

Let’s now recap the Tyrion chapters set in and around the Sorrows that occur in ADWD, the book where Jon Snow is killed and his spirit merges with his wolf and goes into the weirwood net as foreshadowed in the Varamyr prologue. We get several chapters that both foreshadows Jon’s resurrection and that he will get greyscale that turns one into a stone like figure.

First, we get the story of the leader of the stone men, The Shrouded Lord that echoes that of the real world risen Christ who was called the Living Stone.  Jon Snow is symbolically set up as the Christ like figure in ASOIAF.

There is also Jon Con, who just happens to have the same name as Jon Snow; and who just happens to be wearing a wolfskin cloak before he goes into the Sorrows; being the one to get greyscale…a disease that turns one into a stone man.

And we have Sansa, who George has strongly set up as a symbolic mermaid/sea dragon and who I argue is the missing female greenseer in the story associated with a mysterious kiss that has already happened; or possibly is still to occur. A kiss that she remembers happening with the Hound, but all evidence points to there not being anything of a romantic nature between them. There is also the fact that Sandor’s story mirrors Jon and he’s set up as the Jon stand-in in Sansa’s arc.

We have the tale of the Shrouded Lord starting out as a stone statue and being given life by the kiss from a grey woman who had lips as cold as ice. This woman’s cold lips and her grey color can’t help but make one think of the corpse/night’s queen. And further to the grey woman who kisses the Shrouded Lord, in the same book, we hear of Melisandre’s vision of a mysterious girl wearing Stark colors and coming to Jon at the Wall.

There is also all the mermaid symbolism in the text of them rescuing a drowning male, and how this symbolically plays out with Septa Lemore saving Tyrion in the scene where he acts as the stand-in for the Shrouded Lord. A scene that also echoes that of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection with the use of vinegar.

I could go into detail of how Sansa’s interaction with Dontos, the stand-in for Florian in her arc also symbolically mirrors that of a mermaid saving a man from drowning, but this chapter is already overlong. As a result, I will again suggest that you watch Crowfood’s Daughter video, The Grey King’s Mermaid Wife for more details.

Now that I’ve discussed all the clues that suggest Sansa will have a role to play in Jon’s resurrection as well as why the Shrouded Lord is a stand-in for Jon, you might wonder how I think his return will play out.

Well, I think that Melisandre will have a role to play in the events, but she won’t be fully responsible for his return. With her, it will be more of an accident. I think that the kiss between Sansa and Jon will take place out of time in the weirwood net, and it will in some way, magically push Jon back into his body, but he will bring some of Ghost’s savage nature with him.

On the Melisandre angle, I think that she will burn Jon. She keeps asking R’hllor to show her Stannis but all she sees is Snow. She’s seeing Jon both literally and symbolically. Her vision includes a lot of snow which has begun to fall, but as we know, and saw in the TV show, ashes can also look like snow, and that’s what Mels is seeing around Jon.

Stannis tells Justin Massey that rumor may reach them that he is dead. Will that be true or not is not the subject for now, but I think that it’s possible that Melisandre may entertain this idea when she continues to be unable to see him in the fire, and even with his death, she continues to see Jon Snow in the flames.

Maybe this will lead her to recognizes that snow can sometimes look like ashes and then she comes to the realization that she should burn Jon. The Nights Watch and Wildings who will join to dispatch those who kill Jon would want to burn his body in either case to prevent it turning into a wight.

And this is where the prophecy of waking dragons from stones will come in. As far as Melisandre is concern, that hasn’t yet happened, and so in her quest to help the missing Stannis, she may see the burning of Jon as the way to make it so. She asks for Azor Ahai, but the flames keep showing her Jon Snow. Yes, Jon is dead, but maybe she thinks the R’hllor is telling her that the burning of his body will still lead to Azor Ahai, who she believes is Stannis.

Also, while she doesn’t know about Jon’s connection to Rhaegar and that he also has Targaryen blood, the Starks come from a long line of ancient kings and his brother was recently crowned king. Thus, to her, Jon also has king’s blood. But she needs two kings to wake the dragon, and that’s where Shireen comes in.

Shireen is not a king, but she is Stannis heir and has king’s blood. And so, Melisandre has her two kings to wake a dragon. Jon Snow and Shireen. It won’t be very difficult for Mels to convince Selyse to burn her daughter to the cause…especially if it will help Stannis. The queen is a devout fanatic. Does Melisandre think she will be waking a real dragon from stone? Possibly, but who knows. The point is that she’s doing it because she thinks it will help Stannis.

The interesting thing is that the Wildings and the remaining Nights Watch brothers won’t do anything to stop it. The Wildings will be the ones primarily in charge, and as we see from Val, they already think that Shireen should not be alive because of her greyscale. So, they won’t stop Melisandre from burning her.

Where will all of this take place? Radio Westeros has a great theory that Jon’s pyre will be in the weirwood grove of nine where he and Sam said their vows. It’s a great theory and makes a lot of sense, and so, I wouldn’t rule it out. However, I also wouldn’t rule out Jon’s pyre being at the Nightfort.

As I’ve said throughout this series, Jon and Sansa will be this timeline’s version of the Night’s King and corpse queen. As these two ancient figures are so associated with the Nightfort, it seems like Jon’s resurrection should take place there, but I don’t know what reason Melisandre would have to take the body there to burn…unless Castle Black is destroyed.

Shireen and Jon will burn in the same pyre or ones next to each other and while Jon’s body will be frozen initially, the heat will melt it and open the wounds given to him by his murder. And the greyscale ashes from Shireen will enter the wounds, giving him greyscale just as he’s being pushed back into his body and awakens. And, we have the dragon waking from stone.

While the details maybe different, I think that the ideas behind what some will call a hairbrained theory is sound when you consider that Jon must get greyscale if he is to become the Shrouded Lord and personify the Living Stone that was Jesus. The wine at the Wall is even called sour and so I would not be surprised to see that playing a part in his resurrection as well. Maybe Jon’s brothers will have a toast to him and throw some sour wine on his pyre.

The other boys gathered round the eight who had been named, laughing and cursing and offering congratulations. Halder smacked Toad on the butt with the flat of his sword and shouted, "Toad, of the Night's Watch!" Yelling that a black brother needed a horse, Pyp leapt onto Grenn's shoulders, and they tumbled to the ground, rolling and punching and hooting. Dareon dashed inside the armory and returned with a skin of sour red. As they passed the wine from hand to hand, grinning like fools, Jon noticed Samwell Tarly standing by himself beneath a bare dead tree in the corner of the yard. Jon offered him the skin. "A swallow of wine?" Sam shook his head. "No thank you, Jon." —A Game of Thrones, Jon V

Note how Sam who is no longer at the wall and wasn’t there for the mutiny and so won’t be there for Jon’s resurrection is written as separate from Jon and the other boys in the scene. Martin and his consistency.

So to recap, in the same book that Jon Snow, the Christ like figure of the story is murdered, and path to resurrection foreshadowed in the Varamyr prologue, George also gives us the myth of The Shrouded Lord, a stone statues that is brought to life by the cold kiss of a grey woman... a legend which mirrors the resurrection of real world Jesus.

George also places Shireen, the child who carries the greyscale disease that causes men to turn to stone at the Wall next to dragon blooded Jon. ln in the same book, Melisandre also get's a vision of a mysterious girl in grey traveling through the snow to Jon...a girl that strong clues suggests is Sansa. All of these elements that mirror the Shrouded Lord legend coalescing around Jon Snow. Happenstance? I say no.

As we wind things down, let’s revisit the question of why George wrote greyscale into his story? Well, as I’ve just shown, he did it so that Jon, the Jesus like figure in the story can mirror the real world risen Christ as the Living Stone. However, on a deeper philosophical level, I think that he wrote greyscale into his tale to show that organize religion…especially one with a deify figure at the head can be a plague upon the people.

George questions things…especially dogma, knowing that there are often no answers to the universal questions we all ask. While he may no longer believes the religious teachings he was taught in his youth, they have had a major influence on him and his writings. He loves the lore of the Christian faith and various world religions, and that’s why his stories are filled with so much mythology.

Nonetheless, he also recognizes that much evil has been done in the name of religion since the first such organization showed its face upon the world thousands of years ago. It doesn’t matter what the religion has been. Evil has been done in its name. This is because organize religion otherizes people. It creates an us versus them dichotomy.  And if you are not part of the us, then you must be “other,” with all that it implies.

You don’t belong. Your beliefs are wrong. You’re a sinner…etc. This theme about the evilness at the heart of organize religion and the deification of individuals is at the core of ASOIAF. I think it’s what D&D attempted to capture in their ham-fisted way on the show with Dany. Worshiping glorified God-like figures is never a good thing.

However, as I’ve stated, there is a dichotomy to the idea because to be human is to be part of a group…to be part of a community where we recognize each other’s wants and need; where we protect and provide for each other. But to paraphrase Hamlet, here’s the rub, because being part of a group always without fail leads to some form of organize religion. And so, what do you do!

Well, we’ve come to the end of this chapter, and we’re getting closer to the end of the series…probably only another couple of chapters. Next time, we are going to go to some dark places as I show you why what happened to Sansa on the show is not out of the realms of possibility in the books. Not with Ramsay of course; and it may not be physical in nature, but more mental…like what Varamyr attempted with Thistle. However, I do think that dark days are ahead for Sansa before she sees the dawn. I can’t tell you when the next chapter will be here because I must psych myself up to go to that dark place and write it. I also have a lot upcoming in the New Year, and so it might not be for several months, but it will be come.

So what does everyone think of the theory that Jon is the Shrouded; Sansa the girl in grey; and the Unkiss tied to Jon's resurrectin.

All comments welcome. Until next time.

ETA on 12/26 to fix a few typos and grammatical errors and also to add the two recap paragraphs.

ETA 9/6/24 to fix a couple of additional typos and add a couple of highlight to passages.

[piece-of-hweat]

Little Nightmares Headcanons!!

(May change over time n stuff)

listed from youngest to eldest

RUNAWAY 9y/o

No clue, he/him

Really good at swimming (main reason why I draw him as a fish-person)

Loud, confident idiot (stares at Tommy-Innit)

Hates broccoli.

Lactose intolerant

Hates being wrong/failing

Very much a "act-before-think person"

Break dances epically

Competitive. Very competitive. (especially with Six)

Hates Six's guts

Has a collection of ships in bottles

Either Runaway or Mono are trans... I just want like... supportive brother arc please--

Plays with sticks

Knows one word in French. And it's piscine. He was the one who told Mono about the piscine joke.

Athletic

SIX - 9y/o

Aro/ace, she/it

loves ducks

Will bite (you and your belongings)

Won't scratch (she bites her nails)

Knows how to swim on the surface

Pupils are slightly slitted

Sharp canines

Growls and hisses when she’s really mad, or extremely not in the mood for anything

Had a duck and mouse plush at some point

Will tear Runaway into pieces if she could

There was a head-canon idea where Six has some form of DID, OSDD, UDD, etc. I don't really use this headcanon a lot because I myself don't have DID, so :/

Dark humor

NOONE - 10y/o

She/her

Animal lover <3

Clutches/fiddles with the ends of her clothing when nervous

Looks confused/concerned and scared 24/7

Likes drawing (probably has some animal doodles in her school books)

Listens to Mono's late night singing.

Allergic to nuts (once, at school, a group of students with pbj sandwiches "offered" Noone the sandwiches despite her declining. She was sent to the ER shortly after and was excused from school for the rest of the day and the day afterwards.)

Probably will get along with Six

Ticklish

Reads a lot

Laughs at Six's jokes.

Around the same height as Mono (taller than Raincoat)

Smartest (academically) in the group

LOW - 10-11 y/o

Bird nerd

Always liked reading comic books (especially the super-hero ones)

Percussion my beloved <3

Listens to your problems and gives you decent advice

Took up archery in school

Makes friendship bracelets

*insert epic secret handshake*

Ticklish

Probably makes music with Mono and Raincoat

Apple Juice lover

Plays with sticks

Very strategic

Probably plays chess or smth

Gamer /pos

Athletic

ALONE - 10-11 y/o

She/he

Listens to your problems and gives you… advice. Not good, not bad. Just advice.

Engineering <3 (probably would be really into those lego-machines)

Hits harder than a truck. Be careful, you might've shatter a bone.

Probably was a batter in baseball

Probably will win in a arm-wrestle against Mono.

Hits you lightly when laughing

Allergic to nuts

Apple juice lover

Doesn't talk much

G R E E N

Knows how to handle and discharge a gun properly. Do not ask her how or why she knows this. He simply does.

Person with the most amount of obscure knowledge (more people drown in freshwater than they do in saltwater. fear that creek in the forest behind your house. fear it. It will take your life one day)

Fascinated by wires and Mono's powers

Probably needs glasses

Reads a lot

MONO - 10-11y/o

Bi, He/him

Is British

Plays the violin (but it’s more like a guitar bc it’s big for him and he lost the bow)

Despite being taller than average, he walks around on his tippy toes

Barely knows how to swim (just fails around and barely stay afloat)

Dino-arms

Knows very limited amounts of Japanese and German (knows a couple of words in French, but only really remembers bonjour and piscine)

Punches hit like a truck, but it hurts Mono's hand a lot

Asthma

Very ticklish

stands awkwardly in the corner

Probably makes music with Raincoat and Low

Plays with sticks (uses them to direct magic)

Broken humor

Has negative associations with trains (doesn't like them)

RAINCOAT - 11-12 y/o

No Clue, She/her

Is Sisi

LOVES horses

Wanted to be an actress because MAKE UP, COSTUMES!! ACTING!! SINGING!! AAAAA!!

Good at cooking and baking (stares at my Bakes-Cookies-for-Otto headcanon)

Has some experience with piano and choir, but nothing else really

Bestest big sister ever

Will totally paint your nails while you ramble about something

Really likes playing with hair (another career dream she had was a hair stylist)

Will tease you (/lh)

Really pretty voice <3

Typically the one breaking conflict up

Probably makes music with Mono and Low

Reads bedtime stories to others

Around the same height as Mono (shorter than Noone)

Also, secret funky art post on youtube