#sorry to my little 13 year old cousin. i love him dearly. we don’t know for sure that he’s gay. but i know. sorry again to him

[livvyofthelake]

your cousin from florida who works in marketing (your dads age. she’s not my age) will come stay the night at your house and it will literally become Bother The Recent College Graduate About Career Prospects Night. i don’t mean to be rude but i am literally going to hide in my room for the rest of the night like peace and love but the next person who asks me what i want to do will be getting strangled

[fiveisnumber1]

Blast to the Past - A Timeless Side Piece

Here’s like a somewhat short little piece, my brain just decided to come up with this concept after a conversation with @oceanspray5 so I wrote it down. If you read it, let me know your thoughts, I’d love to hear them! Thanks ❤️

August 6th, 2043

Like most mornings, you sat around the kitchen table having breakfast with your family. Typically all of the Hargreeves siblings would be present but they had gone out for their own breakfast this morning to celebrate Vanya’s promotion as conductor of the local orchestra, leaving you, Five and your children to have breakfast without them. Your darling husband, Five, sat to your right and held your hand as he drank his morning coffee. And across the table sat your two beautiful children. You smiled as you listened to your daughter Lia detail how she and some of her cousins were going to go shopping for first day of school outfits this coming weekend. On the other hand your son, Penn, was quiet. He pushed around the meal on his plate as he looked between his food and his father. You couldn’t tell exactly what was going on in his head but you knew that it had to deal with Five. Giving Five’s hand a squeeze he looked towards you. With a slight tilt of your head you gestured towards your son just at the right time for Five to catch his eye.

“Is something wrong buddy? You’ve barely touched your breakfast.” Five questioned

Penn stayed silent as he looked at his dad. Something was wrong and it had been weighing on his mind for a while. Straightening his posture he put down his fork as he took a deep breath. The rest of the family looked on quietly as Penn turned to Five and asked,

“Hey dad, you think I can try traveling back in time a few minutes?”

Five knew this topic would come up at some point when he started trying to teach him to time travel. He was his son, so of course he’d want to do more than what were in his capabilities. It just wasn’t feasible to move up to minutes given that he barely had control of traveling for seconds. Regretfully, Five looked at his son as he answered,

“Not yet, we’ve only hit going back in time 30 seconds.”

Penn’s face dropped as disappointment spread across his face. Seeing the change in demeanor Five tried to brighten things up by adding,

 “Y’know what though, I’ll let us shoot for 45 seconds today. How about that?”

“Dad, I’ve been practicing seconds for the past 6 months, I want to do more.” Penn complained

Five looked at you and saw the concerned look on your face. Five was trying to be reasonable in terms of his son’s feelings. He knew that getting to start learning to time travel was exciting to him given that he was only able to start learning those six months ago, but excitement did not equal experience.

“Penn, I appreciate your enthusiasm but your mom and I have explained on multiple occasions how dangerous time travel can be.” Five elaborates

“It’s taken your dad years to get to the level of control he has now.”  You added

Penn could feel frustration build up inside him. He wanted to time travel in the same way his dad could. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t move up to minutes. He definitely had mastered seconds so what was the hesitation with bringing up the amount of time? Standing up from his seat he gave a pointed look as he exclaimed,

“I’m ready to make that jump! I’m not asking for years just a few minutes!”

Five was shocked at his son’s outburst. He had never seen his son this upset and even in times where it came close he still had never shown this much. He knew it would upset him, but Five was doing this for his own son’s good. Sitting up straighter, Five looked at his son.

“Penn, I’m sorry but the answer is no.” Five firmly replied “We need to start small so there are no large consequences.”

The beginnings of sparks started to fly off of Penn as a blue glow whirred around his hands. You and Lia winced at the minor disturbance Penn was causing due to his anger. Instead of saying anything more though, he jumped away from the kitchen and with a flash of blue he was gone. Wanting to help her obviously distraught brother Lia quickly stated,

“I uh...need to make a phone call...”

“Who do you need to call at 10 am?” You questioned

“Oh y’know...uh...Spiderman?” Lia replied confused before quickly adding “Anyway bye.”

And just like that your daughter had also flashed away to follow her brother. With both your children gone from the table you and Five sat in a silence. Pulling his hand from yours, Five dropped his head into his hands.

“Ugh, I feel like my father right now.” He lamented

Your heart broke at his statement. You knew that Five was nothing like his father and constantly loved and cherished your children. He would give the entire world to them if he could. Having him compare himself to that shitty excuse of a man was so saddening because you knew he was only trying to keep Penn safe. Placing a hand on his back you leaned in closer as you tried to comfort him,

“Hey, you know you’re not your father. You didn’t say no to him, just not yet.”

Five looked up from his hands and over at you, the pain in his eyes was on full display.

“I know but it’s like staring myself in the face. I got mad I couldn’t time travel like I wanted during a meal with my family and here he is doing the same.” Five elaborates

“Darling, he has wanted to time travel just like you ever since he could comprehend the subject. He wants to be just like his dad.” You try to affirm

“I just don’t want him to make the same mistakes as his dad.” Five commented looking away from you

He knew the decision was the right one but nevertheless he felt so awful not being able to make his son happy. Placing a gentle hand on his cheek you bring his gaze back to yours. Giving him a slight smile you reply,

“I know. Maybe if we just give him a few minutes to cool off everything will be okay.”

“I hope so. I hate saying no to our kids.” Five stated

Your smile widened as you brought your face closer to your husband’s. Taking on a less serious tone you commented,

“You hate saying no to anyone in this family,”

You could see a smile start to reappear on his face. Oh how he loved you so dearly. Closing the space between you two, he placed a soft kiss to your lips. Pulling back he smiled as he responded,

“Especially you, ma chérie,”

Quietly, the two of you sat back in your chairs sipping you coffee as you patiently waited for your children to come back to the table. Upstairs though Penn flashed into the living room as he paced back and forth talking to himself,

“Ugh, it’s no fair. I wan’t to time travel more than just seconds. I’m ready for minutes!”

Flashing in a second later, Lia leaned against the living room door frame as she listened to her brothers rant. Crossing her arms over her chest she commented to him,

“You know you’re lucky you even get seconds. I can’t learn time travel for another two years.”

“Thats’s because you’re 13. you’re too young.” Penn retorts “Me on the other hand, I’m 15 which means I’m old enough to learn,”

Flashing away from the door frame Lia reappears closer to her brother floating upside down in the air.

“Just because you’re old enough to learn doesn’t mean you’re smart enough to do it.” Lia remarks before sticking her tongue out

“This is none of your business you car floor french fry.” Penn replies pushing her face back

Walking away from her, Penn makes his way towards the side of the room the piano was one. Transporting herself from her molecules from her position in the air Lia appears sitting criss-cross on top of the piano. 

“It totally is my business,” Lia explains catching her brother’s attention, “You had this conversation in front of me dumbass,”

Penn rolled his eyes at his younger sister before using his powers to knock her off the piano top.

“Hey! You can’t just do that!” Lia complains 

Standing up from the floor, Lia looks towards her brother who hard turned away from her again. Watching him she had noticed that Penn had taken up a position as if he was about to take off running.

“What are you doing?” She asked

“Just leave me alone, so I can jump back in time a minute.” Penn huffed

“But dad said no.” Lia reminds

“Lia, I can do a minute. It’s just 30 seconds more, I can’t fuck up 30 extra seconds.” Penn states still not looking back

“But dad-” Lia tries to say again

Penn was done with this. Whipping around he narrowed his eyes on her as he exclaimed,

“Forget what dad said alright! I’m doing it!”

Quickly he whipped back around as he took off on a running start, blue energy starting to form around him. Trying to stop her brother, Lia flashed to him attempting to tackle him to the ground. The two of them felt as the whirring of energy stopped. Both children stood up from the ground as they brushed themselves off. Annoyed that Lia had ruined his time travel practice he angrily scolded,

“Why did you do that? Something could’ve gone wrong.”

Lia didn’t reply. All she could manage to do was stare with wide eyes and mouth agape at something behind him.

“What’s with the stupid expression?” Penn questioned

Instead of saying any words she slowly raised her hand as she just pointed to whatever she was looking at behind him. Turning around, he looked in the direction of what his sister was seeing and was met with a sight he never expected to see. A depressing portrait of a younger version of his father staring down at him from over a fireplace. With the sudden realization of what had happened slipping in all Penn could manage to say was,

“Oh fuck.”

[sparklingchan]

Prologue|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 1.2k+

Warnings : Family issues, mentions of mythological monsters, not edited.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: Two twelve year olds kids with apparently normal lives find themselves in a rather uncomfortable position when they are told the truth about their not-so-normal parentage.  

A/N : FINALLY I managed to post this!! I haven’t been feeling well lately so hope I didn’t keep anyone waiting too long. This prologue doesn’t necessarily connect with the main plot of the story but it does lay the backdrop for it so this part might come off as plain. 

Hope everyone’s been keeping well, given the current situations. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m right here!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

Lighting in the Sky

"Before the world existed, there was nothing. Only a primary void, a nothingness and ..chaos. "

Your glazed, intrigued eyes follow every word from the new book your mother reads out from, your curiosity unable to handle the wonderful way your mother always turns every story into a mystery.

The bright green cover of the book looks attractive, and smooth like glass. Instinctively, you hold your finger up to its surface.

Its cold.

" 'Famous tales from Greek Mythology ' " you read out its title, now no longer paying attention to your mother's words, "Mum, do you think the people in these stories are real?"

Your mother stops mid sentence, not really surprised when a rather familiar memory finds its way back to her. Thunderstorms, a handsome young man, rapid heartbeats, a little baby girl.

"I'd like to think so," she runs her fingers through your hair, "But not all of them are as heroic as they're made to be in these books."

You wondered what her words had meant for a long time after that. For a 12 year old girl, you'd been way too curious, way too hard to deceive. But truth is something that cannot be hidden for too long.

You remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday.

It was your 13th birthday , a joyous day for a young girl who'd always wanted to experience the so called 'exciting' teen years. Your mum had prepared an amazing celebration for you- a small picnic by the seaside, a chocolate cake (your absolute favorite), the second edition of 'Famous tales from Greek Mythology ' as a gift. It was almost perfect.

Almost.

While on your way to the parking lot, a dog pounces at you. Except it wasn't just a dog. It was a Hell Hound.

You'd only seen the likes of it before in your story books and in your nightmares that were as vivid as memories. But you know exactly what a hellhound really is. Hellhounds are dogs that guard the Underworld - world of the dead .

"Get off of me, you dog!" You scream as the monster claws at your face.

Viscious creatures and brilliant killers these dogs are and if it weren't for two boys showing up to your rescue, you are sure you'd have become the hellhound 's food that day.

"Are you okay, y/n?" The boys ask you.

"H-how do you know my name? Who are you people?" You pant, on the verge of tears, "What was that thing?"

The taller of the two boys - Hyunjin, as he would introduce himself to you later sends a look of confusion over at the shorter boy - who also introduces himself as Minho later. "We have a lot of talking to do, y/n. Where's your mom?"

Your mom is not one bit fazed when she drives the three of you back to your small apartment. It's almost as if she'd been expecting it all along.

Once you reach your house, your mom who's usually extremely cheerful and loud, sits you down quietly on the couch and tells you the truth. Of who you are, what you are capable of.

"Sweetie, your father is not the book author you think he is. I'm so sorry I lied to you. " she sucks in a deep breath, almost scared, "Honey, your dad is...a God. A Greek God. The ones we read about."

And that one sentence turns your entire world upside down. Everything you've ever known just changes.

But sometimes changes are for the best, you'd like to think.

Minho and Hyunjin reveal that they come from a place called Camp Levanter - a home for kids like you, demigods is what they're apparently called.

"A-are you like me too?"

"Yes, y/n. We're like you." Minho says, "I'm the son of the Greek God Dionysus and Hyunjin over here is the son of the Greek goddess Aphrodite."

Hyunjin pats your head ever so gently and in an alluring voice says, "Do you want to come with? We could be your friend. How does that sound?"

You find yourself nodding almost immediately.

And just before you walk out of the door, you give your mom the tightest hug, assuring her that you'd do just fine.

"By the way, mum, what's dad's name? You never told me."

You mom sighs, as the skies outside rumble with thunder, "Your father is Zeus - the God of sky and lightning. "

*

The symbol of Love

"Are we going to die tonight, Nana?"

Felix shivers into the embrace and pulls his greying, old grandmother closer, her weak body already completely corrupted by the cold and snow.

"N-not you, Lixie. You have things to do." She mumbles, holding the 13 year old kid to her chest, hoping to find some kind of warmth in this freezing cold weather, "I-its not your time yet. You will go back to your father, you hear me? You didn't have to come with me anyway!"

Felix's father wasn't the nicest person - to put it decently. He didn't so as much bat an eye towards him. Perhaps he was ashamed of having a child out of wedlock or worse, he was reminded of Felix's gorgeous mother he so dearly missed everytime he saw Felix.

Anyhow, parental love never made it into Felix's life from his father's side so instead he grew up under the warmth of his grandmother's love.

On his 13th birthday, Felix receives his first and last gift from his father; a step mother. That fall, his father marries an old colleague in a small ceremony. And Felix would later go on to hate himself for ever thinking that this new addition to the family might fill up the blank space his birth mother had left behind.

Not ten days after the wedding, his new step mother 'accuses' his grandmother of being rude and unwelcoming and begs his father to throw her out of the house.

Which all comes down to this moment, where his grandmother is freezing to death and he cannot do anything but watch silently.

"Hey, do you need help?" When Felix hears that voice, his first instinct is to brush it off as a hallucination, for who would help two homeless people in this bone chilling weather?

"Felix, do you need help?" A few rapid footsteps and two boys present themselves in front of him, panting as if they'd been running all the while.

"W-who are you?" He stutters, hugging his grandmother closer, "How do you know my name?"

One of the two boys reply gently, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Felix. How about we go to my place? Your grandmother might like a warm cup of tea, don't you think?"

And so he agrees to go with the two boys.

Once they'd warmed his Nana up and fed her, Felix gently tucks her into the bed of the guest room they'd been given. As scared as Felix was to accept their help, he knew he had no option. His grandmother meant the world to him and he couldn't watch her succumb right in front of his eyes.

The two boys are very careful in approaching Felix, making sure to not scare him more than he already is.

"What are your names? How do you know me?" They let a whole hour pass by as the three boys sit on the dining table, occupied with plates of untouched food and full bottles of water, letting Felix be the one to start conversation. And when he finally does, Changbin breathes a sigh of relief. Really, he was starving but he didn't want to seem rude in front of their new friend.

"I'm Chan," Chan introduces himself, and then Changbin speaks, "I'm Changbin. And why do we know you, you ask - well the three of us have quite a lot in common, you see. More than what meets the mortal eye."

Mortal eye? What's this all about? Felix finds himself more confused than he already was.

"We're the children of Greek gods, Felix. " Chan sighs, " You, me and Changbin. Is it hard to believe?"

Felix is about to say 'yes' out of pure impulse but he holds his tongue this time ; these guys don't seem like the kind to make such obnoxious claims, even as a joke. All his life, Felix had spent as an outcast, among his friends, among his cousins, among his classmates. His father had treated him like he were a monster. And his estranged mother who his father never said anything about? Felix finds suspicion knocking at his door.

Whilst its still extremely hard to believe, Felix responds,

"I want to believe you."

Chan and Changbin exchange a look of surprise, complete astonishment since none of them had expected Felix to even listen to them. And now that they have his attention, they find themselves a tad bit pressured as well.

"But don't disappoint me," Felix mutters, more to himself than to the boys, "Don't give me hope just to snatch it away."

And much to his surprise, he isn't left disappointed this time. These two boys manage to change his life completely, and now when Felix goes to bed at night, he finds a rather foreign feeling of fulfillment in his heart.

and for the first time in forever, he lets himself hope. Hope for a new family who would make up for the love his father could never offer. Hope for better days to come now that he's finally found a new identity and a new life.

****

Taglist: @chogiwow​@ctrlaltfangirl​@blueprint-han​@whattaweeb​@bigskzz​@judewalid​@kpopssuregi​@crispy-chan​

Note: Please DM or send an ask if you wish to be added to the taglist!

[ask-shakespearehigh]

Q&A post with the Mods!!!!

This is going to be a long one oh boy

How strict is the delineation of creative control vis-a-vis characters/plays between the mods? (@pedanticlecturer)

We generally have the plays split up along lines of “what we know”— we have a list at the very beginning of the blog. Sometimes we’ll draw the others’ characters (mostly me drawing some of Star’s…) but even then the final say on characterization is up to the “main” mod for that play — mod aster

what aster said -- mod star

What is your favorite play? What is your favorite character in terms of how they were written in the source material? (@pedanticlecturer)

I think my favorite play overall is Macbeth, just because I like the vibes (and the fact that I too could kill Macbeth), the fact that you don’t say it’s name in theatres, and the fact that it’s a play I did a full read through and analysis of in class. Favorite character? Puck from Midsummer. — mod aster

uhhhh,, hmm. ive always had a soft spot for midsummer since i saw it with aster esp bc of how fun the costumes were. of the comedies it has the largest potential to be the most visually pleasing bc of the concept of fairies,,,and im gay and dramatic so i love that. id die if i got to costume design for midsummer,,,or be in it,,,yeah. fav character. hmm. probably mercutio?? i recently saw a version of romeo and juliet where mercutio was played by a woman and oh my god it was amazing!!! not to mention mercutio’s portrayal in baz luhrmann's INCREDIBLE version of r n j!!! (I based my mercutio design on him) he just spends the entire time making dick jokes. love that. -- mod star

How do you answer asks so fast? I mean it's great but I'm impressed 😂 (Anon)

Personally, it’s a mix of: notifications on, quick drawing speed, and using the blog to avoid my class work — mod aster

aster is fast and (as you can see from all of my answers) im lazey -- mod star

Are there any elements/characters of the plays you're covering that you would have liked to work into this blog's plot, but couldn't due to the constraints of the setting or the synthetic nature of the blog? (@pedanticlecturer)

I wanted to make everyone gay but unfortunately due to plot constraints we have to have some hets but that wont stop me from making it lgbt as possible. -- mod star

I did want to make The Tempest more of a central play, but it just didn’t translate well. Similarly, other supernatural elements like the witches in Macbeth. This isn’t so much a constraint mentioned, but my own time/energy means that I want to show the Macbeth backstory, in a specific format, but I can’t right now— mod aster

Is there a hierarchy of import when it comes to each play's individualized impact on shakespeare high's general arc? If so, what plays are crucial to the foundation of the story? Which ones did you do mostly for shits and giggles? (@pedanticlecturer)

This is phrased like an ACT question and i might not answer it right so sorry in advance but: mod aster and i only selected a few plays for each of us to do given we dont know all of shakespeare’s works, but we tend to put more emphasis on the the more well known. But it also comes down to 1. How much we have plotted out for each play and 2. What the followers ask about most. Our two most popular are hamlet and macbeth bc people are familiar w those but around march caesar always becomes relevant again. I didnt even have designs for some of the characters until someone asked about them. -- mod star

I would say the same as star— it generally comes down to what people ask about. I will say that the overall plot is sort of separated into “has happened” and “is happening”. Like, the human potion of Midsummer, Julius Caesar, and Macbeth are all in the “aftermath” portion, while Twelfth Night, Hamlet, and Romeo and Juliet, among others, are happening. We’re trying to incorporate as much as we can, and I don’t think any of them were really put in without some thought.— mod aster

What personal significance does shakespeare hold in ur guys' lives? (@pedanticlecturer)

I go to a theater school rn and so ive dealt w shakespeare (although not all of them) it also helps that i was in loves labours lost last year as moth and that i read hamlet and r n j. Theres also a theater in my state that always does One Big Shakespeare per season and they always do them super well!!! My love for shakespeare probably started w seeing midsummer at that theater w mod aster!!! So. Theater kid rights!! -- mod star

To be honest, I got back into Shakespeare Because of the blog. I’ve been friends with some people that got really Pretentious about Shakespeare, and it kinda put me off of it. I did have a book of abridged plays (the plays’ plots written out in prose, basically) that I read as a kid, which is what got me into not only the plots of a lot of the plays, but also the idea of having them illustrated. And, same as star, the theater in state does the One Big Shakespeare— and they tend to do some really cool things with the costumes, setting them in diff time periods. I haven’t been able to see any lately since I’ve moved, but they still slap. — mod aster

🥰😘💙🥰🥰💜💟🥰I 😍💗💚😍😍LOVE🖤🖤 YALL ♥️♥️🧡💛💚💝❣️💕💘💖💗💓💞💝❤️💛💜 okay now i have a question i swear— how long have the two of you been doing art??? and what were your first shakespeare plays??? (@hellaghosts)

Uhh i started drawing when i was like idk 12 and i have the giant boxes of sketchbooks to prove it!!! I moved to digital art at abt 14-15 but mostly stayed traditional until this yr when i got a Neat New Tablet so some of my sketchbooks are sitting abandoned rip. My first shakespeare was either romeo and juliet or midsummer nights dream and i love both of them v much!!! I have a very old piece of art that i did for r n j for my freshman class assignment on it and it hasnt aged well alsdjfjafd circa 2016 i think??? -- mod star

Oh man. I started drawing when I was about 10, but it was Bad. I don’t think I got much into drawing again until I was about 14? Sometime around the end of middle school/beginning of high school. I would say I started getting into drawing as more than doodling/coloring edits sometime around 2015-16? I would draw on my iPad with my finger, then I got a tablet for my computer, and now I pretty much stick to my iPad with an Apple Pencil. My first Shakespeare play was….. uh…… probably Midsummer???? I have No idea. We would go to plays when I was little, so I honestly don’t remember if I saw others before. It may have been Romeo and Juliet— I had that book where it was the original and the “modernized” with the little dog that explained things— which, if you know it makes sense, but if you don’t is probably a bonkers answer. — mod aster

Do you think this blog has like? An overarching thesis (be it b/c intentionally or simply b/c ur own take on the world has bled thru to the point where u believe it’s central to the piece at this point)? (@pedanticlecturer)

Not gonna lie, I had to read that like three times AND dm you to figure out what you were asking from us and all I have is “be gay, respect women, write your own happy endings”. — mod aster

This blog started with an ides of march shitpost and you think we have enough brain energy to write a whole thesis? I projected feelings of found family onto my half of the blog but idk if that counts. Be gay do crime 420 69 -- mod star

What’s the nature/rough dynamic of ur relationship? How do y’all know each other? (@pedanticlecturer)

Met mod aster when i was like 4 and even tho we didnt live close we became like, best friends although the Best part didnt start until we were like 13-ish and eventually we talked like non stop (about anime and homestuck. Yknow. 13 year old kid things) and we didnt see each other a lot bc of Distance and now its even worse bc aster is in colleg.,e but we consider each other siblings regardless of family bc we’re adopted into our own respective families so that bled over into our friendship and it would feel weird calling him anything other than my brother now. We’ve seen each other at our best and worst and if you really want a good insight on what we’re like as siblings watch griffin and justin mcelroy’s overview video of catlateral damage wherein i am griffin and he is the long suffering justin. -- mod star

Star is basically my long distance sibling and functionally the only cousin I recognize bc like their parents are basically an aunt and uncle and like our dads look enough alike that we’ve both accidentally gotten the wrong dad for a hug or similar so like. Anyways yeah Star is the Griffin to my Justin, complete with our absent middle brother who we love dearly— mod aster

Dubiously relevant q but what kind of music do y’all listen to when u do art (if that is indeed a habit either of u partake in) (@pedanticlecturer)

It can depend on the piece? I was working on some (unrelated) oc prints that were song-focused, and for those I just listened to said song on loop. Sometimes I have playlists. Sometimes I’ll just be in a Mood and throw a song on loop. But a lot of time for the blog, I’ll listen to The Adventure Zone for the billionth time, because I have Too Much Attention. I’ve also, on request from Star, linked the most recent “loop song”.— mod aster

I tend to obsess over the same like 3 songs every few weeks so those get listened to on repeat but it also depends on the tone of what im drawing or who im drawing i might genre switch bc of that. If im drawing ophelia i stick to lana del rey and if im drawing hamlet its the neighborhood, horatio is sufjan stevens etc. i have categorized,. Most of the characters i draw into different songs/genres/energies of music but not like i ever follow that. Sometimes i just pull up a really long nonsense video and forget to draw. Essentially: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ -- mod star

How’d y’all come up with ur pseudonyms? (@pedanticlecturer)

I love space so much and my main blog is starryeydsailor space gay rights!! Im also tiny and full of energy and bright so basically i;m star -- mod star

Uhhhh i was like “hey i want to do uhhhhhh flower?” And then I google searched flower names until I found one I liked —- mod aster

How did you end up deciding the rough timeline of events in canon? (@pedanticlecturer)

It’s mostly determined by like. How we choose per story? If that makes sense. Like, we just take story by story, and decide “is it happening, has it happened, and when?” And then we fit them together in relation to each other just by dint of. All existing at once. Like, I knew I wanted Macbeth to be in aftermath, because like, even though there’s no murder, the way I’ve translated it to the AU is still kinda heavy, and it’s something that I don’t know that I could do properly if it were happening right now. Also, it’s more interesting IMO to have them at different times. Tl;dr we wing it per story and slot them together— mod aster (mod star agrees I just can word better, in theory)

If you could tell the story of shakespeare high in a different format than an ask blog, would you? Obviously y'all are making very good use of the format, but would you want to write this as a animated series or like? a comic book? or is the form inseparable from the story? (@pedanticlecturer)

I kinda wanted to do a webcomic or maybe to plot develop through like, animatics but the element of surprise comes from the asks we get and really makes us think so the blog is a good start. We didnt think we’d get this far -- mod star

Pretty much what Star said— there are certain elements where it’d be neat to do as a comic or as an animatic. Like, the fantasy dream is like, an anthology webcomic of each story, where you can like, see other characters in the background and stuff. But to be honest, we develop a lot by what we’re asked— there was a post about developing worldbuilding by being asked questions and then pretending you’ve thought about the answer, and it’s not far off. Personally, it’s hard to just lay out a story, because I have a whole WORLD and what’s relevant? What are people interested in? It’s by getting questions that I can then focus in on an area to develop. And yeah, we Super didn’t think we’d get this far lmao — mod aster

Any headcanons about your characters that you don't think will ever come up on the blog through asks or plot posts? (@pedanticlecturer)

I could make a whole separate post for this!!!!! Mostly its voice headcanons (and by mostly i mean like 1 or 2) or relationship hcs!!!! -- mod star

Honestly same. I don’t think I have voice headcanons for mine, though I bet I could find some. I’ve got a bunch of miscellaneous headcanons that just kinda float around, but like they’re scattered, too numerous for this post, and also not always things I’m sure are canon yet.— mod aster

[letitia-is-cross]

Spill out my Passions upon your Feet

JONxSANSA, Modern Royalty AU, Oneshot, 6911 words, Uses all the jonsa smut week prompts in one. Read it on AO3

Summary:

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” “No one, Rhaenys, you cannot tell her, or him, or anyone.” Oh Jon, she thought, everyone that matters, already knows.

As they grew, their feelings grew, but an impossible love tangled up in the royal families of modern day Westeros is doomed to fail, no matter how much Jon may burn for Sansa, and she may ache for him.

Dedicated to Amymel86 as she is fabulous and kind and wonderful and honestly is just a wonderful part of this fandom.

"Which one is she?"

Rhaegar crouched down next to his son, looking at the official portrait of the Royal Family of the North.

"Which one do you think she is?"

A young finger smudged the glass over the face of a little girl with grey eyes and a begrudging smile.

"That one? With the dark hair like Rhaenys?"

"No, not that one."

"The red haired one then, like her Mum."

The King of the Crownlands watched his son's small face, curious for his reaction.

"Yes that's her; your future bride. What do you think?"

Thin, 12 year old shoulders shrugged.

"Pretty I guess. Do I really have to marry her though, Father?"

Big eyes looked up into his, Rhaegar sighed, they were just like the boy's mother's.

"Yes Aegon, you do."

Jon Targaryen hurtled down the palace corridor, skipping round a corner and skidding on the marble floors.

"Rhaenys! Wait! Wait for me!"

A gleeful laugh drifted back down towards the dark haired boy, and he pushed his skinny 10 year old legs all the faster.

Rounding the last corner, his dress shoes flying across the polished staircase, he slammed into the legs of his Father.

"Jon! You're late!"

"Sorry Father, I lost track of time reading and- and Rhaenys challenged me to a race, and then I had to changed my pants because I slipped-"

Seeing the upward tick of his Father's mouth, and knowing that he wouldn't face any penalties today of all days, Jon blew out the rest of his breath and took his place beside his sister.

Jon wasn't too worried, after all, whilst it was the arrival of a Royal Family, this wasn't the state greeting and there was no one to report on his tardiness in such close company.

He was glad of his timing a minute later though, when the doors opened to the drive and he and his family stepped out just before the line of Range Rovers pulled up carrying the King in the North and his family.

Excitement thrummed through him. Whilst not directly, his Mother had been the 2nd cousin twice removed or some such relation of the King of the North, and they had grown up together. Before she had passed, his Mother would tell him such wonderful stories of the North and of the king, Ned Stark. Jon could feel himself near vibrating in anticipation of meeting the man she had spoken so fondly of and his family.

The car door opened and out stepped a man with an austere brow and straight lips, followed by a beautiful lady with long dark red hair.

Their picture of elegance was soon ruined by the spilling of three children from the back of the car. A boy around his age, with his mother's hair in riotous curls, a girl around five that looked much like him but was twisting her head every which way to take in her surroundings, and a boy around four whose hair was a reddish brown and looked to be bouncing in giddiness at the sights before him.

Jon's vision was soon stolen however, by another girl stepping out, holding a boy around two by his hand, hair brighter than her mother or her siblings held back in a French braid.

She was her mother in miniature, down to the elegant way she led her little brother over to her Mother to be held by her.

Jon quickly rattled the names of the Stark children off in his head, matching them to the portrait used to teach him their names.

Robb stood next to his father now, a grin splitting his face. Next him was the second Stark princess, Arya, the one who looked like her father and like him. Bran stark stood next to his Mother, Rickon Stark in her arms.Â

Between her parents stood Sansa Stark, first Princess of the North and- Jon didn't bother to close his gaping mouth- the prettiest girl Jon had ever seen.

Sansa giggled as Jon placed a wreath of flowers on her head, brushing a fallen petal out of her eyes.

He grinned back, folding into a sweeping bow, hands flourishing at his sides.

At the ridiculously flamboyant action, Sansa couldn't help but break into peals of gasping laughter, joined a second later with Jon's soft but hearty chuckles.

"Well, Queen of Love and Beauty, what would you have of your Knight, my service is yours."

A failure of a wink accompanied his words and Sansa laughed all the harder.

"Jon- oh gosh- Jon-"

"How rude! The lady laughs at my declaration! I am wounded to the core!" Jon clasped a hand to his chest to accompany his melodramatic teasing.

Sansa fell down on the grass clutching her stomach, soundless gasps escaping her.

Soon, Jon joined her on the well manicured lawn, laughing along as they gazed up at the branches above.

Sansa turned her head to view the boy lying next to her, giggling now and then, reminded of his antics.

Sometimes she didn't know how she had thought he was rude and didn't like her, the first time they met. Although Jon hadn't been able to speak four words in a row together to her for the first three days, which had rather upset her sensibilities. He had been verbose enough with her siblings, especially Robb and Arya, who had all become thick as thieves.

It was that, really, that had changed things.

...

Sansa wasn't silly. She wasn't stupid. And they would be the only reasons to cry about stupid sisters and brothers, and princes that didn't invite her to play.

She had been having fun with Rhaenys anyway, they had become fast friends, sharing a love of all things beautiful and bonding over brother's that could be absolutely intolerable at times, although she did love hers dearly, especially Robb, who always looked after her.

So she wouldn't have been able to play knights and dragons anyway, but still. It hurt. It hurt that they didn't ask.

It was all Jon Targaryen's fault!

He was so friendly and nice to all her siblings, he even got along with Arya, and she didn't like too many people, she had asked Robb if Jon had said he didn't like her, but Robb had just said he hadn't, though-

"Don't be silly Sansa, he definitely likes you, and if he didn't he'd get in trouble from me!"

At that, he had flexed his arm in a poor imitation of the strong men at the Northern Games, and grinning cheekily.

She had forgotten her worry that afternoon after that, but it all came rushing back now.

Sansa had been nice! She had curtsied, and said hello and smiled, and she had thought he looked very nice, she had liked his pretty eyes.

But he had just stood there, gaping like a fish, until his sister had elbowed him!

She didn't understand! Aegon was nice, he talked to her properly, Sansa couldn't help but he glad he was her betrothed, even if she hadn't seen him much, and he seemed to prefer playing with his other friends than with them, and didn't have nearly as pretty eyes as-

Well. She would give Prince Jon a piece of her mind.

Tears still welling in her eyes, Sansa stomped as gracefully as possible over to the garden where Rhaenys said Jon would likely be.

Seeing him bent over some flowers, looking ever so peaceful, Sansa stopped trying to be graceful and ran over to the boy, planting herself in front of him.

"Princess Sansa!"

Sansa took in his widening eyes and flushed face happily, thinking he had finally realised his rudeness, but would not be deterred from a proper dressing down.

"Prince Jon, if you don't like me then-then that is okay, but I want to know why!" Sansa allowed herself to stomp her foot at this point, too upset to care for being ladylike.

"What- don't like- wait-"

"Don't try and say you don't! You won't talk to me when I try, but you talk to everyone else, and you play with the others and not me and- and you didn't even ask me!"

Sansa wasn't used to not being liked, especially by people she wanted to like her. She always tried to be nice, and she couldn't think of anything she'd done to Jon.

Frustrated and embarrassed about having to confront the boy before her, the tears that had been welling, started to escape.

They jumpstarted Jon out of his shocked silence.

"Oh no! Sansa, oh don't cry, please don't cry, oh gods-"

"You shouldn't say that, it's rude to the gods," Sansa managed to interject between hasty sniffles and wiping her face.

"I'm sorry, I won't, just please, please, please don't cry. Here, have this-"

Sansa took the handkerchief with slight suspicion, not sure why he was talking to her now, and even being nice!

"I'm really sorry Princess, I didn't mean to make you think that. I was just worried- I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of you."

"What?"

"Well, you're so good at being a Princess, and you're very proper, and pretty, and polite, and I didn't want to look an idiot."

Sansa considered this in between blowing her nose.

"Here, just wait, let me, let me get something, I'll be right back, don't move!"

Sansa watched as the boy ran off to the palace backwards, shouting back as he went.

Deciding to wait she sat down. Well. That was a stupid reason not to talk to her. He just went and embarrassed her.

But he had called her pretty, so he couldn't be all bad.

She might, maybe, possibly forgive him.

Brought out of her deliberations by her name being called again, she turned to see Jon running back towards her across the lawn.

"Here, I made this for you today, but I was too scared to give it to you, that's why I didn't ask you to play too."

He placed a garland of daisies, lopsided and shedding, upon the crown of her head.

Sansa didn't know what to say, but she thought, as she tackled him with a hug, that she could, probably, definitely, forgive him after all.

...

Three years later, Jon was 13 and Sansa was 11, and they were, Sansa thought, the very best of friends.

Well of course, Rhaenys was also her best friend, but she had best friends her age as well, and her and Rhaenys talked about different things than her and Jon. It was just different.

After all, no one knew how to make Sansa laugh like Jon did. Except for maybe Robb (and Arya when they were on the same side, but she wouldn't admit that under pain of death) and he never did so with the soft gentleness of Jon.

Jon was always gentle, so very, very gentle.

Smiling fondly over at her knight, lying beside her under the blue skies and warm wind, Sansa knew what she wished for.

"I want my knight to smile more, if it pleases you. After all Sir Jon, you have such a pretty grin, I would not want to waste it."

Jon grinned at her.

"As my Lady commands."

"Why does Aegon have to marry Sansa?"

Rhaenys looked over at her littlest brother, sitting on her bed, confused eyes peering up at her.

She sighed, you'd think at 15 years old, the boy would have asked such a question before, but it had never really been an issue, before this year.

"Is this about Sansa not being able to spend time with you as much this year? I know you've already had an argument with her about it, so don't lie and deny it!"

Jon's naturally brooding face grew even more brooding.

"...maybe."

Rhaenys gave an even bigger sigh, gods, why did she have to put up with such idiots, really.

"Aegon shall be king, little brother, and Sansa shall be queen. That is why they must marry. The insult and harm done to the North in the past century, partly by our grandfather, can only be mended by the sharing of power that a betrothal would achieve. The treaty was made so that it was ensured a Northerner would have say in the treatment of their homeland, sharing the throne is the only way to ensure this.

"Aegon and Sansa must marry because they are the first to fulfil the requirements of the treaty, Jon. They are, unfortunately, in this situation, the sacrificial goats."

"But-but, why not have you marry one of the Stark boys! You are eldest, and first in line to the throne!"

Rhaenys shook her head, Jon knew these facts already, knew the answers to his questions, but he refused to think it all through.

"It is how the treaty sets out the balance of power Jon, you know this. A Queen married to a King has more power than a prince consort married to a Queen, and besides, the agreement was set out before the rites of inheritance were changed. I certainly am more than glad to relinquish my rights to the crown and I also would rather not marry any man."

At this, Jon let out a begrudging chuckle, but his eyes still frowned and his lips were tinged melancholy.

"Jon, listen. Go and find Sansa, apologise to her and then run amok with her as you always have. Treasure the time you do have together, rather than mourn what you do not."

"Are you... wearing... a dress?"

"So you have spotted the change, my dear third-cousin-of-my-father's-brother's-mother-in-law!"

Robb slung an arm around Jon's neck as he joined him and Arya in their corner of the ballroom.

Jon rolled his eyes exasperatedly at his fellow prince, whose commitment to his long-standing joke of giving Jon the most ridiculous relation possible was going on 6 years.

Turning back to Arya, he asked once again, "Are you actually wearing a dress? You've never worn a dress, you hate dresses, what did your Mother possibly blackmail you with to get you to wear a dress?"

And it was not as ridiculous question as it sounded. Arya's hatred of dresses had become legendary throughout all the royal families of Westeros. Not once had she worn one to a state dinner or ball. Not. Once.

But tonight, she had on a dark green, almost black creation that sat high on her neck, leaving her arms sleeveless, and was form fitting except from where it swept out from the base of her waist. In... a... skirt?

The dress looked wonderful, no doubt of that, and Jon noted absently that Prince Gendry Baratheon was making no secret of the glances he sent Arya's way every few minutes. It somehow made it look like Arya was nearing tall, or at least not short, as she admittedly was.

"Wait! Don't! I want to say it!" Arya huffed and rolled her eyes but let her older brother interject once more.

He coughed regally before saying in a voice almost too pompous to bear, "It is an 'elongating wide-legged silhouetted jumpsuit'."

"Uh. A what?"

Jon thought Arya might strain herself with the force of her eye rolling at him this time.

"It's a jumpsuit you idiot, but it's wide legged, so it looks like a skirt."

"Ahhh, I understand now. Yup, well. It looks great, where did you get it?"

At this, Arya actually smiled fondly, her lips quirking up in a soft smirk.

"Silly Sansa made it for me actually. She found out that I, well that I," and here Arya blushed, "that I wanted to look good tonight. Like a girl. Pretty. I wanted to look pretty.

"She didn't tell me, she just put it on my bed the other night and let me find it. I thought it was a dress too, almost didn't try it on. But I did, and Jon, it's so comfy! And I can still run! And there's no weird breezes, and I'm not worrying about looking stupid and it fits so well. And it's well, it's perfect."

Jon could hardly believe his ears. Arya, whose praise was usually around two syllables long on a generous day, was gushing. Gushing.

"Yup, good old Sansa, she came through for you, little sister," and with a push that had her glaring at him, Robb spurred Arya over towards the Stormlands contingent with a wink. "Go impress Prince Charming now, and thank Sansa when you do!"

Jon was mostly otherwise occupied when Robb started talking to him again after that though, sweeping his gaze around to find Sansa, wondering if she had seen their little gathering take place.

Finally he caught sight of her, and whilst he registered a brief feeling of discomfort in his stomach at seeing her in the arms of some Reach lord, he could only admire the radiant smile on her face as she watched her sister punch Gendry Baratheon on the shoulder after he whispered something in her ear as they danced.

Watching her, watching them, so kind, so sweet, so Sansa- Jon felt something within him give way.

Gods, she was just so- Sansa.

"Sansa, if you could be anything, anything but what and who we are, who would you be?"

"A florist. Or a jeweller. Maybe a fashion designer. Or a historian. But probably a florist."

Jon hummed, pushing a stray hair behind Sansa's ear as she sat before him mending a rip in his favourite sweater. Of course he could afford another one with the blink of his eye, but he could never turn down Sansa when she asked to fix something, to care for him.

"Why a florist?"

Jon could see her as one though, surrounded by beautiful, natural, flowering creatures all day. Just like her. Quickly he tucked that sort of thought away, even though admiring Sansa had been part of his makeup since he first met her.

He could hardly stop himself now.

"Flowers can mean so much. And I'm not just talking about the language of flowers, I mean, what flowers mean to the people that give them, that receive them."

Giving up on looking anywhere else, Jon lay back, resting his head on her lap whilst stretching his legs out before him on the grass.

"How so?"

Sansa finally put down his sweater and focused on him; Jon smothered the cheer that went up inside of him at having her undivided attention.

"Well a lover can give flowers because they want to romance someone, because they want to seduce someone, or they could do it merely because the flower reminded them of how beautiful their love is, to brighten their day, to just say, I love you. And flowers can be a thank you, for loving me, yes, but for caring for me, for being with me, for standing by me. And they can be a celebration, a memory or a mourning all at once."

"A memory. Like you and me, and your wreath?"

Jon held his breath, cursing at himself for suggesting such a thing, unsure if he wanted her to admit the flowers meant the same to her as they did to him.

But then Sansa smiled that gorgeous tender thing, that Jon had only ever seen in this glade, this little patch of garden that was theirs. And in that moment, he felt the restlessness that crawled along his shoulders every time he was near her lately, that had plagued him since he realised Sansa was becoming a woman, settle.

And in that moment, Jon felt at once laid open to every eye that thought to look, and as though the world was at his fingertips.

"Yes, Jon. Like you and me."

"Jon- Jon! You need to calm down. Please, calm down-"

"How, Sansa?! How am I meant to calm down when he goes and pulls shit like that! As if he doesn't know he insults you every time he-"

"Jon. Calm. Down. Now."

Sansa was pleased to see Jon snap his mouth shut at her firm tone, glad that after twelve years of friendship she still had the upper hand.

She was less glad that he proceeded to kick a chair halfway across the room.

As soon as he did it though, Sansa could see his eyes widen and him quickly turn to her, hands out placating and eyes wide and gorgeous, hoping he hadn't scared her.

"Shh, I'm fine. It's fine Jon, I'm used to it."

As soon as she said it she knew her words would have the opposite effect to her intention.

He blew up again.

"But that's it! You shouldn't have to used to it! There shouldn't be an it in the first place. He shouldn't ever even bloody look at another woman! He's got the best one bloody well promised to him since birth but the fucker still feels the need to fuck around?"

Sansa could see Jon's shoulders shaking in his fury, felt the tremble in his chest as she placed a hand over his heart. She couldn't help the swelling in her own chest at his words, stamped down the melting of her legs and the porcelain smile trying to break across her face.

"Jon you know as well as I, that what Aegon feels for me, or I for Aegon, is inconsequential. If he wishes to have his flings, why should I stop him. As long as they do not continue when we are married-"

"If he dared-" Jon snarled out his words, obviously too angry to finish.

"He will not. Do not worry for me Jon. I will be fine. I am strong."

"Aye," and finally Jon let his grimace fall to a fond stare, "that you are. You really are strong."

"Good. Now stop being jealous," Jon spluttered but couldn't get a denial out in time, "and come read to me, I'm rather cold and could do with company on the sofa, and I do so love your Mr. Darcy impression."

And as always, Jon grinned.

"As my Lady commands."

"Sansa?"

Jon could see her hastily wiping away tears, using the sleaves of her dressing gown instead of the handkerchief she always seemed to have at the ready.

She turned a bright smile over to him, trying to hide the redness of her eyes behind the brilliance of her grin.

As per usual though, it didn't work on him.

Two steps later and she was in his arms, hoisted onto his lap, safely entrenched on the padded bench placed on the private balcony.

Her sobs renewed about two seconds after that.

"Hush, sweetling, shhh, oh my sweet Sansa."

They only came harder.

Jon cradled her closer and kissed her forehead.

They didn't move for the rest of the night.

"Jon, are you a virgin?"

Jon hadn't known his face could feel so hot until that moment.

"Wh-wha-what?"

"A virgin. Are you one?"

"Sansa, I'm 24!"

"So, plenty of people, especially people like us, don't have sex until they're married still. Or just later on."

Absolutely flabbergasted, Jon stood stock still with his mouth dropped open. That still seemed to happen quite often around Sansa.

Walking up to him she closed his mouth with her fingertips on his chin and a cheeky little smirk curling on her lips and in her eyes.

"Well?"

"Why?! Why all of a sudden do you want to know?"

"Uh uh, don't try to distract me, young Jon-"

"I'm older than you!"

"-I want my answer! Come on, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Jon suddenly felt much more eager to spill the beans, if only to torture himself with the knowledge of whatever lucky bastard had claimed such a title. Absolute cunt, he was sure.

"Ygritte."

Fuck, he hadn't meant to blurt that out.

"Ygritte?! The ambassador from North of the Wall, that visited a couple of years ago?! Her?!"

Jon couldn't tell beyond his hope that her anger was driven by jealousy, but Sansa seemed rather upset by this information.

"Yeah, but it didn't last or anything. She headed back North, and I stayed here of course. It was just a fling.

"Anyway, who was yours?"

"Aegon."

An increasingly familiar boiling fever swept over Jon at his brother's name.

He loved his brother, he did. Half siblings or not, Aegon and Rhaenys would always be his true brother and sister. But there was only so much jealousy and resentment of a gift left unappreciated that one could stand before it festered.

"Really?"

Suddenly all of Sansa's bravado had disappeared, and Jon watched as she hugged her arms to herself.

"Yes. He was my first. There have been a couple others, very discreet, private things. Sandor, and Dickon. But Aegon was the first. And soon he'll be the only, the last."

And then it was quiet. Sansa sat with her arms tight around herself, eyes glued straight ahead. And Jon sat with his elbows on his knees, palms pressing into his eyes, trying desperately not to let the heat of his anger, at the world, his father, her father, and everyone before and here and now and future, overtake him.

And there they sat. Together.

"Why do you torture yourself like this?"

"No one, Rhaenys, you cannot tell her, or him, or anyone."

She could feel her heart breaking for her brother, not so little any more.

She stood over him, holding the ripped out front page of the Kings Landing Telegraph.

Couple of the Century, Princess Sansa and Prince Aegon once again steal the show on a series of romantic public outings.

"Please Rhaenys. Please. No one can know."

Oh Jon, she thought, everyone that matters, already knows.

She wondered if it was cruel of her, loving that he could not take his eyes off her.

Rejoicing in his dropped mouth and wide eyes.

Looking as he did in his black evening suit, with his hair pulled back into the most enticing man bun she had ever seen- she could only think he deserved it.

She had chosen the gown, silver and form fitting and showing enough skin to tantalise, but not enough to shock. Though he certainly looked shocked, she giggled to herself.

Tonight marked the beginning of the end after all.

Her Engagement Ball was taking place, and everyone and anyone was there to celebrate.

One year. She had one year.

Suddenly feeling too hot, too close, too fast, too soon- she stepped out onto the shadowed balcony alcove along the servant's corridor.

She had found the most effective way to deal with her upcoming marriage was to not think of it at all. But that proved rather hard when she was standing there, supposedly celebrating it.

She heard a figure slide onto the balcony behind her, and she turned with a practiced smile at the ready.

And she dropped it as soon as she saw who it was.

"Jon." And she couldn't help the smile that broke across her face at seeing him.

And then she saw something break in him.

The next moment she was back against the balcony, two arms caging her in and a solid (gods, so solid) body standing guard at her front.

"Sansa, you look. Gods- you look straight out of my dreams."

His head came forward to rest right in front of her, their eyes burning into one another. She could feel her breath growing laboured, felt the heat pouring off his body, so close but so far from hers.

He was devouring her with his eyes, more open than he had ever been before, desperate in his gaze and heavy with his breathing.

"Please, Gods please. Sansa."

He was begging, but he wasn't begging her, she knew that.

She would beg the gods too, if she felt she could talk in that moment.

Instead she felt her knees wobble beneath her silver dress, and strong hands give up their stony grip to hold her with gentle care.

So gentle. He was so, so gentle.

He pressed them together, temple to temple, and she could hear his heart beat, felt each ragged breath and knew hers matched. That she too could only savour, could only dream.

"Jon? Sansa?"

They didn't jump apart, they didn't even move.

She could tell they were both wondering what would happen if they just never let go.

Finally, the head and body of the King in the North came through the alcove curtain, stopping short at the sight of their embrace.

"Sansa?"

She knew in that moment that if she held on, Jon would never let go, he would hold on to her through everything.

But she also knew that everything had consequences. So many consequences, for so many that she cared for.

She let go.

"I'd be a carpenter."

"What?"

"I'd be a carpenter, or an electrician. I'd have a small business. With a few employees that were more friends than co workers."

Jon broke off another piece of lemon cake and popped it into her mouth, if only to stop her questions.

She had pulled away that night, and he understood. But he, he couldn't hide anymore. Not to her anyway. He knew that she saw the feelings that infused his every move, his every moment.

He admitted it. He wanted her to break too.

He didn't want her to hide anymore either.

"I'd go to work everyday, and I'd make sure that I had roses and daisies planted in my garden at home. Sometimes I'd get home before my wife. And then I'd stop and make her a wreath of flowers, even though, as a florist she would've been around them all day.

"When she got home I'd meet her outside the front door, put her wreath on and carry her through the doorway, just like newlyweds. Because I know I'd feel like a newlywed everyday.

He could see the tears starting to pool in Sansa's eyes and he gave her more lemon cake and continued rambling.

"I'd build her things. Shelves for her favourite books, like Austen and I'd read them to her, over and over as many times as she liked. I'd make her chairs to sit in when she was carrying our child, and a stool to put her feet on so I could rub them.

"I'd help her with her flower shop, and make sure she knew my flowers always had meaning. That they always carried memories. We'd go for a walk to the local bakery in the mornings and buy lemon cakes and apple scrolls and finish them before we got back home.

"I'd be a carpenter and I would make her tables to put vases and vases of flowers in. You could have a room for your sewing, and a garden for your shop, and we could sit in it, and make love under the stars on a blanket in our garden.

"I would make love to you every moment I could, after work, before work, during work, on the weekends, or during our daughter's naptime, when we find a moment to ourselves-"

And he knows he's crying and she's crying but now oh gods now-

Sansa's kissing him, she's kissing him and it's everything he ever dreamed it could be.

And then his hands are on her cheek and in her hair, and one of hers is grasping his shirt on his chest and one is pulling on his curls, and his tongue's in her mouth, running along the roof of her mouth, twisting against her tongue, and then she does this thing with her tongue- and he's gone, a hand on her hip now, pulling her so close he can't tell where her heat ends and his begins.

Both hands to her gods damned beautiful arse then, lifting her up and -ugh, fuck, her legs wrapped around him are where they're meant to be, always, he swears.

There's a fire raging through him but she's caught as well, and he knows that they'll fall to ash together. That's all that matters now.

But he has to taste more of her, has to, now.

Breaking away from her mouth is the hardest thing he's ever done but the taste of her throat and chest and oh gods fuck the taste of her breasts is a very good distraction. She moans above him, hips bucking and writhing, and head thrown back, gasps and glorious sounds pouring unending from her swollen lips.

He disconnects for the ten seconds it takes for them both to undress and he has her on the table now, the left over lemon cakes thrown to the floor in haste and desperation.

"Gods Sansa, so long... dreamed, so fucking long..."

"I know... me... me too... ugh-please, please Jon..."

Her begging may have just about ended him but so had the view of her glorious body, only a part of what makes her his Sansa, but still so beautiful and a part of her just as worthy of being worshiped as her dreams and her mind.

Nipples the same shade as her lips almost call to him and he's latched on before he even processes the thought, hands eagerly searching out the other place that can make her moan for him, gods but she is moaning for him.

Fingers dip into a pool of wetness and he cannot resist, it would be futile to try.

Rushing as much as he dares, because he will savour this, fuck the gods he will savour this moment to cradle to his soul for the rest of his life, he kisses his way down her stomach. He leaves marks in his wake, just as he did on her throat and breast.

Maybe he shouldn't but he needs to know that there will be proof, even if it isn't eternal, but he needs there to be some proof tomorrow that this happened.

Reaching her cunt, he pauses to breathe her in, musk and salt and arousal, before licking a stipe from the bottom of her slit to her clit, sitting swollen, pink and perfect and the crown of her mound.

Sansa lets out a breathy scream and Jon doesn't think he's been prouder in his entire life.

He sinks his tongue into her first, getting a deep and devouring taste of her, memorising it for every night, every day in the future. Nothing will ever taste as good as her in this moment.

His name has turned into moans and screams on her lips as he moves up to brush the tip of his tongue across her clit, delighting in the buck of her hips and the thrust of her cunt into his face.

Fingers now, in and out and his mouth and tongue sucking and swiping, and his name is still on her tongue but she's trembling and she's so gods damn tight he can barely breathe for the picture she makes, enraptured in her pleasure.

She comes and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Then she's clawing at his back, bring him up to lay on top of her and she says

"Please, Jon. Please. I need you."

And he could never resist her after all.

When he finally sinks into her, it's the best moment of his life, and the worst as well. Because he knows, nothing will ever, ever compare to being joined to her. To Sansa.

He had always imagined their first joining a furious burst of passion, ending gloriously but quickly with short pounding strokes.

They make love for the first time on the table on his room, forbidden and star crossed they are, he takes his time, and he will know every inch of her body by the time he is through.

He draws out slow and steady, letting her feel him, feeling her in return. She's so hot, so tight, so fucking, fucking wet they make obscene sounds every time he moves within her.

It only makes him go slower.

He loves it, loves hearing her desire, loves feeling how wet he's made her, and soon he's gently circling her clit, still moving his hips with aching slowness. But then she's coming, gasping and grasping at his shoulders and teeth biting where his neck meets his shoulder.

He wants to close his eyes, it feels so fucking good, but she's so gorgeous, coming on his cock for him, he can't bring himself to ever take them off her again.

And then he's speeding up, lifting her legs up and over his shoulders, kissing her, kissing her, fucking so bloody deep into her he can't- he can't-

He comes as she clenches around him again, her own fingers on her clit this time and still, even as his vision goes white from the feel of his come shooting into her tight, slick warmth, knowing on a primal and deeply satisfying level that she has him inside of her now, he cannot take his eyes of her gorgeous face.

Her beautiful, beautiful face.

"I love you."

His cock's still inside her, they're naked on his side table, and she's engaged to his brother.

There's never been a more perfect moment.

Her hand reaches up and cups his cheek so loving and warm, he can't help but lean in and kiss it.

"I know," and tears are in their eyes again, he sees them in hers and feels them in his, "I love you too."

And then the door slams open.

"Oh Gods!"

"Fuck, what the fuck!"

"Ah, little brother."

Jon thinks everything may have ended.

Ten minutes after the most amazing moment of her life, Sansa is wrapped in Jon's dressing gown, sitting on a bed, and wondering what will happen now.

Jon and Aegon are standing before her, and she doesn't think she's ever been as tense as she is in this moment.

"Aegon. I love Sansa, she loves me and I cannot, will not let you marry her."

Half of Sansa agrees with Jon's stance, half cannot fear what will happen, all of her loves him even more for his words.

"I know."

"I'm sorry for keeping- wait, what?"

Sansa cannot help but agree. What?

"It's not like you didn't make it obvious, you are both rather poor actors, anyone who knew you knew you were in love from the day you met. Honestly."

Aegon is at this point picking his fingernails with a shit eating grin on his face, Sansa knows her fiancé is not a bad person, she knows him, but she cannot help but fear that expression.

"Do not worry little brother dear, and my dear Sansa, I'll not say a word, but you have to promise me to do me a favour in the morning."

Jon and Sansa exchange glances, but cannot think of anything he would make them do that he could not achieve by simply telling the truth now.

"What would you have us do?" Sansa enters the conversation for the first time, ignoring the wobble in her voice.

"Ah that, you'll find out in the morning. Don't worry, you won't be able to miss it."

Morning comes, and Jon fears for his future.

It turns out that Rhaenys is the one to break the news.

Sansa is still in his room after last night, they decided if it was to be their final and only night together, they would make the most of it at least.

She bursts in, paper in hand, slippers and dressing gown still on.

She stops suddenly, taking in the picture of the two of them, Jon curled protectively around Sansa, their faces ready and braced for their penalties.

She lets out a great bellow of laughter, and is soon wiping tears from her eyes.

"That's why the great idiot decided to do it today, a month early, idiot man. Poor things, he probably had you worrying the night away,"� she giggles, "though you were probably too busy doing other things to wile the night away."

"Rhaenys, what's going on? What do you mean?"

"Here, you lovesick idiots in love, read this, and brace yourselves, there might not be an easy ride ahead."

Jon grabs the paper out of her outstretched arm and he and Sansa sit up to read it together, headless of their nudity.

CROWN PRINCE AEGON TO ABDICATE TO MARRY SECRET LOVE, ACTRESS MARGAERY TYRELL. PRINCE JON TARGARYEN TO TAKE HIS PLACE AS KING AND BETROTHED TO PRINCESS SANSA STARK.

The headline is huge and accompanied by a photo of Aegon at what is obviously a press conference.

"We all agreed that you would rule better than Aegon anyway, he himself included, and he and Margaery really do seem to be in some sort of love. I think."

With that, she up and left the room.

Jon looked over to Sansa, feeling as though someone had just hit him upside the head with a war hammer.

But this meant- this meant-

"Will you marry me?"

Once again, his words come out before he can think them.

Her lips come up to meld with his and he feels tears upon her cheeks once more.

"Yes, my knight, I will marry you. Yes, yes, yes, yes."

Every acceptance is accompanied by a kiss and Jon is air, he is light, he is the taste of her lips and the love in her eyes.

He is Sansa's. And she is his.

And their next kiss, it is gentle.

So, so, very, very gentle.

[roseamongroses]

Antithesis: “a babe, a snack, a f-cking heart attack”

[Specific-Summary]:  They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn't mean it'll always hurt, nor does it mean they can't have fun along the way. It's senior year. Everything may be different. It won't be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking, 

[Tags/mood:] highschool au,  fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)(16) (17) (18) (19)

(20) (21)

D: [Picture of Roman and Logan cuddling asleep. Jpeg] Aw what a lovely couple

R: s h ut u p sh ut u p

D: Hey you were the one who said it was ok to make fun of your crush

R: I SAID THERE WAS NOTHING TO MAKE FUN OF BECAUSE I DIDNT AND DONT HAVE A CRUSH

R: ok i might have said to not bring it up to his face again but that was not an admission of anything deeper then standard thirst ok

R: deeeee yyou’re not responding and your silence wont make me talk

D: Oh I was getting the evidence

[Screenshot. Jpeg]

D: Huh… That seems pretty soft and gay for “standard thirst” don’t you think?

R:....

R: YOU MENTION SOMEONES CHUBBY CHEEKS ONCE. ONCE.

D: It was more then once {Screenshot Montage. jpeg]

R: he has a lovely smile ok!!! And all those dimples and his moles byg od!!!i can appreciate friends!!!

D: and I have beautiful piano hands you think were sculpted from the finest porcelain and should be protected but alright just a friendly friend thing to constantly be thinking about

R: why must youl punish me for speaking the truth????

D: it's apart of the job <3

D: but yeah we all know you dont have a hand fetish or a smile fetish you were just raised on a diet of shakesphere and disney

R: you know,,, boyfs usually don’t yah know e nc oura ge this HYPOTHETICAL behavior

D: I mean if it was someone like Remy then yeah I’d have some issues D: But it’s L so it’s all good

R: remy isnt that bad!!! yall be petty!!!

D: That’s Why We’d Have Issues D: If I have to share I’d at least liked to enjoy the other person’s company

R: thats almost sweet

D: I try

R: speaking of trying… this weekend?? you free???

D: If this has anything to do with a birthday present I Dont Want then I’m suddenly busy with homework

R: lies lies lies lies lieeeeeessssss you barely do homework

D: ;)

R: but really i told you im not getting you a physical gift but we can still go on a date!!!

D: mm sounds like you treating me and thats Illegal and suspicious

R: nope! I want a date! It's entirely for selfish reasons!!!no selflessness here!!! And if we just so happen to end up at one of those stuffy art museums you like or a book signing or two then well dang i guess???

D: what are you planning

R: it's a date!!a cute little date k!!! So you down?

D: Perhaps

R: yee boy

D: If you drive me there <3

R: SLIMY

D: Snakes do not have slime ™

R: yet here we are

D: So?

R:alrigh fuckin bet lets do it

D: Wai D: t wha

---

“Happy birthday!” Roman cheered, crashing into Dmitri.

Without looking up, Dmitri easily caught Roman in his arms, “My birthday isn’t for two weeks,” he sighed, his exasperation being melted as Roman nuzzled him further.

“Mmm shut up,” Roman dragged Dmitri behind him in the parking lot, the school bell ringing, “We had a deal so stop pouting,” he said, sing-song.

“It’s not a pou...Then why are we going to my car,” Dmitri said, expression souring and no it wasn’t a pout, he does not pout--

“Because, ” Roman said, expression sly in the way that always made Dmitri’s stomach flip, “You’re a babe, and I love you dearly, but Virgil’s car is his baby and some lines aren’t meant to be crossed.”

“Uh,” Dmitri ignored his blush, “Noted.”

-

“I’m surprisingly in one piece,” Dmitri said as they got out, “With all those cute faces you make when concentrating it was a wonder I got out alive.”

“Shut up!” Roman shoved him lightly.

Dmitri caught his hand swinging it between them, “Where are we anyway?” he vaguely recognized the park.

It was one of the smaller ones around, with it’s old, weathered playground blending almost seamlessly with the unruly trees. The discarded toys and cracked pavements so achingly familiar that he had to second guess whether or not he actually could hear children laughing.

Roman looked up at him, lips quirked, “Don’t you remember? It’s where we first met,”

“But we met in 8th--” he stopped as something clicked, his hand drifting to his scar automatically, “Huh, church camp?” he looked at Roman curiously, “There were a dangerously high amount of kids who went there, how did you even know me?”

“We were...always the last kids picked up,” Roman said, "Virgil and I always had each other or Remy to keep each other company, but you…” he got a faraway look and he rubbed his arms self consciously, “You always looked so... lonely...I guess I never really forgot.”

Dmitri sighed pushing a stray curl from Roman’s face, “You’re so sappy,” Dmitri murmured with a fond look, effectively pulling Roman back down to earth.

He didn't bother to linger on the memories for too long, instead pulling Roman along gently, “Let’s see if those rusty swings still work, eh?”

----

“Stop fidgeting,” Roman whined, the flower crown falling limp in Dmitri’s hair. Dmitri continued to ignore his request, choosing to press his face into Roman’s stomach, much to their distress.

“How do you expect me to just ignore such a fuckin’ snack?” Dmitri said, muffled in Roman’s skin.

Sure the ground pressed into him at an uncomfortable angle, but Dmitri had the important job of figuring out if that was a new freckle he spotted. He planned on being thorough. Roman eventually relented to the very important investigation, dandelions falling to the wayside as Dmitri shifted him onto his back.

Even when Roman managed to reluctantly bat him away, Dmitri still looked mighty pleased with his new spot between Roman’s thighs.

“Having fun?” Roma drawled, resigned.

“Always,” Dmitri’s immediately said. He cupped Roman’s face, hair falling in waves around them as he leaned down.

“Mmm,” Roman hummed, the air warm, “Do you want your real birthday gift now?”

Dmitri’s eyes narrowed, “Roman…” he said, warningly.

“Hush,” Roman said, no whine in his tone. Instead, it was of calm reassurance, “I didn’t buy you anything. I just got a bit nosy…”

“What do you…”

“I talked to a few old friends who knew Emile--”

Dmitri stiffed, pulling back, “-- he left without a word, he fucking hates--this town.”

“Dmitri, let me finish,” Roman said softly, slipping a hand on their shoulder and sitting up, “I asked a few of his old friends, got in touch with him,” he explained, “He’s living with a few cousins in California, he’s doing well...and...and I asked him about you…”

“He fucking hates me.”

“No, he misses you.”

----

Dmitri slid into the driver’s seat before Roman could protest and soon enough they were driving back in silence.

It had been a long time since it’s been this...awkward between the two. Sure they have their quiet moments, but it was never like this…. Roman had never done well with silence, even if Dmitri seemed to thrive in it.

Roman twisted his hands, forcing himself to speak, “Dee...I’m sorry if I overstepped your boundaries. I know it’s a sensitive subject,” he said.

Dmitri’s remained intently focused on the road, “You were being thoughtful, a prince as always,” he said with a smile.

That smile.

You know the one.

“That’s some god-awful bullshit,” Roman said, “You're angry.”

“Not at you,” Dmitri said, far too quickly.

“It’d be okay if you were,” Roman said and Dmitri’s face faltered, “As much as you claim me to be faultless, that little conversation about boundaries applies to me as well. It’s your birthday gift, so it’s your choice what to do from here.”

“Does this...gift have a receipt…”

“It can if you want it to.”

“And if I…” Dmitri's voice cracked, but he continued, “If I don’t want it to…”

“I have his new number and you have all the time in the world. Don’t stress about it he’ll understand.”

Dmitri wanted to think Roman was lying. God, he wanted it to be a lie because the truth curled in his mouth like a foul aftertaste. It rose in him and consumed him completely.

He was afraid, so fucking-goddamn afraid.

He saved the number regardless.

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al