#visit the artist please i cannot say this enough

[ninamodaffari]

Amazing commission by @ahfol of my tiefling warlock, Yuri Galkin, and his pet Hellrat, Igor.

[jobean12-blog]

Under Your Skin

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader (Tattoo!Artist!Eddie AU)

Word Count: 2,913

Summary: You and Eddie have been friends for some time but you still haven’t been in to visit him at work but you finally get up the nerve to do it and maybe even to do something even more exciting...and then some. 

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to write his AU with Eddie for a while and I cannot thank my lovely friends enough for all their insight into the world @sillyrabbit81 @mrsmischief209 @ysmmsy @buckysdollforlife @blizzspeaks This is for my sweet Jen’s @late-to-the-party-81 1k Follower Celebration and Challenge Yourself Challenge! This is the first time I’m doing this AU so it seemed like the perfect push! Thank you for hosting love and congratulations on a much deserved and amazing milestone! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by @wannabehamlet thank you darling so much! 🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty tension and fluff :) 

GIF NOT MINE: Creidt goes to @barnesdjarin thank you sweets 🥰

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Your hand is clammy as it closes around the handle of the door and you give it a pull that’s too hard, the motion making you jerk back unexpectedly.

You crash into Robin with a muttered apology and step inside. A little bell over the door chimes and indicates your arrival. You take a deep breath and survey the shop.

The first thing you notice is the clean and sanitary smell. That, and the fact that the colorful paint on the walls is barely visible under all the artwork, photos and records that lines them.

“Wow,” you whisper in awe, taking it all in.

“Now that’s what I like to hear when people walk into my shop.”

Your attention is momentarily drawn away from the decorative walls when you hear the sound of his voice.

“Hello ladies,” he croons before his gaze settles on you. “So glad you finally made it in to see me.”  

You stop and stare, a new kind of nervousness making your heart skip a beat.  

It’s the first time you’re visiting Eddie at his new Tattoo shop and you’re already in love.

“Hi Eddie,” Robin says, elbowing you.

“Oh!” you squeak. “Hey Eddie.”

“So, what can I do for you?”

“We want a tattoo,” Robin says with a bright smile. She then points at you and says, “well, she does.”

His eyes are trained on you as they sweep down your body and back up to your face.

“This is your first one right?” he asks with a wink.

“Yes,” you declare and dip your head.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.”

He moves closer and rests a gentle hand on your lower back, ushering you forward.  

“Not gonna lie, I’m really fucking excited you’re here,” he says quietly, his lips just barely brushing your ear.

You shiver in response and turn your head, your faces only inches apart.

“I’m nervous,” you blurt out, your breath catching in your throat when his eyes drop to your lips.

“You’re in good hands,” he murmurs, sliding his fingers up your back before he motions for you to sit on the couch.

Robin joins you, grinning as she looks at the shop walls.

“Are these pictures of your band?” Robin asks.

“That’s us. Corroded Coffin,” he answers with a pleased smile while he rummages through supplies on the table.

“I like your guitar,” you say as you study one picture in particular.

“Thanks. She’s a beauty right?”

You nod and continue to look around. Without thinking you get up and start to move about the shop, noticing that some of the artwork is signed with Eddie’s name.

“Your artwork is amazing,” you point out.

“Thanks,” Eddie answers. “Wait until you see your tattoo.”

He waggles his eyebrows and sticks out his tongue, his silly face making you laugh and easing some of your anxieties.

“So, I sorta have an idea, but I don’t really have a solid idea. I kind of know what I want but at the same time I don’t have a clear picture and I’m nervous it will hurt and…”

Eddie gives you a soft smile as your words trail off and you shuffle your feet. You can hear Robins pained groan but you keep your eyes on him.

“I can help you bring your idea to life; you just tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll make it happen.”

“Really? It’s that easy?” you ask, your tone disbelieving.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he tells you. “Like I said, you’re in good hands with me sweetheart.”

You audibly swallow and will your heart rate to slow down.  

“Give me a minute. I was just finishing some paperwork when you came in,” he says.

He walks to the back of the shop and disappears behind a door. You swing around and look at Robin with wide eyes.

“He’s too hot,” you whisper shout. “I can’t let him give me a tattoo! This is too much.”  

“Oh don’t be such a dingus!” she answers, throwing her hands up. “And why can’t you!? You heard him. He’s talented and you’re in good hands.”

“His hands…” you nearly whine, rubbing your own over your face. “The rings…I’m not gonna make it.”

She smirks with a sparkle in her eye and you blow out an exaggerated raspberry.

“I’ve been here less than five minutes and I’m already making a fool of myself and if he actually puts his hands on me I’m going to faint for sure.”

Before Robin can give you a proper pep talk, Eddie saunters back into the front of the shop with a smile.

“So talk to me sweetheart, what are you thinking?”

He sits down on a rolling leather stool and slides himself toward you.

“Maybe on my shoulder and something with the ocean? A wave? A sea turtle? Some other cute sea creature?”

He smiles brightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles delicately, their warm color making you inwardly sigh.

“Can you take this off for me?” he asks, motioning to your hoodie.

“Sure,” you answer, feeling your skin heat.

You shrug off the garment and turn your body to show him the spot you’re thinking of putting it.

His eyes fill with heat at your newly exposed skin and you lick your lips and when he softly brushes his fingertips over your skin it sends a rush of warmth through your body.

Once you determine how big you want it and the spot you want it in he grabs what he needs to sketch it out.

“Tell me about your favorite memory of the ocean or the beach,” he says, placing his pencil to the paper.

As you rattle off your thoughts, Robin smiles and gets up from the couch to look around more. You don’t even notice that she’s gone and by the time you’re done talking Eddie has a sketch drawn up and he’s grinning.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry for my rambling. I hope that wasn’t too much.”

“Nah sweetheart, it was perfect. Are you ready to see?”

You nod excitedly and wait.

He lifts the sketch up and turns it around so you can see. You gasp softly, covering your mouth with your hand as your eyes take in the drawing.

“Eddie,” you whisper. “Wow.”

“That’s the second time you’ve used that word in my presence,” he teases. “You’re going to give me a big head.”

You giggle and take the paper from his hand. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. I love it. I didn’t even know I wanted this.”

He leans closer, studying first the drawing then your face. “It’s going to be even more beautiful on you.”

Robin’s playful scoff pulls both you and Eddie out of your moment and your heads simultaneously turn her way.

“What?” you ask with narrowed eyes.

“So cheesy Munson,” she states with a deadpan look.

Eddie narrows his eyes and throws her the finger.

She laughs and gives him one back.

“But it is really amazing,” she adds.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth lifts into a boyish smile and he winks at you again.  

“Ready to get started?” Eddie asks, taking your hand.

You visibly stiffen and your palm starts to sweat against his.

“I uh…I think so.”

He pulls you to your feet and tucks you into his side.

“Come on, let’s get you comfortable,” he says assuredly.

He brings you over to the tattoo bed and has you sit down.

“You have to sign this waiver first,” he explains, letting you take your time reading over the paper.

“Any allergies?” he asks.

“Nope,” you reply as you sign your name.

“Did you eat lunch?” he asks, giving you a lopsided grin when you look at him like he’s crazy.

“Umm, I did but that was about two hours ago.”

He holds up a ringed finger and jogs to the back of the shop, returning quickly with some juice and cookies.

“Here,” he says, holding both out. “Have a drink and a cookie. It’ll help.”

You open your mouth to say “wow” again, your lips shaped just so and Eddie grins, staring at your mouth before he drags his eyes up.

“Were you about to ‘wow’ me again?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” you giggle. “You really meant it when you said you’d take care of me.”

“Of course,” he tells you.

“I’m sure this is how you treat all your clients,” you say with a lighthearted roll of your eyes.

“Nah, only the ones I’m hoping to keep around,” he simpers.

“Smooth Eddie,” Robin pokes from her spot across the room. “Real smooth.”

Eddie ignores Robin’s jabs and keeps his focus on you.

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and lower your lashes, hoping to hide how his words affect you.

“Hey,” he says quietly and you bring your gaze back up to meet his. “You good?”

“I’m good.”

“I want you to talk to me the whole time and if it ever gets too much just let me know,” he says, giving you a pointed look.

“I will,” you whisper.

“Pinky promise?” he asks, holding up his pinky finger.

“Promise,” you smile and wrap your pinky around his.

You watch as he gathers his tools, double checking that everything is clean and sterile. He prepares the ink and the machine, explaining everything as he goes.

“Ok, we’ve gotta get these out of the way,” he says as he slips his fingers under the straps of your tank top and bra.

He slowly slides them down until they rest along your upper arm, before softly caressing your shoulder. The whole interaction feels intimate and you take a deep breath, relieved that he can’t see your face at the moment.  

“This might be a little cold,” he warns as he preps your skin by cleaning it.

Even with his gloves on you love the feel of his hands on you. When he places the stencil over your skin you can feel the press of his rings and you have to suppress a shiver.

“Here, take the mirror and make sure it’s where you want it.”

You stand and use the small mirror to check the placement, your eyes drifting to meet Eddie’s in the reflection.

“That’s the spot,” you say.

“Fuck yeah! Let’s do this sweetheart. I’m ready to start if you are.”

He straightens out the tattoo table and helps you get comfortable lying on your stomach with your face resting in the hole. You can see his spread legs as he rolls his stool closer and it momentarily makes you forget why you’re there.  

“Still with me?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” you breathe out, the combined nervousness of the impending tattoo and his close proximity mixing into some kind of dizzying intoxication.  

“Robin can hold your hand if you want,” he says, peeking over at her. “I would do it but I need both of mine.”

His charming words make you smile and some of your tension eases with your deep exhale.  

Robin rushes to your side and sits with her hand held out.

“You’ve got his babe,” she says confidently.

“You do,” Eddie adds.

The buzz of the machine makes you visibly tense and Eddie rests his hand on the back of your thigh.

“I need you to be a good girl for me and relax sweetheart,” he tells you when he leans down near your ear. “Can you do that?”

You make a small sound of agreement, holding back a whimper at his use of ‘good girl’ and decide that concentrating on his thighs is a good distraction. The first prick of the needle is painful but you start counting the rips in his jeans and the pain slowly eases into a mild discomfort.  

Heat radiates off his body and you soak it in, the smell of his shampoo lingering in the air every time he shifts and his curls bounce and sway.

After his third check in you ask him for a small break. He helps you to sit up, your arm curled around his neck and your body slightly shaky.

“You ok sweetheart?” he asks, pressing his fingers under your chin and lifting your eyes to his.

“Yea. Maybe just another sip of juice?”

“Of course,” he says, but keeps you in his arms. “Hey Robin, can you grab her glass for me?”

Robin gets it and starts to hand it to you but Eddie intercepts it and holds it to your lips.

“I can take a drink myself you know.”

Your words end on a giggle but you don’t stop him when he says “open up,” and gives you small sips.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much.”

He takes the glass away from your mouth and holds it out to Robin but never takes his eyes off your face, his gaze dropping to your lips. When he feels the weight of the glass disappear from his hand he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Just had a little spot of juice…”

His words are whispered and breathy as his head dips lower.

“Her tattoo isn’t finished you know!” Robin chirps from the other side of the table.

Eddie jerks his head away and shoots Robin a glare. You bury your face in Eddie’s neck and give him a squeeze.

“Alright then, let’s get this piece finished,” Eddie grumbles, still giving Robin a look.

Once you’re settled comfortably again he gets back to work, continuing to check in with you regularly.

“We’re almost done,” he says excitedly.

Robin squeals. “It looks insane!”

His fingers press against your skin, warm and strong and with a few more touches he’s finished.

“Are you ready to see it?”

His eyes are bright with anticipation as he helps you into a sitting position. You start to stand but he stops you.

“Slow down sweetheart, don’t stand just yet. I can get you the mirror to see.”

He positions you so you can see your shoulder in the reflection and your eyes go wide.

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

Eddie suddenly looks nervous, his palms sliding down his jeans and his shoulders tensing.

“Is that good?” he asks, his tone worried.

“Wow,” you say, turning your eyes to him with a huge smile.

“Another wow huh?” he grins, instantly relaxing.

“Eddie…it’s…it’s…wow.”

“That’s two!” Robin states, looking between you both.

“I’m so glad you like it sweetheart. Looks gorgeous on you.”

“Thank you, I really love it.”

You continue to stare at the piece of art tattooed on your shoulder and the longer you do, the happier Eddie gets.

“Can I stand up now?” you ask with a smirk.

“Sure,” he replies, taking your hand.

You stand on wobbly legs and fall into his arms. He catches you and cradles you against his chest, smoothing his hand along your back.

“I got you,” he whispers.

“I feel a little dizzy,” you explain.

“That’s totally normal. Why don’t we sit?”

He leads you over to the couch and sits, patting his leg.

“There’s plenty of room on the couch,” you tell him with mischief dancing in your eyes.

“Yea but his lap is better,” Robin interjects as she gives you a light shove.

You plop down into Eddie’s lap with a small oof and he wraps you in his arms, careful not to touch your tattoo.

“Better?” he asks with a smug smile.

“You’re very comfortable,” you say in response before glaring daggers up at Robin.

“What?” she asks incredulously. “You’re a dingus. I know that’s where you really want to be.”

Your mouth drops open and you huff out in frustration but regardless curl yourself into Eddie’s chest.

“How long should I sit?” you ask him.

“As long as you want,” he murmurs. “But I do have to go over a few things with you. After care and all that.”

He tilts his head, inching his face closer to yours.

“That’s my cue to leave, my work here is done! Bye dudes!” Robin sings with a triumphant grin and rushes out.

Neither you nor Eddie even notice.

“Uh huh,” you nod, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. “Like what?”

“Likeeee,” he drags out the word and pretends to think as his eyes wander over your features. “Don’t go swimming anytime soon and stay out of the sun.”

“Eddie. It’s January.”

“It is?” he asks, dropping his nose to your neck and inhaling softly with a satisfied hum.

You make a small whimper and your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Anything else?” you manage to ask, your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

“Hmm, you have to clean it 2-3 times a day and I can give you some ointment for it….and I have to clean it again and cover it before you leave.”

“I think I can manage that,” you tell him, biting your bottom lip when his nose runs the length of your neck and you feel his lips trail along your jaw.

“You did so well today,” he whispers, as he tilts his head and you feel his hands flex on your hips.

“I did?” you ask, your words nearly breathless as you squeeze your legs together.

A muscle in his jaw flexes and he smooths one hand up your arm until his long fingers cradle your cheek.

“Such a good girl,” he promises with the lightest brush of his lips, just a whisper, before he captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.

@dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose​ @goldylions​ @blackwidownat2814​

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

How long has it been precisely? Can you truly tell?

Two months one week and six days..

Of course you can, how can you not? Those days have been your dearest and most treasured after all, and even now, you still cannot truly believe that he has welcomed you into his life and Eri's.

Your feelings for the both are growing each minute that passes, and you can no longer picture your life without either one of them.

You beam cheerfully as you look at your tattoo again, it's fully healed and looks stunning, you love it, even more so because he was the one inking it.

"Hello beautiful, I'm taking Eri over to Kayama's house now, she's excited but says she misses you. I'll see you in a bit."

Your smile widens as you read his message again, it's Saturday and you have agreed to spend the night at his place, and it is to be the first time ever that you do so.

You weren't exactly sure what it meant when he suggested it— and you still aren't, does he perhaps have something special in mind? He even insisted on sending Eri to Ms Kayama's house so you can be alone for the night.

You have never spoken about being intimate before, sure, you have kissed, held hands, hugged, cuddled, and that's about it, but something feels different this time.

Secretly, you wish your expectations are correct, you are ready to move forward in your relationship but never really had the courage to initiate anything beyond the usual, so maybe tonight.. who knows..

_ "Hi." he greets you with a grin as soon as you open the door, and you immediately jump in his arms with a cheerful squeal.

You miss him a lot, and even though you see him every evening when he comes to work, it's still not enough because you don't get to hold and kiss him like you wish you could.

_ "Hi." you sneak your arms around his neck and drag him closer for a kiss, your fingers are threading into his hair while his are resting on your hips.

His kisses are always soft and slow, melting you away and fogging up your brain, they are sweet and addictive, just like he is.

_ "So, ready to go?" his whispered words are ghosting over your neck while he nuzzles you there, and you breathe out a "yes" as a shiver runs through your whole body..

You have had dates in his house and yours before, and they've always been casual and fun, sometimes even Eri joins you when you and her insist on it, but tonight is not going to be like any other -you're sure of it- because not only are you going to be home alone with him, but you're also going to spend the night.

Your excitement and anticipation are surprisingly overpowering your nerves, you have a lot of expectations for what to come but what if you're just reading too much into it?

_ "I tried following the recipe to the letter so I hope it came out well," he chuckles nervously while pulling out a chair for you on the dinner table before joining you on the other side of it, "you should've seen Eri trying her hardest to help out, she wanted it to be tasty for you."

_ "She's so sweet," your heart swells up with joy while picturing them together in the kitchen, "it looks appetizing so I'm sure it tastes delicious."

You spend dinner time catching up on each other's news since you haven't been on a date for almost a week, messages and video calls don't count at all because they do nothing to quench your longing for him.

He's as gentle as ever, his voice, his gaze, his smile, his hand cradling yours from across the table, and just everything about this man.

However, you still wish for more of him but the longer time that passes, the further you feel from achieving that, so maybe he truly just invited you over to spend the night and that's that..

_ "Wanna watch a movie or something? I have a few options." he browses through the selection and hums while his eyes study the titles, but all you can focus on is his slender form in a simple white tank top and grey sweatpants, bringing to light the ink covering his buff arms and chest that you cannot repress the urge to run your fingers along them, and so you do.

He flinches at the sudden contact and you instantly retrieve your hand in shame, what were you thinking?

_ "I'm sorry I was just, admiring your tattoos." you try lightening the mood with a shy giggle, but his face remains stoic and your heart drops to your stomach with regret.

How long is he going to stare at you without saying a word?

_ "Aizawa, what's.." but your words are cut short as he pulls you flush against his chest, crashing your lips together without a warning and sneaking his hands under your shirt to squeeze your flesh between his fingers.

_ "It's Shouta." he sounds huskier than usual as he comments between hungry kisses, and you moan a response because that's the only thing you're capable of voicing.

Shouta.. as much as you wished to, you have never called him that before -not aloud anyway- because in your dreams, in your head, in your private time with yourself, he's always been just Shouta to you, and now he's asking you straightforwardly to use the name.

You want to say it out loud, to scream it, to whimper it, but his mouth is devouring yours still.

His body heat is flowing to yours and your eager hands are roaming his protruding pecs, digging your nails into his skin because you need the reassurance that what's happening right now is real.

_ "Shou.." you struggle against his lips and it's like a switch has been turned on in his brain, the growl he lets out afterwards weakens your legs, but he's there to pick you up in his arms and stumble to his bedroom hurriedly.

You have never been to his chamber before, never thought the day would come when you'll actually be, but your once unreachable wish is now a reality as he sinks you both on his plush mattress.

_ "Is this okay?" he whispers breathlessly against your abused lips, hovering over you while his eyes search your face for a permission to carry on.

_ "Yes, it's fine." your hands are on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quickening under your touch, but you still want more.

You're longing for his bare skin against yours, for his lips all over your body, for his fingers reaching your deepest depths, "Shouta, are we..?" you're still unused to using his name casually, but the thrill coming with it is euphoric.

_ "Only if you're comfortable with it." and he truly wishes you are, his lust for you is too obvious to miss.

You say nothing after that, but your hands answer him instead as they slowly start unbuttoning your cute lace blouse while your eyes are fixed on his eager expression.

It's a little flustering to be exposed to him, what would he think of you? Do you look pretty enough for him? What if he doesn't like what he sees? What if..

_ "You're beautiful." and his response to your unvoiced questions comes to pull you back to reality.

You smile sheepishly and welcome him back in your arms, tracing his neck and shoulders as he peppers kisses on your lips, cheeks, jawline, neck, until you start giggling uncontrollably.

He leans back to gaze at you, a gleam in his eyes as he rids you of the blouse still clinging to your body, grazing your sides and belly and licking his lips seductively before diving in to kiss you there.

_ "Sho.. Shouta." you arch off the bed seeking more of the mouth doing wonders to you, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip as his stubble scrapes against your skin.

_ "Yes, I'm right here." his voice is low and tantalizing, messing with your head and sending waves of warmth deep to your guts.

Your fingers move along his slender neck until they reach his hair, tugging it gently everytime he decides to nibble on your flesh. He's tormenting you, and your patience is running low already.

His lips travel upward, covering the expanse of your smooth skin and leaving a trail of saliva and goosebumps behind, to stop right at your breasts.

He looks up, dark irises searching yours for a sign of hesitation, but he finds none, only lidded eyes silently begging him to carry on, and so he does.

He quickly unhooks your bra and slides it off of you before tossing it away where your blouse is discarded.

He's staring, intently, and it's making you cautious about laying bare underneath him, "st.. stop looking at me like that." you whine frustratedly while shifting your gaze and bringing your arms up to hide yourself behind them, but he's faster than you are, grabbing your wrists and pinning them over your head.

_ "I'm sorry but, I can't help it." he leans in again, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands leave yours to caress down your body, exploring you slowly and thoroughly until finally cupping your breasts.

You shudder in suprise and let out a moan that he thirstily swallows, his hands are big, warm and gentle, fondling your mounds and circling his thumbs around your perked up nipples.

Your breath hitches at once when you feel his growing bulge nudging your thigh, and suddenly everything becomes real.

This is happening, it's no longer just in your head..

You buck your hips against his own unintentionally, and he lets out a muffled hiss as his lips leave yours.

_ "Wait, don't do that." he groans against your neck while squeezing his eyes shut.

What's happening? Did you do something wrong?

_ "I'm sorry Shouta, I'm.."

Good job ruining the mood.

_ "No, no that's not it," he interjects with a worried smile, "you're just so enticing that I don't think I'm able to handle anymore teasing."

You heave a sigh of relief hearing his words, here you thought he might've hated your impulsive advance when in reality he has enjoyed it a bit too much, and you find yourself tempted to do it again, just so you could relish his flustered expression once more.

_ "This makes me so happy.." you whisper a response as your nails rake his arms teasingly, peering at him through your lashes with an inviting gaze.

His lips ghost over your neck and collarbone, placing the softest kisses in their path until they reach your luscious plumpness, "you look delicious." and his brazen words travel through every vein in your body.

His tongue darts out to lick your sensitive nipples one at a time, humming pleasurably as he does, and the wild sensation he's casually providing you, clouds up your brain and messes with your sanity.

He nibbles on your flesh, relishing your cute trembles and sweet sounds of his name moving past your lips as he engulfs your swollen teats into his mouth and devours you hungrily. Growls of pleasure vibrate against your skin as they leave his throat, and greedy hands move lower and lower until they reach your pants to hastily unbutton and lower them to your knees.

_ "Take them off of me, Shouta.." you request breathlessly while writhing underneath him, you're strangely comfortable with every move he's making and wish to dive deeper into this sensation.

_ "You got it beautiful." he mumbles with a mouthful of your flesh, wasting no time to yank off the garment and leave you only in a pair of silk lavender panties that's elegantly wrapped around your most delicate parts.

A gush of cold air hits your skin as he releases your bud with a shameless pop to sit up and observe you, his dark eyes blaze with passion while taking in every single detail of your luscious curves and you suddenly miss the feeling of his mouth on you, arching your back in hopes of making it clear.

He chuckles heartily and places his warm hands on your sides, hooking his fingers in the hem of your undergarment teasingly before running a digit along your covered pussy.

You twitch under his touch and he groans at your reaction before diving in to peck you there, "relax, this is fine right?"

_ "Yeah, yeah it is." you squeeze your eyes shut and spread out your legs further for him to bury his face there, biting hard on your lip and grabbing onto the bedsheets as he grazes his teeth along your panties.

His tongue is hot and tantalizing, tormanting you through the thin fabric with slow wet licks and trails on your concealed crevice.

Your fingers leave the bedding and thread through his hair as he laps you up faster, soaking the frail garment and stimulating you more.

_ "Shouta, please.."

Has it ever crossed your mind that you might possibly be this intimate with the man? Well, perhaps, but only in your mind when you'd spend hours upon hours daydreaming about him, and even then, it has always felt embarrassing and awkward to have such indecent fantasies about him, but this, this isn't embarrassing nor is it awkward and you fail to understand why, but you love it, and that's all you know.

_ "Uhum, what is it? Tell me." he whispers gruffly.

What you want is more of him, what you need is his mouth directly against your folds, but you cannot possibly voice your desire.

He smirks with a feral look in his eyes, "I got it," swiftly sliding off your panties and throwing them away, "this is what you want right?" and he doesn't even wait for you to reply before planting soft kisses on your trembling thighs and placing them carefully on his shoulders, moving in slowly to lick the outlines of the puffy lips and finally push his way to your glistening slit.

The foreign sensation is driving you mad, being devoured by him has certainly been beyond your wildest dreams, yet here you are, his lips are pressed against your lower ones and his warm tongue is slowly moving between your fluttering hole and reddening clit, twisting and rolling deliciously along your slick folds.

_ " Shouta.. right there." the knot in your belly is tightening as he draws your puffy clit into his mouth, sucking it hungrily while his satisfied humms vibrate deep within you.

His grip on your thighs tenses as you start writhing and moaning beneath him, "I can't, I'm cumming, Shouta!" you cry out a warning and grab onto his hands while a wild shudder shakes you to the core, and he doesn't pull away, not yet, not until your pulsating cunt finally slows, and your tense body falls limp.

He gently lowers your legs and arises from between them, slick coated lips glistening and heavy eyes gleaming with animalistic desire while roaming your sprawled frame.

_ "How are you feeling?" his voice is low and gentle, and his thumbs are caressing your sides as he asks.

_ "I'm.. good.. so good." and your breathing is labored as you strive to keep your gaze on him through blurry eyes, the tingling sensation running throughout your body is unbearable and your thirst for him is yet to be quenched.

You want him out of his clothes already, to touch his bare skin and feel his warmth, and the little chuckle he lets out tells you he understands what's on your mind.

He swiftly lifts his shirt over his head and drops it to the ground, his raven hair falls around his face and the look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you reach out a shaky hand to run along his inked skin, and for a moment there you get lost in the beautiful details of the art adorning him, you see it all now, every last bit of it as nothing is concealing it away.

He grabs your wrist gently and kisses you there, right where he etched your red rose a few weeks ago, "I love this, it has brought you to my life."

_ "Shouta.." warmth is spreading throughout you whole, as the sincerity of his statement is filling your heart with joy, "me too, it's like a part of you is always with me."

You welcome him in your arms as he lays on top you, bare chests pressed together and eager lips devouring each other in a passionate liplock. You can feel his bulge, hard as a rock against your thigh, and your eagerness to have it buried deep within you is too great to contain.

You roll your hips faintly against him and swallow the surprised gasp he lets out, you can tell he's barely holding on to his sanity when he starts thrusting shallowly against you, but that's hardly enough..

He breaks the kiss to sit up again, parading the huge stiffness formed underneath the confinement of his pants, and running his fingers through his hair while observing your reaction.

This is torture that only he can end, and you actually beg him to, "please hurry Shouta, I can't wait any longer."

That's the only thing he needed to hear you utter before carefully lowering his sweatpants and boxers and freeing his raging cock, "me neither beautiful."

Your eyes widen and your breath gets caught in your throat as his veiny shaft bounces against his abdomen, he looks away as a faint blush dusts his cheeks and you find him almost.. cute, if not for the twitching length pointing to you.

You want to touch it, to guide it to your expectant pussy, but you do not possess the audacity to do so, settling for spreading your legs a bit wider instead.

He leans over to open his nightstand's drawer and rummage through it a bit before pulling out a pack of condoms, hastily taking one out and tossing the rest back.

Has he always had those or did he prepare them especially for tonight?

_ "I got these a couple of weeks ago for a night like this, but I was never going to pressure you into anything I promise." he smiles sweetly while answering your unvoiced question.

You know that though, you trust him wholeheartedly and are certain he would never force you to do anything you're uncomfortable with, "I'm glad you did Shouta, because I'm ready."

You observe fervently as he rolls on the rubber and gives himself a few pumps before aligning his length with your pulsating cunt, "brace yourself babe," he groans through clenched teeth before easing himself into you with a strangled "fuck" leaving his throat.

Your body tenses and eyes widen because of the inevitable twinge of the first intrusion, he's big, stretching you out and filling you to the brim, but he's also there for you, leaning in to kiss your forehead and guide your breathing while rubbing soothing circles on your sides, "I won't move yet, so don't worry."

You follow his instructions and take deep breaths, digging your nails in his shoulders to keep from whimpering. It's obviously hard for him to stay still but he's patiently waiting for you to give him permission to move, and the realization warms up your heart.

_ "I'm fine Shouta, you can move now." to be frank, it is a bit painful still, but your lust for him is even more aching.

He slowly pulls back to the tip and pushes in again just as slowly, his heavy breaths are tickling your face and his hands are squeezing your flesh to keep himself in check.

You cradle his cheeks and look deeply into his eyes with a dazed smile brightening your features, and the little chuckle he lets out swells your heart.

_ "What is it? Why are you smiling at me?" he teases playfully.

_ "I just, I want to ensure this is reality."

His eyes widen hearing your response, but soon, his expression softens once more and he captures your lips in a breathtaking kiss that messes with your brain.

He starts moving again, steadily and carefully, pushing in and out of your warmth as your kiss deepens, it's fiery and sensual, bringing shockwaves of pleasure to the tip of your belly.

His lips part from yours to lay hasty pecks on your cheeks and jawline before moving lower to latch onto your neck while his thrusts gradually quicken.

_ "Shouta, keep going please, just like that." the initial discomfort is finally gone and replaced with an arousing sensation, you shakily wrap your arms around him and whimper his name repeatedly as he bites on your collarbone and pushes faster and deeper.

Remnants of your first orgasm are already coaxing a second one to come, and his skillful plunges and tormenting kisses are driving you mad as your pussy squeezes around him.

_ "Ah fuck.. you feel so good inside that I won't be able to hold out much longer." he growls against your flesh as his thrusts become erratic and his fingers dig deeper into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

_ "Me too! Shouta please! I'm cumming again!" you cry out through strangled whimpers and wrap your strained legs around his waist to bring him even closer.

It doesn't take much longer after that for you to wail his name over and over again until a splintering bliss ripples through your whole being, and you're left shuddering with mind blowing ecstacy.

He sits up at once, hips snapping against yours and pounding mercilessly into your pulsating walls as you ride out your orgasm, his eyes shine across the dimly lit room as he fills up his senses with the sight of you; spent body shimmering in a sheen of sweat and a deep flush, puffy lips mouthing his name repeatedly, disheveled hair strewn over the pillow, trembling fists grasping onto the bedsheets beneath you, and he loses his mind at that instance, low groans escaping his mouth as he thrusts one last time before his hips finally still, buried deep into your warmth as his pearly seeds fill up the condom.

You welcome him between your arms as he collapses on top of you, and you can feel his heart pounding against your chest while his hot breath tickles your cheek.

You're too exhausted to move a muscle, but cannot fight the smile appearing on your face, tonight was perfect, he is perfect.

He shifts a little to slip out of you with a groan leaving his throat and a gasp leaving yours, your walls are left empty, clenching around nothing as he peels off the rubber and tosses it in the trashcan nearby.

_ "Are you okay?" he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear.

_ "Yes, you were very gentle with me." your eyes are heavy and already closing as you reply.

_ "Well, you're my lady."

You yelp in surprise when he picks you up in his arms and gets out of bed, walking straight to the bathroom with you clutching on to his shoulders, "and now all I need you to do is relax and allow me to take care of everything." he requests with a smile while putting the toilet lid down and placing you gently atop it before turning on warm water to fill the tub.

_ "I'm all yours, Shouta."

To be continued..

[avacoleman]

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either.  After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man.  As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 4/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Denver, CO Rocky Mountain Expo Henry thanks the powers that be for allowing Pez to crash the tour for the next two days. And by that, he means he cannot thank Alex enough for arranging for Pez to join them at Rocky Mountain Expo in Denver. He figures it might’ve been him mentioning one too many times how much of a Crescent Valley fan Pez was that Alex perhaps took pity and worked some magic behind the scenes to get him to fly out. Whatever it is, Henry is immensely grateful. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed Pez’s presence. Certainly they’d kept up well with FaceTimes and texts over the last few weeks, but there’s nothing quite like genuine face to face connection with a person– especially when that someone is none other than Percy Okonjo. At his side now, Henry watches Pez drink it all in. The convention center, like every other stop so far, is brimming with people from all sorts of fandoms. It’s chaotic and exciting, all baselines for a guy like Pez.  Alex had left from their hotel earlier than Henry so that he could attend the scheduled fan breakfast and Henry could be available to get Pez sorted. It’s such a small thing, but it was almost as strange being apart from Alex this morning as it has been to be away from Pez these past couple of weeks. Henry hadn't realized just how dependent he’d grown on Alex’s company.

Henry’s phone buzzes in his pocket as he and Pez visit different vendors in Artist Alley where creatives sell their custom made pieces. He takes a look at the screen and sees a text from Alex.

Alex everything going well with you and pez?

Henry smiles and notes the time. There’s still thirty minutes before Alex’s panel and having the experience firsthand, he can just imagine Alex behind the scenes, keeping busy to work out his excited energy.

Henry Indeed. Would it be alright if I brought him round to meet you now? Or would after be better?

Alex now pls!

“We’re being summoned,” Henry says, pocketing his phone again. 

Pez doesn’t need any more prompting and Henry leads them through the crowds to get to the hall Alex’s panel is being held. He’s surprised but pleased to find Alex already waiting for them by a private set of doors. Henry’s heart does a funny little swoop seeing Alex standing there, greeting them with a smile.

“Alex. I wanted you to meet Pez.”

Alex beams his thousand-watt smile at Pez.

“I feel like I already know you. Henry talks about you all the time. Nothing but good things, I promise,” he says.

Pez looks more and more like the Cheshire Cat as his smile overtakes his face.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, as I live and breathe,” Pez says in a scarily good Southern debutante accent.

“You’ll have to forgive Pez. He has consumed far too much American media from the time he was a small, impressionable child. I fear the damage cannot be undone.”

Alex laughs. “It’s paid off pretty well. That sounded authentic as hell. You could give me a run for my money.”

Pez, unshakable formidable Pez, actually giggles at the compliment.

“You’re a charmer. Go on now. Keep saying more nice things. I won’t object.”

Henry watches them go, riffing off each other as if they’ve known each other forever. It feels like Henry has entered into an alternate universe of some kind, watching his worlds collide.

“I’m sure you guys must’ve made plans, but if you’re interested, I’d love to take y’all out for dinner tonight,” Alex says.

Pez’s eyes light up. “I’m sure we could shuffle a few things around,” he says, looking at Henry for confirmation. He nods and Pez smiles.

“We’d be delighted. Dinner sounds positively lovely. Thank you,” Pez continues.

Henry turns to Alex. “We could all meet back in the hotel lobby at quarter to 7 perhaps?”

Alex nods. “Yeah, that’d be great. Things should be pretty hectic at the expo today. I’ll look into making reservations nearby afterwards."

Voices carry a bit louder from inside the hall.

"I should probably get back," Alex says. "But have fun you guys and enjoy the panel. Pez, it was really nice meeting you. I will absolutely be expecting a truckload of embarrassing stories and any overall dirt you might have on Henry, so start brainstorming now,” he says with a wink.

 Henry already rues turning them into co-conspirators.

Pez smiles and wiggles his fingers at Alex before he leaves them to head to the greenroom. The moment Alex rounds the corner, Pez does an unseemly victory dance right there in the corridor.

“How can you possibly stand being around him all day every day without wanting to jump his bones? He’s even more attractive in person. That’s just unnatural. Dare I say, it’s supernatural.”

Henry touches his hand to his forehead.

“Come on. Let’s go grab our seats. They’ll be starting shortly.”

~*~*~

The secret of his true dynamic with Alex haunts Henry like a tell-tale heart. Each time Pez mentioned Alex’s name after the panel and now back here in their hotel room, Henry feels as if he could choke on the secret.

“I’ve hit rock bottom,” he says, apropos of nothing as he and Pez watch an episode of Crescent Valley on his laptop in bed.

“Welcome! There’s plenty of room down here,” Pez says, yanking Henry to rest his head in his lap. “Come now, tell Auntie Pezza what ails you, my darling.”

Henry sighs and hits the spacebar, freezing the show. It’s a small mercy that it isn’t a scene with Alex. He’s not so sure he’d be able to get through this conversation with Alex’s face right there in front of them.

“I think I’ve made a mistake.”

Pez’s fingers scratch lightly against Henry’s scalp.

“My dear Henry, you’re a writer. I need you to put your fancy degree to good use and elaborate for me, love.”

Henry looks away, unable to maintain eye contact for what he’s about to say.

“Part of me is falling for someone that I shouldn’t. Maybe ‘falling for’ is a bit too much. I need more time to parse it, but I feel…different sometimes.”

Pez’s hand stops combing through his hair.

“Hang on now. You haven’t met anyone new recently that I know of. I mean, there’s that secret midnight hookup back in New York and of course, scrumptious Alex. The latter would be bonkers, but it can’t be the former. You never got his info.”

Henry bites back on his lower lip. Pez is so close to the mark.

“That’s not exactly true. I sort of…ran into him the next day.”

“Have you any Advil here? I swear you’re giving me a headache talking in riddles like this. You had lunch with Alex the next day and then came straight home, no?”

Pez’s eyes grow wide, realization sinking in. Henry sits up and not a moment too soon as Pez’s hands fly to his mouth and he muffles a scream.

“No! Oh, my god, wait. No. There’s just no way! You don’t mean to say…Alex is Javier?”

Henry looks down at his hands, suddenly very fascinated with them.

“Well, now, that just shattered all my illusions. Pity he wasn’t good in bed. As fit as he is…hmm.”

“He wasn’t good that first night, no. But since then…”

“Since then! ” Pez shrieks, completely scandalized. “Grab the smelling salts! Get me a lounge chair! I’m going to pass out, I swear it. This is simply too much for me to take,” he says, putting a hand over his heart.

Pez shakes his head almost cartoonishly.

“Do you mean to tell me you two have been shagging this whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” Henry says reflexively. “Look, Pez, you cannot say a word to anyone, do you understand?”

Pez’s face grows serious, all his theatrics subsiding at the drop of a hat. 

“I give you my word. You know that. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

Henry nods. “No, I know. I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing anxiously at his temple. “I’m just…there’s so much riding on this, you know? The book, my contract. Most importantly though, he’s only out to his friends and family right now. This isn’t even my secret to tell. But, heavens, Pez, I feel like I’ve been dying keeping this in. Things are so good with us. I’ve been loving being on this tour.”

“Well, I should think so,” Pez says, smirking a little. “If I were spending my nights tangled in the sheets with none other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, I’d be having the time of my already fabulous life too.”

Henry shoves him gently.

“You’re horrible, but I’ll admit, that’s been an added bonus. But honestly? I simply like being around him. He’s clever and funny and smart and infuriating in the best ways at times…I don’t know. It’s been fun getting to know him.”

Pez’s brows furrow a bit.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Hazza? It actually does sound an awful lot like you’re falling pretty hard here. I assume you two have struck up a deal of some sort with guidelines?”

“It’s just casual. Platonic even. I’m merely giving him pointers in the bedroom and by the time I leave from the tour, that’ll be the end of that. We’ll both move on from this,” Henry says.

Pez doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

“I don’t think you can put a hard deadline on feelings. No offense, but casual has never quite been your factory setting.”

Henry shakes his head. “It’s fine. This is so unlike me. I’m only being silly now, getting swept up in the secrecy of it all.”

Pez grins. “That I can understand. This is terribly salacious. I’m eating it up with a bib and a spoon.”

Pez hums and taps his chin. “Now, let’s back it up just a taste for one moment, honey. When you say he’s improved since New York…”

Henry buries his face in his hands and groans.

“Oh, come on! You’ve got to give me something here,” Pez insists. “You’ve been sitting on an absolute treasure trove of a secret for weeks now!”

Henry looks up and takes a deep breath.

“He…takes instructions very well. He’s a rather quick and adept learner. An enthusiastic one at that.”

Pez’s smile grows even wider which Henry didn’t think was humanly possible.

“I’d absolutely hate you if I didn’t love you so much. I’m dying. Good on you though.”

Henry laughs at the absurdity of Pez’s praise.

“Anyway, I needed to tell someone before I popped, so thank you for indulging me.”

“No, no. Thank you, my dear, for this cup of delicious, piping hot tea. I’m all the more excited for dinner now, to get to know the kitten who has gotten my best friend so smitten.”

~*~*~

After an incredible dinner at one of the trendiest restaurants Henry has ever been to, Pez insists they keep the night going with drinks downtown. It’s truly a marvel to see how easily his best friend is able to be at home anywhere, even a place he’s only now visiting for the first time.

From the moment they entered the club, Pez took his place on the dancefloor like a king holding court among his subjects. He dances with perfectly good strangers, cozying up to a few of them. Henry is already wondering if he’ll have to arrange to sleep elsewhere tonight.

He shakes his head to himself as he reaches for his drink where he and Alex sit in a corner booth, away from the crowd but with a perfect view to see it all.

“You told Pez about us,” Alex says out of the blue, a statement not a question.

Henry bites nervously on his bottom lip, stunned. He thinks back to dinner. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He actually thought Pez did a good job of hiding the fact that he was in on the secret. Yet still, Alex clearly picked up on something.

“I did. I’m sorry. I promise, he wouldn’t tell anyone. Subtly may not be his strong suit,” he says, glancing over Pez with his bubblegum pink hair and flashy sequined jacket, an all-out blur on the dancefloor, “but discretion is. He knows you aren’t out. He’d never in a million years breathe a word of any of this.”

Alex nods and smiles. “If you trust him, so do I. Honestly, I’m not worried. In all fairness, I told my sister and Nora.”

Henry can’t even begin to absorb that information or the possible implications of it. It’s just enough to know that this dynamic between them felt worthwhile enough for Alex to tell the two closest people to him.

“And do they think us mad for this?”

“Actually, no. They damn near threw me a party,” Alex says, reaching for his beer and laughing to himself.  “Your fan club increased by two automatically.”

Henry lifts a brow. “Am I to assume you’re a member too?”

“Sweetheart, I’m the president. The founding member.”

Henry smiles demurely and shakes his head. 

“Once again, I must say, you do wonders for my self-esteem. Thank you.”

Alex eyes him curiously.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Henry says. “What’s on your mind?”

“How the fuck are you single? Not that I’m actually complaining because, selfishly, there’s no way in hell we’d be able to do any of the things we’ve been doing since New York. I’m counting my lucky stars and all that jazz, but still. It’s absolutely crazy to me that you aren’t seeing anyone. I’m sure that’s a conscious choice on your part. It’s got to be. A guy like you wouldn’t have any issues finding a boyfriend if you wanted one.”

Henry rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what it is. Perhaps I’m too closed off.”

“Bullshit. The night we met, you opened up to me. You were so easy to talk to. I felt like I’d always known you.”

This brings Henry up short. He’d felt that same connection with Alex too, but to hear the man echo the sentiment almost identically to how he’d thought about it is slightly disorienting.

“I think we’ve established that night was a special case. It was different with you. I was different with you than I normally am with literally every other guy I’ve pursued. I don’t know why. I just felt comfortable so it was easy, for the first time in God only knows how long to open up. It was a fluke.”

“Or fate,” Alex says. His eyes widen and he blinks twice quickly. “I’m like…I’m not trying to say we’re soulmates or anything,” he stammers. “I just mean, I don’t know. It’s rare for me too to click with someone like that. I think there’s something to be said for two people like us just happening across each other then crossing paths again the very next day. What are the odds of that?”

Henry is quiet as he mulls over Alex’s words. 

“I don’t mean to freak you out. Shit, just forget I said anything.”

Henry shakes his head.

“You didn't. I think you might actually have a point and I don’t know what to make of it.”

He searches Alex's eyes then looks away, back down to his laptop.

“Anyway, to answer your question, I suppose I’m single because it simply isn’t my time right now. I’ve never truly been lucky in that department. Our night aside, I really do have a tendency to guard myself.”

“Why?” Alex asks. “There’s so much good in there. I could see it on day one. That’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

“So it wasn’t just my dashing good looks and accent?”

Alex cocks his head to the side and gives him a look.

“I’m serious. I’ve been seeing it ever since. You’re depriving people, Henry. Most of all, yourself and I think that’s the worst part in all of this. It’d be a shame to never share that.”

Henry’s brows furrow. In a way, hadn’t he been letting Alex in this whole time? Henry realizes belatedly that maybe it didn’t count. After all, none of this was actually real. 

If only his heart knew that.

“Shall I get us another round?” he says, rising from his seat, suddenly needing to be away from this suffocating booth.

Alex runs a hand through his hair.

“Fuck. Henry, wait. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Henry says, perhaps too quickly. He tries again, setting his hand down on the table. 

“We’re good. I just…I need a moment is all. Besides, I should probably get Pez a large glass of water before he passes out.”

Alex’s knuckles touch the back of his hand. It’s so subtle and faint, any passerby wouldn’t even notice. But that small point of contact becomes the sole focus of Henry’s entire world.

“You’re sure we’re okay?” Alex asks again.

Henry stares back at him.

“Always.”

~*~*~

Columbus, OH GalaxyCon Day 1

Another week, another time zone and Henry is convinced tour life might actually be the death of him.

When they arrived in Ohio yesterday evening, Henry had felt a bit off. He ignored the feeling, not wanting anything to put a damper on the upcoming con and Alex’s excitement over it. He’d be joined again by his castmates and was looking forward to the big dinner they had planned before they were all parting ways again.

Henry liked how pumped Alex got ahead of and during cons, the way he’d light up at the prospect of seeing familiar faces in the crowds and new ones alike. Since the announcement, Henry has noticed the uptick in fervor from both Alex and fans. The last thing Henry wants to do is give Alex any cause for concern or worry.

He gets through most of the morning at GalaxyCon pretty well until close to noon when Alex’s panel is set to start.

“You okay?” Alex asks. “You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, I think all this traveling is catching up to me.”

Alex puts the back of his hand on Henry’s forehead.

“You feel warm, Henry. You must be coming down with something.”

Henry can hear the worry in Alex's voice.

“I’m fine.”

“I can literally see and feel that you aren’t.”

Henry can hear fans being let into the hall. Maybe all he needs now is just some time away to sit alone with some peace and quiet.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m going to pop back to the hotel and get some rest.”

Alex’s lips and brows are pinched with concern.

“Of course it’s okay. Do you need anything?”

Henry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. You have your panel to focus on. I’ll be fine.”

Alex doesn’t look convinced and Henry can see the debate he’s having with himself.

He touches Alex’s arm lightly. “I’ll check in with you later. Go have fun out there with your friends.”

Almost on cue, the rest of the cast starts to line up behind the stage. Henry watches them go past but Alex doesn’t budge.

“Go, Alex. I’ll be fine.”

Alex sighs and nods, finally accepting defeat.

“The second we’re done here though, I’m calling you.”

“Fair enough,” Henry says. “I’ll be as good as new by the time you do. You’ll see.”

~*~*~

There’s an annoying pounding sound that makes Henry’s already aching head feel worse as he opens his eyes.

“Henry, let me in,” he hears faintly.

Henry groans and rolls over in bed, instantly regretting the move. His vision feels like a dizzying kaleidoscope. He shuts his eyes again and takes a breath before looking around his room.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been knocked out, but the sun is no longer in the sky and that’s telling enough.

“Henry?” the voice calls again. There are three more quick knocks on the door. “You’re freaking me out. Open up.”

Alex. 

Henry sways as he gets to his feet. It takes a moment for the room to stop feeling like it’s spinning before he walks over to the door and opens it.

On the other side, he’s met with an anxious looking Alex who takes a deep breath of relief.

“Thank God. I was about to get hotel security.”

“I’m fine,” Henry says. 

Alex’s face is incredulous. “You look like shit which I never thought was possible. No offense,” he tacks on. “Shaan has been calling you. I’ve been calling you. I thought you’d passed out though, by the looks of things, I’m guessing that’s exactly what happened. You’re sick.”

Henry rubs at his left temple.

“I need…to sit. You…can keep talking if you want,” he says, stepping away from the door and back into the room.

Behind him, Alex scoffs and presumably comes inside. Henry hears the door close, but it feels like it’d take too much effort to turn around and confirm.

He sits on the edge of bed and wraps the covers around himself like a cocoon.

“I wanted to ask you some more stuff for the book. I just need thirty minutes more. You can go. I’ll set an alarm,” he says, fumbling around the nightstand for his phone but he soon abandons the task when he forgets what he’s searching for a moment later.

“Forget the book. Do you know what day it is?” Alex asks as he approaches his bedside.

“It’s Friday,” Henry mumbles, the comforter falling from his shoulders. 

“Okay, yeah, technically. But it’s also Opposite Day. So, I will be doing the polar opposite of everything you suggest.”

“Alex. How is that— in any way, shape, or form—different from any other day of the week for you?”

Alex grins, his nose scrunching as he does so.

“You may have lost the ability to breathe through your nose, but it’s nice to know your sass is still firmly in place.”

A wave of nausea hits Henry just then, holding him back from making another quick retort. The discomfort he feels must register on his face as Alex’s smile disappears and concern quickly takes its place instead. 

“Come on, seriously, lay down. Please let me take care of you.”

Henry’s tired body responds at once as if it’d been waiting for the command to allow him to finally give in. He settles in on his side and Alex is right there, pulling the comforter over him.

Henry’s surprised as Alex crouches beside the bed, their faces on level as he brushes damp strands from Henry’s forehead. His fingertips are soft against Henry’s skin where they lightly graze him. Alex’s eyes track the movement of his own hand, but Henry can’t look away from the other man's face, taking stock of the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones and his perfect mouth parts slightly. 

“I’ll be right back,” Alex says softly. “I’m going to find the nearest pharmacy and grab a few things for you.”

“I just need to sleep it off.”

Alex scoffs. “Christ, and I thought I was stubborn. I might’ve finally found my match.”

Those words shouldn’t have the power to make Henry’s heart leap. He chalks it up to his sickness for the temporary delusion that Alex could mean anything more. They aren’t a match, even if they’ve been proving to be compatible in virtually every regard. He’s simply not the kind of person Alex actually settles down with.

It’s far too much to think about now; perhaps even when he isn’t feeling like Death warmed over wouldn’t be the best time to attempt dissecting all his complicated feelings.

“You’re the hottest nurse I’ve ever had.”

Alex winks. “If only I’d had time to get a uniform. You’ll just have to use your imagination, sweetheart.”

“A literal interpretation of a fever dream, huh?”

Alex smiles and strokes Henry’s hair again.

“Speaking of dreams, get some sleep while I’m gone.” Henry watches Alex snag his keycard from the nightstand. “I’ll let myself in when I get back. Call if anything changes while I’m out, okay?”

Henry nods, but already his brain is starting to shut down, his eyes too.

He feels a gentle hand against his cheek and what he thinks could be lips on the crown of his head for a brief moment before sleep overtakes him.

~*~*~

When he opens his eyes again, Alex’s back is to him as he sits at the front of the bed. An episode of The Golden Girls is playing on the television and Henry thinks, surely, this fever is playing tricks on his mind.

He sits up slowly and Alex turns at once just as the show breaks for advertisements.

Alex smiles and gets to his feet, going over to the table in the room. Henry sees two tote bags there that Alex begins to unload. The haul is serious, complete with cough medicine, throat lozenges, vapor rub, and even soup and orange juice.

It warms Henry’s heart to see the care that’s gone into this, but he can’t imagine this is how anyone would want to spend a Friday night.

“You’re sweet for this, Alex, thank you,” he says, sniffling a little. He clears his throat.

“You’re going to get sick if you hang around much longer though. You should probably go. I can take it from here. Honest.”

“Do I make for such poor company that you’re giving me the boot already? I’m borderline offended.”

Henry lets out a breath, the closest thing he can muster to a laugh, and gets into bed again, pulling the covers over himself.

“Of course not. I’d just feel even worse if you caught this because of me.”

Alex brings the container of soup over and sets it on the nightstand.

“I’m from Texas. We’re built strong. And besides, I always prepare for the con circuit. At this point I’ve probably got more Airborne than blood running through my veins. I’m good and I’m staying now shh, commercials are over.”

Henry shakes his head to himself as Alex focuses back on the screen and sits beside him now on top of the covers. Henry studies his profile, the sharp angles on a still soft face.

“You must be starving by now and if you aren’t, that’s all the more reason to eat. Here, try a bit of the soup.”

Alex leans over him and grabs the circular plastic container and takes the lid off. Vapors rise from it and it hits Henry then just how hungry he really is. Alex dips a spoon inside and brings it to his lips.

“I can feed myself. I’m not a baby,” Henry protests.

“No, but you’re acting like one. Now shut up and let me take care of you, dammit,” Alex grumbles.

“Your bedside manor could use a bit more work,” Henry says, but he obliges, leaning forward and taking a sip. 

Alex’s eyes look anxious as he watches him.

“Is it good? I went with chicken noodle, a tried and true classic. But if you want something else, I could always—”

“It’s perfect, thank you. You’ve done more than enough, Alex. Seriously.”

He lets Alex coddle him and finishes the soup before taking some cold medicine and orange juice. They watch more TV though Henry doesn’t really pay attention to anything on the screen. His body feels drained again and he's glad Alex had been stubborn and insisted on staying. It’d be an even more miserable scene if he were alone.

He tucks in on Alex’s side and rests his head against his chest.

“I’m really glad you're here,” Henry says after a moment. He listens to the steady drumming of Alex’s heart as the man cards his fingers through Henry’s hair, his dull nails gently scratching against his scalp. It’s enough to lull Henry; he feels himself quickly losing the battle to fatigue all over again.

“There’s no place else I’d rather be. Get some more rest, sweetheart,” he hears Alex’s voice say quietly as he begins to drift. The final word hit Henry’s ear a bit differently. It’s not as if Alex has never said it to him before, but this time, it sounded sincerely affectionate. Romantic even.

His exhaustion and delirium must be at an all-time high and working together to make him conjure up the term of endearment Alex has never uttered in that particular tone before.

~*~*~

Columbus, OH

Day 2

“You missed the cast dinner,” Henry says almost accusatorily, setting his plate of breakfast and mug of tea down on Alex’s table the next morning in the hotel's dining hall.

“Hi, sunshine. Good morning to you too. Slept well then?” Alex replies, popping a grape into his mouth.

Henry frowns as he takes a seat.

“Alex, I’m serious. I just realized you were supposed to meet up with everyone last night.”

Alex shrugs and plucks another grape from the bunch on his plate.

“And yet the world is still spinning. The sun is still shining. It’s not a big deal. I see them all the time and you needed me more. It wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

Henry feels his face warm slightly at the sentiment. 

“You didn’t have to sacrifice your night for me.”

“It wasn’t a sacrifice. I wanted to be there for you. It’s as simple as that.”

Henry pulls out a chair and sits.

“Well, thank you. I appreciated it.”

Alex smiles. “You look good today. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too. Considering the fact that you bought up half the pharmacy, my immune system didn’t have a choice but to get itself in order. How much do I owe you?”

“And here I was thinking we finally moved past this. I’m not accepting any form of payment or payback for last night,” Alex says, spreading cream cheese on a bagel.

 Henry smiles to himself.

“You’re infuriatingly stubborn.”

“I might’ve been told that once or twice before, yes.”

Henry laughs and decides he’s better off shifting gears.

“What would you like to do today? Are any of your castmates still in town?”

Alex shakes his head.

“Nah, not for long. They had early morning flights and should be at the airport by now if they aren’t already in the skies.”

Henry bites his tongue to avoid apologizing again.

“Perhaps we could hang out then? Maybe we could get lunch or do something fun before we kiss this city goodbye too.”

Alex grabs his phone and types something into it.

“Have you ever done mini-golf before?”

Henry laughs.

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“There's an adventure park near here. Mini-golf, go karts…you in?”

“Are you an adrenaline junkie?” Henry asks, taking a sip of his tea.

Alex eyes him for a moment.

“I’m a fan of most things that get my heart racing. Surely you must know that by now.”

Henry tries and fails not to look affected. Usually Alex saves flirtatious talk like this for their lessons, when they’re in the privacy of one of their rooms.

He figures he’s overthinking it. Anyone passing by would simply think it’s an innocuous statement. Only Henry knows the deeper meaning of his words. It excites him, having this secret hiding in plain sight.

“That makes two of us then. I’m game.”

~*~*~

They unwind after a day of adventure in Alex’s room watching Crescent Valley. Alex gives Henry behind the scenes commentary on what it was like filming on the show and he takes advantage of the insights, letting his phone rest between them as they lay side by side in bed, recording all the stories so that he can add more color to the book.

Henry creates a new voice note and puts the show on pause, switching over to his running notes document.

“Can you talk to me about your journey learning about your sexuality?” he asks. “It’s such a key part to the memoir, I’d love to hear more about that.”

Alex pulls in a breath and Henry feels a bit guilty about switching gears so suddenly. In contrast to how easy it was for Alex to share on-set anecdotes, he seems unsure of where to start now.

“It used to be a distant, vague thing in my head. The first concrete period of time I can pinpoint is freshman year. I played lacrosse in high school,” Alex says. “And I was damn good.”

Henry can picture it easily, Alex in uniform, a complete rockstar on the field. He’s patient as Alex parses his thoughts.

“I’d get super competitive with guys I thought had an edge on me. I can’t really describe it. But sometimes I’d reason, if I could beat them, they’d be impressed and I’d get on their radar. I really don’t know how to explain it,” he repeats. Henry can hear the frustration. “I guess I was seeking some kind of validation. I wanted them to notice me and not just as an athlete.”

Alex sighs.

“I’ve only genuinely hooked up with one guy other than you. I’ve gotten wasted at parties in L.A before and I’ve made out with some dudes, but it was always something I could explain away like, I was drunk or just doing a bit. Messing around, you know? But then I’d think about high school and the way one of my teammates and I would kinda orbit around each other. It wasn’t…the same with him. With Liam,” Alex sighs and Henry doesn’t miss how soft Alex’s voice gets when saying his old teammates name. 

“I didn’t get that competitive streak. It was different. More real. With him, it was like we were on equal ground.”

Alex shakes his head, toying with his fingers.

“We were good friends. We’d hang out a lot after practice or games. We kind of fell into it. I almost don’t even remember how or when I noticed it for the first time, the way we’d hold each other’s gaze a little longer than was needed. Or the way we’d make excuses to casually touch either other in almost stealthy ways. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Point is, it eventually came to a head. We’d be so hopped up on adrenaline after lacrosse most times and one day, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew, we were making out in my room.”

Henry studies Alex’s profile, sees the deep furrow of his brow as if, years later, he’s still trying to understand his actions.

“The first time it happened, I thought that’d be the only time. We were both kinda spooked by it, to be honest. After he left though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it…about how much I actually liked it and wanted it again. For fuck’s sake, I got off thinking about him and our kiss that night. That was the first time I ever got off thinking about a guy.”

Alex sighs.

“I saw him the next day at practice. At first, we kept our distance in the locker room. We went out on the field with everyone else, and played our parts well. Then he showed up at my house afterwards totally unannounced and it became a recurring thing after that. If we celebrated a win or if one of us had a shitty day at practice...we’d keep seeking each other out. It was mostly always just kissing. But every now and then, we’d touch. Nothing over the top. Hell, we’d mostly just get ourselves off together. I think I was too scared to touch him like that. It would have made what we were doing too real somehow.”

Henry listens on quietly, fully present in this moment with Alex.

“We… I chalked it up to goofing around. Just boys being boys or whatever bullshit I used to convince myself it meant nothing. Liam is actually engaged now to a pretty great guy. We’ve talked since high school, you know, about everything. I thought we were just messing around, but he told me how serious it was on his end, even back then. He’d always felt different than our classmates. He always knew this truth about himself even though he was afraid to say it out loud. He genuinely liked me as more than a friend.”

Alex frowns and collects his thoughts.

“Looking back on it, I feel like such an asshole. Liam had real feelings for me and I know now that I was attracted to him, but we were in two totally different headspaces when we were hooking up. Each time, it was reaffirming something for him. He knew fully that he was gay. For me, at the time at least, it just felt like a way of getting off and having fun. He felt like an exception to everything, an anomaly. I still went out with and hooked up with girls regularly, you know. I didn’t know what it actually meant about me that I was in fact drawn to both.”

Alex runs a hand through his hair. 

“I’m glad he and I have had the chance to talk things through. And I’ve apologized to him several times, but it hardly feels like enough. I should have been more careful. I should have seen what that really was. I never meant to hurt him.”

Henry inches forward, his heart breaking as Alex looks at him with wet eyes.

“You’ve done all you can since learning the truth. It wasn’t intentional and I’m sure he knows that. Liam isn’t upset with you, right?”

Alex shakes his head.

“No, but he’d have every reason in the world to be.”

Henry places a hand on Alex’s.

“You can’t beat yourself up over this. You’ve made amends. You were just kids back then. This isn’t easy. You’ve got to give yourself some grace.”

There’s a distant look in Alex’s eyes as he blinks his tears away.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right and logically, I get that. Still, I can’t fully shake it. I can’t help but to wonder what my life would have been like if only I would have realized what it meant that I kept going back to him. Because I really wanted it with him specifically, but it felt like a one-off, like no big deal, you know? If I thought a few guys were attractive, I saw it as just having eyes and being observant. It didn’t feel like some life-altering thing. But in reality? The things I was doing with Liam, the things I wanted to do with him but didn’t have the courage to say…that was a huge turning point and I totally missed it. Sometimes, it almost feels like I was robbed. But it was my own ignorance that kept me in the dark for so long.”

Alex shrugs and looks away and Henry’s heart shatters at once.

“Anyway, that’s a conversation for me and my therapist. I won’t bore you with it any further now,” Alex laughs, but Henry can hear the pain in it. 

He stops the recording. He’s asked enough of Alex tonight.

“It’s never a bore, a bother, or a burden. You can always talk to me. Even if I weren’t tasked with writing out your life’s story, I’d want to listen. I…perhaps it’s improper, but I sincerely do consider you a dear friend, Alex.”

Alex quirks a brow.

“Given the things we’ve done to each other’s bodies, I’d say friendship is the least improper territory we’ve waded into.”

This time Henry laughs as he concedes.

“You’ve got me there,” he relents. 

Alex smiles softly and reaches for Henry’s hand. 

“I appreciate it though. The offer and…you know, you in general. You’re helping me in all sorts of ways, it’s actually kind of crazy. I don’t know if I’ve even said thank you yet, for any of it. But I am grateful for everything.”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to know I can be useful,” Henry says, aiming for levity.

But Alex’s face is serious as he shakes his head and laces their fingers.

“It’s beyond that, Henry. You’re essential to me. I don’t ever want you to forget that.”

[ametistacollinsworld]

❁ Platonic! Frank x Mute! Friend! Female! Anthropomorphic Moth! Reader ❁

My 62 request! Hope you like!

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You were a girl who always knew you had something special- I mean… it's not often you see a Maple Rosy Moth, anthropomorphic and six feet tall… but, since you lived in a world where puppets were a kind of "rare race", we can say that you managed to pass yourself off as a "puppet" and live a "normal" life among humans.

Until one day, you came across a recording studio with puppets! They seemed to be recording for a children's show called "Welcome Home", which seemed to be a huge hit with the kids… of course you decided to sneak onto the recording set… what? You would also be curious and want to go explore wouldn't you?

But, what really made the situation funny was how all the security, staff and even producers mistook you for a puppet! Nobody really questioned why you were there, just assuming you were a new addition to the main cast or simply a special guest character, which was funny to you at the very least… since you don't have the ability to speak, and never had even imagined going that far, but that was still too good for your own amusement, continuing to look around the place curiously.

Until you found a corridor full of doors, where each door was decorated with different colors and designs, having a single star at the top with the name of each character/actor of the cartoon, you guessed. But, the door that most caught your attention was a light gray door, where there were several drawings of butterflies and flowers of different colors, with the name "Frank" in its star, so you decided to go to it and knock softly, trying to see your luck.

" Come in! " A neutral voice called from behind the door, probably "Frank" you concluded, thus, hearing that you can open the door.

" You must be the new makeup artist! You're kind of late- " Frank started talking in a slightly annoyed tone as they turned around, which soon dissipated when they saw you, seeing your vibrant pink and yellow features, along with your beautiful moth wings, antennae and even glowing eyes. The two of you two stared at each other in silence for a second, just scrutinizing each other.

" You're not my new makeup artist… and you're not human or puppet… what are you? You are not a puppet " Frank spoke in a slow tone, possibly trying to stay calm as they looked in your direction.

The puppet's words didn't surprise you too much, after all, you were a strange anthropomorphic moth girl- and they were a real puppet… they should have known you weren't one of them.

You just blinked for a moment, then responding with a simple X sign in your mouth with your fingers, Frank seemed to sigh impatiently crossing their arms.

" Let me analyze the situation.. you are apparently a creature who cannot speak.. who entered to explore the studio by pretending.. rather- Being mistaken for a puppet- Explored the studio this far, and found my dressing room interesting, and decided to try your luck? " Frank spoke in a monologue, finishing their thought by looking at you with questioning eyes, which you smiled at them clapping your hands like a small child.

" Well, you seem nice enough. I don't think you meant it, I guess- You can stay then.. just don't let anyone who's human know you're not a puppet, they probably wouldn't want you here- " Frank did a little monologue once more, only to be interrupted by you giving them a big hug rubbing your furry cheeks against their cheeks, which they tried to pull away from as you made happy cooing sounds.

" I get it! You're happy! But please let me go! Your fur tickles- " Frank spoke in a desperate tone, which you didn't mind, just hugging they very happily. You two would be good friends.

So said, so done! You and Frank ended up becoming good friends, with you paying them visits and even their other friends on set! You ended up getting along very well with everyone, especially Howdy too, who shared characteristics of an insect… and Home- not so much- but you tried to ignore the house for some reason, what is unknown to everyone.

And here you were, in Frank's dressing room once again, just waiting for them, with yet another of your many little moth friends, this one being white in color with black spots, really cute! You've recently been trying to get Frank more interested in moths, after all, you thought your species was so interesting! Plus they look like butterflies too! Why did Frank like butterflies so much and not moths?

After some more time, you finally heard a door sound, seeing Frank enter! You placed your little friend on the table carefully, going towards Frank wanting to hug them, which they quickly returned the hug, already knowing how you liked to hug every time you saw each other.

" It's good to see you too (Y/n), how have you been? " Frank asked in a soft tone, granting you with a rare little smile. You let out happy a cooing confirmation, catching they in a little gyrating hug, which they let out a little giggle.

" Okay, okay.. I get it. You have something to show me, don't you? You seem excited " Frank speaks in a soft tone, which you stop spinning them by nodding, thus putting they on the ground quickly going to the table and carefully picking up your little friend.

'' Oh.. so you brought another one of your friends here? What a surprise '' Frank spoke in a neutral tone with a bit of sarcasm, but they wasn't upset with you, they knew what you were trying to do, or rather- Trying to make them to like moths more.. what they had to admit it was working- You were just so insistent that them couldn't help but want to know more about you or your friends… I mean, moths are related to butterflies aren't they?

'' Ah.. I suppose this is a Hypercompe scribonia? They are really divine, beautiful to admire really '' Frank speaks in a soft tone, giving a small smile without realizing it while holding the small moth that seemed to stare at them. You just stood there, watching as them seemed to chuckle gently petting your little leopard moth friend with care.

You'd expect to get more smiles out of they with your moth friends, but for now… you're going to enjoy the ones you already have.

[sassysophiabush]

I can only describe the calling I felt to join the 2:22 A Ghost Story company as a spiritual one. The pull toward this story & this cast was perhaps was the most intense I’ve felt in my career & the reward of being up on the boards every night was greater than I could have anticipated.

I’m gutted that it’s come to an end. Last month several members of our company were hit with a virus & in the following weeks everyone recovered except for me. After weeks of being intermittently pulled off stage & visiting multiple doctors, specialists, & an all nighter in the ER, I’ve been advised by my medical team in London & America to stop performing in order to get this under control & to do so in the country where I reside under the care of my own doctors. I’m crushed to not be able to finish my run, to have to leave my incredible cast mates & company & to miss the nights on stage with our audiences. It’s been a pleasure to perform for you all on your most special occasions. I’ve loved reading your messages about birthdays & anniversaries spent with us & I wish I could do more. I’m not one who ever leaves early. It’s devastating to say goodbye to an experience that’s been so incredibly fulfilling, both artistically & personally. Being a part of this company put me back in my body and in my soul. I was reminded, on a cellular level, of why I do this job & how much I love acting. I crossed an ocean to come home to myself.

I owe so much gratitude to my incredible cast mates. @jaimewinstone@rickychamp2@cliffordsamuel you are alchemists, healers, confidants, & just the most fun & talented people I know. It’s been a privilege. I feel the same about Andie, Philip, Tan, Lottie, James, and every other member of our incredible company who became fast family. You all have been so supportive through this. I will never be able to express enough gratitude for your care. From ensuring I made it through shows once things got dicey with everything from medicine to flat sodas hidden backstage — even packing my feverish body in ice packs from head to toe on more than one night — you made it less terrifying to be struggling thousands of miles from my home & my family.

To all of the fans who came along, thank you. You made my Lauren journey feel like a party. A wild, joyous, invigorating rush, night after night. I loved making you scream, and making you laugh, and hearing your stories at the stage door. It means the world to me that so many of you traveled to see the show. If you’re booked for future nights, please go support my incredible costars. They will blow you away! I know Frankie Bridge will be incredible through the rest of this run.

I’m sad. Happy. Immensely grateful. There is no greater creative experience than the stage. I miss it madly. I love it deeply. I cannot wait for the next one ♥️

[paldeansunflowers]

Hello, I’m Clementine! I’m a farmer and minor “gym leader” (I say it in quotes because the local kids treat me as one, I’m not certified at all, lol) and I made this blog because I heard others talking about Rotumblr and I thought it would be a nice community to join.:) I’m from Johto originally, but moved to Paldea for the beautiful climate (and Nurse Joy certification)

My birthday is July 14th, and I’m 22 years old- I’ve been living in Paldea since I was 17 (to attend Nurse Joy college)

I have been informed that you are supposed to put your pronouns here too, so mine are she/her:)

I live with my team, two farm dogs, and various Wooloo, torchic, and small Pokémon that like to come visit occasionally. My hobbies include painting, weaving, and chasing those dang Wattrel away from my farm (they try to get at the local Smoliv!!) More blog posts to follow! (Though I cannot work Rotumblr as well as some young people- and I’m also blogging off of a bad internet connection- as I don’t use technology much)

Here’s my trainer card- though I cropped it too much- oops- Bayleef is named Bean, Venesaur is Lady, and Skitty is Junebug. Bean is also my starter, though he’s chronically allergy prone:(.

Anyways, uh, I think that’s more than enough text, so more posts to follow! And in the meantime I’ll figure out how this platform works.

(Ooc and linked post with what Clementine looks like under the cut:>)

Hi, Im Bunnie, and this is an unreality/Pokémon irl blog for one of my ocs! My friend Mayo convinced me to make one so here we go! It’s also kinda an ama blog so you can ask “clementine” anything and I’ll try to stay in character lol (it’s my first character blog)

Oh, and while Clementine is an adult, I (Bunnie) am a minor- so please keep that in mind

Uh that’s all! I don’t think I wanna link a mainblog so uh. Yeah that’s it! Have a good day!!<3

[breakerwhiskey]

142 - ONE HUNDRED FORTY TWO

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

I am…losing my mind. I cannot for the life of me figure out what this means.

Together, it’s 464,010,052…or, I mean, I guess if it’s together, it could be a phone number, though I have no idea if 464 is an area code anywhere…certainly not to my knowledge.

Besides, I do think they’re separate numbers. Which brings me to 4,640 and 10,052…or they’re not values at all. 10052 does look like a zip code and a New York one at that—100 is Manhattan, but, unless I’m seriously misremembering something, there is no 1005. And what would the other number be? An address maybe, 46 40th Street…no East or West but both of them would be Midtown. Or, in the outer boroughs, I guess.

Some kind of code? It’s not any morse code shorthand I know, like CQ or SOS…numbers aren’t really used for that kind of stuff. It could be a book code…page 46, 40th word; page 100, 52nd word but what book would it be?

I wish Harry was here. All those random bits of trivia she has stored in her head, her love of puzzles…she’d be able to see a pattern that I’m not seeing.

…But then she’d probably figure it out and also figure out a reason why we shouldn't trust it or follow it or whatever it is you want us to do with it.

Me. Want me to do with it. Not us. Because she’s not here. Because she didn’t trust me enough to come with me, didn’t trust me to keep her safe, didn’t trust that this journey would be worth taking.

And maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m the one who’s crazy for trusting that a totally new stranger who didn’t even bother to say hello or introduce themselves is worth deciphering a message from but…if I die, I die. There’s only so much uncertainty and loneliness a person can take before they’ll accept any risk.

I could really use a hand here. If you’re trying to tell me something, I’m not gonna get it on my own.

[click, static]

[reginarubie]

The mythology series [Jonsa] ~ The story of Love and Psyche

So, after receiving a couple of lovely anons about some mythology parallels, my interest was piqued and my curiosity started to burn so I literally fell into the rabbit-hole of the possibility of mythology connecting to Jonsa and which characters can be connected to what myth...so yes, a new series of meta was born.

This is what happens when I am left unsupervised, just saying —

Anyway, one of the first metas I wanted to do was this one, connecting the history of Love and Psyche (which can be found inside the Golden Ass — Metamorphosis by Apuleius) and Jonsa especially considering my theory that while several women will fulfil part of Cersei prophecy, in the end Sansa will be the younger, more beautiful queen mainly because Cersei is an envious, spiteful creature and Sansa will end up, most probably, with everything Cersei wanted and no reason to hide (which will be, imo, what the ymbq prophecy is all about ‘to cast you down and take all you hold dear’).

So, without further ado, aside from the usual premises — no, I am not an expert, yes this is all for fun and yes, if you are an expert and know better please feel welcome to leave your input — let's hop onto this and let's see what we get out of it!

The History of Love and Psyche — the prophecy of the younger, more beautiful queen (Apuleius Metamorphosis vs GRRM Asoiaf)

The princess and the hidden winged god — The princess and the hidden dragon ‘prince’.

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.” — Sansa III, AGOT

As always, I cannot stress enough that these pieces of art do not belong to me, so credit to the artists. I just collect them on the net and put them together to make the meta aesthetically appeasing to my tastes, hope you enjoy!

First of all, let's brush up our knowledge of the myth itself.

Love and Psyche (Apuleius, Metamorphosis — the golden ass) history of love and healing and trust

So, the story goes this way, Psyche was the daughter of a king, a princess, and she was so beautiful that she was compared to the goddess Venus, whose beauty she was believed not only to compare but to surpass as well (shrines were risen for her, and she was venerated as the Venus of the earth, no matter the girl modesty, who seemed to be against this), Venus, capricious and spiteful, furious for the comparison and the hubris, ordered her son, Cupid to make the beautiful Psyche fall in love with the ugliest, most hideous man on earth to whom she was to be married with all haste by her people. 

But Cupid, saw Psyche and distracted by her beauty accidentally pinched himself with his own arrow and fell in love with her, thus he instructed the wind (Zephirus) to take her to his enchanted palace of which she would be the mistress as his woman. 

Cupid, for her own safety, joined her only by night and prohibited her to see him — falsely posing as her ugly, monstrous husband — and while she had everything she desired, she still felt lonely as she was essentially alone but for the nights, and she couldn't even see her own husband's face. Cupid, so taken he was by his love for her, was moved by her pleas and let her invite her sisters to her palace for a visit, in fact before this meeting her whole family believed her dead because she had ‘disappeared’, so that she might feel less alone. 

The sisters convince Psyche to discover the truth behind the ‘kind husband’ she seemed to have, to see the truth of his ugliness with her own eyes and spurned by them, Psyche disobeyed Cupid's order and one night took a lantern and shed light to her sleeping husband's face, troubled by his ethereal beauty and in awe she let one drop of melted candle befall on his shoulder rousing him from his sleep. 

Betrayed and angered by her behaviour Cupid left her and flew away, to confess to his mother his indiscretion and betrayal of her order; Psyche, meanwhile, distraught searched for her husband left and right and ended up speaking to Venus herself. 

The woman took the chance immediately to extract her revenge and took the girl as her own servant and slave, mistreating her and imposing of her four terrible, apparently impossible quests. But Psyche beloved by her husband was helped by his servants — ants helped her in her first quest to sort through seeds; a reed counselled her to mow the wool in the night while the men-eater sheep slept and finally an eagle drew water from the Styx for her — at last Venus sent her to retrieve for her a ointment of beauty held by Proserpine. 

Convinced she was to fail she almost flung herself from a tower, but at last she managed to collect the ampoule but was warned not to open it. Her curiosity piqued Psyche opened the ampoule only to fall into an enchanted sleep.

Meanwhile Cupid, sad and missing his wife, went in search of her and found her, he woke her and to protect her from his mother he brought her to Mount Olympus where he convinced Zeus to let her drink the nectar of the gods, making of her a goddess and marrying her publicly before all the Gods. 

How does that fit the Jonsa ship?, well it does. 

I have already spoken of how Cersei fits part of the traits of Venus (x), and if we put in perspective Cersei as Venus (as well as Daenerys does the same with the eastern-values coded Venuses), Tyrion as the hideous man Psyche/Sansa was supposed to fall in love... well, it does start to resemble a pattern.

Let's make a check list to see if we got all the possibilities straight:

spiteful Venus-symbolised character —› Cersei Lannister ☑️

very beautiful, younger woman who is a ‘younger, more beautiful described as modest and polite, collected and courteous’ version of Venus-symbolised character —› Sansa Stark ☑️

said girl is also a princess —› Sansa Stark as princess in the North to her brother, Robb Stark, king in the North ☑️

the Venus-symbolised character decides to ‘punish’ the younger princess and does so by asking her son to have her fall in love and marry an hideous monster —› Joffrey Baratheon, Cersei's son, gives Sansa away in marriage to the Imp ☑️

The ‘son’ is distracted by the girl's beauty and ends up hitting himself with the love-arrow and falls in love with her, then steals her instead of letting her be married and fall in love with the hideous, monstrous man —› Jon and Sansa are both connected with the custom of “stealing” in respect to love, and with Jon being Rhaegar (Cersei' idolised crush) and Lyanna (her unbeatable rival) son could actually fit also the ‘son’ trope, especially Cupid is in some myths depicted as the son of Nyx (the dark-haired goddess of night) ☑️

he remains hidden from her, only sharing her bed during the night and she cannot know his true identity for her own safety from his ‘spurned’ parent —› Jon's real identity is unknown to Sansa, and it might remain for a bit even after Jon learns of it, for safety reasons (Robert's fury would've known no boundaries; and who knows how Daenerys, his aunt, might react to it in the books) as if Sansa doesn't know she cannot be held accountable for it ☑️ 

the princess discovers the truth out of her own curiosity —› Sansa will discover Jon's identity (probably out of her own manoeuvring to understand why Jon's acting strange) ☑️  

Cupid runs back to the ‘spurned’ parent and confesses his ‘treason’ in hope to obtain the trust and absolution of said parent —› Jon might use the rightly timed revelation of his parentage to obtain Daenerys' trust ☑️

The spurned parent (either Cersei or Daenerys — by what happened in the show I might be more inclined to say Daenerys, but by the books I'd be more inclined toward Cersei) asks of the girl (searching for her lost husband) a series of quests and sacrifices —› if we go by the show Daenerys does ask plenty of Sansa, her hospitality as well as her troops without a care of how they are physically, it wouldn't surprise me if either Daenerys or Cersei could try to use Sansa's marriage to Tyrion to close her in a corner and demand of her fealty; Cersei could also impose any kind of request on her, if they ever were to meet again with Cersei having the upper-hand because of the role she thinks Sansa played in the murder of Joffrey ☑️

the family of the girl believes her dead or unreachable —› Sansa Stark is supposed dead and disappeared after Joffrey's death ☑️ 

Psyche manages (with help she gets thanks to her being beloved by her husband's people and her husband) to bring to fruition the quests set before her (I will digress on them later). 

at last Cupid, in love with his wife, finds her when she's in peril, saves her (wakes her) and brings her to safety to go to Zeus (the father of the gods — Ned?, will he asks Ned's statue if what he's doing is correct? Possibly, surely Ned's memory is going to come in play if we ever get a more romantically involved Jonsa) — and his pleas are so endearing to him that he sanctions his favoured nephew's/grandson marriage (in some myths Eros is one of Zeus' cousins/nephews and in others he's his grandson; in any case Zeus is the father of the Gods and thus is the ‘head of Eros' House’ to say it in an asoiaf manner; the same way as Ned was).  

—› It's also possible that Jon might ask his aunt to facilitate his protection of Sansa against Cersei, but I sincerely doubt this other possibility. Also, Ned fits better as he is often representing the Father of the Seven Gods of the Faith of the Seven. —› Jon saves Sansa (and the rest of his siblings) from a threat that will have them all put to death (and death is eternal sleep) in the show, and in the books we have evidence that this will be repeated as Jon dies the ultimate Stark protector (as he is killed because he chooses to run to his sister, Arya's aide), he will probably serve a similar purpose even toward Sansa in the books once he has reawaken from death.

So, to me it looks like a pattern, does it to you?

Let's see if other quotes (both from book and show, but if they are taken from the show I'm taking earlier seasons since back then Martin was still pretty much involved so we can consider them canon) can further this conviction of mine.

A princess of maidenly majesty and a spurned goddess

So, in the myth Psyche is the daughter of a king, a princess, of the land of the west, so beautiful and maidenly majestic that there was no other beauty that could surmount her on earth (in their lands) and this spurned the people of the city to be devout to her and come to see her and love her, admiring her beauty and showering her in tokens going to the point they venerate her, to the point they stopped venerating Venus and started venerating her, though Psyche felt her beauty as a curse as she was alone (as no one seemed to love her for herself but love her divine beauty) still the fact that men had forgotten her and preferred another to her, had Venus in a rage. 

There was sometimes a certain king, inhabiting in the west parts, who had to wife a noble dame, (...) yet, the singular passing beauty and maidenly majesty of the youngest daughter, did so far surmount and excel them two, as no earthly creature could by any means sufficiently express or set out the same (...)

Now, that Sansa is the daughter of Ned Stark (descent and father to kings) and of lady Catelyn Tully (a noble lady of a great House) it's known thing, she's also a princess to her brother, Robb Stark and she fits this trope of maidenly majesty perfectly, also:

(...) Psyche will all of her beauty received no fruit of her honour. She was wondered at of all, praised of all, but she perceived that no king nor prince, no any of the inferior sort did repair to woo her (...) the virgin Psyche sitting at home alone, lamented her solitary life, and being disquieted both in mind and body, although she pleased all the world, yet hated she in herself her own beauty.

There are a couple of passages that remind me of these, but some of it comes from the show as well. We know that Martin was very much involved in the first few seasons of the series so I feel like by citing some of the scenes of the earlier seasons of the show we are also speaking of canon, as they were supervised and accepted by Martin. 

For one, the scene of Sansa at the docks with LF, with Shae and Ros speaking behind them, and Ros asking Shae to defend Sansa and protect her from her enemies, telling the other woman that she was born in Winter town and that the day Sansa was born they rang the bells from sunrise to sunset, which always suggested to me how beloved Sansa as Ned Stark's daughter was, on the principle of her being Ned's daughter, and because of her charming nature as well. We usually focus more on people of the north loving Arya but I think that is intention by GRRM because it's something both Arya and Sansa focus upon and it will come back in with a whiplash when Sansa reaches the North and finds that love and belonging she had been searching South, there where she had been before. 

For second the scene during the Battle of  the Black waters, when Cersei asks Sansa, in bookTyrion fashion, what she's doing and when Sansa replies she's praying, Cersei demands, nastily “You're perfect, don't you?”; which always struck me as strange, since in the books this conversation happens before the siege and it's between Tyrion and Sansa and there is none of the nastiness the show gave us, though I think, again that it was intentional to set up Sansa and Cersei as the younger and older queen. 

The thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. — Sansa VI, ASOS

This quote makes me think of Psyche, sitting alone and lonely, and feeling unloved personally even if they love her ‘divine beauty’/‘claim’. 

—› also, Lysa herself can also fulfil part of the role of Venus, as she herself is envious and spiteful and jealous of Sansa because she feels like Sansa is stealing her husband; in the same way as Cersei was fearful that Sansa might be the younger, more beautiful queen of the prophecy. And she too tries to marry Sansa to someone that doesn't fit the premises of the promise Ned made Sansa (Robert Arryn).

Lysa was as lonely as she was (...) I am not going back to sleep, Sansa realized. My head is all a tumult.  — Sansa VII, ASOS

I guess this doesn't need explanation really, Sansa's head is in tumult like Psyche's. 

No prayers are answered here, she often thought, though some days she felt so lonely she had to try (...) The Eyrie was such a lonely place that she was eager for any bit of news from the world beyond, however trivial or insignificant. — Alayne II, AFFC

Also, Sansa has long since learned to see how people don't wish to know her but just exploit her claim and her position and the perception they have of her as a weak link, as when she thinks of Margaery's retinue and of how they are putting up a farce, but they don't actually wish to know her in truth. 

Sansa's wish for love, is also remarkably similar to Psyche wishing to be loved for herself and not for her divine beauty; also, I always associated Psyche hating her beauty with Sansa begrudging her own naïveté:

“The night’s first traitors,” the queen said, “but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning.” As they left, she turned to Sansa. “Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.” 

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

— Sansa VII, ACOK

They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They've never seen a battle, they've never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her father's head off. Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them. — Sansa II, ASOS

“You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent.(...)” — Sansa I, AFFC

Cersei, in a first moment, believes Sansa's is the younger, more beautiful queen of the prophecy and I have already digress as to why I think Sansa in a sense will be it, because she will achieve everything Cersei wanted without the need to hide it, while the others might, instead fulfil other pieces of the prophecy (x), and I think it's so also because of this specific quote:

"Please," she finished, "you have to let me marry Joffrey, I'll be ever so good a wife to him, you'll see. I'll be a queen just like you, I promise."  — Sansa IV, AGOT

Can I take a moment to appreciate that to Sansa her first wish is that of love over that of power?, how are displayed her priorities as she begs Cersei?

being a ‘ever so good wife’ to Joffrey (love)

being a queen (good) just like Cersei (power and love)

Love comes first. No wonder Sansa will probably end up being truly the younger, more beautiful queen.

I feel like Cersei' reaction in the show at this heartfelt declaration gives us quite the introspective tumble in Cersei's mind:

See how perturbed she is by it?, imo it is another nudge to Sansa ending up with everything Cersei wanted for herself, without having to hide. 

Anyway, back on track. 

The beautiful maiden condemned to be married and fall in love with an hideous, monstrous looking man 

In asoiaf is more complex than Venus simply condemning Psyche and her family for her hubris (though that comes in place as well, as it becomes a matter of how dare the Starks turn from loyal bannermen to the king, Joffrey, to rebelling kings?), in the end the result is the same, though. Cersei's son, Joffrey gives Sansa away as bride to his uncle, the Imp, who is rendered even more monstrous by the scar on his face.

"I won't ask for whom." His mouth twisted oddly; if that was a smile, it was the queerest she had ever seen. "This day may change all. For you as well as for House Lannister. I ought to have sent you off with Tommen, now that I think on it. Still, you should be safe enough in Maegor's, so long as—" — Sansa V, ACOK

"My lady," Tyrion said, "you are lovely, make no mistake, but... I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little." His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.

Look at him, Sansa told herself, look at your husband, at all of him, Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try. She stared at the stunted legs, the swollen brutish brow, the green eye and the black one, the raw stump of his nose and crooked pink scar, the coarse tangle of black and gold hair that passed for his beard. Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this to me, how? — Sansa III, ASOS

Sansa is married off to the Imp, while albeit gentle from time to time (and I've already discussed how this ‘kindness’ is basic human decency and even there he somewhat falls short in a previous ask that compared Jaime and Brienne bath scene and Tyrion and Sansa wedding night scene, x) is monstrous looking and has done monstrous things, Martin himself describes him as a villain. And, who marries her off to the Imp?, Cersei is there when Sansa prepares for her wedding to show her off and Joffrey, Cersei's son walks Sansa down the aisle, making sure Sansa is married off to Tyrion in the same way as Venus asked Cupid to have Psyche fall in love and marry an hideous and monstrous looking man.

When the moonstones hung from Sansa’s ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. “Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle.” “What gargoyle?” Sansa did not understand.

Can we take a moment to speak about this?, Cersei is spiteful that she herself is supposed to be marrying again and with someone she doesn't want — she even begs her lord father not to make her do it again, not that he cares — and takes her victories where she can. The use of the word ‘almost obscene’ makes us see the satisfaction in her, Sansa will never be the younger, more beautiful queen and Cersei can focus on keeping Margaery in her place without worrying about Sansa. And she even japes at her expanses.

—› What more the use of the term ‘gargoyle’, an hideous creature whose scary face is used to inspire fear used in respect to Tyrion hints toward two things: a) Tyrion being the monstrous man Sansa should marry and love if Cersei had her way (to keep her un-rebelling) and b) Tyrion ending up being the one who pushes Daenerys down the last step of the stair she is already descending (as there are gargoyles on the walls of Dragonstone, together with wyverns and dragons).

Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain. A maiden's cloak. Sansa's hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared. "You're prettier with your mouth closed, Sansa," Cersei told her. "Come along now, the septon is waiting. And the wedding guests as well."

And reality hits Sansa, until that moment she was unaware she was supposed to marry Tyrion, they ambushed her and Cersei was the one to tell her of her ‘condemnation’ to marry the Imp (just like Venus was the one who condemned Psyche)

“No,” Sansa blurted. “No.” “Yes. You are a ward of the crown. The king stands in your father’s place, since your brother is anattainted traitor. That means he has every right to dispose of your hand. You are to marry my brother Tyrion.” My claim, she thought, sickened. Dontos the Fool was not so foolish after all; he had seen the truth of it. Sansa backed away from the queen. “I won’t.” I’m to marry Willas, I’m to be the lady of Highgarden,please . . . “I understand your reluctance. Cry if you must. In your place, I would likely rip my hair out. He’s a loathsome little imp, no doubt of it, but marry him you shall.” “You can’t make me.” “Of course we can. You may come along quietly and say your vows as befits a lady, or you may struggle and scream and make a spectacle for the stableboys to titter over, but you will end up wedded and bedded all the same.” The queen opened the door. Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Osmund Kettleblack were waiting without, in the white scale armor of the Kingsguard. “Escort Lady Sansa to the sept,” she told them. “Carry her if you must, but try not to tear the gown, it was very costly.”

Doesn't this make you think of a sacrifice? The ‘sacrifice’ Psyche became to make sure Venus' ire was quenched? It does to me.

“I’ll go.” Cersei smiled. “I knew you would.”

(...)

Joffrey himself was waiting for her on the steps of the castle sept. The king was resplendent in crimson and gold, his crown on his head. "I'm your father today," he announced. "You're not," she flared. "You'll never be." His face darkened. "I am. I'm your father, and I can marry you to whoever I like. To anyone. You'll marry the pig boy if I say so, and bed down with him in the sty." His green eyes glittered with amusement. "Or maybe I should give you to Ilyn Payne, would you like him better?" Her heart lurched. "Please, Your Grace," she begged. "If you ever loved me even a little bit, don't make me marry your—" — Sansa III, ASOS

So, Cersei and Joffrey (Venus and Cupid) marry Sansa to the hideous looking Imp, and he later abuses emotionally (as I've said in the post linked above when I consider the bath scene of Jaime and Brienne and the wedding night of Sansa and Tyrion, so I won't digress further here).

The stealing of Psyche ~ the maiden and the thief, or the maiden is the thief?

In the myth Cupid distracted by Psyche beauty ends up pinching himself with his own arrow and falls helplessly in love with Psyche, thus, refusing to have her marry the hideous looking man, he has his servant, the wind (Zephyr) steal her away from her wedding and brought to his enchanted palace.

Both Jon and Sansa are connected with the theme of the custom of stealing in the thematic of love, and what more... they both are connected with bird imaginery: Jon as a crow (and his red-head crow wife, but I digress) and Sansa as a little bird/little dove.

 She ran her fingers lightly across his stomach. "I feared you'd do the same once. Fly back to the Wall. You never knew what t' do after you stole me." Jon sat up. "Ygritte, I never stole you." "Aye, you did. You jumped down the mountain and killed Orell, and afore I could get my axe you had a knife at my throat. I thought you'd have me then, or kill me, or maybe both, but you never did. And when I told you the tale o' Bael the Bard and how he plucked the rose o' Winterfell, I thought you'd know to pluck me then for certain, but you didn't. You know nothing, Jon Snow." She gave him a shy smile. "You might be learning some, though." — Jon III, ASOS

First, Jon is again connected to the bird imaginery and flying away from Ygritte, then Ygritte claims he has stolen her to which he replies he hasn't and Ygritte tries to convince him he has, and ends up admitting he might be learning something. Spoiler alert: that knowledge won't be used on Ygritte.

"I look forward to a spirited discussion." Ser Roland swung down from his horse, turned to Alayne, and smiled. "I had heard that Lord Littlefinger's daughter was fair of face and full of grace, but no one ever told me that she was a thief." “You wrong me, ser, I am no thief!” Ser Roland placed his hand over his heart. "Then how do you explain this hole in my chest, from where you stole my heart?" — Alayne I, WOW

Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow. — Sansa VII, ASOS

All the while Sansa is disguising herself as LF's baseborn daughter and LF's personal sigil is the mockingbird, again with the bird imaginery (and Sansa has just fled KL, and people already are saying she flew away from the keep as a wolf with bat-like wings). I've already spoken about the romantic hue given to the quote from Sansa VII, ASOS in a previous ask, x; and of how it hints to both Jon and Sansa and their possible romance coming in the coming books, tho, as I've stated more than once, I wouldn't be surprised if Martin keeps it mostly inward and leaves the finale open (like in the show) for a further development beyond the Dream of Spring.

Also, as I have discussed previously (x) Sansa is foreshadowed to help her cousin Jon (of whom she hears the grief of death — and probably shall hear his awakening as well but I am digressing) leading him by the hand and talking him through peril and winter, thanks to stories of knightly valour.

Will Sansa be stolen from Baelish (and whoever he means to marry her to, to forward his plans) and his plans, thanks to Jon? She already is, and all the while Jon isn't even near her, yet.

As I've said in a previous ask (x) Jon is already saving Sansa from LF and his plans for her. LF is trying to isolate her, become her sole relator of news and her only informant, if he is the one giving her what information he wants, he controls what she knows and thus what she does. But he has underestimated Sansa and the loyalty of the Royces to the Starks the their cause (why they were furious they couldn't join Robb and his cause and loved Ned), in fact Sansa learns from Randa that not only Jon is alive, but that he has also made Lord Commander of the NW, and this happens shortly after she thinks she would flee both LF and Petyr (the mask and the man) if she only had somewhere to run to, someone to run to as she thinks that Lysa, who was supposed to keep her safe tried to kill her instead, so no place is safe...and boom here strides Jon Snow, newly named lord commander of the NW, and also “Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa” — to quote show Sansa: someone better offering (not that she knows of, yet) a better chance for Sansa survival and happiness and safety; someone she cares for “it would be so sweet to see him once again”, someone who literally died for a Stark girl (Arya — Jeyne) and will be ready to fight for the Starks again.

The hidden spouse

I've lost count of how many fics I've read with this trope I adore, and Jon marrying Alayne to gather the help of the Vale for Stannis or for himself, and while I adore them, I think in canon the point shall be the reversal.

Jon is an hidden Targaryen, an hidden ‘prince’ (depending on wether he's true born or not, which remains to be seen) and no one but his parental figure is aware of it, for safety reasons Sansa (and Jon himself) is unaware of his true identity. It wouldn't surprise me if Jon learned the truth about his parentage and did not reveal it to Sansa immediately, mostly a) so that it could be used politically to free the North of whatever vow Jon might take b) for safety reasons, if Sansa didn't know she cannot be held accountable for the truth of Jon's parentage (it wouldn't surprise me if Jon considered that to protect her brothers Sansa could out him and his parentage — in a parallel way as to Ned inability to trust Cat with the safety of Jon when her children were put in danger — though I am inching more to a Jon wanting to keep Sansa's slate clean, though he is a bit brooding so he might brood about the possibility of Sansa not loving him anymore if he isn't her brother and her true brothers come along, alive and well — it'd be the kind of angst Martin would write).

If we see his feelings develop for Sansa, inwardly that will be especially in the beginning, and he kept that secret from her, and is even unaware of it himself still, we'd see a besotted knight with his lady sister (who fits his every wish) love, but whose identity is absconded from either only Sansa or both of them.

If his name ends up to be Aemon which can be linked both to an old Gaelic version of Edmund (meaning wealthy/fierce protection) and an ancient egyptian version of Amon (meaning hidden one) ... and he fits both the meanings:

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.” — Sansa III, AGOT

With all of textual evidences linking Jon with Aemon Dragonknight (and Sansa with Naerys), bigger clue we could not find.

The betrayal of trust

In the myth Psyche (feeling lonely albeit loved) convinced by the sisters (who are envious of her love for her husband) violates her husband' prohibition and out of curiosity she breaks his trust and learns the truth of his identity.

As opposed, to defend him and their family, show Sansa ‘betrayed’, tho I already disproved it as a betrayal of trust (x) I don't recuse to Jon it might feel that way initially, the secretive nature of Jon's parentage.

In the book it might be reserved, Jon using the knowledge of his parentage without telling Sansa before which would made her feel betrayed about it (as she felt betrayed by him basically giving away her birthright — a birthright bookJon defended — Bran's birthright to a foreign conqueror).

If only the show (or the book) ended in a marriage (like the myth) we'd have the perfect parallel.

The quests — healing and love transcending any kind of adversity

So, Psyche has violated Cupid's prohibition and the god has flown to his mother and confess his crimes against her (because he feels betrayed).

Psyche, distraught over her husband's departure, searches for him everywhere and ends up in Venus' service, ready to do anything to get her husband back:

If you look outside the walls of your city, you'll find thousands of Northmen who will explain to you why harming Jon Snow is not in your interest. — Sansa Stark, s8e6 GoT

Venus puts her through a series of quests to pay for her crime and earn forgiveness, and she's helped to fulfil them all by her husband's servants and friends.

And by considering each quest I swear we have to laugh because they are literally built for Sansa— or can be applied to Sansa as well.

Sort through mixed seeds of grain, successful thanks to the help of ants —› Sansa is the de facto lady of the Eyrie now in the books and she ensuring the the Eyrie and its court survive winter, that means that they must prepare their store, and it's not a chance that in the show she's basically the only one whose shown to worry about the state of the stores for winter and the comfort of the soldiers who will fight for them. Why do I speak of the soldiers as well?, why because of this:

Soldiers crawled over the city walls like ants with torches, and crowded the hoardings that had sprouted from the ramparts. — Sansa IV, ACOK

Around the walls the hosts of Lords Declarant were stirring, emerging from their tents like ants from an anthill. If only they were truly ants, she thought, we could step on them and crush them. — Alayne I, AFFC

The gaunt outlines of huge catapults and monstrous wooden cranes stood sentry up there, like the skeletons of great birds, and among them walked men in black as small as ants (...). — Jon III, AGOT

Some were tearing great holes in the half-frozen ground, while others trained for war. He watched as a swarming mass of riders charged a shield wall, astride horses no larger than ants (...) — Jon VII, ACOK

Jon watched the riders go from atop the Wall—three parties, each of three men, each carrying a pair of ravens. From on high their garrons looked no larger than ants, and Jon could not tell one ranger from another. He knew them, though. Every name was graven on his heart. — Jon VI, ADWD

—› Might I also point out a contrast?

The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many …It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he'd built it himself. — Daenerys X, ADWD

Interesting, isn't it? I wonder what it might mean —

Anyway, back to this:

Sansa: the men we have left are exhausted, many of them are wounded. They'll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate. Daenerys: how long do you suggest? Sansa: I can't say for certain, not without talking to the officers.

—› may I point out that this (☝🏽) is something Daenerys as queen should've done?, and if she hadn't she should've had her men, the people in her retinue do it in her stead, to make sure of the condition of her armies beyond the number and decide how to move forward? Had she listened to Sansa Rhaegal would've had more time to recuperate and maybe he would've been able to avoid being killed, because his reflexes would've been better, more camaraderie would've been born between the diverse troops which compose her army, and she would've had more time to move politically against Cersei, which could've unseat her without the need to military attack KL, or they could've had time to find an alternative solution. As we say in Italy ‘you've done thirty, do thirty-and-one’, you've waited several years to take the throne, wait a bit more. If you want to be more than a conqueror and an invader you have to give the people time to see you as such.

Daenerys: I came north to fight alongside you, [you claim to be the queen of the North as well, fight for it should be only your duty, especially after its king bent the knee] at great cost to my armies and myself, now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone. [no, she wants to win with less losses as possible, something that should be foremost in your mind — but I've already digressed on how her armies are only a mean to an end for Daenerys and I won't digress further here] Sansa: it's not just our people, is yours. You want to throw them into a war they're not ready to fight. Daenerys: the longer I leave my enemies alone, the stronger they became [so do you!!!!!] — s8e4, GoT

I won't digress on how Jon backing Daenerys theatrically against the safety of his own people is out of character for him and hints toward pol!Jon, only the show has not shown his inner thoughts; I won't digress on how Jon backing Daenerys theatrically against the safety of his own people is out of character for him (just look at him thinking of the rangers and knowing their names by heart even when he knows he might be sending them to their deaths, c'mooooooon!). I won't do it. Not here, anyway, but it is pretty blatant, in my opinion.

Those aren't the only evidences given to us by the show either, Sansa worries for the state of the stores during winter, she worries for how to feed everyone, she worries that the soldiers have the warmest armours they can have (but this last bit connects better with the second task set on Psyche).

So between the hint given by the text and what the show showed us, is very possible that Daenerys or Cersei (whoever has the upper hand in that moment over the Starks) might demand allegiance and military solidarity of them, even when the northmen are exhausted and not ready. But most that anything, the fact that Sansa thinks of the lord Declarants and their troops as well as defending soldiers as ants crawling around and the connection with ants helping Psyche sorting the seeds, make me think that Sansa might have to use the knights of the Vale not only to take back the North, but also to try and keep it whole and safe as Daenerys and Cersei wage war against one another (or Aegon as well).

gather an hank of wool from a golden men-eating sheep, managed thanks to an helpful reed who tells her a secret the allows her to fulfil the task —› can you hear me laughing all the way where you are?, because I am, this is that obvious. I mean, an helpful reed tells her the secret to hank the wool from the men-eating sheep is to do so during the night, when the sheep is more docile and less prone to attack. Howland Reed is possibly the only man in existence aware of the true identity of Jon Snow, and we all know he has kept that knowledge silent for decades, and that he and his family are loyal to the marrow to the Starks. Wouldn't Howland Reed (if Jon failed to tell her) tell her the truth about Jon's parentage and hidden identity, to make sure the North, and House Stark survive unscathed?; also wool, again an hint toward taking care of her people, Sansa is all about her duties and she has shadowed Cat Stark in her lady endeavours, she knows what are her duties.

But listening to people you'd rather not listen to is one of your responsibilities as Lord of Winterfell — Maester Luwin

Sansa: I listen to their complaints which is my responsibility as the lady of Winterfell.

—› The last seasons of the show might have butchered entire plots and characters, but this (☝🏽) this is Sansa, without any single doubt.

And it has textual evidences as well in the books:

Sansa was made of sterner stuff. A great lady knew how to behave at tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval. — Sansa II, AGOT

"No, it gives me joy to kill people." His mouth twitched. "Wrinkle up your face all you like, but spare me this false piety. You were a high lord's get. Don't tell me Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell never killed a man." "That was his duty. He never liked it." — Sansa IV, ACOK

“Now, don't you have some duties to perform?" She did indeed. She saw to the mulling of the wine first, found a suitable wheel of sharp white cheese, and commanded the cook to bake bread enough for twenty, in case the Lords Declarant brought more men than expected. Once they eat our bread and salt they are our guests and cannot harm us. The Freys had broken all the laws of hospitality when they'd murdered her lady mother and her brother at the Twins, but she could not believe that a lord as noble as Yohn Royce would ever stoop to do the same. — Alayne I, AFFC

"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had." "Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders. — Alayne I, AFFC

Still, it would not serve. On the valley floor autumn still lingered, warm and golden, but winter had closed around the mountain peaks. They had weathered three snowstorms, and an ice storm that transformed the castle into crystal for a fortnight. The Eyrie might be impregnable, but it would soon be inaccessible as well, and the way down grew more hazardous every day. — Alayne II, AFFC

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave. And no sooner did she tell Petyr her idea than he went out and made it happen. — Alayne I, WOW

She knows by heart both the duties of a lord and a lady, she knows the duties of a warden and his lady wife, of a king and his consort (as she was educated to be the future queen); she knows the duties the head of an House must perform as well (as the history of Westeros has told us that at times women have had to carry on their family lines and act as Heads and take husbands to give them their name). She knows them by heart. And she's born to fulfil them, it's what she has always done and tried to do.

fill a crystal vessel with the water of a spring that feeds the Styx and Cocytus with the help of an eagle —› now, Sansa is, in the last book, acting de facto great lady of the Eyrie and is the parental figure of Robert Arryn (whose banner displays a falcon — another bird of prey same as the eagle) and we know she is diplomatically creating a situation in which she is perceived as a defender of her cousin (creating the Winged Knights) as well as a better option than plotting and not trustworthy LF (especially since it's very possible that the Royces already know of her true identity); also, one of the Houses of the Riverlands, House Mallister, has displayed on their banner an eagle, and they were loyal to Robb's cause, right now its Head and his heir are prisoners of the Freys in Seagard, in the northern Riverlands, and which could provide (if they ever manage to break free — Blackfish what are you doing?) for Sansa Stark, Cat Tully's daughter and the sister of king Robb Stark safe passage home to the North.

—› also, Petrek Mallister, the heir to Seagard, is a good friend to Edmure Tully (Cat's beloved brother) and has, between his many interests, also that of hawking (a skill we've seen Sansa also possesses, as she's gone hawking with Margaery in KL) again a skill of conjecture between man-and-bird-of-prey. Will Sansa get their help and their loyalty out of love for Robb and Catelyn/Edmure? It's possible.

Retrieving a beauty treatment from the queen of the underworld, Proserpine, managed thanks to the help of a speaking tower —› at last, seen that Psyche had fulfilled all tasks Venus had set on her, the goddess gives her one last task, that the girl herself is convinced to fail to the point she almost throws herself off a tower.

The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. — Arya XIII, ASOS

But the tower stops her from killing herself and tells her not only how to find the entryway to the Underworld, but also how to get around Charon and Cerberus, but especially how to behave toward the underworld Queen, Proserpine.

My point is, some of the Freys (whose banner are the twin towers) have been sent away from the Twins, because they were considered too loyal to Robb and his cause. Will one of them flock to Sansa Stark's side and help her? Is not absurd to believe, since their own kin have shunned them because they were too loyal to Robb. Will the ‘speaking tower’ help her get through the Twins (Charon and Cerberus) guarding the rivers (as they did in the myth) and back North?

Proserpine and her trick

Proserpine, the goddess of the underworld, is the roman version of the greek Persephone/Kore, but that, in this myth takes a bit of the darkness of her husband (as I've said already in my meta about Sansa and the myths she might embody Persephone had a very dark side, to the point we used to say that it was better to end up before Hades during spring and summer — when Persephone was not there to fulfil her duties as queen — then in fall and winter, when she was and would give the punishment as she saw fit — the Erinni, who are the personification of vengeance are her daughters and answer to her; also in some myths Persephone/Proserpine is considered Zeus' daughter with Styx, the personification of the river of hate and this is the personification Apuleius goes with).

Appearing gentle and humouring the human wife of Cupid, Proserpine lets her retrieve the ointment, but warns her not to open it. Psyche, filled with curiosity opens it, intent on using it if necessary, and ends up falling into a death-like sleep.

The more dark version of Proserpine I have always associated with Melisandre, why?, because Proserpine often was invoked for necromancy and Melisandre, who is a sorceress who uses blood-magic; and Proserpine was known for her role in delivering punishments to those who came in the Underworld.

We know, by the show, that Mel will have a hand in returning Jon Snow from death, and most possibly will try and manipulate him and possibly Sansa to bring forth her visions like she did with Stannis. It wouldn't surprise me if Melisandre would try to deceive Sansa.

The death-like sleep, a reversal, an healed love

In the myth of Cupid and Psyche, after she has fallen into the death-like sleep Cupid manages to wake her with a kiss and by rousing her. I have said more than once that it wouldn't surprise me if in the books, once Jon returns from death he will, similarly as lady Stoneheart and Beric Dondarrion, as well as, imo, Daenerys Targaryen be single-minded focused on one purpose, the one with which he has died in mind. Defending the Stark girl(s). Which will make him play dirty (and we all know how much bookJon is capable of playing dirty when necessary, he's a menace) to make sure they survive and are happy.

In the show we're shown how Jon has lost his identity since waking up from death, he kills his assassins and then proceeds to abandon everything to ‘get warm’ which is extremely out of character of the man who chose his duty to the North as the blood of Winterfell over the woman he had ‘fallen in love’ (it's called Stockholm syndrome, btw) and it's only when Sansa finds him that Jon has a new purpose.

Sansa: where will you go? Jon: where will we go, if I don't watch over you father's ghost will come back and murder me. — s6e4, GoT

Jon has already found his purpose. Keep Sansa safe.It's only when Sansa points out that Winterfell is theirs, and Bran and Rickon's and Arya's and that they will never be safe if they don't take it back, that she'll do it alone if he won't help that he decides to move for Winterfell. This hints, imo, the possibility that in the book resurrected Jon will move for Winterfell in an attempt to save fake Arya, only to come up short when it's actually Jeyne, then when he meets with Sansa he will shift all of that defence and protectiveness he woke up with, to Sansa. Cue in possible romantic feelings and we probably will see Jon starting to slowly come back to himself as if Sansa is rousing him (singing him — courteous love both of them wish for, as I've said numerous times) back to his hold self, something he will have to hold onto when everything he thought he knew about himself come crashing down with the truth of his parentage.

A reversal of Cupid rousing Psyche and then taking her back to Olympus where she drinks the ambrosia, the nectar that gives her immortality and makes of her a goddess (a pregnant one at that). Kind of like, possibly, Sansa might end up giving Jon the Stark name (his own ambrosia, granting him immortality as a Stark, one way or another — either by fame, and decree, as hinted by the crypt teaser where Jon's statue is put along the one of Sansa the qitn and Arya the hero of Winterfell, on the consort's side of Sansa — or by marrying him and making of him a Stark through marriage as both of their arc also hinge on the fact of having children to inherit Winterfell who look like their siblings).

The trust between Cupid and Psyche is healed, because of love, because of the length Psyche went for that love, and because of Cupid's inability to stay away from Psyche.

And the show did give us a mutated (less obvious because of the lack of inner thoughts) version of this ending:

[yes, I totally forgot to have the gif dissolve in black when they enter and they finish in the first gif, but I am too lazy now to change it, my bad]

So, yes, I would say that the myth of Cupid and Psyche does seem to hold some parallel with Jonsa. What do you all think?, as always thank you for bearing with me until the end of this meta, hope you enjoyed!

You can find my other mythology essays here:

Cersei vs Daenerys — Venus decoded

Sansa and the mythological figures she embodies (Persephone/Kore, Isis, Medusa, Gunnlöd, Psyche) — the Myth of Sansa Stark

Jonsa mythology (2) — Jonsa foreshadowing, part IX: Osiris and Isis

[gutzjunkie]

Mod Introduction because How Have I Not Done This

Hiii, I'm Lee, texture artist, Fu Hua appreciator & enby (they/them) with the 'tism! My username is the same basically anywhere and everywhere under the sun but I will pop my carrd and my neocities here as a just in case for those who wish to find me, let alone after all the years I've spent lurking here. This post will be updated and edited as time goes on

Now for the Dos and Don'ts...how...how to put these

MY BLOG IS A SAFE SPACE FOR ME, NOT FOR YOU and I cannot stress that kind of thing enough

Do be forewarned I Am Autistic so there is a 99.9% chance social cues can and will bounce off my brain like world's bounciest trampoline.

If you are openly homophobic, transphobic, or ableist, I can and WILL be blocking you. This also applies to Trump supporters and the like. If you post full-on gore or send me gore this also applies to you

A light quote from the words of my husband, "if you believe mental health is a sham, Go Outside™" because I guarantee you're not a medical professional if you're spreading that on the internet.

If you have any problems with me please let me know in dms before starting drama. I'm old, booze legal, and mentally tired from people spreading misinformation on purpose because they get a kick out of it.

Do not slide into dms without proper context because if you send something not on topic I will literally sit there like "????"

Do bring a good attitude to your asks, because as aforementioned earlier the 'tism will not grab proper social cues

Please do send asks about my special interests and hyperfixations because I Will Not Hesitate To Gush About Them (especially if it is the wife)

Onto the special interests because Smart

Honkai Impact 3rd

Honkai Gakuen 2/Guns Girl Z

Honkai Star Rail

Genshin Impact

Angelic Layer

Vocal Synths (Vocaloid, UTAU, & the like)

Rats. Yes as in the animal (They need to start living for more than 3-5 years or else I Will Cry)

2D & 3D art (I dabble in both)

Voice Acting

VTubing

Battlebots

MikuMikuDance

Unity (The game engine)

Old Tech

J-rock

HTML coding

List of commonly used tags:

#Gutzspeaks is as the name suggests, a general tag for when I say something or respond to an ask

#The Wife is anything Fu Hua related

#The Husband is for hubby dearest @noxs-daydream heehee

Those who visit my blog often will more likely than not get their own tag :) anons will be tagged as they are

[422220]

✰ INTRO.

HELLO, hi, i finally got some energy to do this so here it is. EVERYBODY LIKE THIS TO PLOT OR I WILL RIOT!!! love me and kija, please, i beg. he's literally the softest man outside of the practice room but he will reign terror if you don't take his lessons seriously. definitely #DADDY because look at him but also like he gives good advice and will baby anyone younger than him. oh, and, he has a kid too. ASKSDLSDKFJSADJKL okay but on a serious note, thank you guys for being patient with me and i seriously cannot wait to write with all of your amazing muses. :D <3

I JUST TALKED FOR 3 HOURS, I KNOW, BUT LISTEN… kija is heavily inspired by hobi himself. jhope is someone i look to for comfort (he isn't called hope for nothing) so i thought i'd build a comfort character off of him. i'd say he leans more towards the more mature version of hobi, the one with a tamer aesthetic and personality, than his earlier fashion and image. (but no shade, hope world was iconic and when i started falling in love with his personality!) i also feel it's easier for me to write and relate to as i'm an anxious introvert. ADNJSKASDJSADJKL

kija was born in the bustling city of seoul, his mother was a famous tv personality that moved into journalism as she got older. (inspo is lisa ling tbh) and his father worked in the fashion industry with a focus on luxury accessories.

kija is a native of the city but he has a deep love for the countryside as that is where his grandparents retired to and he grew up visiting there. [sidenote: his comfort movie is my neighbor totoro because the setting reminds him a lot of their home!]

he has an older brother, kyubok, known as 'kyu' in the idol industry. he is a famous boy group member that debuted in the 2nd generation and was known for his dancing skill. (think taemin and shinee)

his grandfather was the first one in his family to enter the industry, he was a reporter for the kyunghyang shinmun newspaper and made special appearances on news channels. so being in the industry was like a second language to him from childhood.

kija was good enough in school, he managed to keep a to b- grades and out of trouble; he wasn't the best in math but excelled in english due to his artistic nature. he also enjoyed learning about history and geology and certain science topics. (i'm picturing him being the geeky but nice kid that wore dinosaur shirts and khaki cargo shorts when he was like six. #norizz)

kija enjoyed music as well but didn't take it that seriously until he was older, picking up the drums in middle school before taking an interest in dance and music production in high school. his brother was meant to be an idol and kija felt pressured to follow in his steps so he started dancing lessons in freshman year but truthfully, kija is introverted and has had an anxiety disorder since childhood.

here's the sad bit. *insert the tiniest violin ever* OKAY, SERIOUSLY, his grandmother passed away when he was fifteen and this completely shattered him. his low self-esteem combined with the loss of one of his closest family members messed with his mental health to a severe extent. he began to act out, acting recklessly, spending a lot of time drinking and smoking weed.

after being pressured to enter the company as a trainee when he was seventeen, he didn't stop being a rebel and got scolded a lot by the company for breaking rules but they favored him due to his family name. i want to say he never got caught with weed, i know he would have gotten punished badly, he's just a sneaky devil about that. >:) he did get caught texting another trainee romantically and showed up late or unprepared for training a few times. [sidenote: i know he's basically a nepobaby BUT don't hate him, he's matured a lot because he had a whole-ass child.]

kija wasn't the most exceptional singer or rapper but he was an exceptional dancer with lots of charisma and passion when performing so they kept him around, training him to become an idol /at some point/ but definitely not rushing it. in a way, they were stringing him along and keeping him under contract so they could eventually profit off him because they knew his name would sell. (it's lowkey giving huening vibes tbh.)

so *record scratch* you're wondering how i ended up here? driving a mini-van to pick up my kid from kindergarten? [kija vc] well, basically, he ended up getting that trainee from earlier pregnant when he was 23 and had his contract suspended immediately. this was another core memory, of course, because he was now a dad but he also had no future.

for the next two years, kija's parents paid rent as he prepared for his new life; transitioning into someone that could be a father and a husband with lots of therapy and self-reflection. (IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME!!!)

kija was in love so it wasn't a question of that, it was a question of his maturity and ability to commit; i can safely say that he is a wonderful father and a full-hearted lover. a few months after having saja, his daughter, the two lovebirds were married and kija started a job in the local seoul theatres as a choreographer for musicals.

we all know the truth that kija didn't want to be an idol so he managed to find happiness for a few years but that comes and goes, we all know that, and shit had to hit the fan for him once again. (i'm evil, i know…)

his wife cracked under the pressure of a sudden marriage and came to him one night, explaining that she had fallen for another man, telling him that she wanted a divorce. it wasn't an ugly divorce, the two were civil and agreed to 50/50 custody, but that didn't mean that he wasn't heartbroken. kija truly loved her and had experienced the joys of first love and parenthood with her. he's hasn't seriously dated since their divorce two years ago and has focused on his career plus his parenting, of course.

after the merge, kija was given another chance from infinite and hired on as a choreographer; major thanks to his brother for putting in a good word. (lmfao) he is happy in his career, he just wants to dance because that's such a natural instinct in him; brownie points for not being in the spotlight but being paid well still.

i think i rambled enough about kija so let's move on to connection ideas??? i'm demanding that saja gets babied by everyone so she can brag that her aunts and uncles are idols at school. since he was a trainee in the past, older idols might know him and have trained with him. i'm guessing he would have known some just due to his connections through his brother. if they grew up in seoul, maybe they went to school together or were neighbors so childhood / early teenhood friends. if they were in the industry since young, kija could have known them due to his parent's connections.

since being at infinite, he maybe choreographed something for them or is currently doing so. he could just know them as a co-worker so we can grow the chemistry. since they're on tour, i'm sure he has time to party so i could definitely go for a party friend. if you think they'd get along, everyone needs someone to confide in so maybe they're close. since kija isn't the best vocalist and rapper, maybe he can help your muse produce a track since that's a hobby of his. i can see him doing anything artistic so i'm open to all sorts of collaborations. let's have them direct a music video, create instrumentals, act in something online, release an artbook or whatever else you can think of.

this was literally all over the place but i hope this is helpful enough to spark your imagination and drive you to plot with me. did i beg enough yet or should i add a pretty please? 🥺

[papirouge]

@ your previous anon: please stay away from social media. I’ve done that too as a girl who is not attractive I have some injuries and scars and stuff that I won’t get into here. The world especially men online are particularly cruel to us that aren’t models.. and that makes the idea of dating terrifying and avoided. You can curate your media social accounts (if you have to have some) to what you like. Like I like to bake and I’m learning to sew. Seeing that content helps much more. It helps to remember too that you don’t have to get married or be in a relationship if you don’t want to. It’s a weird paradox I’ve seen when girls decide to leave dating altogether so they’re shamed for it. But then we’re also shamed for dating because we’re not enough either. then we’re threatened to settle with a guy that doesn’t even like you or else he’ll just date some younger girl. Makes no sense to me. Like just go date her? but whatever. They make it seem like older single women are a threat to society like how single men are. But I’ve never heard of a single older woman shooting up a public space or stabbing multiple people. They just keep to themselves. It’s double hard I know if you have parents that want grandchildren to hurry up and marry. I have that lol.. but I think those parents aren’t really aware of how dark dating has gotten. A lot of men just aren’t nice or like women in general. Yet they’re told to get one like we’re some item to pick up at the store. To sum up - delete social media if you can. Reddit isn’t a place for women honestly. If you can’t delete all accounts, block any content that you don’t want to see. Your mental health matters

I totally believe that humans were meant to be as much scrutinized as we currently do. Whether this is in the form of self voyeurism (selfies) or comparing ourselves to other's physical appearance. The fact that people are showing more their body than they ever did before doesn't help. I am sure how ancestors weren't fixating over scars or pimples or keeping their hair silky or whatever narcissist crap is getting shoved onto us.

I already said the reason so many people felt so insecure and hollow was because they didn't entertain an actual hobby. And when I say hobby, I'm talking about doing something of your hands. Whether it's gardening, doing ceramics, textile creation, illustration.... I'm a firmly believer that humans were meant to create & learn, not consume. Today most people come back to their house and watch stupid shows on Netflix. A whole agenda set of value and "culture" is getting shoved into their heads. Teenagers didn't start to starve themselves, have reckless sex or lookup porn stars out of a vaccum... People don't have room were they can express themselves.

So yes, curating your media does help A LOT. I never had a TV ever since I left my family home, don't have Netflix or music service subscription. I make my own music playlist on YouTube and practice my crafts (fashion & illustration) whenever I have free time. I don't have personal social media beside Tumblr (I have an Instagram account for my brand but I refuse to have the app on my phone). I also unfollowed/stop visiting websites making me anxious or with toxic communities (even on discord I left a bunch of toxic servers - I only kept a japanese language and pro life group). Result? I don't compare myself to other anymore (mental health improved). Creation is the best medicine against feeelings of inadequacy or FOMO. And the only fields I'm comparing myself to other it's for work (other artists) not aren't immutable traits about myself that I cannot change, which is precisely what breeds so much anxiety and desperation ; you can improve your craft, but you can hardly change your body structure, social status or 'personality'....

Women not killing people or shooting up places for whatever reason is yet another proof that the "women are more emotional then men" is a myth no rooted into reality imo. It's just pure gaslighting lol Not too long ago I've seen a post debunking the claim that women did actually have less car accidents than men and that the saying that women couldn't drive wasn't rooted on objective reality lol Once again, men project their own shortcomings onto other.

[tropics-angel]

I just got out of an abusive relationship that I was in since I was 16yrs old. I am 27 now for reference. It was more emotionally and mentally abusive than anything else. It reached an all time high 2022-2023. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I got sick everytime I went out with a friend bc my immune system was so messed up from never leaving my house. They policed my friendships whilst having a sexual relationship with most of their “friends” and I could never say anything about it without getting punished. Anytime I would bring up a concern they would ghost me for days…they didn’t visit me for months and would not allow me to come over and visit either.If I broke things off they always would want to try again just to treat me worse than before. Besides the cruel treatment,I felt we were growing apart because I was changing myself for the better and they were just getting worse. Maybe this is silly,but music is such a big thing for me and I feel you can tell a lot about a person from their taste in music. When their music taste changed to listening to artists who support rapists or music that is degrading to women in general,I knew the love we had shared was definitely over. I was not perfect in the relationship obviously,bc at 16yrs old you don’t know how to properly love someone since you are just learning about your own self,but at 27 basic things like honesty,kindness,and loyalty are just standard. They began to speak to me so disrespectfully and grew so much hatred for me for finally moving out of the place we shared together because I refused to keep tolerating the abuse. For months, I let them guilt and punish me for leaving until I smacked sense into myself. The demise of this relationship was never my fault,but they gaslit me into thinking I was the one who did it all. The complained that I was not affections as they would’ve like me to be and I do own up to not being as affectionate as I would have liked either,but I did not grow up with affection and it was very overwhelming. When I really wanted to be super mushy ,it was so nerve wracking for me.It’s so much easier for me now,but they claimed the change in me was “too late”. Well I think that’s bullshit. It is never too late to love and I’m so thankful and proud of how far I’ve come healing my familial traumas with 0 support from someone who was supposed to be my partner. This person has shared intimate photos of me with their friend when I was underage and I still stayed because I just so badly wanted things to work and to be loved. I devoted my whole life to this person,even rejecting good job offers to help work at their business that ended up failing.This paragraph cannot even cover half of the cruel things that were done and the things I gave despite the cruelty. Again,I own up to my part in the relationship,but there is NOTHING I could’ve done that would merit the treatment I got. I pray everyday to God that my heart stays soft,open,and forgiving despite all that has happened. I have apologized to my ex for the part I played in the past,however,they have not apologized and I really am not expecting one because they are so totally lost and void of love or compassion. I pray that karma and the consequences of their actions are enough to spark authentic change in their life and heart. Maybe my prayers are working,because I am healing up so nicely. This is a person that I never thought I could live without but I am. I know I’m not at 100% but I am still open to forgiving them and still love them after everything. Even when it’s hard,please stay sweet and kind because you will never lose. It’s so much easier to let go of someone when you know there is no ill will on your side. I don’t harbor bitterness,though I am hurt. It’s okay to be hurt about it because healing is certainly not linear. Everyday I pray to get a little stronger,a little sweeter,and a little wiser. I pray for my lover who made themselves an enemy to me and know that God will deal with them accordingly. STAY FULL OF LOVE AND DON’T LET ANYONE SIPHON IT ALL OUT OF YOU

[emoslutboywife]

I want to do more things with literature. I wish to read, learn and empathize with those who had lived and passed. But it feels so daunting and tiresome. It's like I'm a thousand separate shards. When whole I can amount to pretty much anything.

But when I need to or want to achieve multiple things I need to sweep those shards of me to be enough. Also the broom cannot collect me on its own. So I need to muster up or preserve some of me to be ready if push comes to shove and I need to sweep myself together into a newly emerged thing that needs attention.

However these shards are not homogenous, some large and some different colors. There are rare rainbow shards and some are sharp obsidian fillings that are stuck deep in flesh.

In a way I am a cluster of clouds made of colorful glass. A cloud chamber¹ where my muses can be lasting briefly but always seeming to successfully condensing those different shards of me around it's presence and path whenever they visit me.

When I sweep I can more easily collect the larger pieces but the smaller dust that by weight comprises more of me in proportion is effortlessly flung away and scattered from where I want my shards collected.

The larger ones are usually big but specific things for me. Adoration for a beloved craft, deep appreciation of an artist, the always present yearning to truly belong that never leaves my heart, the indescribably sad and tender contempt when I feel betrayed by someone that I had entrusted my soul with. All larger things. They are easier to maneuver, being heavy thus not as easily affected by erratic movement.

Why do I have to remain a broken mess on the floor? Why do I need a broom in order to do things and truly be me? It feels like I am a handicapped soul with the way I am and honestly it's so hard to continue living like this.

I need to become fluid. Maybe not entirely but if I can somehow merge the dust of me in some liquid maybe then I'll be able to steer myself more easily, without worry for the dust flying away. Thus I wouldn't be losing my finer self while I'm actually trying to collect it.

Yes, maybe the liquid can spread quickly into a thin sheet along the surface and evaporate, but who says I cannot construct a network of pipes and pumps with collection chambers to prevent it from eluding me? I could do anything as a fluid

If only I can just know what liquid I need to swim in, please help me find my binding liquid.

1) As in particle cloud chamber where the presence of moving subatomic particles can bring together and condense on their path the vapor in the chamber. https://youtu.be/7VH9l4hgbII?si=ohGB1NulcIQDV9Ho

[saganandkatelynindc]

Day 4, Smithsonian African Museum of History and Culture, & Shakespeare

July 18, 2023

Today's schedule looked light but it was not. The is nothing easy about the Smithsonian African Museum of History and Culture, but it is necessary. My mind continues to be blown by the current movement in this country to block diversity and equity training and to ban books that portray perspective different than your own. Actually - it is far beyond having my mind blown - it's making me furious!!

The truth is that there are not many smiles to be found here and Katelyn covered her eyes many times but both she and Sagan persisted and continued to read and watch and learn. I continually watched them, their faces, their body language, their pace and I moved them along or held them back when necessary. You cannot whitewash the institution of slavery and the role of our government or the churches played in the growth of it. You cannot separate how and who built this country with what has become of it.

One does NOT need to feel guilty as a white person, but one does have to - at the VERY LEAST - make an effort to understand we live in a systemically racist world where - recently - many of the blatant racists have been given an microphone instead of being driven back into their dark holes. White privilege exists and if people could simply look at the trajectory of their on journey - it is so obvious. It is NOT that hard. The kids I am with get it. Katelyn - who will be 12 in August said as were were preparing to leave, "Could we just grow up!"

This museum is filled with facts and artifacts. Many are celebratory and many are horrific and barbaric. But it is the truth. It is a reminder that you don't know what you don't know. I took very few pictures here but it was certainly more fun to be the celebratory areas and when I asked the kids WHY we needed this part of the museum, they both said it was to record the achievements of Black citizens and to inspire Black kids. I concur. I was also pleased to see how many of the Black heroes my kids knew. Katelyn was blown away by Jessie Owens' stride.

We spent the morning going through the "celebration" part of the museum where we saw a dress worn by Marion Anderson among so many other things. The kids learned about the Green Book and I'm embarrassed to say they did NOT know what it was prior to today. Clearly, I am slipping.

We also visited a newly installed art exhibit. The art was impactful - and Katelyn said - "Is THIS still celebration?" after seeing a collage of George Junius Stinney Jr., the youngest person ever executed by the US government. He was 14 and they (WE) had to modify the electric chair due to his tiny size. He was arrested in March 1944 and executed in June 1944 Justice is swift - in some cases. But... after a re-examination of Stinney's case began in 2004, and several individuals and the Northeastern University School of Law sought a judicial review. Stinney's murder conviction was vacated in 2014, seventy years after he was executed, with a South Carolina court ruling that he had not received a fair trial.

How many times has that kind of things happened?

It was certainly NOT "celebration" but it was the truth and that artist brought this horrific injustice into the light again so that adults and kids as young as ours could indeed know about it. This is not the only case of this type of injustice - FYI! Read JUST MERCY.

We ate in the cafe at the museum and plunged into the rough stuff - as if the art exhibit hadn't been rough enough. I took NO photos. But I can promise you that there was a whole lot of learning going on.

Around 3:00 we headed out and "home." We had a lot of de-briefing to do, go over the summary of tonight's play, Shakespeare's Twelfth Night and a change of clothes on our schedule. We had a lovely dinner at Founding Farmers - a farm to table restaurant and - well - everyone looked marvelous!!

After dinner we headed to the play.

The plot is.. well, it IS a Shakespearean comedy... complicated. A person is in disguise and he/she falls in love with this powerful person but they don't know it yet and then after all kinds of shenanigans the presumed dead twin of the disguised person appears and is confused with that person - but quickly falls in love and marries a different person who is important to the plot. Then there is a fool - or several fools - and it all takes place in a local bar. - with a live band and lots of dancing and singing Confused yet!??! We were!

Even at intermission, we were not quite on top of the plot. so Sagan googled "Twelfth Night Love Chart " and we studied this:

Even the chart cracked us up. BUT we kept at it and finally it all come together. We all LOVED it and were laughing and laughing and laughing. Did I mention we had front row seats? Daphne even got asked to take a shot (of water) with the cast as the play starting unrolling the complexities of the plot. After all - it was set in a bar...

The bottom line is this: We loved it!! The actors were engaging and creative and we talked about it and laughed all the way home - which was just about 3 blocks. I was so proud of these kids - the only kids in the audience - FYI. They were not afraid of Shakespeare and even I, who love Shakespeare's tragedies and histories but usually will pass on a comedy, thoroughly enjoyed it.

One more thing. This young man and young woman who are learning so much about history and culture and life can still have fun - so as we waiting for the theater to seat us - they engaged in a thumb war. "One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war." (Can you see me smiling?). I'm a lucky girl!

I think it was a day well spent.

Stay tuned.

PS I am writing this at 5:00 AM on Wednesday, July 19 and it is POURING rain. POURING - complete with thunder and lightening. Our plan was to start early and head to the MLK Monument - but we might not get there today. Flexibility my friends.

[ggomomomo]

The Edeiem Sword

@felixmonth

Felix Week 2022 Day 6 (Fantasia Version) | Thief

AO3 | Masterlist

Ah, the usual routine. He'd go out and steal from the treasury, he got suspected, and his dear cousin would pay him a visit (read: put him into an interrogation). The chase was straightforward, though it seems that the authorities still couldn’t put him in jail no matter what.

"How'd you do it?" Adrien sat across from him on the other couch, elbows on his knees.

"Do what?" Félix stirred his cup of tea, summoning nonchalance into his mannerisms.

"Steal it of course!"

"What did I steal this time?" He drawled, sipping on his drink. "Ancient scrolls? The Elf King's crown? Your beloved coat? Please do enlighten me."

"Morning of yesterday." Adrien scowled. His Blessed necklaces gleamed and swayed. "You stole the Bloodtear Ruby from the Magic Hall's vault."

"Did I? How did you come to that conclusion?"

Adrien's face was turning red. "Of course it's you! There's no one else who could've stolen it, like all the other heists you pulled off!"

Paladins. They're all the same. Félix leaned back with a deadpan expression. They think they're the highest authority while they push around others to further their ideals. How wonderful. It annoyed him that it just had to be his cousin who was sent to confront him.

"I've always said the same thing each time you barge into my home," he said coolly. "You cannot accuse me with no evidence. You said I stole the Bloodtear Ruby. How did I steal it then? Is there anything left in the scene that implicates me? Do you have witnesses?"

Adrien clamped his mouth shut.

Félix waved his hand. "See? You don't have anything. If you're looking for an alibi, I'll tell you that I was here the entire day of yesterday."

The paladin narrowed his eyes, unrelenting. "How do you explain that red jewel hanging above your fireplace?"

"It's a replica. Blood rubies are the trend nowadays."

"And that painting on your wall that looks like Paon de l'ombre that was stolen two months ago?"

"I commissioned it from an anonymous artist." Félix grinned. "I'm rather fond of that painting."

"What about that Elven Flag in your kitchen that looks like the one that went missing the other day?"

"Coincidence. I adore the elves."

Adrien let out a long groan and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't get why you're doing this, Fé," he said softly. "You're already rich. Our family's rich. Why do you want more when you have enough? Is it because you want to prove you're good at something?"

"Excuse me?" Félix's voice cut into the air sharply.

"I don't want money." He sneered. "I have enough of that. I steal because I can. Because I enjoy it, the same way you enjoy being a slave to the House of Paladins. If you think my motive for thieving is as shallow as greed, think again."

"You couldn't have picked a better hobby other than breaking the law?"

"The laws you claim I break are only yours." A shadow cast over the thief's face. "You—people like you—force others into standards you deem 'perfect'. It's theft for you. It's only borrowing for me."

"So you do admit to theft." Adrien blinked rapidly at him.

"Again, Adrien. Proof."

Adrien slouched on his seat, turning a sour expression towards the stolen artifacts in Félix's abode. Legally, his hands were tied as long as he didn't have evidence, and setting Félix up just to get that evidence was inappropriate for a paladin to do.

Félix brushed the coat of dust on his vest. "Now if you're finished with your business here, feel free to leave. No—please leave and do not come back until you've gathered anything worth my time."

"Why? Are you planning your next heist?" Adrien's eyes strayed over to the papers scattered on the table. "Wait, you are!"

Before Félix could swiftly deny it, his cousin picked up one of the sheets. "The Edeiem Sword?" Adrien exclaimed. "You're planning to steal the Holy Sword?"

"You're looking at a sketch of it. I don't see where it says I'm going to steal it."

Adrien dropped the paper, eyes wide. "You can't steal the Edeiem!"

"Hm? Why not?"

"It's—it's—" The paladin sputtered. "It's the Edeiem! It cannot be stolen even if you tried. It belongs to the Grand Cathedral."

Félix clicked his tongue. "If you're so confident that it cannot be stolen, then why are you so worried?"

Adrien faltered. "Well, I—I . . ." His expression transformed into a grim one. "Listen . . . Fé . . . if you try to take it, you might be cursed. You can get hurt the moment you touch it or even die. It's designed to never leave the Grand Cathedral or the care of the House."

"For a Holy Knight, your knowledge is lacking." Félix shook his head. "I know about that already."

"And you're still planning to steal it?"

"A nice little challenge, is it not?"

The statements weren't false. The consequences of stealing the Edeiem Sword were severe, but the act itself was possible. It had its own built-in defenses that were (apparently) so secure that the Sword didn't require guards or protection magic around it.

"You're crazy." Adrien's little laugh was almost hysterical. "You're actually crazy. You're going to get caught and killed either way."

A smirk stretched out on Félix's lips. "Then wish me good luck in the afterlife, dear cousin."

---

Félix shoved his hands into his pockets as the lift descended into the underground. Unlike other artifacts, the Edeiem Sword was locked away beneath ground level, in a hollow space with nothing except a beam of Blessed Light from above to shine over the weapon. The only (convenient) way to get in was through the lift.

He rubbed his cheek as he thought. The paladins and priests would definitely intercept him once he went up. However, if there was an escape room within the cavern itself . . .

"Aha! You are stealing the sword!"

Félix stumbled forward, hissing at Adrien. "What are you doing here?"

He was decked out in a full knight gear, sword dangling by his waist. "To catch you in the act of course," said Adrien proudly.

Félix knew better. Adrien was there to keep him from doing anything foolish. Did he truly think that I'd dive headfirst into my death?

"I thought no one could teleport into this place." Félix slid over to the other corner of the lift.

"The distance of teleportation is limited," Adrien huffed. "I caught the lift just in time."

"How are you 'catching' me then? A single witness isn't valid for accusation." The thief crossed his arms.

Red took over the holy knight's face. "I'll—! I have other knights on guard at the Cathedral!"

"Uh huh."

"What do you mean? You're getting imprisoned! You can still turn back now before it's too late."

"I cannot bring the lift back; it has to touch the ground first." Félix peeked through the bars of the contraption. "We're getting closer."

"Are you seriously going to continue your heist as if I'm not here?!"

"You said it yourself."

The lift stopped with a whirr. Félix sauntered out after the door creaked open. The Blessed Light directed a beam from the top, creating a patch light that made the stone in the center glisten. Both Adrien and Félix stared at the rock.

The Sword was gone.