#orginazation

[spearmintseaslug]

jam ... ignore the reflection wffect mostly just wanted to try it outs for the first time

[periwinkle-the-11th]

immediately jumped to watch episode one I got off my game for this/j

YOU DIDN'T TELL ME PAYTON LIST PLAYS MADDIE OH MY GOD I HAVENT SEEN HER IN FOREVER

cheering after that announcement was crazy work AND GETTING HER NAME WRONG 😭😭 I would crash out Maddie's too real

OOO HAHAAH!!!!!!

fun fact, for the first like 3 episodes i whole heartdely thought that was meg donnelly, bc I'm face blind asf when it comes to actors and i 100% distingish people by their haircuts, and i think thats the first show i've ever seen that Milo Manhiem was in that Meg Donnelly wasn't in (i dont watch tv very often lmao) and after breif research I'm wondering just how many blondes i've mistaked as meg donnelly bc appeartnyl they only have like 4 movies together??????

however i do aslo love payton list

[romeowfr]

hello worldbuilding wednesday!!!! idk what would be a good tag for it, but for flight rising this can be within your clan, dragons, or the overall world of Sorneith! have fun!!!

my contribution: Hiems (he/it) and Hawke (she/her)! (ill add their ids/links later. i miss u fr </3)

Hiems is a ghost that haunts a forest that Hawke often finds herself going through as a bounty hunter! im debating having it as a vague forest or within the shadow territory, but havent decides yet! i don't have a lot on them ^^; but Hiems is surrounded by blue butterflies at any given time. He speaks low and quiet and is seen as kind of grumpy/a bad omen.

Hawke is known for being good at completing bounties, though refuses to work under any contract/for an employer. Shes loud and brash and confident, but she's not stupid. She knows her own limits and when to have more caution. Hiems thinks she rushes into things too much though.

[crows-junk-pile]

More oc posting, cult edition! So the town Moon and co. grew up in was home to a town wide cult who worshiped some kind of angel-like figure, I haven't quite figured it out but they have something about angels, which is why Finch hates his ability bc the cult and mostly his grandma made a big deal about him being able to have wings and it made him really uncomfortable and now he hates his ability.

So 6 years before the story proper starts this cult town was planning a ritual to summon whoever they're worshipping and that would raise the town and every thing in a 15 mile radius and that would be really bad because the reason that the cult can even pull this off despite their being not a lot of people with magic/abilities there is bc theirs a magic core crystal thingy under the mountain that the town is close too and the ritual would destroy that crystal which for some reason is really bad for Kore. Something about too many deaths too soon.

[iforgormypasscode]

ugh ive been thinking about this for a while and like

nobody should be getting bombed

that shouldnt be a hot take

not to drive out terrorists, not to protest occupation, not to defend people, not as a warning nor as a message

nobody deserves to die young

[rainwedding]

drinking game where u take a shot every time Spencer says me n who in the tags of a post

this is how u get liver failure

[heartbunnymoth]

this is the only good thing i drew in october its still my pfp on twitter gregtober stressed the ever-living shit out of me

[maeevel]

hi !! i just saw your post about your head cannon of percy sniffing apollo like a shark (which i adore, very true 🤣) and was wondering if you had any other head-cannons you have ? it can be about any of your fics or just in general, i’m just very intrigued ☺️

I have some headcanons in general indeed, mostly stuff that I imagine could happen if they started dating like somewhat reasonable individuals after the canon events lol. Mind, this is in reference to Fem!Percy, but most of it can be applied to any version of Percy.

- I always imagine Percy running colder than usual (because, you know, fish are cold-blooded and can't really regulate their own body temperature, and it's similar like that for her), so Apollo happily lets himself get used as a heated blanket.

- This counts only when you consider ToA ig: Percy is one of the few people Apollo is comfortable taking on his godly appearance with and letting his strength show. In general, he's very comfortable not trying to contain his godly strength like with other mortals with whom he has to watch out for because, you know, the difference in power and all that. Not only because he knows Percy doesn't cower before him and won't back down, but because she's not easily breakable and doesn't mind him manhandling her a bit with his godly strength.

- Gods don't know the word "modest" which Percy learns quickly with Apollo, because he keeps showering her with the most flashy jewelry, the biggest bouquets, the most expensive clothes, the most romantic poems and serenades and drawings. Apollo is like a cat in a way, bringing Percy her gifts and blinking at her with his pretty eyes to see her reaction. She thinks it's ridiculous, but actually secretly likes it, especially if it's things he creates himself.

- Percy loves having Apollo read to her. She likes picking out the most random books and snuggling up to him while he reads to her.

- I imagine them settling down in a nice neighbourhood in New York, in a Brownstone and creating a home there. It's not far from Hecate's townhouse, and as she's on good terms with Apollo, she often comes around for dinner. Actually, all the gods like to drop in unannounced once they learn of Perpollo's townhouse, not because of anything in particular but because they're nosy as fuck.

- Percy is a chronically messy person. Apollo loves orginazing her stuff for her. Give him a label maker and he's entertained for hours.

- Apollo pretty quickly learns that Percy is utterly shameless, especially in regards to sexuality, once she grows comfortable with him. She regularly prays to him for the most random things only to pounce on him like crazy when he shows up.

- On the topic of shamelessness: Percy cusses like a born and raised New Yorker. Apollo does not. He's sometimes shocked about the things that leave her mouth and has to intervene whenever Percy's ranting about Zeus.

- Once they have children, Apollo's the stricter parent. He has experience raising children and is made of a tougher material when faced with pleading, little, mischievious faces, while Percy wants to give her children what she herself never had during her childhood. BUT. Percy's the most protective. Say a word against her children, and she's immediately throwing hands.

- On the topic of children: I like to imagine that Apollo would love for their first child to be born in Delos, which Percy happily agrees to.

[novaursa]

Echoes of a Promise

- Summary: When Prince Daemon Targaryen challenged Ser Gwayne Hightower during the tourney, that King Viserys I orginazed for birth of his heir, it was not just to humiliate and spite Otto. It was because of you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower (with one-sided Daemon Targaryen)

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister or Rhaenyra and is bonded with dragon Silverwing. These events take place years before Skyfall. For more parts and to read this in a chronological order check my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Or you can consider it to be part just for itself.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 614

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The air is filled with the excitement and anticipation of the tournament, with the roar of the crowd echoing across the field. The day is bright, though the tension in the air hangs like a storm waiting to break. You sit in the royal box, your back straight as you watch the events unfold below. Beside you, your sister Rhaenyra leans forward, her gold and silver hair catching the sunlight, while Alicent, ever composed, keeps a more demure posture. Despite the noise around you, there's an undercurrent of unease, an undercurrent you can feel but cannot name.

You try to focus on the jousts, but your mind keeps drifting. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, yet you cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss. It could be the knowledge that your mother, Queen Aemma, is in labor, or perhaps it's the weight of expectation that seems to press down on you from all sides. The youngest princess, soon to be the sister to an heir, the girl bonded to Silverwing, you feel the eyes of the realm upon you.

Your gaze shifts to Ser Gwayne Hightower, who sits on his horse at the end of the lists, resplendent in his armor. You can feel his eyes on you, and when you glance at him, he offers a small, shy smile. There's something earnest about him, something that makes your heart flutter just slightly. You return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through you despite the cool breeze.

Rhaenyra notices your exchange and leans closer, a teasing smile on her lips. "Ser Gwayne seems quite taken with you, sister."

You give her a playful nudge. "He is a noble knight. It would be unbecoming of him not to show favor to his princess."

Alicent, always the voice of reason, adds softly, "But it is clear my brother’s favor is more than just courtly manners. Perhaps you should acknowledge it."

You cast another glance at Gwayne, who has returned his attention to the field, but not before stealing one more look your way. There is a sincerity in his eyes that you find difficult to ignore. Your heart is conflicted, though you try to push the thoughts aside. After all, you are a princess of the realm, and such things are never simple.

But before you can ponder further, the crowd erupts into cheers and gasps. The herald's voice rings out, announcing the next joust. "Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, against Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince."

The shift in atmosphere is palpable. You feel it immediately, the tension growing thick and heavy, like the humidity before a storm. Your heart skips a beat as you see Daemon enter the lists, his presence commanding, his dark violet eyes scanning the crowd before landing on you. He doesn't smile, but the look he gives you is intense, a mixture of challenge and something else you can't quite place.

"He’s chosen Ser Gwayne," Alicent whispers, her voice laced with concern for her brother.

"To spite Lord Otto, no doubt," Rhaenyra mutters, her brows furrowing.

But you know better. Daemon's choice is not just to slight his old nemesis, the Hand of the King. No, this is a message, one meant for you. Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize the implications. Daemon is many things—unpredictable, dangerous, and bold. He has never hidden his affection for you, though it is often veiled in the guise of familial care. But there’s always been more, something unspoken between you two, something that now rears its head in the most public of arenas.

As the joust begins, you watch with bated breath. The crowd roars as the two knights charge at each other, lances poised to strike. The clash is fierce, the sound of splintering wood echoing across the field. Gwayne holds his own against Daemon, and for a moment, you dare to hope. But Daemon is a seasoned warrior, and his determination today is fueled by more than just a desire to win.

They go for another round, and this time, Daemon’s lance strikes true. It shatters against Gwayne’s shield, the force of the blow unseating him. Gwayne crashes to the ground, the breath knocked out of him, and the crowd gasps. You instinctively rise from your seat, hands clutching the railing in front of you.

"Y/N," Rhaenyra says softly, reaching out to calm you, but you barely hear her.

Your eyes are locked on Gwayne as he struggles to rise, his pride wounded as much as his body. Daemon circles him like a predator, his horse prancing, as if waiting to see if Gwayne will stand again. When Gwayne finally manages to get to his feet, Daemon removes his helmet, letting his silver hair spill out, and then he dismounts.

He strides over to Gwayne, and the two exchange words you cannot hear from this distance. But you see the way Daemon’s eyes flick up to the royal box, to you, and then back to Gwayne. Whatever he says is enough to make Gwayne’s expression harden, though he does not retaliate. Gwayne simply bows his head slightly, acknowledging the defeat, and then steps back.

Daemon, satisfied, returns to his horse, but not before casting you another look. This time, there’s a smirk on his lips, one that makes your blood boil. He knows exactly what he’s done, and the worst part is that you do too. He’s made his statement, loud and clear, in front of all the lords and ladies of the realm. Daemon Targaryen does not intend to step aside, and anyone who seeks to win your favor will have to contend with him first.

As Daemon rides off, victorious, your eyes drift back to Gwayne. He stands tall, despite the defeat, and when he finally looks up at you, there is no shame in his expression. Only determination, and something else—hope, perhaps? A promise that he will not give up so easily.

You sink back into your seat, your heart a tangle of emotions. Rhaenyra gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and Alicent offers you a small, understanding smile. But your mind is elsewhere, torn between the earnest affection of a young knight and the dangerous allure of a rogue prince.

As the dust settles from the tilt between Daemon and Gwayne, Otto Hightower watches with a deepening frown, his knuckles whitening as he grips the armrest of his chair. He had seen the intent in Daemon's eyes from the moment he chose Gwayne as his opponent. The tilt had been more than just a joust—it was a pointed act, an attempt to not only humiliate Otto but to endanger his son and, by extension, challenge Otto's influence in the court. Otto's gaze shifts from the field back to the royal box where you sit, and he notices the anxiety in your eyes as you watch Gwayne stand tall despite his defeat.

Otto's concern is not only for his son's welfare but also for the implications of Daemon's reckless actions. He can see how the prince's antics could destabilize everything he has worked for, and that thought is enough to push him into action. With a composed but determined stride, Otto makes his way to King Viserys, who sits at the center of the royal box, his expression a mixture of concern and detachment as he watches the aftermath of the joust.

"Your Grace," Otto begins, bowing slightly before taking his place at Viserys' side. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an undercurrent of urgency in his tone. "I cannot help but express my concern over Prince Daemon’s conduct. Choosing my son as his opponent was not merely a matter of sport—it was a deliberate act of provocation."

Viserys sighs, his gaze still fixed on the field. "Daemon is... spirited," he replies, attempting to sound nonchalant, though there's a hint of weariness in his voice. "You know how he is, Otto. He has always had a flair for the dramatic."

"Spirited?" Otto repeats, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice. "Your Grace, this was not mere dramatics. This was a calculated attempt to undermine the order of things. My son’s life was endangered, not out of competition, but out of spite."

Viserys finally turns to look at Otto, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You see threats where there are none, Lord Hightower. Daemon is my brother; he would not harm a fellow knight without reason. Gwayne is skilled, and I am sure Daemon respected that."

Otto suppresses a sigh, knowing that Viserys is, as always, reluctant to see the worst in his brother. "Your Grace, the prince's intentions were clear. He seeks to disrupt, to sow discord, and he has taken a particular interest in your youngest daughter, as you well know."

Viserys' expression hardens at the mention of you, but before he can respond, Otto seizes the opportunity to press his point. "I have proposed a match before, between Y/N and my son, Gwayne. He is a noble knight, honorable and devoted to the realm, and most importantly, he cares deeply for your daughter. Such a match would not only strengthen ties between our houses but also protect the princess from the whims of Prince Daemon."

Viserys shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not pleased with the direction of the conversation. "I am aware of your proposal, Otto, but I do not see the need to rush into any such arrangement. Y/N is still young, and I would not have her feel pressured into a marriage, especially one so clearly driven by political concerns.

"Your Grace," Otto insists, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, "this is not just about politics. It is about ensuring the stability of your realm, the safety of your daughter. Daemon is unpredictable, and his interest in Y/N is far from innocent. A match with Gwayne would provide her with the protection of an honorable man, a knight who would be devoted to her above all else."

Viserys' face tightens with frustration. "Daemon is my brother, Otto. He may be reckless, but he is no danger to Y/N. And as for Gwayne, I have no doubt of his virtues, but I will not be pushed into making decisions about my daughter's future based on fear and speculation."

Otto opens his mouth to argue further, but at that moment, a servant approaches the king, bowing deeply before leaning in to speak quietly into his ear. Whatever the servant says causes Viserys' expression to change instantly, the frustration and weariness replaced by a deep concern, and something close to dread.

"Your Grace," the servant says, just loud enough for Otto to catch the words, "I bring word from the Maester. The Queen's labor... it is not progressing well. The Maester has requested your presence."

Viserys pales, his attention immediately drawn away from the tournament and all other matters. The color drains from his face as the weight of the situation dawns on him. He rises from his seat, barely acknowledging Otto’s presence now.

"Excuse me, Otto," Viserys says, his voice strained, "I must attend to the Queen."

Otto watches as Viserys departs, a feeling of unease settling over him. The king’s concerns about Aemma are legitimate, of course, but Otto cannot help but feel that the danger Daemon represents is just as pressing. Yet, with Viserys now preoccupied, there is little more Otto can do at this moment. He watches the king hurry away, his thoughts a storm of worry and calculation.

As he returns his gaze to the field, where the tournament continues with all its noise and pageantry, Otto’s mind races. He knows that Daemon’s influence over his brother and his growing interest in you are threats that cannot be ignored. And while Viserys may not see the urgency, Otto knows that he must find a way to protect both his son and the realm. But for now, with the shadow of the Queen’s labor hanging over them all, any further plans will have to wait. 

Otto Hightower may be forced to wait, but he will not forget.

The gardens are quiet, bathed in the soft silver light of the moon. The air is cool, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers, yet you find no comfort in their fragrance. Your heart is heavy, weighed down by grief that seems too vast to bear. The funeral had been a somber affair, the pyres of your mother and brother burning brightly against the darkening sky, and now, even the flames have died, leaving only ashes and silence.

You wander through the gardens, seeking solitude, though the emptiness only magnifies your sorrow. The night is still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, and your thoughts are consumed by the images of your mother, Queen Aemma, and your brother, Baelon, who had lived but a single day. The grief presses down on you, almost suffocating in its intensity. You find yourself sinking onto a stone bench beneath a large, ancient tree, its branches reaching out like arms meant to offer comfort, but even nature seems distant tonight.

You barely notice the sound of footsteps on the gravel path until they draw close. When you finally look up, you see Gwayne Hightower approaching, his expression one of deep concern and sorrow. His presence, though unexpected, stirs something within you—an odd mixture of relief and anxiety. He slows as he nears, his armor glinting softly in the moonlight, but there’s nothing imposing about him now. His eyes, warm and kind, are fixed on you, offering a silent question.

With a quiet nod, you dismiss the Kingsguard who stands at a respectful distance, signaling that you wish for privacy. The knight bows and steps away, leaving you alone with Gwayne in the tranquil, shadowed gardens.

"Princess," Gwayne says softly as he reaches you, his voice gentle, laced with the same sorrow that you feel. "I hoped to find you… I thought you might need someone."

You look up at him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, and for a moment, you struggle to find your voice. When you finally speak, your words are choked with emotion. "They’re gone, Gwayne. My mother… my brother…"

He kneels beside you, taking your hands in his. His touch is warm, grounding you in the here and now, even as your heart aches with the loss. "I am so sorry, Y/N," he murmurs, his thumbs gently brushing over your knuckles. "I cannot imagine the pain you’re feeling, but know that you do not have to bear it alone."

You blink, a tear escaping to trace down your cheek. "But I am alone, Gwayne. Everyone I love… they keep leaving me." Your voice breaks, and you lower your head, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Gwayne’s hands tighten around yours, firm but tender, and he shifts to sit beside you on the bench. "You are not alone, not truly. I am here, Y/N. I will always be here for you, if you’ll let me."

There’s something in his voice, a quiet determination that draws your gaze back to him. You see the sincerity in his eyes, the deep, unwavering care he holds for you, and in that moment, a small part of your grief seems to lift, if only slightly. The loneliness that had seemed so overwhelming before begins to recede, replaced by a warmth that spreads through you, a connection that you hadn’t realized you needed so desperately.

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. The silence between you is no longer heavy with sorrow but filled with something softer, more comforting. After a moment, Gwayne speaks again, his voice low and earnest. "I promise you, Y/N, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are never alone. One day, I will marry you, and I will protect you, cherish you, for as long as I live."

His words catch you off guard, and you pull back slightly to look at him. "Marry me?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a hope you hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now.

"Yes," Gwayne says, his gaze never wavering. "I’ve cared for you for so long, and I know in my heart that you are the one I wish to spend my life with. I want to be by your side, to give you the happiness and security you deserve. I swear it."

Something inside you shifts, the despair you’ve been drowning in easing as you absorb the depth of his feelings. Without thinking, you reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "You are too kind, Gwayne," you murmur, your voice trembling. "I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly as if savoring the moment. "You deserve everything, Y/N," he says softly, opening his eyes to meet yours once more. "And I want to be the one to give it to you."

The sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, it’s all too much. You close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is tentative at first, testing the waters of this new intimacy. Gwayne responds immediately, his kiss gentle but insistent, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for as long as he can remember.

The kiss deepens, the grief and sorrow you’ve been carrying melding into a need for comfort, for connection. Gwayne’s hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as the heat between you grows. The world outside of this moment seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

He pulls back slightly, his breath ragged, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice hushed, as if he fears breaking the spell between you.

In response, you nod, your heart racing. "Yes," you whisper, the word barely audible, but full of the longing and need that has been building within you. "I need you, Gwayne. Please."

With a tenderness that takes your breath away, Gwayne begins to undress you, his hands careful and reverent as if you are something precious, something to be cherished. You mirror his actions, your fingers working to remove his armor, his tunic, until there is nothing between you but the cool night air.

When he finally moves over you, his touch is gentle, mindful of your inexperience. There’s a brief moment of hesitation, of adjustment, as your bodies join, but the discomfort quickly gives way to something deeper, more profound. Gwayne pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he waits for you to relax, to adjust to the newness of this intimacy.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You nod, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pull him closer. "Yes, Gwayne… don’t stop," you murmur, your breath hitching as pleasure begins to build, slowly at first, then with increasing intensity.

He kisses you again, and as your bodies find a rhythm, the world narrows down to the sensation of his touch, the warmth of his skin against yours, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. The urgency between you grows, the need to escape the pain of the world in the solace of each other’s arms, until it all culminates in a rush of pleasure that leaves you both breathless.

In the aftermath, as you lie together in the cool grass, Gwayne holds you close, his hand gently stroking your hair. "I will marry you, Y/N," he whispers, his voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. "I swear it, on my honor as a knight. We will be together, always."

You smile softly against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, by the warmth of his promise. "I believe you," you whisper back, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion finally begins to claim you.

But as the night deepens, as sleep takes hold, the cruel hand of fate begins to weave its own tapestry. Despite the promises made beneath the stars, despite the love you share in this stolen moment, you do not know that the future holds other plans, plans that will tear you from this place, from this man who has given you his heart.

For this promise of marriage, of a future together, will never come to be.

The days following the funeral passed in a haze of mourning, with the weight of loss still hanging heavily over the Red Keep. The atmosphere was somber, with everyone moving about with a quiet reverence, as though the very stones of the castle themselves had absorbed the grief of its inhabitants. Yet, amidst this solemnity, a tension was brewing, one that threatened to shatter the fragile peace.

Daemon Targaryen, ever restless and unpredictable, had spent those days watching, biding his time. He had seen the way Gwayne Hightower had looked at you during the funeral, the way his presence seemed to linger near yours. And while most would dismiss it as nothing more than the attentions of a knight to his princess, Daemon knew better. He could see through the thin veil of propriety to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

When he finally confronted Gwayne, it was in one of the shadowed courtyards of the Red Keep, a place where the light of day barely reached and where secrets were often exchanged in hushed tones. Gwayne was alone, having just finished sparring in the yard, his armor still gleaming with the sweat of exertion. He was unprepared for the sight of Daemon emerging from the shadows, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Ser Gwayne," Daemon called out, his voice deceptively casual. "You seem to have made yourself quite at home here in King's Landing. But then again, Hightowers always know how to make themselves comfortable, don’t they?"

Gwayne stiffened at the sound of Daemon’s voice, his hand instinctively moving to rest on the hilt of his sword. He turned to face the prince, his expression wary but resolute. "Prince Daemon," he greeted, his tone respectful but with an edge. "What brings you to this part of the Keep?"

Daemon strolled closer, his every movement calculated, as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. "I couldn’t help but notice your... persistent presence near my niece. After our last encounter at the lists, I thought you would have taken the hint to back off. But it seems Otto's son is either very brave or very foolish."

Gwayne’s jaw tightened, but he did not back down. "My intentions towards Princess Y/N are honorable, Prince Daemon. My feelings for her are genuine, and they have nothing to do with my father’s ambitions."

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, the amusement in them fading to something colder, more dangerous. "Is that so? I find it hard to believe that anything a Hightower does is not meticulously planned. You expect me to believe that your affections are purely coincidental, that they have nothing to do with your father’s desire to bind your house to the blood of dragons?"

Gwayne took a step forward, his hand still on his sword, but he made no move to draw it. "My feelings for the princess are my own, born out of respect and admiration, not out of any scheme. I care for her deeply, and I would never use her as a pawn in some political game."

"Respect and admiration," Daemon repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "How noble of you, Ser Gwayne. But tell me, what will you do when Viserys refuses to allow this match? When he sees your father’s hand behind it and denies your request? What then, noble knight?"

Gwayne’s resolve did not falter, though he could feel the weight of Daemon’s words pressing down on him. "If the king denies me, then so be it. But know this, Daemon—my feelings for Y/N will not change. I will still care for her, still protect her, with or without a marriage."

Daemon’s lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes were anything but amused. "You speak of protection, but what you fail to understand, Ser Gwayne, is that she doesn’t need protection from me. It is your interference that could bring her harm. Viserys may be blind to many things, but he is not blind to his brother’s intentions. You think you’re the better man, the safer choice, but you’re just as much a threat as any other suitor."

Gwayne’s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white, but he held his ground. "I would never harm her. And I will not be frightened away by your threats or your insinuations, Prince Daemon. If you truly care for her as you claim, you would understand that what matters most is her happiness. If I can give her that, then I will fight for it."

Daemon’s smile vanished, replaced by a hard, calculating look. "You think you can win against me, Ser Gwayne? You think your noble heart and chivalrous intentions will protect you from the realities of the court? You may have convinced yourself that your love is pure, but love in this world is rarely enough. Blood, power, and the will to seize it—that is what drives the fate of men."

The tension between them crackled in the air, a palpable thing that seemed to thrum with the promise of violence. Gwayne stared Daemon down, unflinching, his voice steady as he replied, "I may not have your power or your blood, Daemon, but I have something you don’t—a heart that beats for her, not for ambition. And that is something you will never understand."

For a moment, they stood in silence, two forces at an impasse, each unwilling to yield. Then, with a flicker of something akin to grudging respect in his eyes, Daemon broke the stare, stepping back. He let out a low, dark chuckle.

"Perhaps you’re right, Gwayne," he said, his tone lighter but still laced with danger. "Perhaps I don’t understand. But mark my words—the day will come when you’ll see that love alone is not enough. And when that day comes, I’ll be there, watching as your noble heart shatters."

With that, Daemon turned on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he walked away, leaving Gwayne standing in the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Gwayne’s hand slowly relaxed from his sword, but the tension remained, coiled tight in his muscles, in his mind.

He watched Daemon disappear into the darkness, his thoughts racing. Daemon’s words had been like barbs, digging into him, and though he had stood his ground, the doubts had been planted. Gwayne knew that his path would not be easy, that the forces arrayed against him were formidable. But his resolve had not wavered. If anything, the confrontation had only strengthened his determination.

As Gwayne turned to leave the courtyard, his thoughts returned to you—to the promise he had made, to the love he felt for you that had nothing to do with his father’s ambitions or the politics of the realm. No matter what Daemon or anyone else said, he would not give up. He would fight for you, for your happiness, no matter the cost.

But as he walked away, the words Daemon had left him with echoed in his mind, a dark omen that he could not shake. The day will come when you’ll see that love alone is not enough. Yet still, he would fight. Because for you, he would endure anything.

[aventurineswife]

Hi, hello, salutations. This is my first time making a request so I’m kind of nervous don’t really do such things on the internet so this is new to me. Anyway, I have a request I know it says that your requests are closed I apologize for requesting right now but I couldn’t really help myself (O_O) If you can, or if you want too, can you make a teen!reader who is like Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Is that how you spell his name? I forgot) from Bungo Stray Dogs with Jing Yuan, Feixao and of course, Aventurine? I adore your works and have actually been reading most of them (mostly the teen!reader ones because I like platonic stuff) for a few months now and absolutely love them

I’d like to think that after Akutagawa!teen!reader’s mentor left some orginazation that’s like the Port Magia left without a word that Jing Yuan/Feixiao/Aventurine stumble upon them and take them in as a mentee. One they while going through a midnight stroll they stumbled upon their old mentor who basically told them that their new student is superior to them. After that encounter reader tries to prove that they are enough to their new mentor, which resulted in them pushing themselves past their limits. Also they have a lung condition just like Akutagawa. As said before you don’t have to write this idea if you don’t want too! (⌒▽⌒)

“Tell me I’m enough, even if it’s a lie”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Teen!Reader, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa (BSD) based Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Mentor/Mentee Dynamic, Emotional Suppression, Angst with a Happy Ending (eventually), Lung Condition, Unresolved Trauma, Confrontations, Subtle Care, Slow-Burn Healing, Past Abandonment, Reader has self-worth issues, Reader pushes themselves to breaking point, Protective Mentor, Platonic Relationships, Power Struggles, Underlying Affection, Jealousy & Rivalry.

Warnings: Chronic illness (lung condition, similar to Akutagawa's), Violence (brief), Emotional abuse (implied) from Reader’s former mentor, Mentions of childhood trauma/abandonment, Self-harm through overexertion (Reader pushing beyond physical limits), Mentor comparisons/inferiority complex, Heavy angst, Psychological distress, Verbal degradation (from ex-mentor character).

A/N: I'm surprised people actually read the teen!reader fics 😭🙏

You weren't supposed to be here. Not under this endless sky. Not beside this man who commands armies with a yawn.

Jing Yuan found you on the edge of the Luofu, drenched in the blood of interstellar scum, cloak torn, lungs heaving. The wheeze in your breath reminded him of a storm he once weathered—violent, cold, and unrelenting. Still, there was something about your stance, about the sharp glare you threw his way despite your knees buckling, that made him pause.

"What are you doing alone out here, little blade?" he asked, voice light, hands behind his back.

You said nothing. You spat blood and glared.

And he smiled.

Jing Yuan never asked why you accepted his offer to join the Cloud Knights. Perhaps he knew asking would only push you away. So instead, he let you linger like a shadow beside him—training, learning, burning.

You hated the way his calm irritated you. You wanted urgency. You wanted the heat of battle, not the quiet silence of strategy.

But he was patient. Too patient. And that patience felt like a mirror you couldn’t bear to look into.

Then, one night, under a moon veiled in red mist, you saw him—your old mentor. The one who vanished.

"Still alive?" he sneered, looking past you. "Didn’t expect you to last this long. Your new General must be very generous. Or very blind."

"Shut up," you whispered.

He chuckled, turning away. "Your replacement's far superior. Doesn’t cough blood after five swings."

Something snapped.

The next morning, Jing Yuan found you collapsed in the training yard, blood on your lips, a shattered blade beside you.

He didn't scold. He knelt.

"You’re not a sword to be sharpened until it breaks. You’re a person, little blade. And your edge—your pain—is already more than enough."

You looked away, but when his hand rested on your shoulder, you didn’t flinch.

You met Feixiao in a crater filled with the remains of what used to be monsters.

You were one of them, weren’t you?

Or so you believed.

Feixiao didn't try to be gentle. She wasn't made for that. Her sword, her fists, her grin—they were all raw, honest.

"You're strong. But strength without purpose? That’s just noise."

You spat blood and turned away. She laughed.

She didn’t treat you like a child. You liked that. She yelled when you were reckless. Hit you when you pushed too far. But in the silence after, she’d cook you stew. Sit beside you. Sometimes say nothing at all.

It was the closest you’d ever felt to peace.

Until they came back.

Your mentor.

"Still hiding behind stronger backs? Still sickly and desperate for approval?"

You didn’t say a word. You attacked. And lost.

Feixiao found you broken, trembling, fury in your eyes. You begged her to train you harder.

"I want to be worth something," you said.

She crouched, eyes wild with a pain you hadn’t seen before.

"You are. Not because of what you can kill. But because you're still here. Still fighting. Even when it hurts."

That night, when Moon Rage clawed at her, you sat beside her in the dark. Both of you breathing heavy. Broken weapons. Broken bones. But not broken wills.

You were a terrible investment.

Aventurine saw it immediately. The blood-stained coat. The dull eyes. The cough. And yet...

"You remind me of a bad bet I once made," he said with a grin. "Cost me my entire board. Worth every chip."

You didn’t laugh.

He still took you in.

With him, nothing was simple. He gambled with lessons. Taught you through failures. Made you fight your way to knowledge.

You hated how clever he was.

You hated that you wanted his approval.

But you stayed.

Then, during a midnight stroll through a Penacony alley, you froze.

Your past stood before you.

The mentor who vanished, smirk sharp as ever.

"Still clinging to someone else’s coattails, Aventurine's little project?"

Aventurine didn't speak. He only adjusted his glasses.

"Your new prodigy’s nothing but a cough away from death."

You didn’t sleep that night. You trained. You bled. You gambled with your lungs until they gave out.

Aventurine found you hours later, collapsed beside a shattered mirror.

"You idiot," he muttered. "You don’t have to prove anything to me."

You couldn’t speak. But you tried.

He crouched beside you, voice lower, almost trembling.

"I took you in because you remind me of myself. Not the masks. The broken part underneath. So don’t break more trying to win a game that’s already over."

He let you rest, just that once. No games. No masks.

Only understanding.

[postpunkindustrial]

World Contact Day

In 1953 an orginazation called The International Flying Saucer Bureau (IFSB) declared March 15th to be World Contact Day.

On World Contact Day was a day membersof the IFSB were urged that at 6:00 PM EST to lie down and telepathicly send out the following message;

Calling occupants of interplanetary craft! Calling occupants of interplanetary craft that have been observing our planet EARTH. We of IFSB wish to make contact with you. We are your friends, and would like you to make an appearance here on EARTH. Your presence before us will be welcomed with the utmost friendship. We will do all in our power to promote mutual understanding between your people and the people of EARTH. Please come in peace and help us in our EARTHLY problems. Give us some sign that you have received our message. Be responsible for creating a miracle here on our planet to wake up the ignorant ones to reality. Let us hear from you. We are your friends

Years later The Canadian Pop/Prog band Klaatu learned about the world contact day from a book called "The Flying Saucer Reader."

Being a Prog/Pop band called Klaatu in the 1970's this struck a chord and they wrote the song callied "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft."

A year later the Carpenters found the song and coveredit it on their album Passage.

Calling all occupants was released as a single in September 1977 (possibly to ride the Star Wars wave that was going on at the moment.)

This time the single added the tag line The recognized anthem of World Contact Day. (I have no idea what organziing body would recognize World Contact Day as the IFSB had disbanded but I'm sure anyone who had an interest in telepathicly contacting aliens would not complain about the publicity)

Eventually the song would be the ending number on their very Star Warsploitation TV special Space Encounters.

A brief nota about Albert Bender and the IFSB.

In 1952 Albert Bender formed the The International Flying Saucer Bureau or the IFSB for short.

In 1953 the bereau was abruptly shut down shortly after the first World Contact Day after Bender was apparantly contacted and threatened by three Men in Black.

His experiences would eventually be recorded in the book "They Knew Too Much About Flying Saucers". This helped enshrine The Men in Black into UFO folklore and start a chain of events that would lead to a hit movie franchise.

But most impotantly it lead to this killer advertising copy

In 2013 World contact day was made into World Contact Week.

So no rush.

[illusionarylibrary]

Cԋιʅԃ!Tɾαϝαʅɠαɾ Lαɯ & Lιɠԋƚ Fυɾყ!Rҽαԃҽɾ

Credits: HTTYD, One Piece

The Dragon

First Interaction

Forbidden Friendship

The Boy

View from the Other Side

Maybe Just a Little Longer

Lost Time

Ghost notes: the writing may be a bit messy, please forgive me. There are CWs at the start of every chapter, though the writing may not appear to require a CW; excuse my poor orginazation. It’s been quite a while since I wrote a series like this!

[kcuf-ad]

It’s been awhile since I’ve done this, I haven’t been feeling well SO to get my mind off 💕Le agony💕 and to start interacting better with my friends again SOOOO! :D

If You and your moots were in kagurabachi what kind of roles do you think everyone would play in 🤔 and if you guys had an ability of sorts what kind would you think they’d be and why 🤷‍♀️

Shit... I'm so sorry to hear Lav, and I will try my best to cheer you up with this.

There was a contest in Kagurabachi where fans would suggest themselves as sorcerers and who wins.... Gets killed by Chihiro. I'm not lying, that shit is real. So, we'd getting killed by Chihiro y'all.

Alright, fiine, I would not use a copout answer like that.

You'd most definitely be like Hiyuki in the Kamunabi and in that I mean, batshit insane in combat and will make whoever you fight beg for life. Like Hiyuki. Your Sorcery? Most definitely something regarding snakes, so probably named Orochi, and it can do pretty much whatever you want it to do with snakes. Turn into snakes, summons Snakes, have snake-like attributes and more.

@thundermarisol doesn't strike me as someone who would fight to the death, but I definitely see her being a therapist for so many sorcerors that have fought to death and those who have seen their friends basically die.

@sabellabella Gives me a vibe as someone who can be a rouge sorceror because something personal happening to them. Their Sorcery? Something that makes them more Draconic, so I would give them: Ryu. The same as yours, but a little bit more limited so that it doesn't turn them as a fully fledged dragon.

@blue-rose-penguin-prince For role? Kinda see him going as someone who was new to the Kamunabi, and has the ability of Ice: Kōri, having more of a icy-enviroment

(I need to find more Hishaku people, this is getting ridiculous.)

@the-geek-librarian Hishaku cuz of Yura (Fanoningly) simping for Desscaras. Joking, joking, but could you imagine? Nah, but I do not see her working as a Kamunabi at all. I more or less see her being kinda like Shiba in a sense, where she did work there, but quit. So she is now a Sorcerer like him that chills, but gets into fights when needed. Her Sorcery? I can see it being Water due to Lolopechka, so Mizu.

@artistic-endchamber IMMA BE REAL? Of the bat, their Sorcery will be Kage because of their favourite OC: Giana. Their role, however? I do see them working with the Masumi, an elite family of ninjas that are tasked to help someone, and I most definelty see them just pull a Nacht/Megumi and pull the enemies into shadows.

@starlightshadowsworld Your Sorcery will Gekkō, with the ability being exactly how Atsushi's works. The role? I don't really know. The Kamunabi, despite being a decent orginazation to work for, isn't the most ideal and doesn't strike me as something you would be in. The Hishaku is nothing like the Port Mafia despite the leader being goofy. So, when in doubt: ROUGE! Though I do see you being more or less like the Sword Weilders, where they have fought in the Seitei war, and are more or less known for saving the country for that, so like an old school rouge.

We are missing Hishaku members, so let me join them. Honest to god, despite them being the mafia, it seems more fun because you have people like Kuguri, Toto and Hiruhiko. Could you imagine all the shit that you would see them do. My chances of dying and getting killed by Chihiro though? At least 95%, but hey, that's the way I would go. My Sorcery? Honestly? Wind seems like the most useful for me, so Kaze.

I would do more, but just woke up and running out of ideas. Lol

[blah-blah-blah67]

Quick announcement

Since last year i was thinking about starting a Henry stickmin blog.

The blog will be about:

-the toppat clan

-My oc Raymond Necksnap

-My ocs friend group that contains: Fred Worst, Mr. Angery and Burt Curtis (who are all characters from the game)

-My other ocs, but im still "devoloping" them so they'll apear later in the story

-the characters' backstories

-An exploration of the THSC universe (for example: other criminal orginazations, who Gadget Gabe is, ect...)

Possibile trigger warnings in the story

I will always write at the begining of a post if it has TW.

The possibel trigger warnings that there will be:

-Family death

-Murder

-blood (but i will probably censor it in some way)

-smoking addiction

-substance abuse

-manipulation

-physical fighting

-trauma flashbacks

Those are all I can think of right now

How will it be made?

Here on tumblr i'll make comics that will tell the story but maybe on youtube i'll try making videos with voice acting (something similar to DennisLikesJazz's Toppat Tomfoolery series on yt)

Where i got the inspiration

When i read @lovelygirlnicole15 [i know your no longer in the fandom and if you want me to take this @ out i will ( ーー;) ] @capturecharlesau comics i wanted to create creative work like theirs. A few months earlier i remembered the comic dubs of @crown-of-roses-thsc comic and that gave the inspiration for the slightly darker tone of my story

I'll show you guys the name of the blog once i create it. Bye (　＾▽＾)

[gideonisms]

I want jonny sims to write the statement where somebody with a rote orginazation-based job has a shitty boss who is always looking at them and implying they're watching everything they do and sending other mysterious potential clients to watch them and controlling every aspect of their lives on the clock and figuring out every coping mechanism that makes things bearable and slowly taking each one away until it escalates into a demon possession type situation in which the boss literally takes charge of their body

[shinysparklesapphires]

with there only being a few chapters left until the end of showpre its time to announce my next fancure season! I've been so excited to announce it aaaa

Ami and Kay are normal high school freshman who run into a fairy named Coderu running from a weirdo named Bira who’s trying to capture him! Bira works for the Binary Bandits, an alien orginazation aiming to use technology to take over the planet! Not on our watch! “A cyan current running through your veins! I’ll give you a shock! Cure Cyber!” “All evil shall be eradicated by the green current, Cure Circut!”

We’re an IRL antivirus! Super Cipher Precure!