#and hes the kind of person so seek that out

[vrystalius]

May I request Hashira's reacting too waking up in the middle of the night with their (pre relationship) crush pressed up against them. Like not fully cuddling just subconsciously seeking them out for warmth separate bedrolls be damned (I've personally resorted to sleep walking to steal another person's body heat so no where is safe lmao)

I love all your work btw ✨✨✨

Sleepwalking into the hashira’s futon for warmth

It’s cold and you crave warmth. Where is a better place to sleepwalk into than into the futon of your crush?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x hashira!gn!reader

(Prologue)

The winter in Japan is always extremely cold, especially when you’re sleeping in a room without a heater. Yours broke down a while ago and now your whole estate is frozen over, forcing you to temporarily move into another hashira’s estate. To your luck, you were assigned to stay with your crush until the kakushi manage to repair your heater. Yet, the room you were sleeping in was freezing and your body knew that. You fell into a deep sleep and felt how you were suddenly surrounded by comforting warmth. Opening your eyes and glancing aside, you spotted…

…Sanemi Shinazugawa, who is sleeping without a blanket.

How the hell did you get here? Why do you have five different blankets stacked on top of you? And why is Sanemi sleeping next to you sp nonchalantly? You tried to crawl out beneath of the mountain of blankets, but your lack of energy stopped you from doing so. It was just so comfortable and warm and the smell of him all around you was kind of intoxicating. You’ve been depraved of warmth for too long to crawl away from it again.

You turned your head towards Sanemi again. He was facing away from you and looked to be deeply asleep. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and yet he sacrificed his blanket for you. You felt your face starting to flush, but not because of the blankets on top of you. He, Shinazugawa, the meanest and angriest of them all, tolerated you crawling into his bed like you own it and then hog his blanket, just to give you more blankets. Your heart felt like it was about to explode just from the sheer embarrassment and butterflies that are currently filling up your stomach. You fell back asleep with a bright grin on your face.

…Kyojuro Rengoku’s warm chest and arms being wrapped around you to keep you warm.

Oh gods, he’s so incredibly warm and comfortable! You never want to leave his arms, although you two aren’t dating. At least not yet and you really hope to change that soon. You seemingly sleepwalker into his bed and Kyojuro just welcomed you into his arms. He probably felt how freezing your body was and decided to warm you up with his touch. That’s just how he is, he always helps the one in need. Even the freezing ones that crawl into his bed uninvited.

He still looks so peaceful and deeply asleep, you’re not sure if he even woke up when his arms wrapped around you. Just as you finished the thought, Kyojuro’s arms pulled you a little closer as a quiet snore escaped his lips.

Perhaps he subconsciously is using you as some sort of teddy bear or body pillow. There’ll surely be a very interesting conversation in the morning when you wake up, but for now, you’ll take advantage of this. It’s not everyday that the flame hashira is cuddling and warming you up in his arms!

…Gyomei Himejima sleeping on the floor so you have more space for yourself.

His eyed were closed and he was seemingly asleep, but obviously uncomfortable. You had his large and warmed up bed all to yourself, with all the sheets and pillows. But Gyomei apparently didn’t mind to give all of that up for you and just take the space on the floor. You felt incredibly bad for sleepwalking into his bed and now hog all the warmth and space.

Gyomei trains under extreme conditions snd circumstances, so he deserves a good rest after all his hard work. You moved over to lay right beside him and draped the blanket over you two. You really hoped he didn’t mind to sleep side by side with you. Perhaps that’s the reason he wanted to give you his bed, so that you don’t feel uncomfortable in anyway. That sounds like something he would do.

You leaned your head against his bicep and closed your eyes again, starting to slip back into a deep sleep. Just before you travelled to the land of dreams, you felt the large weight beneath you shift and how you’re being tucked in with a large, warm blanket.

…How Giyu Tomioka was staring into your soul, mortified, sheets pulled over his chest.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

You were just as horrified as he was. Where are you? Is Giyu in your bed or are you in his? How did you even get here? You never wanted to crawl into a hole and bury yourself in it so badly. He moved out of the futon and stood up, looming over you. He looked extremely messy and sleepy, and in your opinion, very adorable.

“You know what? Stay. Keep my bed. I’m sleeping somewhere else.”

He slowly walked around the futon and towards the bedroom door, but you stopped him from leaving by scrambling out of his bed yourself.

“N-No, you can have it, it’s your bed!”

Giyu shook his head and waved you off.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to sleep in it anymore.”

You noticed the faint blush on his face but didn’t dare to point it out. Or else that man just might evaporate. Is the idea of sleeping in the same bed you invited yourself into so bad? Perhaps Giyu just can’t handle the thought of you cuddling up to him again. He won’t mention that to you either or else you both will evaporate out of shame.

💠

I luckily never sleepwalked, so I’m not sure how accurate this is XD This was very fun to write though, tysm for requesting, hope you enjoyed!! I always read your comments and reblogs so don’t be shy to leave some! I always thank you personally (in my mind, if that’s not weird :,) Maybe it’s my tiredness speaking XD)

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[tmntxthings]

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

~

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lastly impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall once more. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BROKEN SILENCE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ John Wick x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Angst!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Kidnapping, mentions of torture, trauma, ptsd, emotional and physical abuse, angst

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You are kidnapped by a mafia group seeking revenge on John Wick, enduring weeks of brutal torture for refusing to reveal his whereabouts. When John finally finds and rescues you, you're barely recognizable, shattered by the ordeal. He takes you home, gently caring for your wounds and helping you recover.

THE WAREHOUSE SMELLED OF BLOOD AND FEAR.

John Wick’s steps were eerily silent as he moved through the decimated hideout. The bodies littered around him were evidence of the storm he’d unleashed, his rage manifesting in every gunshot, every blade that tore through flesh. He had come for you, and nothing would stop him. The moment he heard you’d been taken—kidnapped, tortured—his world had become singular, focused on one thing: getting you back.

He kicked open the last door, heart hammering in his chest. The room was dark, save for a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. And there you were—tied to a chair in the center, bruised, bloody, barely recognizable. Your head hung low, limp like a ragdoll. The sight of you ripped something primal inside of him. He moved quickly, holstering his weapon, eyes scanning you for signs of life.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, dull and lifeless, yet still aware. You tried to lift your head, but the weight of your injuries and weeks of torment held you down.

His hands trembled as he untied the ropes binding you to the chair. Your wrists were raw, chafed from days of resistance. You hadn’t broken. Even when they starved you, drowned you, beat you until you could barely breathe, you hadn’t given them anything. Not a single word about John. Not a hint. But the cost of that defiance had hollowed you out, leaving behind a shell of the person you used to be.

When the ropes finally fell away, you collapsed into his arms, too weak to stand. He caught you easily, pulling you into his chest.

“John…” you croaked, your voice nothing more than a rasp, a faint echo of what it once was.

“I’m here," he murmured, holding you tightly. His voice broke, the cracks in his facade showing. “I’ve got you.”

You didn’t respond, and that killed him more than anything. You, who used to be so full of life, who laughed with such ease in his arms—now you were silent, staring past him with a blank, haunted look. He could feel the tremors running through your body as he carried you out of that hellhole, each step a reminder of the weeks of suffering you’d endured without him. Each step weighed down by the guilt that crushed him.

When he brought you home, it didn’t feel like home anymore. The warmth had bled out of the walls, leaving only a cold, empty space that mirrored the emptiness in your eyes.

John helped you into the bathroom, his touch gentle, almost afraid of breaking you further. Your skin was marred with bruises, cuts, the evidence of everything they’d done to you. He drew a bath, the steam rising in the small space as he eased you into the water. You winced, your body so broken that even the warm water felt like a new kind of torment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, though he wasn’t sure if you even heard him. His fingers were careful as they washed away the grime and blood, every touch a silent apology. He washed your hair, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each gesture might undo the horrors of what had happened.

But you were silent still, your eyes closed, face pale and gaunt. You didn’t cry. You hadn’t cried once since he found you. He didn’t know whether that was a relief or a worse kind of nightmare.

After the bath, he dressed you in one of his shirts, the fabric hanging loosely on your fragile frame. He led you to bed, helping you under the covers, though you lay there like a ghost, staring at the ceiling.

~

Days passed, and you began to speak again. Slowly, haltingly, like you were relearning how. At first, it was a few words, barely audible.

"Thank you," you'd whisper when he brought you food, though you never ate more than a few bites.

"Okay," you’d mutter when he asked if you needed anything, though your voice always trailed off, as if you were unsure of what you were saying.

He watched you, never leaving your side for long. He was patient, though the fire inside him still raged—a quiet, controlled fury, always on the verge of exploding.

One night, as he sat beside you, you turned to him. Your face was drawn, eyes glassy, but there was something behind them now. Something fragile, yet real.

“John…” Your voice wavered, and for the first time, he saw the tears welling up, the flood you’d been holding back. His heart clenched in his chest as you reached for him, fingers trembling.

He was by your side in an instant, taking your hand, feeling the chill of your skin.

“They… they didn’t stop.” Your voice cracked, and then the dam broke. “They kept… they kept hitting me. They tried to drown me. They wanted me to tell them where you were… but I didn’t, John. I didn’t tell them.”

Your words came out in gasps, sobs choking you as the weight of everything you’d endured came crashing down.

“I thought… I thought I was going to die. Every day, I thought this would be it. And I kept thinking about you… about how I couldn’t give them anything, not after everything we’ve been through.” Your voice wavered, breaking. “But it hurt so much, John. It hurt so much.”

He held you then, pulling you into his arms, his heart shattering with every word you spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

You buried your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body, and for the first time since he found you, you cried. You let it all out—the fear, the pain, the hopelessness you’d carried for so long. And John held you through it all, his hands trembling as he rocked you gently, whispering the same promises again and again.

“I’m done,” he said quietly, his voice low but firm. “I’m done with this life. I’m not losing you again. I’m not doing this anymore.”

You didn’t respond, but he felt the way your grip tightened on him, the way your body finally relaxed in his arms. He made the vow then, to you, to himself. The world could burn, but you were all that mattered now.

John Wick, the assassin, was no more.

———

I watched the first two John Wick movies today and I’m lowkey crushing on John so i decided to write something small…i might make more oneshots about him🤷🏽‍♀️

[somemydayy]

yandere! guardian angel x reader

guardian angel is supposed to protect and guide you. he puts time and effort into maintaining your peace and safety so imagine his horror when you choose to blindly trust and follow such depraved people.

at first guardian angel solely said it was for your own spiritual salvation, keeping those soul sucking recruiters away from your pure and genuine soul. he was more so concerned with your own spiritual healing then you converting.

but as time went on, he started looking at your horrible dating history, the men you choose to let into your life were horribly deprived fiends. he had half a mind to deal with them on the spot, although that wouldn’t be quite angel like now would it. but as time went on, your dating habits turned from bad to worse. dating emotionally unavailable, constipated man-child, narcissists foul mouth filth that were lower then gum stick on the sole of a shoe. because that’s what they were, because a real decent man much less decent person would continue to deceive such a kind hearted person like you.

at first you started to think there was something wrong with yourself, why weren’t you getting dates, no good men would treat you like that right? but the only ones you were able to attract were not so kind and honest. you prayed to your guardian angel to make you change. to save your soul and heart, give a chance to you. give you a gift of a beautiful relationship with a loving and respectful partner.

at first he started seeking happiness for you, pleading to his superiors to give you the saving grace to lead a healthy, and happier life. but then the thought no mortal men could compare to your ethereal splendor sent him down a rabbit hole known as obsession. at first, it started with him obsessively looking out for your health, heart and safely. then it progressed into him obviously wanting, obsessing over your love life. he couldn’t comprehend how such a beautiful soul such as you could only attract bad men. because to guardian angel all men were unworthy of your love, much less your existence.

guardian angel started sabotaging your dates, he would show up to the potential date’s house and started leaving warnings and letters detailing how they weren’t a match, and how you deserved way better then them. at first it was advice, he detailed his opinions on how it wouldn’t last and divulging into unhinged rants. the date would usually brush it off, at first but then they started receiving threats and unsatisfactory responses to they’re continued behavior and communication to you. guardian angel even started causing problems with the other guardian angels, causing distress and disruptions in paperwork and other-worldly relationships so the other angel wouldn’t be present to attend to that man, but be busy with work.

he started off with petty stuff, like tripping them and throwing strong winds into their path, rain and thunderstorms. but unfortunately this man was a little too persistent. rain or shine, he would always make his way to the date. unfortunately every attempt to distract him, even inconvenience him was futile because he was too persistent, so guardian angel became petty and started sabotaging the dates. the waiter that spilled a entire tray of plates of food on your date, was his doing. the dog chasing after him and bit off the fabric of one of his pants legs, as he climbed up a tree was devious but satisfying. still that wasn’t enough to scare the man off, so guardian angel decided he would shamelessly make his life hell on earth.

guardian angel started sabotaging his professional development and career. the promotion was delayed, ended with another person receiving such promotions. the stress of work got to the man, unable to make further progress, resulting in a demotion. work was horribly stressful and home life wasn’t much better. from having a great relationship with his family, it dwindled into nonexistent. work was consuming, familial relationships was on the rocks. the tipping point was when you recommended a change of hairstyle to liven his mood. but you accidentally bleached his hair, too much resulting in him having it all fall off. he fell off the cliff, blew up calling you every name in the book. pressure and unrealistic expectations were constantly adding pressure to him, and he exploded at you.

guardian angel made it so, the pressure was consuming and the things he said were rooted in your worst insecurities and even traumas. guardian angel wasn’t even phased when you broke up with that undeserving man on the spot. he cried and pleaded with you, but guardian angel didn’t relent. one misfortune after another had that man crumbling, he even had a little trouble with the law. ex boyfriend started stalking and threatening you, soon afterwords.

but don’t worry, you’re guardian angel took care of it. unconditional (obession) love was his drive, so he made sure you’re life would go back to normal, before you were intertwined with such individuals. guardian angel’s love reached a point of no return, and now he wouldn’t care to share you with anyone else.

guardian angel only had one goal, in mind. keeping you safe and healthy. but his only motivation was corrupted along the way. he only desired you, being his. only his forever and always. he plagued your dating life, with misfortune with the sole purpose of being your saving grace. he made sure, he would be your one and last hope for your happy ever after.

© Somemydayy 2024 | Please do not copy or alter this writing on Tumblr or any other platform.

[lightlycareless]

Need a moment we're Naoki Is just straight jealous of naoya, of his relationship with y/n, and how he feels that should've been him. How he tried to play it off as him hating naoya, but deep down he's just hurt because he thought that maybe, there could've been some part of y/n that wanted him too .

OOF this ask... I know most of my readers hate Naoaki rn but I gotta say I still have a special place for him in my heart hahahah I don't know what to call it, there's just... something about him that doesn't allow me to let go.

Anyways, this inspired the following :) I hope you enjoy it!

warnings: none. just a naoaki that realizes he gravely miscalculated everything. (he's my interpretation of naoya's brother from over here... proceed with caution)

Naoaki becoming jealous, or more like completely desolate would finally happen the moment he sees you happily receive Naoya back home.

Up to that point, he’d always seen you cower, doing your best to avoid the abuse of your husband, using him as cover even if Naoaki wasn’t all too enthusiastic about it. He had other plans involving you, after all.

Yet, as much as he disliked being used that way, he was glad to see that the rupture in your relationship was so deep, there seemed no possibility you’d ever find your way back to your estranged husband. Ever!

It was simply impossible. He’d done so much to hurt you—a miracle would be needed to mend his mistakes; for you to believe in his so-called redemption.

…

Nonetheless, that’s exactly what happened. As if by God’s decree, Naoya just… began to change. One morning he simply acknowledged all of his wrongful doings, subsequently growing regretful and wanting to mend them—starting apparently caring for you, ha! Now, isn’t that hilarious??

Even then, Naoaki still believed you couldn’t be so naïve to be tempted by Naoya’s blatant manipulation: it was obvious that his brother was trying to pull you back to him, fearing he might’ve been losing his grasp on you! Much to his personal delight.

That would only prove, however, how gravely he’s miscalculated your nature, the same one he took great advantage of for his own purposes, now directed onto his own brother.

You were just to… stupid for your own good, Naoaki regretfully mused, too gullible to believe that people could change; dangerous to be left alone.

But isn’t that what he expected from you, though? What he wanted for himself?

Certainly, for a part of him, buried deep beneath the anger he harbored against his brother and clan… hoped that you’d see good in him too?

Longing that the time you’ve spent together provided something more than just a haven for you to seek solace in, or reasons for him to exploit against his brother…?

Genuienly, perhaps innocently, Naoaki thought you’d grown affectionate of him through these moments— like he had become, unable to remember the last time he approached you out of benefit for his ulterior motives.

Yet, he seemed to be the only one to think so, for as time went on, days becoming nothing but a blur, his presence in your mind slowly disappeared, redirected instead to your dreadful husband—

Your warm welcomes, your joyful jests, the eagerness to know of his day accompanied by a tasty meal, enrichened by your bright, wide eyes filled with excitement at every word he said…

All those wonderful things… weren’t his anymore. No. All of them belonged to Naoya now.

Or perhaps they never did; just like everything regarding him and his brother, the heir always took priority.

And such, Naoaki eventually accepted the fact that out of the two, only he was foolish enough to want more than what he initially anticipated; to desire something intimate, for the sake of his own happiness, or perhaps just wanting to seek validation through the only person he believed would be kind enough to do so…

But you moved on. Using him as a steppingstone to make amends with your husband, the so-called love of your life as your blushing face and meek demeanor would declare soon enough.

…

Naoaki should be gravely hurt by these admittances, but another part of him reminded him this wasn’t the first time he’s ever been betrayed. Delegated to second place against the beloved heir, the prodigious sorcerer everyone seems to venerate, you included.

Leaving him to endure the rest of his dreadful life on his own.

Guess his father was right when saying he wasn’t meant for anything beyond failure, a lost cause that ought to give up before he brought long any more shame to the clan.

Just as he claimed you to be as well, though Naoaki would now have to disagree, because after all that happened between you, him, and Naoya…

He can finally assess the painful truth:

You were always like them—you just needed… the right motivation to accept so.

[lifes-pinata]

Duck and Mytho, A Relationship Analysis

BY POPULAR DEMAND (10 notes and 1 prompt by a blog I follow and admire)

Duck and Mytho are obviously so very important to each others stories. Without Duck, Mytho would have remained a heartless doll forever. And without Mytho, Duck would have remained a simple bird. The story cannot exist without Duck, and up until the last few episodes, Mytho remains her primary motivation.

Which is why is was so surprising to me that the way their relationship resolved was so..... Unsatisfying.

Now when I say that, I am not talking about Siegfried and Tutu's resolution, which remains one of the most touching scenes of the show. I am specifically talking about the relationship between Mytho and Duck.

For the first 14 episodes, Duck and Mytho's friendship was a slow but steady burn. Duck is an anomaly in Mytho's small world. Even heartless, he doesn't quite know what to make of her. "Fakir and Rue don't say things like that" he says in episode 3, when Duck reacts to his hurt hand.

Duck, as a person, represents something Mytho never encountered even when he was Siegfried. Her simple, straightforward kindness is so different from Rue's desperate, grasping love. Fakir's poisonous protection, and even the blushing, tittering classmates that never dare to speak to him.

And even though Mytho can't express it, I think it's really valuable to him. Early on, Duck is the only person capable of making his loneliness disappear. Not Rue or Fakir, who he's known for years (which he says to their faces oh my GOD) but Duck. The first request he makes is that she stays a little longer.

The entire first arc Duck continually proves herself to be trustworthy. Once Mytho returned to school after receiving the feeling of fear, Duck tackle hugs him, saying she looked for him everywhere. She knows about Princess Tutu, and is the only one who listens to him. Who doesn't talk over him. She brought him an umbrella when he was waiting for Tutu. He values her opinion enough that he asked her opinion on gifts to get someone. And yeah maybe he could have asked anyone, but we never see him seek someone out until the Raven's Blood kicks in.

In episode 14, Mytho says to Duck, straight out "You're the only friend whom I can tell everything." And then? They never interact again? Huh???

Well. That's not entirely true. There is one more scene where Duck and Mytho interact, if you believe that Mytho was lucid enough to truly count it. Episode 24, where Mytho has fully succumbed to the Raven's blood, and as a result has turned into a raven himself. He runs outside, after being hidden away by Rue, and finds Duck. And what does he do? He asks her to dance, just as he did on the day of the fire festival. But this time, Duck doesn't answer. She backs away from the monster he's become, just like everyone else.

To its credit, that is a resolution, but it still doesn't sit right with me. It feels too bleak in a story where hope overcomes everything else. A spot where Drosselmeyer's tragedy wins.

The thing is, I understand why they did it this way. One thing I have always appreciated about Princess Tutu is that there is no wasted time. Even at the beginning of the show, when it seemed lighter and sillier, every episode contained important information. From the very beginning, they were building to the finale.

The second arc of the show is even more this way, there is no wasted space. Where would they even put Duck and Mytho interactions? Duck is reckless but she knows better then to approach Mytho when he's actively trying to rip out the hearts of their classmates. If anything, trying to shoehorn interactions would come across as forced, and could even cheapen their interactions in the finale.

But as much as I love the scene where Mytho realizes that Princess Tutu was a duck. I also wish he had a moment to realize that the duck was Duck.

Because Princess Tutu performed magic and returned heart shards with her beautiful dancing.

But Duck did the hard work of being human. Of living and loving and trying and failing and getting back up.

It was Duck who saved the town in the end.

And it was Duck, who was ultimately forgotten.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Hello! How would Jeff, laughing Jack and Masky be with a reader just as crazy as them? Thank you!

Flashing gif trigger warning!!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

When he first meets them and realizes they match his freak, he’s actually not too happy

Between his deeply rooted narcissism and insecurity, he immediately sees them as a threat

Like,,, what do you mean some random newbie is similar to him? He’s supposed to be the specialist boy ever!!

He doesn’t want to lose his place, so he tries to talk them down or get rid of them to eliminate the competition

Only once it becomes clear they’re there to stay does he finally *somewhat* chill out about it

Like, when he realizes they aren’t a threat to his place in the mansion, only then will he start to take more of an interest

He’ll try to test them to see if they’re the real deal or if they’re just some poser

And the more they pass his little tests, the more they can prove themselves to him, the more he’ll develop an appreciation toward them

If they truly match his freak, chances are, the relationship will initially start as a friends-with-benefits kind of deal

And as he progressively becomes more attached, he’ll increasingly become more possessive

There might not be an official title to their relationship, but it eventually becomes clear that they’re exclusive

(They have his extremely possessive jealousy to thank for that)

And from that point on, they’ll become unstoppable

Crazy obsessive and dangerously explosive, they’ll quickly develop a reputation as being a couple you do not fuck with

And they’ll become absolutely inseparable

Because, although extremely rare, when Jeff finds someone he genuinely likes and trusts, he becomes loyal like a dog

Assuming his partner shares the same sentiment, the two would—quite literally—die for another

It’s an unhealthy kind of love, but it’s the ideal scenario for both of them

Even despite this love-sick obsession, the two are likely to bicker and argue a lot because fighting is practically one of Jeff’s love languages

So it wouldn’t be the healthiest relationship out there, but either way, Jeff probably wouldn’t go back to a normal relationship after meeting his crazy s/o

After all, where's the fun in being normal?~

Masky

Masky’s biggest red flag is his lack of emotional regulation

If he’s not having an outburst of anger, he’s drowning his sorrows in some kind of substance abuse

Or he’s just full-on dissociating

So, again, a relationship with someone similar to him probably isn’t going to be the healthiest

Instead of uplifting one another and helping each other get better, the two are likely going to drag each other down

Especially if they’re both proxies dealing with the same kind of stressful work

Which means more substance abuse and a lot of fighting

It might get to the point where someone—probably Hoodie—will likely have to intervene

But even despite any friction in their relationship, they’re likely to always gravitate back to one another

They definitely develop toxic codependency

They'll also probably realize that their relationship isn’t the healthiest one out there

But at the same time, because they’re so similar, they find a lot of comfort within one another

And sometimes it feels like parting ways would leave them worse off anyways

So there’s definitely this kind of bitter-sweetness to their relationship

And, at the very least, if one of them ever manages to seek help, they could encourage the other to do the same

So they do still have a chance of saving each other

Like Jeff, Masky’s a very loyal person, so he’ll never give up on his s/o

And he’ll appreciate knowing they wouldn’t give up on him either

So, like I said, definitely bitter-sweet

But, hey, at least Masky will no longer feel like he’s alone in the world

Laughing Jack

On God—it would be mad intense for a human to be as crazy as LJ

They’d have to be super fucked up to compare to a literal monster like him

And, LJ, not being used to seeing a human with that kind of attitude, would be utterly enthralled

He’d think it’s hilarious

He’d make them do all kinds of fucked up things just for his own personal amusement

And every time they do as he says he’d fall more and more crazily obsessed over them—especially if they enjoy it too

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this previously, but I don’t think LJ is capable of feeling love like a normal person

I think he can feel obsession, fascination, amusement, and joy, though—which is what would overall more closely resemble his sentiment toward his s/o

And the more they’d surpass his expectations of their limits and boundaries, the stronger these sentiments would manifest

His s/o would sort of become like his little human pet project

And he’ll be damn proud of the monster he’s created

Honestly, even despite his feelings toward them, I think there’s a chance he’ll derive pleasure from torturing them

And if they keep crawling back to him—even despite everything he does to them—he'll definitely have earned his respect

He might even go so far as to mark them—which will make him super possessive of them

Like, he actively won’t allow any other demons near them, and he might not even be too fond of humans coming into contact with them, either

He’ll see them as this kind of valuable possession he’s played a crucial role in crafting

Sure, they were already nuts to begin with, but he molded them perfectly to his liking—and now they belong to him and him only

Honestly, needless to say, but this definitely isn’t a healthy relationship

But, if his s/o truly is as crazy as him, it’s not like they'd care, anyways

If anything, it's the poor souls that have the misfortune of running into them that'll suffer the worst fate

[merwgue]

Rhysand’s treatment of Nesta is a direct parallel to the abusive behavior we saw with Tamlin, yet it’s often excused or even praised by the fandom. When Rhysand locked Nesta up in the House of Wind, cut her off from the outside world, and isolated her under the guise of “helping” her, it was eerily similar to what Tamlin did to Feyre in A Court of Mist and Fury. But instead of the outrage that followed Tamlin’s actions, Rhysand’s behavior is viewed as justifiable, as though trauma gives him a free pass. It doesn't.

Let’s break it down: Rhysand threatened to send Nesta to the human lands, essentially exiling her to a place she had no ties to and would be utterly alone. This wasn’t a mere threat—it was emotional blackmail, an effort to bend her to his will. Then he locked her up in the House of Wind. Nesta, a woman already struggling with mental health issues, was physically isolated from the world and people she could turn to. This type of confinement is abuse. Tamlin did the same to Feyre, locking her away in the Spring Court, and we all saw how that broke her spirit. But when Rhysand did it to Nesta, it was somehow considered necessary? It’s hypocrisy at its finest.

What makes it even worse is that Rhysand’s abuse of Nesta escalates in HOFAS (A Court of Frost and Starlight). When Bryce Quinlan steals the Trove from Nesta, Rhysand completely loses control. His power flares, and he starts breaking tables, throwing a tantrum like a man unhinged. It’s the same explosive behavior Tamlin displayed, the same violent outbursts that were condemned. Even Ember Quinlan, who witnesses this scene, is reminded of her own abuser. Rhysand’s lack of control is terrifying, and yet the narrative glosses over it. A High Lord, someone with immense power, should not be this unstable, especially when it comes to matters of family. If Rhysand can’t handle these personal situations without lashing out in violence, what kind of ruler is he really?

And let’s not forget that Rhysand threatened to execute Nesta. In HOFAS, his rage toward her reaches such a boiling point that he seriously considers taking her life. This is supposed to be the same man who prides himself on offering “freedom” and “choice,” yet he’s perfectly willing to control, confine, and even kill a woman who defies him. How is this any different from Tamlin’s overprotective, suffocating behavior toward Feyre? The answer is: it isn’t.

Rhysand’s relationship with Nesta isn’t just abusive, it’s hypocritical. He uses the same tactics that he once condemned Tamlin for—alienation, threats, isolation, and intimidation. The difference is, the narrative excuses it because Rhysand is supposedly a “better” man. But if we look at his actions, especially in HOFAS, they tell a different story. His anger, his need for control, and his willingness to use violence to enforce his will all point to a man who is just as dangerous as the villains the story seeks to overthrow.

It’s clear that Rhysand’s behavior toward Nesta is abusive, both physically and emotionally. The fact that he explodes in rage when Bryce takes the Trove from her, breaking tables and creating a scene of chaos, is just another example of how unstable and dangerous he truly is. If this is how he treats someone close to him, how does he treat his subjects? His people? What happens when someone else steps out of line or defies him?

The truth is, Rhysand’s so-called “freedom” is conditional. He offers choice and liberty, but only to those who fall in line. To those who don’t—whether it’s Tamlin, Nesta, or anyone else—he responds with violence, manipulation, and control. And the fact that his behavior is excused within the story, while Tamlin’s is vilified, shows just how deep the double standard runs.

Rhysand may be the High Lord of the Night Court, but his actions prove that he’s no better than the man he claims to despise. His treatment of Nesta is just another example of his abusive tendencies, and the way he handles conflict—whether with family or enemies—shows just how unfit he is to lead. A ruler who responds to defiance with threats, isolation, and violence is no ruler at all. He’s a tyrant, plain and simple.

[xx-babyyyblue-xx]

Slytherin Boys Personality

I have now been able to do all of the boys personalities. Let me know if there is anything I left out please

Draco Malfoy: 

Evil personality that can be redeemed with enough work, or with the love of a certain someone. Refers to his girl as his Princess. Daddy issues.

Ambitious: Drive for power, recognition, and success as well as uphold his family legacy and prove himself as a worthy member of a pure-blood wizard community

Proud: Superiority complex that leads to displays of condescension and arrogance. Can get him into trouble because he may say things that he does not mean out of anger because the prejudice is what he knows 

Insecure: Despite outward confidence, struggles with deep seated insecurities that has him constantly seeking validation and approval from his peers (and his parents). This fuels his need to prove himself and maintain a certain image. 

Short Temper: Loses his cool very quickly due to his need to be right and prove himself, but will attempt to make it right fairly quickly 

Blaze Zabini

Probably the most positive and playful out of the entire group

Loyal: Loyal to a fault. His friends are above everything, even his love interest at times. They are the ones who are going to decide everything for him even if he doesnt realize it is happening 

Sensitive: Overly sensitive to the point where he is going to start arguments over little things. He doesnt enjoy PDA because he feels that it makes him look weak and he does not want to be perceived that way. On the plus side, his sensititiviy to things also means he always dresses well and smells really nice

Smart: Definitely the best study buddy. He is the person that others would copy off of it 

Playful: The kind of guy that is going to playully tease you but never in a way that will make you upset. 

Player: He is attractive and he knows it and will often playfully flirt in order to make things go his way. 

Lorenzo Berkshire

Short Temper and Holds a Grudge: Will get angry very quickly and then ignore you for days until he realizes that he misses you and makes it up to you by doing something that shows you that he cares. 

Trust Issues: He is the kind of guy that would create a fake account to “catch” you cheating or will flirt with a girl whenever you are talking to much to another boy

Funny: Has a great sense of humor because of all of the things that he has been through in his life. When everything is at his best, he is a very happy person. 

Mattheo Riddle

Daddy issues and a drug addict who loves sometimes a little too hard and a little too much 

a highly imaginative, highly intelligent, and highly sensitive person, gets into fights

Possessive: He will defend the things and people that belong to him or have value to him and does not care about the consequences

Toxic and loves to party- will be the kind of guy who will pull you back and forth in a relationship but its not because he doesnt actually have feelings for you, but because he doesnt know how to handle them when he does have them. 

Tom Riddle

Smart: Smart without even trying and makes it known whenever you make a mistake because you are therefore dumb in comparison

Jealous: What's his is his and he will take anyone down whom he believes is going to take away the things that are his

Anger issues: Does not know how to cool down and won’t admit when he is wrong. Instead, when he realizes that he is even slightly in the wrong he will attempt to make up for it and move past it without actually talking about it 

Theodore Nott

French in a lot of ways: Smoker, calls you Bella for beautiful, and is rude 

Protective: The kind of person who is going to drop kick anyone that says anything negative about you or any of his people. 

Troublemaker: He does not care about the rules so he will do what he has to do in order to make his point known. He is always in trouble of some kind and that gets in the way of a lot of things. 

Player: Has had many many girlfriends and has a list of people that he needs to avoid because of the way that he has toyed with and broken their heart 

[n-i-m-u-e]

The fucking absolutely wonderful cat! pt. 2

a few people here have asked about a sequel to this, and it's kind of, although it's not really a sequel to the Sir Pum story (sorry!), but rather a prequel from Luke's point of view (hence the stylistic difference with the first part) anyway-

The thing is, Luke wasn’t used to being alone. Life at Dragonstone was always bustling—he had training sessions with Jace and Daemon (even it weren’t very successful), lessons with maester Gerardys (much more successful), walks in the garden with Rhaena, and games of hide-and-seek with Joffrey (if he was persistent enough). He read to Aegon and Viserys (when he wanted to avoid active conversation), helped his mother with letters (she always praised his handwriting), and flew with Arrax (constantly losing track of time)…

He had never been alone.

And now everything had changed.

Now Luke was locked in the Red Keep; he was a prisoner, not free to go wherever he pleased or fly all day. He missed everyone terribly. And he was alone. In the first weeks, he didn’t see anyone except for the servants, who brought full trays of food twice a day and, almost just as full, took them away.

Everything began to change after that horrible incident with Helaena and the twins.

In the pre-dawn hour, Luke woke to footsteps and loud shouting in the corridor outside his door. The words were hard to make out, but even half-asleep, he unmistakably recognized the voices belonging to two people. Aegon was shouting, his voice trembling with rage, while the second voice responding to him seemed remarkably calm—it belonged to Aemond. This went on for several minutes, during which Luke tried to stifle his breath to catch any part of their argument, but the walls were too thick, and the door was locked, as always. It was clear that this was not an ordinary sibling quarrel, especially since they wouldn’t come to argue right outside his room in the middle of the night. Eventually, the voices began to fade away - Luke could not make out anything - and the boy could only toss and turn in bed until dawn in his anxious thoughts, sometimes falling into slumber.

That morning, at the usual hour, the door opened—the silent servants who usually brought Luke breakfast and warm water for washing entered, but the door didn’t close behind them, as a moment later, another person entered.

Aemond appeared in the room—calm, unflinching, and standing very straight with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression completely detached and cold. He waited until the servants set down the staff and left, shutting the door behind them. They were alone, and this was their first meeting since Luke had been locked away here.

“Last night, there was an attack on Helaena and the children,” Aemond stated, stubbornly ignoring Luke’s gaze and looking directly over his head.

Luke blinked in shock, as he didn’t immediately grasp the meaning of what he had just heard.

“What… Who?…”

“Your mother, apparently. Or Daemon… They sent people who attacked them, wounding Helaena and nearly killing Jaehaerys.”

“No… Mom would never order that…”

“Maybe not, but it was easier for them to get to my sister than to you.”

It seemed now Luke realized the reason for the shouts that had woken him earlier that morning. Of course, Aegon was furious. If something had happened to his son, it was unlikely Luke would have survived either. For a moment, Lucerys felt an irrational guilt that the people clearly sent by his parents to fetch him instead chose to threaten the most innocent—Helaena and her children—in this dreadful place. He had to remind himself that he was here against his will, and if it weren’t for his crazy uncle, the same one who so stubbornly refused to look him in the eye now, no one would have been attacked.

“I…”

“The palace guard has been doubled. And your guard, too. I personally chose the men for this.”

Luke understood this was a warning, but he wasn’t trying to escape anyway, even though perhaps he should have. But it was him—seemingly, he was indeed the coward Aemond undoubtedly thought him to be.

“How is Helaena? How—”

“You’ll ask her yourself. She’s been asking about meeting you from the start. My mother and I… decided it wouldn’t hurt. You can have lunch together… or something like that.”

With that, his uncle, with an uncharacteristic haste, left Luke, who didn’t even have time to open his mouth to ask anything else.

From that day on, Luke's routine improved a bit. He began to see Helaena and the little ones regularly. They walked together in the garden after breakfast every day, and those moments brought Luke a sense of normalcy. His silent aunt was much better company than the chaotic swirl of sad thoughts in his head. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera reminded him of Aegon and little Vyserys, though they were much quieter children than his younger brothers. Sometimes he also visited the library—of course, under the watchful eye of the guards—but he could choose books he liked on his own. For some reason, these were usually the poetry collections loved by Rhaena or the same fairy tales he had read to Aeg and Vis.

There was another change, the strangest one. For some unknown reason, he now also saw Aemond almost daily. No, all of his uncle’s visits had some logical reason: checking on Luke’s guard, relaying some minor news, or simply claiming 'had some free time to see my nephews'. Luke hadn’t considered himself among the latter until one day, Helaena, without looking up from her embroidery and with a dreamy smile, remarked in her soft, quiet voice:

“I welcome this wonderful change, brother. It’s nice that a man who recently found solace only in swords and books is now getting much more joy from living company.”

Aemond mumbled something unintelligible in response to her words, then nearly left the garden in a rush. However, Helaena didn’t seem flustered. Even more, as far as Luke could tell, his aunt seemed somewhat amused.

“He’s so confused. Give him a time, Lucerys.”

Luke was also confused but didn’t ask her what she meant. Helaena often spoke in riddles and rarely answered direct questions.

And yet, every time Aemond was nearby, a strange tension hung in the air. At first, it was because Luke instinctively tensed up—after all, this was the same man who had captured and imprisoned him here. But later, when Luke, with surprise and disbelief, realized that his uncle’s presence was becoming less unwelcome, that in some ways—even more than his time with Helaena—it eased the loneliness that had haunted him in the early days at the Red Keep, the tension took on a different color.

Because from time to time, when they accidentally forgot about the awkwardness that usually lay between them, they ended up having quite interesting conversations. And, to his secret delight, Luke discovered that he knew Valyrian far better than his uncle. At first, he almost couldn’t resist teasing him—just like he would with Jace when his brother made a mistake in pronunciation or mixed up words. But then a memory of that fateful dinner surfaced, and what his careless attempt to provoke his uncle into “contact”—as he usually did when Jace became overly and unbearably serious—had led to. Luke had somehow assumed that Aemond, who appeared so strong and unshakable, wouldn’t be truly bothered by his foolish mockery. He should have known better—he didn’t.

But the most wonderful thing, if such a sentiment could be expressed regarding anything about Luke’s time here, happened after he met the cat.

He knew from the maids that Aegon had executed all the castle's rat catchers because one of those who had attacked Helena was allegedly a rat catcher. Well, if anyone benefited from this, it was the rats. So on Sir Otto's orders, several dozen cats were brought to the castle. And from the moment Luke was allowed to leave his chambers, he noticed small, fluffy shadows in the corridors out of the corner of his eye. But none of the animals approached him. Until one stormy morning.

The weather had been raging since late in the evening, and Luke didn't really want to wake up. Because bad weather meant that he and Hel would not go to the garden, it meant that he was unlikely to leave his room at all today.

Through his sleep, Luke felt a strange, warm weight on his legs. At first, before he was fully awake, he thought he was just tangled in the blanket, but after a moment he realized that the weight was suspiciously “alive.” Sitting up on his elbows, Lucerys saw that a large cat was lying on the edge of the bed, right on his feet, calmly licking his paw. Luke froze, looking at the strange visitor.

The cat was large and massive, with long reddish fur, a lush mustache, and one eye. And that eye, a deep green crystal, looked at Luke intently, showing neither fear nor curiosity.

Luke slowly sat down and, just as slowly, moved his legs out from under the cat. The cat didn't move, only lazily raised its head, as if assessing whether this sudden movement was worthy of attention.

“Where did you come from?” Luke muttered, trying to cope with the morning hoarseness in his voice and his own surprise.

The cat only moved its ears a little. There was something soothing about the creature, something that reminded Luke of home, even though they had never had a cat there. And though the cat was a far cry from a dragon, its presence was surprisingly comforting, and a bit like how Arrax had felt.

Luke tried to gently reach out to pet the animal, “Well, the cat didn't lose its eye because of you, so it's unlikely to overreact to an attempt to get close,” he thought ironically, but stopped when he considered the wild look in its single eye and the sharp claws he had already noticed.

“Okay, okay. Then I won't touch you,” he calmed quietly and lowered his hand back down.

Suddenly, the creature jumped onto the bed next to him and rolled over. Luke stared in surprise. The cat was looking at him with the same calm gaze, now more inviting, and he saw a playful twinkle in its eye.

“You mean I can?” - he asked timidly, and the cat immediately rolled over on its side, exposing its furry belly. Luke still touched the soft fur lightly.

The cat did not move away or run away. On the contrary, having sniffed Luceris' hand, he purred softly in response to the light stroking and lay down on his (licked) forelegs. As he buried his fingers in the warm and soft fur, the boy suddenly felt a tingling tenderness. It was nice to have someone around who didn't care who Luke was.

As he continued to pet the animal, the young prince allowed himself to smile - this quiet interaction with this creature, for the first time in a long time, made his morning almost happy.

“Will you stay?” Luke asked in a whisper, not expecting an answer. The cat just yawned and stretched out on the bed, taking up even more space.

That was the answer.

I had time to write only late night, so there are definitely mistakes here somewhere, and if you can point it out or maybe just want to say me something else, I will be grateful :)

[star-spacer]

Peace and All Else

Part of my Heart Pirates x Reader series: The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

With a life as chaotic as yours, you preferred quietness where you could find it.

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos. 

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

The Censorship of Books by Virginia Woolf

An essay published in the journal "Nineteenth Century and After" (April 1929) as part of a symposium on censorship.

As the law stands at present, a police magistrate has the right to destroy as obscene any book which he thinks likely to corrupt the mind of any reader who is liable to be corrupted.

If it is advisable to entrust anyone with such power – of which I am doubtful – obviously the time has come when the nature of what is corrupting and thus destroyable must be more clearly defined.

Nor is it difficult to suggest what lines that definition should follow.

There can be no doubt that books fall, in respect of indecency, into two classes.

There are books written, published and sold with the object of causing pleasure or corruption by means of their indecency.

There is no difficulty in finding where they are to be bought, nor in buying them when found.

There are others whose indecency is not the object of the book, but incidental to some other purpose – scientific, social, aesthetic – on the writer’s part.

The police magistrate’s power should be definitely limited to the suppression of books which are sold as pornography to people who seek out and enjoy pornography.

The others should be left alone.

Any man or woman of average intelligence and culture knows the difference between the two kinds of book and has no difficulty in distinguishing one from the other. 

No can any reasonable person doubt, after watching the law as it stands at work, that it causes more harm than it prevents.

The average citizen is nowadays certainly a reader and quite frequently a writer.

In both capacities he is injured, annoyed, and possibly corrupted, by the censorship as exercised at present.

Nothing can be more insulting to his intelligence and exciting to his curiosity than to be told there is a book that he must not read because in the opinion of somebody else it would corrupt him to do so.

As was amply proved last autumn [Woolf is referring to the suppression of Radclyffe Hall’s novel, The Well of Loneliness, in 1928.], prohibition often serves only to stimulate the appetite.

Discussion is roused where there would have been indifference; knowledge is sought where there would have been ignorance.

The vice in question becomes a topic of conversation, and young people are made to think it attractive because it is fashionable and forbidden. 

Even more serious is the effect upon the writer.

The police magistrate's opinion is so incalculable – he lets pass so much that seems noxious and pounces upon so much that seems innocent – that even the writer whose record is hitherto unblemished is uncertain what may or may not be judged obscene, and hesitates in fear and suspicion.

What he is about to write may seem to him perfectly innocent – it may be essential to his book; yet, he has to ask himself, what will the police magistrate say?

And not only what will the police magistrate say, but what will the printer say and what will the publishers say?

For both printer and publisher will be trying, uneasily and anxiously, to anticipate the verdict of the police magistrate and will naturally bring pressure to bear upon the writer to put them beyond the reach of the law.

He will be asked to weaken, to soften, to omit.

Such hesitation and suspense are fatal to freedom of mind, and freedom of mind is essential to good literature.

Moreover, if modern books become so insipid, so blameless, so full of blank spaces and evasions that we cannot read them, we shall be driven to read the classics, where obscenity abounds. 

For these reasons I think it desirable that the law should distinguish clearly between books that are written or sold for pornographic purposes and books whose obscenity is an incidental part of them – between Aristotle’s works as they are sold in the rubber goods shops, that is to say, and Aristotle's works as they are sold in the shops of Messrs Hatchard and Bumpus. [Respectable bookshops in central London].

Source

Virginia Woolf: On Words

[catdadeddie]

Ok but that gif set of Oliver’s tweets made me realize that he’s a hilarious human being lol. Damn I wish he were still on twitter he’d probably have some Things to say about the past couple of seasons

I'm glad he's off it tbh. He's bad at holding up boundaries on there and people abuse the access.

[whetstonefires]

You know what I realize that people underestimate with Pride & Prejudice is the strategic importance of Jane.

Because like, I recently saw Charlotte and Elizabeth contrasted as the former being pragmatic and the latter holding out for a love match, because she's younger and prettier and thinks she can afford it, and that is very much not what's happening.

The Charlotte take is correct, but the Elizabeth is all wrong. Lizzie doesn't insist on a love match. That's serendipitous and rather unexpected. She wants, exactly as Mr. Bennet says, someone she can respect. Contempt won't do. Mr. Bennet puts it in weirdly sexist terms like he's trying to avoid acknowledging what he did to himself by marrying a self-absorbed idiot, but it's still true. That's what Elizabeth is shooting for: a marriage that won't make her unhappy.

She's grown up watching how miserable her parents make one another; she's not willing to sign up for a lifetime of being bitter and lonely in her own home.

I think she is very aware, in refusing Mr. Collins, that it's reasonably unlikely that anyone she actually respects is going to want her, with her few accomplishments and her lack of property. That she is turning down security and the chance keep the house she grew up in, and all she gets in return may be spinsterhood.

But, crucially, she has absolute faith in Jane.

The bit about teaching Jane's daughters to embroider badly? That's a joke, but it's also a serious potential life plan. Jane is the best creature in the world, and a beauty; there's no chance at all she won't get married to someone worthwhile.

(Bingley mucks this up by breaking Jane's heart, but her prospects remain reasonable if their mother would lay off!)

And if Elizabeth can't replicate that feat, then there's also no doubt in her mind that Jane will let her live in her house as a dependent as long as she likes, and never let it be made shameful or awful to be that impoverished spinster aunt. It will be okay never to be married at all, because she has her sister, whom she trusts absolutely to succeed and to protect her.

And if something eventually happens to Jane's family and they can't keep her anymore, she can throw herself upon the mercy of the Gardeners, who have money and like her very much, and are likewise good people. She has a support network--not a perfect or impregnable one, but it exists. It gives her realistic options.

Spinsterhood was a very dangerous choice; there are reasons you would go to considerable lengths not to risk it.

But Elizabeth has Jane, and her pride, and an understanding of what marrying someone who will make you miserable costs.

That's part of the thesis of the book, I would say! Recurring Austen thought. How important it is not to marry someone who will make you, specifically, unhappy.

She would rather be a dependent of people she likes and trusts than of someone she doesn't, even if the latter is formally considered more secure; she would rather live in a happy, reasonable household as an extra than be the mistress of her own home, but that home is full of Mr. Collins and her mother.

This is a calculation she's making consciously! She's not counting on a better marriage coming along. She just feels the most likely bad outcome from refusing Mr. Collins is still much better than the certain outcome of accepting him. Which is being stuck with Mr. Collins forever.

Elizabeth is also being pragmatic. Austen also endorses her choice, for the person she is and the concerns she has. She's just picking different trade-offs than Charlotte.

Elizabeth's flaw is not in her own priorities; she doesn't make a reckless choice and get lucky. But in being unable to accept that Charlotte's are different, and it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with Charlotte.

Because realistically, when your marriage is your whole family and career forever, and you only get to pick the ones that offer themselves to you, when you are legally bound to the status of dependent, you're always going to be making some trade-offs.

😂 Even the unrealistically ideal dream scenario of wealthy handsome clever ethical Mr. Darcy still asks you to undergo personal growth, accommodate someone else's communication style, and eat a little crow.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Flower Empowered.

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[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.