#don't get me wrong i don't hate the design but it feels like something is missing

[simminglytimeladies]

Father Yog Sothoth

I thought that Yog Sothoth aka Francis Mosses' nightmare mode counterpart is a vampire priest because of his shirt. Here is the origin of Father Yog Sothoth. Enjoy :P

[scoliosisgoblin]

Which version of Rick is your fav?

it's so hard for me to choose tbh. HOWEVER, I'd say Evil Rick

then I'd say it's C-137 and Memory Rick

I love how pathetic™ Evil Rick really is tbh. love that he's being controlled by his Morty. can you guess who my favorite Morty is?

[buppypuppy]

.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

OMG youre right 😭😭😭 idk if the fandom would be able to handle a listener that is kinda lazy, I feel like theyd get called selfish or some shit 💀💀 Begging Erik for a “comforting you into doing the damn thing you have to do”

I seen so many people relating to all the listeners that overwork (so all of them 😐) like damn. You got the energy for that? wild. Makes me feel a little bad but aight okay that’s fine.

god that would be AMAZING as an audio...... catch me playing that on loop to get me through my day 😫😫 if i had the energy to work like those listeners i would be literally unstoppable!!

i know that the whole point of this kind of self-insert bf audio stuff is to put yourself in the listener's shoes, feeling like the characters are speaking directly to you, and that people don't generally enjoy feeling like they're being criticised - but damn i do wish we could have a little more collective tolerance for listeners who aren't necessarily wonderful perfect people whose only downside is that they're too good at what they do 🕺🕺

[akari-hope]

.

[waokevale]

Introducing Follower gang!

There. Finally did all the Bishops follower designs!

The 7 deadly sins

And some other follower gang, done with lineart this time because the other 2 pieces made me lose my soul for how long they took.

(Also a small HC if I may: Dr. Sozonius is trapped inside the mushroom on Sozos head, while the actual mushroom is controlling his body)

+ some more doodles

Info about the 7 Sins and more doodles below:

Jeg represents Greed - he was one of the first of Lamb's followers. (At first, it was very difficult for Lambert to indoctrinate people, due to their inexperience, this guy was like the 5th or so) Jeg has...a very specific personality to say the least, yet the Lamb can't help but be fond of him. They eventually nominate him the Tax enforcer role and...That might've been the worst decision of their life. But they did not take the role away. Jeg acts smug 24/7 and relishes in his new power, but deep down, dudes pretty insecure, ( but don't tell anyone!) He used to have a huge crush on the lamb, but then Narinder and eventually the other bishops came, and since their leader was for some reason head over heels for the ex god of death, Jeg grew bitter and often got into fights with Nari, as well as charging him and his other siblings more than the average follower. Though he's mostly mellowed out since then.

Brash represents Gluttony They despise Helob, since they used to fight for "food" a lot, and eventually Brash got really injured and was found by the Lamb. She tried to eat them, but was quickly disarmed. Despite this, they decided to spare him and bring his sorry ass back to the cult to indoctrinate. They were very cunning and didn't trust the lamb either, but eventually they cooled off and accepted the new life. She still eats people tho, just not from the cult, otherwise jail or *worse*

Yara represents Pride She is one of the core followers. She's very strict and somewhat self-centered, she likes things done her way, or if not her way, the lambs way. Period. No one else can boss her around or even give a helpful advice. She's actually a pretty stand up deer, and despite being incredibly stubborn still makes a good friend. She gets along with most people though Brash annoys her, since he keeps snatching body parts off corpses. She has always been extremely devoted to the lamb and will be annoyed if any follower dissents and tries to preach against them. She wasn't surprised in the slightest when they eventually took down all the bishops.

Thorn represents Envy He had a pretty terrible life before the cult. When he was brought in, she was bitter about her newfound situation. He wasn't very trusting of the lamb and thought they expected something out of her (which technically they did, but it's just work). He envies the fools who are so oblivious and just do everything as they're told and let their lives be guided by some amateur god. Similar to the other two, he puts on a mask, He often acts overly saccharine to hide his true feelings, but doesn't have any bad intentions. (Most of the time) She does genuinely like some people, but others, he only pretends to like to appease the lamb or to blackmail them. He hates when the people he actually cares about are threatened.

Jermo represents Wrath Jermo absolutely does not trust anyone. Similar to Thorn, and most other followers tbh, their life was absolutely horrible prior to the cult. They trusted some people, they got betrayed, and almost died several times because of it. It was extremely difficult for the lamb to make them stop dissenting. They legit had to give them the loyalty necklace in order for them to finally stop dissenting. Jermo keeps getting into fights with other followers, because they feel as though everyone is always against them or is constantly judging them. (They're technically not wrong) They've died 5 times, because they keep getting into fights with other followers. Lamb strongly considered keeping them dead, but decided to challenge themself with them (also they're too cuddly to just be killed off) Despite their many, *many* flaws, Thorn has a huge crush on them, since he's one of the people who managed to see their soft side. Jermo, deep, deep, deep down actually cares a lot, but they've been hurt too much by everyone, so they retaliate for the same stuff to not repeat.

Herett represents Lust At some point, she passingly heard about the cult and since it seemed like a peaceful place from the rumors (and also had hot people in it) she eagerly joined in. She's usually in the kitchen area, if not hanging around the love tent or babysitting some kids. She crushes on almost everyone, but for some reason she hates Kallamar (legit in my actual game she rejected him so hard, despite having the lustful trait and not caring prior)

Mateo represents Sloth Is perhaps the 1st or 2nd of Lambs followers, so they're absolutely not letting go of him, dudes lived 4 long lives and is tired of it, he keeps switching jobs since with age he's been slacking off more. He's currently stuck as a janitor (he hates it) He's also one of the few people who managed to befriend Jermo, his mellow, don't care attitude is somewhat comforting to them. Aside that, he gets along with almost everyone, as best as he can at least.

Not much else to say about the gang in the third pic but Riley and Dannie are platonic bffs and were forced to babysit kids when the lamb was crusading. The lamb was a little incompetent here to give carnivores children to take care of, but thankfully they actually managed to be good with them and got used to being on nanny duty.

The capybara (Beige) is a retired teacher and adopted a little owlet to take care of (Chip)

While Femur is our below yellow cat, and that's my HC name for him. He's a gatherer here.

[3liza]

I feel very defensive about the "goth is bougie" shit because it is historically incorrect, yes, but also and more personally, because it just erases the generations of goth kids who grew up in trailer parks and project housing or just straight up homeless, helping each other out.

it's specifically such a supportive subculture for poor and neglected kids and I really fucking hate that this has been revised and erased. juggalos and goths are very culturally close and many subcultural people are both, and juggalos have the same (and, I would argue, even better defined) culture of collective support. the Skids in Letterkenny are not made up for the show, that's just a real type of rural subcultural person. this has also been forgotten in the interim but in the 90s and 00s we didn't even really refer to OURSELVES as "goths" very much except in a joking way. goths had regional endonyms (like "skids" or "trenchies") even if they could all go to a convention or a club in a city and in that context be all called "goths" together, once they went back home they would go back to being whatever the locals called them or whatever they called themselves. this is a whole linguistics and sociology subtopic that's out of scope for a Tumblr post but is sort of related.

my point is that people who wore actual rags, and sharpie instead of nail polish, and wet n wild eyeliner instead of black lipstick, and dyed their hair with markers or food coloring or kool-aid, were and are the core of the goth scene. the majority of the pictures the mallgoth blogs are posting are from catalogs, fashion shows, costume events, yearly balls and fetes like Wave Gothik Treffen, and other places where people save up literally all year, or many years in a row, to put together ONE outfit. and there's nothing wrong with that, personally I'm proud and pleased that our hard work is being recognized and preserved. but just like formal studio photographs from the Victorian era, it is not representative of the daily or even weekly (for clubs) reality of people in the scene, some of whom were completely out of goth clothing during the day or week just to fit in at work or sometimes just to get along without being bothered at home by family members who thought the Cure was Satanic.

the people who RUN the scenes, the promoters and DJs and gogo dancers and independent designers and people who run the mailing lists and websites, the people who organize the room parties at conventions, and yes even most of the original Burning Man camps like Thunderdome, they mostly live in poverty. especially if they're young. when people organize club nights and shows, they're lucky if they break even. I wasn't aware of any of this until I started working at DNA Lounge in San Francisco, which hosts one of the oldest goth nights in the country, Death Guild. I got to know the owner of DNA well enough to find out about the financial reality of the entire scene, even the people who own the means of production and the actual property in this case, and it's not lucrative. I mean, it sometimes is, if you're running a bar for normal people and have investment captain etc, but the majority of legit subculture economics is just barely breaking even. every single event is 90% volunteer labor.

the issue of labor is maybe the confusing thing for the zoomers who are confused. goth outfits take actual physical work. maybe the Aspirational Spectacle of Labor that makes up most of TikTok has made it appear unreal to the audience rather than something you can just sit down and do?

it takes forty seconds to make the fishnet tights into a shirt. you don't need instructions, you really can just look at it and figure it out. then you think, hm, if I can make fishnets into a shirt I wonder what other things I can turn into something else. your brain will amaze you. my mom would save her tights from her formal work outfits for me when they got holes or whatever and I would just go crazy with scissors and safety pins. lots of young designers are getting attention for this layered, tights-n-pins look at the moment and it really is a fantastic aesthetic but I wonder if people think there's something special about the people who make these clothes? there isn't. you can just do it at home while you watch trashy youtubes.

one time, around 2008 or so, @gothiccharmschool and I were at the photoshoot for tabletop RPG Unhallowed Metropolis. we were there with a bunch of local goths to all make the pictures for this book together. we had all brought tons of our costumes from home to cobble together outfits for the book illustrations, and there was a moment when I just handed Jilli a pile of black skirts and some pins and said hey Jilli, could you please make me up a bustle skirt for this model real quick while I shoot these other models? and of course she did, and they were beautiful, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and because that's all a bustle is: it's a way of bunching up a skirt with another skirt. you can do it at home. you don't need instructions or to hire a seamstress or watch a video. you can just look at something and say hm does it look like a bustle? let's drape it and play with it and pin whatever works. and then you wear it for the photoshoot, or to the club!!! and then next week you pin it a different way and it's a cape instead and you wear it again!!!!!!!

[ilycosy]

why is the thought of luke stealing your underwear and keeping them in his cargo pants so hot to me??? i……

it's so hot bc it's totally real n possible ,,, he wld definitely steal anything of yours that he can grab w/o anyone noticing !!

lukes the type of guy that def ends up getting caught eventually tho .. maybe on purpose

luke castellan has always been the golden boy of camp— never mean nor out of place, just the right amount of confident and talkative. perfect in every sense, with his pretty face and natural hermes boy charm.

which is why he finds it so hot, the actual scandal of it all fueled his fucked up sense of self even more. he knows it's weird to do, but he chalks it up to his father as another thing he can hate him for. besides, who expects a hermes child not to steal?

at first it starts off simple, just little things of yours that you won't miss. pencils and random things you fiddled with for a week before forgetting about it, then it turned into shirts. the shirts served a double purpose really, slipping them over his pillow so he can cling to and pretend like you're together— and then the more obvious answer.

he honestly hadn't thought about stealing your panties until he saw the opportunity— well, maybe he did, but he didn't actually expect himself to do it. until he did. it was like he was on autopilot, grabbing something from your cabin for another person when he saw your bunk. the small laundry basket caught his eye, he knew that he had to have it.

he barely looked at them before they were in his hands, he only paused for a moment to feel the intricate lace before stuffing them in his pockets. he puts them in the pocket closet to him for easy reach, the fabric lump isn't even visible with how the pants are designed and he's never been more thankful for cargo pants until now.

throughout the day he can't help but feel them to make sure they're real every chance he gets, hands in his pockets idly while he's talking to people— even you. pretending like he doesn't know everything about what you're saying, he smiles and nods, occasionally rubbing the fabric and fighting back the blood rushing down his body.

but back to what i was saying abt him getting caught (on purpose)

luke has always been sneaky, you've known this ever since you started dating him. he's always planning and learning certain things about you that makes you wonder if he's stalking you (he is but shh pretend u don't know), but you just brush it off as him being a good bf and a hermes child.

which is why you almost second guess your eyes when you spot a pair of panties tucked under lukes pillow— at first you thought the worst, but when you got closer you felt your stomach drop and churn when you saw it was an old pair of yours. half in disgust, but also there was a deep coil of desire in you.

you don't mention it for a while, at first he just thinks that you didn't see it the first time— so he keeps leaving them under his pillow still.

he couldn't be so wrong. when he finally has a moment away from the prying eyes of young campers and the annoyance of the other counselors, he takes you to the cabin. pushing you down against the bed completely forgetting that he planted them under the pillow.

he's leaving wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck onto your chest when you reach up to grab them, hooking your finger around the thin waistband— you hold them up smugly like a trophy. "you still haven't hid them?"

[paynomind-iamnotreal]

You are not a real person.

You wear a face that is not your own. You were designed to die.

You wear a face that gets you recognized around the grounds of a school you are not enrolled at (you aren't enrolled at any school.) You live in the same house as the person you were supposed to be. She has the right voice, stands the right way, wears her clothes correctly. When you look like her, you feel wrong. You see all the parts of yourself that are wrong, the makeup you wear, your style, your mannerisms. You can only see all the parts of yourself that fall short of her, but, any closer, wouldn't feel like you.

You are at a party. You don't know anyone her besides her friends (they are the only people you have ever known, but they never know what to make of you.) They helped you enroll in your own school, one that won't know you, one that won't know her. The other day you were desperate, uncertain and panicked. You took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. She never had to worry about that. She never has to worry about disappearing. The steps were confusing, you could've done it wrong. There is a rumble in the ground and you all leap to action, you're loading cannons, healing people, sharing the blessing of her deity (you never really bothered to ask her about all that.)

You are needed on the roof. You can feel it. The storm is thick and choking, the spray of clouds forces your eyes partly closed. You take stumbling steps towards her. She is on her knees. You've seen her pray before, but something about this is different. You can't tell if its tears or mist pooling on her face. You can't tell if its the pains of combat or the strain of heartbreak contorting her expression. The prayer itself feels wrong too, less holy and more personal. You follow her gaze.

The words leave your lips before you realize, an automatic reaction to the mammoth mess of wind and cloud and hate: "Blimey." There is a face in the storm. Monumental, twisting, grotesque, but a face nonetheless. You are good at recognizing faces. She looks a bit... No. It is grotesque. Monstrous. The face you see in nightmares. Lightning cracks and whips around you. You feel something deep and heavy click in your chest as lighting cracks inside the storm. It looks exactly like her. It looks exactly like you.

And She is beautiful.

It was awe that clicked in your chest. Fear and hope. Awful and awesome. Sublime. Recognition of a power that is beyond yourself.

You don't know what will happen to you if you survive tonight. You don't know how long you live. You don't know where you go when you die.

But you need to reach Her. You place a hand on her shoulder and take a step towards the roiling clouds, towards It. You can reach her, that is all that is certain.

"I don't know if you heard me,"

The face contorts with rage and fear. It knows not what it is. It is everything that is wrong with Her. It will destroy you, when you return Her. That's O.K.

"But I said—"

You were designed to die.

Lightning envelops you as uncertainty replaces fear. It burns your hands, clasped in prayer, it singes your lips, forming the words of your impromptu, awestruck prayer. It's lightning is not what destroys you though. You feel the prayer work as a peace in all the chaos of your life becomes clear, waves of cool night and weighty cosmic power flow through you, calling you home.

You die a person.

Goodbye K2.

[meo-eiru]

*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

[7s3ven]

ATHENA'S GIRL. luke (pjo) - pt. 1

trailer > part 1 > part 2 > part 3

( masterlist )

IN WHICH... Luke's second quest isn't exactly a heroic one but he doesn't have the power to reject it. Who knew it would lead him to a prestigious high school where his hardest mission would be trying to befriend a snappy demigod.

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you. I see you changing from how I've designed you. Have you forgotten your purpose?"

Warnings : modern au but camp still exists, Luke doesn’t betray

A/N : I signed up with a blogging side job and they asked if I had any previous blog experience. I said no because I wasn’t about to admit that I run a one shot blog acc on Tumblr 😭

—

“What is wrong with you?!"

Heads turned to look at the H/C-haired girl who had shouted in a voice too loud to be inside a library. She was standing up, having shoved her chair back moments before. She clenched her hands into fists.

"Do you find joy in torturing me with your obnoxious presence? Is that it?!" She exclaimed at the brunette standing in front of her. She angrily grabbed her pile of books, messily shoving them into her bag. "Honestly!" She let out another groan as she loudly stormed past the doors.

"Well, that went smoothly, Luke." Chris, who had been watching the scene behind an upside down book, said.

The brunette boy with curled hair sighed, glaring at his friend, Chris. "I'm only trying to protect her. I don't know why she's so bitchy." Luke scowled. "I don't get why our quest was to protect some girl."

"Chiron said she doesn't have a satyr guide." Chris retorted, "That's why we're here."

Luke scoffed. "I can't even peacefully talk to her, let alone peacefully talk to her. She'll never come with us to camp." He swiftly threw his hands up in surrender.

"It's either that or the monsters. And if she doesn’t come with us, we fail.”

Luke stiffened at the mention of failing a quest. He knew all too well what that felt like. The jagged scar gruesomely painted across his face was proof of that.

“Just… befriend her.” Chris said as Luke stood up, ready to walk out of the library.

“Easier said than done. She hates me, Chris. And she hates you for being friends with me. So if neither of us can befriend her, how are you going to tell her about camp? It’s not like her dad will. He abandoned her for gods sake!”

Y/N, to put it simply, was an orphan. Her dad left her on the steps of a random house after her mother, whichever god she was, disappeared.

“Okay. Uh, what do we have in common with her then? And why does she hate you? I never understood that.” Chris questioned, desperate to think of ways to connect with Y/N before the monsters sensed her.

“I… made her get an F on her science project because I accidentally ruined it.” Luke sheepishly smiled.

“… You deserve all the insults from her then. But to answer my own question, we’re all demigods. That’s the most we have in common. I told you we should’ve taken Annabeth.” Chris uttered, gesturing to their surroundings.

“She’s a young kid." Luke retorted, "This is a high school. People will know something is wrong.”

“Or they’ll think she’s a child genius which, for the record, she is.”

Luke wasn’t sure how to feel about this quest. His first one had ended in absolute disaster so he was lucky to even be chosen for a second. But was a fire-breathing dragon worse than a high school girl who, if she needed to or even just felt like it, would stab you? Luke would take the dragon again because at least it didn’t spew out every insult known to man.

“I gotta get to this after school meeting.” Chris piped up, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Some kids forced me to join. Find her and talk to her. Who knows, maybe you’ll get along. Eventually.”

Luke rolled his eyes as his friend jogged off to who knows where. Finding Y/N wouldn’t be hard. As creepy as it sounded, he had been watching Y/N for moments just like this.

He quietly whistled under his breath as he walked to the cafe across the road, immediately spotting Y/N in her usual seat beside the large window. She was, to no one’s surprise, reading a book.

Luke pushed open the door, the bell attached to it chiming softly. He made an instant beeline for Y/N. “Why so many books?” He blurted out, raising an eyebrow at the amount of novels strewn over the table.

Y/N lifted her head, frowning at the sight of him. “These are my cafe books.” She said, looking down at her book once more. Luke slid into the seat across from her.

“You need four cafe books? Why four?”

“Well, I need a novel and a biography book.”

“You’re reading Fyodor Dostoevsky as a novel? That’s your definition of light reading?” Luke picked up the book, almost laughing. “And some of it is in Russian. You know Russian?”

“Somewhat. I’m learning it so I can read Dostoevsky in the original.”

“And the Edgar Allen Poe?”

“Short stories. And Norman Mailer is a great essay writer so I wanted to check him out too.”

Luke huffed, “Jeez, writer. Reading Dostoevsky, learning Russian, reading all of these books. You’re crazy.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes as she stared at him with her heavy gaze. “Why do you call me that? Writer? Are you making fun of me?”

“Why would I need to do that? I call you writer because you want to be a journalist, right?” Luke leaned back in his seat, “I’ve read some of your essays, by the way. Don’t get mad at me. They were great. You really seemed to like the Russian revolution.”

“I’m more interested in the royal family, actually. Not so much in the Bolsheviks and all that politic stuff.” Y/N placed the book she was reading down, a truce sign in Luke’s eyes.

“Oh, she’s smart, pretty, and interested in the slaughter of a royal family. Are you perhaps training to become a serial killer? I hope I’m not your next target.” Luke teasingly grinned as a mischievous glint shone in his eyes.

“Castellan, I have a question.” Y/N sat up straighter, “How is it that you got into the school? Don’t get me wrong, you’re street smart but you aren’t… academically smart. Are your parents filthy rich?”

“My dad’s a deadbeat.”

“Did you cheat then? I won’t tell anyone. I’m only curious.”

“You wound me, writer. No, I didn’t cheat. Is it so hard to believe I passed the entrance exam?”

“Yes.” Y/N said without hesitation.

Luke stared at her with his lips pressed into a thin line. “Ouch. Now you’ve added salt to the wound.”

Luke had already acknowledged that he wasn’t gifted in the academic department. But there was more to life than writing articles and scribbling down overly complicated math equations.

“Wait a minute,” Luke sat up. How was it that Y/N could draft a perfectly constructed essay when she had dyslexia? “Don’t you have a reading problem? Dyslexia? Are you sure you didn’t cheat?” He meant the last bit as a joke but he instantly knew he made a mistake when Y/N’s eyes darkened.

“I have no need to.” She jeered, grabbing her cafe books. And just like that, their little moment of peace was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Never accuse me of cheating again. You got that, Castellan?” She harshly poked his shoulder as she walked past him.

“Hey, you forgot your Dostoevsky- and she’s not even listening to me. Great. Okay.” Luke sighed as he grabbed the book, observing it. It seemed well-loved because the novel was almost falling apart and its delicate pages were stained brown with coffee and tea.

Luke cracked open the book, raising his eyebrows at the sight of highlighted words, pen marks, and sticky notes inside. “She likes annotating.” He muttered to himself, running his hands over the pages.

The writing stopped near the end of the book and Luke realized it was because she had yet to finish it. An idea burst into his head and he quickly exited the cafe, clutching the book close to his chest. His usual routine would be to wait for Chris outside but he strolled back into the library, eyes landing in a group of giggling girls.

“Hey, ladies.” Luke boyishly smirked at them, which almost caused them to melt. “Do you have any sticky notes and pens I could borrow?”

That’s how he ended up with a pile of sticky notes and a multitude of pens at his disposal. Luke couldn’t read that well due to his godly side but he sure tried. Luke had heard about how a book girl’s love language was someone else annotating a book for her. In this case, this was Luke waving the white flag for good.

“Yo, Luke, you ready to head off?” Chris returned an hour later, just as Luke was finished scribbling on sticky notes and placing them carefully on the crumbled pages. Chris arched an eyebrow. “You can’t read.” He stated.

Luke rolled his eyes. “I know but this is me trying to befriend her. Trust me, it’ll work.” The brunette led his friend to Y/N’s locker, easily picking it open with a bobby pin he found on the floor. “Say hello to friendly Y/N.” Luke grinned as he placed the novel on the top shelf and closed the door.

“If this works, I’ll give you my dessert for a week.” Chris piped up

Luke chuckled, putting all his faith into his plan. “It’ll work. And deal.”

•

Chris and Luke watched Y/N like hawks as she opened her locker, letting out a small yawn as she did so. She spotted the book immediately. As she flipped through the pages, something unexpected happened that left Chris gaping.

She smiled. Her pink-tinted lips curved into a bubbly smile as she read something and she even let out a quiet laugh. As she turned her head, her gaze locked with Luke’s. She sent him a nod of acknowledgment before leaving to get to class.

“Looks like I’ll be having extra dessert.” Luke cockily uttered, teasing his friend.

“I can’t believe it actually worked.” Chris clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Better luck next time, buddy.” Luke tilted his head back as he laughed. “Get to class. We can’t blow our cover.”

Luke’s first class was with Y/N. Actually, all of his classes were. And that was on purpose. He had to keep a close eye on her in case anything happened. Nothing ever did, which was unusual. Monsters sensed demigods as soon as they turned twelve but Y/N was Luke’s age and still hadn’t run into one. Luke found it strange.

He sat down in his chosen seat and turned his head, surprised to see Y/N sitting beside him. “Impotence means the inability to do something effectively.” She spoke, looking at him. Luke was at a loss for words as his lips parted.

“What?” He stupidly questioned.

“‘The fear of appearance is the first symptom of impotence’. You put a question mark next to impotence.”

“Oh.” Luke could recall doing that. “I guess I did.”

“You don’t write very well.” Y/N said. “At some point, you started writing in Greek. You know Greek?”

“To an extent.”

Y/N quietly hummed. “The ability to go from English to Greek is somewhat impressive. Your Greek is better.”

Luke almost smiled at the backhanded compliment. “You know, writer, I always took you as a Jane Austin girl. Pride and Prejudice and what not. How come you’re reading Crime and Punishment instead?”

Y/N shrugged. “I want to know more about Russian culture.” She simply said, opening her science textbook. Luke stared at her.

“You want to know more about Russia? I’ll show you. Come on.” Luke tugged Y/N out of her seat much to her surprise. She gasped.

“But class.” She said, but Luke ignored her.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll love it.” Luke reassured her as he pulled her out of the room.

“I’m not sure I will.” Y/N groaned, trying to dig her heels into the ground to slow Luke down. “We really should go back to class.” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in worry while Luke clicked his tongue.

“No. We don’t.”

Before Y/N knew it, she was outside the school building and walking down the road behind Luke. “Where are we going?” She asked, receiving no reply.

“Wait here.” Luke said, pausing in front of a large wired fence.

“Are you sure you aren’t the serial killer here?” Y/N muttered, almost scoffing. Luke jumped, easily grabbing onto the fence and climbing up. “You look like a monkey!” Y/N exclaimed. Luke quietly chuckled, reaching the top.

“You’re funny, writer- Woah!”

Y/N gaped as Luke tumbled down, harshly hitting the ground. “Are you okay?” She asked, her eyes wide. Luke groaned as he stood up, clutching his shoulder.

“I’m fine. I just have to rearrange my shoulder real quick.” He said, grunting. Y/N watched in horror as Luke grabbed his own shoulder, readjusting it with a terrifying crack.

“That’s not normal.” Y/N said, cringing. “Your shoulder should not be doing that… oh, my gosh! You need to see a doctor soon. That crack was disgusting!” But Luke ignored her.

“You can climb, right?” Luke questioned.

“I am not climbing and falling like you.” Y/N sneered. She looked around, spotting a door. “I’m glad I’m not dumb like you.” She pushed the door open, mockingly staring at Luke. “Voila. No need to look like a monkey.”

“And there our truce goes, writer. I’m going to beat you up now.”

Y/N lightly laughed, rolling her eyes. “You can’t hit a lady.” She warned.

“Oh, you’re right. Damn me for being a gentleman. If only I was a girl. I could slam you.” Luke teasingly slung an arm around her shoulder as he led Y/N through the woods. “Chris and I found this place by accident. I thought you’d like it, especially after seeing your obsession with books. That’s not normal, by the way. It’s creepy. You treat books like your friends.”

“For your information, I have friends.” Y/N snapped.

“You have one friend. And she’s not even at the school.”

“So? Who cares. Besides, I talk to Sehee.”

“Sehee Kim hates you.”

“Yeah. But she’s toned down. We’re acquainted now.”

“Whatever you say, writer. Close your eyes.” Luke slapped a hand over her face, concealing her gaze. “Don’t peek. It’s a surprise.”

“If you plan on killing me, don’t eat me. I’m not into cannibalism.”

“You wrote an essay on all the media’s that portrayed cannibalism. The hills have eyes, that plane crash with the sports team. What else am I forgetting?”

“The Bean clan. Technically, that wasn’t a show or movie but the hills have eyes were inspired by it. At least, I like to think so.” Y/N paused, “Wait, you read the essay?”

“You’re a model student, writer. Of course I read your work. It took me a few days.” Luke grinned, though Y/N couldn’t see it. “Alright. You ready?” Luke rested his chin on Y/N’s shoulder as he lowered his hands, emitted a small gasp from Y/N.

“This place… what the…” She was speechless. In front of her was a beautiful, old library. Vibes of ivy wrapped around the shelves yet the books still looked functional. Albeit, a little old but they didn’t look like they’d turn to dust if she touched them.

“It’s an old library. Abandoned but still pretty. All of the books here are in Russian. You like it?”

“I love it… Castellan.” She gently smiled.

“I come here when I need time to think.” Luke sighed to himself, gesturing to a small corner where a blanket and a few pillows lay. “I can’t read in general but it’s comforting.”

“How’d you know I have dyslexia?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

Luke shrugged. “I had a feeling.”

“To answer the question from yesterday, yes. I do have dyslexia. But I envied children who could read so I got help. More like I begged the orphanage to get me help. I wanted to read and write so I did.”

Y/N ran a hand over the books, letting her fingers trace over the delicate golden details. Luke watched as she walked past the sturdy wooden shelves, a gleeful skip in her step.

“What’s your favourite book?” Luke asked as Y/N opened an aged book, staring at the words carefully printed in black ink.

“Oh. I actually have it with me.” Y/N began, digging around in her bag to pull out a small paperback. She showed it to Luke. “I want to die but I want to eat tteobokki.” She uttered. Luke stared at it, eyebrows lifted.

“You read… self-help books?”

“Well, it’s more like a biography or a memoir. It doubles as a self-help book. And yes. Is that a problem? It's an opportunity to learn how these type of books are written."

Luke shook his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I mean, why do you need help? You seem to have your life figured out. Studying, Harvard, journalism."

Y/N softly cleared her throat as she stared at him. “Castellan, I firmly believe that everybody needs help. Even just a little bit. And my life is literally falling apart if I’m not in school. My orphanage is crumbling to the ground and I’m probably going to be kicked out soon. On top of that, I think I’m going crazy.” Realising she was ranting too much, Y/N took a breath and stopped talking.

“We’re all crazy in a way, writer.”

“No. I’m actually crazy… Castellan, I see things… things normal people shouldn’t see. Creatures… weird things… things I can’t describe.” Y/N pulled at the ends of her hair. Luke was quick to grab her hands, stopping her.

“I understand, writer. Trust me. You may think I don’t, but I do.”

“You hallucinate too?”

“It’s not hallucinations. It’s real. I know I probably sound crazy. You see strange animals, right? Like, monsters?”

Y/N turned her head, staring at Luke with wide eyes. Y/N silently nodded. “How… how did you know?”

“I need you to listen to me, writer. And don’t call me insane or judge me or any other mean thing you like to do.” When Y/N still didn’t say anything, Luke continued. “How do I put this… You’re a demigod. I am too. Chris as well. Your mother is, uh, a goddess. You’re a half-blood. And eventually… monsters are going to chase after you.”

Y/N gawked at Luke for a few long minutes before she looked away. "You're crazy."

"I'm not crazy. I told you I'm not."

"Okay, not crazy. You're mad, out of your mind, deranged, demented. You're a lunatic, unstable, unbalanced. Non compos mentis!"

"Are you speaking in Latin right now?"

"We have to recite the school song on the spot. We get extra credits if we say it in Latin. You didn't know that?" Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're... not lying. Gods and goddesses actually exist... don't they?" Luke sighed, nodding his head.

"I'm sorry to put all of this on you now but we really have to go. It's unusual that the monsters haven't sensed you yet. We have to find Chris before"- Luke was cut off by a loud roar. Y/N gasped, clutching onto Luke.

"What was that?" She gasped.

Luke pulled Y/N up, holding her tight. "We have to go. Now. Come on." Y/N's hands shook as she tried to shove the old book back into its place. Luke grabbed it, cramming the book into her bag. "Just take it. Take the book!" Luke grabbed Y/N's wrist, pulling her out of the library.

"Whatever that thing was seemed close. We have to hurry." Luke and Y/N ran out of the forest and barged past the door to the metal fence. "Chris will meet us at the road. Come on!"

There was another roar and Y/N shrieked. A blast of flames engulfed the fence, burning away at it. "Oh, my gosh... what is that?! Is that a fucking dragon?!"

"So you can swear! I never expected that!" Luke exclaimed as he stood in front of Y/N, drawing a sword.

"You have a fucking sword too?! What the fuck!" Y/N screamed, "What is going on?!"

"Stop cussing! Y/N, I need you to listen to me. Run. Run as fast as you can and find Chris. Please." Luke pushed Y/N back.

"What? No! I am not leaving you with that... that beast! And I don’t really what to be alone too!” Y/N furrowed her brows but Luke was persistent.

“Go! Go!” He shouted. Y/N spun around, sprinting away. She heard Luke’s sword clash with the dragon’s hard scales and she looked over her shoulder.

“Find Chris!” Luke shouted again.

Y/N gasped as she burst through the vegetation, almost crashing into Chris. “Oh, my fucking god! Chris! Castellan- I mean Luke is fighting against a dragon! What do we do?!” Panic glazed over Chris’ eyes.

“Y/N, stay here. It’ll be fine. I’ll be back soon!” Chris ran off. Y/N shakily inhaled as she looked around. The road was barren and there wasn’t a car in sight.

“This is fine… totally, inexplicably fine.” Y/N muttered, thickly gulping. But her panic flared up again when she felt a presence behind her.

She shook as she turned around, her head slowly lifting to stare at the dragon. “… Oh, I’m fucked.” Y/N’s bag felt heavier than it did before. It slid off her arm, crashing to the ground. Y/N scrambled back as the dragon blew a mouthful of burning smoke through its sharp fangs.

“Nice boy… or girl. Or are you gender-neutral? It doesn’t matter.” Y/N nervously chuckled as she slowly kneeled down to search for something, anything, to defend herself. Instead of a sharp pen or maybe a heavy book, she pulled out a golden brass spear with electricity crackling through it.

“Oh… this works.”

The dragon growled as its beady eyes watched her trembling form. Y/N swung the spear at the dragon, managing to hit it with a lucky shot. The dragon roared, throwing its head back in pain. Y/N landed another blow and managed to dodge the beast’s claws.

“Man, am I glad I took those sports classes now!” Y/N shouted, ducking. She swung the blade of the spear ay the creature, slicing a scale off. Y/N yelped as blood oozed out. “Oh, that is revolting.” She wrinkled up her nose.

The dragon, seemingly very unhappy with Y/N’s wide use of vocabulary, grunted as it stalked towards Y/N with heavy steps. Y/N gulped. She gripped the spear tightly, trying to think of what to do. As the dragon neared, her survival instincts took over and before she knew it, she was hurling her weapon at the dragon’s chest. It groaned in pain as the tip impaled its flesh before disintegrating into a fury of golden specks.

Y/N panted as her spear clattered to the ground. “… I’m glad javelin was a requirement at school.” Luke and Chris arrived at the scene a moment too late, staring at the golden flecks in surprise.

“You… took down a dragon?” Chris asked in shock while Luke was silent as he subtly lifted a hand to touch the scar on his face.

“Yes. Now, can we get out of here before we get slaughtered like the family from the hills have eyes?! If I die, I can’t get into Harvard!” Y/N exclaimed, picking up her spear that had transformed back into the old book from the library.

“She’s right.” Finally, Luke spoke up. “We need to get moving. The stronger monsters have already sensed us. More will be coming.”

"Wait!" Y/N shouted, causing both of the boys to pause. "Oh, my gosh... What about Harvard?! I can't get into Harvard with all these monsters running after me!"

"You didn't tell her?" Chris asked, glancing at Luke.

Luke quickly shrugged in confusion. "I told her about camp! But I may have left out the part where she has to go if she doesn't want to be slaughtered..."

"What?! No, I'm not fit out for camp! I need to go to school and study so I can get into Harvard and study journalism so I can become like Christiane Amanpour!"

"We'll explain more at camp." Luke uttered, wrapping his hands around one of Y/N's arms while Chris did the same on the other side. The two boys dragged her away, ignoring how she kicked and screamed, mainly about Harvard and how her career was ruined now.

Eventually, she calmed now. The trio now calmly walked along the empty road with Y/N in the middle. “I mean, at least it can’t get worse than a dragon.” Y/N said in an effort to raise spirits.

Above, thunder rumbled as rain began to pour down. Y/N loudly clicked her tongue, “Never mind.” She grumbled. “But hey, can’t get worse”- Lightning crackled and hit a tree near Luke. He jumped as the leaves went up in flames, though they were quickly distinguished by the large droplets of rain. “Okay, but surely”- Luke cut Y/N off.

“Please… writer, stop talking. We’ll hide in that cave until the rain stops. It’s getting dark soon too. We officially leave tomorrow.” Luke uttered, pointing at a nearby hole in the rocks. Y/N jogged for cover while Luke and Chris took their time, not caring about the rain because they were already soaked to the bone.

“So, you call her writer? Cute.” Chris mockingly smirked as he knowingly winked.

“Yeah, so what? What do you call Clarisse? Oh, that’s right, you haven’t confessed yet. You have the right to judge me when you confess.” Luke walked away while Chris was left standing there, speechless.

“Touché.” Chris muttered under his breath.

•

Luke woke Y/N the moment the sun rose. She groaned as he shook her awake, sleepily rubbing her eyes. “What do you want?” She muttered, trying to kick him away.

“Time to get moving before any more dragons come.” Luke grinned as Y/N quickly sat up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, writer. Come on, we’ll get breakfast at the train station. It’s the fastest way to camp.”

It was a thirty minute walk to the nearest train station and in those thirty minutes, Luke would not stop talking. And Y/N thought her rambling was bad.

“Why do people like peanuts anyway? They taste so… nutty. I don’t like peanut butter. The look of it, the taste of it, the texture, the way it sticks to the roof of my mouth. Ugh! Gross.” Luke faked a small gag while Y/N slowly nodded.

“Do you usually talk this much?” She questioned, recalling the days where Luke hardly spoke up in class unless he was replying to a girl in love with him.

"No. Not unless I've got a pretty girl next to me who's too smart for her own good." Luke grinned while Y/N rolled her eyes at his pathetic flirting.

“Have you got money? Once we get to the station, I would suggest we buy tickets first. Food can wait. Besides, the train should have food too.” Y/N said, checking her watch. "When's the next train? We should try and catch the earliest one."

"Jeez, who made her in charge?" Luke whispered to Chris behind Y/N's back.

“What? You think you’d be in charge?”

“Well, this is my quest after all. Plus, I thought there’d be a voting. You know, a show of hands.”

Chris sent Luke a look. “Don’t be like Percy, man. She’s like our Annabeth. She’s obviously in charge. And I’m like, uh, Grover.”

“And let me guess,” Luke deadpanned, “I’m Percy.”

“Yeah. Always trying to change the system into a voting thing. Just let the pretty girl do the work and we won't get killed."

"I can hear you, by the way." Y/N butted in, staring at the two boys with an unimpressed look.

"That's the point." Luke replied.

"The train station is right over there. I'll buy us tickets." Y/N said, outstretching her hand.

"Huh? Why do you have to buy the tickets?"

"Because, genius, it's suspicious to see two guys with a girl. They’ll think you’re kidnapping me. Which, mind you, you technically are.” Y/N ran her hands through her messy hair to smoothen it down, “The faster we leave, the better.” She brushed the dirt off her skirt and adjusted her wrinkled blouse so she could fit in more with the crowd.

Luke begrudgingly handed over a part of the given money to Y/N. She smiled, which only fuelled his annoyance. “After we buy tickets, we can look for food if we have time.”

“Why can’t we split up?” Luke interrupted, earning an eye roll from Y/N. Chris silently watched as they bickered, not wanting to get involved. It was like they were in class again, always going back and forth until the teacher forced them to stop.

“Splitting up would be dangerous. We have to stay together. But when I buy the tickets, don’t follow me. Hang back.”

Luke had no choice but to agree with the plan.

“So,” Chris shuffled closer to Luke, “Still think we should have a voting system?”

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303 @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @luvvfromme @y0urm0m12

[somewhereincairparavel]

˚➳❥“Can I put makeup on you, Dada?➳❥

Jason Grace as a girl dad! Hcs list

Warning: aged up Jason Grace! (duh), just cuteness overload tbh

-He would so be a girl dad. I can see him having atleast 3 girls lol

- ugh he's the attentive and spending quality time dad- all he ever wanted from his own father was time. So no matter what, he's always paying his kid attention, it doesn't matter if it's the most insignificant thing ever, hes going to listen to his children's yapping

- he'd let his kids give him design ideas for his temple diorama project, and he'd actually use their ideas by changing it up a bit 🥹 he just wants his kids to feel included and important.

- a very patient dad. Wouldn't yell or raise his voice at his children no matter what. I feel like he himself hated being yelled at it when he was a child, and he'd hate to do it to other people, let alone his own children.

- but he's pretty strict when it comes to his children being good people and having strictly healthy morals. He doesn't care if his kids get bad grades or don't excel talent wise, just don't be a bad person and be nice to people.

- he ain't raising no ungrateful brat. Hes been happy his whole life recieving less than the bare minimum, so he knows ungratefulness when he sees it.

- definitely cried when his kids were in their "neglecting-their-parents-and-being-moody" teenager phase :( he'd think he had done something wrong and immediately have nagging thoughts that he turned out like his own dad 🥺

- his kids would be so hella polite, and I mean, elegant "please and thank you" royalty kind of polite.

- would so take his daughters on a piggyback ride and little flying trips 🥹

- he'd pretend to be an airplane while having them on his back and goes "jason grace airlines, ready for take off!" And all that cute shit ughh

- would tell his children so many dang stories, we know that this is technically canon with jason telling his grandkids stories in his vision- like he doesn't care how busy he is or if he had an argument with his kids that day, they are still getting spoiled with bedtime stories. Nobody's going to come between that.

- speaking of arguments, I feel like jason is super hard to anger, so if does get mad at his children then it's probably because they risked their lives, or got themselves hurt physically emotionally or mentally that really drives him over the edge.

- when it comes to disciplining his children, he does it sternly but gently at the same time. He doesn't overwhelm them with harshness, but gets his point across clearly

- kind of overbearing but in a sweet and endearing way I swear. Like his children would get a minor paper cut that even they don't care about but he'd freak out and hug tf out them while asking them if they're okay atleast 3 times.

- speaking of which. Hugs. Such a good fucking hugger. He gives his children bear hugs every day. - he's the "no you can't go to class before giving me a hug I don't care if you're late" type of dad

- He doesn't care if his children are like 45, like you're still my precious little girl, you always are and always will be. (He'd say this trust)

- is very verbal with his affection. Hes been brought up in a very intimidating and cold environment where people couldn't even hug properly without it being awkward, so he'll not be ashamed to be openly affectionate. Hes had enough coldness for 15 years

- overall just a big sweetheart of a dad that his children adore with all their heart and vice versa 🥹💙

[nu1lst4rs]

doodled human designs for nightmares gang!

click for better quality

ggrahhb. i love them. will draw individual refs soon. promise. cross has jumped between nightmares gang and star sanses, and therefore is considered a neutral outcode in our au. so ill draw him later.

horror fws the trans community

Star sanses, neutral aus (p1), neutral aus (p2), extras

some headcanons under cut 3_^

warning there is alot of text

> nightmare (they/it)

DESI NIGHTMARE!!!! (this is blatant self projection.)

short. but they always manipulate their height when they're outside of their gang because they hate being short.

chubby because its ass is not used to actual food, and they have a really slow metabolism when it isnt negativity. and now that horrors "forcing" it to eat, they gain weight. fast.

intersex. not sure why i think this but they don't really have a sex, so. erm.

^ adding onto that their fluid in their expression. sometimes masc, sometimes fem, sometimes andro.

has those stupid ass hair curlers and uses leftovers for their tentacles

MATCHING NECKLACES WITH MY OTP AT THE CURRENT MOMENT. usually errormare or bsp. sometimes fluffynight. killermare if nihira is fronting.

also sugar daddy nightmare. its either rich as fuck or have no money at all. (this is kindve a crack hc)

> Dust (he/they)

leaning korean and thai mix for him. because i need to see more mixed characters.

wears pjs whenever he can. gets the most fucking stupid pj pants too. like hello kitty. comfort > style.

always dusty. mostly because he doesn't shower and smells like ASS, but also because they gotta live up to their name somehow.

TRANS MASC. dont care if you say its wrong. EVERYONE IS TRANS. (excluding horror and blue. allies!)

aroace spec 100%. most sanses are, but him in particular. would rather die than do any of the sappy bs. but wouldd love to have a partner. or maybe 3. wink wink.

"2 shorter than killer but gaslights killer into thinking he's taller

doesn't wear papyrus' scarf, but keeps it in his sleeve.

> Horror (he/him)

wanna hc him as native american. but i haven't exactly thought much about what in particular.

tall and bulky. after a lonnggg famine, horror developed an ED. where they stress eat until he's physically ill, or feeling less stressed.

doesn't need the bandages on his face, bur keeps them there because he hates the scar

little big bottom teeth. its something he developed due to the food conditions in HT snowdin.

as much as it happens, horror HATES having blood on him, so he wears an apron underneath his clothes and does the laundry often.

PROSTHETIC LEG!!!! it got stuck in a bear trap when he was in his old au, and alphys didnt really know what else to do. its not the best thing, but its reliable. killer likes to put stickers on it.

has a cleaver named maxine, and an axe called rex.

ace because i dont really think. yeah. gross. ew. intimacy.

> killer (he/they/it)

arabic. its almost canon at this point.

has a selection of knifes in his thigh thing if his magic backfires on them. favourite is its butterfly knife.

is legally blind. his ass CANNOT see. refuses to admit this.

acespec because like look at me. he can barely feel. i just think he'd love the idea of being in a relationship, and desperately want one. but know he cant be in one.

scars galore holy shit. is always somehow simultaneously sloppy and precise with his knifework. him and nightmare have a small rivalry to see who can get the most.

needs to have textures on his clothes. something to ground themself. like "oh shit we're dissociating." rubs pants aggressively. works for us.

transb... transverse...

also DID but this is hinted at in canon

HUh. okay wow that was alot. cres shut up about utmv for 5 seconds (IMPOSSIBLE) (I DIED AFTER 1 SECOND). anyways THANK YOU!!! i will post and draw stars and neutrals tomorrow maybe. just after some sleep because it is 2am. bye everyone 3.<

[hoodedjelly]

Nicktoons unite main 4 in their respected styles ( minus jimmy neutron i'll explain more below)

i feel very mixed about these but it was still fun either way studying all of these cartoons respected styles. the final does make me happy, seeing all of them together ^__^ 💞

below i will explain my thought process working with each style so get ready for a wall of text:

first before anything you may be asking: why no jimmy neutron style!? it's because i tried and gave up! i was starting the rendering process for timmy and i hated it so i just didn't continue! no point of making myself miserable for something thats harmless fun style studies. but have these as a little treat:

Fairly Oddparents style: the easiest style to work on and research for, fop style is not that complex. i should also add i didn't draw each style in one sitting i drew each character together and then edited them all, so that might be the reason why some look better then others, i just got good. but i'm saying that because the character i started with was spongebob! specifically because i was tired of ppl thinking dp style and fop style are the same and how spongebob would look the same in both styles, just a flat square. which is wrong! fop style is very different! i would prob describe it as a flat paper style. has sharp and rounded thick lines. the main source of research i used for it was the designer for fop was Ernie Gilbert. he has designed a lot of iconic characters for the show and i highly would check out his work, this is his website

Danny phantom style: now this one was tricky, prob the hardest one to figure out and i honestly don't think i really DID figure it out. the possible reason is i am still trying to go through the show atm myself, but i'd doubt it. they all just look off to me, just a little. which no need for me to work myself in a circle trying to make it "perfect". im no professional character designer! especially not Stephen Silver.

Spongebob Squarepants style: this one was tricky but in the opposite way to dp style, where i didn't know what to reference! to start off the show is mainly nonhuman characters, so finding character refs were hard. the refs i did use were the mermaids and the superheros, so i used that for timmy. but in the middle of working on jimmys i was watching a video of someone ranking every single spongebob ep and TURNS OUT in the later seasons, i think season 13, there were human designs! (technically elfs but whatever).

and weirder thing is how they draw patchy but im not going to get into that. i am assuming that style is for characters that are supposed to be real life humans up on land in that universe (but why not just use real life humans? idk, maybe tom kenny is getting to old for the role). BUT ANYWAY, i used the elfs for a main source for jimmy and danny, they turned out a lot better then the timmy in my eyes. i wanted at least one of them to have the black eyes but they all have bright blue eyes and the show usually always colors blue eyes. i get ahead of myself cause there was a lot more factors i still had to figure out. like the line art. the show doesn't have a clear line style like dp or fop, its just relatively consistent medium lines. so i just went with more recent show stuff then older stuff since it's HD.

ok but thats basically it, i can prob go on more but i'd feel no one gaf. i made these for fun and it was fun making them! i love all of these shows a ton so it was nice looking up the designers and artist for these shows. support the artists!!! fuck bitch fartman!!!!!

[etherealily]

𝒮𝐻𝒜𝑅𝒟𝒮 // 🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. Slur used.

This one is loooong.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Bender? Nah, bend...her (to your will).

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Nate didn't really seem the type to get anxious.

Okay, scratch that. He got anxious when you weren't there to high-five him before a game.

But even that didn't come close to whatever the fuck he was feeling when he called you that evening, yelling as if you'd killed his fucking cat, or something.

"Come faster, come faster!", he urged, ignoring you as you informed him you were only human, and you were on your way as fast as possible. The lewd joke was right there, and he didn't take it. Something was seriously wrong.

"Why the hell are you so jumpy?"

"I'll explain when you get here. Slight change of plans. You're wearing something... conservative, yeah?"

"What?"

"Like, jeans and a T-shirt is fine, I guess.", he muttered, on the other end of the line, as if he was mentally picturing exactly what he wanted you to be wearing.

"Did you think my original plan was to show up in lingerie?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, stop being so fucking defensive!"

That was a slur that you just heard in his voice. "Are you drunk?"

"You're scarily good at this."

"Why are you drunk already?" Wasn't even dark yet.

"Can you just fucking drive, please?"

You rolled your eyes, taking a small moment to sadistically picture his head caught in the wheel, before placing your phone down and speeding up the car that unfortunately had to relive the trauma of driving because Nate Jacobs told it to.

The Jacobs household was infuriatingly stereotypical. Of course he'd have a pretty spectacular front doorstep. It was almost designed to lure you in.

You weren't even allowed to ring the doorbell, he answered the door much before. That was a shame. You wanted to be the one forcing him to come somewhere reluctantly, for once.

"Don't speak unless spoken to." Well, hello to you, too.

"What?"

"It's not just us."

No, no, no, no.

"Nate, you fucking asshole.", you hissed.

"I didn't know! My brother found out you were coming over and told my parents, so they cancelled plans to meet you."

"Why?"

"'Cause our Dad's a jerk, and my Mom's probably going to judge you, and my brother's a coward who hates me."

That was way too much Jacobs drama for one single minute, and you were not even two steps into the house.

"Wait, just-"

"It's fine, just sit next to me, shut up, and don't like... make eye contact."

"Am I meeting your family or getting into the cage with a fucking tiger?"

"Also, don't cuss.", he warned, pointing a finger at you and guiding you by your shoulders further into the abyss he called a home. "Smile. A lot."

Was it really even a normal family dinner if you had to be prepped this much? No, probably not.

"Hey, look who finally showed up!", he chuckled, the fakest breeze in his voice as he steered your shoulders towards a chair.

The rest of the Jacobs family looked up at you.

And suddenly, you'd have been fine clinging to Nate, because he was evidently the mildest of them. Rich freaks.

"Oh, the project partner." His mother, laying plates down on the table before patting your head, was a sight to behold. "Bit late.", she remarked, sickening sweetness lacing her tone as she stared pointedly at Nate behind you as if you couldn't fucking see it.

"Yeah, well, she's just learning to drive, y'know? Goes really slow."

Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, mama's boy, just say you had no intention of having your family here tonight.

"Nate, you never told me she could legally drive."

That must be the brother - the coward. He looked like he'd fucking rip you apart with just a glare.

"I didn't tell you anything.', he mumbled, more for you than him, before making his voice louder. "Y/N, this is my brother, Aaron, Aaron, Y/N."

His eyes made your skin crawl. Like you were a weapon he'd just been able to use against Nate.

"And, uh, my dad. Dad, this is, uh-"

You had no idea when your name had become so hard for him to pronounce, the way he was unable to get it out.

"Y/N, yes, I heard. I'm Cal. Cal Jacobs."

You'd take Nate forcing a gun down your throat to the feel of Cal's hand shaking yours any day.

In comparison, Nate's gun was basically the gentlest thing you'd ever be able to feel. A caress, essentially.

"Sit, sit.", he instructed, gesturing at you to do as he said in his own house or else. "So."

He was so fucking drunk. You could see it in his eyes.

Both Cal and Nate Jacobs were shitfaced.

Nate, you understood, because after hearing his description, even you seemed to need liquid courage to get through a dinner with his drunk dad.

"So.", responded Nate, blankly, as he sat down next to you, as promised.

The chairs you were on were fancy but seemed tired, in a way. Like they were putting up a strong front.

"What, pray tell, is this famous project that you've apparently been sneaking out for, according to Aaron?"

Oh, that was the problem! The sneaking out! Oh, that was okay, that was in your jurisdiction, you could just fix it. Make it sound like there was no other time to meet up. Cool cool cool.

"It's just this thing for psychology. About athletes and superstitions."

"My Nate doesn't have any superstitions. He wins because he's the best.", interjected his mother, as if you'd been holding a gun to his face and she'd just jumped in front of him. You looked at the giant plate she'd just set down. Fucking steak.

With a knowing glance at Nate, you nodded. "Yes, but jocks don't really like admitting it. So I just ask him about his buddies who do have superstitions. Seeing as he has none of his own."

You didn't bother to look at the fuck-you-so-much glare he was sending your way.

"Oh, yes, Mom, Nate's just the best. Don't you think he's just the best, Y/N?", cooed Aaron, clearly hinting at something only he and Nate were in on.

"Yes, yes, he's very good at what he does."

"What he does?"

"I mean, you are talking about him as QB, right?"

He took a gulp of water, nodding as he searched into your eyes for some tell that he'd expected you to have. "Right."

Nate subtly shook his head after you frowned at him. Let it go.

"So, you've taken psychology."

His dad didn't really seem the jerk that Nate had made him out to be. Sure, he had the whole terrifying handshake thing going, but he wasn't all bad. He was the only one with his sanity intact, and the fact that he was plastered yet normal was both relieving and mildly concerning.

"Yeah."

"How come?"

"Always been interested in how it works."

"Can you read minds?"

"Essentially."

"Read mine."

"I... don't know you well enough."

"Later, then. When we know each other a bit better. Meanwhile, dig in."

Involuntarily, your gaze turned back to the asshole you'd had the misfortune of interacting with for the past three weeks, and he nodded, either telling you you did well, or giving you permission to eat.

Either way, your mouth was now shut and would continue to be unless someone forced it open. The awkward clinks of glasses and clangs of cutlery rang through the room, battling fruitlessly to dissolve the tension.

"How's the food?"

Why was Nate trying to get you to talk?

"Oh, great, I really like it."

Nate's mother smiled at that. "Well, thanks. It's actually a new recipe I found on some obscure old cooking show tape my mother had recorded, back in her day! God, I'm telling you, those were simpler times."

Oh. So Nate hadn't cooked. Couldn't say you were surprised.

"Well, it's lovely.", you replied, smiling down at the garbage you had to put into your system. It was nothing personal, really, steak was just gross.

"I must say, Y/N, you're so much more polite than that girl. She was a real-"

"Mom. Mom.", warned Nate, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of his throat in a cut it out motion."She's friends with Maddy."

The entire table suddenly went silent, as if he'd just confirmed your involvement in a pyramid scheme. "Oh.", said Aaron, and his fucking eyes showed you he was full of pure mirth. "That's interesting."

"You're friends with both Nate and Maddy?", questioned Mrs Jacobs, as if trying so desperately to figure out your intentions for her baby boy.

"I'm friends with Maddy, and have been for... basically my whole life. And, yeah, I guess now I'm friends with Nate for the project. I don't get why it's so-"

"She's pretending to be her friend, Mom, alright? It's a childhood loyalty thing, but no one likes Maddy, she's a fu- she's not likeable."

Oh, so now Nate could suddenly write out your entire story and replace it with a script of his own making?

Acting as if she'd just dodged a cancer scare, she placed her hand on her chest, sighing in relief. "Thank god. You could've said that, dear. I was worried for a moment there."

You looked back down at the food. You couldn't shake the feeling that your lack of response had been a form of betrayal, though it was rooted in fear.

"So you and Nate are friends?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I don't know, Aaron, why do people befriend psychopaths? To save their own asses, of course.

"I mean... what do I even say to that?", you laughed, and it was supposed to mock him, but it just showed how nervous you really were. Fuck. Blood in shark-infested waters. "I guess he's... a nice guy, so, y'know."

Even you didn't believe that. Even NATE didn't believe that.

"That's a new one."

You nodded, clearing your throat as you continued to work on slicing up your steak. All three Jacobs men watched the piece go into your mouth and you wanted to throw it right back up.

"You think he's hot?"

"What?"

"Nate. My lil' bro. You think he's hot?"

"Aaron, honestly!", muttered his mother, shaking her head as if this was all just a playful banter session. "Stop it. Nate said they're friends, so they're friends."

Your phone buzzed.

'I really didn't know they'd be here.'

'Shut up.'

'Ur doing great.'

'I said shut up.'

'Lol.'

"Nate, didn't you tell her we've got a strict no-phones-at-the-table rule?"

You stuffed the phone back in your pocket, as well as any hope you'd get out of this house anytime soon.

"I mean, you're a total smokeshow. And he's..."

"Aaron."

Aaron smirked through his chewing, winking at you. "Well, he's attracted to smokeshows. Total match. But you're, what, a cheerleader? That's his real type."

"No, I'm not a cheerleader."

He sucked in breath, sharply, tutting as he shaked his head. "Tough luck."

"Aaron.", warned Nate, sucking his teeth. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying. It's not surprising he hasn't dicked you down yet."

THAT escalated fast.

"Aaron! No cussing at the table, and especially not in front of guests.", hissed Mrs. Jacobs, as if her youngest son's entire vocabulary didn't consist of the word 'fuck'. "I'm sorry, he gets like this when he teases his brother."

"Or maybe he... oh, wait, didn't he invite you here alone first?", mused Aaron, frowning in mock curiosity.

Nate's hand found your knee under the table, patting the side of it as if he could tell you were losing it. There was some kind of psychological warfare underfoot, and you weren't in on the joke, the origin or the punchline. You were being blindsided. Let it go. Fuck what his eyes told you, you'd fucking riot if you didn't get out of there right now.

Cal, who'd been perfectly silent for all this time, leaned back in his chair, his fork down and apparently, his booze-filled blood shooting up. "I'm curious, too. In more polite words than that. Why are you and Y/N just friends?"

Okay, this was clearly not your jurisdiction. This treatment was not because he'd, like, broken curfew or something.

"Dad, we're just partners. Project partners."

"Shame. She's a knockout."

Okay, Aaron saying that was creepy enough.

"No, seriously, Y/N, you're really beautiful. Nate couldn't do better if he tried." Sounded backhanded, and it probably was. "If you're not attracted to him, it's kind of an insult to me, isn't it?", he inquired, innocently, his eyes twinkling. "Aren't I good looking?"

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" It was weird seeing Nate playing the white knight in your story and not the dragon, but hey, you'd take it.

"I mean...", continued Cal, taking a bite of his food, all the while gazing at you. "Unless your issue is just with his personality. Because then..."

What. The. Fuck.

"Y'know.", said Cal, offhandedly, as if the entire fucking table didn't know what he was implying. "Just food for thought."

"What the fuck are you guys doing?", he repeated, his voice sounding more strained by the minute.

"Nate."

"No, Mom, I will fucking cuss, if they're sitting here being fucking assholes about it!"

"Don't you DARE talk to me like that, son!", yelled Cal, and suddenly, you felt like a voyeur zooming in on someone else's life, someone else's argument, someone else's issues.

Aaron lifted up his hands in defense, standing up as well. "Hey, man, I'm just saying. You're disappointing men everywhere if you don't hit that."

"Oh, you're one to talk, you bitchless waste of FUCKING space."

"One goddamn night! One goddamned night without this bullshit, please!"

"Oh, come on, Marsha, you know full fucking well you're no innocent here! You've raised these boys up so goddamn weak that they can't even fucking do their own laundry, and CLEARLY can't fucking learn RESPECT!"

Evidently the no-cuss-rule was out.

Nate's hand slammed down on the table next to you so hard your plate shook, and suddenly, you wished you had shown up in lingerie. At least the mother would've kicked you out as soon as you'd walked in.

Your eyes stayed on your fork, the shitty fucking steak, and you waited. For what, you didn't know. But eventually, Nate sat back down, and so did the other two Jacobs men.

Okay. Phew.

And then Nate muttered 'faggot', and suddenly, Aaron was ushering you into a room - Nate's room, he informed you, in a hurry - and you were locked in. Screams, the sound of things slamming on the floor, and a distinct crack ensued.

FUCKING CHRIST.

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The light from the living room beamed into the room with the monogrammed pillows -pathetic, you had to remember to mock him for it later- about twelve minutes later.

You knew that because you'd been keeping track.

The entire evening was surrounded by a lack of clarity, and after whatever had happened out there that you were not allowed to be privy to, thankfully , you were now completely in the dark as to what the whole stiff, insinuation during dinner was all about. What, they thought you guys were hooking up, was that it?

But all that just dissipated once you saw Nate standing in the doorway, looking at you as if he had just accidentally broken your favourite toy on the playground at five years old. And he was even drunker than he was before.

And once more, you allowed your heart to break for Nate Jacobs.

Wait, no, scratch that.

Your heart broke for him, with none of your own volition. It just fucking happened.

"Are you okay?" What you were really asking was 'did he hurt you?', but you didn't say it.

He didn't respond, and instead took cautious steps toward you, as though you were a bomb he'd never learnt to dismantle before.

But the caution wore off quite fast, because suddenly, your hands were stroking his hair and he was clinging onto you like a vine. Or a python with its prey. TBD.

He kept muttering things into the crook of your neck, things that vaguely resembled 'I'm sorry', but, I mean, it was Nate.

That was usually followed by some kind of blackmail, right?

Blackmail, not pained moments when his mind led him to thoughts that made him grip tighter onto you, like the hug was his lifeline. RIGHT?

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Evidently, you'd heard him right the first time.

"It's okay. Shh. It's okay." At this point there was nothing else you could do except lie to him.

"I fucking hate him, he's a fucking asshole!", he grunted, his words muffled but strong in your hair.

"It's fine, I wasn't offended." You understood. People are weird when drunk. Not usually asking a minor to fuck them kind of weird, but maybe that was just your lack of exposure.

He pushed you away, looking at you as if you'd just suggested cannibalism or something even more sickening. "It's fine? You weren't offended? Y/N, my dad literally asked to fuck you! What, do you want him to, is that why you were looking at him like that?"

'He's sloshed, he's sloshed, he's sloshed.' , you reminded yourself, lest you punch him again.

"Nate-"

"No. I have a question.", he said, closing his eyes and then opening them wide for a moment. This told you that the liquor had just pierced his skull. "You- You fuck Shane Crestin, the biggest fucking cunt in the world, you wanna fuck my DAD, but you won't fuck ME?", he asked, his voice increasing in decibel and his finger repeatedly slamming against his chest, like he apparently wanted to do to you.

SLOSHED, SLOSHED, SLOSHED. Remember.

"Nate, I didn't fuck Shane, I don't want to fuck your dad, and I- I don't wanna fuck anyone!"

"Why not ME? Do you not like me? You think I'm a prick? I'm not good enough for your whore ass?"

"Nate, I'm just-"

"HOW ARE YOU SO FINE WITH MY DAD WANTING TO FUCK YOU?!"

"I'm not! It makes me sick, but-"

"SO WHY WON'T YOU SAY HE'S AN ASSHOLE? SAY IT! SAY IT!"

"Nate-"

"FUCKING SAY IT!"

You almost cried at how fast you had to dodge the lamp that came whizzing your way before crashing and disintegrating against the wall behind you.

It amazed you how you knew that this boy's mother and brother were probably still lingering in the same house, hearing this bullshit, and yet not a peep came out of them. Fucking jerks.

"Nate."

"I swear to god, Y/N, if you don't say it right now-"

"Fine, he's an asshole!"

He looked up at you. He didn't believe it. It's fine, you didn't give a shit anymore. It went without saying, and if he needed you to say it, he was an idiot. "Bullshit."

"You're not apologizing?"

"For what? Yelling? No, I'm not."

Deliberately obtuse, just like always.

Speaking of which, you were a hundred percent sure you'd been grazed at your temple. Your fingers returned from the site with red all over them.

"I could've been hurt." You displayed those fingers to him, right in front of the eyes, so he could better view the same scarlet gore you had to see in his first ever text to you, but he looked at them like you'd showed him his own face in the mirror.

'That's normal', his look said.

"You could've fucked my dad, too, but neither of those things happened tonight." This was what he actually said.

It was like he'd forgotten what happened two seconds ago. Like the shards of glass lying in front of his wall had always been there, and were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Okay, that's fucking it.", you scoffed, shouldering past him on your way out. You'd hoped he wouldn't stop you, but you'd known he would.

"No."

Okay, you'd expected 'wait', or something nicer.

"Shut up, Nate, don't push me."

"You're bleeding. The corner store doesn't have first-aid. I do."

He said it like that was the answer to everything. That you should never have any more questions about his actions.

You let him lead you back to the bed, the silence gnawing at you both. He seemed more than happy to let it devour him whole, seeing as he was tight-lipped and disinterested, almost, when he turned on the light in his bathroom, foraging around for his first-aid kit, or whatever.

He looked like he was about to go batshit for a second time that night, the frantic manner in which he was throwing stuff off his counter to find it, yanking the drawers open so forcefully they'd scream if they could.

Luckily, though, he found the damn thing, tossing it to you from where he stood. Catching it, you opened the box, wordlessly rummaging through for cotton or band-aids or something to keep your hand and eyes - and most importantly, mind - busy.

The cotton sitting nervously in your hand, you took tentative steps into the bathroom, wisely keeping your distance from Nate, who stood still, ruminating on something with one hand still on the drawer's handle.

You stood in front of the mirror.

The mirror lied to you. It always has, always will. Your damage looked minimal, but that was excluding the emotional one.

You looked away from your reflection's eyes to focus on the side of your forehead, and sometimes to your left, at the occassional huff that escaped him.

Mirror-you grimaced just like real-you, as you harshly rubbed at the skin around your cut. So much red.

At this point, it was impossible to avoid your own eyes, those essentially vapid pools of numbness at this point. You didn't know what was going on, and lord knew if you'd understand it even if it was explained to you like a five year old.

Because it couldn't be real. You couldn't be standing right next to the guy who almost maybe blinded you, maybe even KILLED you, had the impact been angled differently.

Your pain only seemed to be getting exacerbated the more cotton you used up. The piece of glass you were trying to remove from your temple was stubborn, like the man who helped transform it from its shape to a shard.

When you finally did remove it, you were quick to try to put a stopper to the gushing blood coming out of it, but the way you did it had you wanting to scream in agony.

"What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to dab, not rub.", he muttered, sucking in his breath sharply as he slapped your hands away, seeming furious at you for not knowing what to do after you get impaled by a piece of broken glass. "The rubbing makes it worse."

His finger turned your jaw toward him, and he snatched the cotton from you before dabbing softly at and around the wound where the little refracting fragment of glass had sat before, and intact, unblemished skin had sat once before that.

Dutifully grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from the first aid box, he tilted it so that it would gently stain the cotton, before pressing it to your temple, shushing you softly as you winced.

Jovially traumatizing what you imagined to be every single cell in the wound, the antiseptic finally fizzled out, its effect no longer sharp and concentrated and debilitatingly painful.

"You're a mess." His voice was so cold, so unkind, so... detached.

You're one to talk.

"Are you going to say anything?" He sounded almost... bored.

You stayed silent. If he thought you were going to give him more things to throw shit at you over, he was sorely mistaken.

He sighed, his jaw ticking slightly. "Y/N."

Your eyes moved away from the mirror behind him and back to his.

He paused his lazy movements to look down at you, your eyes, specifically, before gently bending down so he was suddenly looking up at them.

What that was supposed to achieve was unclear, but what it did affect was your ability to look away.

"I want to hear your voice.", he informed, his eyes moving between yours.

Like a bull craves the muleta.

Glancing down at him, you realized his eyes didn't match his tone. There was something almost dead about them.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Cuss me out, maybe? I don't know. I don't like the quiet."

"Why, 'cause it makes you think?", you scoffed.

"Yes, actually.", he replied, looking at you deadpan. "It does, and that's not really what I wanna do right now, okay?"

He wasn't bored, you realized. He was numb.

"Okay."

"So say something, damn it."

"About what?"

"Y/N. Listen to me when I'm talking to you. I don't give a shit. ANYTHING." He shook your shoulders as if that would cause you to spit out a good conversation in the aftermath of this night.

"Okay, uh... you promised me you'd listen to Queen with me."

He stared at you for a good while before his face softened, just enough for you to wonder if you'd imagined it, and then he frowned. "I did?"

"Yes."

"Then I will."

You nodded. "'Kay."

"Tell me about Queen."

"Look, man, I don't know-"

"Y/N.", he warned, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he reached for a band-aid, eyes never leaving your wound.

"Jeez, fine. Uh, 'We Will Rock You'. 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. 'Another One Bites The Dust'."

"That was them?", he mused softly, the words dying out a little before they reached your ears, as he ripped the cover open with his teeth, then unwrapped the band-aid.

"Yes. Freddie Mercury's the lead singer."

"The one with the teeth?", he inquired, pressing slightly on the band-aid to ensure it stuck.

The sheer dichotomy of what he was doing - cleaning up a wound caused by him that might have killed you- and what he was saying - some quip about the lead singer of some '70's band he'd barely heard of - was astounding.

"Yup." You popped your p, hoping that would echo around the room and fill the silence for long enough that Nate wouldn't pester you to talk again, which was the last thing you felt like doing.

He gazed at your wound for a little while longer before nodding. "Done. Don't touch it for another week, maybe two."

"Okay."

"And I'll get you, like, a blanket or whatever, let me just put this shit back."

"A blanket?"

"Well, yeah. You don't get cold? What are you, superhuman?"

"I'm not staying here. I'm going home."

"Like hell you are.", he laughed dryly, opening his drawer and carefully placing the box back in before moving to the sink again. His hands moved quickly, squeezing paste onto his brush. "Not this late."

You looked down at your watch. "It's nine."

"It's late."

You snorted. "Thought you were the badass curfew-less one. Now you're freaking out about nine p.m?"

Why were you even still talking to this... thing in front of you? Why were you arguing with him? You could just fucking walk out.

He rolled his eyes, his toothbrush being as thorough as possible for a couple minutes before he spat it out, gargling and then turning to look at you. "It's late."

"I'm not spending the night, Nate."

"You a sleep-talker? 'Cause that's crazy shit.", he said, spitting out his mouthwash and wiping with the back of his hand, walking past you as he opened a cupboard, and tossed a heavy-looking duvet down at your feet.

"Nate, I'm not staying over!"

"But the really creepy ones are the sleep-walkers, I'm tellin' you.", he continued, shaking his head as he picked and chose two of his pillows and threw them at your feet, too. "My cousin, back when we were eight, I woke up and found him, like, banging his head on the door. Ouija board shit, bro, I'm tellin' you."

It was clear he was blatantly ignoring you, but what infuriated you the most was that he expected you to sleep on the same floor which was strewn with dangerous, nigh invisible shards of glass.

"Nate!"

"No, seriously, I don't care if it's like, a medical condition or whatever, they're like the fucking Conjuring movie, bro!", he declared, throwing his hands up as he distractedly moved to the other side of his bed, now, checking his phone. "You're not one of 'em, right?"

"You're such a fucking asshole, I'm leaving."

"If you step out that door, I will fucking kill you."

What unnerved you was that his eyes never moved from his phone. This was as casual as his reply to his Mom asking what he wanted for breakfast or something.

Saying he'd kill you was like saying 'pancakes with butter' to him.

"What?"

"I'm going to kill you if you leave." , he huffed, tiredly. And this time, it was clear he really was bored. Bored of the conversation, bored of your resistance, bored.

"You're fucked up."

"Look, sweetie, we've both had a long day-"

"Don't fucking call me that."

He let out a breathy snicker, nodding. Almost like he'd been wondering when you'd call him out on it.

"Fair. Look, bitch, we've both had a long day...", he corrected himself, with a self-satisfied grin, before continuing, "... and I'm not letting you drive home alone with a bleeding forehead."

"I thought you fixed it."

"With the way you're yelling right now, the blood vessel you're about to pop could rip the bandage from the inside out. Look- I- I can't deal with this shit, Y/N, okay? Not tonight. So shut up and close the fucking door."

"My family's expecting me home."

He raised a brow, as if you'd just said something so pathetic he almost felt sorry for you - like you'd just said you still fucking watched Disney Channel, or something. "They know you're here?"

"No." As if.

"Where do they think you are?"

Oh, he'd expected you to have told them you were with another friend. Sorry to disappoint, asshole, but some people aren't as prepared to stay over because their friend had a psycho family.

"I'd rather not talk about it - I don't like to recall my lies."

His eyes widened, and it looked like, for the first time that entire, painful night, he was actually amused, and fuck you for being so pathetic, but you were actually glad you'd mitigated the agony, at least a little bit. "They still think you're at your internship? You didn't tell them?"

"Tell them what? That some jock thinks touching me is his good luck charm, so he stalked me, found out where I worked, and cost me my entire internship by barging in?"

"Or you could've just said your boss was a perv, and you quit."

"He wasn't a perv."

"I'm a guy. I can tell."

Wow, way to dig at an entire gender's ability to perceive danger.

You shook your head, rubbing your forehead. "What is your problem, Nate?"

"I care too much."

You laughed loudly at that, and he looked too tired to even be mad. "I just don't like the thought of you driving home alone at night, okay? Simple as that."

"Then don't think the thought."

"You're staying."

"Like hell I am."

He groaned, putting his phone back down and rubbing his face as he walked towards the front of the bed - towards you. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. Because my family-"

He rolled his eyes, reaching into your pocket and grabbing both your wrists to keep you from stopping him as he scrolled through your contacts - god, you had to get a fucking passcode.

"Maddy- no fucking way.", he mumbled, his thumb racing across the screen. "Cassie- one of Maddy's minions, so no- oh. Who's Lex?"

"Alexis."

"Oh, Alexis Howard? Lexi? She'll cover for you, right?"

"Not without telling Cassie. Now give me back my phone!"

"She won't tell Cassie. How's this? 'Lex, tell my family I'm sleeping over at yours, ok? Love you, xoxo!'", he read out, his voice attempting to mimic yours.

"Is that what you think girls talk like?"

"Yeah, with a scary amount of emojis."

"Misogynist."

"Badge of honour, baby. I'm sure Lexi, one of your best gal pals will cover for you."

Yes, of course, but that was besides the point.

"That's not the point-"

"The point is that you don't feel safe enough to fall asleep around me."

"What?"

"That hurts, sweetie."

"You know what else hurts?", you spat, pointing at the band-aid at your temple.

"It'll heal." He was still refusing to apologize.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

"Smash or pass, uh... McKay."

You almost laughed right then and there. "Smash."

"Really?"

You looked up at his ceiling, imagining him up on the bed, judging your smashability-scale.

"Yeah, why not?"

"You could never do it, you know? Realistically. You're not his type."

"Shut up. Smash or pass... Kat."

"Pass. Hard. Pass."

"Why?"

"I should say it's because she's close to Maddy, but you and I both know the real reason is 'cause she's so fucking ugly that-"

"Alright, shut up."

"See, this is the problem with you girls. Just agree. She's ugly."

"I don't think anyone's ugly. I think it's all action-based."

"God, then you must think I'm hideous."

He scoffed at the silence that followed. "Ouch."

"I don't think you're hideous, Nate. Just extremely unattractive."

"Superlatives, really? Y'know, whatever, I deserve it. Uh... smash or pass, Shane."

"Uh... pass."

"Why?" The glee in his voice was evident and mildly amusing.

"He cussed me out after I said the date wasn't going well."

The laughter that escaped Nate seemed to go on for hours on end. "In the middle of the restaurant?!"

"We weren't in a restaurant."

"Where were you guys?"

"He took me to a club or something."

Nate's face came into your peripheral view as he peered over the edge of the bed to face you. "On a first date."

You nodded. "Yup."

"The guy's both a fucking tool and a miserable little cunt. Anything other than a restaurant is fucking unacceptable for a first date."

"I know, even a bowling alley's fine, but a club is stupid, right? I mean, like, at the very least a café."

He nodded, his mouth curling down slightly. "Yeah, at least. Bare minimum."

It was uncomfortable, him looking down at you with pity the same night that his father had embarrassed him and cussed him out. Wasn't right. "Well, whatever. Smash or pass, uh... Rue."

"Rue Bennett? We got history, so, uh, I dunno."

"History?"

"A miscommunication during prom.", he told you, shrugging, but it was clearly something much more serious. "She's hot when she's off the drugs, I guess."

You rolled your eyes and he smiled.

"Hey, Y/N?" He didn't move back to his pillow, instead letting his arms dangle off the edge of the bed as he reached and toyed with a strand of your hair, glancing down at you. "I'll leave you alone after tonight, okay?"

"What?"

"Like, I- tonight? It was... bad. And I'm... I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm, I'm sorry. If you just, y'know, fist-bump me before every game, we'll be good. Okay? I won't bother you outside of that."

See, he said this, but his thumb kept returning to your lower lip every two seconds. You'd be a fool not to take this deal. But you'd be a liar if you said you remembered anything about life before Nate.

"Okay."

"You should get to sleep. It's two."

"What will you do?"

"Try to sleep.", he mumbled, his eyes moving away from you and towards the glass, which lay several feet away from you, on your left - almost like it was trying to reach your heart.

Your eyes followed his, and you sighed. "For the record, I don't want to fuck your dad."

"Yeah. I got that now."

"You gotta stop drinking, man."

He chuckled, nodding. "No. But thanks for the concern." Rolling back over, he left you staring at the ceiling once more, as if there were clues there as to the enigma that was Nate Jacobs.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

When you'd pulled up to your driveway the next morning - Sunday - it hit you that you were free of Nate forever. Last night, you'd have probably not known how to feel about that. This morning? Fucking elated.

You didn't even have to draw out a map, or take a single moment to think it over - every single problem in your life over the last month could be traced to him.

So fucking yay. Good riddance.

And the next day, Monday, you realized something.

School had never been so fucking fun.

Your classes started making more sense, seeing as you no longer had to look over your shoulder for some motherfucker who'd slit his own throat if you didn't go where he wanted. Fucking yay.

No, seriously. That's it. We're done here. No more Nate. End of story.

...

Ha.

So gullible.

----

Nights after Nate had always been the hardest.

Because you always found yourself losing your sanity and you knew that the only person who could even remotely get your mind off it was Nate himself.

Maybe that was his allure.

Hurting you then comforting you.

Making you cry then wiping the tears away.

But that night, he wasn't there with a blunt or tequila. Hell, you'd have even taken the gun. And you should've been ecstatic that he'd finally left you the hell alone, but at this point you had no clue what you were supposed to be feeling.

The only thing you could do was block him. Show him how mad you were. In your past experience, that didn't really matter to him, but you were running out of options.

And you probably shouldn't have done that, because you might have gotten a heads up about Tuesday.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

You should've had your guard up as soon as you saw Nate walk into the school library that Tuesday afternoon, his eyes somehow darker than when he'd asked you to your face, no less, if you wanted to bang his father. You had no clue whether you had to hide or just keep doing what you did.

Flight or flight was fucking useless.

But your guard wasn't up, at least not immediately, because it was Nate. Because he may terrify you and almost kill you, but he'd never hurt you, because he just... worked differently. Things that may make someone psychopathic, he thought were normal. No biggie.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't secretly hoping he'd come back to further provoke you, because not-being-mad at him was kind of a grey area for you. It wasn't your usual state of being.

The moment your guard went up, though, was when Aaron walked in behind him. Hands in his pockets. Did he have a knife in there? Money? Or would he just flip you off?

You didn't want to find out, but it also didn't seem like you had much of a choice.

[thefanboyhub]

Random ass head cannons I have for SBG gang yuh let's go:

Note/Update: Disregard the eye color thing for Aiden cuz the author has confirmed that his eyes are contacts ✨

Tyler will call people he likes (platonic or romantic) princess regardless of gender, mostly uses it when he's teasing them or in like idk a passive aggressive way. Like "No shit, princess." Or "Okay princes, calm down." Always paired with an eye roll tho.

Taylor hates Taylor Swift because of the annoying jokes people do with her name.

Adding to the last one, Aiden found that out when he made a joke once and she looked like she was about to throw him out the window lol.

Logan has helped everyone get their zodiac charts and read them. He fucking memorized them too. Little nerdy boy <3

Ashlyn doesn't initiate physical touch(hugs, hand holding, cuddling, ect) with people often (cannon btw), but when she does it always makes whoever was chosen feel special.

Ben listens to literally everything. All music. He's polyjamours.

Tyler is actually pretty good at guitar and was something he's liked since a kid, he loves music with heavy guitar in it. He also named his guitar Mel, like Melody. Only people to touch it was Taylor and Ben.

I see some people say Tyler has Logan tutor him but like. No? Tyler is hella smart and doesn't need to be tutored? Like c'mon. BUT Logan does have Tyler help him work out (Logan's body before and after phantom realm goes crazy man) after the whole almost died to phantom thing.

Aiden use to experiment with hair dye before he fell in love with blond. Also his eyes are red, it's not contacts. It's just his eye color lightening s he aged or smt. Fight me.

Ashlyn hates sour food and loves the more bitter stuff. Aiden loves sour food and hates bitter stuff. They trade food sometimes so they don't have to suffer.

Ben and Aiden know ASL, Taylor is learning to talk to Ben better.

Logan can draw but he doesn't do it often but he loves to watch Ben draw. It makes him want to draw too.

Taylor draws on her friends arms, Tyler will pretend to hate it same with Ash but they always ask her to redraw things when they fade. Aiden once had Taylor do an detailed tattoo like design on his arm in class. It didn't wash of for almost three weeks.

Aiden actually has sensitive skin, the wrong fabric gives him rashes. No one but him knows what fabric won't, it's all based on touch.

Tyler can cook really well, and even enjoys it sometimes. Can't bake for shit though.

Aiden knows ballroom dancing. Rich families or old fashioned one tend to know how to ballroom dance (I use to know)

That's all for now