#god I don't want this hyperfixation to pass

[ashoss]

Oops you got me going on two of my seven evil hyperfixations (batfam and pjo) so i'm gonna keep going ❤️ I think for Cass it really depends on what aspect of her personality/history you want to focus on! I've always liked Bellona (Roman goddess of war) for her as a connection to her fighting abilities. I feel like she'd have a similar relationship to her mother as Frank Zhang does to Mars. Hades of course for the connection to death. I also like Nike is another good one, especially with how CONFIDENT she is in the comics that she never loses. Like she's so smug about it, i love it!

Actually, if you still want Cass to have a relation to Hades without her being a kid of the big 3, you could have her be a legacy of Hades and have a different god be her other godly parent (like Frank)! Two for one because Cass is that special ❤️

Another one that I've never seen anyone mention, but one that came to me and won't leave my head, is Nemesis. Nemesis is vengeance, yes, but she is also justice and balance, passing judgment where it is and in proportion to what was deserved. Our first introduction to Cass was that she felt so much guilt over killing a man that she felt that the only way to redeem herself was to die. We see this fuel so much of her actions as batgirl, and even though she eventually grew out of that mindset, that really struck me that Cass was someone kind and fair. She values life so much that she couldn't forgive herself for something that wasn't her fault (passing judgment like Nemesis, but inward instead of outward), so now she fights so that others have a right to live and to right what she thinks of as wrongs

Also depending on which origin you use for Diana, the batkids being demigods means that cool aunt diana REALLY IS their aunt now! Or even better, their cool older cousin (which i think would be incredibly funny) LMAO aunt would be if Diana is directly the offspring of Zeus (along with Cassie Sandsmark, who would also technically be Tim's aunt in this case? LMAO) Cousin would be a bit looser, but going the clay doll route, diana could be regarded as being "birthed" by the other gods, or at the very least, is their champion and near-like their child in that way.

akhjds no please keep going!!! you have fantastic takes on this oh my god

god, nemesis Cass is honestly so interesting. i was focusing more on her relationship with fighting and death for some of my other ideas but honestly it makes so much more sense. (and me taking just the justice/retribution for me wanting her to be Jason's mom) but god that makes so much sense i am actually so in love with this take. (hades legacy cass is also sooo good ugh)

and yes!! that is absolutely their aunt Diana!! (when Jason actually gets claimed his first thing is "like wonder woman???") i also think their connection with some of the other Amazonians would be interesting in this case because it could be the cause for the FUNNIEST shenanigans that the other people don't get.

like Tim complaining to Cassie: ugh yeah there was a couple harpies on my way here. they're such a pain to fight.

Cassie: ugh yeah i know.

Kon and Bart: harpies????

or like, "hey Tim why are you covered in gold glitter?

Tim: had to fight a cheerleader.

[beesinspades]

I love trigun so much.....i love vash so much.....it just feels so special. it's literally become my muse I've never drawn this much in my entire life I'm just so enamored with it and vash and aaahhh. a few weeks ago a friend told me that it's like vash was made in a lab specifically for me and I mean. yeah. I love him I love him so so much he's literally my dream fictional character it's like I won the fictional character jackpot. he's so so special to me nightow I owe you my life

[falinscloaca]

brain. please.

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[bowieandqueen11]

Seductress / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: Hi i was wondering if you could do an izzy x reader where lucius purposely tries to make izzy jealous (it works btw) the rest is up to you also could the reader have gender neutral pronouns so everyone can share the fun! Thank you for fueling the hyperfixation fire! Lots of love 💕

Aww lovely that's so kind of you, thank you!! I love writing Lucius being a little shit (affectionate) towards Izzy lmao we love a flirty bestie!

Warning: Nothing too graphic but NSFW, some sexual innuendos and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @dizzy-izzy-hands.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

You should have known rightly from that tell-tale smirk that Lucius had nothing good planned.

The man had barely been able to sit still all day. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to be as much of a nuisance as possible: must have unwrapped himself from Black Pete's arms that morning, sat up with wide stretching arms and a smile as ferocious as the jaded depths of Davy Jones' locker itself as he decided, with an assertive nod to the rest of the crew, to cause as much mischief as he could that day.

After all, Lucius, the king of pickpocketing, was more than acute at spotting stolen glances from miles away. Of noting darting looks; that morning, as he had sipped his orange juice and observed Izzy over the rim of his glass, it hadn't escaped his notice how he had almost- god, so he had been so close to not losing his nerve. He had warbled, almost swaying from side to side as Izzy plundered the depths of his mind to try and find the courage to sit and have breakfast on your other side, but as soon as you had raised your eyes curiously to see what he had been doing, he jolted back as if electrocuted and scurried off back to the deck. Lucius' sigh had been frustrated enough to blow bubbles of juice out and splatter them onto your already scowling face.

Nor had he missed the lingering wistfulness shrouding Izzy's eyes that same afternoon: the way he had watched you from the rigging of the Revenge, clinging onto the rope as if for dear life any time you passed him by. From helping Roach roll more barrels of dried meat down into the kitchen, or nearly keeling yourself over the edge of the ship to avoid Edward and Stede's impromptu sword fighting lesson, Izzy had been almost... calm. Placated? Silent? Bashful, Lucius thought, as he had watched the man's fist squeeze so tightly into a ball he thought the leather might tear down the seams right there and then. With a hand on his hip and a huff in your direction, Lucius was getting incredibly fed up of being the only one to notice how bashfully Izzy tried to look anywhere else when your eyes met. How your voice cracked when he had come sliding up to you, hammer looking quite menacing as he thumped it against his palm and asked you why you had made it your life's work to cross Izzy's line of vision any time you could.

'This has been going on for weeeeeks, when are you two just going to stop pretending you don't want to slam each other into the wall until you're gasping for air every time you see each other', he had groaned, throwing his head back and trying to beckon Wee John over to give his concerns some backing. The man, too busy sewing a hole in his trousers back together, and having enough sense to fear for his life with the way Izzy was glaring daggers his way, quickly shook his head and buried it back down in the mottled fabric.

'I have no idea what you're talking about', you had replied curtly, effectively ending the conversation. Even if he had flared his nostrils and thwacked you teasingly over the head with the long edge of his sleeve, a blind man would have been able to see the glimmer in your eye as you looked hopefully in Izzy's direction.

No, this man really did not miss a thing. And it was beginning to drive you insane.

Thankfully, he had been gracious enough to already warn you ahead of time about his brand new spanking plan to get this idiot of a first mate to admit his feelings for you. About how, once Stede had informed the crew that they would be stopping off on a little island called 'Tangerine Grove' during the sunset, so he and Ed could have their daily constitutional through the silver gleams cast by pale tree light only the rock hidden away behind the tip of Blindman's Cove could bring, a lightbulb had gone off in Lucius' head.

Which is how you had ended up here: shivering under the growing violet wisps of dusk that splattered the spring sky, sitting alone along an unfamiliar stretch of beach, wishing you could rescind your acceptance of Lucius' excited plan and instead go join your friends as they ran, barefoot, through the wet grains and wrestled each other into the waves. Only Izzy was still standing apart, looking entirely uncomfortable as he rubbed his jaw against his shoulder. Without even realising, he found his heel to be tapping a thousand miles per minute upon the ground: a horrid itching sensation spiking its way up his legs as he tried his best to look nonchalantly towards the dipping curve of the sun. To look anywhere else apart from at you. God, he fucking hated the way you made him feel so... fragile. So stunted. Even Edward had encouraged him that morning to try and express his lingering feelings to you, but a harrowing hatred had pierced his heart and caged the words from escaping their writhing chambers.

Hatred at how foolish he felt running away. Hatred at how Edward teased him, despite seeming like a lovesick idiot for a stupid twat that would be seem like shit scraped off the bottom of his boot compared to you. Hatred at how vulnerable he felt. Hatred for himself. For how he had been the harbinger of his own ruination. How, in the end, his misery was no one's fault but his own.

'Well now', Lucius enunciates in a sing song voice, clucking his tongue at the end. You almost jump out of your skin as he appears before you, drawn away from watching Izzy's face contort in flashes of fury as Lucius' torso replaces your view. His furrowed brow and pursed lips almost endue him with a sage like intensity, as he dips his head and shoots you an almost sympathetic frown.

He waggles his eyebrows as he perches down on the cragged rocks lining the shoreline next to you. 'What do we have here, then? Little Y/n, sitting here on this god forsaken rock with stupid arse over there too emotionally gagged to come keep you company. How tragic. Do you think the stick up his bum stops him from walking over here? Or maybe it's-'

'Lucius, you really don't have to do this.' You grab onto his arm, almost pleading with him through the frantic batting of your eyelashes, but Lucius just pats your fingers and intertwines them within his own. Laying your hands on his lap, he cocks his head and carefully strokes a path down your knuckles.

'Anything for my bestie', he winks, before glancing rather conspicuously behind his shoulder to trace Izzy's path. 'Besides, if that man doesn't just admit his feelings, one of us is going to end up kicking him up the arse. And as much as I would love that to be me, I want one of my favourite people in the whole world to be happy more. Trust me, I’m fantastic at forcing two knobheaded people to admit their true feelings for each other.'

’Oi, I'm not a kno-’, you try to retort with a roll of your eyes, but are stopped short by Lucius grabbing the bottom of your chin like crab pincers digging into your skin, and has already turned your face so your nose is lined up directly with his mouth.

'You know, it's been a long time since I sketched you.' His fingers dart up your face, walking their way up your cheek until Lucius brushed his knuckles back down to your jawline. 'If you like', he leans closer to you and purses his lips, 'we could fill the rest of Stede's journal right up.' He makes sure his voice is loud enough - sultry enough, that even Roach perks his head up from where he's laying starfish on the shoreline.

There we go.

Bingo.

A muscle in Izzy's tense jaw jumps: a minute twitch, but enough to let a far too smug looking Lucius know that he's on the right track.

'Or if that's not your jam, I know something else we can do', he leans in closer so his lips move against the shell of your ear with each word, and despite yourself your back rolls with shivers at the warm blows against your inner ear. 'Roach clued me in to some hidden compartments Stede had built into the ship. No more audience - just us, if you catch my drift', he finishes with an accentuating wink and kiss to the back of your hand.

The sound of a high pitched whistling even made Frenchie and the Swede pause their scuttling in the dirt for starfish, whipping their heads under their arms and burying themselves in the sand as they waited for the cannon fire to land. Nothing came, though. Instead, the sound only grew louder... and louder... until everyone was glancing uneasily up at the puffy clouds, waiting for a cleft to appear through the weaving pink breeze.

Only you and Lucius knew to look inland, rather than up at the heavens.

And there he stood: the incoming hit. The seething tempest. The washed up wreck.

The poor man was already fuming. If he bit his tongue an inch harder, the blood would begin to pour out of the corners of the man's mouth as if he had willingly swallowed arsenic, and was allowing it to fester in the recesses of his heart. Anything, anything would be better than letting it tremble. So blood it is. Down the poison willingly goes.

You would have been able to hear the sigh that blew out from Izzy’s flaring nostrils from the crow’s nest. Forget that: you’d be able to feel the burning steam radiating off his near vibrating body from the next continent. With each passing second Izzy could feel his heart decaying in pulsing oozes through his chest cavity. And with every smile, every lingering brush of someone else's fingers on your skin, the rot residing in his soul became that little bit more mutilating. The touch of Lucius' pointer finger against your cupid's bow finally goaded his insides to slither out in a body wracking convulsion: his heart finally mouldering out through the corner of his eyes in snaking tendrils.

He finds his feet pounding across the horizon before the rational part of his brain could try to keep up. Lucius barely has time to register the swarm of black buzzing in front of his face before claws have dug into his striped shirt and have hoisted him up like a ragdoll. The feel of Izzy's teeth baring against his nose is enough even to make Lucius' head recoil.

'Get your fucking little, dirty, clawed rat hands the fuck away from them.' Izzy spits at Lucius' boots, content only when the man grimaced and took a hop backwards and away from his lacerating fingers.

'What's your problem, Dizzy Izzy', Lucius hisses back, hunching down onto his haunches and resting his hands treacherously on your shoulders: far too close, as he squeezes you reassuringly. Too damn fucking close, for Izzy's taste. 'Just because it's not your fingers, doesn't mean you have to be so jealous. We don't own each other on this ship. If you're interested, all you have to do is say.'

'Who says I'm fucking jealous', he tries to shrug, but his voice is strained. Wracked. He's obviously trying to stop himself melting to your feet and placating himself at your shrine right there and then, ready to die under your heel.

Izzy glances uncertainly along the ground, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner at the way Lucius grins at his growing discomfort. 'Oh come on, you wouldn't mind if Y/n and I headed back to the ship right now, right? After all, Dizzy Izzy doesn't get jealous. He wouldn't care if he could hear screaming coming from-'

'You shut your fucking mouth.' He shoves a thick finger into Lucius' chest, nearly toppling over himself trying to get his arm in to separate the man from your back.

'Or what?', Lucius replies, trying to keep his grip by your neck while also trying to bat off Izzy's slicing hands. He manages to pull back and wring his hand out right before Izzy bared his teeth and took a chunk out of it. 'What are you going to do, Izzy? Give me a lashing? I'm sure you'd love to do that to Y/n. Or maybe for them to do that to you - I've always known you were a mas-'

'You little. Fucking. Tease.' Despite the ferocity of his words as he spits them out from his serpent tongue, the tenderness of his fingers as he reaches down to grip your wrist surprises you. He tugs you up, taking a step around your body as if to shield you from the gratified smirk Lucius is radiating.

'I could destroy you, you know, and everyone would thank me for it. Because that's what you do, isn't it?' He was trying his best to sound as bratty as possible, but there was an almost imperceptible shake in his fingers as he tightened his grip on your wrist. 'A proper little seductress. Using and destroying perfect things.'

'Perfect?', you whisper out from behind his back, your hand coming up to touch your lips as if you could taste the sweetness dripping off the word. Izzy's brows furrow as he curses himself. Fuck. He's fucking done it now. What kind of sap will you think he is? Standing there with knees nearly knocking before you, some kind of fucking pirate with his squeaky voice and thumb circling delicate paths along your wrist.

'Do you really mean that?', you ask, the eagerness in your tone enough to make Izzy's breath falter in the back of his throat. He nearly chokes on it, but finds just enough to pant out the truest words left in his rotten body.

'I... meant, what I said.'

You flash your eyes toward him in surprise, but the man is already staring directly at you. What you were surprised about though, were the tears that were shrouding the usual piercing glare of his irises. He looked almost… childlike. Mythical. Almost pitiable, standing on the long stretch of mist, feet crushing into the grains of sand as if he were willing himself to stay anchored, to not fade away with his tears into the spray of mist.

A man strung up by the tendrils of heart, doomed to stay wanting, waiting, fading into the rays of light.

It was almost phantasmal. And as you used your free hand to cup Izzy's cheek, it was almost enough for him to trick him into believing that he was alive again.

Even Lucius’ mouth drops down into a surprised ‘oh’ as a lone tear manages to tear a ragged path down the first mate’s sullen cheek.

He snorts, raising his eyes to the piercing blue skyline and trying to blink the tears back past his eyelashes. It's when the whining starts: the soft, pitiable howls of a kicked man being held for the first time of his life, that the patchwork mould surrounding what's left of Israel Hands' inner sanctum begins to crack away. He burrows himself into the warm, welcoming palm of your hand, allowing the water to flow over the bud of his nose.

Before your feet could even register that they were moving, Izzy has dragged you away from Lucius and into the shade of a nearby orange tree. A few fireflies began to peek their heads out from between the stout leaves at the disturbance: like honey dripping down from bowed boughs, brushing kindly against Izzy's glowing cheeks and making him seem almost saint-like as they gathered around his head. The sound of your shipmates begins to blur into the distance as the singing is replaced by the wretched pants of Izzy's breath.

He slams your back against the curved bark of the tree, sliding his boots in front of yours and leaning his body over you, effectively trapping you between the scratchy bark and the heaving muscle of his abdomen. You shiver, unsure if it's due to the champagne bubbles lapping their way towards your bare feet, or the feel of Izzy raising the wrist he's almost bruising above your head, no longer trying to hide the fact he's holding you in place against his body.

'Why do you stay around such unsavoury characters.' The bastard bares his teeth at you. God, he was enjoying this far too much. Enjoying raising his knee until the bone nearly kneaded against your groin. Enjoying using his free hand to grip onto your jaw just as Lucius had done, but far needier. He digs into your skin as he tilts your head back, and you can feel his smirk branding it’s way into the bare strip of skin between the nape or your neck and the hollow of your earlobe as he leans down to whisper: 'A fine creature such as yourself should be careful of deranged creatures like that. They slink out of the depths like demons. So perverse.'

Fucker makes sure to run his lips from your shoulder blade right up to your pulse point first, though.

'You should thank me for saving you from his depravity.'

'Oh of course', you begin to smile, playing along with his little fable. His little knight in shining armour tale, so he didn't break apart so easily. 'I have to thank you. You've been watching me for a while, haven't you? Taking care of me from afar...', you take a chance while he's distracted breathing in your scent to dip down and nip at his earlobe.

His legs start to waver then, and with a quick reflex that had got you onto Stede’s crew in the first place, you manage to steady him with a hand placed around the firm muscle of his waist.

'I did my best to save you from that seductress.' His teeth clash against your bottom lip in an almost wantonly manner, hovering his mouth over yours. It takes almost all of his self control to seem like he’s seething as his nose pokes against yours; it takes every piercing shred of self restraint he has to not wet your bottom lip with his tongue.

As tough as he thinks he's being, he’s not incredibly subtle in his thoughts and temptations, if the way he can’t stop staring at your mouth is anything to go by. Something wild makes his eyes gloss over: a tightly leashed repression, a long tempered heartache burrowing their way out of his eyes until he can barely hold back the parasitic tears.

His mouth trembles as it falls open, 'you deserve someone proper. Someone better-', he swallows thickly, eyes darting quickly between your own and back down to your widening lips. 'Someone better than them. Someone better than me-'

He looks wonderstruck, and you can't bear just to see its ferity anymore. You have to taste it. And if the manic glint in his eye is anything to go by, Izzy is in exactly the same boat.

His words are quickly enveloped by your mouth. He gasps against your tongue, his own quivering as an overwhelming rush of pure love gushed through him like the rips of a storm. He wastes no time: afraid this was a trick, a prank, a cruel mirage, his mind still trapped in one of his restless, far too fleeting dreams. He lips frantically latch, smother, tug, overwhelm you until you can barely breathe. Can barely feel. Your eyes flicker close in bliss as he allows you a moment of respite from all his pent-up want, his all consuming need, planting a trail of open mouth kisses followed by wide planted licks down your throat.

The slide of your feet against the trim of his steadying boot is a welcome relief from the burn of Izzy's hand as he grips onto your waist like a man possessed. His fingers clench, nearly lifting your lower half up to grind against his abdomen, stopping himself only at the last second and lowering you back down into his unforgiving grip.

You almost gasp when you feel your name roll of his tongue and reverberate through your neck in a hoarse moan. He tries to subdue his embarrassment by finally... finally reaching up and lacing the fingers clawing at your wrist within your own. If he wasn't too busy devouring the bare stretch of skin between your neck and your breast, Izzy perhaps might have felt embarrassed by the way his pelvis was bucking up wildly, leather slapping lewdly up against your inner thigh.

But he isn't embarrassed. He doesn't feel anything at all, except for a coursing rush of life flow through his veins for the first time in years.

He crumbles against you, surprisingly gentle as he claws and kneads and mewls into you, his lips dragging down and over to the side of your jaw now with quick, tempered nicks. His hand lets go of yours to trail down your inner palm, a shit eating grin branding its way into your chest as it traces down your arm, and then quickly falls so both hands are squeezing tightly into the meat of your waist. He bites down at your skin, incisors almost drawing blood against your pec. He swipes his tongue against the cut in apology, sucking against the skin as his trousers bounce up and tighten at the sound of you mewling. You scramble your free hand onto his shoulder to try and keep yourself in place, the man ravishing you so forcefully the tips of your toes could barely touch the ground.

Your full weight is resting on his torso, happy to let yourself flop over his shoulders and allow easier access for him to litter hickeys along the sinews of your throat. He does so gladly, making sure on his way to lift his hands and move them to slap down on your buttocks with a squeeze that leaves you reeling.

You're too busy whimpering at the feel of Izzy's inner thigh beginning to bulge against your crotch to feel the sting, his leather trousers beginning to tent in an uncomfortable way that made his biceps squirm as he wrapped them around your back. To mask the sharp barks that he begins to whine, he bites onto your bottom lip and pulls it down with his teeth, until he's satisfied that his tongue has full access to delve down your throat.

You quickly pull back and glance behind Izzy's head when you hear a sing-song 'you're welcome!' and vindicated hum of Lucius receding into the distance.

For someone who saw Lucius as such a threat, Izzy Hands could be quite the little seductress himself.

[weirdmorefics]

I Don't Know Who I am Anymore

(Crowley x Platonic Reader x Aziraphale)

A/n- Sorry, I haven't been finishing requests it's hyperfixation time and this time it's Good Omens. This also can be read as romantic or platonic

Pronouns- They/Them

Word Count- 1,183

Summary- The reader is an angel more like was and gets cast out of heaven. When they fall they happen to fall directly in front of their good friend Aziraphale's bookshop.

I never expected falling to feel so cold. I just always assumed it would be burning hot as the air pulled you down to hell. I never thought it would happen to me though. I shut my eyes tight and waited for the feeling to pass. I tell myself this nothing I should embrace the cold before I am forced to an eternity of hell fire.

I hit the ground with a huge thud and cracked the pavement below me. I feel like I can't breathe which is a strange thing I have always been perfect as an angel. My wings shielded me from most of the blow from hitting the ground but I am missing a lot of feathers which are now on the ground. I move my wings around to see what is left of them and they are no longer the shiny white I once knew but a dark grey. Just when I started to breathe better from the fall the shock from the sight of my wings left me completely breathless. I start wheezing uncontrollably and try to stand up my vision blurring from my tears. I whip my head back and forth feeling many eyes on me expecting many demons to be staring at the incompetent angel that couldn't make it in heaven but instead, I see a shocking amount of humans pointing electronic devices at me. I turn in a circle and humans surround all sides except behind me there is a familiar bookshop.

Some humans were asking me if I was okay, some were assuming I jumped, and others said I must be on drugs. Then a tiny human came behind and pulled painfully hard on my already sore wings and shouted "Mom their wings are real they are really real!"

At this shout the building from behind me door swings open at high speeds. I instantly recognized him as the angel Aziraphale he used to be my dear friend we even helped Job together. He probably hates me now because I am no longer an angel they probably sent me here to get tortured by the person it would hurt most from. I just wanted nobody to get hurt! All I said is why should we fight Adam he is just a tiny human, he isn't even fully grown yet. I just didn't want a war where all kinds of beings would die and now I am a traitor! I look at Aziraphale with fear in my eyes pleading with him to just let me run.

I try to turn away but he is quick to grab my arm and announce to the crowd, "Be assured this is just a costume for an advertisement of a new book that will be coming to my shop soon! We were just testing that? Isn't that right Y/N?"

I swallow hard and nod in agreement so as to not make the angel hate me even more. The humans find this as an acceptable excuse because they often will accept anything to explain the unexplainable.

Aziraphale pulls me the rest of the way into the building that is filled with shelves and shelves of books.

Another person walks towards us " What was the commotion angel?" His face instantly sours at my presence, "Who is this demon and what are they doing here?"

That can't breathe feeling is back I try to back up towards the door in preparation.

Aziraphale looks at me and back at Crowley "Surely you must be mistaken! This Y/N they helped us with Job!"

"I remember Y/N but they were an angel this is a demon," He states like Aziraphale is blind. He gets closer to look into my eyes "Though they do look remarkably like Y/N. The Y/N we knew though refused to leave heaven after the job incident for her guilt of disobeying God." He rolled his eyes.

I fall to my knees and beg, "Can we end this charade, please? I know I was only sent here to be tortured before my eternity in hell! By those I consider my only true friends."

Aziraphale's jaw lightly drops open in shock, Y/N is the last angel he would ever think of falling. He is stunned speechless and does not move.

Crowley shakes his head and immediately pulls me to my feet, "No, no, no there is no need for that."

"I- I have failed God. I don't know who I am anymore. I have no purpose in this world. I will no longer be accepted by Heaven and Hell will surely not accept me as you said I did not leave Heaven in decades and I fell trying to keep the anti-Christ safe and out of celestial affairs. I am no one!" I rant out so fast I can truly breathe no more I start wheezing and tears blur my vision.

"Crowley I am not quite sure what to do in this situation. I have never witnessed an angel fall in person." He looks at Crowley with uncertained worried eyes.

Crowley walks up to me but I hardly notice in my state until he holds my body still, "Hey breathe! Heaven is idiotic to let you go! You are the most loyal angel I have ever met and so kind it is nauseating. Heaven doesn't deserve all you have done for them and Hell doesn't deserve your kindness! What do you say and join our side!"

I pull out of his grasp still tearful, "Your side! Aziraphale protects the gates and visited me frequently in heaven! He is an Angel and you hardly know me!"

What Y/N doesn't know is that Crowley already knows he frequents Heaven to visit Y/N. She is a common topic among them during their visits to the Ritz. Aziraphale has always regretted getting them involved with Job because it made their love of God turn to fear making her scared to connect to humans and leave Heaven.

"Trust me, I know you Y/N. You have loved humans since day one when you praised Aziraphale for giving his swords to the humans and assured him it was the right decision."

I twiddle my fingers embarrassed "You know about that?"

Aziraphale pipes in nervously, "Yes, sorry about that. I may have told him since you made me feel so much better in my decision. We also may discuss you a lot… I have been worried about you."

This angered "Did you have doubts about me being a good angel and if so why didn't you say anything!"

"Y/N you have to know I didn't imagine anything like this happening. But there has to be a reason you ended up here and not Hell and it isn't to torture you. You are good Y/N and I know it even Crowley knows it. So as Crowley said join us in our mission to prevent armageddon and we will take it one step at a time together."

I take an unsure breath and look at them both, "Ok I will join you."

[c0la-queen]

I’m begging for more EDD X READERS AND TOM X READER PLSPSLPSPSL I NEED MORE EDDSWORLD CONTENT UGHHHHHHH🙏🙏

Turn the Noise Off | Eddsworld Tom x Reader

HELLO, HI OH MY GODS!!! I am BEYOND happy to provide more Eddsworld content for you!! They've been one of my longest and most present hyperfixations for years, those four boys bring me so much serotonin. Since I don't write for him as often as I should, here's some Tom content!! I hope you enjoy and please feel free to ask for more!! Waking up to your request made me feel so so nice!

Warnings: Comfort, Fluff, Astraphobia, Tom is a big softie and I'm RIGHT

Words: 2.3k

---

Fear can be irrational.

You know that. That's why children and even adults can be scared of silly things that reasonably can't hurt them.

Clowns, darkness, dentists, enclosed spaces…

…thunderstorms.

You weren't sure why exactly you were scared of thunderstorms. It had been like this since you were little. The moment you noticed the faintest flash of lightning, you'd rush out of your room and wiggle your way into your parents' bed, fearfully awaiting the booming noise that followed. Now, as an adult, you can handle it in minor doses. Light rain, faint thunder; it made you apprehensive, but you could distract yourself enough to stay calm. It was the stronger storms that set you off.

Like now.

It was probably around 6 or 7 p.m. The sun had set half an hour ago, leaving the sky outside the window an inky black. You were alone in the house - the boys had left to go shopping and pick up dinner. Knowing them, they'd probably be gone for another hour or so.

Normally, you wouldn't be so bad. You were an adult. You can handle a silly storm.

Not this time. Not tonight.

Your noise cancelling headphones were dead.

Sure, you could stick them on the charger easily. But they would take too long to charge. The storm would probably be gone by the time they finished. And in the meantime, you would have still been stuck in this same position. Besides, your brain was running off anxiety, you weren't exactly thinking clearly.

You were in the living room, since you had been watching one of your favorite shows on TV previously. The storm had interfered with the connection, so you couldn't continue watching it in the time being, even if you wanted to. Feeling antsy on the couch, and not being able to find a comfortable position on the soft cushions, you had slid yourself down to the carpeted floor instead. It was soft, but the texture was still a little rough against your skin. It kept you grounded slightly. Enough to know you were there, in your body still. Legs pulled up to your chest, you hid your face in your knees, eyes shut tight. You listened to the torrents of rain crash against the roof, the walls, the windows, battering at the house like an intruder attempting to break in. The thunder rattled the earth, shaking the ground with the power of its volume. Despite the little voice in your head telling you that the storm would pass, you couldn't help but be afraid.

You were going to die. You were going to die. You were going to-

You flinched when something touched the top of your head. With a wet gasp, your head shot up. Was it really an intruder, entrance hidden underneath the violence of the storm?

No, it was… Tom. Dressed in his normal hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. He knelt on the floor in front of you, making sure he was level with you. Even though the black hue of his eyes made it impossible to see any emotion in them, you saw that his lips were bent into a soft frown. Concern. His lips moved, going to speak, but his words were drowned out by a crash of thunder. You involuntarily whimpered, unable to hold the noise back from your throat. Burying your face back in your knees, you missed the way Tom's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

The hand on your shoulder slid down to your bicep. You could feel the warmth of his skin seep into your bones as his fingers wrapped around it. He pulled -

-and then you were surrounded by the warmth. Your face pressed into something warm. Solid. The familiar scent of coffee and something woodsy with the faintest hint of smoke - fire or cigarettes, you could never figure out - completely filled your senses. It was Tom. He had pulled you into a hug.

You felt your muscles go slack. Pulling your face from his chest, you peeked up at him. He was already looking down at you. Still no emotions in those eyes. But you felt his hands cup your cheeks, gently, as if you were made of glass. His thumbs swiped away the tears that you hadn't even noticed were spilling. They stung your cheeks.

His voice was soft, like he was speaking to a frightened animal. That's what you felt like at that moment.

"Talk to me, sweet girl."

Something in the back of your brain slid into place at the name. An instinctual piece of you that melted into his arms, knowing you were safe right there. You fought past the thick lump of saliva in your throat to speak. Voice raw from tears and anxiety.

"It's just.. the storm."

"I gathered that much. What is it the storm itself? Or something about it?"

There was no malice or bite in his voice. Only tenderness and worry. Care.

"It's, um, the thunder? Or how- how loud it is. And how the rain is loud. It's stupid, I know…"

You sniffled and looked down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. Tom said nothing. It scared you for a moment. That fear intensified when you felt him move, beginning to slide you out of his embrace. Your fingers flew up, curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you clung to his shoulders. He did think it was stupid. He was going to leave you all alone, make you get over this by yourself-

"I'll be right back, baby. Gotta let me go get something."

Finally, you relented. He set you back on the carpet, standing up. You stared at the floor, listening to his socked footsteps fade away. You silently counted the seconds until his footsteps returned, his legs coming into your field of vision. Something fell onto your head before you could look up at him. It was fabric, and carried that woodsy scent of his. Your hand curled into the fabric, pulling it off your head and into your lap. Even in the limited light, you could identify the blue color. It was his hoodie.

Eagerly, you slipped it on over your t-shirt. He wasn't too much taller than you compared to the others, but the material still swallowed you in a way that you loved. It was like a safety net for your brain. When your head finally emerged through the hood, he was already sitting back down in front of you. The smile on his face made your heart skip a beat. It wasn't often you got to see him being so soft.

Tom reached forward, slipping something slightly heavier onto your head. When it was over your ears, you felt all the noise in the room disappear. You looked up at him in awe, making his smile stretch further. He had brought you his own noise cancelling headphones.

With the sounds of the storm cut away, you focused in on his appearance more closely. Since you were wearing his hoodie, he was left in a t-shirt. His hair was mussed, strands of it out of place. You figured he had recently gotten out of bed. When Edd had announced to you that they were going out, you assumed he meant all four of them. Tom must have chosen to stay behind. You weren't sure if it was because of a simple lack of desire to leave the house, or if he didn't want to leave you in the house by yourself. The idea of the latter option made your heart speed up, even if it wasn't true.

You noticed he was looking at you expectantly. When your head tilted in confusion, his shoulders shook. He was laughing at you. While the rare sight warmed your cheeks, you pouted at him in embarrassment. Why was he laughing at you?

Your eyes followed his when he motioned down. His phone was in his hand, screen towards you as it sat open to Spotify. Your gaze raked down the playlists on display. The Best Ska, Quiet Rainy Days, Shut the Fuck Up, Tord-

This were his playlists. You looked up at him in shock. To some, this may have seemed mundane. Unimportant. But you knew better.

In a house with boys who had never known conventional forms of affection, you had learned to spot the little things. To read between the lines of their words and actions.

Music was one of Tom's love languages. It was no secret to anyone that the man loved music, playing bass was his joy and passion during the moments that he didn't have a camera in his hands. For him, sharing his music with others was a show of affection, a glimpse into his brain through lyrics and instrumentals. And right now, he was letting you look through his Spotify playlists and choose one to listen to. Sure, you had listened to his music before in the car, when he had control of the aux. But during those times, he picked the playlists. Now, he was giving you control. It felt… vulnerable, in a way.

Carefully, hands trembling lightly, you took the phone from his hands. You could swear that from your peripheral vision, you caught him grinning. Almost like he was amused with how reverently you treated this act.

Then, you focused your attention on the playlists. There were a lot of them, you realized as you scrolled. Some of the names made you laugh softly. But then, one playlist caught your attention.

She's Standing Outside the Bar with Me while I Smoke

That was way too specific to not be something important. The playlist cover was a picture of a blurry figure standing outside of a building, looking up at the stars. Smoke from somewhere off camera gave the picture a hazy filter. With a jolt, you realized it was a picture of you. You recognized the building, it was the bar in town that Tom liked. The memory hit you suddenly.

It was Tord's birthday, and the boys wanted to go out drinking to celebrate it. Not wanting to miss out on the celebration, you had tagged along. None of them minded.

The bar was nice. You saw why Tom favored it. The décor was all dark wood and dark accents. It was crowded that night. Judging by the big group at the corner of the place, it was likely some kind of party. Maybe a bachelorette, or someone else's birthday. At some point, it had gotten too loud. Even from your little booth on the other side of the room, the music pulsed loud enough that you felt it throb in your head. To try and lessen the inevitable headache coming your way, you followed Tom when you noticed him slip out of the booth and through the front door. The night air had been a comfort to your senses. Tom had seemed surprised to see you, but didn't complain about the company. The two of you stood on the little wood ramp in a peaceful silence. At some point, you had gotten distracted by the night sky, spotting Orion's belt. He must have taken a picture of you during that time, between puffs of his cigarette.

Your cheeks heated up. That meant… this playlist.. was made for that memory. For you. You clicked on that playlist.

Tom must have noticed your blush, because he raised an eyebrow questioningly at you. Shyly, you showed him the playlist he selected. It was his turn to look away, flustered. But, you spotted a smile on his lips.

You set the phone on the ground between the two of you, focusing on the song that was playing. It was slow, calm, and so very Tom. The lyrics made something tight press against your chest. This was how Tom felt about you. This was a hint of how he saw you. You could feel his eyes on you, trying to decipher your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes. He looked more antsy than you had ever seen him. It was important to him that you liked it. You made sure that your eyes held all the adoration you felt for him. It must have worked, because you noticed the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. His chest moved in what you recognized as a huff, then he reached an arm out, pulling you into his arms once again. All over again, your body melted into his hold. You closed your eyes.

No storm could reach you here.

You were safe.

--

Edd huffed as he opened the front door, shuffling in to try and escape the rain. Tord and Matt followed behind him, holding the grocery bags while Edd carried the takeout they had gotten everyone for dinner.

Just as Edd was about to call out, announcing their presence, Tord's elbow jabbed into his side. He grunted softly, then glared at him. Before he could snap, ask what the hell that was for, Tord pointed off to the side. Edd's gaze followed that direction.

Sitting on the living room floor was Tom, his back pressed against the couch. You were in his arms, face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie. Edd recognized the black and white checker pattern on the headphones you were wearing - they were also Tom's. Both of you were fast asleep, chests rising and falling evenly.

Edd felt all his annoyance with Tord bleed away into tenderness at the sight. Joy filled his chest. He just couldn't help it as he shuffled the takeout bags onto one arm and pulled out his phone, snapping a silent picture of the two.

Muffling little giggles, Matt quickly ushered Tord and Edd into the kitchen, leaving you and Tom to sleep undisturbed.

[archie-sunshine]

Hi! Hello!! It's 5am and after reading the 1.5 Driftrod chapter I couldn't help myself by showing my appreciation for it- LIKE THANK YOU!!

My mean Drift apostle- I love how you characterise him! Thank you for sharing this! (Also, amazing how they both got send to horny jail, tho I doubt it would stop Drifty from being a mean teasing b-)

Anyways, a did question did pop up- two actually. But they don't really relate to each other. Kind off?

First, what are your thoughts on Hotlock? My heart, brain and evil horny half of me aches for both sides of Rodimus and Drift so I always have double brainrot about them (-size difference. it's the size difference.)

Second, I didn't find it anywhere on your info page(or maybe it's just me being blind, apologiesif it's the case) but do you have a Ko-fi or something similar? I'm a broke uni student but I still wanted to support you in some monetary way! (Also because I totally want to commission hotlock but felt guilty by just asking without paying hhh)

Sorry for the long ass ask! 5am me is ecstatic about what they just read and future me will feel shame and pass it down to at least three generations for making a fool out of myself.

Have an amazing day and keep being great!!

So do u guys ever get an ask that leaves u kinda sittin there like this?

*ahem* anyways!! Sorry, i got very carried away drawing sketches for this ask so if this is like- super overwhelming i apologize

THANK YOU!! FOR ENJOYING THE SECRET DRIFTROD FIC!! I have a lot of thoughts about drift and his sex life and libido and personal preferences. I won't go into heavy detail(unless someone sends an ask wanting to hear about my thoughts) but i fully agree that drift has a mean streak the size of the grand canyon, but also has so much internalized guilt that he REALLY tries to not do anything about it. Rodimus is oblivious to it- until Drift eventually snaps and makes his intentions very very clear. But there were some obvious warning signs, i.e. being a very persistent sex pest and getting way too revved up from bullying rodimus with the magnetizer on.

AS FOR HOTLOCK??? I genuinely hadn't thought about it- until i read an absolutely life changing brain shattering wip from a friend of mine. AND NOW!!!??? NOW ITS IN MY BRAIN. i cannot get it out of there. LOVE hotlock, lots of thoughts on hotlock. The tension, the hatesex, two pent up freaks with the libidos of rabbits. What's not to love right? (apologies, im not the best at drawing Hot Rod idw style but i think this gets the point across yea?)

I personally find it very compelling that they would start out hating each other, and hot rod would likely continue to consider their whole relationship more of a sexually charged rivalry. but deadlock I believe would become almost animalistically possessive of hot rod. Still hating him, still savoring the thrill of hunting him for sport for the express purpose of beating the brakes off him. but uh... not wanting anything to get between that.

I like to imagine that characterization for deadlock no matter who he ends up with, BECAUSE, I also really enjoy the idea that Drift would harbour a lot of guilt and shame for that part of his life? like i personally believe Drift would try to cover up as much of deadlocks remaining character traits as possible out of guilt, pretend they arent there and that he's a much more even tempered, normal person about the relationships he's in.

Now is that possessiveness or mean streak really gone?.... I mean...

drift would probably very much like you to think so.

NOW!! about commissions, first of all holy shit thank you? what? Don't spend your money on me good god- I USED to have a ko-fi, but i have not used it in a very long time!! I really appreciate the sentiment, but especially if youre hard for cash, I'd be happy to just draw requests because i think they're fun!! so feel free to suggest whatever you'd like to see(as long as its like- one of my hyperfixations bbgfdgfds-) I personally really love making people happy with my art, so like- praise, recognition, and knowing that my work made people happy(via comments or tags or inbox messages) is like fucking crack to me. I'd love to draw driftrod/hotlock for anyone, literally anytime, bc it would make them happy :] and that would make me happy :]

Like, see? I farted this drift out in under 10 minutes and it made me so happy to draw and i went 'omg the little people in my puter are gonna love this drawing' and it brought me infinitely more joy than the 25 bucks id get as payment for it.

IF!! I do open for commissions though, i'd likely be accepting payment via my paypal in CAD, and you'd likely see me open for them on my blog if you're following me!!

I know this post is already like exorbitantly long, for which i apologize, but i do want to say you should never apologize for the enjoyment you gain from someones work!!! This ask has made me so happy!! It makes me really glad to know that someone out there who i don't even know was brought joy by my very stupid fanfic at 5am somewhere. ALSO??? the fact that someone halfway across the world from me can see and love and enjoy something I made??? THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL WHAT?? The connection that fandom and creation can bring is beyond description and I am glad that my work reached you. any of you. all of you. thank you anon.

(jesus christ im getting emotional in this chilis today)

[Feeling nosy? Send me an ask or request in my inbox!!!]

[full sketchpage under the cut!]

[mulderscully]

honestly, staying away from tumblr is hard! i still check in every day, but in using it less even for 2 days i'm #realizing that i don't think it's just the anons stressing me out even if it certainly doesn't help. i think i have using this site in a way that isn't healthy or productive to my mental health.

i have been trying to use it how i used it when i only worked part time or when i was in college and that isn't feasible anymore. i simply cannot spend hours giffing daily and watch tv and write and read AND spend time with friends, between two jobs. i have to accept that giffing is becoming a passing thing in my life that i do when it strikes my fancy. not something i do all the time.

i realize i put a lot of pressure on myself to #create so i can #engage like it's some sort of currency and i think that's bad for me. i also put pressure on myself to reblog things people tag me in even if i don't really want to because i don't feel strongly enough to reblog it. like. i don't really like eddi/e diaz, and people tag me in eddie when i barely blog abt him and i then don't wanna be rude and ignore gifsets, or be rude and be like "hey, i don't like this extremely popular character." so i just scroll on or reblog it but i still feel guilty and that isn't healthy? like baby it's just a tv show! idek.

and then i feel guilty for not "evenly" creating for my multiple fandoms! i have been in this rwrb hyperfixation since august and it still isn't going anywhere, so ofc it's what i want to gif a reblog most and then i feel like guilty because i haven't giffed doctor who, or the x files, or buffy or whatever "enough" since i got rwrb brainrot and it's like god, it should not matter this much!

i don't know how my brain became this way but i really feel like i need to change something about how i blog, even if it's just pausing doing anything else and just being honest with y'all.

[crimeronan]

Hello, got a TOH question for you! I'm trying to write a scene from only-slightly-canon-divergent!Luz's POV, and to dismay finding I'm struggling with it. Any pro tips for writing her you can pass on to someone who didn't study at Luz University? 😅

aw, this is a sweet ask. i'm flattered to be considered a resident luz expert! and i LOVE an excuse to infodump. this got long i'm sorry i just love thinking about. my girl.

luz is usually pretty whimsical and optimistic (which is why her later self-destruction hits so hard), she believes in people and she believes in The Triumph Of Good Over Evil. she's weird and doesn't understand social norms but she cares So Much, About Everything, Ever. she believes that things will work themselves out like they do in stories, she sometimes steps on people's toes when she's trying to fix a situation, she loves an underdog story and it's constantly getting her into trouble.

i think the biggest three things for me when writing luz POV are these:

-

she is UNRELENTINGLY kind and trusting.

this is her biggest strength - she's constantly befriending her enemies through the sheer power of earnestness. and this is how she makes and keeps friends like willow, gus, and eda.

this is also one of her biggest weaknesses - she gave hunter back his staff in hunting palismen when she Really Should Not Have, she didn't pick up on philip's Bad Vibes, etc.

she truly honest-to-god believes the best in everyone and is surprised and hurt whenever they disappoint her.

-

2. she has NO impulse control and CRIPPLINGLY hyperactive ADHD.

luz is all over the place, constantly. her thoughts and hyperfixations go a mile a minute. she can devour a book in a day and learn a conlang in a week, but she can't sit still and she has the type of ADHD that makes traditional classroom learning borderline-impossible.

outside of school, you see this constantly in the decisions she makes, or rather the decisions she Doesn't make. luz always blurts out exactly what she's thinking, when she's thinking it. she always thinks that her first solution to a problem is the best one & rarely plans beyond that. she's not an analytical strategist. in fact she's frequently fucking up everybody else's plans by..... just. being luz.

the fact that luz always says and does whatever she's thinking is, again, one of her greatest strengths: she is SO earnest and genuine, and it makes it easy for people to believe in her. she loves SO openly and is so lovable in turn.

it's also one of her greatest weaknesses because. oh my god, girl. challenging boscha to a witch's duel on willow's behalf. angrily shouting straight-up heresy about belos in public in hollow mind. all the shit that got her into trouble in the human realm before she ran away. u know

-

3. she is Desperately Afraid of hurting people.

i'd say she's afraid of being a Bad Person (TM), but i do think her fear is more specific. in WAD, her nightmare isn't exactly about having committed atrocities herself -- she doesn't even believe she could have! she knows she didn't create the statue graveyard, she immediately tells amity "i don't know what's going on, but i wouldn't have done this."

all of her fears are related to things her friends & family went through after meeting her.... she's terrified that she's going to hurt the people she loves, no matter how much she tries not to. she's terrified that her presence in the world is harmful by itself.

same with her rant in the classroom in TTT. when she says "it would be better if he [i] never existed," she even says (paraphrasing) "who cares about the broader impacts or the greater good. who cares if he was a hero or wanted to do the right thing. it doesn't matter!!! what matters is that he ruined everything anyway!!!!"

her anxiety with papa titan reflects this, too. "doesn't that make us just like belos??" she's figuring out how to navigate the world and complex morality and she's terrified of getting it Wrong. she already feels like she's done everything wrong & it's completely shaken her sense of self. she doesn't trust herself not to hurt people or to work for evil because she doesn't have a clear understanding of what separates her ideology from belos's.

this third point often isn't relevant in fluffy/lighthearted fic because luz's optimism, joy, and simple zest for life are Definitely dominant in her character. but it is VERY relevant when doing character studies or angstier writing exploring her headspace in situations where she feels guilty or afraid.

-

everything else is set dressing. she's quirky and weird, she's bouncy and stimmy, she loves bats and rats and snakes and bugs and creepy crawlies, she loves gross shit, she loves shipping and romance and sweeping high fantasy, she gets Deeply invested in every random plan she ever conceives, and she is Astonishingly easy to love because of how easily she loves.

you don't have to keep every single detail of this in mind when writing her!! this was just a nice excuse to gush about my girl who i love so so so so so fucking much. luz love of my life daughter of my heart FOREVER.

[signedmio]

I was waiting for an opening as I saw you had match ups available and would love to see who you'd put me with.

Preference for male characters from Hazbin Hotel

About me: You can call me Claire. I'm AFAB she/her, 5'3", panromantic demisexual. I'm Tim Burton pale, brown eyes, messy curly bob brown hair, glasses with glasses chains usually, chubby but strong, dress either romantic gothic feminine or butch cryptidcore, like no in between, never wear make up because sensory hell.

Some type of neurodivergent but not diagnosed specifically. I tend to know a little about a lot of things due to jumping from focus to focus. Queen of Dad jokes, rather blunt since I'm not subtle. Aside from English can speak Latin, some Gaelic, some Spanish, a little bit of Turkish/Arabic, Church Greek and Slavonic, and random phrases in Russian, German, and Italian. I'm ENFP, Ares cabin from PJO if that means anything.

I teach preschool, love children as they're so fun to be around and the possibilities they have ahead are wonderful. I also bake, sew, knit, read tons of books, collect rocks and other nature stuff, tend to the gardens, I sing in my choir, and like to listen to music. Not specific music genres that I care for, more vibes, but been into some Bauhaus lately, along with SJ Tucker and The Dead South.

My faith is important to me, I even am considering pursuing becoming a religious sister at a convent, like a nun.

I do love horror, romantic gothic poetry (Think Poe and the like), analog horror(DOAI, Mandela Catalogue), Dr. Who, bad b movies (think Redletter media level bad), animation in general, HB HH, stuff like that, I read everything and anything so long as the narrative is interesting or the subject is a hyperfixation of mine, such as Religions, Mythology, History relating to late Medieval to Elizabethan, textiles, fantasy, or speculative biology (like thought potato on youtube). I also do dress in character for the Renaissance Festival, people assume I work there as I have season passes for the last 5 years and attend all weekends from open to close.

I tend to be a sweet tooth, love any chocolate, baked goods with richness or chocolate flavors, drink lots of coffee, tea, sweet red wines, mead, rum based cocktails or dark malty beers if we're going alcohol, though I tend to be the driver if I'm going to party somewhere. My giving love language is touch and words, along with acts of service. My receiving love language is words, touch, and gift giving. I love to cook or make gifts for others, usually don't expect it in turn.

I'm loud, maternal, weirdly dark yet wholesome, and able to lift a toilet with my bare hands up two flights of stairs. I tend to talk either like a southern grandma or terminally online weirdo with random swears. When friends have a bad breakup I'm like do you want a hug or does someone have to die?

In relationships I can be very talkative, but also in a sense the less dominant partner. Like, I handle the day to day, but not great at organizing the dates, the stuff like that's more romantic. I'd hope my partner could handle that part. I'm also romantically easily flustered. Like squeaking and burning red in the face from genuine good flirting.

So hope you can find someone right for me, God Bless you dear.

hello claire!! i decided to pair your with…

Lucifer !!

First of, he loves your love of kids, and let’s be real, he probably has a love of kids as well, as much as Charlie is an adult, he would probably eagerly introduce you to her after finding out this tidbit of info

Honestly, to him, you give off very strong, emotional support wifey vibes and honestly he is all in for it haha

Lucifer doesn’t mind that you can be very talkative, infact, he enjoys it.

He tries to make it fairly easy when it comes to planning dates for you, so most of the time, you both just stay in

Also, Luci is definitely someone who gets flustered easily, so you both just end up giddy and smiley at eachothers shy little flirty comments and it’s the most heart warming thing

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

I want to hear more about Zero Year Riddler being kind of a loser, please.

Zero Year Riddler is Actually A Nerdy Dork-Ass and I Have Evidence

aka at max ten pictures from the comic books. I apologize now that I had to get selective with photos and that these photos I took myself because I'm too lazy to scan. Includes hcs based on the canon stuff.

TW: Spoilers for Batman: Zero Year also known as Zero Year - Secret City and Zero Year - Dark City

We are going to be jumping around a little with these pictures. So the most basic/stripped down timeline- Edward sets off a massive plot w/ Doctor Death to first black out the City of Gotham while he prepares the Big Guns. Weather balloons filled with toxins to ensure no one is getting in or out of Gotham. He floods the city. Tells the surviving citizens that if they all want to get out, they have to give him a riddle he cannot solve. If you think that last part sounds very folk-lore or fairy tale like, YOU WOULD BE RIGHT. This period where he's setting up this challenge is the titular Zero Year. He is set up inside the Sphinx display in the Gotham History Museum. Batman stops him. onto the actual discussion.

We are first going to start with his introduction. I've discussed this before in a different post but this is meant to tell you multiple things. He has fifteen degrees he's earned. He makes conspiracy theory string boards. He is a dweeb who wears pocket protectors. The important thing to note story wise is that most of the points in this board are important/have a specific role in the story. He's correct about them. They matter. You might be saying "ok Fox/Belle but how does this say he's a nerdy dork-ass?"

look at him. He's described as being "boastful and annoyingly egotistical, but socially he's an egghead." This is not a man who plays well with others. But he genuinely thinks of himself as someone better than everyone else. What do you get? A smokescreen of theatrics, egotism and showing off to hide how socially inept he is.

Next, and sorry the first picture didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped. This is the first meeting of Edward and Bruce Wayne. Of course Edward has already plotted his death. Will try to enact this plot. The page with the snake is a reference to the ancient Egyptian game of Mehen which Edward mentions in passing earlier in the story. Historians currently don't know much about the game other than it's distinctive board- However here it becomes a parallel to Ouroboros. The snake that eats it's own tail. Its known as an alchemy symbol and spiritually represents the unity of all things. Life, Death, Rebirth. In Edward's mind: destruction and rising from ashes aka Gotham in his plans.

The second is post Zero Year, telling the citizens of Gotham his motivations. This is his monologue showing his warped version of the Hero's Journey. The Hero's Journey for those who don't know is a very old archetype on which many fictional stories are all based on (whether they realize it or not.) In it's simplest terms, a hero goes on an adventure. The hero through trauma and hardship, learns a lesson, wins their "boon" and returns home with newfound knowledge that transformed them as a person. Note this sounds kind of similar to the Ouroboros thing, doesn't it?

Edward wants to leave a mark and transform Gotham. Potentially the world. He wants control he never had growing up. He wants all of it.

On the headcanon end... This information combined with his hyperfixation on mythology (mentioned below), this man plays tabletop. Hear me out. God complex. Verbose. Theatrics. Obsession with heroics, the heroes journey and folklore... this man not only plays DnD, he has been a GM countless times. I think he'd play other tabletops as well, but DnD is his bread and butter.

His main race (in traditional) is a gnome because of the intelligence stats. When he does DM/GM, the story is rich and so fucking detailed. He is also mean as hell and will murder all your characters in emotionally devastating ways if you get unlucky. He'll never admit any of this to people he finds cool or too attractive (unless they get to know him first). He has a strong wall up to try and prevent any weakness or vulnerability to show through.

He likes fun facts. Not just about mythology he is the one who spits out statistical data and random fun facts in regular discussion. It's almost compulsive. At another part of the comic where he almost shoots Lucius Fox dead via robot, he states the statistical probability that he was already hit with a bullet, but to reload and shoot again anyways. Then he is in the middle of telling a trivia fact about foxes before Batman comes in to save Lucius.

This feeds into my headcanon that he's neurodivergent. And also was a Jeopardy fanatic as a child. Probably still is. He likes to impress (especially dates) with the knowledge he can pull from seemingly nowhere. Also if you haven't gotten the impression yet, he cannot and will not stop talking. Loves the sound of his own damn voice. You know he's monologued himself to trouble multiple times. Also note how smoothly he's just glossing over his shitty dad/abusive childhood (again.)

Piggybacking on the last point- He has a special interest (read: potentially hyperfixation) on mythology and folklore. On multiple occasions he mentions these stories in passing as an anecdote for the events currently happening around him. Archimedes was a greek mathematician in ancient Sicily. He invented a great many things and would come to be known as one of the leading scientists of classical antiquity. The story Edward references is a rather famous one- Archimedes invented complex pulley systems and was tasked to prove the strength and ingenuity of these pulleys by moving the Syracusia, a luxury cruise ship, in and out of the water.

The second he mentions the story of the Gordian Knot. The tale goes as such: Alexander the Great's time. Whoever could untie the Gordian Knot was said to be destined to rule all of Asia. No one could solve it. The knot was impeccable. It was complex. Alexander the Great showed his great mental genius by doing what no one else had done. He cut the knot. There's more to it but that's the gist. That's the why of why Edward looks to this story and remembers it.

Everything about The Riddler of Zero Year is about proving his intelligence. Creating a name and a culture enveloped with smarts. If we didn't have the lore associated with Egyptian mythology as well, I'd say ancient Greece is his topic of choice but I think he likes all of it. That said, this man likes historical movies, historical texts, museums. If you take him to a museum or any kind of zoo or aquarium, he's going to talk your ear off on what he already knows for at least several hours. Are you impressed? Please be impressed. Tell him how smart he is and praise him like your favorite house cat.

The final pictures with actual analysis. These might seem silly or a rather insignificant detail to zoom in on.

This is him setting off the triggers to flood the city. Note the suitcase. He says this out loud to no one but himself. His own joke that only he gets to laugh at. Then he LITERALLY walks away whistling. A lot of this kind of behavior feeds into him knowing and being so smug about how clever he is. He's watching dozens upon dozens of citizens who have no idea what is going to happen to them, running in fear. And he's focused only on how gleeful he is that it's all coming together.

In the second: this is the final trial. Batman saving the city of Gotham and Riddler getting to have his big villain moment. And from the moment he reveals the lightshow of lasers ready to cut down our hero at will- he begins playing with his cane and hat. To the point that Batman is almost panicked for him to stop and just ask the damn questions.

These both run to one point and that's to him, this is all a game. We don't know this in the story yet, but he has an additional failsafe to blow the city up even if Batman wins (he doesn't expect him to, but he always makes sure to be a step ahead in case). He's lighthearted because, despite his curiosity around Batman and being constantly surprised that Batman keeps surviving, he considers this chess game match and set. His own arrogance supersedes the idea that Batman could be a genuine hero willing to take all the risk to save these people.

Riddler says to "get smart or die." Edward does not expect someone to do just that and more. For these the behaviors are more dorky vs the actual analysis but you get the point.

Bonus: we get the full picture that he constantly has a crown image above his screen in Gotham Square during Zero Year. Sir, Why Are You Like This? A lot of this comes down to: please give him attention he is so desperate for attention and probably physical affection. He's starving for it.

If you actually read through all of this, I'm love you and I hope you're having a fantastic day. Thank you for taking the time to listen to my rambling.

[lemonlightt]

qsmp hcs because i am so normal and not hyperfixated

(consisting of mariana, slimecicle, jaunaflipa, tilin, philza, chayanne, missa but i will add some of other streamers once i catch up on them & if i don't get flamed by the qsmp community. once qsmp expands more i may make another one of these (i will make another one of these in 2 weeks i have no thoughts but qsmphELPME!11!!1!!))

(i also have added some hcs i've seen on tumblr/twitter because they're all i can think about. btw looking for qsmp friends plsplspls i'm so lonely)

qcharlie is a demon and has absolutely no idea of it and progressively gains little demonic traits everytime he makes a deal

meanwhile qmariana is an angel and hold onto your seats guys this one is an absolute shocker! has absolutely no idea of it

everytime something awful happens to charlie (jauna dies, brutally scrambles tilin) his humansona becomes a little more unstable and he gets a little more sloshy - overtime he becomes straight up oobleck and gunks up the smp

qcharlie was raised in an environment that seemed like hell and it's responsible for the fact he doesn't really know how to be dad (his dad treated him like shit) and he's had no examples of healthy romantic relationships

qcharlie and qmariana are absolutely head over heels for eachother they're just losers and find it hard to express it adequately or meaningfully (this does not make them any less dysfunctional and annoying but they are my parental figures your honor)

qcharlie sews and knits and sewed a trans flag into each of their iconic clothing (qmariana's cape thingy, qcharlie's hearts and jauna's bows) he does the same for tilin as soon as he finds out they have the binary of none

qcharlie has been plotting qmariana's murder but qmariana is blind to it and all he cares about is hot steamy gay minecraft sex. they remind me of something but i can't put my finger on exactly what so if you can think of it tell me HJAHA

qcharlie would ADORE radiohead (specifically "nice dream" and "no surprises") (yes i am projecting, yes he is my favourite person and yes he is the only member to me i cant take it anymore)

jauna has golden highlights from her revival (think revivebur but stop thinking about revivebur)

jauna has vitiligo

jaunaflippa is allergic to dandelions but she will not hesitate to give them a blow and makes a little wish (usually about wanting her mom and dad to get along and be happy)

the jauna family get their glasses mixed up so they have to go through trial and error to find which prescription is theres (this takes 30 minutes because qcharlie and qmariana typically fight to the death over it/j)

when tilin died, jauna shared half of their bow with qquackity and keeps it tied neatly around her tail as a sentiment to her best friend but sometimes you'll catch her wearing it on one of her fingers. usually her pinkie (pinkie promise) or index finer

qcharlie and qmariana don't know how to braid in contrast to qwilbur who has spent hours experimenting with talullah to style her hair

qwilbur gives talullah a little walkman(?) thing for talullah to customise and records her cute little songs for her to listen to on the tapes when he's away from home

when qwilbur comes back from his travels, he will never ever fail to comes back with stories to tell, oneofakind gifts for talullah, songs for talullah to sing when she misses him, etc because that is simply how he loves

there is always music coming from talullah and qwilbur's home and it always brings joy to those who pass even if for just a moment

talullah has albinism

tallulah is disabled (canon examples: she has a different model to the rest of the eggs, she's clumsy and a little slow, her wings are underdeveloped) (she's basically just like me fr)

qmissa and qphilza are literally eldritch creatures. they look like the mothman fucker. they are a terrifying duo. here's a perfect example

qmissa is like 9'5 and qphilza is 5'2

qphil tells qmissa about his giant wife who is the god of death and is beautiful and qmissa doesn't believe his platonic husband could pull (spoiler alert he is proven wrong)

chayanne despises qwilbur because qmissa can play guitar better

chayanne dyes his hair pink to match techno and/or wears a little skull. techno is his hero and he is JUST like him frfr

speaking of which, when chayanne first killed a mob, qmissa helped turn it into a skull mask like his own and techno's. chayanne feels more confident wearing it and therefore never takes it off / alternatively qmissa made him a little mask from chayanne's eggshell

chayanne's favourite time of the day is when qphil tells him stories about techno

chayanne is nv like the rest of the eggs but is definitely more vocal than tilin for example (flaps his hands, exclaims excitedly, laughs a lot)

talullah and tilin are twins

tilin is part of the qquackity x qcharlie club upon finding out about the millions of failed attempts of qcharlie trying to flirt with qquackity

i dont think tilin hates qcharlie for what he did but i think they sure make his life a living hell/t

also tilin and jauna are in heaven with techno and they all bully trump. they make a circle around his cowering body and run around in circles while holding hands (this is a joke but not really)

general hcs that apply to all members/eggs:

there's few resources for clothing so the egg parents pass down their clothes to their eggs and the eggs mixnmatch it

the eggs use sign language to communicate as well as signs and doodles or use those little tablets with tts that nv people often use to communicate

extra: techno because he's my favourite character and isn't even in the smp!11!!11!1

techno is a sort of spirit and haunts his family, especially chayanne. he watches over all of the eggs. he hears all the little stories phil tells about him to his eggs. he'll hear chayanne say something he'd say and he goes YOOOOOOOOOOOOO excitedly and goes THATS MY BOY!!! uncle techno takes the eggs in when they get scrambled. when chayanne and talullah died techno gave them their lives back because it broke his heart to see them die just like that.

[aidaronan]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @wynnyfryd and @stevethehairington. Thank!!! 1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 131 (Jesus Christ)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,069,649

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently I write primarily Stranger Things with the occasion OFMD but I have written for Marvel (Stucky, Sambucky, Danbeau, gen), The Old Guard, and The Walking Dead. I tend to hyperfixate on a ship/fandom for a few years and then mostly move on when for whatever reason I no longer have interest.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Steddie completely overtook all my top fics, which is pretty wild. The top five are: The Prettiest Boy in Hawkins, Indiana Anywhere, Anytime Critical Hit It's Not a Big Deal I'd Burn the Castle for You

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Sometimes. I very much like to interact with fandom and fandom people. That's kind of the whole point. But I'm ultimately a person with a lot going on and treating comments like they're transactional (aka always owed a response) makes responding to comments feel like a job which is exhausting for me personally.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I mean, as much as I generally like a hopeful ending, there's a fair few. I mean, I was in The Walking Dead fandom where anyone can die so... lol But a recentish one I can remember is one I don't talk about much or promote really bc I don't like to think about it all that often. It's just Steve sneaking back into the Upside Down to bury Eddie. Nothing else, just closure. I wrote it when I was processing some feelings about losing my grandma's cat in a pretty traumatic way. I bottle fed him as a baby and always considered him kind of my cat too. Because of how and when it all happened, I had to take charge and bury him all alone, so I sort of used Steve to get some of it out.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Lol I tend to do Happy Endings so... God, hard to pick. I like the way I'd Burn the Castle for You ends because it's happy but it feels really grounded at the same time which I think makes it happier because it feels like they could actually have it. But when I think of the happiest, I might have to go back to Stucky and We didn't need this to love each other, but I'm glad we get to do it anyway which is a fic where Steve and Bucky never went to war, find a way to live a whole life together despite how hard it was to do so, and then get married when it's finally legal in NY. (Yes, I will keep using the characters getting married when it's finally legal trope because 1. I'm actually a sap, and 2. It's a good reminder that it's recent and hard-won.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes, not in a while

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Well. Hahahhahaha It can be anything from tender lovemaking to hardcore to hardcore with monsters and any mix or combo of those.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Crossovers in the sense of characters from different fandoms interacting? Not in a very long time, I don't think?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Stolen where they attempt to pass it off as theirs, I don't think so. I have, however, had quite a few rude little fuckers repost it on Wattpad lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A few of my Stucky fics were translated into Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No because I'm terrible at asking for people to work on stuff with me lol I am trying to get better at not thinking I'm annoying everyone all the time and actually talk about collabs and things. @sparklyslug and I are maybe going to do something if we can stop signing up for bangs lmao

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I can't answer this because the answer is always going to change based on whatever I'm into at the time lol

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I can't point to any specific one because I genuinely don't know which ones I will and won't finish. BUT I do know there's never any conceivable way I'll finish all of my WIPs because just for Stranger Things, I have like 59. Maybe I'll say the Paramedic fic because I sort of lost the will to work on it after I took it down. It didn't really feel like there was any interest.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. And fucknasty porn if we're being honest.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I sometimes feel like I really struggle writing any interpersonal relationships because I'm pretty bad at them irl. I know ADHD bleeds into my work and in every single character I write even if they don't intentionally have ADHD traits because I'll never ever actually understand the world from any other perspective. I also have to resist overexplaining shit even in my writing. I'm also bad at actually, you know, starting the task of writing sometimes lmaooo Plus just, like, me and my insecurities. Which is more of a personal weakness but it def affects how I interact with some of my own work/responses to it sometimes. Also see above and hate asking for "help" and being a "bother" and the fact that only like a few of my stories are beta'd lol

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't do it very often, esp in Steddie. But I've done it in the past (I mean, Bucky Barnes, so...) It's like anything else in writing. You do it when you have a reason to do it and you consider the why of it and how different readers might interact with it and how you WANT them to interact with it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

MCR and The Used bandfic back on motherfucking Quizilla

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Not to flex with the fact that I have 131 works on ao3 and that I've been writing on there for over 10 years, but there are so many things I love and love still--or even things I don't love still and would do a completely different way but love the memory of, or even just the accomplishment represented by that thing--that it'd be impossible to pick just one. But I'll talk about a few that come to mind - Fave Steddie is still Cut and Changed and Rearranged and my baby bisexual Steve learning he is loved

I love the work and historical research I put into The Second Labor, my alt version of the first Captain America movie where Steve joins the war effort in a different way.

And I also love my Cyberpunk Stucky, Empires Fall, but Not Us and think of it fondly.

Anyway thanks again for the tags Wynn and Mack 🥰! This was a nice little reflection moment lol Tagging @sparklyslug @greatunironic @banannabethchase @vecnuthy @starryeyedjanai

[mxtxnerd]

I am, of course, back in my twst hyperfixation. But I might also be sick(because my dumbass walked in the rain multiple times), so what do I do when I'm bored and sick and taking a bath? Try to figure out how far descended the twst housewardens are from their Disney villains.

What I am using for this to try and figure stuff out is the human-fae war referenced in the game. The war is also present in the live action maleficent (2014) and takes place roughly in the 14th century, which I'll just pick 1350 because it's a good halfway point. If the human-fae war was in 1350, what I've found is that the war was roughly 500 years before the game takes place, although I couldn't find anything on how long the war lasted I'll take a general length for wars (50 years) and we'll put it in 1400 for the ending.

Twst would take place in roughly 1950 — although considering it's fantasy, stuff has advanced much faster than in our world — and using that and the times where each movie took place I'll try to figure out how distant the relation is (or would be, for this post I'm using the headcanon that the housewardens are related to the villains).

For Alice in wonderland we don't have a canon year, but the date of publishing is what people commonly refer to as the year it takes place in, which does make sense. It was published in 1865. The queen is said to have 10 children — a full suit. Almost 100 years has passed since the book took place, and every 100 years is roughly 4 generations. So, it would mean that the Queen of Hearts is Riddles Great Grandmother.

Queen of hearts one of her 10 children → Riddles mother → Riddle Rosehearts.

We also don't know when the lion king took place (because people don't find it relevant to the plot), but looking at how it's drawn and reading one too many graphs and articles of how the savannah has changed over the years and human development has led me to believe it was around 7500 BCE, when humans first started to settle (closer to europe and the middle east), just to give reason for the lack of people in the films. I am counting all of the films I know of, including the second and live action. In one of the films Scar has a son, who mates with Simbas daughter, and they have a family and rule together. Meaning that Leona would be scars descendant and be in the direct royal family. From 7500 BCE to 1950 CE is about 9450 years, and with 4 generations every 100 years that would mean roughly 378 generations, or his great 376 grandfather.

Now we go with octevinelle! The little mermaid was set in the mid 1800's, so we'll generalize to 1850. Using the heartslabyul stuff from earlier we can say about 4 generations, making Ursula Azul's great grandmother.

For snow white I got '16th century' and also 'after 1550s', so I'll say 1560. If it took place in 1560 and twst is in 1950 that would be about 400 years or 16 generations from the evil queen to Vil. Although I don't know if the evil queen had any children of her own, so would Vil be related to snow white and Neige? A question for another post.

Now we have... Ignihyde!! The year I found for Hercules (my least favorite of the movies because of the inaccuracies) is 560-323 BCE, but as a greek mythology nerd I'm using the Heracles myth for this. Heracles (aka Hercules, but that's Roman) would've lived around the 13th century BCE, or 1300-1201 BCE. I will use 1250 to be in the middle. 1250 BCE to 1950 CE is about 3200 years, and with 4 generations every year it would come to about 128 generations between Idia and Hades, but with the Greek gods it could be that Hades is Idia's dad or grandfather or uncle or anything because they're whores /j.

Annnnd I don't want to do Diasomnia because of the weird Draconian lifespan thing, but I think it's canon that it's 3 generations? Idk, don't take my word for it.

You thought I forgot Scarabia, didn't you? Well I did.. at least I remembered before I posted! Aladdin is said to take place around the 15th century, or about 1450 (again to be in the middle). 1450 to — 1950 both CE — is about 500 years, or about 20 generations. But with Jafar turning into a jinn he likely isn't related to Jamil at all.

Thank you all for reading if you did her this far, I am about to fall asleep even though it is 3:40 pm.

Sources (stuff used to help me): a reddit discussion on the twst subreddit who's op is u/bow-to-the-king (used for stuff on the war timeline), Wikipedia, Disney wiki, the Alice in wonderland book, and this article on African wildlife.

[morgana-ren]

Gross boy incel Tomura is 🔥🔥

Oh God, you are so right.

No matter how old I get, how much time passes, whatever else have you, I am still utterly obsessed with that angry lil' freak of nature.

I love all of my hyperfixations, but Tomura was the true first. The one that sparked this whole shitty blog and my shitty writing and all of it. There's just something about him that gets me.

He's a fucking wreck. That's what it is.

He's a hate-filled, angry, vicious, snapping little mongrel. He curses the world around him to the point of aspiring to burn it down. He sits in a dark room all day, plotting and dreaming and escaping. The world looks at him with disgust and he looks back in equal measure, apathetic to the judgement he receives because the world is a filthy, wretched place and like a damn its judgement means fucking anything. He never learned to deal with his grievances and so they seep from him and infect everything he touches. Deep down, he is in excruciating pain and grief becomes anger becomes violence.

I think I could never truly leave Tomura because I get him. I understand it. I don't wanna change him and make him a fucking hero or clean him up or make him more palatable. I want him: The hateful, venom-spitting little arsonist who wants to watch it all burn. I wanna close the blackout curtains when the sun rises with him. I wanna sit in a wretched little room and eat dollar store ramen. I wanna spend too much time playing video games and talking about what we'd do if we had the power to enact actual change.

.......Or maybe I just wanna live on my knees for him and I don't have to make it all fuckin' deep and wannabe philosophical lmao. I love this little man so m u c h.

Been a while but I'm sure I've got some ideas tucked back and away somewhere for him lmao