#ichor!sans

[spotaus]

Once upon a time I had an AU where Ichor ended up working with Nightmare, and I wanted to do some doodles for it!

I think that Nightmare only puts up w/ Ichor in this because Ichor still has his Godly powers, and being God of Punishment really helps pull in more negativity. Also, Ichor's more unhinged in this AU because his AU was destroyed. Here he really has it out for the "good guys" because they're trying to keep Balance. (In his AU, the God of Balance gave him so much grief and suffering.)

Also, he'd be unafraid to step between his co-workers disputes. Hense him scruffing Killer and holding back Dust in the second doodle.

If Night is Dadmare, Ichor is like a weird Uncle who's bumming on their couch and teaching them gambling games.

Also, shout-out to shadowed-hood and hat Dust designs, because I'm adopting that as a side-headcanon. It's really fun to draw!

[spotlightstudios]

Happy New Years folks!

I decided that for this year I'd just doodle until I couldn't anymore, and this resulted in a big ol pile of some of my favorite ocs that I've been drawing this year!

I plan to continue working on this during 2024, whether that be next week or over the next month idk, but I just enjoyed this a lot! Thanks to everyone who's been watching my grow since I joined Tumblr, and I wish everyone the best!

[ghoul--doodle]

RAHHH I love aus <3333

Me too!! They’re a lot of fun to think about I think

[alpheraetz]

Bite Me & Taste My Sweet Ichor

Freshly baked Dream & Nightmare centric fanfic, right out of the oven. I’ve been dying, gnawing at the bars of my enclosure, to f finally post this chapter. It took me more than half a year to get it done and post it. Anyway, I made art for this story.

CW: Eyes, lots of eyes, scary(???), slight spoiler (not really)

I ended up liking the lineart more, but the end result isnt bad either.

[darqx]

Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

[givemea-dam-break]

daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together. 

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers. 

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was. 

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet. 

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said. 

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest. 

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon’s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning. 

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his  mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said. 

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided. 

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest. 

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better. 

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.

[justarandomlambblog]

guess who got another story idea. thats right this rando

I'm thinking of an AU where Lamb and a companion/friend/sibling perhaps figure out why exactly the sheep are being hunted down and have a "fuck it if we're gonna die for something we MIGHT do let's die actually doing it" and spend years researching magic and breaking into the old Realm of Death's (Sleeping Hollow), and eventually figure out a way to bypass the Bishops' chains through ritual, a lot of very daring theft (needing ichor from all four bishops so legit just stealing their bloodied and ichor-stained bandages after they've been changed) and finding like 100 people willing to give some of their blood to make the strongest ritual a sheep working with fate can create

So imagine you're Narinder, The One Who Waits, just chillin in the After waiting for the Liberator with your two bored guardians, and then the ground around you just lights up. Aym and Baal panic and rush over and then they're all three pulled through the summoning circle, the chains crashing to the ground.... alongside the red crown :)

And then three cats, all average looking except for Nari's third eye, just tumble into the old Temple of Death and. Well. They have no clue who they are, where they are, or anything.

And then Lamb (sans the friend/sibling who will likely die giving the three cats and Lamb a chance to escape being chased) goes on a journey to fight the Bishops with three amnesiac cats on their side, and the Bishops absolutely freak when they see Narinder-

But Narinder has no idea who they are at all.

Meanwhile the red crown is still in the After....

[spotaus]

N and Ichor in the same environment once more. (They do not like eachother 👀)

N is my skele-sona, and she's pretty much just an omen of bad news in the multiverse. Whenever they show up, it's a sign that sonething's gonna happen (and N revels in the knowledge that their presence is a source of discomfort). In particular, she loves to trail Ichor around, since he's the Favorite of the multiverse. He hates the attention, because it usually up-ends his story. Also, N is annoying an antagonistic.

[spotlightstudios]

Shout-out to Ichor, the one dude I always draw when I'm sick frfr.

(And also, I'm very proud of myself. I've de-twinked him over the years ♡)

[spookitordukeit]

Augh. My fic concepts I posted a bit ago have been getting more attention lately, so mayhaps I will delve further…

I’ve already gone deeper into the Blue Joins The Bad San’s Gang idea, so next I think I’ll work on the anti-harem one >:3

Okay okay. Harper is our MC, and her sister is Kristen. They come from a very well off family, bulit off of high end jobs and generational wealth.

The parents are distant at best. Mother is a model and fashionista, and Father is the numbers guy everyone wants on their side. They all smile for the camera, but at home…

Kristen is the older sister and the apple of their parents eyes. The golden child. She and Harper look similar in appearance, some may even mistake the two as twins. They both have dark hair and bright eyes. They both have tanned and a rich, healthy flush that brings a warmth to their features.

And yet Kristen is the somehow always more wanted.

There’s nothing that Harper can see that would make her parents favor her sister over her, other then that Kristen is older. They get similar grades, receive similar awards. Get accepted into high prestige schools and make connections with people of similar standing.

They even share the same type of soul. And yet Kristen is always favored.

It leaves Harper to grow up angry and bitter. She’s not crass, no no. She wouldn’t purposely disappoint her parents. But she is snide and keeps a dark and curdling wickedness locked tight inside her. Something only Kristen brings out in her.

She is angry. Hurt. Shunned for no reason she can decipher. She’s quietly pessimistic and self sabotaging, she’s a confused, wounded animal who will flee at the first sign of rejection.

But Grandmother, her sweet, loving grandmother- she sees Harper. She knows her. She understands. She’s how Harper got diagnosed as a child, she helped Harper gain understanding on why she sometimes acted the way she did. Not that Harper knew what ‘autism’ meant at the time, but it was a relief for child-her to know that there was something different about her. It wasn’t just in her head.

Grandma is Harpers only friend for most of her life, as sad as it is to say. Harper spends her childhood and teen years running to Grandma’s with angry tears in her eyes. Face flushed bright red and blotchy. ‘Unbecoming’ Mother says.

Grandma never says anything like that. She just holds her tight and hums her old songs she likes to hum until Harper can speak again without her bones feeling ready to buzz out of her skin.

There’s no one to hold her tight and hum songs at Grandmas funeral.

It’s a long and aching affair that punches deep and bleeding holes into her already scarred soul. She grows even quieter, stewing in the black, broiling ichor that coats her thoughts every day.

She takes comfort in Grandmas house, left to Harper in her will. She doesn’t even care that Kristen moves in without so much of a hello, encouraged by their parents. It doesn’t matter.

She can keep Grandma close in the aged wood of the house. She can keep smelling traces of her perfum in odd corners, she can keep hearing her hum her old songs in the way the foundation settles. Harper can still keep Grandmas memory alive in her heart. And that’s all she cares about.

But living in the universal nexus, nothing stays simple for long.

Harper is in collage when the newest wave of verses appear from the mountains. It’s nothing new, verses pop up every few years or so, and either they stick around or go find a universe of their own to fill. It’s none of Harpers business what they do or where they stay.

… it’s none of Harpers business who Kristen befriends. It’s none of her business who she brings around in Grandm— Harpers, house.

Harper has her own friends that she brings around. It would be unfair of her. Nightbat and Metty are sweet. They care about her, they take care of her. They ask if she’s eaten and if she’s slept well. They hold her tight when she can’t speak, and they hum Grandmas old songs… her friendship with Nightbat and Metty is soft and gentle. It’s simple and unquestionable. Need a place to crash? Come stay with us. Hungry? Well me and Nighty made too much pizza last night, have some. Can’t sleep? Nighty’s real good at imbuing collars, and you know how strong his melatonin is. Can’t talk? Upset? Need a sec? Operation GH&H is a go!

It’s nice, and she wouldn’t trade them for anything. She’s… okay, with how life is. She doesn’t want anything to change. She can’t handle any more change.

… recently, Kristen has been bringing her new friends by. They look at everything in wonder, and Harper knows they must be the new arrivals. Blue is a loud and excitable fellow, eager to learn and conquer new ‘quests’.

Stretch is quieter, slouched in a way that Harper reads as purposeful. He talks slow and walks even slower. He looks calm, opting to hang back and observe his surroundings while his brother jumps from place to place.

She doesn’t quite know how, but her and Stretch end up talking. They watch each other, reading little movements and gestures, the things that go unspoken. It’s… new.

She isn’t sure if this is a good of bad new.

Kristen seems hellbent on bringing every skeleton Monster within a fifty mile radius into gran- Harper’s house. Harper hadn’t realized just how many verses had popped up this time. She counts five, if each set of brothers is from a different verse.

She isn’t sure why her older sister is dead set on befriending every one of them, or even how she found them all. She tries to keep her interactions with Kristen to a minimum. Harper has the whole of the attic to herself, Kristen can do whatever she wants down there as long as she doesn’t burn or break anything.

Things… get tense when Kristen gives her latest and most fantastical proposal. She’s always coming up with wild ideas, and sometimes they work. But lodging ten newly surfaced Monsters? Sure- they have the room, but…

But Blue is looking at her with stars in his sockets, and Stretch is trying (and failing) to not look as hopeful as she knows he is. Harper and him have talked, with all the new Monsters coming up at once, with five versus, finding homes, temporary or not has been difficult.

There’s an itch under her skin as she agrees, seeing Kristen look so pleased at having backed her into a corner makes her grit her teeth enough to ache as she excuses herself to take a walk.

There’s a parade of skeletons outside.

Harper gets into her car, fire ants crawling under her skin as she pulls up to Metty and Nightbat’s house. They don’t ask questions.

Harper doesn’t speak for the rest of the night.

It’s late so I’ll just leave this as is. Maybe I’ll expand more idk I’m eepy

[ahsilaffar]

An Oc I dreamt of! His name is Ichor! Sans

I polished up his design from my dream. He was also holding a floppy ahh sword😭

He protects the gods above

He sees all...

[freshiegayboi]

Valentine's Day Skele Event!

whether or not you have someone to spend the day with, Valentine's Day can still be fun!

@absurdmageart is doing an event over on their blog here, go take part while you can!! but I decided to copy them (/hj lol) and do a little event of my own!

rules below, I will be answering the asks on Valentine's Day!

The Rules:

There are a total of 24 skeletons you can pick from, being: - Papyrus (Undertale Papyrus) - Sans (Undertale Sans) - Edge (Underfell Papyrus) - Red (Underfell Sans) - Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) - Blue (Underswap Sans) - Slim (Swapfell Papyrus) - Razz (Swapfell Sans) - Honey (AngstSwap Papyrus) - Cash (KH Swapfell Papyrus) - Plum (KH Swapfell Sans) - Ichor (Horrortale Papyrus) - Butch (Horrortale Sans) - Mutt (Swapfell Red Papyrus) - Prince (Swapfell Red Sans) - Peach (Underlust Papyrus) - Lavender (Underlust Sans) - Cornfluff (Farmtale Papyrus) - Buckwheat (Farmtale Sans) - Pepper (GTale Papyrus) - Salt (GTale Sans) - Comet (Outertale Sans) - Caramel (Softswell Papyrus) - Portugal (Unnamed Verse Papyrus)

You may pick 2 total skeletons per ask! If you decide you want to see one that hasn't been picked yet, feel free to send in more than one ask! These aren't about questions, just some cute art for your day! (But if you want to ask the boys any questions, feel free!)

Have fun :D again, I will be answering all the asks on Wednesday!

[reilliane]

here's the angsty queue to be written!:

adamancy [anemo scenario], encore [au/series], fatalism [scaramouche/wanderer], ichor [mercy!sequel], eclipsing [dawning!sequel], clockwork* [cyno], radiance [aether]

fluffy queue after the bumload of angst:

perennial [tighnari], princely [various, scenario], lovesick [septem], short vigil drabble because i want to write nee-san mc and kazuha

[*] - tentative plot or character

[azzzhat]

NAMES GUIDE!!!

(because people are confused I am sorry for that 😭🙏)

Different universes have different themes for their names, listed below along with explanations in brackets for some of the names which might not be as self-explanatory as the others.

UNDERTALE - teas

Papyrus: Chai

Sans: Cile (short for Chamomile)

UNDERFELL - serpents

Papyrus: Mamba

Sans: Boa

UNDERSWAP - passerine birds

Papyrus: Orie (short for Oriole)

Sans: Blue (short for Bluejay)

SWAPFELL - toxic substances

Papyrus: Carbon (carbon monoxide poisoning)

Sans: Anthrax (deadly bacterial disease)/ Thall (short for Thallium, an extremely toxic element)

HORRORTALE - poisonous flowers

Papyrus: Kalmia (a genus of toxic shrubs, some known by the name lambkill)

Sans: Nerium (nerium oleander, an incredibly toxic plant)

UNDERPATCH/ECHOTALE/GASTERTALE/ WHATEVER YOU CALL THIS AU I CAN'T FIGURE IT OUT - magic colour/first letter of name

Papyrus: Ivy

Sans: Ichor (the blood of the gods in Greek mythology, believed to be golden in colour)

MIMICTALE - constellations

Papyrus: Orion

Sans: Gemini / Freki and Geri (the two wolves of Odin in Norse mythology, whose names mean either "the greedy one" or "the ravenous one")

[Freki and Geri are Sanses, but for now in the story, Freki is referred to as Sans because that's his name, and Geri is called Webster/Webs. Gemini is their collective name, so you don't have to say Freki & Geri or Sans & Webster all the time when you're talking about both of them]

Hope this helped!

[zorkaya-moved]

ON HIATUS UNTIL FEBRUARY 25TH. Last Inbox purge: 1/1/2024.

— 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍. a private and highly selective blog for an original character based on original lore 𝙕𝘼𝙍𝙄𝙉𝘼 𝙎𝙊𝙆𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙑𝘼. all verses and lore are written by renata (she/they/21+), no stealing and no inspired takes are allowed without explicit permission. this character is also written as oak casket from path to nowhere. beta editor only.

blogroll: @dorogavnikuda, @blckswntm, @fail2love

proshippers and proship supporters do not interact with me. minors/ageless blogs/personals do not interact with this blog or you will be blocked.

triggering contents may include: sexual themes, torture, human experimentation, alcohol consumption, religious annotations, gore, and more.

a in-depth study in: death and winter falling in love, how lullabies represent death's approach within winter lands, ichor bleeding in one's eyes, guns and knives as intimate affairs, cards played for the sake of endlessness in entertainment, preservation of humanity through polarizing methods of shackling and indulging, a fear of losing humanity to your beastly nature as an elemental, lament and languor waltzing inside one's mind, and the immortal tears of a lonely silver moon.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝𝐬 (𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬): wonderloste, etherealguard, londonfallen, thornicidxs, bitterseadrop, imarahuyo, dayrisen, avaere, hmrtia.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

links:    about.  /  rules.  /  memes.  /  starter calls.  /  open starters.  /  inbox calls. /  permanent interaction call.  /  plotting call.  /  interest checker.  /  pinterest board.  / thread tracker. / world lore documentation.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍:

granblue fantasy.  /  obey me. /  honkai impact 3rd.  /  magi (main + snb).

arknights.  /  haikyuu (+ any sports anime). / jujutsu kaisen.  /  tears of themis.

red vs. blue. /  osomatsu-san. / psycho pass. / genshin impact (main).

code vein.  /  khr (katekyo hitman reborn). / onmyoji. / touchstarved.

twisted wonderland. / ffxiv. / kuroshitsuji. / bungo stray dogs. / honkai star rail.

baldur's gate 3.

established in may 2020.

[carnifexa]

"unknown horrors will befall your father! the world you know will shatter at your feet!", bellows horinteus, the great horned monster, king of demons below and above.

thalia hums noncommittally as she checks fresh callouses on her palms. seems like even if you're immortal you can't escape them.

"behold me, for i am the death of olympus' king!"

jason barely looks up from polishing his knife. monsters love bellowing, this dull lot. "uh-huh."

"your father will die! immortal yet fallible, he will choke on his own ichor!"

"mmm, sounds nice, you do try that", drawls thalia.

"WHERE IS YOUR FEAR, YOU ZEUS BRATS?!"

"technically, i am no son of zeus, i am the son of jupiter"

"the second i became the hunteress i discarded my godly parent. you will have more success calling out my boss, or my hunt-loving half-sister"

"i will bring destruction to your father's life!"

"if you prove to be able to actually do harm to anyone sans yourself", chuckles jason, "then i might even give you a few pointers."

"if we get lucky we can even ask hera for tips", snorts thalia.

"...what?"

or basically the grace sibs acting nonchalant as another moster/divine being tries threatening their father as a way to rile them up. jokes on them, jason wrung the necks of fathers sacred eagles like a half-hour ago, while thalia was thrashing the sacred grove with lightning.