#kats works

[xspeter]

part of the ‘dancing with our hands tied’ collection

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇... You discover Luke does remember that night.

note: kind of a short one, sorry guys !!

W.C: 1.2k

You wanted to enjoy the party. Really, you did, but you were completely and utterly exhausted.

How could you not be? There’d been an accident in the strawberry fields that you still didn’t quite understand how it even occurred in the first place, so you’d been on your feet from sunrise to sunset taking care of everyone involved.

The only thing you wanted to do as soon as everything was said and done was go to your cabin and sleep, but you’d promised your older sister you’d be here. Apparently, she needed “emotional support” to talk to her crush, but from where you stand now you can see they look perfectly comfortable.

You sigh, taking another sip of your beer. You’d barely touched it, and some stupid part of you thought maybe it’d help you wake up. But, you were pretty sure it was doing just the opposite.

“You look happy.” Someone says in front of you, and you don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Ecstatic.”

Luke huffs out a laugh, right hand in his shorts pocket as he brings the other up to his mouth and sips on his beer. “I heard about what happened with the Demeter kids. Are they alright?”

You just shrug, back hunched over as you slump into yourself. “They’ll be fine. Just… I don’t understand how the Stymphalian Birds even got through the border.”

Luke takes a seat next to you on the log, knees cracking as he does. “Someone probably summoned them as a stupid prank. I wouldn’t think too much into it.”

You just sigh, turning your head so you’re facing him. “I know that. It’s just…” You trail off, unable to put your thoughts into words. It was just too much of a coincidence. The lighting bolt being stolen, a war potentially breaking out between the Gods, and now this?

Luke doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he just places his hand on your knee comfortingly, thumb beginning to rub random shapes into your skin. You relish in the feeling, his calloused hands are rough but oh so warm.

“Why don’t we go back to your cabin and get your mind off things?” Luke murmurs in your ear, but you grunt in protest. “Can’t,” You sigh, “I promised Alice I’d be her emotional support.”

Luke looks up, brown eyes searching for your sister. When he finds her, he can’t help but snort. He points to her, guiding your line of sight. “I think Alice is okay.”

And. Well. Yes. She looked like she was perfectly fine, laughing it up with the boy she liked. But you didn’t want to just leave without telling her.

You voiced that to Luke, who nodded and then got up without another word. You watched as he interrupted whatever conversation Alice was having and pointed to you. The three of them turned back and you attempted a wave, which Alice sheepishly returned.

You aren’t sure exactly what Luke said to her, but by the time he returns to you he grabs your hand and hauls you to your feet. You're so tired you feel as if you can barely stand, and you rely heavily on Luke to lead you back to your cabin.

It’s nearly empty when you reach it, save a few younger kids who are already passed out. You practically death drop onto your bed, legs hanging off of it and arms strewn above your head.

Luke chuckles, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kneels in front of you and begins untying the laces of your converse, pulling them off your socked feet and laying them gently next to your bed.

You barely even register it, eyes closed and breathing shallow. If Luke didn’t know any better, he’d think you were already asleep. But the slight smile on your face tells him you’re not.

But, he’d let you pretend.

He removes your makeup for you, gently rubbing at your face. You sigh happily as he does, and it’d be a lie if he said the sound doesn’t make his heart melt.

But, it was normal to feel that way about your best friend.

By the time he’s finished he kisses the top of your head and turns to leave, but you whine. “Luke,” You murmur, voice raspy. “Stay with me tonight? Please?”

Luke had never stayed the night in your cabin before this. You’d stayed the night in his a handful of times, but that was it. This felt like uncharted territory. Still, despite the slight tremble in his voice, he says, “‘Course, Sweetheart. Anything you want.”

You grin, scooting over and making room for him. He slips off his shoes, setting them besides yours in an act that feels entirely domestic.

He lays into the unfamiliarity of your bed. Your bed that smells of lemons and vanilla, just like you. That is still warm with your body heat. Your bed that is yours.

You let out a sigh of content, laying your head on his chest like you always do. Only this time, Luke only slightly wishes you weren’t, all too aware of the rapid beating of his own heart.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” You ask, gnawing on your bottom lip. You fully expect Luke to recall the first day you’d gone and changed his bandages, but he doesn’t.

“When you sang to me?”

You nearly shoot up at that, eyes wide. “You- You remember that?”

Luke laughs nervously, eyebrows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I? You saved my life.”

While that’s true, you’d completely suspected Luke would be in too much pain to even remember that. His mind would’ve blocked out the trauma. “I thought…”

Luke grins, “What? That I’d blocked it out?” That was exactly what you thought, yes.

“Well, I mean, yeah.”

Luke shakes his head, playing with your fingers that are spread out on his belly. “At first, I wished I had. I mean, who likes to remember themselves screaming bloody murder in front of their friends?” He attempts to joke, but you shoot him a warning look.

He takes the hint and averts his gaze from yours. He swallows, “But, uh, then I remember you singing and I thank The Gods for letting me remember.”

That statement makes you flush. He thanks The Gods for letting him remember what you're sure has to be one of the worst days of his life– because of you? Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, and you allow Luke to intertwine your fingers together and rest them against his stomach.

For some reason, you feel almost guilty. Guilty that Luke would thank such divine beings for you. “There are better things to thank The Gods for.” You murmur.

Luke's expression almost darkens, but he never tears his gaze from yours. “No,” He mutters, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips, “There aren’t.”

You aren’t sure how to take that statement, but Luke doesn’t give you any time to process anyway. Slowly, his grin returns to his face, and he whispers, “Let's go to bed, yeah?”

You swallow, nodding hesitantly and allowing him to lead your head to his chest. But, even as his fingers run through your hair and slowly lull you to sleep, you can’t get his words out of your head.

taglist: @apolloscastellan @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @sflame15-blog @cherr-y-eji @wen-oo

[blackkatmagic]

Sometimes it just hits me all over again how fucking insane Cody is. Like, Grievous is an enemy general who regularly kills Jedi, is armed with four (4!!!!!) lightsabers, and has in canon wiped out entire battalions full of clones when Jedi try to confront him. And Cody just. balls to the wall goes for it and full-on tackles the bastard. Dog-piles the guy who's killed more Jedi than probably any one single person. And he punches Grievous in his (metal!!!) face while he's at it.

And! His men follow his lead.

What the hell kind of charisma and pure brass balls do you have to have for that. Honestly.

[intotheelliwoods]

I have been meaning to do a crossover with the one and only @kathaynesart for such a long time! And the @tmntaucompetition has created the perfect excuse for this :)

I think Sprout and Omega would have a surprising amount in common, they have a lot they can talk about with one another!

Apologies for the cliffhanger- haha- whoops-

[alcorianight]

One thing I loved about Lockwood and Co. is just. The girls are pro brute force and the guys are all about proper technique. (Not all girls and not all guys but like, yeah).

Like it's Lockwood and Kipps that are finicky about proper stances and rapier technique (and iirc they both fenced (and Flo kicked their butts cause she's a legend)) and then there's Lucy and Kat who are just like "Look at that conveniently placed heavy object. Imma hit someone with that."

And it's great to me because I feel like in most works of fiction girls have to have exceptional technique and training to be on par with guys in fights, and then Stroud just flips the script. It's great. As a girl I appreciate other brute force girls.

[anthotneystark]

Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face

(Also on AO3 now!)

It doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

It’s a long time coming because it’s been coming his whole life. It’s been coming since the first time someone looked at him and said “it’s a good thing you’re pretty”. It’s been coming since the first time he heard someone say “beauty over brains”. It’s been coming since he was old enough to know that his dad was already planning on having to make connections to get him into a school of his choosing. He’s always known his book smarts were lacking, but it always hurt when he was reminded of it.

But it’s been more recent than that too.

It’s been coming since he felt that slick tail wrap around his neck. It’s been coming since Robin helped to change the bandages on his back. It’s been coming since the first date after everything ended with him going to bed alone because “I’m just not in the mood anymore” followed him pulling off his shirt.

It’s been coming since forever.

His looks have been his biggest asset his entire life, the only thing he could really use to get attention. And now there’s scratches in the paint.

After everything, when they’re finally safe, everything changes.

He doesn’t change, or he doesn’t think he does, because his habits are the same and his thoughts are the same and his nightmares are the same. But life slows down. And with it slowing down, he changes anyway.

Where once he was all lean, taut muscle, he softens. It’s still there, his daily runs and exercise are proof of that, but it’s a little more insulated.

(Robin tells him it’s because he’s been living with the stress of monsters for years, that feeling safe has pushed his body out of survival mode.)

It’s been coming though. With each comment from his mother about how he’s clearly eating too much junk food. With his father’s comments about how long his hair has gotten. With how girls’ eyes just skim right over him and move on.

It’s not all bad, of course. The kids, surprisingly, don’t comment beyond their usual teasing over things within his control – “stripes again? Don’t you have any other patterns?” or “why do you have to wear those shorts while you’re cleaning the pool?” which is usually followed by Eddie smacking whoever said it. Max makes exactly one comment, quietly, when it’s just the two of them still awake during a movie night.

“You’re a better pillow these days.”

Maybe it’s a joke, maybe she’s just being nicer with her teasing, but whatever her reasoning he likes it. When he thinks about it like that, being different doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

It doesn’t usually last long though.

So it’s not a sudden thing, until it is.

He’s not even totally sure what causes it. Some comment, sure, but the words themselves are in one ear and out the other. His parents are leaving for another trip, his mother comments about eating healthier while they’re gone, his father makes some dig that’ll lodge under his skin with all the other barbs he’s thrown at him for all these years.

All he really remembers is that a comment is made. The rush of heat and sour bile in his throat. The door shuts and all he can hear are overlapping echoes of all the comments that have ever been thrown at him. All he can feel is the tightness of the tee shirt he’s wearing the weight that no longer rests on his shoulders, but which is spread over his entire body. He finds himself looking into a mirror and suddenly cannot look at that any longer.

His hands shake and he doesn’t trust himself, but he knows where he can go.

It should scare him that he doesn’t remember the drive. It should scare him that he’s here but doesn’t fully know how he got here. But he doesn’t have room for more panic in his head. They’re past the point of knocking, of waiting to be let in, so pushing through the doorway of the trailer is a familiar motion. Eddie looking up and smiling where he’s strumming his guitar is a familiar sight.

The way his smile faulters and turns into a frown is less familiar.

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” He feels like he can’t breath, can’t possibly explain everything in his head, but he can’t just expect Eddie to read his mind. He’s not Robin after all.

“I need it gone. Off. I can’t…I can’t,” he manages, one shaking hand sliding into his hair and tugging, the pain grounding for just a moment. Eddie might not be able to read his mind, but he understands him these days more than most people. It’s an unlikely friendship founded in terror and fortified by countless hours in hospital rooms and new homes.

“Oh sweetheart. Are you sure?” He knows it’s extreme, but he can’t help what he needs, even if Eddie is concerned. He nods, swallowing hard. Eddie doesn’t try to talk him out of it, just pulls him to the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the tub.

“Lets start small, okay? And we can go as far as you need from there.” He wants to argue, but at the same time he knows it’s reasonable. And it’s Eddie. He trusts Eddie. He can’t make any words come out, but he manages a little nod. Eddie, doing what he does best, just starts talking. He’s not really paying attention to the words, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel the chill of the metal scissors, the soft rumble of Eddie’s voice, the too gentle fingers pushing and pulling him into whatever position is best. Eddie pauses now and again, a question in his eyes, but continues on when he sees whatever he’s looking for still lingering.

It's not until Steve feels his shoulders slumping, his hands loosening where they’re clenched at his knees, the chill of the breeze from the open window hitting skin that no longer feels boiling hot, that Eddie sets down the scissors. He feels lighter, doesn’t even care about the itchy feeling of stray hairs clinging to his clothes and skin.

When he finally looks in the mirror, his hair is shorter than it’s been in years. It’s not gone, not buzzed off, but it’s not the same as it was.

Neither is he though.

Eddie’s giving him a knowing look, one that says he’s got something to say but is holding off.

The cut itself is a little rough, but in a good way. It’s clearly not a professional sort of thing; he likes it more because of it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, exhaustion and relief hitting him in equal measures.

“You know, when I buzzed my hair, there were a lot of rumors,” Eddie says softly. “Stuff about my dad punishing me, about looking too girly before, that sort of thing. But really, it was just…so much going on all at once. My dad had just gotten arrested, mom took off, Uncle Wayne was stressed over having another mouth to feed. I felt like I couldn’t breath and just-” he makes a buzzing noise and mimes shaving through the mop of dark hair, which he’s got tied back today now that Steve can actually see it.

“Just had to get it off?” he asks.

“Yep. Needed it gone. Growing it back was a pain, but it was good too. Felt like a fresh start even if it was a little like trying to get back to where I used to be,” Eddie explains. It makes sense, at least to Steve. “So, you know, I get it. But I also know you’d have another breakdown if we shaved it all off completely,” he jokes. It’s enough to drag a laugh out of him.

It’s very Eddie, baring his soul while he’s helping to bandage a lost sheep, and Steve wishes he had the words to say how grateful he is. Instead, he just takes the towel Eddie throws at him and the soft, well worn clothes Eddie sets on the counter. He showers, pulls on a shirt for a band he doesn’t recognize, and breathes out a sigh of relief when the vice around his body finally, finally, comes loose.

Eddie doesn’t wait long once he sits down on the couch, immediately flopping back to use his thighs as a pillow while he goes back to strumming along to the music in his head. It’s a quiet moment, a safe moment. He doesn’t even notice as his head drops back to rest on the cushions, his breathing slowing as he finally feels light enough to rest.

Later, he’ll wake up with their positions reversed, with Eddie playing with his hair in a way that’ll make his brain turn into mush. Later, he’ll gather the courage to finally stop toeing that line of friendship and more that he and Eddie have been dancing on for so long now. Later, Eddie will hear everything that’s been in his head and will hold him down while he kisses every last insecurity and promises that it’s only made him more obsessed with him.

Maybe that won’t fix the insecurities, but that doesn’t mean Eddie isn’t going to make it very clear just how happy he is loving Steve exactly as he is at every point in time.

Because it doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

[gremlin-pattie]

the only gripe i have with the psych fandom is that a lot of y’all act like henry spencer is the devil. yes, he was weirdly obsessive about raising shawn to be a detective, and this led to some questionable-at-best parenting moments. but the man is not EVIL.

it has always been clear how much he loves shawn, and he seems to have been very present in his life as a kid. he did his best to raise shawn, mostly by *himself, and set him up for a stable future. he didn’t always go about that the best way, but he had good intentions and he loves his kid. and when shawn is an adult, henry really goes out of his way to help him with psych cases, even though this wasn’t the future henry had envisioned for him.

henry isn’t perfect, but would you really want him to be? i think that would make the show pretty boring. also, whose dad IS perfect?

*(shawn’s mom didn’t leave until he was a teenager, but from what we’ve seen it doesn’t seem like she was as present as his dad was even during his childhood. i have not completed the series, so correct me if i’m wrong on that)

[fakevalentine]

female reader x jinx

going off this prompt hehe

cw ; nsfw. strap-on. hair pulling. jinx being a brat. pretty boring tbh.

"f-fuck... i hate... hate you."

you roll your eyes at her comment, your grip on her hips tightening as you pull her back on your strap. she wraps around you perfectly, leaving the silicone soaked and dripping. "... doesn't look like it."

she lets out high pitched moans, her painted nails clawing at the bedsheets as she tries (and fails) to speak coherently. her goal was to make you more mad, see how much you could take— and boy, was she pushing your buttons real good today.

jinx was a brat, point blank. she loved causing trouble— not only for piltover and zaun, but for you too.

but luckily, her punishment from you was much more enjoyable than whatever they had planned for her up at topside.

"faster... faster— go harder." she babbles, clenching around you with a whine. her jaw had gone slack at this point, her brain fuzzy and drool dribbling from the corners of her open mouth. you really were fucking her stupid.

you grunt, slamming your hips against her ass and planting your hands on her lower back to keep her in place. she cries out, her feet kicking up behind you and either deliberately, or accidentally, whacking the back of your thighs.

either way, it pissed you off more than you already were.

you stand up straight, grabbing her long braids in each of your hands and tugging at them, forcing her head back. she yelps, her eyes rolling back at the mixture of pleasure from your cock and pain from her scalp.

you use the hold on her braids to fuck her harder, forcing her back into an arch. "f— oh—"

her tattooed body jolts with each trust of your hips, but kept in place by her braids. an array of sounds fall from her mouth, nails ripping into the bedsheets under her.

if you knew all it would take was a little hair pulling to shut her up, you would of had yourself a quieter life. but at least now you know. "where's my brat gone, huh?"

LOVE domming brats. LOVE it! ADORE it!

[aenslem]

Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001) || 1.03 "Parallax"

[k1tz]

Dance of the corpses.

(The og images under cut!)

Soooo here we go! My version of villain!green hehehoo. I would be livid if someone i trusted would do nothing if my big ass project went south. I imagine him having some gold piece like KO/MT. Hehehoho

[mayasdeluca]

[lesbiangiratina]

Im so enchanted by their cousin it swag. Cousin they. Or whatever

[xspeter]

꥟ luke castellan x f!reader

꥟ angst. based off of “a house in nebraska” by ethel cain. also kind of “loml” by taylor swift because that song plays a part in every piece of angst i write. :)

꥟ notes: idk guys i was feeling really sad for some reason so here’s this. i don’t love it but i was playing around with a different writing style and i really like it… let me know what yall think tho!!!! also the next installment in dancing with our hands tied is in the works as we speak

꥟ W.C: 2.1k

꥟ m.list

You’d met Luke on a muddy mattress on the floor in the middle of an abandoned house in Nebraska.

It’d been by complete coincidence. Two run away half-bloods seeking refuge anywhere they could, even if it was in a cold, dirty house.

“I didn’t know anyone was staying here.” A then fourteen-year-old Luke had mumbled, brown eyes darting across your body suspiciously. You swallowed, slowly standing and doing your best to discreetly wipe the leaves off of your shorts.

You’d studied him. Taking in the numerous cuts all over his body, all the way to his worn-down backpack filled to the brim, waying on down his shoulders. “Neither did I.”

Luke sniffed, but didn’t make any moves to leave. Neither did you. Instead, you just leaned against the wall, arms crossed over your chest.

“What are you running from?” You eventually drawled out. If the question surprised the boy, he didn’t show it. Instead, he slipped his backpack off and let it drop to the floor. “I don’t know.”

You snorted. How ridiculous was that? Running from something you weren’t even sure of.

Yet, you understood.

“What are you running from?”

The question doesn’t surprise you. Honestly, you were expecting it. You just shrugged, allowing your head to slump against the wall. “I don’t know.”

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was the God's doing—some cruel joke they used as a stress relief, or maybe it was just pure coincidence. But if there was one thing you knew, it was that meeting Luke Castellan had been the start of something you’d never be able to understand.

Something beautiful, pure, and just so right.

Something devastating, dirtied, and just so wrong.

“Guess we’re not so different then.”

You smirked, eyes filled with mirth. “I guess not.”

Luke studied you for a moment, searching for something you weren’t sure of. But, then he reached down and unzipped his bag, pulling out various items. A hoodie, some comic books, a dark blue water bottle, and then finally— a bag of white cheddar popcorn.

He popped open the bag, then stuck his dirtied hands into the bag and pulled a handful out. He tilted his head back and let them fall into his mouth, and then threw chews he said, “Want some?”

You pushed off the wall, stomach growling and desperate. “Hell yes.”

You and Luke spent three days inside that house. Just the two of you, with no Gods and no quests. No parents and no monsters. Just two kids, running from something they weren’t sure of.

And maybe that was how it was always supposed to be. Just you and Luke in that house in Nebraska. But, then Grover had found you and told you about the Gods and Camp Half-Blood. And devastatingly, you had chosen to leave.

—

At some point, you’d come to terms that Camp Half-Blood had been the thing you’d been looking for. Whether it was subconsciously or not, you’d always been meant to end up there.

And not just because of your Godly parents, but because it meant you’d be with Luke.

Luke, who’s become your best friend somewhere along the way. Luke, who’d seen you at your lowest and you his. Luke, who you’d somehow fallen in love with without ever meaning to.

Luke, who’d left you without a single word.

There were no words to explain the pain that constantly weighs down on your heart. The never ending nauseousness. Never ending tears. Never ending grief.

There was a hole in your heart, one that’d been so viciously ripped out without an apology and still dripped with blood.

“How could he do this?” You whimpered, knees pulled into your chest as you stared out at the lake, stars hanging in the sky like patterns.

Annabeth sighs, her braided hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite the darkness of the night, you can still see the heavy bags that hang under her eyes. “I don’t know.”

There’s no way to respond, not when your throat begins to ache and you can feel the familiar warble forming in your unspoken words. You look out at the water, and you remember your last conversation with him.

He’d looked the same, though you’re not sure why you expected him to look any different. You remember the smile on your face when he’d dragged you out here, how the darkness had made it feel like you were the only two left in the world.

Now, it just reminded you of how alone you were.

“Luke, why did you drag me out here?” You’d asked between giggles, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. You’d looked up at him as if he’d hung the stars over your head, and sometimes, you were sure you’d thought he had.

He’d just shrugged, leading you to the edge of the lake and grabbing your hand. The touch had been so familiar that it didn’t even phase you. He’d sat down, and you’d followed him without so much as a word.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” He asked, and you’d nodded. How could you ever forget that house in Nebraska?

“I could never forget.”

Luke smiled, looking out at the water with an indescribable look in his eyes. Maybe that’s when you should’ve known— when you couldn’t read him. You’d always been able to read him. But you’d stupidly chopped it up to you being tired and never thought anything of it. Maybe if you had, things could’ve been different.

“Do you ever miss it?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you shrugged. “Miss what?”

He sighs, leaning back on his hands and letting his head fall towards you. “When it was just us in that house and… we didn’t know about all of this? When we were just kids running from something that we had no idea even existed?”

The question had surprised you, but you did your best not to show it. Honestly, you didn’t ever really even think about that. You had everything you needed at Camp Half-Blood, why would you ever miss a place where you’d felt the most confused?

But, at the same time, the thought of it leaves an ache in your heart that you can’t quite understand. The place had been the beginning of something you’d never thought you’d deserved to have, it’d been where you'd met Luke.

Maybe you should miss it.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, yeah. But, I’ve never, like, lost sleep over it.”

Luke didn’t say anything. Didn’t even make a noise. He just stared out at the lake.

“Why are you asking?” You finally asked.

Luke sighed, shaking his head softly in a way that made him look older than he was. As if he’d seen things no one else had. “It’s just been on my mind lately.”

Your lips curled up into a small smile, and your hand found his in the grass, laying over it in a comforting manner. “Why?”

Luke looked at you like he wanted to say something. Like he had a million things on his chest that he desperately wanted to let spill out. “I’m not sure.”

You just hummed, thumb tracing shapes into the skin of his hand.

Luke leaned up suddenly, his brown eyes searching yours and smile lines prominent. “Let’s swear that one day we’ll live there. We’ll get real good jobs so we can fix it up and everything.”

You giggled, but not in a mocking way. More of a surprised way. “What about when we get married? Are we just gonna live there with our spouses?” You asked. You’d discovered long ago that you loved Luke in a different way than he loved you, and had come to terms with it. So asking questions like this didn’t hurt you as much anymore.

But, Luke just looked confused. His eyebrows furrowed and his head slightly tilted. “What do you mean?”

You picked at the stems of grass in the ground and shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “Well, I don’t think your future wife is really going to enjoy living in the same house as your best friend.”

Silence followed for a few moments before Luke laughed. Actually laughed.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulder and crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re such an ass.”

Luke took a moment to catch his breath, before finally, with red cheeks and slightly glassy eyes he said, “I’d always thought my future wife would be my best friend.”

At first, his statement hurts you. He’d always planned on replacing you? It leaves a sickening feeling in your stomach.

But then you look at him. Actually look at him. And you realize what he meant. “Oh.” You murmur.

Luke snorts, “Yeah. Oh.”

Your mouth goes dry, jaw dropping in shock. What were you supposed to say? Was Luke admitting feelings for you, or was this just a platonic thing?

Luke must’ve been able to read your thoughts, though you aren’t sure why you ever thought he couldn’t, and through a widening grin he says, “Don’t overthink it, okay? Just… let’s just be us for a second. Without The Gods and Chiron and camp. Just us. Like it was in Nebraska.”

You just nod, because what could you even say to that? And, besides, you’d take any moment alone with Luke that you could. Because you loved him, and maybe he loved you too.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, knees pushing into your chest as you looked out at the lake and stars.

Luke Castellan was your best friend. Luke Castellan was the love of your life. Luke Castellan was yours, and nothing would ever change that.

Until it did.

You wish you could remember that day better, but you can’t. It had seemed so mundane- a normalcy you had come to miss.

You and Luke, together like always. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover had returned from their quest, and you’d been so happy for them.

You think you remember Luke being happy too, but now… you weren’t sure.

You remember wandering around camp looking for him, and sometimes, you wish you’d never found him. Had never stumbled across it, had never been scarred with seeing the boy you loved like that.

Had never felt the gruesome hands of betrayal wrap around your throat.

“Luke, what are you doing?” You remember saying, watching as he pointed his sword at Percy like he was an enemy.

Luke had stiffened, that much you know. You think there was a flash of regret in his eyes, a flash of unsureness.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He’d said, eyes never looking away from Percy.

Percy, who looked so hurt and shocked.

“What are you doing?” You had cried again, taking a step closer. Finally, his gaze ripped away from Poseidon's son and to you, and sometimes in your nightmares, you can still feel the way it burned into you.

“Y/N, please, leave.”

His hands shook as he said it, but the sword never faltered from Percy’s neck.

You think it was here that you realized something bad was happening. That this wasn’t some sick joke. This was real. Luke was really doing this.

You remember the tears more than anything. The hot, fat tears that ran down your cheeks like a never ending storm.

But, Luke’s face morphed into something you’d never seen. He looked angry— no, he looked furious. At what you’d never know, but he turned to Percy again and said, “Last chance.”

But Percy turned down whatever it was he was asking of him again, and then Luke glanced at you for the last time.

His brown eyes, once filled with love, were now empty. Dull. Something you had never seen in him before.

And he didn’t say anything when he left. He just did. Running away from Percy, from camp, from you.

From that house.

You don’t remember screaming, you just know that you had. You’d felt the rawness in your voice the day after.

And even now, after a week, you sit out at the lake with Annabeth and wonder why. Why did he do it? What could’ve been more important than the future he’d planned with you days before?

“Annabeth?” You murmur, eyes searching hers.

She just hums, and it’s then that you understand. Why he had reminded you of the house, why he’d planted the dream of living in it in your head.

“Do you think when all of this is over you’d want to live in Nebraska with me?”

[randomthunk]

Oxventure Wyrdwood drops tomorrow, and of all the characters, I got an idea to draw Happen first. I've been binge-reading Witch Watch the past few weeks and just on the visual level, an idea came about. I really just wanted to draw that hand.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

was looking into maybe submitting a late submission for the jealousy prompt for levi month and levi giving you this expression before going down on you is the only thing i can think about rn 😔

[parappaadventure2q-a]

[rayman-raymania]

Does Remy know how old he is?

…no