#kinda lol its intentional anyway so !

[avenoirn]

the pirate king and his right hand man

[chloelouygo]

Ah yes, dying my hair 2 hours before I leave for work is definitely a good idea

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[francy-sketches]

ok I THINK that white banner is the stark one...stark bolton and tully next to eachother epic red wedding 5shadowing????

[boygirlctommy]

ok i have like. the very rough outline for this animatic.

[mykocalico]

another microscopic art dump... some mushroom freak and the second set of Attempts at the cat print thing; these turned out way better so i guess trying to keep your brush as dry as possible is the way to go lmao

[guideaus]

lichrally sooo fucked up higuruma hasnt shown back up in jjk at all besides these bits

[klavery]

today is the 4 year anniversary of my minecraft bedrock world :)

[chisatowo]

Ok nvm having Mizuki Thoughts

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[watermelonlovershigh]

i seen a trend online where the girl pretends to have a tampon stuck in her and asks her boyfriend if he's get it out. do you think you could write something like that with harry in it?

-🌼

TikTok Prank on Harry /blurb/

AN: i think that trend is very telling on what kind of partner these women have lol. love that trend but some of them i feel are staged. anyways i hope you enjoyed this and make sure to leave your feedback.

This story contains: mentions of a stuck tampon, mentions of blood, fluff, inuidos of sex at the end

{ husband!harry - softrry - no kids - current harry era }

word count: 662

You decide to do the viral tiktok trend on Harry where you tell him you got your tampon stuck and need his help removing it to see his reaction.

"Harry," you call from the bathroom, "can you come here for a second?" You'd seen this trend on TikTok where these women were pranking their boyfriends or husbands into thinking they got a tampon stuck inside of them to see if their partner would help them retrieve it or not. So of course you had to try this prank out on your husband.

A minute later the bathroom door creaks open and Harry asks, "Yeah?" once he steps fully inside. His view is of you wrapped in a towel, sitting on the closed toilet seat because you were about to take a shower. He thinks you look beautiful right now, but you'd be even more beautiful without that white fluffy towel you have wrapped around your torso.

Looking up innocently at your sweet, sweet husband, you fib, "So um, I kinda have a problem. You see, before my shower I was gonna remove my old tampon but I can't find it."

Harry looks at you with a confused expression. "What'd you mean you can't find it?"

Dragging the lie on, you continue, "The string, Harry. I went to pull it out but the string is gone. It must have went up too far inside me or something."

Now looking concerned, Harry starts, "So...." He's still slightly confused as to what you're needing him to do about your situation.

Huffing out of fake annoyance, you finally ask, "Can you help me? Like see if you can pull it out?" You're not gonna lie, you are kind of scared to know his reaction. He could be one of the sweet and generous partners you see in those videos where he's fully up for helping. Or he could be one of those partners who is disgusted by the idea of helping with that problem.

Without second thoughts, Harry steps closer to you and says, "Oh yeah, of course. Just gonna need you to tell me how far I need to reach my fingers up there." Okay, its confirmed. You did marry the perfect man. He begins to kneel in front of you and pulls his right sleeve up because he really thinks he's needing to help fish out your bloody tampon.

"Baby, baby, baby." you repeat over and over again, looking down with love in your eyes. You've got to stop the lie before it goes too far.

"What? M'gonna help you but you're gonna need to drop the towel and spread your legs." Though it sounds dirty out of context, you know Harry meant that with pure and innocent intent.

You reach forward and place your hands on his shoulders. "Baby, I was kidding. It was a prank. I don't actually have a tampon stuck inside me. I just wanted to tell you that to see if you'd actually help me if I really did have one stuck or not."

Relief washes over Harry's features because though he'd help you in a flash, he also wasn't excited about having to pull out your lost, bloody tampon. "Well of course I would've helped, love. How else would you've gotten it out, besides a trip to the doctors. I'd do anything for you."

You lean over and press a kiss to his lips which accidently makes your towel fall off your body. Harry grabs your hips to stabilize his squatting position and once the kiss turns into something more heated, you pull away and request, "Come get in the shower with me. I'm not actually on my period either."

Without much thinking, Harry quickly stands up and starts to shed his clothes off. He's never gonna pass up the offer of showering with his wife. "My love, I would have gotten in the shower with you even if you were on your period, you know." And when he's fully naked, you stand up from the toilet seat and walk hand in hand into the walk-in shower where your heated kisses continue and much, much more begins.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[zvmz]

okay angsty eah headcannon. so you know how the original fairytales are much darker than what we learn about through eah/disney?

For example; in the og cinderella, she sends birds to peck out her step sisters eyes. in og little mermaid, she fails to earn the princes love and turns into sea foam at the end, ect.

so i have a headcanon that there are multiple different ways the story book of legends will allow the story to go, that includes the original stories, as long as it sticks to the bare essentials. But the outcome is based on the characters personalities, ability, and choices. basically, if ashlynn was into the idea of punishing her step sisters with birds at the end of her story (not that she would ever do that), she could. if meeshell successfully, genuinely, woos her prince, she earns her happily ever after. if she is unsuccessful, she will be turned into sea foam. at the end of her story, Duchess can choose either to live the rest of her life as a swan, or to drown with siegfried. if the villians of the pinnochio story are especially cruel this generation, cedar could potentially be hanged.

Apples mom was 100% going to force the evil queen to dance in red-hot iron slippers till she drops dead, but wasnt able to because the evil queen broke away from the story. nobody knows that was her intention. meanwhile, apple would never in a million years choose that ending.

the reason not many have rebelled before raven is because, since grimm has been so strict on keeping to the exact same story, not many have diverged from it/chosen a different outcome in centuries. and if they did, its very much kept on the DL. so most of the students have no idea that their stories have the potential to be so much more dangerous than they think

sorry this is kinda messed up but i love adding mature themes to kids shows lol and if any students somehow find out about this, it adds much more reason for the kids to rebel.

idk if this makes sense!!! and im sure there are a bunch of plot holes there but im gonna post it anyway

[snapscube]

you don't have to publish this or whatever but I wanted to say, I'm right there with u on Projects That I Put On A Schedule And Then Couldn't Stick To That Schedule. it kinda sucks (especially, I imagine, if you have an audience asking about the things; being unknown has its pros and cons) but at the end of the day imo trying is the important thing and doing it infrequently is better than not at all. keep doing you and put out what you can and want, when you can and want, and people will enjoy it regardless of frequency or scheduling or whatever

hey i appreciate this a ton <3 admittedly i was very grumpy over the assumption that just because no shame was intended w/ asking me like that about projects i haven't updated in a while that it would mean no shame was caused LOL. it's actually, in a cruel twist of irony, something i have very specifically been insecure about over the past couple of days and i already wasn't having the best morning in general. whoops!

i think a lot of people assume by default i am a much more put-together person than i actually am just because i have some semblance of success haha. truth be told everything that i am able to put out is a god damn miracle in the sense that i am constantly fighting to do so against rampant fatigue and depression. i always always want to do more, and i have every intention to do so. i always assume i can if i just try hard enough since it seems easy enough for other folks, which is why i sometimes over-promise. but i'm still really trying to make things fit every day, and lately i have admittedly not had a lot of success. i have not given up yet tho! i think 2024 is gonna prove to be a year where i have to call on a bit of a hail mary approach because i KNOW there's a better way than what i've been doing. whether that's through a massive output change in terms of schedule, or whether that's a huge break, or whether it's sunsetting certain parts of my online output in the interest of focusing on things i'd rather be using that limited stamina for. feels like SOMETHING's gonna have to give.

anyway, i hope to never come across like i'm taking peoples patience for granted. it always legitimately sucks when people earnestly want to see something return, and i do too, but i have no better answer to where it is aside from just "i couldn't do it"

[joyaphoria]

HQ BOYS: MEETING A PRETTY FAN

☆ includes: hinata & sakusa (cus im lazy)

☆ a/n: jeez i haven’t written one of these in a while ... anyways, i'm kinda dumb i realized sakusa's isn't technically a fan and neither is hinatas lol

☆ HINATA like most, spent a lot of time training in the gym, spending a majority of his free time there. regardless of whatever time he decided it was time to go, there would still be a group of devoted fans waiting outside, desperate for a signature or even anything as simple as an acknowledgement. there were a lot more fans waiting outside that day, and he was immediately overcome by cheering and shoving the moment he stepped outside. as usual, he laughed and abided by the shouts, taking notebooks and papers and arms(?) to sign, pencils and markers alike shoved in his face, all of it apart of his routine. it isn’t until he finishes signing one paper and looks up per usual, does he take a second and pause. “could you write something encouraging, it’s for my little brother,” you explain as loudly as you can, as short and sweet as you can, what with the hungry fans bodying you so that they could have their turn next. hinata blinks quickly, yanking the paper back before you could get trampled, and scribbling his phone number right underneath his signature. “tell your little brother id love to give him that encouragement in person, in return for a date with his older sister.”

☆ SAKUSA only gets his coffee at one cafe, and its the small family owned one near his condo. not only is it thoroughly cleaned and maintained, but it’s mostly empty in the morning, allowing him to tune it down on the disguises for once. fans are never usually a problem around here, except for the ocasional every now and then. it’s why when sakusa notices someone walk up to his little table while he scrolls through his phone, that he puts his hand out and doesnt even bother looking up. once he hears a snicker he turns his head upwards sharply, making eye contact with whoever dared to not only interupt his time of peace, but to mock him afterwards. he doesn’t say anything though, not when his eyes catch yours and he forgets what he was going to say. “hate to wound your precious little ego, but i don’t want your autograph. our machine broke so you’re not getting your coffee.” you huff. sakusa stares intently, cocking his head to the side. this cafe was owned and run by family only, and he’s never seen you in all the months he’s been buying his coffee here. he does somewhat remember the lady telling him though, that she had two sons and a daughter, the sons employed here while the daughter had her own job and came occasionally to help. she made a teasing joke of setting them up, mentioning how beautiful her daughter was, and though she might’ve been right about that one, she never mentioned that the woman in question was such a bi- “staring at me is not going to fix the coffee machine. unless you’re going to fix it, leave.” sakusa scoffs and stands up. motioning to leave, he pauses and turning back. he knows how to do a lot more than it looks.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey dear! firstly i would like to wish you a happy new year(it's a bit late i think but it's the intention that counts) second i would like to know if i could get a imagine Daemon x poc!fem reader where all her family died and she is head of her home, but has a young niece (the only survivor, after her) and Daemon wants to marry her, but Reader tells him no, as she has responsibilities to her niece. So Daemon approaches his niece and ends up conquering the girl and they kind of become "accomplices" to convince reader to marry him. Just fluff, kinda funny and Daemon being good with kids and reader agreeing to marry him in the end and them being a happy family, please? (feel free to ignore)

Sticky Fingers

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The alliance made perfect sense, Daemon, a prince, brutal, lethal, and absolutely unstoppable, teaming up with your niece, barely seven, tiny, clumsy, and absolutely unstoppable, to get you and him together.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, daemon girl dad vibes, fluff, girlboss!niece, typos, etc.

A/N: lol happy new year nonnie HAHAH i say as i type this on 22 jan 23 HAHAAAHH lololol. anyway, i have not written anything fluffy for daemon in a while soOOOOOO i hope to change that just a bit. I didn't get to write everything in the req,anon but its pretty cutie i think hihi. ALSO TO THAT OTHER NONNIE WHO SENT ME THAT ASK ABOUT WRITING FLUFF YOU CAN COME OUT NOW I GOT TIRED AND DIDNT MAKE THIS ANGSTY AT ALL HAHHAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

Daemon felt it the moment he made it out that dull gathering. He had a tail, a shadow, someone lurking behind him. He looks over his shoulder slowly, bringing his hands behind his back as he strides down the hall, toward the garden. He hums as he softens the sound of his walking, now absolutely certain there was a quick patter of feet behind him.

He was, in fact, being followed.

The prince then rapidly turns around, a spit second confused when he was faced with no one, but then turns down when he hears the loud and airy gasp.

A child. He knits his brows, allowing his hands to fall to his side. A child has been following him. He pulls his head back. Did he look... amicable to this little creature?

He bends a bit, raising his chin inquisitively, "who are you?"

She catches her breath from the startling she got, hands on her chest. She takes a moment before responding, lips pouting, "Sonya."

Daemon raises a brow. A vague answer, yet fitting, he thinks, for a child as tiny as she. "Why are you following me, little Sonya?"

She drops her hands, releasing a sigh, "I am not little, my lord."

He straightens up at the sound of that, face barely contorting into amusement, "tis not 'my lord', it is 'my prince'."

She purses her lips, then curtsies, "my prince."

Daemon's nostrils flare as he chuckles. He tents his hands in front of him. He shifts on his leg, "answer my question, not little Sonya."

Sonya's face scrunches. Her brows furrow, "are you not the man who likes my lady-auntie?"

His ears perk at that. He purses his lips, "you're her niece?"

"Well obviously! I said she's my lady-auntie."

Daemon raises a brow, chuckling dryly, "that doesn't answer why you are following me, girl."

"Well," she brings her hands together, "out of all the lords that like her, you're the only one that gave her sweeties," she says innocently, "so I want you to marry her."

Daemon laughs, turning away from the little girl, shaking his head in fully amusement. He leans back down, hands going to his knees, "that is because I not a lord, but a prince, child," he raises a finger and taps her nose, "and you are quite easily swayed."

Sonya pulls her head back at the prince's sentiment. She rubs her nose, face scrunched all angrily. It was truly adorable. She asserts, "do not do that again."

He straightens himself up as he chuckles under his breath, thumbs hanging on his belt, "of course. Apologies. I would not dare do such indecency to a lady again."

Sonya nods, bringing her hands to her sides, "well, now that I told you this... can you walk me back? I don't know where I am."

The prince's lips pull into a smile. He extends his hand out, "of course, my lady."

She takes his hand easily and they begin to walk off.

"If you're the prince," Sonya starts, "then that means..." she gasps, turning up to him, "you have a dragon egg!"

Daemon laughs, clutching his belly as he did so. "Even better," he turns to her, "I have a full sized dragon."

The girl's jaw drops and widens impossibly.

"SONYA!" I gasp the moment I see the tiny silhouette from afar, running towards the girl, who quickly then runs up to me

I fall to my knees when I embrace her, "oh you foolish child! I nearly died trying to look for you!"

"Worry not-"

I look up, finding a smirking man with long silver-blonde hair.

"-she was following after a man of high regard."

I am aghast by the idea. I turn from him to Sonya, eyes widening, "you were following the prince?!"

I clutch my niece's soft, round cheeks as she mutters, "I told him I wanted him to marry you."

"What?!"

Daemon snorts then releases high pitched chuckles. I shoot him an annoyed look. How dare he corrupt my sweet niece with such ideas? I should have rejected his proposal more harshly.

"He's the only one that bought you sweeties, auntie!" Sonya calls.

"Sonya-"

"They were your favorite too!" she grabs my wrists, "the other lords bought you things you don't even care for. And! They were mean to me! He held my hand while we walked here, auntie."

I pull my head back at the words of the child. My eyes dart to the man, looking all smug behind Sonya, pretending that he wasn't listening in on the conversation, even though he was holding back a shit-eating grin, "did he?"

The girl readily agreed, nodding quickly. She proceeds to whisper, "and we talked about dragons!"

I grunt. He undoubtedly took the girl's fascination of the beasts to his advantage.

I release a breath as I get to my feet. I take Sonya's hand as I step towards the prince. Daemon faux looks at the sky.

"Your highness."

Daemon turns, lips curving into a smile, "oh, my ladies."

It takes great effort for me not to roll my eyes at him, "I believe a show of gratitude is in order," I purse my lips, "thank you for bringing my Sonya back."

He exaggeratedly sighs, trying to hold back his grin, "all in a day's work, my dear. After all," he peers down at Sonya, "the children are the future."

I cannot withhold the incredulous scoff that leaves my mouth.

The man does not mind, and even ignores it, opting to get on one knee before my niece, "now, little shadow, remember what I told you on the way here."

I turn to my niece, who readily nods her head at his words.

"Sonya?" I call in concern, "what did you two talk about?"

Sonya turns to me just before the prince presses a finger to his lips. She follows suit, "it's a secret I share with the prince."

I narrow my eyes, jaw slacking in disbelief. I dirtily eye the said prince as I lean towards the girl, "and I am your auntie. I do not want there to be secrets between us, darling."

"Shhh," she shakes her head and closes her eyes, shushing me like all the times I, and her mother used to, a habit we got from our mother, Sonya's maternal grandmother, "it'll be alright, auntie."

My face falls in concern. Daemon is unable to hold back his giggles. He turns away, pressing a hand on his lips to contain his amusement.

I shoot him a glare as he clears his throat. He turns to Sonya, "very well, my lady." He rises to his feet, placing his hands in front of him, "I will see you soon then."

The child turn to him in excitement as I look at him, appalled, "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I promised the child to introduce her to my dragon if she came back to me with high marks from her studies."

I scoff, teeth grinding, "you know well she does not study."

"Hmm," Daemon tilts his head at me, "would she not when she is under you care?"

I am taken aback by his sentiment.

He presses his lips as he slowly turns to Sonya. Daemon dramatically sighs, "ah, what are we to do? Unfortunately, it seems your auntie is not keen on allowing you meet Caraxes."

Uproar. Sonya bursts into loud emotions as she grabs into my skirt and whines, "Auntie! No! I must meet Caraxes! I must!"

"Sonya-"

"I promise to do all my studies, and all that you ask me to do like prince Daemon told me!"

I raise a brow. I take a moment to think, "anything, you say?"

Sonya readily shakes her head, "I promise to be a good girl. Just pleeeeaaaassse let me see his dragon!"

I turn to Daemon, who was already looking at me, absolutely pleased with himself, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side.

I blink slowly, releasing a sigh, "I will think about it."

Sonya squeals in excitement, releasing me in order to smother the prince's legs next. I am offended by how taken she was with him. I quip, "I said I'll think about it, child."

Daemon bends down, carrying the girl in his arms, releasing a happy sigh as he did so, "worry not, little shadow," he turns to me, "auntie will come around."

"My prince, why do you call me shadow. I'm not a shadow," Sonya pouts, grabbing his face, forcing him to turn to her, "I'm a girl."

Daemon's nostrils flare, "my apologies," he places his free hand onto his chest, "little girl."

"I'm not little!"

"Of course, of course, my mistake."