#Black Hole / Green Sun

[hermit-frog]

for me personally‚ the flashlight in the museum (that Armand had stolen from the guard) represented her hope/dream (to be seen, to belong, to find home)‚ happiness (Madeleine)‚ and Claudia herself.

[lime-bloods]

so long as I've been talking gravity, it feels like I'm obviously missing something by not talking about the Green Sun, which formed the gravitational center of Homestuck's cosmos long before black holes became part of the equation. it's emblematic of Lord English, obviously, the villain who keeps our heroes gravitationally bound to their homes, but that felt too simplistic... I think I've hit on something more solid, though.

Cascade, part 6.

in the sense that the Green Sun - being composed of the rendered-down remains of both of Homestuck's universes - is a very literal representation of the comic's incestuous slurry of ideas, Dave and Rose emerging from the Sun's radioactive green sludge very much reads as their being reconstituted from ectoplasm. indeed: Hussie suggested years ago that to "die spectacularly in an explosion of green fire" is actually a requirement for reaching the god tiers without a dream self, and while this doesn't turn out to be exactly true, the central premise remains; the old self must be immolated completely to make way for the new self. in this exact same way, trolls find themselves gravitating toward the cocoons they were born from and are completely destroyed via explosion in the process of ascension - for Dave and Rose, the Green Sun is the figurative birth-cocoon they return to in order to be broken down into slime and built back up again.

(so it's interesting, at the very least, that the very same black hole that usurped the Green Sun's position as the center of reality is now the cocoon Vriska Serket finds herself trapped within - complete with lain-thick imagery of fire and death!)

p. 2728

compare as well the Matriorb and Tumor, obvious visual twins which also serve the same purpose as malignant growths which must kill their previous host so as to give rise to a new brood. for Rose, in particular, the gravity that keeps the suburban family unit together - the Green Sun's gravity - is also the gravity that pulls her toward the familial role Sburb has lined up for her, that of the mother. and the icons of the Green Sun hidden, womb-like, within the guts of Rose's planet tell us everything we need to know about the role the Green Sun is supposed to play in this motherhood destiny.

(from Hussie's commentary in Book 5, p. 271: "This is another one of those things that makes it feel like this quest is narratively what is demanded of her [...] it's supposed to feel that way to her, and has a strange sense of obligatory gravity surrounding it.")

Scratch's deception regarding the Green Sun then takes on a characteristically insidious subtext: he's tricking Rose into giving birth. and not just to the Green Sun, or to Lord English, but - in the characteristically incestuous, cyclical nature of things in Homestuck - to her own ascended self! and as such, in the inverse: when Rose flies out to the Furthest Ring believing that she's about to defy the role Sburb has laid out for her by aborting the Tumor, she's also unknowingly setting out to abort herself - a "suicide mission" in more ways than just one.

[homestuck-music-tournament]

Black Hole / Green Sun

Album: Homestuck Vol. 8 Composer: Malcolm Brown and Toby Fox Leitmotifs: Black Rose / Green Sun, Sburban Jungle Characters: Green Sun, Rose Lalonde, Dave Strider, Peregrine Mendicant, Bec Noir, Serenity, Wayward Vagabond, Jade Harley, June Egbert, Skaia, LoWaS, LoLaR, LoHaC, LoFaF, Aradia Megido, Sollux Captor, Terezi Pyrope, Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam, Gamzee Makara

Note that this track is not the one used in [S] Cascade, although it is sampled.

[chaoticsorceressztc]

If only Terezi had also went into the Green Sun's black hole when the dead Jade went in.

All Terezi's current problems would have been solved.

John's dead/dying body? Well Vriska's apparently trying to make another Sburb session happen there I think, so that could be solved with a sprite prototyping. (Same thing Terezi is planning to do currently)

Finding Vriska? Vriska's at work. Oh really, where does she work? In the hole. *BWAAAAAAHH*

Dealing with Dirk's idiot plan and control-freak-ness? Don't have to in the Green sun black hole.

Dealing with emotionally numb Rose? There's not one in the Green sun black hole, there is one with family problems but that's better than no emotions at all I think.

Thank you for coming to my Homestuck beyond canon Ted talk

[lyricpersonarts]

I finished (gouache) painting my drawing album cover ;D

(alright its a lil wonky but hey nothing's perfect)

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Matter and energy, like the sun, cause space (and spacetime*) to warp and curve as illustrated in Figures 3.10a and 3.10b.

* It's easier to picture warped space, but because of their intimate connection, time is also warped by matter and energy. And just as a warp in space means that space is stretched or compressed, as in Figure 3.10, a warp in time means that time is stretched or compressed. That is, clocks experiencing different gravitational pulls – like one on the sun and another in deep, empty space – tick off time at different rates. In fact, it turns out that the warping of space caused by ordinary bodies like the earth and sun (as opposed to black holes) is far less pronounced than the warping they inflict on time.

"The Fabric of the Cosmos" - Brian Greene

[perishrad]

there was a challenge on twitter going on. of course, i accepted it immediately! a full canvas:

[lamiaoflilith]

finally… after 7 years… i’ve finished homestuck. somehow i am still confused.

[guitarbomb]

Guild Polara range expands for the cult classic in 2024

Guild updates to its Polara range, including a sleek Vintage White version of Kim Thayil’s iconic signature model. This refresh is part of a broader roll-out of new finishes and specifications across the 2024 Night Edition, Deluxe, and Standard models, all available for under $1,000. Guild Polara At NAMM 2024, Guild spotlights the Polara, an electric guitar model revered by many, including the…

[roedoefriend]

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Kidnapping, Drugging

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yandere!Alhaitham x Reader, but Reader had a former crush on Alhaitham in their Akademiya years.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It's just a meeting. That's what you tell yourself, at least. Just a meeting between colleagues; just a meeting between what never was and what could have been; just a meeting between the sun and the moon, the sea and the stars.

That's all it is, but there's still a small, painful part of you that can't seem to stop ruminating on what might happen in the next hour. The still-searing brand of love that had been etched on your heart still aches. You hoped that this meeting would lay it to rest.

Knocking on the plain wooden door, his muffled voice responds a second later.

"Come in."

With one final moment to collect yourself, you push open the door. His office is unsurprisingly, very plain and orderly. There's a shelf of books behind him, a few manila files on his desk as well as a hefty stack of paperwork. Glancing over your shoulder, you spy a small ceramic pot resting on the windowsill, a single Sumeru Rose planted inside.

Its flourishing beauty makes you wilt. Years ago, when you were soon to embark to Fontaine to conduct some field research for your thesis, you had confessed to Alhaitham with a Sumeru Rose.

"Are you alright?" Alhaitham's voice snaps you back to the present.

You nod, shuffling over to the chair, its wooden legs scraping across the floor. You're so close to Alhaitham now, that you can see a stray hair on his shoulder. The sight of it makes you wonder what would happen if you were to pluck it off.

No, you remind yourself. You're not in love with him anymore, and he never loved you anyways.

If Alhaitham notices that your eyes are searing a hole into his shoulder, he doesn't say anything. "I'm assuming you understand why I asked to see you, correct?"

"The position of Acting Sage of Rtawahist, correct?"

The room feels humid, likely due to both your anxiety and the warm weather. Looking around, you notice two glasses and a pitcher of water resting off to the side of the desk. As Alhaitham lectures about the position, you reach for the pitcher and fill up a glass of water.

"...position will likely not be necessary after around two weeks," Alhaitham finishes, eyes still boring into yours. You take a sip of water.

It's bitter.

You can't help but furrow your eyebrows. Alhaitham picks up on your expression quickly. "The Akademiya has been testing out new water filtration methods. It produces cleaner water, though some say that it may taste slightly strange," he explains.

The two of you launch back into discussing the details of your new position, but as time begins to pass, you feel off. Not just the kind of off where you need a break, but the kind of off where you feel like you're about to pass out.

"A-ah...haitham," you slur. You don't feel any pain, just tingles running through your veins, spreading throughout your body before rendering your muscles limp.

The man stands up calmly and walks around the desk, supporting your shoulders. "You're okay, just breathe."

You try to, but find yourself unable to do anything.

Everything is blanketed in blackness soon after.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You wake up to the morning sun's long, lovely fingers caressing the curve of your jaw, as well as the sweet hymns of birds and the breeze echoing through trees. It's almost picturesque, really.

Everything feels so right, that for a moment, you're prepared to close your eyes and go back to bed. But then you notice the walls are a lighter green than your bedroom, the sheets you're curled up in are not your own, and the furniture arrangement is completely different from that of your home's.

Oh, and then there's the person sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the room, staring at you unblinkingly.

It takes a moment for you to realize that the figure is Alhaitham, whose analytical eyes are reading you like you're a textbook on some convoluted subject only smart alecks like him would bother to study.

The look in his eyes almost scares you for a moment. You try to move your arms to push yourself up, but find that your wrists have been bound together.

"Alhaitham, what are you doing?"

The man takes a moment to stand and walk towards your bedside, gaze focused and unreadable. "I'm correcting a grave mistake," he says, a hand reaching out to clasp yours, gently stroking your palm with his thumb. "I was foolish to reject your love, but now I understand. I want you."

His words nearly make you pass out again. "That's not how it works, Alhaitham," you protest, "I don't...I don't love you any-"

"Why did you hesitate?"

"Because I just woke up. I'm not exactly thinking straight."

"Or maybe it's because you know you're lying." Alhaitham's words are tinged with condescension, his stare cold and unyielding. "Given enough time, you'll learn to love me again," he says. His hand leaves yours and moves up to your face, brushing up against your jaw. His touch should be warm, but you only feel cold.

You glare. "I doubt it."

For a moment, the corners of Alhaitham's lips quirk up in a semi-smile. It amuses him that you think you have a choice—a chance, really. After all, nothing's coming to save you.

He's got all the time in the world to make you fall in love with him.

[maxbegone]

70s version

80s version

[the-californicationist]

The Powder Keg

John Price has just spent the whole afternoon teaching his new recruit how to shoot, and after pining for her all day, he’s about ready to burst, just like a powder keg…

Hot, steaming water sprayed out of the shower head and soaked his burnt, pink skin. When he took in a deep breath, it was humid and heavy, filling his lungs with more moisture than air, leaving him panting and weak from the heat of it. But, he let it suffocate him. He allowed it to obfuscate his senses, to coat his mouth like a gag, to stop him from calling out for her. John Price was so damn close to forgetting himself. He pulled his imaginary muzzle tighter, just in case.

He’d spent the better part of the day in the frigid sands in some Urzikstani Green zone, teaching his new sergeant to shoot his M-16. She was a good marksman, but she was unfamiliar with the desert’s unforgiving winds, and she needed to see how he had set his sights. It shouldn’t have taken so long for him to help her, and if he was before Peter at those gates of pearl and splendor, forced to tell the truth, he had chosen to keep her there. He’d been selfish, preferring to watch her laying there, prone and panting, firing bullet after bullet, all to please her captain. It was the betrayal of the sun that had ruined his gluttony. It had set behind the dunes, forcing John to come indoors and try to wash off all of his sin. 

Price had been hard all day. Seeing her plump arse in those canvas pants, looking down at her, concentrating and vulnerable in the sand… it was enough to drive him wild. Now, here he was, gripping his heavy rod like a teenager, squeezing himself tight enough to see stars. 

The soap and the suds had all washed away, but the billowing steam had remained. He felt each scalding droplet stinging against his sun-ravaged skin, and he used it like a million little flogs, punishing himself for his thoughts of her. She, in the inky blackness of his mind, had been… everywhere. She was stripping for him, peeling away each article of clothing, each layer of her uniform with calculated effort, revealing herself to him bit by bit. He was watching as her fingers dug into the band of her pants, sliding them down her thick thighs, showing off her tattooed skin, uncovering scars like tiny secrets. Secrets only he could know. 

She was grabbing his cock. It was her hand tugging him hard, not his. Her palm slipping over his rosy head, her fingers slipping his foreskin down his shaft, her mouth…

“Unghh…” John leaned against the cold tile, trying to calm himself down. His forehead dug into the white ceramic, rolling across it, trying to find some relief to his torment.

He knew her mouth would feel so sweet. She would plant a delicate little kiss on the top of it, wouldn’t she? She was so kind. She would be so kind to him. An old dog who didn’t deserve it. Not one lick. And yet, she would lick him. Her tongue would lap around his thick base, purring at his size, gassing him up, pumping his ego. Maybe it would be the truth. Either way, he’d buy it; hook, line, and sinker. 

“Baby, baby, baby…” He’d name her. She’d be his. His woman. His everything. She’d steal his breath like this impenetrable steam.

The tip of her tongue would find that ridge, the one tucked under his head, the one just below his hole, and she’d suckle at it, just as if she was pulling venom from a snake bite, like his life depended on it. And maybe it did. 

Maybe she would be willing to sit across his lips, giving herself to him like a feast to a starving man. She would taste like nectar, and it would coat his tongue, sticky and cloying, painting his palate and filling his nose. He would learn her scent, burying himself into it, finding himself within her taste and her warmth. 

Then, mercifully, perhaps she would take him inside of her, deep into her body. He would sink into her, down into her depths. Engulfed. Surrounded. At her mercy. Perhaps she would use those soft muscles to hold him in, to clutch at him like a hungry, suckling mouth. 

His hand tightened around his head and the rhythmic milking noises of his self-made pleasure filled the tiny shower like a perpetual echo. He began to fuck his grip, rutting wildly into his palm, coating his callused skin in precome. He was dripping from the shower, but nothing was slipperier than his wet pleasure. It made his cock slide even faster through his huge hand, helping his head burrow itself into his fingers. 

John wanted it to be real. He dreamt, with his eyes squeezed shut, of the way her legs would part for him, spread like the petals of a flower, soft and pliant like a little, pink rose. As he jerked his hand across his pulsing head, he imagined what it would be like to rub himself amongst her delicate folds. He almost came from the thought, shuddering, catching himself against the wall, whimpering like he was pressing into a bruise. 

A little faster. A little more friction. He grunted, unable to hold his voice inside of him, desperate and feral. 

Her eyes, gleaming and beautiful, looking up at him, calling his name. 

And that was enough to do it. He came, crying out for her…

“Oh, fuck… baby…” 

“Captain?”

His blood went cold, and when he heard her voice, he froze, letting his come leak out of his balls, coating his hands and flooding over his knuckles. 

The curtain hissed as she pulled it away from the wall, her eyes traveling all over his body, appraising him and approving. She smiled, a little coy,

“Got room for one more?”

[mindless-existence1]

HIHIHI Could you write a Shadow x reader (romantic)who loves space and tells him all about like where which constellation n allat?

Authors note: So I don't know anything about stars so I asked my friend who does and he told me about these so if they are wrong blame him. Also thanks for sending the request!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night sky above Green Hills stretched endlessly, the stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across a sea of black velvet.

Shadow stood silently at the crest of a hill just outside of town, his crimson eyes fixed on the expanse above. Beside him, you were bouncing with excitement, the cold air forgotten as you pointed upward.

“You can see so much more out here,” you marveled, scanning the heavens. “No light pollution to ruin the view.”

Shadow glanced at you, his expression neutral, though a faint softness lingered in his gaze. “That’s why I brought you here. You mentioned wanting a better look.

Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. Despite his gruff demeanor, Shadow always had a way of making you feel seen and appreciated. You plopped onto the soft grass and patted the spot next to you.

“Come on, sit with me. You can’t just stand there brooding all night.” With a quiet huff, Shadow lowered himself beside you, his movements deliberate and measured.

He rested his arms on his knees, his attention split between you and the stars.“Okay,” you began, pointing to the sky.

“That’s Orion’s Belt right there—see the three stars in a row? And over there is Taurus, the bull. You can tell by the V-shape of its horns.” Shadow followed your gestures, his eyes narrowing slightly as he traced the patterns you described.

“You know a lot about this,” he remarked, his tone calm but intrigued. “Oh, you haven’t even heard the half of it,” you replied, grinning.

“Space is fascinating. Did you know that Betelgeuse, one of the stars in Orion, is a red supergiant? It’s so big that if it replaced our sun, it would extend past Jupiter!”

Shadow tilted his head, his lips quirking in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. “I see why you find it interesting,” he said. “It’s… vast.”

You nodded enthusiastically, launching into an explanation about black holes and neutron stars, your voice animated as you shared fact after fact.

Shadow listened intently, his silence encouraging you to keep going. At one point, you paused, glancing over at him.

“Am I talking too much?” Shadow shook his head. “No. I prefer this to silence.”His answer warmed you, and you turned your attention back to the sky.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “the universe is so big and full of mysteries. It makes you feel small, but in a good way. Like, even the worst day doesn’t matter on a cosmic scale.”

Shadow considered this, his gaze drifting upward. “Maybe that’s why I’ve always liked the stars,” he admitted softly.

“They’re constant. Unchanging.” You smiled, leaning your shoulder against his. “And beautiful. Like you, when you’re not scowling.”

He gave you a sideways glance, the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I don’t scowl that much,” he muttered.

You giggled, reaching out to lightly squeeze his hand. “Thanks for bringing me here, Shadow. It means a lot.”

He hesitated for a moment before entwining his fingers with yours. “You’re welcome,” he said simply, his voice low but sincere.

For the rest of the night, you continued pointing out constellations and sharing everything you knew about the cosmos, while Shadow sat quietly, content just to be by your side.

[sayoneee]

☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual. 

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song. 

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night. 

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you. 

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.  

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin. 

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin. 

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge. 

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness. 

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship. 

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange. 

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things. 

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you. 

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red. 

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[darlinluxx]

𝐉𝐄𝐉𝐔 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : mention of death

a/n : takes place after the games and she won them (ofc) bc she deserved to go to jeju island :((

summary : you and your girlfriend go on a vacation to jeju island after she won the games

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he salt spray kissed Saebyeok’s face, a stark constraint to the grime of Seoul she’d left behind. the ferry chugged towards Jeju Island, a green hump on the horizon, and she found her fingers interlaced with yours. after everything — after the games, the death, the money, the nightmares — she still found herself clinging to the tangible, the real. and you were as real as it got.

“you okay?” your voice was soft, a balm to the lingering tension Saebyeok still carried. your hand squeezed hers gently, your thumb tracing circles on Saebyeok’s skin.

Saebyeok nodded, her gaze fixed on the churning water. “just trying to relax.” the words felt foreign on her tongue. relaxing was a luxury she’d never been afforded.

the money had been life-altering, yes. it had moved her brother to a nicer foster home, secured the apartment she dreamt of. but it hadn’t erased the ghosts of the rooms, the faces of those she’d lost. it just meant she could afford to take her and you to Jeju Island for a long overdue break.

you, ever preceptive, didn’t push. you knew Saebyeok’s silence better than anyone. instead, you just leaned your head on Saebyeok’s shoulder, the warmth of her body a comforting presence.

Jeju Island was a sensory overload. the air, thick with the scent of sea and volcanic rock, was cleaner, lighter than Seoul’s concrete jungle. the vibrant green of the canopies clashed beautifully with the deep blue of the ocean. you two rented a small cottage overlooking the coast, far from the tourist traps.

the first few days were spent exploring. the two of you hiked along jagged coastlines, the wind whipping through your hair, and dipped your toes in the cool, clear waters of hidden beaches. Saebyeok, usually reserved and quiet, surprised herself by laughing freely as you chased her with a sand-covered crab. she learned to identify different types of seaweed and collected smooth, black volcanic stones, feeling the weight of them in her palm, a different kind of weight than she was used to.

you two ate incredibly fresh seafood at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the pungent aroma filling the air. you found yourself spending hours sketching the breathtaking landscapes, your fingers flying across the page, capturing the essence of the island with charcoal and watercolors. Saebyeok would watch you, a rare, soft expression on her face, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest that went beyond the Jeju sun.

at night, the two of you would sit on the porch, watching the stars explode across the inky sky. you would tell stories of constellations, of star-crossed lovers and celestial battles, your voice a soft, soothing hum. Saebyeok would listen as you rested your head on her shoulder, the sound of the waves a lullaby in the background.

one particular evening, as the moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, you took Saebyeok’s hand and held it tight. “you know,” you began, your voice hesitant, “i’m glad we’re here. i was worried after everything, if you’d ever…”

Saebyeok turned to look at you, her dark eyes shimmering in the moonlight. “ever what?”

“ever feel safe again,” you whispered, your gaze searching Saebyeok’s face.

Saebyeok closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in. she thought of the cold, sterile prison of the room, the constant fear, the unending struggle. and then she looked at you, at the light in your eyes, the steady hand that held hers.

she finally opened her eyes and said, her voice low and honest, “i do now.”

she didn’t say “because of you.” she didn’t have to. you knew. you saw it in the slight upturn of Saebyeok’s lips, in the way her grip tightened around your hand.

the trip to Jeju Island was more than just a vacation. it was a healing balm for your souls, a chance to breathe, to remember what it felt like to be human again. it wasn’t a cure, the past would always be a part of you two. but here, on this beautiful island, surrounded by the love you shared, you found the space to begin piecing yourselves back together. here, in each other, you found hope. and that, for Saebyeok, was way more precious than any prize money.