#Hope you enjoy this

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Part One Part Two.

Angst

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

warnings: underage alcohol use, minor injuries, angst, denying feelings, surprise kisses

Summary: you and Luke go to a party and some things happen while you’re under the influence.

Parties were secret affairs at Camp Half-Blood.

Well, secret from Chiron, the one who would put an end to them. Mr D. could usually be convinced by one of his children to keep quiet if a dash of something alcoholic was poured into his Diet Coke. Once curfew had passed and all the younger children had been safely and snugly tucked in and Chiron and Mr D. had retreated to Big House, all those involved would gather in one of the emptier cabins that had older campers. The Hypnos kids would place a sleeping spell on the younger kids that belonged to the cabin hosting the party.

And then the fun would begin.

The alcoholic beverage supply was not immense, but there was enough provided from older Hermes campers to get, well, severely wasted.

Luke knew that path hadn’t been your initial idea, but you were well on your way there.

He on the other hand, hadn’t drank that much, stopping after he noticed just how much you had been drinking.

You weren’t usually like this. As a daughter of Apollo you were intelligent and responsible, a trusted head counsellor and a masterful healer. It was usually he causing mischief and getting hurt, and you patching him up and reprimanding him.

How the roles had reversed. Instead of your modest camp uniform and demeanour, you were in ripped jeans and a striped tank top and had converted into an absolute entertainer, lighting up the room. You weren’t acting like a semi-rowdy nineteen year old anymore, but a fully-wild twenty-five year old college student. He wished he was as drunk as you, because it seemed you were having the time of your life from how enthusiastically you were laughing with a random Ares girl you had traded drinks with.

Instead he was the only vaguely sober one in a crowd of drunk late teens playing inappropriate games or dancing. It wasn’t fun anymore.

The games were the only thing that kept him there.

“Ok… y/n,” one of your sisters - he couldn’t tell in the dim light, Apollo children all looked golden - drawled, pointing insistently to you. “Do a dare or spin the bottle!”

He observed as you appeared to think, contemplative as you sipped beer - gods you needed to stop drinking, please - before reaching for the glass bottle on the floor. The small crowd cheered and squatted in a wonky circle, Luke joining them and sighing lightly.

He hated this game. Hated how you would happily kiss anyone. He wished in these moments that he did have the courage to talk to you, to tell you how he felt and sweep you off your feet. And then it would be him you would kiss and hold hands with, and he would take care of you and do anything to make you laugh.

But instead you kissed others.

Finally, after a few clumsy grasps of the bottle, you drunkenly clutched it before giving it a rough spin. It whirled around and around noisily, colours shining off of it, and at that moment he loathed that gleaming glass neck, loathed it with a passion for pointing at everyone but him-

For not-

Pointing at him.

At him.

And by some miracle, by some grace from the Gods, it was pointing at him.

His heart raced wildly and he struggled to breathe as he glanced up at you. You were already looking at him. Your eyes looked golden in the light, and your hair covered most of your face, hiding your expression. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, hoping to calm down as he waited for your move.

You stayed still.

Still.

Still.

Maybe this was awkward for you, he suddenly realised, panicking. After all he was your best friend, of course it was weird to kiss your best friend. In fact you were probably waiting for him to call it off, but he’d taken so long to understand, he was an idiot.

“It’s o-okay,” he stuttered, cursing himself, “you don’t-“

You pounced at him, your lips smashing together. Immediately his mind went blank. It was burning, passionate, fierce, and somehow infinitely better than anything he’d ever guiltily dreamed about as he lay awake. He noticed vaguely that you’d landed in his lap and wrapped your arms aggressively around his neck. He was much more preoccupied by your lips, how they moved against his perfectly. How when you were this close to him, you smelled like chocolate chip cookies. How your lips and mouth and tongue tastes like flawless hot spun sugar. How you were into this, and into him. How all of his dreams had come true and maybe this wasn’t a terrible night.

And then you dragged a hand through his curls and it felt so good he had to fight not to groan, ugh.

“Get some, Castellan!”

“Something’s getting a little hot in here.”

And this meant nothing, he realised suddenly as the catcalls continued, his thoughts returning. Because this was all an act, something to impress the others and make them laugh from your boldness. Luke was just the pawn, something to elevate you higher-

He felt sick, his lips slowing, before stopping completely, pulling away from you. He faked a weak smile, drawing his face further away from yours and avoiding eye contact. He didn’t want to see the drunken humour in your eyes.

“Ok, your turn next!!” Someone yelled, and it was all over.

——————————————

So it stayed, an almost torturous existence before he noticed your eyelids drooping as you sleepily accepted the Ares girl’s shot glass. And finally, finally, he had an excuse to get out of this hellhole.

He walked over, dodging campers all around, before he approached, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, y/n,” he said softly, “I think we should get outta here. You seem kinda tired and so am I.”

“How did you know that?!” You asked incredulously, spinning around to him in shock.

“That you were tired?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh,” he chuckled awkwardly, “your eyes are all droopy, it’s kinda obvious.”

“Huh. Well, y’know what, I kinda agree. Let’s go.” You shrugged, waving to the Ares girl as you walked with him. You linked arms and he tried to act normal. You two never shared this much casual contact.

“What’s her name?” Luke asked, focusing on his surroundings, as you walked out the door.

“I have no idea,” you replied cheerily, breaking from him and taking a leap off the step. It didn’t end well, with you tripping and falling in a heap on the damp and cold grass.

“Are you ok?” He asked, knelt over you and concerned. You giggled, nodding and accepting his hand as it pulled you up.

“Ok, just- let me- hold onto me, ok?” He said, looping an arm around your shoulder to keep you steady. He held on as you laughed like a little girl and clung to his t-shirt all the way to your cabin.

The stars were nice tonight. For once, you could see them, like billions of shimmering white dots in the skies and it really added to the peace of the scenery. The air was cooler, there were no people, and it was so much quieter. More serene. He felt as if he could breathe. He glanced at the stars once more as he led you up the stairs to your door, before dropping your hand. Or trying to. You didn’t let go.

“Good night,” he whispered, giving your hand a squeeze and trying again.

Your grip wouldn’t loosen.

“Luke,” you murmured breathlessly, stepping forward, bringing your joined hands to your chest. He could feel your breath, warmth, pulse. Fast. Like his. “Why are you….”

“What?”

You looked as if you were going to say more, but couldn’t find the words, instead stepping even closer, and he could feel your joined hands compressed between your two chests. His chest was still, his breathing completely halted as your eyes observed him delicately, his eyes, nose, scar, jawline, cheeks, mouth, as if he was a priceless painting.

You met him once again.

It was softer this time. Your lips still moved in sync, but it was sweeter, calmer. If the other kiss had been caramel, this was smooth, gorgeous honey. As if you had all the time in the world to dazzle him with your smooth kisses. You probably did. Your hands were slower as well, leaving warm trails all over as they made their way down his back, over his sides and under his shirt, where your fingers traced the hard contours of his chest. He had to restrain the urge to shiver violently at your touch.

You pulled away a fraction, warm breath hitting his lips. “Come inside. Stay over.” You panted against them.

He wanted to. Tiptoeing in with a smile on his face and crawling into your bed, with you beside him? His dream. Being tangled in your bedsheets, waking up with every limb of yours and his twisted together, and your hair splayed over his chest? His Elysium.

But you were drunk, deeply drunk. And if he was ever lucky enough to experience any of that, he wanted to have the real event, where alcohol didn’t influence your willingness. He wanted you to be sober.

“I can’t.” He withdrew from you, out of reach. “You’re drunk and I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’m your best friend, you don’t like me that way. You’re just drunk.”

“Yeah. Like super drunk.” You affirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “But that doesn’t change anything. I like you sooo much-“

No. Luke wouldn’t hear this. After liking - maybe even loving - you for this long, your drunk, confused notions would hurt him too much. He refused to listen.

“C’mon let’s get you to bed so your hangovers not too bad.” He interrupted, taking your arm and leading you into the cabin. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Needless to say, you would never talk about it again if it was up to him.

He left quickly, once you were tucked in, before you could give him a response, with a hurried ‘goodnight’.

Once he was tucked comfortably in his own bunk in cabin 11, he pondered the night’s events. A whole lot of drinking. Stupid games. Not one, but two kisses. Even if they meant… nothing. They were nice either way, and probably the only two he would ever get from you.

————————————————-

The next day, he admitted, was a disaster on his behalf.

He’d had a strong plan to pretend nothing had ever happened. And then while he was getting dressed, four of his siblings wolf-whistled and smirked when they saw him. Clearly not something everyone had forgotten.

And when he saw you at breakfast, wincing slightly and looking drowsy, the moment your eyes had flashed to his, all he could think about were the kisses. He couldn’t see straight, and stumbled while he grasped his breakfast tray, and before he knew it, he hadn’t even said hello to you.

The avoidance gradually increased. After breakfast, he steered clear of you, going straight to his class with younger demigods. He didn’t make an effort to accompany an injured camper to visit you, instead sending one of their friends with them. And during lunch, where he’d usually visit you at the infirmary and bring food, he stayed at Hermes table, with nervous feet rooted to the floor.

He could tell by dinner, you were confused, hurt even, from the glances you were sending to him. And he wanted to go over, make it up to you by sitting beside you and telling you one of the Stoll’s latest schemes, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. It was like he was a shy toddler all over again, clinging to his mother’s leg, and he was so embarrassed for it.

That night, he swore the next day he would be better about everything. Be honest, available and just see how things would go from there. You guys had been through anything. Surely you couldn’t let each other down for this.

He woke early, with a clear mind and went to retrieve breakfast for him and you. Finding you in the infirmary, rolling bandages, he took a deep inhale before stepping in, ready.

“Hey,” he greeted, cringing a little at himself as you dropped the bandage in surprise, and watching as it rolled all over the umber planks in white streaks.

“Oh, uh, hey,” you replied, scrambling to pick it up and sending him a distracted smile. Not the greatest start, but he could improve.

“Sorry I haven’t been around. Been busy, around the place with new campers, y’know,” he lied, feeling guilty, “funny, haven’t actually seen you since we-“

“Hung out at the party?” You interrupted, nodding.

What? Hanging out? Just hanging out did not qualify ignoring him till the party was over and then two kisses and an almost-confession.

Unless you didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. Apparently, this was the case.

“…. Yeah.” He hesitantly agreed, searching your eyes for any signs you might want to take back what you said.

You wouldn’t even meet them.

“Anyway,” he placed the plate down on the bench, faking a smile, “here’s breakfast. Have a great day.”

And as he walked out, disappointed that you had let him down, he couldn’t help but wonder how things would’ve turned out differently if you had been sober.

How he wished you had been sober.

[arnaerr]

merry crisis

aka first christmas with the lizard twins and black hand corporate party

references (thank you @lucien-lachance)

[im-an-anthusiast]

Sweet Melody

Such a sweet melody, all must agree 

What a brilliant song, you play for me 

A favoured melody, my heart’s one key 

A very soothing song, cherished with glee 

Put that butter away, let me love you 

I am proud every day, of all you do 

Love you in every way, you haven’t clue 

Like song, each word you say, rings sweetly true 

Blindingly brilliant, relief from pain 

You, never a bother, it is that plain 

Don’t want you to ever, be under strain 

You are my own brother, and not like Cain  

The sweetest melody, to reach my ears 

The most brilliant song, I’ve heard in years 

My favourite melody, that still endears 

My favourite comfort song, is of my dear’s 

LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO THE VERY LOVELIEST @sleepy-boy-shit

[kitamars]

misery loves company (chapter 2 bonus scene)

[chibi-lucca]

Happy Halloween!

Read left to right (click on image for better quality)

honestly when I say to my friends "Guess who I'm drawing" their first guess is: "Jack Frost?" .... I've become predictable.

Happy Halloween, hope ya'll like Twiggs!

[amplichor]

“ we all have secrets, don’t we? ”

𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 . ᵃᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗᶤᶰᵍ

rocks dig into your palms , shards & * granulated pieces against the tender skin . secrets , truths hidden beneath the lips , keys given to unlock , TO TELL & * to keep . she ' s always been good at keeping them , never good with telling her own . as if there ' s a wall she can ' t climb , can ' t get over . but secrets are meant to be just that : hidden , a tie in the tongue that won ' t come apart with ease . a test of who your heart trusts .

amber sparks in her eyes , gaze , focused on him now pans upward [ . . . ] the sky has always been a form of comfort , the stars often refered to as a blanket , the moon sings a melancholy lullaby , while she witnesses . how many secrets do you think she knows ?

a hum reverberates past her lips , ❛ yes , ❜ she takes the time to cross her ankles , eyes once again switching back to @kezoire . ❛ do you think that ' s for the best ? ❜ it ' s only a question , a way to continue the conversation rather than having it end in such a flat way .

[walnut-kitto]

happy halloween!

Oh trea- NO WAY IS THAT JOTARO KUJO FROM JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE!?!??!?!?!

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

I still have memories of my earliest days, those first few years that I could form them. My very first memory is of not-so-sneaky mischief, of me and my sibling giggling as we shushed each other, hiding under our mother’s office desk with arms full of sweets that caused our stomachs to ache and our faces to smear with chocolate and smiles.

I remember bright summer days and chilly winter nights spent near a roaring fire, scraped knees covered in sheer bandages and healed with a kiss, curling up to my mother’s side as she read out loud to me before I fell fast asleep, wandering through a wondrous dreamscape created by an innocent imagination.

I remember every Christmas and every birthday, blowing out the candles on my cake and, to the amusement of my family surrounding me, taking several attempts to do so. I remember my first friends, my silly childhood crushes, my cherished stuffed animals- every bit of life that was special to me, no matter how small. 

Those days were truly heaven, weren’t they? Untainted by worry and unhindered by want, never wanting to grow up and almost never having to. I remember those years so well, as if each moment is simply a videotape stocked away in my mind, a file that I can revisit whenever I please. The footage is slightly grainy, yellowed with age, but I hold them close and I smile as I put another tape in the VHS player, the soft glow of the television and the murmur of noise echoing in my brain.

I know that those days I imagine are far gone, replaced by the ever-growing mass of the future that threatens to swallow these good times whole, decaying in the face of age. I still cling to them, though- savoring each and every frame of years gone by, rewatching and reliving my life through those tapes.

It’s nice to watch, at least, and remember how things used to be.

[purplethumb]

undefined

So... here is my madness incarnated, aka Big Jack Horner amv. Burning love! He is flaming! 

[berliebaby]

everybodylovesamelia.com ( 2000 )

[nixii-sabre]

Ok in that case then, to Hidden Niche Of Pearls:

You got someone you oh so terribly hate? And if so why?

"To satisfy your curiosity though, those 'two iterators'' names are Green Pines and Endless Moving Nights."

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

The world in a box

A thousand years in the future, the sky is filled with light.

At noon, the light is of a brightness so bright that your eye can't withstand it, but only your bare eyeball can turn away. Your entire field of vision is an empty, blinding void, and there is no sun to cast shadows or light to dim the void. You can't close your eyes against it, either. You can only wait for the light to go away, but even then you won't be able to open your eyes for another century. It will be like the light has never been, but will have, in the span of a single thought, been and gone.

Your skin burns. You feel like you have been electrocuted. You have.

But the light cannot be stopped. The light is not a blinding presence that pales your sight but a blinding absence that does not leave any pained or angry or relieved feeling in your heart, but only a blinding void. The void does not hurt you, but can't so much as touch you, and even when you stand in it for hours you don't lose the feeling that you are in it, that the light does not fill you or wrap you in darkness but instead pours forth into you and you into it. The light fills your entire field of vision, even though there is no sun. The light surrounds you, even when there is no light.

The light is in your body, in your bones, in your blood. It is also in the earth, but you have no idea where on earth it comes from.

The light pulses. The light swells and flares, then collapses, then grows again. It pulses, it pulsates. The void pulsates and pulses. It pounces and falls back and rears up again and falls, over and over, again and again. Again and again, again and again. You cannot stop yourself from watching. You cannot stop yourself from following its rhythm and rhythm alone, even though you know you'll die if you do. It is too early for that; you can feel the light only when your eyelids are closed.

The light is in your lungs, in your tongue. You can only feel it when the light is not shining on you, when the darkness is total. It is like you can't breathe any air from outside, but you can breathe in air from inside your ribcage as well as from outside it. It is as if the inside air was a third element as distinct as the outside air and as distinct as the light.

The light is in every part of your body, from your fingertips all the way up to your lips and your tongue and your nose and your brain and your soul. You feel it pulsating everywhere.

It is like a dream, though without your dreams' half-dream quality. The light is like the world inside the dream, and it is not a dream. It is like you wake up inside a dream, but you don't wake up. You see only a dream within a dream.

You feel the light in your bones like a cold winter night. You feel the light from your lips like a taste, like a memory. You feel the light from your lungs like a breathing and you feel it from your ears, the drumming you hear inside your skull, as if the world were inside you. You hear your bones as if the world were outside you.

You feel the light in your bones as a presence, a thing that fills your field of vision, that surrounds you even when it does not touch you. You feel the light from your lips like a feeling, a memory that fills your entire field of vision. You feel the light from your lungs like a feeling, a memory that fills your entire field of vision. There is a memory inside you that is made of the light.

There is a rhythm inside you made only of the light. The rhythm pulses, like your lungs. The rhythm pulses, like your bones. The rhythm pulses, like your blood. And the rhythm pulses, like your heart. And the rhythm pulses, like your soul.

The light is the world in your ribcage and it is a memory, and it is inside you like a dream, and it is an existence outside of time, and it is pulsating around you, and it is a thing that fills your entire field of vision, and it is a memory, and it is an existence outside of time, and it is a thing that fills your entire field of vision, and it is a pulse. It is a pulse.

[kaytrawrites]

Observation Log #1 - July 2021

My source post, some context, more context (this account is my writing account. the one in the first linked post is my main) (latter two courtesy of Lem Demonadelem)

Started transcribing my observation log so those whose mcyt Ranboos are going through a similer thing don't feel so alone.

Table of Contents Log Below

28.7.21

Something is wrong with my Ranboo. He suddenly retreated into his bedspace and curled up in a little ball.

He is ignoring my attempts to coax him out. I’m calling the local Wildlife Rehab Centre. Hopefully they know whats going on.

–

So the Wildlife Rehab Centre knows fuck-all about what’s going on. Officially panicking now.

–

Called a friend cause I couldn’t calm down. 

They told me to call the MCYT doctor in the city. Called them. Told me to bring my Ranboo in tomorrow. Appointment is scheduled. Said to keep track of if anything changes overnight.

Way calmer now.

Gonna keep an eye on Ran tonight.

29.7.21

WTF WTF WTF

Woke up this morning. Went to check on Ran and his back had split open. I can see pale flesh inside.

Oh god.

Gonna bundle them up and get them to the doctor ASAP.

–

Appointment over.

Doc was mystified. Said that while he’s seen other mcyts do something similar, he’s never seen documented cases of a Ranboo breed doing that.

He looked Ran over and said that health-wise, they’re perfectly fine.

He suggested offering damp towels to make the shedding process easier. Since they’ll be only damp, it shouldn’t cause issues with their skin.

I really hope that it isn’t the start of something worse…

–

Home now.

Set up the damp towels. Hopefully this works.

30.7.21

I-

I'm so confused.

I woke up this morning and I found a stiff dry husk shoved into a corner.

I called out to Ran, fearing the worst.

Something that wasn’t my Ran crawled out of the bedspace. They had one of the blankets wrapped around them.

Instead of the pretty black and white coloring, they are fully pale and their hair is this dishwater blonde. They look like those cooking-video Ranboos?

He responds to me just fine. But. That’s not my Ran.

I took a picture with my phone to send to the doctor. He hissed at me.

–

Doctor called me back. We have another appointment scheduled for tomorrow.

Keeping an eye on the observation cameras tonight.

31.7.21

Woke up this morning to Ran scratching on the wall with one of their pens.

They were writing something.

Something about ‘pacts’? And ‘1974’? I also see ‘1984’ in places too.

–

Currently at the doctor’s.

They didn’t fight me when I moved them into the carrier.

Waiting for the appointment. He is scribbling away in a notebook. Gonna have to take a look at that later tonight when they fall asleep.

–

Doctor said that he can’t detect any concerning variance. He was still able to locate Ran’s chip, and it’s still got my data.

It’s my Ran. But it’s not.

Doc took blood. Ran was not happy about that. Doc will call me tomorrow with the results.

Idfk man. Gonna quarantine him when I get home. No guests over for 2 weeks. No taking them out for 2 weeks.

Gonna miss seeing the others at the mcyt playgroup.

[katestrophic]

Birthday present for @rikusqueenofhearts! Here's a meme redraw I did for Riku x Meg XD

Feat a bonus Sakura giving Riku what he deserves

Happy birthday once again bestie! :3

[allthedrugsforcreativity]

[tinknevertalks]

Chapters: 32/? Fandom: Sanctuary (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Helen Magnus/Nikola Tesla Characters: Nikola Tesla, Helen Magnus Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Tumblr Prompt, Fictober 2021, they were roommates, Additional Warnings In Author's Note Summary: Nikola needs to move out of his friend's tiny flat. Helen is looking for a room mate. One advert changes things for good.

Fictober 2022 prompts now being used. 01 - I chose you.