#luke cinder

[itz-candikin]

Happy pride month! I have so many gay characters (I can probably count the cishets on one hand). Here's the ones I just decided to draw lol

[candikin]

A Cinder Family Ramble Post

Might be a... little confusing, I know

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Some Basic Info

The Cinder Family is a family of 4 adopted kids of a single mother. The 4 were orphaned due to a horrible house fire, though Emeliana was left in the fire and was luckily saved by a man accidentally using the teleporter on the poor infant. Though 3 of the kids got raised by Nilly, Emeliana was raised by the Ink Inc before escaping and being left in the Everwoods

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I'll start first with... Nilly Cinder

The adoptive mother of all of the Cinder's children. She always wanted kids, but due to her age and her never wanting a husband, she never got them. When she saw three of the Cinder siblings, she decided to adopt them and raise them. She was very kind to them, and made sure they were treated all fairly

She never adopted Emeliana though until Emmy was an adult, as she was thought to be dead. Nilly has a bit of secret hatred towards Gadget Gabe and the others who took Emeliana, but does not wish harm on them as she's a firm believer that everyone has good in them. Due to this, Nilly has unintentionally influenced Luke to join the Toppat Clan

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Luke Cinder

The oldest of the kids. He's secretive and insecure, constantly worried that people are constantly judging him. He wears a gray ribbon to cover his pink eyes, and only ever wears hoodies and jackets all because he's scared of how people will think of him. He tries to make himself seem tough, but nobody ever falls for it

Luke feels bad about his past, as he wasn't... a very good person back then. He used to hate his brother, as he blamed Jack for Emeliana being left in the house. Luke now understands how much he must of traumatized Jack from all of that, and how Jack was only 5 at the time. Luke is scared to reconnect with his brother, worried that Jack hates his guts now

Luke is the only one of the family who actually joined the Toppat Clan. He doesn't do much in the clan though, he's a pretty unmotivated person. He often gets jealous with others in the clan, always thinking they're much better then he is. When Luke does work, he often does it alone, not wanting to seem like a burden. Lexi tries to get Luke to befriend more clan members though

Luke isn't used to any affection, so he used to be very easy to manipulate and control. He then developed trust issues from how much he was just used, but he still gets controlled from time to time, most recent example was Lizzy Lavender. Liz was a C.C.C member just wanting to stop the Toppat Clan, but Luke trusted Liz with his life... until Lizzy mysteriously died

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Cinnamon Cinder

The second oldest. She's a sweetheart, who almost never judges. She always at least tries to understand people's point of view. She has pink eyes just like Luke's, but most think they are just contacts.

Pink eyes are a gift of the true goddess, Desiree. People with both of their eyes as a hot bright pink color are guardians, and the 13 Angels are supposed to tell guardians the secrets of their world and the future... of course the 13 Angels would never do that now, but a certain someone related to them did decide to expose Cinnamon to the future as Cinna was the last guardian, and Luke would of... reacted terribly to it if they were fair and exposed it to both of them

...the person never realized how poorly Cinnamon reacted to this info though. Cinna tried to tell everyone whenever she got a vision of the future, but nobody believed her. This slowly made me think she was crazy, and eventually just kept it all to herself. It was slowly eating her up though, as her visions slowly became true, but she couldn't do anything about it as even then... the only person who believed her was herself

Cinnamon tries to befriend everyone and live her life to her fullest... as one of her visions was that she was going to die at 28. She tried to avoid Henry Stickmin, as he looked familiar to the vision of her death... but since Jack still befriended Stickmin, she didn't know what exact day she would die on, and she didn't want to seem like a jerk... she hung out with Henry and Jack

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Jack Oliver Cinder

Jack, you probably have seen him before. He fixes helicopters, he's engaged to Charles, and he loves mysteries. He wanted to be a detective but he wanted to spend more time with Charlie instead

Jack actually knows the city is pretty corrupted and has some dark secrets hidden around. When he was a teenager, he really wanted to figure out what was wrong and stop it... but as he got older, he knew it would be much harder then he thought it would as a kid and just slowly tried to ignore it

He tries his best to get close to his older brother, especially after Luke apologized for his actions. Jack has never hated him, just hurt. He doesn't understand why Luke constantly avoids him though, even after time passed. Jack feels a bit isolated, but his friends help him get over the feeling

Whenever something goes wrong, Jack blames himself. This is because back when Luke was blaming him for Emmy's disappearance, Luke also blamed Jack for everything that went wrong. Jack is trying to learn not to blame himself first, but it's still hard for him. Luckily Jack has all the support he needs

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Emeliana Cinder

Emeliana, the youngest. She was just a infant when she suddenly got teleported away from her burning house. She never knew about the others until she was an adult. Instead, Emmy pretty much had to raise herself

She was originally in a place owned by a small company called the Ink Inc. She was locked in a room with two other girls, who I will leave unnamed for now. One girl just sometimes stayed over for the night, meanwhile the other and Emmy lived in this room. Emeliana eventually learned the Ink Inc did not have good intentions, so she was then determined to escape

Once she finally did... she couldn't save the others. This made her feel terrible about herself at first, since she just didn't have enough resources or time to get anyone else out

Once she grew up, she eventually meets a guy named Kid, who's friends with the rest of the family. Once Emeliana tells Kid that her last name is Cinder, Kid realizes Emeliana might just be the same Emeliana the other Cinders were mentioning. He then introduced her to the rest of the family

Emeliana... tries her best to connect with the rest of the family. It's hard though since her youngest sibling is 5 years older then her. They also didn't even grow up together, so they barely have anything in common.

She's still protective over them though, not wanting to be in a situation where she can only save herself again. Due to living most of her life alone without knowledge of laws... her morals are a bit messed up. To put it short, Emeliana has gone as far as murdering people to protect her friends and family

[2stepadmiral]

Now that Jod is decidedly proven to be a ruthless, Force using pirate who now has a lightsaber, it’s possible that Luke could show up in the finale. And if he does, I don’t want to hear ANY cries about fan service or overuse, because A) Luke has appeared in precisely two episodes of any live action shows (not counting young Luke in Obi Wan), and he was the most underutilized character in the sequels (apart from Lando) and the one who suffered the most character assassination. He sure as hell hasn’t been over utilized; and B) it makes as much in-universe sense for the last Jedi Master in the Galaxy to be interested in a Force sensitive ruthless pirate with a lightsaber who is on the trail of a long lost Old Republic planet that could potentially have Jedi relics hidden somewhere on the surface (and to have heard of it through his New Republic contacts in regard to underworld/Imperial Remnant buildup) as it does for a main member of the strike team to steal the Death Star plans to have once been put to work by the Empire building panels for the Death Star superlaser while in prison for jaywalking.

[disabilityshowdown]

[IDs: Luke is a light skinned man with short brown hair, dressed in all black and holding up a green lightsaber in a dueling position. Wylan is a light skinned teenage boy with short curly red hair, wearing a blue brown and orange sweater vest and blue-grey coat. He is carrying a sheaf of papers that are scattering out of his arms. Cinder is a light skinned teenage girl with black hair in pigtails, is wearing a blue sleeveless shirt with grey apron and blue gloves, and is holding some kind of mechanical tool.]

Disabilities: Luke has a prosthetic hand, Wylan has a learning disability preventing his ability to read, Cinder is a cyborg with multiple limb prosthetics and chronic pain

[impossiblesuitcase]

as an eldest sister, I think that peony would be the oldest, and then a younger brother, and then the littlest sister. I’m curious, what would you name them

That's my order too!

I want them to have Chinese or Japanese names, the latter running off the fact that both Kaito is a Japanese name so the Imperial family--although situated in China--has some Japanese heritage. I don't have any names set in stone, but I like Kaminari, Yutaro and Emiko.

If the first two kids are going to have Peony and Rikan as a part of their names (whether first or middle names), I'd love Emiko for their third because then Iko also gets the special family name treatment.

Anyway these are just placeholder names for me, I'm open to others! As long as it's not Marie Rose Elizabeth, as I've seen some fics name kaider kids. To those names, I say:🤨

[sarahjaneadventures]

update on my commission prices! ive raised them so i am happy to discuss payment installations (ie half upfront, half after completed) and whatnot :P i would appreciate any rbs regardless of if youre interested or not, just in case it can reach someone who is!

backgrounds will typically be free simple colour backgrounds or something akin to the above examples as i want to practice backgrounds more before i include them in commissioned work/price, but if it is something you are absolutely interested in including then im happy to discuss and negotiate that further! another note is that the price raise on colour if exceeding five characters mentioned on the warrior cats image applies to style a and b as well i just forgot to include it lol

standard will draw your blorbos, ocs, light blood/injury, etc. standard wont draw gore nsfw mechs and anything that i am uncomfortable with . in my broke student era so i am blowing kisses to anyone who sends their blorbos my way . tagging featured fandoms and characters in examples for reach !!

[galacticwildfire]

I think one of my favourite images to have of my oc Hope Solo is her at like six years old with her Dad who is Han freaking Solo, and then having two uncles who blew up a death star each, and just begging to meet her idol Hera Syndulla.

"How about you ask Uncle Luke or Uncle Lando about the death star, or Dad can tell you about one of his adventures in the Falcon."

"No Mom I want to meet Hera Syndulla."

And cut to Han in the background shaking his head in defeat that Hera finally won their longstanding rivalry courtesy of his six year old daughter.

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ preface ] | sylus

— summary: whatever they have is cosmic. which is why you quietly bow out, thinking you never stood a chance. — cw: reader is not mc, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of burned bodies, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, stream of conciousness, mdni — notes: shout out to @alfredosaws, @cheshireworld, and @midiplier for inspiring this! thank you for reading! here's a playlist to keep you entertained! edit: part 2 can be found here. — now playing: abracadabra - brown eyed girls

“Did you see that?!”

A smirk crooks your lips. 

You watch the source of excitement in your periphery, her mirth infectious. You pat the space between her shoulder blades, the other hand stuffed in your pocket, pride swelling in your chest. The SUV eases into focus, a sleek outline of black, haloed by the sun’s deceptively innocent glow.

“I did.”

Her eyes brighten like stars shining in the inky night. She punches at the air—a reenactment of the moves she displayed during your scuffle inside the warehouse. It burns a pretty blend of orange and yellow behind, flames licking a cyan sky, smoke billowing from squealing metal. Carnage you left behind after a deal gone sour, structure and bodies turned to cinder, courtesy of one nefarious mafioso with a bomb fetish. 

She flexes her bicep, fixing you with a grin that’s all canines. “I was pretty badass, huh?”

You quirk a brow, quietly giving her props. 

A chuckle erupts from behind you both. You don’t look back. His presence is ever-looming. Imposing, towering over your shoulder, oozing smugness. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kitten.” 

He says it to humble her. To keep her head from overinflating, but you don’t miss the affection surfing in the undercurrents of his voice. It always lives there when he chides her. 

You can’t blame him. She’s come a long way: Ms. Hunter. 

Initially, she feared being roped in with the lot of you. Rejected the lifestyle of doing very bad things to equally bad people. She eventually found her niche, and you unconsciously took her under your wing, treating her like something of a sibling—a friend.

You knew she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. Sylus made that clear. Cryptic as ever, forcing her onto you, refusing to tell you everything. Only that she owed him a debt, and he brought her around to collect.

At first, you despised the arrangement. She was a thorn in your side, the bane of your existence. Her very presence threatened the hodgepodge life you constructed with your makeshift family—Luke, Kieran, Mephisto, Sylus.

She was too nice. Reckless. Too self-righteous, where you were calculative. A manipulator, a killer. Your hands dripped red while hers were delicate as orchid petals. But she had Sylus wrapped around her finger—a feat you struggled to conquer for years. The man was playing Kitty Cards and sneaking plushies into the manor, for crying out loud. Besides, you couldn’t deny how she squirmed her way through the fissures of your own heart, nestling between atriums and ventricles like she’d always belonged there. 

You found yourself quietly rooting for them—your big, bad wolf of a boss and his precious little lamb. The affection blooming between them was palpable, like datura petals drifting in an errant breeze. Though an official title never revealed itself to you, you sensed whatever bond they shared was cosmic. Something you couldn’t touch or disrupt no matter how hard you tried. So you wordlessly conceded, bowing out of a competition you constructed in your mind. 

You were content with protecting her. Showing her the ropes, knowing in the back of your mind she would one day replace you. You were slowly becoming old news, no longer the center of Sylus’ orbit. It was fitful, but it was nice to see him smile like that for a change. To see this side of him, smitten with his defenses buried beneath the rubble, and you supposed that was enough for you. 

At least this way, you could remain by his side. Fulfill your own obligations, continuing to serve him, even if it means watching the world you’ve grown so accustomed to slowly fall away from your feet. 

“You did a good job,” you say, disrupting the slurry of your thoughts, a fond hand ruffling her hair, eyes creased at the corners. 

You usher the hunter into the passenger seat of the SUV. She’s still buzzing in the aftermath of your fight as you shut the door, a chuckle roiling in your chest. You turn to ease into the backseat, but Sylus is there, wearing that customary smirk, holding the rear door open for you instead. 

“You both did well.”

The look you toss at him is suspicious. Raised brows and a sardonic curve to your lips. There’s more to his praise than he lets on, handing it out like a rare bouquet, usually reserved for her. Sylus merely shrugs, feigning innocence, his intentions shielded behind dark lenses. You ease into the chilled leather seat, the swell of noise from the fire traded for Ms. Hunter animatedly recounting the day’s events when the door shuts beside you.

You lapse into monotony, watching plumes of smoke fade in the rearview mirror as the three of you ease onto the highway. Sylus’ hand is tight on the steering wheel. Long, spindly fingers wrapped around coarse leather. His voice is bold like black coffee, warming your innards on a wintry day, as he and Ms. Hunter exchange words you can’t be bothered to follow up front. Occasionally, scarlet eyes catch yours in the mirror. It’s as if he’s keeping tabs on you, ensuring you’re still here. Like you’re poised to tuck and roll out the backseat, driven by how comfortably they speak with each other.

Physically, you’re present. Mentally, you’re drifting off. Watching power lines skate by, blurring with the skyline and mountains as the vehicle slides downhill. Maybe you’re more exhausted than you initially thought. You’d taken a hit or two in the fray earlier. Have blood speckling the ivory collar of your shirt, a scrape lining your jaw, and you’re sure you’ll have pretty splotches of blue and purple staining the corner of your mouth come tomorrow. 

Pain is usually an afterthought. You’re so used to shielding, so accustomed to recklessly throwing your body around, and the adrenaline’s ebbing, making way for the dull throb of a migraine and sleepiness dangling like sandbags from your upper lids. You lean against the door, propped on your elbow, temple roosted on swollen knuckles. You blink slowly, your heart beating steady until the scenery beyond the window makes way for darkness. You won’t be at the hotel for another hour. A little catnap won’t hurt. 

Before you fully relinquish yourself to the pretty girls of sleep, an enthusiastic voice peels through the inkiness. Static against a violet backdrop, tugging a quiet smile onto your lips. Ms. Hunter.   

“We should celebrate!”

We should, you muse, sinking below the shadowy depths of sleep, lured there by the bumping of the SUV against the road and Sylus fondly teasing the source of your envy.

masterlist | conflict

[number-onekidqueen]

The Seven Times Luke Castellan Said 'I Love You'

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

Pure angst.

3.7k words

Warnings: death, injury, insecurities, bad parenting, spoilers for Percy Jackson book series.

One. 

Luke must’ve been four the first time he ever said those three words. 

He’d been at preschool, and it was the second week. He’d missed mommy. He felt different to all the other kids, and there were all these really scary faces that kept popping out of bushes that no one else could see. His mommy had picked him up early when the preschool called, and taken him home to a surprise. She’d baked his favourite: choc chip cookies, and he was even allowed to drink Kool-Aid too! 

“I love you, mommy!!” He’d mumbled, while he stuffed his little mouth with the baked goods, in a sugary daze. 

It made him feel so much better, knowing at least he had mommy to always come home to and rely on. 

If only that had been true. 

Two. 

He was 9 when he said that sentence for the second time. 

Mom wasn’t there for him anymore. 

He was scared to go to school and leave her alone, because every time he got home, she would be insane. It’s like she wasn’t there with him anymore. 

She would scream so loud and her eyes would be bright green, and she’d shake him and cry, wailing about how he was going to die. Usually it would make him so disturbed he’d run into his bedroom and lock the door, hoping she wouldn’t follow. 

She always did. 

It was when she started to pound on his door, begging him to come out, that he’d begin to sob, shaking in fright. 

He’d pray and pray to his dad in desperate tears, asking and asking him to bless his mom, to free her from this curse and to make her better again. It didn’t ever stop. 

She’d still make cookies, sometimes, but she’d forget about them and leave them in for so long they’d always be burnt to cinders. She’d serve Kool-Aid too, but he’d grown out of it. 

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore. His mom wasn’t getting better, but worse. Her fits were getting more frequent, and Luke’s dad wasn’t doing anything to help him. 

Luke couldn’t stay here a second longer. 

“I love you, mum,” he whispered to her curled figure on the couch, a full backpack on his shoulder and all his childhood allowance in his pockets as he softly closed the door. 

He knew they’d be better off without each other. 

Three. 

Luke was fourteen when he said that phrase for the third time. 

He’d finally found his family. 

Sure, it hurt to think of his mother, all alone in his old house, but he had two amazing, brave and funny sisters to make up for that.

Until he didn’t. 

It was all such a blur. 

One second, they’d just been meeting some satyr by the name of Grover, who claimed to be their protector, a safeguard back to a camp for kids like them. 

They’d been on the journey, he, Thalia, Annabeth, wondering what it would be like when they got there, what would happen. 

And then the cyclops had struck. 

It had all gone too quickly from there. They’d been running madly, tripping through the forest scrub, their hearts pumping, their adrenaline pulsing, Grover yelling that the entrance to camp wasn’t far, that they’d be safe there and to keep going. 

The cyclops was still gaining on them,  and Luke was starting to feel an awful sense of dread. 

Then Thalia - brave, amazing, stupid Thalia - had volunteered to fight the monster. She’d told them to run ahead, that she had the sucker and would be right behind them. 

And Luke was scared and thinking of Annabeth and safety, and he agreed, he kept running. 

He left her. 

His sister. 

He swore he blinked once, and then she was dying, crumpled on the dirt, bleeding out and groaning in pain, camp only an ironic few metres away. 

None of them even had time to reach out a hand to help her before she turned golden, vanished into a great big pine tree. 

Gone forever before he could say goodbye. 

“I love you, Thalia,” he whispered that night, not caring that he was breaking curfew rules, getting too close to the dangerous outskirts of camp. 

Not caring he was using present tense. He refused to say ‘loved.’

Because he would love Thalia forever. 

Four

Luke was sixteen the fourth time he uttered those words. 

After all his life he was finally at home. 

He’d grown accustomed and comfortable with camp, accepting it as his home. Even though sometimes it was weird to be at a summer camp all year round, he found happiness in his new place, trying to forget about the bad things. Thalia. His mother. 

He’d found peace in routine, and confidence. Chiron said he was becoming what would be the best swordsman Camp Half-Blood had seen in 300 years. 

There were his friends and siblings. He had Chris and the Stolls, and all the other Hermes kids that made his cabin rowdy and feel homelike. 

Then there was y/n, probably his best friend, an Apollo girl who’d healed him immediately after he got to camp and had been there for him since. 

There were heaps of activities to keep him busy. Training. Capture the flag. Parties, when he was old enough. 

It had been the second of one of the post-curfew parties Luke had been to, and he admitted he had drank too much. Far too much. 

Things had got out of hand when an Ares boy had insulted you, someone who was lovely to everyone. He couldn’t really even remember what the boy had said, only that it enraged him and he’d only seen red after that. 

It all sort of went downhill from there. He’d thrown a punch, received one, and the rest was a sweaty and jagged dance of thrown limbs. 

And now he was here, replaying the events in his mind, sat on the bathroom floor of the Apollo cabin, you kneeling over him with a warm cloth. His fists clenched at the thought of that stupid boy again. 

“Luke,” you whispered, and the thoughts disappeared. “Look at me so I can fix you up.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. It gave him an excuse to openly stare at you. In this dim light, you were gorgeous. Your skin seemed to glow golden from within, which mirrored the bright warmth of your eyes, and the radiance of your hair that framed your face. It was bittersweet, making him happy yet sick with longing, especially in his drunken state, to think of how you weren’t his. I want you, he wanted to whisper. He nearly did. 

“Thank you. You’re so good.” He said instead. 

“I don’t know about that, but always. That’s what best friends are for,” you reassured, smiling. 

His heart sank. He didn’t want you like a best friend. He wanted you to want him like he wanted you. 

“Yeah,” he said offhandedly. 

There was a long pause. Your touch was soft on the cuts all over him, and although it stung, it was worth it. It was finished all too soon except-

“I’m still hurt,” he tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t form, “like, my chest.”

“He got you there too? Through your shirt?”

“Yeah. Little sucker had a pocketknife and everything.”

“Ok,” you replied. The room stayed silent. Suddenly, he was confused. 

“Um-“

“Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out, um-“

Your hands reached for him almost… shyly. Could it be possible that you were overthinking seeing him like this, flustered, also thinking about him like he was about you? It drew a grin to his face. He decided to play with you. 

“You don’t have to treat me that delicately. I promise it doesn’t hurt that much.” 

You gave a nervous laugh, your hands moving slightly faster as he lifted his arms. 

And then it was time to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were certainly not on him, but his chest, and it almost seemed your cheeks had transitioned from golden to rosy. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“I gather that stare is either in reaction to my amazing abs or really bad cut. Either way, take it all in,” he teased. It occurred to him later he would never have said anything remotely like this if he was sober. 

“Haha, Castellan,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and continuing your job. But you were smiling. 

Your features were even softer closer up. It took his breath away, and he couldn’t help the words that next escaped from the confines of his heart. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

You froze, midway through finishing dabbing a cut. Your eyes looked up at his, his earnest, vulnerable irises. And then you looked down at his lips. And dropping the cloth, you took his face into your hands and kissed him. It was the most exhilarating, fantastic five seconds of his life. And then you pulled away, stepping back. 

“There you go. That’s probably all you wanted, since you’re drunk. You’re-you’re healed now.” You stuttered out. 

And he wanted to chase you, have another kiss, try to create a proper response to that, to why he loved you, but you’d ran away from him, and he didn’t want to be snooping through someone else’s cabin, even in his state. 

He was left reeling in the moonlight, stumbling back to his cabin before the harpies found him. Once he was between the sheets, his mind muddled, he found it easy to fall asleep, the image and feel of you still in his mind. 

He woke up the next day, baffled that his mind could come up with a dream so lifelike. Even mad that maybe a Hypnos kid has taken note of his crush and decided to create a dream like that as a prank. What assholes. 

Because you would never kiss someone like him, he knew that. 

Like ever. 

Five

Luke was seventeen the fifth time he said that statement. 

He hadn’t known things could get so much worse. 

His father, finally acknowledging him after his claiming, had sent him on a quest. Sure, it was a reused quest from Heracles, but Luke knew just how glorified and contested quests were, and so he accepted happily, choosing two of the older and more experienced campers to assist him in retrieving the golden apples from the dragon. 

You were a bit offended that he hadn’t chose you, and he had no explanation that he could offer you, save for a confession. It made for a parting laced with bitterness. 

The quest started off fine, and they got to their destination smoothly, but it quickly went downhill from there. 

Once they were in the garden, almost immediately the dragon was alerted of their presence. It began to attack, using quick, violent manoeuvres that were hard to keep up with for even the most experienced. 

Too hard for one of his quest mates, who became food for the monster’s jaws. It was a sickening, gruesome sight that Luke could never wipe from his mind. 

The other quest mate became injured soon after that, and then it was Luke on his own. 

At that point, even he knew the quest was lost. He was just defending himself and trying to get out alive. And so he did, with a painful scar from eye to chin as a marking of his forever defeat against the dragon. 

He returned as a failure. 

He was wounded, with a permanent and ugly physical memory, one of his quest mates was dead, the other also mortally wounded, and their fingers hadn’t even grazed the golden flesh of the apples. He couldn’t even finish an already done quest. 

Worse was the pity. 

The moment he stepped past Thalia’s tree and into camp, all he received was pity. Quiet voices, soft glances, stopped conversations, permits, excuses. 

It was as if he were the dragon, and they were afraid that if they did not tread lightly he may begin roaring flames at them. 

He never did. 

Just like y/n never treated him with pity. 

Your eyes were objective, calculating as they surveyed his wounds. Of course your words were soft, but they always were, with your perfect bedside manner. In those moments where you treated him normally, he couldn’t appreciate you more. 

Worst of all probably were the nightmares. He had one awful recurring one: he’d be back in that hellish garden, the dying screams of his dead quest mate and the roaring of the dragon in his ears, the adrenaline and chase all through him, and then every camper he’d ever known would appear, surround him and shake their heads, looking at him in pity and knowing he was a failure. They would chant it, and pelt burning rocks at him, and he would run, run, run, but he could never escape it. 

He couldn’t bear it one hot late July night, and slipped away under the stars. He was always calmer there, where he could put himself and his feelings into perspective. 

And that’s where y/n had found him, sitting on the dew-soaked grass with his knees loosely curled to his chest. 

You didn’t say anything in the beginning, just sat there beside him, breathing, stargazing too. 

“I’ve seen you come out here, every night this week.” You stated, finally looking over at him. “Are the nightmares that bad?”

He nodded, gulping down the fear and tears that submerged at the thought. 

“You should’ve come to me, you know we have dreamless tonic at the infirmary-“

“Yeah I know. But I deserve it, don’t I?” He asked bitterly, turning to you, “I failed and so I get to live with the consequences. The nightmares.”

“No. No, of course not. You don’t have to face consequences-“

“But I do already, don’t I? I feel like I’m not even the same at all, like I’ll never be the same again. I’ve got this stupid, disgusting scar,” he spat, jabbing at his face, “as this reminder and I’ve got to live knowing I wasn’t ever good enough to succeed and my failure led to someone’s death.”

There was silence for a while, where you gazed at him, at his eyes. 

“Stop blaming yourself,” you said softly, “I won’t let you.”

“I can’t help it though,” he whispered, voice cracking, “after training for so long and everyone telling me I’m the best swordsman, I couldn’t save someone, could barely defend myself. And now they’re dead, because of me. And every time I try and forget it- I look in the mirror and see this-this scar and-“

You scooted closer, and one of your hands laid over his. 

“Your scar isn’t a symbol of failure. It should never be. It means you’re brave, that you survived that dragon-“ you reached for his face, and so, so gently began to run your index finger down his scar, “-that you’ve overcome all that horror and emerged stronger.”

You cupped his cheek after you finished tracing. His heart was racing. 

“And you’re still the same to me. You’re still smart, funny, brave, handsome, strong. You’re still you. Don’t let anyone take that away.”

Your hand slowly drew away from his face, but he caught it, keeping you there. 

And he stared. 

Stared at this beautiful, golden girl who was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could only think of three words. 

“I love you,” he whispered to you, and he slowly leaned in. 

You kissed, his hands in your silky hair and yours on his strong back, and this was the most effective healing Luke had ever had. 

He knew at this moment that the best he would ever be was with you. 

And that would be always, he hoped. 

Six. 

Luke was nineteen the next time he spoke from his heart. 

Things were finally getting better, but they had a long way to go. Luke would be there to see the good change come through. 

Camp was normal. Demigods died, demigods lived. They got claimed, their parents ignored them for months or years. They would train for quests, row, sing at camp fires. He would teach sword classes, rowing, and in his spare time he and y/n would go to their secret spot at the lake and…. Spend some time together in private. 

Flustered and a little ruffled they would return to have dinner, stargaze, play wild games of Capture the Flag. 

Luke was happy enough. But he didn’t know how long this would last, this calm joy. 

He couldn’t live like this, waiting in fear for the other shoe to drop with no help from his dad and the other gods. 

He’d made his decisions, laid his plans, and now he waited. Waited. 

Tangled in your arms, he traced shapes on your hands as you played with his hair. It was a warm environment, like the home he never had. 

The nightmares never really left Luke. Well, unless you were with him. 

It was many a night, after curfew, when snores were in the air that he would sneak into your cabin and join you (There were too many people in Hermes cabin for the alternative to ever happen). 

And there in your bed he would stay. Sometimes you would talk. Sometimes you would make out. And sometimes you would have quiet times like this, all of each other intertwined as you were lost in comforting thoughts. 

Well, you were. 

Luke was lost in guilt and impossible choices. He never wanted to leave you, be apart from you. He didn’t know how he’d live without seeing you, hearing your voice. And he hated to leave you like this.  But he knew you would never join him. Apollo hadn’t been great, but he hadn’t been terrible and he knew his plans would scare you. He wanted the best for half bloods. This was the only way he could think of. When he came back, surely you would understand. 

“You’re so quiet,” you mumbled, from your place under his chin. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what I was thinking about?” And he made up some deep philosophical thought that the two of you quietly discussed and argued about for the next little while, the conversation drifting to other topics before you got drowsy. 

“Good night,” you murmured, lifting your face to kiss his nose, scar and lips softly. You returned your head to its place, your warm lips in a smile against his neck, “see you in the morning.”

His stomach plunged, and he felt sick with guilt. He reached over for you, drawing you in for a long, passionate kiss. You, still half asleep, confusedly frowned, but settled back into him with a grin on your face. It was a goodbye, but you didn’t know that. 

“I love you,” he breathed, while you fell asleep, and he swore he saw your lips turn upwards. You succumbed to sleep quickly, and it made it simple to softly slip away, escape from you. 

As he passed Thalia’s tree, he turned back to look at the cabins, your cabin. 

He’d run away once from a home, and it had hurt him. But it had been worth it in the end, and he didn’t regret it. 

It hurt running away from this home. Was it worth leaving if it tore his heart into two? He supposed only time would tell. Fitting, giving who his new master was. 

——————

And that was the last time Luke ever said I love you. 

Well, there was once more. 

——————————

Seven. 

He didn’t know how old he was when he said that small sentence for the final time. 

All he knew was he obeyed Kronos and that the gods had to be slain. 

The city at least was familiar. A deep, small part of him felt almost… scared and upset that this city was being damaged. 

Oh, and the people. There was a boy he hated, who was powerful and threatening. And a girl with him, who he should hate but he seemed to, well, not. 

It had all unfolded so suddenly, the defeat, and suddenly he remembered bits and pieces. 

He’d betrayed camp half blood, the only home that he had known, but only so the gods would pay attention to them, be better parents. But what he was doing now wasn’t what he had wanted. Not at all. 

He supposed it was an easy decision to make when the boy - ….. Percy - told him to stab himself in the armpit. 

He did and finally, in the deadly silence, he was himself again. He was Luke Castellan. A demigod, a child of Hermes. A lot of other things. 

For a moment all he could see was the blonde girl whose name he couldn’t remember, that stared at him as he began to writhe in pain. The same blonde girl he couldn’t seem to hate, who he seemed to be soft for. 

A lot of other faces stared too, who seemed to be familiar to him but he couldn’t place. 

And then there was screaming. Loud, pained screams and running footsteps and a panic rose inside of him. He knew that scream, although he’d rarely heard it. 

And there was you, y/n. A face and voice he instantly knew, that he would remember half-dead, which ironically reflected the place he was in now. 

You were as beautiful as he remembered, even now, your face contorted, grimy, tears streaming, your hair a sweaty mess. 

“No, I can heal him, I can heal him.” You sobbed, kneeling beside him and trying to staunch the bleeding which he could oddly not feel. 

He hated seeing you like this. So sad, hurt, in pain. Knowing there was nothing he could do to improve it made it even worse. 

He reached for your hand, squeezing it and attempting a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you, because you never deserved it. And-“ he coughed, dust in his lungs. 

“I love you.” He said, loud and clear for the world to hear. He wanted to say more, but his chest was weak. 

It was only them for that moment. You dove in and kissed him, just as passionately as he had that final night. It took his breath away, and he found himself grinning, joyous, at peace. 

It was a goodbye, but he didn’t know that.

[jessicas-pi]

star wars is my main fandom which makes it difficult to be in other smaller fandoms because there's a lesser chance of finding the specific fanmade content i want. like, when i want to read a star wars AU where luke got raised by the organas then i have plenty of fics to pick from! but when i wanna read a lunar chronicles AU where michelle benoit raised cinder theres ZILCH

[itz-candikin]

Joined a trend <3 (dont mention how I somehow spelt it wrong)

Inspo:

[candikin]

I got distracted and started a different drawing so I'll just list the stuffs here just in case I end up completely forgetting to draw them. I think I talked about them before though

Characters in order: Bruno, May, Aqua, Luke, Mr. Somebody, Lynn

Relationship stuff in read more vv

______________________________________________________________

Bruno and May don't seem much like a couple in public, as May getsa bit uncomfortable with public affection. In private however, Bruno and May get very flirty and lovey-dovey. Bruno's toughness and coldness just breaks completely when May is around, and May gets more confident around Bruno

Bruno and May are both 26

______________________________________________________________

Aqua and Luke aren't really the affection type, they prefer to show their love by spending time with eachother instead. Many even mistake them as just friends that jokingly flirt with eachother. They know everything about eachother and don't like to keep secrets from eachother. They do make fun of other couples for not being like them however...

Both Aqua and Luke are 29

______________________________________________________________

Lynn and Somebody have went through everything together, they seen murder, they had kids, they got divorced then remarried eachother, so they know nothing will stop them. Though their relationship will never be the same as how they acted in highschool, they still love eachother dearly. Hurt one of them, and the other will beat the shit out of you

Even since Mr. Somebody has gotten infected from a ink monster, Lynn has been very careful with him. She knows that he has to stay calm or else he'll start turning into a ink monster himself... it's kinda tearing her apart that she has to be so careful around him. She can't even make Mr. Somebody happy or else it'll risk the infection

Lynn is 51 and Mr. Somebody is 49

[bluntblade]

Of all Star Wars films, RotJ is particularly wild to watch with all the extended universe context. Somewhere near this goofiness with the Ewoks, Rex, Twilight Company, Inferno Squad and others are engaged in various savage running battles. Sinjir is killing Blevins. And just after this, Poe's mum will almost shoot Luke down. Wyll Lark is just offscreen here, watching Luke ceremoniously burn Vader and feeling deeply confused. Enjoy that celebration while you can, people of Theed City, because you'll be fighting to fend off Operation Cinder within a week. And last but not least, I wonder which of those huts the Damerons are fucking in?

[frc-ambaradan]

A long time ago in a... well... galaxy full of ducks and mice

Hello there!

How should we celebrate Star Wars Day? Uhm... what about a ride along some italian Disney "parodies" of Star Wars? And I use quotation marks 'cause, it'll probably surprise you but, as of today, there is no real Disney parody of Star Wars.

There are, though, many stories that draw inspiration from some elements of Lucas' saga, starting from "Topolino e la spada di ghiaccio" (1984) amazing fantasy saga by Massimo de Vita that has nothing to do with Star Wars but gives us the first Disney character whose design's been heavily inspired by Darth Vader: the evil Prince of Mists!

The nefarious Prince of Mists from "Topolino e la spada di ghiaccio".

Scattered throughout the years there are many other stories inspired by Star Wars from Silvia Ziche's Topokolossal (1997):

Mickey Skyrunner weilds his legendary catalytic baguette as he faces off Pietro Galactus.

up to "Paperoga eroe dello spazio" (2013) a splendid, touching story by Roberto Gagnor and Claudio Sciarrone that culminates in one of the best plot twists ever on Topolino's pages (this story is the dream of any Galactic Empire fan ���️).

Easy, Gorgius "heir" to Behlpost's throne... who do you think you are? Luke Skywalker? (Spoiler: you're not).

You may call it Behlpost, but that's Naboo royal palace for sure... with imperial guards as it seems 😁 (or are they forerunners of Operation Cinder sentinels? 🤔).

The only story (well, saga actually) that comes the most close to a real parody is Giorgio Pezzin's "Topolino e i signori della Galassia" (1991) which draws heavily inspiration from Star Wars expecially in the second episode.

The main character of this story is Goofy, who finds out to have inherited special powers from some old relative. Powers that make him the only one able to help the Galactic Confederation in their struggles against robots named "the Metals" led by general Titanio who seeks to eradicate every biological life form from the galaxy.

Jeez, Titanio's soldiers may be robots but their aim is as bad as Stormtroopers'... 🤣🤣

That's definitely the Battle of Hoth.

I know for sure there are also Star Wars inspired stories starring Josè Carioca out there, and McGreals' "May the farce be with you" (2005), but, unfortunately, I never had the chance to read them 'cause they've never been published in Italy.

But today's biggest obstacle to a Star Wars parody is Disney's auto-censorship. Yes, 'cause there's a strict rule at Disney that forbids authors to write parodies of other Disney franchises... so any parody of Star Wars (and Marvel) it's a very loud no-no. Sad :'(

We do know, though, that there are at least three finished legit parodies that never saw the light of day. One by Francesco Artibani that was supposed to be published on Topolino and two made-in-Egmont drawn by Cavazzano and Freccero.

Of the latter we can appreciate a beautiful illustration and a single page thanks to Freccero sharing them online a few years ago:

Alas, unless Disney change their internal directives (and there's no way it's gonna happen anytime soon) we'll never get the chance to see these or any other Star Wars inspired story in the near future.

But we can sure appreciate the older ones and if you wanna indulge yourself in something different today... these are the stories you're looking for ;)

May the Force be with you!

(And LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!!! 💪)

[betabites]

(Descriptions in alt-texts)

Generally, painting terrain isn't interesting, just tedious. Case in point, I didn't even bother taking pictures of the wattle fencing I just painted because no one cares. It looks fine from 3 feet, and that's all that matters. So this was an attempt to making this terrain interesting: I printed out a punch of tiny posters and glued them on, and added pop colors to a few of them.

And then I kind of painted the RWBY mural from RWBY Beyond. Special thanks to @sedlex for their work in getting a reasonably straight-angle of the mural.

Extremely long list of poster sources after the cut.

Round hut:

The Cube is a Lie! by Raven Cruz (vanished off the internet)

Perfect Food Egg from Ryoko Kui's Delicious In Dungeon.

Brouha on Mustafar & Hooha on the Death Star from NRobinson77.

Obama-style Luke and Dalek are most likely the result of one of poster-creators back in the day, because I can't find any trace of them.

Concern Necron from RuoYuArt.

Do Not Feed Metroids from Shinaz (who was not the original creator either, but we're already back in '05).

Square hut:

Dalek 'To Victory': Doctor Who official art, apparently.

Soldiers of the Imperium, Kill Team, and Makari's Wanted: Dead posters are all Warhammer 40K official artwork from the Regimental Standard.

Primaris Akira from Sgt-lonely

Hey, have you tried cheese? is so popular I literally had it as a tea towel.

Enlist Today (with Darth Vader, not that you can see that) by Cliff Chiang.

Actually yeah, maybe today Satan is a Nancy comic. Mercy only knows if it's a real comic or fanart, because I can't find it.

Commissar 'Do It For Him' is AdeptusRidiculous.

'Strawberry' B1-battle droid is cnv99.

Death Star Gunner pin-up is Adam Warren.

Asami eyeing Korra's rack is IAHFY (who is amazing).

Annoyingly placed 'Game Over' Cinder Fall is MrOrbs.

'I apologize for nothing' Hedonism-Bot was from etsy Woodcut Emporium (now gone).

France-Destroyer 9000 is from Borghest.

Quark's Root Beer is from Maggie Muldoon (it's insidious!).

Cantina:

The tiny dwarf is from the Dwarf Fortress community.

'We Do Bones Motherfucker' is from lunglessart.

Korra Vs Tahno is from Janet Sung.

Korra 'Change' and Sororitas 'Hate' are likely more poster-creator products.

The Mechanicus poster underneath the Korra poster and 'Join the Astrum Militarum Today!' are from WarCom's Regimental Standard.

Mordred's 'Welcome Back... Assface!' is from Tamamita.

Kuat Drive Yards is official art from Star Wars Insider 86.

No Shields, All Guts from gattadonna.

'We are short-staffed... this place is not a place of honor' was a photo from (presumably) a store window.

[blankfairy]

WIP Wednesday

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

i got tagged by @rainwingmarvel7,, tysm!! :D (i'm just gonna post an excerpt bc it's more fun tee hee)

“Jacaerys and Lucerys,” he affirmed. His voice never rose above a whisper, distant and crackly like the ancient oak in the godswood. “I wish they were dead.” A dreadful taste thickened in Alicent’s throat, dripping low into her belly and settling there like a pit. This was not her doing, surely? She spoke ill of Rhaenyra’s sons often, perhaps more than she ought to in front of Larys’ boy, but such a young, tempered spirit couldn’t have conjured up an idea like that himself… She placed a firm hand on Trystane’s shoulder, steadying herself, and pulled him to face her. He swayed with the force of her touch, but did not fight. “You cannot say such things, sweet boy.” Her words were a murmur, yet sharper than she liked. It was necessary, Alicent told herself; he couldn’t go around speaking about these sorts of things without any sense of caution. “Jace and Luke are…” “Harwin is supposed to be my kin,” Trystane interupted. “He’s supposed to care about me when my father doesn’t. Right?” Alicent took a deep, measured breath. Mother, guide me. “It’s an unkind thing to say.” Luke squealed something in an excited tone, teasing; Aemond bit back with the swish of his wooden sword and a maligned insult. The beds of Alicent’s fingernails itched viciously. “Promise me you won’t say it again.” “Is it?” Trystane tilted his head. His eyes were wide, irises as depthless and blue as the Blackwater itself. “They’re going to die, anyways. They stink of it. Blood and sea salt and cinder. If they got it over with, I could have Uncle Harwin, and mayhaps grandfather would—”

no pressure tags!! @huramuna @dogboykennedy @paskalin @playlistashton @emilykaldwen