#terribly low quality sketch

[foxiboxvii]

Have another crappy and rough sketch of my oc

[thaliagracesgf]

i hail a cab with a goat, and make some questionable decisions at a party

next

author’s note: i want to make it, like, really, really, clear that this is not a fic glorifying sa or being a victim. what the reader goes through here is a horrible experience, one that’s happened to me and countless other women (and other people!!). this fic is for anyone who, in the words of rachel sennot in bottoms, has been “gray-area-d,” and felt completely lost afterwards, not knowing how to feel or what to think. this is one example of how you deserved to have been treated, and i’m sorry if this or something similar wasn’t your experience. 

content warnings: sexual assault (not graphic and not by luke! r is sort of tied down and has their shorts undone), violence (luke is not happy about this situation), alcohol (r is drunk), talking about it afterwards?, talking about monsters (on a regular pjo level), swearing. 

word count: 6.6k. i had a lot to say. so sorry.

this is the first fic i have written in a while, i hope you enjoy it!

⭑

seven a.m. in the camp half-blood dining pavilion saw the same faces every morning. you, silena beauregard, clarisse larue, and annabeth chase. your little group of friends spanned six years, at seventeen, fourteen, thirteen, and eleven, and your best friend, who had been off at college all year, made it eight. 

you didn’t remember becoming friends with silena and clarisse, although you figured hannah, your best friend and silena’s older half-sister, must have introduced you, and clarisse came along with her. 

you had met annabeth and hannah when you were just thirteen, when you had followed a friend to connecticut in the middle of pre-algebra. 

“do you understand any of this?” you whispered to grover. he gave you a look as if he had never seen a fraction before last week, and you sighed. your teacher, a kind old woman named ms. lucy, gave you a look. when she gave the class a new problem to work through, she came and knelt by your desk, looking over your shoulder at what you had managed so far. which was a whole lot of nothing, unless you included a sketch of grover that would make picasso proud. you shrunk sheepishly in your chair. 

you looked to your right, as if trying to see how bad it really was compared to your model, but he was gone. you turned back to ms. lucy. 

“did you see grover leave?” 

“hmm?”

“grover. did he go to the bathroom?”

“i assume so, dear. if you convert the decimal—" but grover’s things were gone. you felt terrible. you knew you were a terrible student, and ms. lucy was so kind to you anyways, but it wasn’t like grover to walk out of class like that. he was terrified of authority.

“i have to go,” you mumbled to ms. lucy, throwing your things in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “stomachache.” 

she looked genuinely concerned. “would you like me to let the nurses know you’re coming?”

“no… no. that’s okay.” and you ran out the door. 

it wasn’t too hard to find grover. he was sitting in an empty classroom just a few doors down, but what was weirder was that he was watching a video on the projector. weirder still, he was talking to it. you knew it was rude to eavesdrop. it didn’t stop you from doing it. 

“chiron, i can’t just leave. she’s here, and she’s in danger. she needs a protector. anything could come for her at any moment—" was he talking about you? 

a deep voice over the projector, whose face you could hardly make out through the low-quality image, answered: “i will inform her mother and she will go home. she will stay there until we can send gleeson to collect her and—"

“why can’t you send gleeson for these kids?” 

“he’s too far, it would take him a day at least to reach them. i already told you, this was a request from hermes himself. he wants his son and his friends collected as soon as possible, and—" 

who the hell was gleeson? and hermes… who names their kid after a greek god? at least choose one with a better name than hermes. it sounded like a disease. your mother had named your brother after some greek hero, but he didn’t go by it. and at least it was, like, a human name. 

“he’s the god of travelers.” you were starting to worry that grover might be on drugs. what on earth had they put in those enchiladas at lunch? “can’t he get him, like, a car? a day could be too long for—"

“grover.” the voice boomed. that shut him up. “you will go. you will escort the son of hermes, the daughter of athena, and the daughter of zeus to camp, and then you may return to the city. this is not up for discussion.” you were really starting to think that the booming voice might have been two booming voices, but the door was closed and the audio was already crackly, so you decided it didn’t really matter. 

you heard grover’s voice say, “alright,” defeated and almost mournful, and then the message cut off. your eyes widened as you realized that grover would probably step outside any second, and you would have no excuse as to what you were doing with your ear to the wall. you turned slowly, and winced as your shoe squeaked on the linoleum floor. you started speedwalking. no sense in trying to hide anymore, you were just interested in getting as far away as possible before-

“oh, gods.” grover’s voice echoed between cinder block walls and metal lockers. “how much did you hear?”

you turned, your fingers nervously twisting the straps of your backpack. “i mean. not everything. just. you know.”

“almost everything?”

“yeah.”

“this is not good. this is really not good.” grover wasn’t talking to you anymore. he was pacing the short ways of the corridor, head in his hands, muttering to himself. “my first mission and i’ve already messed it up completely.” 

“how could you have messed it up completely? you haven’t even met these kids yet.”

“oh, gods,” grover groaned.

“woah, dude. are you like, hindu or something?”

“what?”

“you said gods. plural. i read this book—"

“okay,” grover interrupted. “you need to go home.” 

“okay. that was rude. also, it’s like the middle of the day. my mom’s at work and my stepdad will kill me if i come home early.”

“your stepfather. perfect. just climb in the back window of your room, and when your mom gets home, tell her that chiron says you need to go to camp immediately.”

“what? what the hell are you talking about? who— is that who you were talking to on the phone?”

“what?”

“the phone call. the one you were mad at me for overhearing…”

“okay. first of all, that was not overhearing, that was eavesdropping. second of all, i’m not mad. this just complicates things slightly. third of all—"

“dude, you need to—" grover glared at me, and i shut up. 

“third of all,” he repeated, “that wasn’t a phone call. it was an iris message.”

“a what?”

“nevermind. not important. ask about it at camp.”

“why do you keep talking about a camp? i haven’t been to camp since music camp in second grade, and they don’t want me back. i was really, really, bad at the recorder.”

“you played the recorder?” grover looked suddenly very interested. “nevermind. you need to go home.”

“dude. i’m telling you, i. can’t.” 

“you have to—"

“take me to connecticut,” you suggested. 

“what?”

“isn’t that where you’re running off to?”

“you can’t come to connecticut with me—"

“why not? you seemed pretty adamant on the phone—"

“iris message”

“that you needed to be with ‘her’. based on how insanely you have freaked out, i’m guessing that was me. so take me with you.”

“i know you have no idea what is going on right now—"

“thank you for finally acknowledging that important part of this conversation.”

“- but taking you to connecticut would be an astronomically bad idea. like i-would-get-fired kind of bad idea.”

“you’re twelve. how on earth would you get fired? child labor laws are—"

“i’m nineteen.” 

you laughed at that one. “yeah, sure.” 

grover rolled his eyes. “look, i really, really, wish i could explain more, but i need to go. and i really, really need you to go home.”

“ok.”

“like really, really need you to listen—" he paused. “okay? great!”

“if it means that much to you, i’ll go home.” grover sighed with relief. 

he was eating his words. and a tin can he had picked up off the street. you had followed him out of the building, watched him call a cab, and then, at the last second, jumped in after him, slammed the door, and told the driver to drive before grover could figure out what was going on. 

after your initial panic, when you realized you were hurtling up fifth avenue at three-hundred miles per hour with three old ladies behind the wheel, you had straightened yourself out, and made grover explain everything. he had, reluctantly, when he came to terms with the fact that you were in too deep to back out now.  

he explained camp, the greek (not hindu) gods, and the ladies in the front (who had one eye between them) were very helpful about filling in the details. so, so many details. he explained that he didn’t know who your parent was, just that you were powerful, and that he was planning on asking your mom before everything went up in flames.  

he explained that he was going to connecticut to escort three (now four) demigods to camp half-blood, and that they would likely be tailed by monsters the entire way back. four demigods as powerful as you, and one forbidden child — a child of zeus, poseidon, or hades, as he had mentioned — would attract a lot of attention. 

and you did. it took you a month to get to camp after you found thalia, luke, and annabeth, constantly being thrown off course by monsters, over which you got to know them better than any friends you’d had in your life (with the exception of maybe grover and your little brother). your mother was worried sick, but you iris-messaged her (grover finally got through on that one) every so often, letting her know you were okay. she was surprisingly understanding about camp. she apologized that she hadn’t been the one to take you herself, and that she had been forced to hide the truth from you for so long. the calls always ended though, when she tried to tell you who your father was. the water would shut off suddenly, the rainbow disappearing along with your mother, so you learned to avoid the topic if you wanted to continue talking. 

when thalia died, you were in shock. you sat at the edge of long island sound at camp for three days, staring into the ocean. you didn’t speak, even when you were claimed, as you sat, by your father, poseidon, and shuffled your things from the hermes cabin into cabin three. it was just another loss — you could no longer sleep in the bed next to luke’s. there were no familiar faces in cabin three — no faces at all. you were completely alone. 

eventually, an older aphrodite girl came by the cabin. she introduced herself as hannah, and she showed you around camp, forced you to sit with her and her siblings at dinner, dealing with chiron and mr. d’s disgruntlement herself, and at the campfire. she dragged you to the center of the amphitheater, dancing slowly at first, and then faster, until you were laughing and finding luke and annabeth in the crowd and dragging them to dance as well. 

you missed hannah so much. she wasn’t that far, a first year at barnard this fall, where you would hopefully be in a couple of years. you weren’t ready for college yet, you thought, so you would take a gap year (though you hadn’t been in school for years) and stay at camp, while chiron would help you convince the admissions committee (using the mist) that you had a perfect gpa, excellent extracurricular activities, and a stellar recommendation letter from a highly admired ancient greek scholar by the name of professor c. brunner.  

sitting at breakfast with you was probably miserable, you could admit. you were counting down the days until hannah came back, and your friends were definitely tired of it. but for some reason, this morning silena was practically jumping up and down with something. 

“will you stop?” you asked. “you’re shaking the entire table.” 

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” she seemed sincere in her apology. “i just— oh, you’ll see.”

you didn’t see, in fact, as someone jumped out from behind you and wrapped their arms around your head, their sweatshirt covering your eyes. “who—" you started, before you got a whiff of lavender-vanilla perfume and jumped up from the table. 

hannah. you shrieked, probably waking up half the camp. you spun around and tackled her to the ground, hugging her so tightly you would probably cut off her circulation. 

she pushed you off, laughing, and got to her feet. “it’s good to see you too, babe. what’s up with all of you? you never call, i feel like i’ve been completely cut off.” (you had iris-messaged her last week for five hours). 

“your sister is still absolutely obsessed with beckendorf,” you said, sitting down.

“hey!” silena protested.

“but of course he has no idea that he likes her.” silena turned pink. “no one here is good enough for annabeth, obviously—"

“i never said that, clarisse doesn’t let any boys near me.” you stick your tongue out at her. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” clarisse said, feigning obliviousness. “you hang out with luke all the time.”

“he’s always hanging out with that new kid.” she grumbled. “or—"

“speaking of, clarisse definitely thinks this hermes boy is so cute— you haven’t met him, he got here a few months ago, but his name is chris, and i think they would be so cute together. she’s out of everyone’s league, obviously, but if anyone would be good for her—" 

“gods, you would think you’re the aphrodite kid, listening to you.” hannah smiled. she stole a bite of your french toast. 

“i’m just excited to see you,” you said, laying your head on her shoulder. silena and clarisse smirked. 

“she’s leaving somebody out here,” silena said, smiling. 

“i know, it’s weird, she never shuts up about him otherwise,” clarisse added, narrowing her eyes at you teasingly. 

“oh, who could you possibly be talking about?” hannah twirled a piece of hair. she hasn’t even been here, but one doesn’t forget their best friend’s crush of four years in a few months. 

“i do not,” you protested meekly. 

“you knew who we were talking about, though” 

“i spend a lot of time with him, that’s all. there would be a gaping hole if i told you about my day and didn’t bring him up.”

“would you stop pretending as if you aren’t in love with each other, please?” annabeth interrupted. “you’re worse than them, at least they can admit it.” she gestured at clarisse and silena. 

“i am not in love with him, annabeth.”

“you’re always starting at him.”

“i’m in conversation.”

“with your eyes. that is literally textbook romance.” 

“i could so admit if i was into him,” you say, cutting her off. “i admit things like that all the time. i told you i thought jack was cute. you know that kid from demeter?”

“we all know you made that up,” annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest. silena gave her a light push. 

“don’t be so quick to accuse, annie.” only you and silena ever called her that. “i don’t think she made it up. i just don’t think she’s as into him as she is into him.”

“would you drop it, about luke, please?”

“hey, you said his name, not me,” silena smiled. “but sure. i don’t believe that you’re not into him, but i’ll drop it if you can prove that he isn’t into you.”

your heart sank. you weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought. hannah’s hand rested on your knee, as if she could sense it. 

“how am i supposed to do that? i can’t read minds.” 

“hook up with jack at the campfire.”

“what?”

“flirt with him! you were just talking the other day about how you’re eighteen and you haven’t even had sex yet.” hannah covered annabeth’s ears, to which she shoved her off and glared. “jack’s, like, really hot. i saw you staring the other day.”

“when luke wasn’t around,” annabeth added, one eyebrow raised.

“you want me to have sex with jack?” 

“i’m not saying that. just flirt with him. see what happens. we’ll— she gestured between herself, clarisse, annabeth and hannah— see how luke is doing.” 

“okay, he isn’t going to be doing anything,” you said. “i don’t see what this accomplishes.” but even as you were saying it, your mind betrayed you. you thought for a second and conjured an image of strong arms holding you, soft lips kissing yours with the bonfire light in the background. maybe you were near the beach.

“we’ll see,” silena smiled. 

you didn’t want to go all the way, or anything. you knew that. but… jack was really hot. and sweet. he was always catching little kids falling off of obstacle courses with soft bushes, and growing them flower crowns. it couldn’t hurt to talk to him, see what happened. maybe he’d ask you out, or something. bring you flowers on a date. and you guessed you wouldn’t mind making out with him. 

the campfire roared in the middle of the amphitheater. the only people there were the older campers, and some counselors trickling back in from tucking kids into bed. you had helped luke with the hermes cabin, because he had so many kids to take care of, and you had none. 

you pulled the covers over katie, a girl a little younger than annabeth, who had gotten to camp a few months ago. she was still unclaimed, but with the way she spent all day in the strawberry fields, and the plants tended to shoot up around her, you were fairly sure where she belonged. 

you kissed the top of her head, and stood up, looking around the dark cabin for luke, seeing him kneeling beside a little boy, probably about the same age as katie. the boy sounded like he was crying. 

 “hey, connor,” luke whispered, rubbing circles on the kid’s back. “it’s okay. it’s okay. i get them too.” you realized that the boy must have been afraid to fall asleep. “travis is right above you, he’ll protect you, okay? nothing bad can happen to you here.”

he looked over at you, before turning back to connor. “and we can play poker tomorrow, you’re getting pretty good.”

“are you leaving?” the boy whispered, choking a bit on his tears.

“just for a little bit, kid. i’ll be back soon, i promise. i’ll be here when you wake up. i’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

“okay,” the boy mumbled. luke pulled the covers over his shoulders, and ruffled his hair before turning to you. 

“let’s go,” he mouthed, gesturing at the door. the two of you crept outside, luke much more stealthily than you, closing the door silently. “god of thieves,” he shrugged, but he didn’t grin as he usually did when he bragged. you didn’t have to ask why, but you played along. 

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “can we go now?”

“yeah, ‘course,” he said. he slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him as you walked, and you couldn’t help but think of silena’s words as you rested your head on his chest.

arriving back at the campfire, you pulled yourself away from luke, walking over to hannah. she smirked at you, pulling you in for a hug. 

“you don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. 

“i know,” you replied. “i want to. he’s cute.” 

and he was, you thought, as he led you away from the campfire. you’d sat for an hour, letting the flames dance over your skin as you talked with him. he made you laugh, even blush when he grew a flower out of the stone to tuck behind your ear. when he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, you felt dizzy, though that might have been the alcohol. 

as you walked further away from the amphitheater, you spun around in the grass, laughing, and he laughed with you. or at you? you couldn’t really tell, and you didn’t really care. you just wanted to kiss him. you didn’t notice that you weren’t heading near the cabins until he stopped in a little cove at the edge of the forest. 

“why are we here?” you asked, a little dazed. 

“come on,” he said. “you know why.” 

and then he was kissing you. it was messy, and made you kind of uncomfortable, but you told yourself to get over it. you couldn’t expect it to live up to the time luke had kissed you, on a dare, when you were thirteen. nothing would ever live up to that, because you couldn’t have him. he hadn’t even cared when you had left him at the party, talking up some girl you couldn’t really see on the other side of the fire.

you blinked, pulling away from jack. you hadn’t realized as you were thinking it, but you had admitted to yourself for the first time that yes: you did want luke. really, really, wanted him. you pushed back on jack lightly. 

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i can do this right now,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie — luke’s hoodie, that he had given you that night after he kissed you, when you were shivering outside, staring into space because you couldn’t understand what you were feeling. 

“come on, it’s fine,” jack replied, pulling you back into his arms. they weren’t like the arms you were picturing earlier. no, you could admit to yourself new that those had been luke’s. your mind was reeling— you knew that you couldn’t have him, that he would never like you like you liked him, but kissing jack felt wrong. not that you had really been kissing him back. 

“i want to go home,” you said, and you weren’t sure where you meant. back to the campfire, to luke and hannah, back to your cabin? maybe even back to your mom on the upper east side, who you missed every day but couldn’t live with during the year for the sake of your little brother, who was too young to know that he, too, was a son of poseidon. 

“really? you were flirting with me all night,” jack mumbled into your lips. “stay a little longer.” it was true, you had been flirting with him. you figured you could at least make out with him for a bit. you resigned, letting him lower you onto the grass, and reluctantly letting him run his hands along the hem of your shirt. 

hannah was getting worried, and luke could tell. he had forced himself off when you were clearly interested in that demeter guy, who luke knew and was friends with but suddenly hated with all his guts. he had forced himself to be interested in getting the details on silena and beckendorf, which he didn’t really realize he was getting to share with you later, resigning to glancing too often through the flames of the fire at your face, and the way the flames made you look like a goddess. no, he thought. you always looked like a goddess. 

but hannah, who had just arrived back at camp for the summer that morning, was biting her lip, and looking around with a bothered expression on her face, and luke had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he needed to know you were safe immediately. 

he walked over to hannah, probably too quickly, and didn’t waste time asking how she was, or how college had been. “where is she?” he demanded, too forcefully. he would have to apologize to hannah later, but he only had one thing on his mind.“what’s wrong?”

“oh. hey, luke,” she said, still in a sort of trance. he snapped his finger away from her face, shaking his head.

“hannah? where is she?” 

she shook her head and widened her eyes. it was clear to luke that you had picked up that habit of staring out at nothing when you were deep in thought, usually not about pleasant things. “she’s with jack,” she said. “they left a little while ago. i just… i don’t know. i should go check that she’s back at her cabin by now.” 

“yeah, yeah we should,” luke grumbled, and started taking the steps out of the theater two at a time in an effort to get out. hannah followed— you had told him that his stress could be contagious. 

you weren’t in your cabin. you weren’t in the demeter cabin either, and the pair of them woke up a bunch of kids as you barged in, which he was sure mr. d would have a lot to say about in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

he ran across the basketball court, hannah close behind. 

“i have an idea of where they might be,” hannah said, pointing in the direction of the woods.

“how do you know?” 

“because i showed jack that spot when we were fourteen,” she said, grumbling. luke clearly wasn’t the only one who cared about you. 

“i thought you were gay?” luke questioned, not slowing down. 

“yeah. like i said, fourteen. people explore things, figure themselves out.” gods, she thought, men could be so incredibly stupid. 

they ran faster than ever to the edge of the woods, where sure enough, they found you, lying on a mossy stone with jack hovering over you. luke wanted to run to you immediately, but hannah held him back — no easy feat, but she managed. 

“hold on, romeo,” she strained. “you can’t just barge in there and—” then she heard it— the unmistakable sound of your voice, and the word stop.

“jack…” you mumbled. you were so drunk. you weren’t sure where you were anymore, and you didn’t really remember walking over here, though you knew you had. “jack, we can do this later, i’m tired—” 

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” he said quietly, starting to undo the zipper of your shorts. you reached down to stop him, but he pushed your hand away, and as it hit the stone, moss started growing over it, holding it there. 

“jack, stop it,” you said, more forcefully this time. you realized that he didn’t even know what he was doing, and for some reason that scared you more. he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he wanted it— he wanted you held down, and he didn’t care that you didn’t. 

he shushed you, but looked up at a rustling in the trees, and a familiar grunt. 

luke broke out of hannah’s arms, but it didn’t really matter, because she had been letting him go anyways. he stormed across the clearing, and while you were still dazed and confused, you couldn’t miss the entirety of jack’s weight being ripped from on top of you, and you thought you saw a fist collide with his face. 

hannah, however, rushed to your side. she didn’t particularly want to see luke end up bloody and beaten in the infirmary, but she had bigger fish to fry right now: namely, you. she tore up the moss, no longer strong as jack’s focus was elsewhere, and redid your shorts for you. there were tears on your face as she pulled you to your feet. 

there was so much noise. jack was shouting at luke, but you couldn’t make out the words. you could hear the music and the gleeful sounds of counselors from the amphitheater, but it seemed worlds away from you. 

as hannah led you out of the woods, much faster than you could really manage, your head began to pound behind your eyes. a splitting pain hit your forehead, and your vision went black and spotty. you stumbled forward, relying entirely on hannah to keep you upright, but one stray tree root took you down. you swam between consciousness and a dark, dark sleep. there was screaming, it was hannah, and then the familiar deep voice of clarisse, barking orders. you thought you heard annabeth’s name, and then two strong sets of arms lifting you up, and carrying you away. 

you woke up at the bottom of the sea. no. that wasn’t right. the bottom of the sea was soft, covered in mud and sand. you tried to stretch your body, hitting plastic walls. as your eyes focused, you could make out cartoon fish swimming entirely too close to your face, and you sat up with a start, splashing water all over a corner of the infirmary. 

a kiddie pool. they had filled a kiddie pool with salt water, and left you in it overnight to soak, like one of those colorful dinosaur toys that grew in water. and the worst part was that it seemed to have worked. you felt brand new, like you had slept for a hundred years, and at the same time followed a very strict workout regimen, taken a juice cleanse and eaten like a king. you groaned, and slipped back under the water. 

you stared at the ceiling, watching wooden beams ripple with the surface of your personal ocean. you wondered if your father ever felt like this is in the pacific, if he could be that big if he wanted to. your camp necklace floated up before your face, crossing a familiar face lurking over you. 

you sat up. cara fletcher, hannah’s friend, held out some nectar. you shook your head. 

“i’m okay.”

she raised an eyebrow. 

“fine,” you sighed, taking the flask and drinking. it did help. you felt like you could take on the minotaur. 

“your friends were here all night,” she said. i kicked them out around ten because they were falling asleep on each other, and i didn’t need any more cracked skulls when they fell off the stools. 

“more?” you asked. she sighed, looking over her shoulder. 

“your boyfriend beat that kid up pretty bad last night,” she said. you didn’t see jack lying on any of the cots, but a head of dark curls lay a few beds down, and the body attached to it did not look to be in great shape.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you answered quickly, not taking your eyes off of luke. “is he okay?”

cara seemed to make out which he’s you were referring to. “i wasn’t talking about him,” she said. “hannah told me what happened. if you ask me, luke didn’t do nearly enough damage.” 

“don’t tell him that,” you said. “and he’s also not my boyfriend,” you added as you processed her words fully. 

“not yet, he’s not.” hannah said, strolling in with three bagels in hand.

“i thought i told you to go to bed,” cara scolded, taking her bagel. “you’re going to drop dead one of these days.” hannah smiled, ignoring her as he sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

you glance between them, ideas churning in your mind, but they were quickly interrupted by the bagel being shoved in your face. you had always thought that the harpies must have spent some time in the city— they made a dam good bagel.  

“so.” hannah started. “you are going to tell us everything you’re thinking right now, because i see you looking over at him every two seconds, and don’t think you’re getting out of any of it.”

“i’m eating,” you grumbled. hannah reached to snatch the bagel away, but cara swatted her hand back. 

“she’s recovering.” you stuck your tongue out at hannah. 

“i don’t care,” hannah said. “spill.” 

“look, i don’t even know what happened last night—” 

“because you were really, really, drunk,” she interrupted. 

“do you want me to speak or not?” you demanded. 

“okay. fine. but just so you’re aware, he swooped in and defended you, and beat the shit out of that little asshole, who, just between us, mr. d is fucking fuming with.” trust hannah to get distracted two seconds in. demigod adhd was no joke. “he dragged him to the big house this morning himself, severe concussion and all, and according to lee, chewed him out for about an hour. something about the sanctity of drunkenness and how it is not to be weaponized… even chiron was surprised.” she paused for breath. 

“anyways, the point stands— he,” she nodded her head at luke, “was quite literally your knight in shining armor, and if you still don’t think he is absolutely enamored with you—” and you were pretty sure you heard a cot creak— “then i swear on my mother i will call her down and force her to do something about this because i cannot take it any longer.” 

“he was just being a good person, hannah,” you muttered. “he’s just like that.” 

hannah looked as though she were about to scream, but cara rubbed her hand along her thigh, calming her before she spoke herself. 

“there’s something more than that, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and you thought she was staring directly into your soul. “there’s a reason you don’t think he likes you.”

you hesitated, splashing the water around in your pool and making eye contact with a cartoon fish as you worked up the courage to say what it was you knew you had to get off your chest.

“before last night,” you started, your voice cracking as you spoke, “it was just me thinking i wasn’t pretty enough, or good enough for him. that he wouldn’t look at me because there are so many other girls at this camp who are obsessed with him. and i don't think i realized that i liked him either. but now…” a sob came from the back of your throat, and you looked up at hannah, tears streaking your red face. 

“why would he want me now?” you sobbed.

“hey. stop that,” hannah started. “what jack did to you wasn’t your fault, and everyone knows that.” she was trying to make you feel better, but the news that your pathetic love life was the talk of camp wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“it was, though,” you said quietly. “i led him on. i never told him no that strongly, and i was flirting with him all night. what reason did he have not to think… not to…” you were hyperventilating now, your words coming out in broken syllables. 

“i’m a fucking slut, and now everyone knows it,” you managed. you sank back into the water to slow your breathing, but tears still streamed down your face. 

“that’s bullshit,” came a voice from elsewhere in the infirmary. you could have thrown up then and there. you pulled yourself up by the walls of the kiddie pool, looking down the aisle as luke castellan limped towards you. his scarred eye was bruised and bloodshot, and he had a massive scrape running up his left arm, and that was just what you could see. the tears began to fall faster. 

“luke…” 

you were thirteen years old again, at the top of half-blood hill, holding grover upright. you were watching desperately as he stumbled upward, through the pouring rain, carrying a screaming little girl who was trying with all her might to run back and help her friend. all four of you were sobbing, exhausted and beaten. seeing them all like that was ten times more painful than the gash in your side. 

“that’s bullshit,” luke repeated. you got up from the pool and held his face in your hand, inspecting the bruise. you took the rest of the nectar cara had given you, holding it to his lips, but he pushed it away. “you’re not a slut,” he said. suddenly everything about your conversation came rushing back to you, and it hit you that you had just admitted to him that you were in love with him. 

you turned your head. hannah and cara were gone, slipped out the back door. you turned back to face luke, face red and tears pouring over your skin.

“that wasn’t your fault. you didn’t owe him anything. he‘s disgusting, and deserves to have his fucking dick cut off.” you laugh, despite everything. 

“i think mr. d may have actually taken care of that,” you whispered. 

“good.” you looked at him for a while. his eyes were so beautiful, a deep, deep, brown that reminds you of the otters that hung mysteriously around your upper east side apartment when you lived in the city.   

“why did you have to fight him?” you asked, reaching up to his face again. 

“you were in trouble,” he said. 

“luke.” the tears were threatening to fall again. “you could have seriously hurt yourself. i just… why? why not just pull him off of me?” you needed an answer. you needed to know why, why on earth he had put so much of himself in front of you, in front of jack’s fists.

he looked down at you, a pained expression on his face. “you know why,” he whispered. 

he looked down at your lips, and you shook your head softly. you looked down at your feet. you were so afraid, afraid that he wouldn’t be interested now that you didn’t want… that. from him. yet— that you considered looking up and letting him kiss you.

he shocked you when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, holding the back of your head into the space between his chest and his shoulder. 

“okay,” he whispered. “that’s okay.” then, softer. “i love you.”

you couldn’t say it back. not yet, not now. but you held him tighter, holding on to him like he was the only thing stopping you from falling into tartarus. 

“i’ll be here forever,” he spoke into your hair. and you believed him. 

the hermes cabin hosted a movie night that night. you were watching the incredibles two, at a request from connor stoll, who was currently involved in an intense argument with annabeth over which installment was better.  

“i think i’m going to start calling you that,” luke whispered in your ear. “jack-jack.” you glared at him. “‘cause, you know, your last name’s jackson-” 

“yeah, dude, i got the joke,” you said. you rolled your eyes, nuzzling your head into his chest. you could stay like this for a while, you thought, and as you closed your eyes, you felt him press a kiss to your head — something you had told him was okay. you couldn’t wait to bring him home for a weekend. maybe annabeth, too. you couldn’t help but think she would get along great with your brother.

⭑

a/n: hello loves! i hope you enjoyed this, please please leave any feedback or anything, and let me know if you would like me to continue this story/write more of luke and the reader's past. i hope people enjoyed the little hints at percy! so excited for this reader and to explore all her relationships.

[ronearoundblindly]

For my favorite Steve 🥰💙🖤 (Fools Rush In)

29. Describe their nighttime routine.

30. What are their respective love languages? Do their love languages work well together?

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

Questions are from this ask game and about this post-Endgame AU with Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader.

29

There's no TV in your shared apartment because there are so, so many monitors on the compound. Steve likes some peace and quiet, to listen to records or the radio, or simply to read. Nighttime offers less drawing inspiration than daylight outdoors, but occasionally he'll putter with some sketching. That's harder to do while sitting right beside you on the couch, or while you lay with your head in his lap (and vice versa). Even if Steve reads, he has one hand on you, resting. In fact, he particularly enjoys books on tape because you two can snuggle and just relax.

This is your time to chat about the day, too, but since not everyday is very exciting, being present is enough.

All that is done in the living room because Steve is a bit of a purist in what you do where. Eat at the table. Relax on the couch. Sleep in the bed. Do not eat in the bed; that's not what it's for. Weird old fart...

It's fine to get sleepy on the couch, but it's very rare to stay asleep there all night.

For the most part, bedtime routines in the bathroom are separate. There's a His & Her's sink in the master bath, so if that's all anyone needs, you brush teeth and wash face side-by-side.

Steve starts out laying on his back with you curled up against his chest and hip. He does progressive relaxation to force his muscles to release tension from the day. He's so bulky now that this is crucial. It helps elongate his spine so when he does turn over to spoon you, Steve is properly gelatinous to mold around the back of your body.

Sometimes, if Steve can tell you're not asleep yet, he'll start humming your song, and he enjoys that he can hear your smile when you chuckle and wiggle deeper into his hold.

He runs hot, so Steve prefers a fan on in the bedroom which serves as low, white noise. He doesn't mind if you need a thicker blanket, however, he just mostly likes the air circulation.

30

If it's not obvious from Steve's nighttime routine, his love language is quality time. He appreciates the quiet moments you spend with him more than most celebrations. Time is precious to Steve Rogers. He understands its value. You giving him your time means everything.

(Not trying to make assumptions about every reader's love language, but I'm gonna wing it for Keeps.)

You thrive on words of affirmation, and Steve becomes better and better at communicating. He starts out so guarded because of the life he leads: his job is acts of service, he doesn't experience physical touch like other, he's...sorta terrible at gift giving, and Steve is being watched and listened to constantly. He's leery of everyone and everything. F.R.I.D.A.Y's everywhere--worse than J.A.R.V.I.S was--which takes a lot of getting used to.

He gets better, though. Steve has had to get comfortable with a lot of new-to-him behaviors. Not that he wouldn't have been nice and communicative with a girlfriend in the '40s, but he never had a girlfriend before. He's had zero practice, and at first, he's very awkward. Eventually, the words come easily, albeit always softly in public. He hates the idea of anyone else being in your relationship. They're there anyway.

Fools's Steve says "I love you" to you often, but the words have about three thousand variations of intonation and subtext, from playful to pissy. If you aren't alone, it's usually whispered.

Other than that, Steve not only tells you how lovely you look--even when you don't feel beautiful--but annoyingly and obviously means it every single time. You can see it in his eyes and his body language. It took a while to accept that he truly loves you and finds you beautiful. Your mind fought against accepting that. You were convinced by his every hesitation that it meant he couldn't possibly love you, but that wasn't true. That's not what was going on.

Steve took a while to sift through his feelings and hangups, but the question was never whether he loved you or was attracted to you. He worried whether or not he could be the partner he wanted to be to the right person.

38

Technically...Steve???? This one's a little complicated.

You get truly angry only after something has been stewing for a long time. Consistent, tiny annoyances or frustrating behaviors eventually boil to the surface in infrequent rages.

Steve, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber until the most random, damndest things just 🫰🏼set him off. He's a cheeky bastard when his feathers are rumpled the wrong way. It's odd and totally hilarious.

He spends so much time as Cap letting everything just roll off his back like a duck in water. He has to go with the flow. He can only control himself and what he does in the future. He gives orders, yes, but humans err; Steve understands that maybe nothing he plans will go correctly. He's prepared for that.

But...what Steve isn't prepared for is people putting a vinyl record in the wrong dust jacket with no indication as to where the correct one will be. What kind of imbecile-- He can't stand his to-go order being totally opposite what it's supposed to be because seriously he didn't even make any substitutions! And absolutely hysterically, he can't handle there not being a 'wet floor' sign when the very shiny floors happen to be very slippery.

For a big man, Steve falls hard.

He got some great height though... Spun nearly 200 degrees mid-air before flopping the landing and bouncing against the far wall. Spectacularly funny when you know he isn't hurt. It's not even a pride or ego ding for Steve; he's simply furious that someone not-him could have been the one to slip.

So yeah, technically Steve has the quicker temper, but his anger lasts less time than yours.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg

@georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza  @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain

[me-only-me01]

Some low quality sketch about Alex and Basil-

Two months ago my dog died and I had a horrible time, while I was rewatching the scene where Alex parents are telling him about Basil dead I kinda feel bad for Alex becouse I know what is like to lose your pet, so I made this sketch-

I like to think that Alex found Basil in a house he was robbing and for him it was "love at first sight".

The relationship between Alex and Basil is so precious, we see nothing, but I like it :D

(You can repost but give me credits)

They are terrible- but they made their job

[kunaikiarasomeone]

TADC sketch/doodle dump kdkskdjsk,,, too much brainrot

These were made throughout Oct2023 to May from this year :)) Order is from newest to oldest

Just thought I'd post these somewhere! they were very fun to make, also I'm very proud of the first one <3 they look so goofy help ldkskdjs Definitely don't have any favorite characters no sir-ree..

That black blorbo skeleton plush thing is my tadc sona, Kellie :> will post some refs of them one day, still indecisive about some things,,

(sorry for the low quality of the photos I'm terrible at taking them T'T)

[oxygen-stealer]

I've got many many thoughts on resurrected Terzo :)))

More sketches and LOTS of headcanons below the cut

(Click for better quality btw)

So to start my explanation of how he could've even been brought back in the first place is because- yknow that hammer they hit head popes with to make sure they're dead? Yeah well the people embalming him didn't do that because he was decapitated and they figured that was probably a good indication that he was actually dead.

Well later on, The Clergy is starting to get a bit nervous with all of the power Copia seems to be growing into and they're looking for a plan B despite being out of heirs. Commence resurrection.

Upon first being revived, Terzo immediately lashes out, catching Sister Imperator with his claws. He's literally been in hell for five years and it shows in the fear on his face.

His skin is paler, greener. He smells of formaldehyde, his head is hastily stitched on his neck. Being in hell has also embedded slight demonic energy into him, it seems like the world warps around him, like his power leeches into the ground he walks on. He has flashes of his memories of hell but he generally tries not to think about it.

Now I also want you to imagine this:

Imagine you're a guy in a very high position of power that never really feels like he's good enough, then eventually you're forcibly retired and killed for not being good enough by people that should technically be below you and your asshole dad. Then suddenly you're dragged out of your glorious afterlife in hell because those same bozos want you to replace your absolute sweetheart younger brother (he's actually your brother now too???) because they also maybe want to kill him. And to top it all off your favorite ghoul was tossed back into the Pit like he was nothing right after you died.

You'd be pissed off right? Yeah well that's where Terzo is at.

All of his usual charm and whimsy takes a backseat for a low burning rage. He doesn't bother giving any of the siblings of sin the time of day anymore. The Clergy quickly recognizes that this was a terrible idea because this guy hates them even more than he did before and is one more situation away from snapping and taking someone back to hell with him. Maybe Copia, even as the antichrist, wasn't actually that bad.

Regardless, Terzo reluctantly becomes Papa again through some loopholes regarding living papas and what not. His new album takes a significantly darker, angrier tone than any other. Imagine the darker sounds of Cirice through most of the album. I'd argue that kinda darkness was very much present in Meliora but even that had some zest for life within it. Now, like, this music is made by a guy that literally died horribly and went to hell. This album is haunting.

During rituals he tries to kinda act like his old self because he does love his fans but you can kinda tell it's not the same ("heeyyy guyyyys I'm back :))" *barely contained rage*). You can also tell all of the ghouls are quite a bit more on edge than they were with Copia, you can cut the tension with a knife.

(The ghouls are not really concerned about Terzo himself, but rather what it means for Copia and themselves. They're concerned that the clergy's trying really hard to throw them all out. Which they are. Also none of these ghouls have really been around the other Papas, and they know Copia has been unusually friendly with them, so they're a bit weary about acting wildly as they usually would)

Really there are only two people Terzo isn't mad at. First, probably the only benefit of all of this in his mind is getting to see Copia again and getting to witness how much his awkward little brother (they actually were brothers too! He jokes he that he always knew it) has really grown into his skin as Papa. They catch up for hours, Terzo meets Copia's ghouls, they talk about his music, they talk shit about Nihil, reminisce, etc. It's been the one good thing about all of this. Terzo is heartbroken that he was taking Copia out of the spotlight because it seemed like he had grown into it so well.

And the other of course is Omega. Apparently, all of Terzo's ghouls had been thrown back into the pit almost the same day he'd died, but it was believed that Omega himself had killed a sibling of sin beforehand and left their body as an omen, greatly straining the relationship between the ministry and ghouls as a whole. Despite this, Terzo doesn't once stop asking for him. If they're going to bring him back they could've at least had the foresight to give him any kind of motivation to stay. He'll summon him himself if he needs to dammit.

In all honesty he misses him and the rest of his ghouls dearly. You'd think they'd be able to be together in hell but the reality is the different layers of hell aren't actually something most are meant to pass through unless you're a 13th century italian poet. So Terzo really hasn't seen any of them since he was alive and it weighs heavily on him. He knows wanting to summon Omega again is probably selfish and that his time back on earth is likely to be very limited, but he finds it difficult to think of anything else. (Omega would be thrilled, but the ache of being left again would still linger. He should've stopped to think about all of this before falling in love with a mortal but it's too late for that now isn't it?)

Of course, nothing lasts forever and Terzo's revived body gives out after a good handful of months. It's a wonder he didn't take anyone with him on his way out or that the Clergy didn't take him out themselves. That whole situation was a bit of a disaster so the Clergy decides that maybe Copia isn't that bad for now. Until they come up with something better at least.

[iamfabiloz]

terrible low quality sketches done at my mini journal thing at school

[dynamoe]

I’m doing improv at the “New” iO. Anything you miss about your UCB days?

Youth? Sense of infinite possibility on a distant horizon? Status and power over naïve comedy students I could get drunk and convince to return to my bed?

Vaguest answer: being a part of a community with a shared purpose (making comedy) and being able to experiment with ideas because the stakes were so low. No one was watching.

For the uninitiated, "UCB" is the Upright Citizens Brigade (Theatre), a comedy theater specializing in improv and sketch in New York and "iO" is Improv Olympic, a comedy theater in Chicago that trained the 3 of the 4 founders of the UCB. (Walshie was an Annoyance guy.)

Thank you for your question, my first from a non-anonymous in ages.

I was in the first generation of performers (more or less) with the UCB in New York City. The UCB-4 moved to NY from Chicago in 1996; I started going to shows/taking classes in 1998.

I miss having all your collaborators living a subway ride away and you'd see them every week... or multiple times a week. If you had an idea for a show, you could throw it on stage in under a month. You didn't make any money, but you didn't lay out any money either. You probably had no audience, too.

That's probably the influence of improv— your ideas were disposable so you didn't hold onto anything and get precious about it. The downside is there's no record of our output. The few photographs look terrible and there's no video. Nothing was written down.

I learned to design at UCB on the job, too. Someone always needed a flyer and I was the only person who knew/had Photoshop. There were no standards and no oversight so I could do whatever I wanted on a flyer. The quality of promotions before I started was so bad that anything I came up with was a step up. So, the only physical memento of the early UCB is 200ish flyers I designed.

I've been waffling on doing an interview-based history podcast covering those first years, before we had a physical theater of our own when the "community" was maybe two dozen people. I bought the equipment a year ago, but still haven't come up with a decent enough title to COMMIT to it.

(I also have so many regrets from that time, I'm trying hard not to add caveats to all of these points.)

[susiestarwarsyt]

Chibi Art of a Twist Oc I made a few months ago

his name is Xeno and he’s based off of Xehanort- the original concept for him was way different from what he is now.

I might post more Ocs sometime

low quality image or original content from Vid I Made ⬇️ I was still using Ibis paint at the time and definitely was terrible at drawing hands( he was supposed to be in ramshackle that’s why his vest[I think it’s a vest] is not in the color of know dorms)

Edit I made of Twist NPC to make the new version (made it before the chibi around the beginning of the school year)⬇️ (editing the NPC took longer to actually do which included turning the NPC into a base, lesson learned; just sketching characters out is quicker than creating a base out of NPCs).

Have a great Day/Night everyone! ✨

[adultswim2021]

Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! #21: “Resurrection” | July 28, 2008 - 12:30AM | S03E01

Assessing the quality of an episode of a sketch comedy program is basically a numbers game. An otherwise lackluster outing can have a sketch on it that is so funny that it overshadows every other sketch, leaving one feeling like the entire episode was pretty good. If an episode doesn’t have a single great or even good sketch, it’s certainly a “bad” episode. That’s what I mean when I say that this is a bad episode. Not a single sketch gets off the runway. Everything leaves me cold. 

Before this episode aired, I recall this show seemingly “catching on”. Articles introducing Tim & Eric to the masses seemed to spring up with higher frequency this summer, most of which were promoting the upcoming season and, more specifically, this episode’s premiere. It could be that they made this episode like any other, assembling an assortment of sketches of varying quality and winding up coming up shorter than ever before. Or, it could be that they consciously tried to create an episode for the people who read about them in the New York Times and wanted to give them an easily digestible version of what they do. The quality of this episode is so low to me that I’m inclined to think the later.

This is the second time Tim & Eric did a season opener that directly references the events of the previous season’s finale, as if there was high demand for questions to be answered. The cliffhanger itself is part of a gag, and continuity is only mock-serious on this show. In this one, Tim is miraculously resurrected at the graveyard. Eric is quickly bored by Tim’s glowing ethereal float, checking his watch and dozing off and stuff. The heavenly effects end abruptly, and Tim just walks away with Eric in a nonchalant manner. It’s very jokey, and not terribly original. It’s honestly a pet peeve of mine when a character visibly does the watch-checking thing to suggest that something has been going on too long, especially if it’s only been going on for about 5 seconds. Right off the bat, the first episode of the season begins with what might be my least favorite sketch of theirs so far.

The next sketch of note is the Dick Dousche Penile Cleansing Rag. This one has a lot of low-hanging fruit as well. It’s essentially a parody of female hygiene product commercials, but featuring a Pep-Pep and his son. It immediately begins with the Pep-Pep sniffing his son’s penis. Funny on paper, I guess, and I’d probably laugh if that were riffed out on Cum Town. But everything in this episode feels like an amateurish approximation of a Tim & Eric sketch. The last joke of the sketch is Dick Dousche saying “that’s my real name. That’s how we’re getting away with this”. It’s the kind of joke they don’t usually tell, just lobbed over home plate. Later they cut to some outtakes of Dick Dousche messing up, and they are sorta funny but this also comes off as more mean than funny.

This one also has a mostly laugh-less Steve Brule sketch where he burns his mouth on a panini. There’s a moment in the sketch where he mindlessly repeats the phrase “cowboy boot” out of it’s previous context, and it cuts to his straight-woman co-host, perplexed and doing an extended quizzical take. It's the kind of thing that's an earmark of less-challenging comedy and I don’t like seeing it here AT ALL. John C. Reilly seems lackluster in this sketch as well, like he’s trying to keep his voice down or something. Man, just about everything in this episode rubs me the wrong way. It’s remarkable.

The through-line of the episode is Tim has a newfound power where he can conjure up a little ceramic tiger statue. The scene that explains this is also rather poor. Tim & Eric seem slightly bro-ier in some of the dialogue reads. Tim calls them “crappy” statues, which again telegraphs their usual humor to a degree I’m just not comfortable with. This bit trails off in a very stupid-but-unpleasing way: They high five at the prospect of selling these statues (conjuring them out of nothing means no production overhead) and say some goofy nonsense word, and then they do a deliberately slow trot off screen with cartoony sound-effects. It just seems completely uninspired.

At this point, it feels like I’m being tested. Like, on a shallow level, this episode perfectly resembles a typical Awesome Show episode. I recall a story about Dino Stamatopoulis feeling disgruntled working at Late Show with David Letterman. He was leaving the show, and as a defiant door-slamming act he submitted a bunch of Top-Ten jokes that were meant to be cruel parodies of the typical jokes that get on. To his dismay, they were favored over his sincere attempts at joke writing and most of them made it into the show. This sorta feels like that; a cynical attempt to expose the stupidity of the more casual fans watching.

The final scene, the ending of the tiger statue arc, isn’t too objectionable. By process of elimination, it’s maybe the strongest scene in the show. But MAN, this episode is dogshit. 

There is ONE THING in this that makes me laugh, and I actually quote it A LOT. It’s the scene where Tim & Eric hatch their plan to sell the “crappy” statues. Tim says something like “one hundo a day. That’s FIVE hundo a week… that’s rich!” Eric weirdly caps it off by repeating “that’s rich” in a very tossed-off, clipped way. It’s like “that’s rish”, so they can quickly get to their dumbass trotting routine. Seeing those two men trot. It makes me sick. But with hundo talk, they were off to the races.

The next episode’s better, though. So there’s that.

[thedeitychildren]

Why is this mushroom always so unhappy like what did i do to you????

[magstorrn]

Horrible Histories S0701 (2017) - ‘Monstrous Musicians’

Daniel Steibelt and Ludwig van Beethoven take part in an improvisation contest in Vienna.

[kalloway]

A rogue Cinder appears!

This is me essentially tossing a bone to everyone who followed me for RWBY things originally (I feel like that’s... most of the ppl who follow me tbh). Just because I abandoned RWBY doesn’t mean I abandoned my favourite babe. When I get thirsty for girls, Cinder is always the first in my mind 8D

[cheapbourbon]

every day they meet on the steps of the hospital... 

[cosmiconix]

Okay, so just for the fun of it, I made up a side au. It's the villains as teenagers, & I've drawn the main four who I've also drawn as kid in previous posts! These are really lazy sketches that are also terribly colored so please don't judge the low quality. 😅

I've always wanted to draw these four as teens, I really enjoy drawing characters like villains as what we don't often get to see in the movies, it's so much fun to design them! I might even make more of these, who knows.😊

[tiddiecookie]

Haven't posted fanart in forever lol

Anyways genderbent tianshan sketches cuz why not.. sorry if it's a bit low effort, i think it's cute 🤌 IK THE QUALITY IS TERRIBLE JUST CLICK ON THE ACTUAL PIC