#thank you hazel

[travisdermotts]

spring training isn't real

[anotherknifeinmyhands]

god making gerard way: "the hoes are gonna love this"

[ladamedusoif]

😏

im sexualizing blacksmiths. men strong enough to craft swords but delicate enjoy to make you jewelry from the scraps

[all-too-unwell-13]

i need to stop being reminded that the seven are canonically very awkward around each other and hardly talk at all.

let me live in my sunshine rainbow world where they're all friends, are each other's 'found family,' where hazel, piper, and annabeth are best friends, where leo, jason, frank, and percy are like brothers, where jason and piper never existed, where hazel and piper were actually friends (that they should've been), and leo and percy are the most sarcastic and funny people you've ever met (and they make each other even funnier)!!!!!

[vrnicky]

Go for it

Make the fic

Make ur dreams come true

:0

IMMA START WRITING SJKXJSF

[sakras]

every day is fma day. to me

[yuly]

HAIRY LEGS YES GOD

ALDKFJALKDADKFAD RUN TO IG THOMAS POSTED A TBT

[bad-kendi]

[mister-supernova]

In conclusion of watching Bottoms three times, I would like to be as hot as Hazel Callahan while also being with Hazel Callahan romantically please and thank you

[midnight-mourning]

Sweet Nothings. (Sun & Moon x Reader Drabble)

Requested By: @hazelthebat

Word Count: 445

Summary: Apparently your day-to-day has become so monotonous that you're only just realizing how deep in you really are. Whoops.

Note: You asked for kisses, I provide kisses, all in a day's work o7 Technically canon to CS but when/where in the timeline you may ask?? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had been so subtle, so routine. You’d almost wondered if you’d imagined it when it happened.

You were dropping off Gabe, and when you’d went to say goodbye, Sun had bent down for a quick kiss. Which you’d obliged of course, common courtesy and all that, but when you were walking out you’d realized what you’d done.

Not wanting to ruin your own day, you brought it up later when you were picking your brother up again.

"What was that this morning?" You question as the attendant hands the baby over to you.

Again, you share a goodbye kiss, "What was what?"

You blink, "That, just now."

"Don’t be ridiculous," Sun scoffs, "If my affection isn’t satisfactory you should have just said so."

It seemed, that Sun found your comments so offensive that you weren’t allowed to leave the Daycare until you 'approved' of his efforts. Which after the third, breath-taking, passion-filled, borderline inappropriate for a public space kiss, you gave a shaky thumbs up so you could be on your way.

When you came in for your second shift that evening, all you could do was stare at your screen, not getting any work done at all.

"Am I going crazy?" You ask into the darkened room. Last you checked Moon was gone-

Oh no, there he is, directly in front of your face.

His eyes crinkle upward, swinging forward just slightly to knock his smile against your forehead, "I’m afraid you’ve been crazy, Andromeda. It’s terminal. No cure. Unfortunate, really."

It occurs to you after the fact that while he speaks Moon continues to kiss you. On your cheek, on your nose, your lips-several times-on your other cheek, with each punctuating a different comment.

"Now this is just getting ridiculous," You huff.

He tilts his head, silently questioning you.

"I hope you’re both paying attention," You grip Moon’s faceplate with both hands, "This is how you kiss someone."

You open your eyes to the dark ceiling of your bedroom. You squint, trying to remember beyond the base details of your dream. 

No such luck.

You roll over, grabbing your phone to send a message to the subjects of your, strange, dreams. While doing so you fail to realize it is 3:30 in the morning and what you want to say isn't what you end up sending. 

'Thoughts on lips???'

'Gross.'

'Squishy'

You stare at the screen, flicking between the sets of messages. Then, when satisfied, give a small nod, drop your phone back on your nightstand and fall promptly back to sleep. 

You had work in the morning, after all. No time to wonder about what that meant.

If anything at all.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Little does Y/N know they just witnessed their future. i kid, I kid (OR AM I), I am, (OR AM I)

If you liked this and the other drabbles I've done so far, you could check out Confused Spirit on Ao3 (if you haven't already). You could also participate in this poll/celebration and vote for more writing things. Or don't I don't mind either way ^-^ Anyway, thanks for reading!!

[lethality-of-dual-strike]

(most of) my favorite fop character sketches to take my mind off of the sense of impending doom

[laurrelise]

still devastated we never got to see cha cha after season 1

i know she wasn’t like, the best, most morally correct person of all time but she was such a fucking badass. she got shit done and she absolutely ate everyone tf up i do not care

yes she is an assassin and she did kinda suck but also she’s absolutely slaying in more ways than one and i think we should’ve let her continue to do so

[ahollowgrave]

pinching her cheeks

[somewhereincairparavel]

I'm so immersed in my jason grace new rome uni fic that I'm studying ancient roman law terms using this as an excuse. help.

[hazelfoureyes]

sometimes your reblogs and tags are so delicious

that I have to reread what I wrote with your reblog in my mind to see what all the fuss is about cuz you made it sound so good

⊹₊‧─beautifully reblogged hazbin smut─‧₊⊹

[lamoobsessions]

Fortune for the Fools

Hazel Callahan x FemReader

Synopsis: After an underwhelming proverb from an underwhelming fortune teller at the county fair, you have an unexpected run-in with Hazel. When time passes and feelings prosper, you finally begin to believe that maybe that fortune was right after all.

A/N: Enjoy this prologue to a fic i'm working on, while I slowly hoist myself out of this writing slump. Each chapter will have a lyric from a song by a queer artist, so I hope you enjoy :)

Prologue: "My heart's out. My guard's down." - Body and Mind, Girl in Red

────────────

To you, everything about the ‘End of Summer Carnival’ was enchanting. The pop-up canopies glowing in the night like lamps. The game booths sounding obnoxious buzzers as the kids played them for cheap toys. The tall, flashing lights welcoming onlookers to their sketchy rides, which, to your dislike, capriciously shook as they sat in the dirt -They weren’t safe, anyone with half of a mind knew that, but anyone with a sliver of fun would ride them anyway. Even the smell of the event was kind of charming. Sure, there’s the frequent whiffs of vomit and B.O., but usually those smells drown in the overwhelming scent of funnel cake and sugar. All in all, there was a lot to love about the carnival. 

Like every year, you attend with Sylvie, whom you’ve known since… forever you think. You and her clicked. Maybe it was your reserved demeanor and her gregarious attitude that made things so easy. Many people found it shocking when they found out how close the two of you are, simply because you’re polar opposites. Either way, the two of you made quite the pair. 

However, at the moment you stand alone among the carnival’s rapture.

All is well though, you have a routine for this sort of thing. You start out with the games, then the rides, then get food, and finish the night off with a ride on the Ferris wheel. It’s a perfect system you discovered a couple of years ago, and it hasn’t failed you yet. The only downfall of this plan is that Sylvie isn’t big on the carnival games, so you’re often left on your own for the first half. Which, you don’t mind, it’s less competition for the prizes anyway. 

That’s how you’ve found yourself here, standing in front of an old vintage fortune-teller named ‘ZOLTAR.’

To your understanding, this is the first year the local carnival has had a fortune teller machine. The thing doesn’t even ask for one of your tickets, it only asks for a dollar. So, thinking it must be fate, you decide to try out your luck.

Inserting the money into the slot, a suspiciously long moment passes, a moment long enough for you to begin to think the thing must be broken, and you dollar just went to a waste. Yet, just as you were about to shake some life into the machine, a whimsical harp plays from the speaker, “Cheer up my friend, and listen to the proverb from Zoltar.”

The sudden, and unreasonably loud, audio makes you flinch.

“From small beginnings come great things.” The machine suggests. “Ah yes, and lucky for you the great Zoltar sees much happiness for you in the future. Go out and find it, but don’t run off too quickly, Zoltar has more to say for you.” 

A shuttering emanates from the ticket dispenser, as it pushes out a small yellow ticket. Pulling it from the slot you read the back of the card. 

It's all the same mumbo jumbo you'd expect from a fortune. 'Things are going to change soon… blah, blah, blah… Be brave in your choices… yadda, yadda, yadda.'

You huff a laugh looking down at the card. “great…” you mutter.

It’s truly is the same fortune-teller crap most people get, but you can’t help but to hope it’s true. What’s the harm in hoping, right?

However, after a few carnival games, this hope started to feel like bullshit. Firstly, your favorite game that’s here every year is gone, then you lose half your tickets gambling them away on some guessing game, then, at the time your supposed to meet Sylvie by the Ferris wheel, she’s a no show.  

‘Great happiness in your future, my ass’ you thought. 

At least you had enough cash left in your pocket to buy back the tickets you lost. But first, there was a fried Oreo stand practically calling your name with it's infectiously sweet aroma. 

Deciding to ditch Sylvie's meeting spot, you make your way to the concession stand and join the endless line.

Minutes pass and you’re finally close to the front, with the delicious smells of chocolate and sugar getting stronger and stronger with each step. Although, another minute passes, then another, then another, and the line has yet to move. Peering to the front, you see a girl fumbling in her wallet, a look of panic evident of her face. 

Even from a short distance, you’re sure you know who it is. Though, curious to see what’s going on, you listen in closer. 

“Ma’am you can’t pay with tickets, we only accept cash.” The woman behind the counter argues. 

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. It’s just that I promised some friends-”

“If you don’t have any cash, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the line.”

Looking into your wallet for extra cash, you notice you only have cash for your own fried Oreo and some more tickets. If you were to buy more from the concession stand, you'd have to give up on the possibility of buying extra tickets later.

But, being that it's the last night of the summer and your 'lucky fortune' can't seem to come true, you at least have the chance to bring happiness to someone else's future.

“Excuse me!” 

Both the woman behind the counter and Hazel turn to you. 

“I have extra cash if you…” you suggest. 

“Oh no, it’s…” Hazel dismisses, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, really. What were you going to get?” You ask, taking the money from your wallet, while making your way to the counter. 

Hazel stares at you, dumbfounded, seemingly unsure if she should accept the offer.

“She was getting two churros and a stick of cotton candy.” The cashier speaks up.

You nod and count the cash before handing it to her. “Can you add a fried Oreo to that order?”

The woman bobs her head while counting the cash and shoves it into the register. “We’ll have that right out for you.”

“Thanks,” You smile and make your way to the pick-up bar for the food. Hazel follows you hesitantly, presumably taken back by the interaction. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she comments.

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

As embarrassing as it may be to admit, there was always this fondness with her, an insatiable desire to be her friend. But, making friends wasn’t always your strong suit. You mostly kept to yourself, sat in the back of the class with your nose in a book. Sylvie’s told you countless times how unapproachable you look, but you never got around to fixing that detail. 

Hazel wears a confused expression, as if she couldn't quite piece together something in her head. 

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You begin, figuring she's probably trying to pin a name to your face. “Hazel, right?”

“Um- yeah. You know my name?”

“Yeah I mean, we’ve been going to the same school since like freshman year. Of course I know who you are.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t normal to know random people’s names in your school. It’s a big school, filled with a lot of people. Many students graduate not knowing half of their class. But, you knew Hazel’s name because, like anyone you find interesting, you learned it.

“Oh yeah, right.” She laughs awkwardly. “I knew your name too, by the way.”

You smile, letting out an amused huff at her insistence before looking to the Ferris wheel, where Sylvie has yet to show up. You'd be worried if it weren't Sylvie being her usual self. She either got caught in some atrociously long line, or is currently talking some poor souls head off somewhere. 

“I-um,” Hazel begins. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for the food, so… thanks.”

“Yeah, of course. Don't mention it." You chirp. 

“No really, I owe you one. Usually they accept tickets at these things, but I guess they don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, they stopped doing that last year after some kid, like, figured out how to forge the concession tickets or something.”

Suddenly, her expression turns into one of clarity. “I was wondering why they didn’t offer concession tickets this year.” She pauses, then lowering her voice to a near whisper. “How did they find out about the fakes though?”

“Wait- was that you?” 

Suddenly, she lights up, as if she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to ask. “Yeah, I just bought some customizable raffle tickets online and printed all the same stuff on them. It was pretty easy, considering most tickets, like the one for the rides, have special codes on them so they can’t be replicated, but not the concession ones. There wasn’t anything fancy like that on them.” 

After seconds of staring in complete bafflement, you can’t help but to laugh. She was the last person you’d expect to pull such thing off, but maybe that’s because you didn’t know her as much as you wish you did.  “That’s honestly genius. I mean,  it’s a shame you got caught.”

“I don’t even know how they found out! I was super inconspicuous about it.”

At this, you only laugh harder. It wasn’t even that funny of a situation but for some reason, maybe because it was her, you felt lighter. 

“Two churros, a cotton candy, and a fried Oreo!” The woman calls from the counter. 

The two of you turn your attention towards the tray of food under the pick-up window. Hazel grabs her share of food, though not before handing you your portion. 

“Well,” you begin, while unwrapping the treat in your hands. “Maybe next time you can learn to forge actual money.”

“That would be so cool,” She beams, evidently not catching your sarcasm. 

“Cool, but also a federal crime.”

“It’s only a crime if you get caught.”

“Thats a terrible philosophy.” you remark. Glancing at the ferris wheel, Sylvie had finally showed. She waited patiently under beaming lights. “Oh, I gotta go. I’ll see you at school, I guess?”

Something flashes in hazel’s demeanor, something you couldn't quite identify before it was gone and replaced by a smile “Yeah -uh, I’ll see you then.” She waves. “Thanks again.”

“no problem,” you wave off, before taking off towards Sylvie, who quickly spots you walking over, and begins to wave frantically, as if you couldn’t already see her under the blinding light. 

“Y/n!” She calls, “You’ll never guess what I saw!” 

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “It better be the reason you were a whole thirty minutes late to meeting me.”

“Uh-huh,” She answers quickly. “I saw someone get hit by a car.”

A pit of shock and concern fills you. “Oh my god are they okay? Are- Are you okay? How the hell did-”

“No it’s fine, it was just Jeff.”

Immediately that pit of shock dissolves, and your mind begins to wonder how the whole town hasn’t already erupted into a riot simply because it was Jeff.  “Okay, so…is he okay?”

“Well, you know, of course he’s taking it way too far and acting like the car hit him at ninety miles per hour, when in reality it was probably one, but yeah, he’s fine.” 

That part was believable. For football players who are the size of grown men, they were about as fragile as a china doll. But, the fact that you hadn’t heard about it the moment it happened… that part was a little hard to grasp. “So, you’re telling me, the Jeff -Jeff the star player of the Rockbridge football team, got hit by a car and the town hasn’t turned to pitchforks and torches yet?”

“Yes!” She exclaims excitingly. “I mean, the whole team is devastated, but the people are handling it pretty good if you ask me.”

You huff, taking a bite into your food. “Well, I guess that’s a good enough excuse for you being late.”

“I’m sorry,” She exaggerates, dragging out the apology. “To make it up to you, I’ll let you choose the first ride we go on together.”

“Oh, how generous,” You tease. “But I blew all my tickets on the carnie games.”

“You serious? Why don’t you just buy more?”

“All the cash I brought was spent on food.”

She gives you a curious look, likely surprised that you, for once, came to something unprepared. For some reason you have yet to uncover, a part of you didn’t feel like telling Sylvie about the run-in with Hazel. 

“Well, lucky for you, I stole some of my stepdad’s money for tonight. So we can just buy more.”

you laugh, “I don’t think I feel comfortable using stolen step-dad money."

“Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it like I’m your super rich sugar momma, and I’m treating you to a night out.” She shoves a wad of tickets into your hands forcefully. 

“Right,” you deadpan, accepting the tickets. ”Step-dad’s money it is.”

“Great,” She cheers, playfully putting an arm around your shoulder.  

The rest of the night was spent using all of Sylvie's remaining tickets for eating overtly sweet foods, riding unnecessarily fast rides, and throwing up in grotesque smelling trash cans. Or in other words, the night was spent perfectly. You and Sylvie stuck around til closing and ended the night sleeping over at your place, which is always the go-to spot for the both of you since Sylvie absolutely despises her stepdad. Come to think of it, you’ve probably only been to her house once, way back when her parents were still together. These days, it’s your house and your house only. You never minded the company.

But, as the early morning came and the first day of school had arrived, you began to regret this decision.

Body aching, stomach wrenching, and head sagging like a block of cement, all the decisions of last night finally caught up to you. You felt like shit, and you weren’t the only one. Next to you, Sylvie groaned, dragging her hands down her face as she sat up from the air mattress on the floor. 

“I think I’m dying,” She complains.

You hum in agreement, pulling yourself from under the covers and throwing your legs off the bedside. “Do we have to go? It’s our last year, it doesn't really matter if we skip anymore, right?"

“I mean… I’d be down to skip if you are. We can rot in bed and watch movies all day and pretend it’s still summer and that school never started.” 

Staring at her with a stoic expression, you hop off the bed and begin to make your way towards the closet. “You’re supposed to convince me to go, not enable me.”

She shrugs, putting her hands up in surrender. “I never said I was a good influence. You decided that on your own.”

You huff, pulling off random pieces of clothing from the drawers and off the hook. “Yeah, well,” You sigh, throwing the clothes on the bed. “I’m going to need all the influence I can get to leave this house before eight. And by influence, I mean caffeine and ibuprofen.”

“Oh!” She exclaims shooting up from the bed. “I’ll get the ibuprofen.”

“Please don’t grab the wrong thing like you did last time.”

A wide grin plasters on her face. “You mean the laxative incident? That was hilarious.”

“No, no it wasn’t.” The last time Sylvie was in charge of grabbing ibuprofen was the night of the Junior and Senior prom. You developed a monster headache from all the cologne clouding the gymnasium air, and when Sylvie somehow came back with laxatives instead of a pain reliever, you were too absorbed in the pain to notice any difference. “I had to leave prom early because all the fucking bathrooms were full with orgies and stoners.” 

“Yeah, that was awesome,” She giggles. 

“Just please grab the right stuff this time.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I can handle it.” And with that, she walks out the room and towards the kitchen where the pharmaceuticals are stored. This time, hopefully, she will come back with the right medicine. You dind't want this sudden luck of yours to continue any longer.