#that or feel eternally guilty about it

[grunklefordpines]

ONE OF THESE DAYS, YOU’LL WISH TO UNSEE THE THINGS YOU HAVE WITNESSED. EVERYONE CRACKS AT SOME POINT. LIFE IS MUCH BETTER WHEN YOU ARE BLISSFULLY UNAWARE, FREE FROM THE CONSTRAINTS OF YOUR OWN MIND. YOU SAY YOU’RE HAPPY TO LEARN FROM YOUR MEMORIES, BUT EVENTUALLY, YOU’LL BREAK. AFTER ALL, THERE’S SO MANY HORRIBLE THINGS TO DIG UP FROM YOUR PAST…

-👁️❌

Do you think that I don’t “Wish to unsee the things I have witnessed,” already?

Do you think I never considered it in the past?

I can’t.

It’s not because of the metal plate. It’s not because we’re supposed to experience hardship in order to grow—

It’s because it’d be unfair to my family and to myself.

Everything they’ve done for me—Everything that I’ve never felt worthy of receiving—Would be for nothing—Everything Mabel and Stan are doing to try and fix something they didn’t even break—I don’t want any of them to have to try and fix another thing because I tried to find a shortcut—They don’t deserve that.

I don’t deserve it.

[patolemus]

Stiles sits in the front row at the funeral.

He’s next to Mellisa, who hasn’t been able to stop crying since she got the news. Stiles’ dad had organized the whole thing, talking with the funerary home and picking up the coffin and the arrangements. He’d only asked Melissa what she wanted on the headstone.

Raphael had showed up the day after. For the first time in his life, he’d looked a mess, hair everywhere and clothes wrinkled as he stormed into the house asking what had happened to his son, tears already gathering in his eyes before he even got a look at Melissa’s face. Stiles hadn’t made fun of him. Stiles hadn’t said anything at all. Raphael sits on Melissa’s other side now, and she grips his hand tight enough it turns white. He hasn’t been back for five years.

God, Scott hadn’t seen his had for five years, and now he’s dead. Scott’s dead.

Stiles thinks it still hasn’t sunk in. He’s in the middle of his best friend’s funeral - it’s closed casket because his body was so mangled up that the EMPs could barely recognize him. Stiles had heard his dad on the phone with one of his deputies talking about it, before he’d realized just whose body they were talking about - and it still hasn’t clicked that Scott won’t be coming out of his casket, that this isn’t some kind of sick practical joke for getting him out of bed the night before school started.

Stiles is not crying. He hasn’t cried once since hearing the news. His dad is crying, sitting on his other side. Scott’s like a second son to him.

Was. Scott was like a second son to him. Was because he’s gone now. Because he’s dead.

Scott’s dead.

His best friend since preschool is dead. His brother is dead. The kindest, most caring person in the world is dead. Stiles goaded him into going to the preserve to look for half a dead body - and God, he’s such an asshole. A dead body? What was he even thinking? - and now Scott doesn’t even get to show his face at his own funeral because whatever killed him barely left any of him to bury.

If only he’d stayed. If only he’d told his dad Scott was with him that night instead of leaving him there. But no, Stiles hadn’t wanted Scott to get grounded because he dragged him out of bed, so he’d kept quiet. Even when he’d seen the pair of red eyes and that— that thing in the corner of his eye. Stiles hadn’t said anything. He thought they’d laugh about it at lunch the next day.

Now Scott’s dead.

Scott is dead.

And Stiles knows exactly what did it.

(He’s going to fucking kill it.)

[magpie-trinkets]

Hi! Regarding the fact/rumour that "Layton is 176cm with hat according to some artbook".

I have incesantly searched a source to no avail, so my current belief is that it's because Phoenix Wright is actually, really, "176cm according to some artbook", so someone saw that in the crossover Layton with hat and Phoenix were roughly the same height so they said "Layton with hat is 176cm canonically too". And if this is really what happened, taking into account that both of them had their proportions altered, I don't think that's an accurate measure. Sorry :(

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THE BETRAYAL OF UNSOURCED INFOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭 FUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK

All I had to go off of was the first result when you Google "professor layton height". Other results seemed to be headcanons or the spread of that same info, or that light height puzzle.

As you can see, the Heroes Wiki doesn't provide a source or annotation for this trivia, which is why I cautioned it was unsourced in the reblog. It did make visual sense, as an approximation, like "yeah, I can see that", so that's why I used it, but it's disappointing to know it's not right. :(

Thanks for the clarification and the hard work trying to find a source!!! I'm sorry it couldn't be :(

I wonder if there's a way of finding out his height though...

As you said, the Ace Attorney Wiki says Phoenix Wright's height is 176cm, according to official guide books – though it also fails in providing the exact issue or any annotation about it.

It even cautions that it might not reflect on other characters!!! Like Layton!!! Lmao!!!!!!!!

I see four options before me, as I am really curious now:

1) we accept the 176cm as a relative, approximate height, a Laytonmeter (/j) knowing it's not really accurate but it's all we've got;

2) I try to find out his height more mathematically i.e. finding something with a canon height (what could that entail...?) and going off of there;

3) we accept that he doesn't have a consistent height or;

4) we pray that we get his height in NWOS.

Again, thanks awfully!!!! Thanks for letting me know!! And thanks for being so kind! You rock!!!

[sillypiratelife]

When Sanji sacrifices himself he's aware of what he's doing. He knows exactly what is at stake and how much he's given and why his act is bad to others or himself, why it must be done either way. From what I see, it's a reflection of his self-esteem and his desire to put others first, it's guilt and it's self-punishment and he knows, okay?

When Zoro sacrifices himself he's insane, batshit crazy. He doesn't want to die per se, he doesn't hate himself and doesn't do it out of punishment. His dreams are bigger than his life, they are more valuable, so he's never afraid to put his life at risk when it comes to fulfilling what he thinks his duty is. You could say it's his honor or his code of life— Zoro can survive the deadliest wounds, the worst circumstances, 'cause he doesn't seek death, it's just that he won't avoid it either.

I love that contrast and how clear it is during the encounter of Zoro and Mihawk in Baratie.

[curapicas]

Fumetsu no anata e spoilers-

I feel defensive for liking Kahak LMAO. he's so cringe.

he does however haunt the narrative by the ambiguity his position in the group brings, by not escaping his family's curse yet bringing about change in both his family' situation and in Fushi's perspective, by being enough to make Fushi not immediately bristle to the thought of Hayase's bllodline, by being the one Hayase descendant we saw Fushi ever transform into. He's by admission not smart enough to be a knocker's ally, yet his last move is to outsmart both Fushi's enemies and the knocker. He's both remembered in a worse light by those who lived with him and in a better light by Fushi who couldn't trust him yet feels responsible for his suicide. Also his character design, as all Hayase's reencarnations do, rocks

yet. YET. This is all neatly wrapped inside a cringe yandere-in-training who doesn't like Fushi's friends and his every word is tailored to make you feel embarrassed. He's like 17, learned all he knows about love from books and after he lent those for Fushi to read, made a marriage proposal. How do I even come back from this.

[midnightsslut]

.

[mythvoiced]

it's five o'clock in the evening when the video call comes through from lí chényǔ's number --- though the moment the camera turns on, it becomes immediately obvious that the man himself isn't the one placing the call. wendy's face mostly fills the screen, her eyes wide with concern, gaze flitting side to side as if she's attempting to be sneaky. she carefully ( pointedly ) adjusts the angle of the camera just right, such that the patch of damp, discolored plaster ( and the black mold splotched across it ) in the corner of the ceiling comes into view. all the rain has set it to leaking again; even as she videos it, several drops of water fall and land on the cluttered floor beneath, soaking into some ratty old towels that have long since ceased to serve their purpose in keeping what little free floor space there is dry.

in the background, a tv is playing faintly --- by the sound of it, a game show from the mainland. chopsticks clink against a bowl --- michael. wendy glances over at him where he sits next to her on the cramped bottom bunk, then back to the camera. the rain pounds against the single-pane glass; the wind rattles the window in its frame, whistling around the nonexistent weatherstripping. someone coughs as if they're drowning in their own lungs --- lí chényǔ. wendy's face falls, and she surreptitiously tilts the camera just enough to capture the scene.

lí chényǔ sits hunched on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a heavy comforter, a thermometer hanging from the corner of his mouth. his head rests heavily in one hand, a smouldering cigarette perched precariously between his fingers; even from this angle, the unhealthy flush on his cheeks is obvious. the thermometer beeps, and he scrutinizes it, expressionless.

"gēge," wendy asks, "what's it say ?"

"méishénme," lí chényǔ replies hoarsely, with a dismissive wave of his hand. he turns away from his younger siblings, then sneezes violently twice, unable to stop himself from groaning faintly in discomfort afterwards.

michael glances over at wendy, then takes advantage of lí chényǔ's distraction while searching for tissues to snatch the thermometer away from him. "chénchén, why's your temperature 103 ?" he asks worriedly, reaching out rub lí chényǔ's back when his big brother starts coughing again. "you're sick, please don't go play tonight, look how bad the weather is !"

"i won't be long," lí chényǔ whispers in mandarin ( it seems to hurt him to talk. ) "i just ... need to make enough to buy something so i won't cough all night and keep you both up. you have school tomorrow." there's a beat; lí chényǔ sniffles miserably, then turns to wendy. "wénxīn, i need my phone --- "

the video cuts off abruptly. and then ---

[ text to / 徐文哲 ]: its wendy he says hes going to busk at union square when the rain stops. winnie gege what do i do 😭 chenchen is so sick and im scared 😭😭

[ for wenzhe, from lí chényǔ / @xiianxias ! ]

@xiianxias | annabel & lcy rip len's heart apart hours~

There's a lot Wenzhe associates Lí ChénYǔ to. Mostly things he doesn't want to speak out loud because they're romantic and flowery, dreamy and ridiculous. Certain hands and caresses of a musician, little habits and that contrasting cigarette, the tenderness of a good man coupled with the harshness of the world sitting on his back.

Eyes with enough in them to fill the basin of the sea stretching between this coast and the mainland. Tentative speech and the intelligence hiding behind the language barrier, broad shoulders nearly solely in the metaphorical sense because if his sleeves slip his arms are thin, a brother and father both, someone a thousand times better than Wenzhe will ever be without ever asking to be considered anything more than just capable enough to be allowed to continue being capable, that little smile and the Mandarin Wenzhe mouths after him and pretends it's not to imitate his lips.

Enough to get lost about, enough to lose focus during classes, enough to stop at corners and create connections between a busker he's not and the music he plays, between a drugstore and that terrible cough, between a restaurant and warm food he'd like his siblings to taste.

A whole lot of things.

He often forgets this part.

The cough. The look in those basins of the sea. The siblings. The hope. Careful. The sense of responsibility. The weight on those shoulders.

Wenzhe thinks of the beautiful man and the notes of one of the saddest instruments the world has created and too often doesn't associate its solemnity to its player.

Wenzhe almost walks into a pole.

In and out of a campus café where he works on his way back home, the food there isn't glamorous or gourmet, or even fresh at this hour, but it's soft and pastry, it's sweet, it's never as high-class as all Vienna has to offer in terms of chocolate and desserts, but it fills the stomach and makes sweet-tooth's sigh. Wenzhe doesn't quite know how to ask 'is it all right' and 'what do you like', so he forewent the mortification and just bought the damn thing.

If Lí ChénYǔ likes it, good, if he doesn't, mark it down for next time.

Now it feels heavy in his hands.

The call cuts too abruptly. He'd been too focused on not frowning at his screen, on ignoring the pain of slamming his shoulder into the pole to narrowly avoid it, on wrapping his mouth around the first syllables of 'what's wrong did something happen-' before Wendy beats him too it and knocks the words back off his tongue.

He tries not to panic. And almost sways with the relief at getting a text.

He didn't know what his brain had computed could have happened between Lí ChénYǔ's cough, Mandarin he doesn't understand, and Wendy suddenly disappearing off his screen. But if his heart races any faster, he'll lose it and his hair within the next 24 hours.

[ unsent text to | 😖😵‍💫🥺 ] i'm on my way, tell him if he tries to go out i'll

He halts in his power-walk and nearly slams into someone.

He'll what, exactly. They're not that close. Or… are they? No, they are. But… he'll what. What could he hold against him?

What can you hold against someone you want to give the world to?

He slams his phone onto his forehead and tries again.

[ text to | 😖😵‍💫🥺 ] i'm on my way, once i'm there i'll figure out how to help him, okay? thank you for calling me.

A frown.

[ text to | 😖😵‍💫🥺 ] you did well! always call me in situations like these, okay?

Or maybe… not?

He's jogging by the time he's decided he'll overthink it later, and by the time the alley's in sight, and his phone is stuck to his ear, he'll figure he'll be put back in his place soon enough, if Wendy picks up.

[somejerkguy]

I just get told so many times "you just haven't found the right people"

other people pick up relationships of all kinds over their whole lives though? and those people float in and out of each other's lives, stay in touch, catch up when they can

like. I don't think it's unreasonable to not try again when every single person I've cared about has closed the door behind them on the way out

[snekdood]

i really dont think i actually deserved all that bullshit. the internets traumatized me now at this point and literally no ones gonna care unless my abuser is honest and its so fucking exhausting.

[taeminworship]

I don't have anything new to say but I just. love Eternal so much and I'm so happy for him and me that he's gotten to be involved with every detail and we get to experience it! I'm so proud of him for this work and how much it's an accumulation of his career. I just love how very Taemin Eternal is. As I saw someone on yt say, he's once again proved his only competition is himself

[phantomsiita]

how fucking weird is it that my brothers been dead 10 months. like??

[fogsnatched]

one thing i really enjoy about exploring my dbd muses (and it's the same with identity v tbh) is figuring out how they react differently to the Entity's realm, and how they each keep some level of hope in the overwhelmingly hopeless situation they've found themselves in.

like... the scenario of dbd is one of my worst nightmare scenarios imaginable tbh, so it's super interesting to think about what hope the survivors have, if any. though of course there's the ever looming threat that they won't be able to reach that hope, too... or that they might break before that happens. sometimes i wonder if i should lean more into the "tragedy" approach to it all, but despite loving horror, tragedy isn't really my thing... i do hope i'm not completely ruining the horror aspects of dbd with the focus on hope, though.

[glindyupland]

.

[biboomerangboi]

Hua Cheng essentially cockblocking himself for possibly all of eternity will literally never not be the funniest thing MXTX ever wrote.

Xie Lian was pretty much completely in love with him the second he saw those lanterns (and completely oblivious about it) and then we get the wonderful first kiss underwater moment and Xie Lian is basically drawing hearts around Hua Cheng every time he sees him. While like quietly dying cause he literally has no idea what to do with it. Like at this point he doesn’t even really understand that he is head over heels totally gone for this man.

Until Hua Cheng is like I have a beloved I just haven’t won them over yet. Which he thinks is perfectly reasonable because his self esteem is the worst and he doesn’t understand how he could have won Xie Lian over yet. (He’s only on step 22 of his Marrying Dianxia 3000 step Master Plan ((that he debates throwing out on a regular basis because he doesn’t deserve to even dream about wanting Xie Lian)). So course he’s like yeah I have this wonderful noble beautiful beloved I just haven’t won them over yet wink wink nudge nudge.

But Xie Lian is like oh of course obviously I don’t deserve nice things and fuck I actually wanted him so badly I’m actually in love with him and now I will resign myself to never being happy for his sake. (Their combined self esteem is truly a so low it’s a hole in the ground which is hilarious because they think the other person is to good for them and unattainable forever because they literally have the same neurosis.) So he starts boxing up his feelings forever constantly wanting Hua Cheng and feeling guilty about it and literally dying inside because he wants Hua Cheng like he’s never wanted anyone.

Like essentially books 3 and 5 only happen because Hua Cheng has now cursed them both by saying he has a beloved because Xie Lian believes he isn’t wanted and therefore any nice thing Hua Cheng does is just him being nice and not Hua Cheng pulling out steps 23-34 of his plan thinking he still hasn’t won Xie Lian over. (He has he so has but he shot himself in the foot so badly it’s painful to read).

Like thank the Gods Hua Cheng is so unhinged and created the cave of 10000 Gods cause Xie Lian would literally be at his own wedding to Hua Cheng still convinced he wanted someone else and this was in fact a thing they were doing to solve a case together otherwise.

Like he needed something that unhinged to put 2 and 2 together otherwise he never would have caught on he’s Hua Cheng’s beloved. Meanwhile Hua cheng is like 🥺 he’s going to think I’m a weirdo now and I’m only on step 50 of the plan 🥺 like the two of them wouldn’t have been fucking nasty 2 books ago if he just kept his mouth shut and didn’t cockblock himself so violently.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[indecisivemuch]

Scandalous

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: The reveal of a scandalous detail about yours and Luke's relationship left you both flustered and everybody else gaping. Inspired by one line from So It Goes - Taylor Swift (fluff, established relationship).

Warning: allusions to sex, but no explicit details.

Word count: 2k

You and Luke have been going out for well over a year now. Yet, he never failed to make you feel like it would be an eternal honeymoon phase: whispers of sweet words about a lifetime’s worth of promises, delicate and sacred touches, looks filling in for unspoken words.

Loving Luke was as easy as having a daily routine - so natural and almost like a grounding thing from the life of a Demigod.

Currently, Luke was training with Percy. You were not too far away either, sparring with Clarisse. Despite the area being occupied by many other Demigods engaging in similar activities, Luke could not help but frequently glance over at you.

Luke has always been mesmerized by the way you combat, which he metaphorically compared to a ballerina. So precise, yet deadly. Every move was with intention and purpose. 

The way sweat glided down the side of your face, your cheeks flushed from fighting, eyes darting with strategy, heavy pants in between dodging and attacking your opponent, the smirk hinted on your face - all of it made Luke’s mind grow flustered. Somehow, he found everything you do attractive.

If he was honest, his mind seemed to be doing nothing lately but think of you, especially when you’re not beside him. The memories he has harvested over your time together only transformed his brain into a cinema, which constantly played montages of you. Every morning, he’d wake up from a dream about you to the sight of you in his arms - that is before he had to sneak out of your cabin back to his. You constantly occupy every cell in his mind, like an uncontainable virus spreading. Yet, for some reason, he was not scared. He welcomed this feeling with his whole arms wide open.

You broke eye contact with Clarisse to look at Luke. Almost instantly, your eyes melted into ones filled with adoration and his own eyes mirrored the same emotions - if not tenfold. 

You were absolutely enamored with how Luke looked at you. Even before dating each other, people have mentioned the eyes he was giving you. But being oblivious, you did not see what they were talking about. However, it all became clear when you started dating. You started noticing how he would look at you like you were a rare artwork he would most likely never see again or a shooting star - a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence kind of thing that left him in awe all the time. He would do it so endearingly as if it would help to absorb every detail of you and imprint them into his memory. His looks have always made you feel loved - like you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if he has not told you this verbally and through actions already. Usually, you’d feel slightly insecure if somebody was staring so intensely at you, but he did it in a way that made you feel like your flaws were created to be loved for. 

However, a gasp escaped your lips as Luke was showered by a wave of the ocean. Everybody else also drew their attention to the head of Hermes’ cabin and the newly claimed Poseidon kid.

When Luke looked back at Percy, he was faced with a sheepish grin.

“I had to get your attention somehow. I tried calling your name like ten times already,” Percy shrugged his shoulder with feigned innocence, but the glint of mischief told Luke that the kid was anything but feeling guilty about soaking him from head to toe. 

“Percy,” Luke groaned as he could feel the fabric of his clothes cling to his body. Percy bashfully chuckled and offered another sheepish look to the counselor who was meant to train him. 

The cool water did offer a temporary fix to the boiling summer heat. But mixing that with sweat, combat, and Luke's long-sleeved shirt underneath was disastrous. The Hermes boy sighed as he slowly took off the bright orange camp shirt. After struggling slightly, he managed to pull the shirt off from over his head. However, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath got pulled up more than slightly from the extra friction between wet fabrics, revealing the majority of his back to Percy and others. 

He did not think much of it until gasps - including yours - could be heard as this happened. Chris even whistled as he and everybody else spotted what Luke did not notice.

“What?” Luke asked as he pulled down his gray shirt and started wringing his camp t-shirt, trying to rid it from being as wet as possible. 

“Damn, did you get mauled by a minotaur or something?” Percy asked. 

Almost immediately, Luke paled at Percy’s words as he realized what the kid was talking about.

Indeed, as Luke’s gray shirt underneath got pulled up, which revealed the majority of his back, this had also put on display the scratches down his back left from nights that he spent with you. Some were evidently old and healing, as seen by how Luke’s skin was patching itself up and matching closer to his skin tone. Others were somewhat freshly red, while a few were like wounds being reopened. To make matters worse, they could spot the occasional crescent shape bruises that were indentations of your nails. 

Considering your guys’ relationship was not a secret, there was no room to deny it if somebody pointed fingers at you. You blushed as people now averted their eyes to you as if this was the most scandalous thing all year. Clarisse and Chris, on the other hand, were both smirking. 

The whole camp knew you were the one who left those scratches there, and you sincerely wish you could dig a hole to hide yourself from all the attention right now.

Luke’s eyes darted to you, and you offered him an awkward smile as your face grew a darker shade of red.

“No, seriously, dude, you gotta get it checked out at the infirmary. How did that even happen?” Percy only continued, somehow actually clueless about the cause of those marks. You could see Annabeth sending Percy a somewhat side-eye from nearby at his words while Grover let out a deep sigh. 

You started approaching the two, hoping you could intervene and save the both of you from this situation.

“Uhm…well,” Luke started, unsure how to even answer the kid or divert the attention elsewhere as his cheeks flushed and ears tinted pink from trying to ignore memories of what you two had done the night before.

The Hermes boy has jokingly sweet-talked you before on how he might walk out shirtless after one of your rendezvous to show off the marks you left on him. Never would you two think that that idea would ever happen like this.

“Yeah, I reckon you should get that checked out,” you decided to say as you reached Luke, settling your hand on Luke’s lower back and greeting Percy. “Thank you for worrying about him.”

“Yeah, no problem. I mean, it must have been quite a minotaur to land that much of a number on him,” Percy somehow carried on and was utterly oblivious to Clarisse and Chris, who almost bursted out laughing at his latest comment. You, on the other hand, squinted your eyes at the kid. You turned to Luke and you could see it in his eyes that the boy was on the verge of laughing as well. You were sure he would have done so if it were not for your glare.

“Well, we best go heal those wounds now, right Luke?” you gave your boyfriend a look, hoping he would get the message to play along.

“Right,” he agreed almost instantly. 

“Alright, bye, Percy,” you hastily spoke, before dragging Luke by his hand away from everybody's eyes.

“Bye guys,” you could hear the kid’s voice as the both of you retreated. It felt like a walk of shame as the semi-crowd parted ways for you two to leave the scene. You immediately let out a deep breath as soon as nobody was near anymore.

“Gods, that was so embarrassing. The kid basically repeatedly called me a minotaur.”

“I mean…you can be my minotaur?” Luke cheekily jested, trying to tease you a bit more over the situation.

“Oh, no, no, no, we’re not making that a thing. No, absolutely not are you ever gonna make that a nickname,” Luke only laughed at your reaction before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you into a hug. As he did so, you wrapped both your arms around his waist, face colliding with his chest the way it would usually do when you guys cuddle. He gave you a few peppered kisses on your forehead, close to your hairline. 

“They’re never gonna let us live that down, will they?” You asked after letting out a muffled groan against his chest.

“Nope,” Luke admitted. Despite the Hermes boy usually easing away your worries, even he knew this would be the talk around camp for a while. Nevertheless, he unwrapped his arms around you and cupped your face with both hands. Using his callus-filled hands, yet gentle touch, he soothed your furrowed eyebrows by rubbing over them to urge you from scowling.

“But…you know what? I’m kind of glad this happened. Sure, it might be awkward and a tad bit embarrassing. But now, they finally get to see how lucky I am to have been given a chance by such a gorgeous and sweet Demigod. And…” he paused, giving you a quick kiss. “This way, any guy potentially still after you know to keep their hands off.” He cheekily winked at you after saying so. 

Gods, you remember how jealous Luke would get before you were together. It was lowkey hot to see him so riled up. Though, after the both of you got together, you have always reassured him that you had eyes on him and only him. 

“I guess that also means any girls still thinking they could steal you from me would know they have no chance?” you questioned, smiling ear to ear when he nodded eagerly at your words.

“Exactly. That’s a win-win in my book. I’m not embarrassed they saw what you left on me. They could talk for all I care. So stop worrying, or else you’ll start getting wrinkles,” he lightly flicked the area between your furrowed eyebrows. As you were about to complain, he quickly kissed you right where he previously flicked you, and that immediately melted away any bit of feigned irritation you had with him. He chuckled at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows untangling itself.

“Thank you,” you muttered, showing your gratitude towards Luke. 

If Luke had a superpower, it would probably be calming you down. He has always managed to tame your emotions whenever they were drowning you. He was like an anchor to you, always grounded you during chaotic times. Sometimes, you wonder how you got so lucky. 

You peered up at him sweetly, and the look alone made him lean down to capture your lips with his again. You chuckled at his action and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was leaving on your lips. Your hands started playing with the hair close to the nape of his neck. He let out a content sigh while still showing your lips just how much he loved them and you. However, he abruptly pulled away before dropping a question. 

“Are we really going to the infirmary?” Luke hesitantly asked, bringing up your words from earlier. He watched as you gave him an amused look.

“What did you think?” As soon as his eyes met yours, he knew exactly what you wanted. He gave you a sheepish grin before the two of you quietly giggled to each other before walking further away from the training grounds.

Let's just say you two did not follow through with your words of going to the infirmary, and neither were you tending to his “wounds”.

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