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g1rld1ary · 13 days

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you never disappointed me - part five

part one part two part three four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; luke tries to apologise for the party, but it takes you a while to forgive him (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3753

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, swearing

➻ did this take a month? yes. am I sorry? yes. will it happen again? absolutely

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage @caramelandvenus @chasebeth @maraudersmyloves losergirlcrowley amortencjja wisecrownpaper iammightsadyall odeasforyou rlqfpdl

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You were humiliated. You’d spent all night crying, mortification setting in thick over your body as you lay on your bed. However, despite how embarrassed you were, you were mostly angry. Angry at Luke for acting so affectionate, for making you believe that he really liked you then pulling away at the last second. Angry at yourself. Angry that after all these years, all it took was one stupid boy to bring down all your walls; angry that you let yourself be led into this situation.

And so that morning, instead of letting yourself mope around about it anymore, you picked yourself up with a new determination. You were angry, and everyone was going to know about it. Your braids were pulled extra tight, not in the mood to deal with flyaways or gentleness, and the smudged eyeliner around your eyes served as a reminder of the tears you’d wasted.

There was a much shorter line at the Lava Wall than usual. Although skipping out on activities could earn you some shitty chores or revoked dessert privileges, your bad mood had seeped into the whole area, practically lowering the temperature around you. You only had a few newer campers dare to enter your territory, and it took a Herculean effort to not snap at them for even coming near you.

Luke watched you from afar, hidden away in one of his typically safe smoking spots. He was trying to gauge your mood, see if anything was fixable. His prospects currently looked grim. He watched in anticipation as a young girl made a dumb mistake. Luke thought it wouldn’t have been her fault — Chiron had made him tour her around camp only a few weeks ago and she’d been pretty beat up before she got to camp. He watched you yank her off the Lava Wall moments before disaster, and held his breath as you both seemed to falter. The girl looked like she was going to burst into tears, and your face was unreadable, which was usually not a good thing. Just as he thought you were going to take out all your feelings on the scared kid, you crouched down to her level, thumb wiping away her spilled tears. You spoke softly to her, bringing her down from an impending breakdown with a gentleness that didn’t often emerge at camp.

The interaction gave Luke some hope, maybe your heart hadn’t totally closed off. That thought was quashed, however, when minutes later you ripped Travis Stoll a new one for being an ‘egotistical dickhead’ as he fooled around on the wall. Luke was genuinely shocked at the volume which came from your body, he could have mistaken it for a conch horn. Even Travis seemed a little taken aback at your outburst. Usually your bad moods were pretty easy to avoid — stay out of your way and you stayed away from others. Clearly today, though, you had anger to get out of your system, and you weren’t hesitant in expressing it.

You were still upset by lunchtime, and your day only got worse.

“Dance for me, cowboy,” Katy Gardener yelled, evil grin shining across the Dining Pavilion. You kept your head down and ignored it, hurrying to your table. A body popped up in front of you, blocking your path.

“What do we owe you for the table dance, babe?” Ethan crooned, and if you were in a slightly more private setting you would have decked him. You grumbled out a “Fuck you,” and shoved past him towards Drew, knowing that at least she wouldn’t reproach you in public. Ethan clearly wasn’t done with you yet, though, and began an all too innocent conversation with Mr D.

“Why don’t you ask how her weekend was, Mr D?” He said, throwing a casual glance over to you.

“Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb ass, Elton, I don’t wanna hear it.” You could have kissed Mr D, and then immediately recoiled at the thought. Ethan’s embarrassed expression was enough to please you though, and you sunk into your meal silently, but at least not active with anger.

After lunch Luke tried to apologise to you, or explain himself at least. He knew you were upset, but he was still feeling good about himself. He had noble intentions, and was doing objectively the right thing by not taking advantage of you when you were drunk. None of these sentiments were expressed, though, when you stormed right past him, making sure to land an extra aggressive stomp on his foot as you went. Chris couldn’t hold back his loud laugh, clapping Luke on the back in semi-sympathy as he headed to his own next activity. Luke stood dumbly in his spot for a few minutes, unsure of how exactly to proceed. Clearly you were more upset than he thought.

Your own next activity was Ancient Greek with Mr D. You didn’t know why he taught it at all given you personally thought he was hardly fluent, but it was one activity you actually didn’t mind, especially as you got older. Whilst the younger kids had lessons focused on getting used to the alphabet and language, the elder campers who were more fluent had more traditional ‘english’ classes — learning about texts and languages, only in Ancient Greek so the dyslexia didn’t slow you down as much.

You shot Mr D a tightlipped smile as you walked into the pavilion, hoping to get by the lesson unscathed, though you didn’t have much hope. Both Ethan and Luke were in this class, and you really didn’t want to see either (though Luke usually skipped, so he wasn’t such a pressing issue).

Just your luck, Ethan was already in his unassigned assigned seat behind you, filling in the campers who didn’t attend the party about your escapades. You just rolled your eyes, trying to seem somewhat graceful about your own actions, but the leering eyes of your peers was making it supremely difficult. For once you did regret not making many friends at camp — if you had, maybe your humiliation wouldn’t be such a hot topic, but the very presence of your class reminded you why you had no interest in being friends with them.

The room thankfully quietened down when Mr D walked in, the whole camp somewhat wary of his temper. He started the lesson: Shakespeare. You perked up a bit from your slouched position in the chair. Whilst school wasn’t exactly your strong point with the ADHD and dyslexia, Shakespeare was something you actually kind of understood. When you were younger your Dad had taken you and Silena to a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you’d loved it ever since. Shakespeare translated into Greek was maybe your dream.

Mr D started talking about sonnets, and you got the distinct impression that he didn’t totally know what he was talking about — or just didn’t care enough to go into any detail. You figured that was more correct since he was the god of theatre, but you could never be totally sure with Dionysus. Regardless, he’d moved on from explaining the basic form of a sonnet and had set you a project: write your own version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 141. You sat straighter in your seat, unable to hide the small smile that had crept onto your face. You raised your hand, slightly offended by Mr D’s eye roll.

“Yes, Miss I-have-an-opinion-about-everything?” He sighed, but you persevered nonetheless.

“Do you want it in iambic pentameter?” You asked.

“You’re not going to fight me on this?” He hesitated, and you revelled in the fact that you could still surprise him after all these years.

“No, I think it’s a really good assignment.”

“You’re just messing with me, right Barton?”

“Beauregard,” You corrected for the thousandth time, “But no. I’m really excited to write it.” You picked uncomfortably at your cargos as the class watched your exchange.

“Go see Chiron.”

“What?”

“Get out!” He yelled, not quite angry but you weren’t going to be the one to test him. There were rumours of previous campers who’d been turned into dolphins and you did not want to continue that legacy. You wandered out of Greek class, still slightly confused at what had just happened, and headed back to your cabin, not bothering to go see Chiron. With the cabin to yourself you tried to get a start on Mr D’s project, but inspiration was lacking and you resorted to taking a nap instead.

The rift between you and Luke became public knowledge at that night’s campfire. Without even realising it you’d started sitting with him most nights (or rather he sat with you, bothering you until you submitted to a conversation). Then suddenly you were avoiding him like the plague, spitting out a harsh “Get fucked, Castellan,” when he called your name softly, almost begging you to talk to him. You were never one to back down from your decisions though, and left him in the dust, taking a seat next to Clarisse. You could tell even Chris could see something was seriously wrong as he pressed a kiss to Clarisse’s hand and disappeared somewhere, presumably to sit with Luke.

You didn’t even really know why you were at the campfire in the first place. You’d been only a handful of times before you knew Luke, and now you didn’t want to know him yet here you were. Clarisse tried to keep you entertained with her quiet comments — which did admittedly make you snort a laugh once or twice, but you were otherwise miserable. You sure as hell weren’t going to participate or chat to anyone, and you were really regretting not just pursuing your usual routine of getting to the top of the Aphrodite cabin for stargazing. Plus, you could feel Luke’s eyes following your every move, and you were getting fed up with the kicked puppy act.

Your final straw was the singing — why was everyone in Camp Half-Blood so obsessed with singing? The second some douchebag from Apollo brought out a guitar you were done, launching yourself out of your seat and stomping back towards your cabin for some peace and quiet. Just as you were crossing the threshold out of the amphitheatre a hand grabbed your arm and you whirled around to face the culprit, ripping your arm out of his embrace.

“Touch me again, Castellan, and I swear to the Gods I will make sure you have no hands to use.”

“Look, I just wanted—”

“I don’t care, Castellan. We don’t always get what we want, do we?” You knew you were being mean, but you frankly didn’t care. When Luke was shocked into silence, mouth slightly open as he searched for anything to say, you took the opportunity to leave him in the dust, trying to keep your confident walk even as your legs were shaking slightly.

“Bro, what did you do to her?” Beckendorf approached Luke up near the exit of the amphitheatre.

“I didn’t do anything,” Luke snapped, before taking a beat to calm himself down, “She would’ve been too drunk to remember.”

“But the plan was working!”

“What do you care? I thought you wanted out.” A slight blush crept on Beckendorf’s face, accompanying the dumb grin.

“Yeah, well I did, but, um, that was until she kissed me.” Despite his own bad luck, Luke couldn’t help but be happy for Beckendorf, slightly hating the fact that the lame younger boy had grown on him significantly. He let Charles ramble about the kiss for a bit despite his decreasing interest in the conversation, very glad when Percy joined them.

“So I talked to Clarisse,” He said, and Luke knew by his tone the news wasn’t going to be good. Beckendorf was still hopeful (or just naive) though, and pestered him for more details. “’Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns’ is the direct quote.” All three of them grimaced, yet Beckendorf persisted.

“Hey, we don’t know. She might just need a day to cool off.” Luke thought back to the bruise you’d left on his foot earlier in the day.

“Maybe two.”

The Aphrodite kids were all in archery except you, who’d claimed to be sick to get out of it. So, Silena was on her own and vulnerable to Ethan approaching.

“Hey there, Cupid.” He popped up behind her, not noticing the grimace creeping onto Silena’s face.

“Hi, Ethan.” She refused to look at him, focusing instead on aiming her arrow.

“I want to talk about the end of summer dance.” Silena rolled her eyes as the rest of her siblings pretended to mind their own business despite their innate need to know what was going on.

“Look, you know the deal. I can’t go if my sister doesn’t.” The end of summer dance was exactly what it sounded like; a big party for all the kids at camp to celebrate the three months they’d spent together and send off the kids who weren’t staying all year round. Though the actual dance was supervised, it was a well known secret that all of the older campers stayed out through the night drinking and dancing, and most of the folk around camp turned a blind eye for the night. Usually, your dad would pick you up just before the party started, which would inevitably result in a fight between you and Silena. Now though, Silena wasn’t quite so against leaving early, wanting out of the boy drama she’d found herself in.

“Your sister is going,” Ethan said, puffing out his chest as if it made him look more manly. Silena’s surprise was genuine.

“Since when?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking care of it,” Was all Ethan said before walking away, confident swagger in his step as he passed in front of your siblings, and Silena wondered how many of them were holding back the urge to let go of their arrow as he crossed them.

Still, Ethan had to make good on his word, so he found himself approaching Luke again. Rummaging around in his pockets, Ethan presented him with 200 dollars in cash. Luke raised an eyebrow, not bothering with words.

“This should take care of everything for the dance. I’m sure you don’t own anything presentable so this is for a new outfit, flowers for her, whatever. As long as she comes to the dance.” Luke stared at him, and was disgusted at what he was feeling. He might’ve been growing a conscience, something that would be greatly inconvenient for his life as the scary, unsociable older guy at camp.

“I’m sick of your game,” He said finally, pushing the cash back towards Ethan, who frowned. Luke got the distinct feeling he’d never been told no before — except by you, of course. Ethan exaggerated a huff and reached back into his pocket, pulling out one more hundred dollar bill. Luke faltered. He was sick of hurting you, but three hundred dollars was a lot of money. And without any way of making income as a year-rounder it was only more attractive. So Luke swallowed his pride and his morals and took the money. Though, getting you to ever consider going out with him again was basically a hopeless case.

So Luke began his new quest of getting you to speak to him again. He’d shown up to the Lava Wall full of audacity and enthusiasm, and waited patiently in line as you helped the other kids, pretending you couldn’t see him. When it was clear he wasn’t going to leave — or have his turn on the climbing wall — until you acknowledged him, you rolled your eyes aggressively.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, gesturing for the Athena kid standing behind Luke to have her turn.

“I want to improve my time,” He smiled, and you could tell he thought he was being cute. You only partly secretly agreed.

“You’re so…” You trailed off, unable to find a word appropriate for your audience of children.

“Charming?” He asked, and there was that smile again. “Wholesome?”

“Unwelcome,” You settled on, turning back to your duties.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know that?” You froze for a second, then told the kid waiting to start to hold on until you could get rid of him.

“And you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ohh, someone still has their panties in a twist!”

“Don’t for one minute think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties,” You scoffed, subconsciously adjusting your denim shorts.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” Despite the two of you clearly arguing, there was a surprisingly vulnerable look in his eyes. You ignored it.

“Other than my upchuck reflex? Nothing.” You turned on your heel, making it clear the conversation was over.

You were absent from that night’s campfire, which Luke was grateful for since Percy and Beckendorf had much to say about the plan, none good.

“So she’s still majorly pissed,” Percy started and Luke snorted.

“Yeah, got that, genius.”

“Well the question is, how do you stop a girl from being mad?” Beckendorf asked, and Luke could only cringe at how they sounded. With the way the three of them were talking, any passerby would surely think they were three prepubescent virgins. From next to them, Annabeth sighed harshly.

“Look, Luke. You embarrassed her, her ego’s taken a hit. Devastating for any girl, especially damaging for a daughter of Aphrodite. You need to get on her level; even the score and embarrass yourself for her.” The boys sat back, stunned. One by one they processed the instructions, nodding slowly. Thank the Gods for Annabeth Chase was the only thing Luke could think.

With much planning and a little bit of outside involvement (Luke swapped some of his chores with Clarisse’s to get her to agree), the plan was set in motion.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can make fun of the little kids singing Disney songs?” Clarisse lay on your bed as you cleaned your bunk area and you looked at her skeptically.

“Why tonight? We never go to the sing alongs.”

“Dunno,” She shrugged, “Something to do. Plus, summer’s almost over and soon we won’t get to spend any time together.” You grinned, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

“Aw,” You cooed, “I knew you liked me deep down.” Clarisse swatted your hand away but smiled nonetheless, and the two of you stayed huddled up on your bunk gossiping until dinner.

Swayed by Clarisse’s begging, the two of you ended up at the sing along, much too close to the front for your liking. You struggled through the karaoke songs, only staying to commentate to Clarisse. You’d heard one too many awful renditions of classic childhood pop songs when the amphitheatre went quiet, no one knowing who was meant to be leading the next song.

“You’re just too good to be true,” The voice rang out into the night, unaccompanied voice making you gasp immediately in recognition. This was your favourite song, but hardly anyone knew that. It was the song you used to dance to with your dad when you were a kid, before you even knew you were a demigod.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” People were murmuring now, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from and who it belonged to — no one who’d sung before for sure.

“You feel like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much,” You gasped again as you saw the figure emerge from the darkness. Luke Castellan was singing at the camp sing along. You couldn’t hold in your giggle as he continued to sing a cappella, coming into the light of the stage. He seemed to be searching for something though, eyes roving over the audience.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” His eyes locked with yours; he found what he was looking for. Before you could dwell on the incredibly cheesy act, music swelled to life, the Apollo musicians seemingly having learnt the piece beforehand. You wondered how much planning went into this. Your joy only increased as Luke began to dance; dorky, outdated moves that made you laugh out loud — a sound so unfamiliar that a few campers had to look back to check it was really you. You laughed and clapped along with everyone else, thoroughly enjoying Luke embarrassing himself in front of the whole camp.

The performance had to end at some point though, and you found yourself rising out of your seat to give a standing ovation, whooping and cheering along with everyone else. By chance you caught a glance of Clarisse’s face to see her already watching you, a satisfied look evident on her face. You were confused for a second before a memory struck you — a late night on the roof trading drunk secrets and stories where you told her about your childhood connection to Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You. You were floored, and also kind of flattered. You knew it would have taken a lot for Luke to go to Clarisse for help — she was scary when she was pissed, and she was definitely pissed at Luke after the party.

You felt that little ball of light start to flicker in your chest again, and you were scared. But more than that you were excited. Despite everything else about you, you were a daughter of Aphrodite and a teenage girl, and the most romantic thing to ever happen at camp just happened to you. You guessed Luke had probably grovelled enough, and you would’ve told him that immediately if he hadn’t been swarmed by campers congratulating or laughing at him. Deciding you couldn’t put yourself in the middle of that crowd, you settled on telling him in the morning.

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anthroparis · 7 months

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nourtney au

hi. commission details are here if you're interested in more writing. this was based on the image made by @totaldramatakestakestakestakes

It was cold. That, perhaps, was the last thought Courtney had before she fell asleep.

It was well past dark, some days after the challenge had started, and there was a strong breeze combing through the trees and the flimsy wooden shacks Chris had been trying to pass off as cabins.

Courtney had been absolutely determined to stay awake the longest. She was already on thin ice, having chickened out of the last challenge, and she'd already spent a collective four hours bragging to her teammates about how many all-nighters she'd pulled during her class council campaign.

"Oh, yeah. It was tough, no doubt, but I adapted. I practically became nocturnal!"

"OMG, that's so cool," Katie said, braiding a strand of Sadie's hair. "I could like, never do that. I need my seven hours or I get all bloated."

"Totally, me too," Sadie added. "So did you win?"

Courtney's eye twitched- an involuntary reaction to bothersome situations.

"No. But I came close, so close, and it was totally rigged anyway. Stevie Mallard won just because she was junior prom queen... Popularity is a disease,"

"OMG, I wanna be a prom queen!" Sadie squealed.

"Me too! Let's totally be prom queens next year,"

The two squealed and Courtney rolled her eyes.

She had something to prove. Not just to secure her place on the team, but to show all those airheaded teenage clones that popularity was the last thing that mattered in this game. Courtney didn't have to be popular to win, and that's what drew her to the show in the first place. Not that she'd ever admit it- she was perfectly comfortable keeping her reasoning to herself.

Besides, anything Courtney would say about the droving hordes of addle-brained fame chasers here would just make her sound edgy and jaded, like that freaky goth chick. Keeping chipper and positive was an essential part of any team leader, and it was what made her such an effective C.I.T.

No. Courtney didn't have to be popular. She just had to be competent.

Falling asleep, then, was suicide.

She didn't dream. She rarely did.

It was warm when she woke up.

For a moment, Courtney wondered if she'd been carried back to the cabins and tucked into bed, like her father used to when she fell asleep in the car on their long drives home. He hadn't done that in some time.

But as she was brought back from the great empty void of sleep, she reminded herself there was no one tender enough to lift her from her cold bed on the ground and carry her somewhere safe. And that's how she preferred it. This was a competition, after all, and to let her guard down like that would be a sign of weakness. She was a leader. Not a baby.

Courtney's eyes opened a sliver and she adjusted to the morning light, the cold wash of silver highlighting everything in gentle tones, as if she'd woken up on the moon. She watched a ladybug crawl across the grass mere inches from her face and closed her eyes again. Just a few more minutes...

The warmth was close. It was on her, surrounding her, enveloping her in a blanket of safety. If she kept her eyes shut and focused on her breathing, she could imagine she was back at the time in her life when she got carried to bed, surrounded by quilted blankets and stuffed animals that, by now, had either been donated or tossed.

The ladybug made its way up her arm and around her neck before settling on her ear. It seemed to stall, its tiny legs padding around on her skin and sending shivers up her spine. It must've been a huge ladybug, because...

Courtney's eyes shot open and a cold rush of adrenaline flooded her body, immediately drowning her fantasies of home. She jolted from where she'd been resting and shrieked, the "ladybug" following suit, sitting up and shouting himself.

"HEY!" Courtney yelled, scooting away from him. "You pervert!"

"Hah!" Duncan laughed from behind her, gesturing with the shank he'd been using to carve a stick into a stake. "Looks like everyone's trying to get a slice of C.I.T. pie today, huh?"

"SHUT UP, DUNCAN!" Courtney shouted. "Butt out!"

"I just call it like I see it, man,"

Courtney turned back to the boy, who had shrunk in on himself. He was blushing furiously and unsuccessfully trying to hide it.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?!"

He thought for a moment. "Um. No,"

"Ugh! You're neanderthals- all of you!" Courtney snapped, turning to Duncan to hammer in her point. He rolled his eyes.

By the time she'd whirled back around, he had vanished. She sighed. "Men!"

"Keep crying, sweetheart, it won't bring your boytoy back," Duncan flicked a wood shaving off his shorts.

"Can't you mind your own business?"

"Whatever. Shouldn't you go check on your boyfriend?"

Courtney growled at him and stood, making a point to storm off. She wished he'd care enough to feel a little bad, but when she looked back he'd returned to poking his handcrafted spear at Harold.

She stumbled into the mess hall and yawned, plopping down at an empty table and slumping forward, resting her head on the surface. She tried not to think about the splinters and carpenter ants as she closed her eyes again.

What a miserable start to the season this had been. Courtney was losing around every corner, and it was leaving her with the uncanny feeling that she was falling from a high place to a hard landing below. Her stomach churned and her chest ached with every reminder of her failures thus far.

That boy, the "ladybug"... what was his name? She couldn't be bothered to remember, or she'd never learned it. It didn't matter- if it was important, she'd know. Courtney was sure of that.

But, whatever it was, she couldn't seem to remember a single thing about him. He was rather... normal for a show like this. Quiet, kept to himself, never made much fuss about anything that wasn't a backhanded compliment or a stinging remark. What a useless team player.

"This seat taken?"

That voice was familiar. Courtney opened her eyes, and there he was. The Ladybug.

"Watch it," she warned.

He held up his hands defensively. "Hey. I didn't mean anything by it, I'm just tired and I wanted a break from the goons outside," he spoke in a dry, unamused tone, and jabbed his thumb behind him.

Courtney thought for a moment, and then sighed. "Fine,"

He took a seat. "Believe it or not, I don't find watching Duncan snort hogies on unconscious people very intellectually stimulating,"

"Ugh, tell me about it," she rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you're not on his team. If I have to smell that atrocious B.O. one more time..."

"Eh, could be worse. You could have Cody,"

"Which one's that?"

"Short. Brown hair. Nerdy,"

"Ah, I know the one. He's like the human amalgamation of every Goodwill I've ever been in,"

Noah laughed, prompting a smile from Courtney. She'd yet to see him happy. It was a warm reminder that humanity still existed on this Golding-esque island.

He continued: "If Cody is Goodwill, then Duncan is Autozone,"

"Duncan is more like a flaming dumpster outside a defunct Tim Hortons,"

Another laugh. Courtney felt an odd sense of accomplishment for that, like she was getting a good grade in something.

"You know, you're not so bad," he smiled. "Your bite is much worse than your bark, huh?"

"I guess you could say that," she shrugged. "I'm just here to play and stay off of people's bad sides. I don't need to make friends."

"Eh, you say that now, but it'll happen," he said. "It always does."

She scoffed. "Not for me,"

A silence hung over them for a few moments. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm Noah, by the way. You don't seem the type to remember names,"

"I try not to concern myself with details that don't matter," Courtney announced, curtly. Then she realized that what she said sounded rude and slowly backtracked. "But... thank you. I'm Courtney."

"I already knew that. Unlike you, I like to observe before I act,"

"I'll try to take that as a compliment,"

"You should,"

The two smiled at each other for a moment before the door to the mess hall burst open and Harold ran in screaming, covered in spiders. Duncan's laughing followed from outside.

Courtney sighed. "I should get back out there,"

"You don't have to,"

"Well, unlike you, I feel a sense of duty to my team," she smiled, somewhat playfully. "Someone's got to lead."

"Sure. Whatever you say, Miss C.I.T.," Noah smiled back, equally as biting. "Have fun."

"I won't!"

#nourtney #enjoy your food fandom I remember nothing about

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blooming-violets · 1 year

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People aren’t “weird af” for liking a different form of immersion in what they choose to read. YN/Reader fics have helped me as a POC to be able to enjoy works with characters I love. Fandom is so whitewashed that it’s honestly a fucking relief to read a neutral, nondescript reader then another white girl who blushes with white coded hair texture/style, features, and backgrounds. You don’t have to write it or like it, but don’t judge people who actually benefit from it.

Yeah that is not the take I was going for at all and you're reading far too into something. You turned my half assed statement into an argument that was not being had. I'll base that on the fact that you can't interrupt people's vocal inflections or facial expressions through words written on the screen but, I promise you, it was not that deep, baby.

Nothing I said was remotely serious or meant to be taken as anything more than someone drunkenly ranting to a friend. That's how I talk on and off the internet. If I was speaking what I said out loud, I would have been saying it with a smile and laugh and a way to poke fun at something I sometimes find vaguely mildly annoying (and I really don't even think it's that annoying, I just like to yell). I don't know how you turned me ranting and joke screaming about naming a fictional woman into whitewashing and a statement about poc but that was not the conversation I was having.

Me saying people are weird af is not me actually thinking that people are weird for liking something. It's the way I speak. It's hyperbole. It's a grand, screaming, over the top gesture about something very little and insignificant. Hyperbole. It's a fucking name. That's it. A name. I was yelling about names at midnight on a Wednesday night, on tumblr, about Peter Parker fanfiction. It was not serious. It was not an attack on people who enjoy that shit. I enjoy that shit. I read it AND write it. I write Reader, non-descript characters LITERALLY all the time.

You read that post in an angry light but it was not an angry post. I'm sorry I didn't add /s at the end of it. Sue me. I take it you are not familiar with me and/or someone who has ever interacted with me on the internet before and that's fine. So, hi, I'm Katie and nothing I say on the internet is ever serious and everything I say is thick with sarcasm and feigned screaming about meaningless things. I never said people who enjoy y/n should burn in hell but now that is my official statement. EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO HAS EVER ENJOYED A READER FIC SHOULD BURN IN HELL AND I HATE THEM ALL. Including me. If you read that statement and think I am being entirely seriously then I am not the person to be following because we are not on the same mental vibe waves.

And, just to add, who the hell ever said that the oc's being written about aren't badass, amazing poc?? Why is it if I add a name and description, suddenly that means they are white? I do not understand the logic. I never said "if I give this woman a name, it means she's white now" ??

You're weird af. That doesn't mean it's a bad thing though. Be weird. Don't let random strangers make you feel bad. Let shit roll off your back. Not everything is a personal attack. Some things are silly and pointless. Surprisingly, not every thing you read is said in attack mode meant to harm others. Let me yell about useless shit on the internet. I'm screaming into a void of nothing. Nothing matters. Everything is pointless. It's Peter Parker fanfiction. Nothing is serious.

It will all be okay.

#asks

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theheadgirl · 2 years

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31 Days of Fear, hosted by @hp-fearfest

Day 31: Alone (read on AO3 here)

Everything is looking up for Oliver Wood. His team is like a well-oiled machine, they've practiced and practiced, and he's got a brand-new boyfriend (maybe? they've kissed but haven't put a label on it) to impress. Now, out on the field for their first game of his last year, it's time to prove how good they are, and that they deserve the House Cup that he's going to have by the end of the year. He focuses on the action on the pitch, switching between the Quaffle and the other players, ready to snap into action at any time. The game is going well, so far. It's a tight lead - not impossible for Slytherin to catch up, but it'll be up to his star Chasers to make it more insurmountable … and him, too, he supposes, blocking their goals.

Speaking of -

He catches the Quaffle handily and tosses it back to Katie. Feeling heat along the back of his shoulders, he turns and smirks at Marcus Flint, who's glaring at him like he's trying to kill him with just the power of his stare. Oliver tosses off a sardonic salute and goes back to circling the goalposts, checking in with the twins, the Chasers, Potter.

He dives for another save and catches it. Tossing it back out to Angelina, he's barely got enough time to look back up before something slams into his chest, hard. The world seems to slow down and he feels himself arching backwards, falling off his broom. The cheers, the screaming, the blast of the whistle are all strangely muted, and his own breathing seems so loud. The air whistles past his ears as he falls, and slowly, slowly, he closes his eyes -

-they shoot back open, and the strange slowness that took over earlier is gone, and he's still falling. Above is nothing but a whitish-blue expanse - the sky, he thinks, which feels like it ought to be obvious but his mind is reeling, overwhelmed, so he states it - and he looks to either side. The same whitish-blue expanse as far as he can see: no trees, no clouds, no buildings, no nothing. He twists in the air, gasping at a sharp pain from his ribs, and looks at what he thinks is down.

It's the same. Nothing. Nothing as far as the eye can see. Not even a horizon, not a cloud. Nothing. He can feel himself starting to hyperventilate: where the hell is he? What did Flint hit him with?

Calm down, Wood, calm down! he chastises himself. Panicking won't help. Get your damn wand. He twists again, grimacing against the pain in his chest, and manages to dig his wand out of his boot. Now Apparate. It's fine. You'll get back to Hogwarts and punch Flint right in his stupid face.

He closes his eyes. Destination is easy. Determination is easy. Deliberation, when you're falling into nothing, is more complicated, but he still tries to take a step forward. For a moment, the lung-crushing sensation of Apparition closes around him, then, just as suddenly, it releases.

"No!" he yells out loud. "No! I want to go home!" He tries again, again, but it's not taking, it's not taking, and

he's

still

falling

and he screams in frustration, heedless of the pain in his chest.

He feels tears being ripped from his eyes by the rushing wind, and realizes that he is entirely helpless, and completely alone. No one knows where he is. No one can come for him. He can't Apparate out. It's just him and the void. Maybe he'll fall forever.

Maybe he'll die here.

The feeling of empty helplessness is a new, strange one for this Gryffindor, who's always able to strategize his way out, who sticks with it to the end, who has never faced a problem he couldn't make a play to solve. But this … this is beyond him. It's beyond playbooks and strategy. Whatever happened to him, whatever Flint threw at him, he can't fix it.

He doesn't even know how long he's been falling. Thirty seconds, ten minutes, an hour? He has no sense of time, and even if he could get to his watch under his gauntlet, it would only tell him what time it was in Scotland. It wouldn't tell him anything he actually wants to know.

He takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes.

Screaming around him. It's deafening. Oliver's eyes fly open again, and he has just enough time to catch a glimpse of a pale, terrified-looking redhead clutching the edge of the Gryffindor stands, staring down at him, before he hits the ground and everything goes black.

Author's Note: And that's thirty-one days! Thank you again to @hp-fearfest for hosting, to those who left kudos or comments on AO3, who reblogged or liked on Tumblr, and to you, for reading! I started writing this on August 9 and finished up on October 3, and I'm so, so proud of the work I've done. Happy haunting!

#hpfearfest2022 #31daysoffearfest #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oliver wood #percy/oliver

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actual-changeling · 3 years

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my followers watching me mass reblog supergirl posts once a week:

me, who just thinks Katie McGrath is hot and loves lesbians:

#alex yells at the void #supergirl #supercorp #katie mcgrath #lena luthor #lesbian #shitpost #look i am not watching this show #i stopped after season three? it think? i don't even know anymore it was a while back #but i AM invested in seeing lena grow up to be happy and healthy #and hopefully finally fucking kara #but until then i'm just thirsting after katie because goddamn

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iskierka · 2 years

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my hatred for instagram food sensitivity tests is deep & profound ❤️

#like. yells into the void every time I see another of those ads #katie speaks

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slurmware · 3 years

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im watching mitchells vs the machines and I LOVE IT SO FAR AAAA

#also. not to be the guy whos like 'is that a homestuck reference' but.#ppl in katies group chat were named jade and dirk and. 👀#also its made me cry in the first 20 mins so Its Going Great #i really like it tho!!#void yelling

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tari-aldarion · 4 years

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I was flirting with a guy for hookup related reasons and then he started with some “I had such a crush on you years ago and you’re just as sweet as I remember” bullshit

and I’m like .......I didn’t ask for this

#ughhh im just yelling into the void now #i didnt want FEELINGS #i wanted to FUCK #jfc now what do i do #DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY ADVICE HERE #because the last time this happened #i ended up dating the guy for a very terrible 9 months #idek #katie rambles

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k-yers · 1 year

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As I sit here, trying to buy Fall Out Boy concert tickets, I keep remembering how this blog used to be a band blog like 10 years ago

#it used to be nothing but fob patd atl etc #thanks for the memories I guess #musing #fall out boy #katie yells into the void

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astrofireworks · 6 years

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(creds: glitterbaby_99) @softsocky katie are you seeing this

#rip #vivi yells into the void #katie #infinity

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dameronology · 3 years

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you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

#why am i low key in love with katie?#i want a tall woman who smells of strawberries :(#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers fluff #avengers angst #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

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