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#the selfish protector
krashlite · 2 months
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I p I promise I’m not trying to vilify c!Scott but so many problems keep leading back to him the more I analyze this goddamn series and I’m shaking him around like a goddamn ragdoll Sir why are you Like This
Edit: in trying to unpack why he’s like this I went down a very parasocial rabbit hole so I’m j I’m just gonna put that one back in the box actually
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teruel-a-witch · 1 year
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thinking about how danny spent very little time with steve before he (correctly) deduced that he suffered a lot of parental neglect ('you weren't hugged as a child, were you?'). of course, steve's knee-jerk response is to deny that because people who had an abnormal childhood don't realise it wasn't the norm because it's the only life they knew, only when they tell a 'funny' story that is met with a horrified look of someone who grew up in a well-adjusted family that they are confronted with the uncomfortable truth: that the perfect 'childhood' they lost after the trauma wasn't so perfect after all.
the fact that steve was only angry because of abandonment and not the cold bootcamp way he was raised shows he didn't know any better. even when he had a mother she wasn't the kissing-a-skinned-knee-better kind. it would still take years of therapy and gentle coaxing from danny for him to unpack all of that.
i can imagine many a time steve probably shared what he thought was an amusing 'anecdote' from his childhood only for danny to go all compassionate 'aw, babe' on him.
'what's the story behind this scar?'
'oh, it's kind of a funny one, i was playing outside by myself and heard pathetic whining nearby. turned out a stray dog fell into a construction pit. poor gal couldn't get out on her own so i climbed down to get her out, except my hand landed on a piece of rebar and... well. it was a kind of deep cut, but clean, i couldn't stitch it up by myself yet because i was seven so i put some antiseptic on it and waited for my mom to come home from work. it hurt a lot but i didn't cry because my mom always said 'big boys don't cry'. when she saw what happened she yelled at me and since it wasn't infected she said there's no need to go to the doctor, sure it would scar without stitching but the scar would remind me to be less clumsy and not to jump into pits willy-nilly. anyway, isn't it funny how clumsy i was when i was 7. why are you looking at me like that?'
it's honestly a wonder steve ended up with such a soft and big heart despite everything, because neglect could have made him cold, selfish, hard, insensitive to the feelings of others because no one cared about his.
instead, steve loves 'fixing broken toys' (literally and figuratively, ex. him gently gluing back the small cat figurine that danny broke) this 'child forgot lessons of love untaught' is surprisingly good at comforting people and being gentle.
there's a reason his big soft heart is what danny loves most about him. because he understands, given his background, how easily steve could have been different, could have perpetuated the cycle instead of breaking it.
truly, he has so much love to give. because no one wanted it from him, he never had anyone to give it to.
he was taught to shove all those soft feelings deep because they are only an obstacle in being a perfect soldier.
and then there's danny who says 'i'll take it, give it all to me, i want it, it doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong, that's why I love you, babe', and steve can finally pour all that love he's had pent up into someone, show his gooey centre without fear of being stabbed into it.
it is any wonder he decides he is gonna love danny till his dying day. tragically, since no one's taught him what love looks like he never realises danny loves him in return.
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sketching-shark · 5 months
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Golden Cicada + Canon I outright reject
Ooooo interesting choice anon! Especially since there's so little know about that guy in the first place lmao. As is with the creative license that is non-description I've seen people give Golden Cicada every form from a pretty regular looking human monk to a full-on man-sized cicada yaoguai, and there's nothing in the text to confirm or reject any one of these interpretations.
THAT SAID, given the hints of what Golden Cicada's incarnations went through before he became Tang Sanzang (probably getting devoured one after the other by Sha Wujing for starters), and given everything that our beloved weepy monk went through before he reached Enlightenment apparently as a way to make up for his past misdeeds, I guess my "rejection" of Golden Cicada canon isn't so much a rejection as it is an expansion of what him being "heedless" of Buddha would have actually been. Because just falling asleep during one of Buddha's lectures doesn't seem like something you would need nine lives and then 14+ years of trials to make up for; making the choice to ultimately reject Buddha's teachings so that you could perhaps be like a number of other figures in Xiyouji and live it up on Earth as a yaoguai warlord before meeting your untimely fate, however, does seem something that would throw you into the cycle of samsara for around ten more rounds before you got back to a state of Enlightenment lol.
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invinciblerodent · 2 months
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himh I'll make a Dark Urge that's so fucking scared
big scary bloodsoaked killer, tearing through armies with her literal bare hands? nah. a quiet, scared girl who doesn't understand why she does what she does, why she can do what she can, but is, at the same time, deeply disgusted by herself because she has just enough self-awareness to know to be repulsed.
maybe it's because I'm a tiny bit obsessed with clinging to the thought that people, at the end of the day, are fundamentally good, no matter what. that there is a fundamental human goodness in all people that makes them worthy of redemption, or at least of the opportunity for atonement.
maybe the way I want to play a story like that is with someone who, stripped from indoctrination and free for the first time to think for herself and embrace and be who she is, finds that in the deepest, most hidden pits of her soul, she is not the strong, kind, resilient person she might want to be. try as the might, she is not someone who can bear the weight of her own past, she's just a... a terrified, broken little girl, cowering in the shadows and unable to look herself in the eye. (which also gives me ideas for her relationship with Orin but that's a little bit beside the point)
cathartic self-insert who. therapy? what is that. is it on Steam or Epic.
#video games are cheaper than therapy i know from experience#squirrel plays bg3#oc: mara#watching my partner play his durge last night i had Thoughts#so far i'm thinking that this intense fear will be what initially draws my girl to Karlach#because karlach is so.... bright. and exuberant. and even chivalrous in her way#she's so LOUDLY good that her presence is louder than even the fear and... there is something really sweet about that#it'll be a bit of a change of pace for me to REALLY lean into playing a character who... isn't a protector in any way#someone who doesn't put their feelings last#not even out of pure obligation or self-preservation#but rather they are someone who NEEDS comfort and protection#and at the same time IS the danger itself yknow#(my default boys Arvid and Ray are sort of different flavors of a “kinght” archetype)#(the former is the “courage is overcoming fear”-type)#(the latter is the “fate's puppet; thrown at ever-increasing horrors until one finally kills him [and maybe he'll even welcome that]” type)#(Iona may be the most emotionally intelligent but she is in survival mode for a long time which complicates things)#(Petyr is selfish and kinda.... phlegmatic; performatively indifferent until he's yanked from it)#(but Mara will be... feeling ALL of her feelings. and I think Karlach will make her feel the closest to what she can think of as “normal”)#(there's perpetrator guilt. and shame. and fear. disgust at her own urges. intrusive thoughts and bodily reactions that disturb her.)#(i think she'll be pretty fascinating to play)#(holy tag novel dang)
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The problem with both Feminism (the political movement) and Anti-Feminism (the political movement) is that they give spineless, selfish men a free pass, in mirror image of each other. The one says that Womyn is Capable Of Anything A Man Is Capable Of (or more so, let's be honest, there are plenty of women who think that we as a society don't need men to function which is just... stunningly idiotic). The other says Well Women Have Fought To Be Equal so Any Woman Who Needs Help For Anything Is Just Entitled (which I just got told by a sterling example of the male sex. I blocked him.)
Or, in summary, Feminism (the political movement) is reeking misandry and Anti-Feminism (the political movement) is reeking misogyny.
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hel-phoenyx · 3 months
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TIL while checking my Steam achievements that you can get the achievement "Ceremorphosis" even if Tav/Durge doesn't become illithid, and another member of the party does
What I meant to say is that sorry and thank you Karlach you earned me an early achievement
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dnangelic · 7 months
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daisuke being self-effacing while dark is lucifer coded and likewise exemplifies pride as his greatest sin (and virtue) 👍
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padfootastic · 1 year
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J/egulus’s dynamic is very funny for me if they both just hate each other, and for the exact same reason: they both despise that Sirius loves this other person so much. Sirius loves his little brother, and James hates that Regulus can hurt Sirius so easily, and that Regulus has the audacity to think that Sirius doesn’t adore him; James knows what path Regulus is headed on but so does Sirius, and it hurts James to watch Sirius get his heart broken as time goes on and Regulus gets in deeper and deeper with the Death Eaters. Regulus hates James for taking his brother away and making Sirius quit loving him, Sirius would’ve gone to Slytherin if not for him and Sirius would still be at home. It’s very interesting to me if James and Regulus utterly despise each other, and the root of this is Sirius and their contradicting views of who Sirius is
no but i think about this way too often for someone who doesn’t rly give a shit about reg and is mostly indifferent or annoyed by him. i’m so much more interested by james and regulus’ dynamic the way you described—there’s a lot of potential for angst, as well as a toxic relationship sort of a deal, ykno?
i do wonder how they navigate it. tbh. because i’m me, i think james’ reasons are much more valid (logically/morally speaking) but ofc, from an emotional standpoint, u can’t negate reg either. and that’s tough, right, because both of them firmly believe they’re in the right. james has the added complication of having to navigate complicated blood-familial ties whereas reg has to come to terms with the fact that chosen family is just as (if not more) important for sirius and he has to both acknowledge and accept them before doing anything else.
sirius is just so—central to both of their lives and identities? and the way they perceive him is so different that they might never reconcile it, ykno? and idk, i feel like in a canon universe, they might just go their whole lives being quietly disdainful but tolerant of each others presence, only so they do not hurt sirius. and i’m sure that peace is hard won—there would’ve been times when they came to blows (or wands?) and both of them had to be on the other of an angry/disappointed sirius and they realised, quick, that they’d rather shut up and deal with it than go through that again.
of course, the only time they manage to put their dislike away is when someone/thing is threatening sirius and they realise he’s more important than their feelings. but that’s a given.
#james potter#sirius black#regulus black#i think that last point—we’ve talked about it before yeah?#i’m pretty sure i got an ask like that#around the black family speculations time#it’s just—fascinating how sirius evokes these kind of protective intense feelings from both r and j#but on completely different ends of the spectrum#james comes from a protector angle—he wants to keep sirius shielded from undesirable hurtful elements#whereas reg is more selfish—bc this is his big brother and he’s the protected and he wants that again#and he probably doesn’t realise. for a long time. that the real enemy is their parents and family not sirius#(and i can see like. maybe. an older reg who’s gone thru shit and had to grow up realising this#and maybe even thanking james/apologising to him in a very stilted sort of a way#for looking out for sirius)#but that’s a bit far fetched and depends on ur conception of reg i think#also interesting to think about is where sirius falls in the middle of this dynamic#is he aware? does he turn a blind eye? does he threaten both of them? is he secretly touched?#personally i think he doesn’t realise the extent of animosity#and considers the matter closed once he confronts both of them#and i don’t think he ever quite realise the depth of devotion he inspires in both of them#bc that would realise him to have a strong firm hold on his own self worth#which we know is decimated by the conditional love of the blacks#but that’s another tangent lol#pen’s asks
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fideidefenswhore · 2 years
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[Thomas] Seymour had asked [for his daughter] Mary to be sent to live with her mother's friend, the Duchess of Suffolk. Lady Suffolk did not readily agree to this [due to the cost] ; [...] to persuade her, the Duchess of Somerset promised that Mary's possessions, including her silver tableware, should be transported with her. This settled the matter and [Mary did indeed reside the Duchess of Suffolk] [...] Unfortunately, however, Lady Somerset's promise proved worthless, and Mary's valuables disappeared into the Duchess [of Somerset]'s grasping possession. At the same time, Protector Somerset refused to pay the infant's pension.
NORTON, E. (2016). The Temptation of Elizabeth Tudor: Elizabeth I, Thomas Seymour, and the Making of a Virgin Queen.
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What should I be doing? Sleeping!
What am I doing? ...Not that
Why am I not doing what I should be doing? I legit don't know my brain won't let me stop I've been lying here listening to Sanders Sides podfics for about three hours trying to fall asleep.
This is the worst.
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lina-lovebug · 3 months
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I'd Fight The Devil
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Pairing: Alastor x fem! reader
Background: reader is Lilith and Lucifers oldest, and resembles Lilith more. Lucifer has a hard time bonding with her because of this, and Alastor decides to step in.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"DAD'S COMING?!"
(Y/N) Morningstar, firstborn daughter of Lilith and Lucifer, was currently having a breakdown over the fact that her father was on his way to the hotel.
She'd have no issue leaving, of course, but Charlie tricked her dear old sister into staying by saying she needed help with the hotel. . .and told her their dad was coming when he was two minutes away.
It's not like she didn't miss him, but things became different once their mother disappeared. Lucifer threw himself into his ideas, and (Y/N) tried maintaining their relationship but he couldn't even stand the look of her.
"I'm sorry! But I thought maybe you guys could talk while he's here?" Charlie suggested with a gulp, twiddling her fingers.
"I'm done trying with dad. If he wants to talk, he can come to me," (Y/N) crossed her arms, firm on her stance.
"I never thought I'd meet someone with worse daddy issues, but here you are, cher," Alastor, with his famous grin, looked down at the Princess of Hell. She huffed, not in the mood for his side comments.
"Alastor, please-"
"He's here!"
"-please fucking hide me!" She ran behind him, despite the mass amount of blonde hair making it obvious.
He chuckled.
Honestly, since meeting the eldest Morningstar, Alastor deemed himself her Protector. Not that the girl wasn't capable or needed him persay, but he cared for her. Being on the aroace spectrum, he wasn't plagued by a selfish desire to fuck her, but it was a sweet concern that slowly turned into a need to be near her.
A need to make her his.
"Hopefully he doesn't-"
"Pumpkin?"
"Fuck," (Y/N) silently cursed under her breath before Alastor stepped aside.
"Hey dad," Lucifer felt a pang in his sinister heart at her tone. She sounded uncomfortable and wouldn't even look at him, but he also remembered that he couldn't look at her at times.
It reminded him of happier times.
Times he didn't want to be reminded of anymore.
"So how've you been? Heard you've got a fancy job now. Probably making loads of money, huh?" He chuckled nervously.
"Dad, it's my company. I made it."
And he couldn't even remember that she did that?
Any dad would remember that his child created her own business.
"Ouch."
"And it's got a fucking duck on the logo. God, dad," She rose her voice, "you can't even remember that?"
"I've been busy, pumpkin-"
"Too busy to call? Too busy to even fucking call?!"
Charlie flinched at the harshness in her voice. She's always been a firecracker but she's never seen her so angry.
"I'm not fighting with you, (Y/N)," Lucifer stepped towards her, "why do you insist on fighting? Especially when I'm here for Charlie."
"Oh, you're here for Charlie?" Her horns started to come up through her skin, rolling back like a rams.
Just like her mom.
"I'm not making this about me. I just wish you'd make the effort instead of it having to be me," She missed who he was.
And during this, Alastor could see the pain on her face. She was furious, and rightfully so.
But he let her fight her own battles.
"I'm sorry that I look like mom. Is that what you want me to say?!"
"Yes!"
He didn't mean it. Of fucking course he didn't mean it, but it slipped out.
"Dad! That's enough!" Charlie ran to her, seeing tears well up in her sisters eyes. "How could you say that?"
"Pumpkin, I-"
"Don't," She sniffled, holding Charlie close, "don't come near me."
But he didn't listen.
He hated being the fact that his little girl was crying because of him.
"I think you've come far enough," Alastor spoke, getting infront of Charlie and (Y/N). He is excellent at saving face, so his pure unadulterated rage was hidden beneath his smile.
She hiccuped behind him, sobbing into Charlie's shoulder.
"Don't make me move you," Lucifer glared.
"And don't make me fucking kill you for hurting what's mine."
His voice turned more static-like than before, his eyes a burning red and his horns outstretched. He was a fucking shield for his Princess, and not even the King of Hell could get through. Lucifer recognized this and humbly backed away, retreating with his tail between his legs.
_ _ ☆ _ _
(Y/N) spent the next hour crying in her room. Over the years, she had started to hate herself for looking like her mom, and Lucifers' confirmation only reaffirmed it.
"Need anything else?" Charlie asked her. Although her sister wasn't searching for redemption, she had her own personal room in the hotel.
"Can you get Alasto-?"
A knock sounded at the door.
"Was he there the whole time?" She sniffled, and a muffled "maybe" came through the door.
Her bed was surrounded by napkins that she quickly placed on her bedside as Charlie allowed Alastor inside.
Alone.
The two of them.
Might as well just throw them condoms and say get to it, is what (Y/N) was thinking. She's known about her crush on The Radio Demon for a few months now, having a fantasy dream here and there, but wasn't much of an active person herself.
"Thank you. I know he tried to fix it, but I couldn't stand to look at him," Her puffy eyes made Alastors eye twitch, still a small spout of anger for her father.
"Of course, my dear," He sat himself next to her on the bed.
"Because your father, although the King of Hell, is a fucking coward", is what he wanted to say but kept those words for himself.
"Did you mean it? That I'm yours?" She asked, her hand inching closer to his.
"I never say anything I don't mean, cher," He grabbed her hand, kissed it, and made the she-demon gasp.
"I thought you hated touch."
He chuckled, "Oh, I do, but not if it's you. Your skin is warm, and it brings me comfort. You bring me comfort."
"You'd have me, even if I want to be glued to your side? Even having petty fights with my dad?"
"Darling, I'd wear your skin if you asked."
"Oh, how romantic," She blushed before both his hands came up to her face, bringing her into a needy kiss. With her, he needed to feel her.
Someday, even all of her.
"And I'd eat demons with you," She whispered against his lips.
"Oh my heart may burst, my dear."
Taglist: @lorkai @droopingdatura @tr1coo @randomuser-89 @abbiedail @evelin1o1 @sseleniaa
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supercutszns · 4 months
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Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸
fighting chance; luke castellan
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wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader
synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.
warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3
notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!
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You’re not much of a fighter.
That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Unless you’re a child of Ares.
People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.
Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.
There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.
The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.
He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.
He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.
The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.
“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.
“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”
“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.
You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.
He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”
“Confer?”
“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”
A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.
“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”
It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?
“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.
He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.
“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”
“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.
You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”
His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.
“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”
It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.
The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.
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You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”
You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.
“All good?” He asks gently.
It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”
Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.
“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.
He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.
“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”
Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.
“And you’ve always got our flag.”
You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.
He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.
There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.
Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.
The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.
Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”
“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”
“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.
Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.
“Luke—”
“I’ll find her!”
He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.
He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.
It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.
“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”
The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.
“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.
You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”
“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”
The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.
Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.
You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.
The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.
“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”
Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.
Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.
Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.
The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.
Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.
And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.
“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.
The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.
“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”
“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”
“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.
“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”
“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.
“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”
It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.
The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”
Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”
He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.
Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.
“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”
Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.
The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”
“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”
He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”
You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.
You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”
You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.
“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”
You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”
“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”
“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”
You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.
Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”
“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”
You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.
“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”
Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”
The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.
“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.
“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”
“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”
“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.
You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”
It makes you smile. “So second-best?”
“Tied for first.”
He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.
“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”
“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”
You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.
Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.
“Don’t care,” Luke says.
You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”
“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”
You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.
You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.
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wiisagi-maiingan · 4 months
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This idea that all indigenous people are noble protectors of nature who never ever do anything to hurt their ancestral lands is so fucked lmao. Like it or not but there are absolutely indigenous people who raze forests to the ground and approve mining projects that poison water and encourage hunting and fishing practices that are known to be harmful and let oil companies tear apart their lands. Many of those people even hold authority positions in their tribes.
Indigenous people are not magical forest guardians who commune with the spirits of nature to always make the best choices. Many of us are selfish and cruel and ignorant and self-righteous, willing to risk our lands and communities for money and personal gain. That doesn't make us evil and it doesn't magically strip away our indigeneity, it just makes us human.
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astrolovecosmos · 8 months
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❤️‍🔥Venus & Mars❤️‍🔥
Written from the perspective of Venus representing femininity and Mars masculinity. Please take this with a grain of salt.
Aries Venus: Warrior Queen, hellfire eyes, won't take no for an answer, upfront, hungry for action, red petals and lips, all eyes on her, can leave a burn or scar.
Aries Mars: Ardent eyes and lips, fiery protector, a good competitor, rescuer, conquering libido, always at 100, hot days and unforgettable nights.
Taurus Venus: Irresistible charm or look, low-key seductive, enduring and magnetic, slow burn, dream weddings or dates, romantic touch, comforting and content, careful with hearts.
Taurus Mars: Caring hands, hedonistic attitudes, down-to-earth until they're not, things are always on their time, level-headed or stable assertiveness, smells good, shares with those they love their soft spot.
Gemini Venus: Shapeshifting enchantress, leading you astray or into ecstasy or both, bright feathers and dazzling wings, sharp talons and a sharper tongue, curious creature, get lost in her eyes, movements, or storms.
Gemini Mars: Lightning-fast energy but airy to be around, wins you over with humor, takes pride in his intellect, upbeat and always around a crowd or working one, bewitches with ease and passion.
Cancer Venus: Mysterious and soft glows, gentle and kind, a protective force of nature, messy and engulfing feelings, hard to fall but when they do they fall hard, can be others safety, gets her way.
Cancer Mars: Silent and strong type or insightful and tenderhearted, deep and sensitive, trustworthy vibes, that moody artist or introverted mystery, a wall or door people are tempted to investigate, a powerful guardian, never gives up.
Leo Venus: Strength and beauty of a goddess, instant connections and passion, object of adoration or desire, demands your attention, worship and heart, romance in their veins, she is the sun - center of your universe.
Leo Mars: Draws you in with his performance, wins, or adventures, brave in the bedroom, will risk it all, life of the party, maybe vain or selfish but always on top, a king, lust and power, feverish and flirty, are you his muse, trophy, or queen?
Virgo Venus: The answer to all your prayers or questions, devoted blood, sensuous and erotic, always has it together, earthy vibes and quiet affection, thoughtful, but may bite, will you grow with her or will she outgrow you?
Virgo Mars: Innocent eyes with a mischievous or know-it-all smirk, reliable arms, secret vitality but not-so secret intellect and wit, observational, appreciative, discerning in preferences and partners, will work hard for you but what will you do for them?
Libra Venus: You can't miss her when she walks into a room, candlelight and wine, charm, beauty, and brains, falls easily, likely has a line of admirers, elegance and grace, now you know why lust and love are seen as ✨magic✨.
Libra Mars: Knows how to make you happy or calm, secretly a hunting hound, hard to resist, if you're with him you're BEAUTIFUL, affectionate and chivalrous, charismatic one minute and introverted the next, can you figure him out?
Scorpio Venus: THE seductress, passionate and dramatic temptation and lust, says forever and means it, rapacious lover, deep and hypnotic, a heart-stopping and mystic medusa, jealous and unforgiving but will give you everything.
Scorpio Mars: Eyes that look into your soul, the dark and edgy type, sex-appeal is their weapon along with mystery or secrecy, an intense enigma, sensitive yet powerfully assertive, an unstoppable force, may be obsessive or easily misunderstood but knows you more intimately than anyone else.
Sagittarius Venus: For true adventurers only, free spirit and a rebellious heart, more independent than you, the most fun you've ever had, a huntress, lucky in love, desire + lust + companionship, can you handle her honesty?
Sagittarius Mars: Always taking their shot, will explore and challenge you, a wild ride, infectious and attractive optimism, humor, or even clumsiness or awkwardness, chronically adaptable and energetic - can you keep up?
Capricorn Venus: Ice you want to melt, respect or admiration are the only options, reliable and grounded, always in control, you know when she's approaching, true faithfulness, hard to satisfy, she's the authority.
Capricorn Mars: Relentless and calculated pursuit, private and cool-headed, #relationshipgoals, provider vibes, an underrated smooth talker, powerful influence and drive, all about longevity...
Aquarius Venus: Magnetic sorceress, intellectual babe, sparkling and different, always keeping you on your toes, can do it all on her own but likes your company, unconventional relationships, falling in slow motion or fast-forwarding into love at high speed.
Aquarius Mars: Visionary wizard with enticing charisma, pushing boundaries, special aurora and bedroom moves, erratic and strong-willed, sees the best in you, channeling passion into each other's minds and bodies.
Pisces Venus: Sensational siren, dreamy and karmic, elusive moments, drowning in feeling, flip a coin for love or lust - throw it in the fountain for both, making your dreams and/or nightmares come true.
Pisces Mars: That hopeless romantic, sweet and sensitive, imaginative moves and touch, will give you their heart and soul, captivating and addicting, your fantasy lover.
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ofwinterandspring · 2 months
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DEMO [updated date] // OTHERS // DISCORD // FAQ
eleven years the northern lands have lived under the council's rule, waiting for you, the heir, to take the forgotten throne. despite the council's good intentions, only you can resolve the issues they've so desperately concealed.
death threats, prophecies, rumors of rebellion, and the rise of animal attacks have left you with no other choice but to take the throne. yet, after all these years, to take the throne you must meet one condition.
will you be able to claim the throne? or will you let the northern lands fall into ruins?
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play as male, female, nonbinary; straight, gay, lesbian, bi/pansexual, demi/asexual + have the chance to set your own pronouns
romance any of the four* characters. all four love interests have fixed genders: two males, one female, one non-binary. tropes include friends to lovers, stuck together, enemies to lovers and forbidden love
customize your heir's personality. there are eight different character traits that will be decided based on the choices you make in the game: charming/blunt, kind/calculated, intelligent/intuitive and cautious/adventurous
customize your heir's feelings. the heir's opinion on three pivotal stances that scour the lands: traditions, immortals and the gifted. your heir's stance on each of these topics will determine their relationship with other characters and pave the road for the taking of their throne
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THE CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD
Inoaz Amihan was only a boy when he joined the Aesian army, now Captain of the Guard and sworn protector of the Heir, his family's safety depends on his ability to carry out a prophecy no one seems to remember.
protective ✘ kind ✘ selfless ✘ perfectionist ✘ dutiful
THE GUARD [SPYMASTER]
Sol Fiera was a young woman when she betrayed her family name. Now a guard and unbeknownst to all, spymaster to the False Queen's Heir, the stability of the throne depends on her ability to renounce her only opportunity for redemption.
direct ✘ pragmatic ✘ independent ✘ intelligent ✘ calculating
PRINCEX OF ILLYION
Halon Rilchanar, in spite of their people's disapproval, set on a journey in search of the Heir of the Northern Lands. To help the Heir reach their potential, they must first earn trust. But, it will prove to be more difficult than they imagine when an old friend refuses to let them do this on their own.
charismatic ✘ gentle ✘ explorer ✘ trustworthy ✘ visionary
BLACKSMITH [LORD OF ZAHAR]
Kasek Faror, in search of his sister, must confront his past to find the answers he seeks. His search takes him to a foreign land seeking an audience with the Lady of the Forest, whose only condition to speak with her is that he re-assumes his long-forgotten title.
adaptable ✘ impulsive ✘ selfish ✘ misunderstood ✘ honest
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nelkcats · 1 year
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Conner Phantom, learning to live
It had been a few years since Vlad and Danny had stopped being enemies, years since Amity had been at peace with the ghosts. Danny spent his days teaching his children (he assumed they were his children) about well, everything.
Dan and Ellie had prefabricated knowledge, the halfa couldn't quite get it, but the point was that while they knew who was the creator of the chemistry, they had no idea how to do 2 + 2, so he made it his homework to fill in all the gaps.
No one at Amity blinked at the 30-year-boy-who-was-actually-12 and the 15-year-girl-who-was-actually-4, Danny guessed they had gotten used to the weirdness. One day, Vlad called and pointed out that someone had entered his database a few months ago (apparently he checked his digital security very little when he didn't make "evil" plans) and they had stolen the plans for the cloning capsule. Danny had a bad feeling.
Of course, it was after a month of searching that he found out about Lex Luthor's little "project." To say that he was angry was an understatement; he found the poor Superboy being mind controlled. He felt sad when he remembered Ellie's situation and well, he ended up stealing a clone child and destroying some laboratory. Like old times.
The world did not know of Phantom; Amity was suspicious, almost jealous that their protector could be taken away if they said a word, so they didn't say anything out of the city. It's not like the League did anything when they called. Danny didn't care, less tedious meetings and contingency plans for him. Besides, he wasn't excited about going back to the field if he didn't have to, as long as Amity was safe, the world could be destroyed for all he cared.
He wondered if spending too much time with Dan was affecting him, but in the end he dismissed the thought. Upon arriving home, Superboy had woken up and was being interrogated by the Phantoms. He chose his name to be Conner (sounds good apparently) and agreed to take classes to fill in the gaps of knowledge, just like Ellie, he seemed uncomfortable with the gaps.
The poor boy looked uncomfortable, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. After finding out whose clone he was, he wondered if they would take him to Superman, but Danny just snorted. By the end of the week, Conner was a Phantom, and he was fine with that. Danny even told him that he could live normally if he wanted to, and the boy happily accepted the offer. Conner didn't want to be a hero, at least not that early, and Danny was happy with his decision.
Danny frowned thinking of all the heroes who would say that is "selfish" for someone with power to not to use it. But he believed that they were doubly selfish. Being a teenage hero wasn't fucking easy. He hugged Conner, welcoming him to the family and within days, the whole town already knew about him (they also knew whose clone he was, but they didn't really care, they weren't snitching).
Curiously, it was Tim Drake who noticed the strange family visiting Gotham (a 23-year-old seemed to be berating a 30-year-old for stealing tires, he snorted at the irony). However he froze when he saw Clark?, but much younger, speaking in Kryptonian and laughing. He called a meeting in the batcave and tried to call the family, but as soon as they saw the expression in his face they vanished from sight.
Hell, he needed to report it to Bruce.
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