I’m Into Submissive Little Men Who Look Like They’re Dying! If U Won’t Be Asking Me To Spare U

why are some tumblr writers so fucking entitled?💀 like why are basically forcing people to reblog your work? Talking about "Only likes will be blocked" just don't post your shit at this point lmaooo 😭😭

(more in the tags!)

if i said miss americana & the heartbreak prince…….

🥩🗡️

i wanna draw a female marauders comic bud i have no ideas. my life is hell 😁

thinking about this again

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.

ok um marauders band au but it’s the 90’s and they all go to a creative arts boarding school and are in the schools music program

the marauders start a band after james falls in love with lily, the singer of her own band with mary and marlene :)

the marauders r kinda like “umm cringe af.” at first but they get really into it very quickly

the girls take notice and lilys kinda weirded out bc it’s obviously a tactic to get close to her

but after realising how dedicated james and the other r she lets her guard down and rehearsed with them from time to time.

marlene mckinnon gives me early 2000’s taylor swift energy ! tell me u don’t see it.

picture with Prismo and Scarab making ocs on Prismo's pc #125

please please please please THEYRE SOOOO CLOSE THEYRE SOOOOO CLOSE IM GONNA CRY

⋆· ༘* you belong with me !

pairing ★ jock!luke castellan x drum major!reader

synopsis ★ the one where you come back from winter break and start operation cupid. meanwhile, charles and silena meddle in your affairs on their own mission. (3.9k)

content ★ no pronouns used for reader, lowk photography/carnival date weewoo, bad matchmaking shenanigans, will they wont they, best viewed mobile obv

notes ★ ngl this went in a slightly skewed direction than what i put in the synop, subtext reading may be needed to figure out what charles and silena r doing to meddle.

series masterlist

operation: cupid aka super evil plan >:)

NO ↓ ← yes ← ABSOLUTELY NOT

— blind date

— CARNIVAL @ ANTHOS FEST ^^ ok thats good

— get hmart napa 4 mom NOT A GROCERY LIST!!!

— fake dating? OPINION REJECTED

— SAYING TO GO SMWHERE AND THEN DITCHING THEM TOGETHER ^^ is this a romcom or smth??

You shift your shoulder to let your phone press closer to your ear, cringing at the uncomfortable warmth from the screen.

“So the festival’s a go,” you say, loud enough to be heard over the dishes. “All VAPA will be there early for the parade. Make sure you get to Hesperides Park at noon and meet at the big apple tree.”

“There are, like, fifteen apple trees in the park,” Luke says, voice bouncing around the tinny speakers of your phone. “Besides, the festival’s in February. We have weeks.”

“We’ve started practicing already,” you tell him, adjusting your shoulder again. “There’s a run through on the track next Tuesday, if you need some shots for yearbook.”

Luke hums and you hear him shift around over the phone, the noise captured between satellites. “Okay, I’ll be there. What are you doing right now?”

A plate clinks into the prongs of the drying rack, water running rivulets down your arm. You cringe when the soapy streams reach and soak into the edges of your rolled-up sleeves.

“Finishing the dishes,” you tell him after a moment.

You think Luke bites back a grunt, moving around again. There’s background noise with him, soft and faint. You think you can hear music, too.

“I’m getting napa cabbages for my mom. She’s been practicing kimchi,” he tells you, and then you hear the whine of a grocery fridge. “Do you like Asian soft drinks, by the way? Got a coupon.”

You consider it, turning off the sink and drying your hands. They feel all crunchy now, skin tight over your bones with the winter’s absence of moisture. You really need to remember to put on some lotion.

“Nothing too sweet, maybe fruity. I’ll pay you back if you buy Pocky.” You exit the kitchen, fuzzy slippers padding on the floorboards. You hear a staticky thud, and the whirring from the fridge stops.

Luke sighs, the sound nestled pleasantly in your eardrums. You flop onto your bed, listening to the not-silence. He talks faintly, words far-off and lost in the background, whirs and beeps and plastic crinkling.

He speaks finally, “I didn’t know how much you wanted…so. You owe me ten.”

You scoff, sardonic and not at all serious. “Fuck you, man.”

His world on the other side goes quiet for a heartbeat.

“Well,” he says, breaking the pause, “I’ll see you on Monday with the goods.”

“You sound like a dealer.”

“Yea, a dealer in love.” He sneers out the last word, a smile sewn into his voice.

You groan and hover your thumb over the hang-up button. “Cringe, go back to watching your Grand Prix or whatever.”

“Hey, pre-season testing hasn’t even started.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, sliding a palm down your face. “I’m hanging up.”

Not even five seconds after you press the red button, he calls you again. You swipe to accept begrudgingly, and then Luke’s voice cracks back into existence.

“You forgot to say goodbye. That’s bad manners, you know.”

“Good-fucking-bye, Castellan.”

He laughs, the sound of it swirling in your stomach strangely. “Thank you, major. See you Monday.”

You toss your phone to the foot of your bed when the line cuts and tangle your legs in the blankets, mortified at the heat curling around your neck.

♫ TV Girl ・Taking What’s Not Yours

[ IMAGE: a photo of you in your band uniform, baton in hand and a silver whistle looped around your neck. The jacket is orange with a pale yellow lining, gold buttons glimmering, and you wear a pair of black, straight-legged slacks. Your face is half eclipsed by the shadow of your cap. The photo may have been taken with an old digital camera, giving it a washed-out, nostalgic look. ]

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lukestellans sweepstakes at anthos fest, congrats @.majmajmaj

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majmajmaj dont tag theyre gna find me

↳ travstole fratrnisng w the enemy ICKK 🫵🤮 ↳ anniebethc That’s not the right spelling for ‘fraternizing’. You should enable auto-correct on your device settings.

The weather under the fruit trees is better than out in the street. You’ve shed your itchy uniform jacket, opting to just wear the loose, white under-tee to cope with the temperature. At least the metal of your camera keeps your hands cool, and the dry breeze that filters through the verdant boughs sends soothing, dappled shadows stretching across the grass.

It’s hot, and unbearably so. Marching down Zeus City Boulevard from the high school to city hall was hell; it’s only late winter, almost early spring, and the temperature is already in the high seventies. You can only dread the heat come summertime.

“If you told me it was this tree,” and Luke’s coming around the trunk, camera strap strung over his torso and glasses hanging from his shirt collar, “I could’ve gotten here sooner.”

Castellan pats the bark, disregarding the sign that reads DO NOT TOUCH welded to the small fence that encircles the roots. You try not to look at his arm, lean and veined, the pale stretch of skin under his bicep growing larger as the sleeve of his airy polo rides up.

You clear your throat, fiddling with the settings of your own camera. Around you, children shriek and dash in the alleys between the carnival game stalls.

“This is the apple tree, everyone knows that.”

“I told you,” Castellan says, rolling his eyes, “that there are a ton of them here.”

You snap a quick shot of some teens sharing a big, pink cloud of cotton candy. They’re smiling wide, wrinkles of joy arrowing around their mouths. It would have been a nice picture if not for the overexposure—you kiss your teeth and delete it.

“Sorry, was I supposed to say the biggest apple tree planted by Mayor Hera’s great-grandmother, coincidentally also named Hera, in the park next to city hall?”

He shrugs, making a face of agreement. “It would’ve helped. You also could’ve mentioned that it was the golden apple tree and not one of the red apple trees.”

You snag a fallen fruit off the grass, turning it in your hands. “Does this look lustrously golden to you?”

“Fine, the yellow apple tree.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, slipping it into your camera bag. You can already feel the imminent sweat stain forming under where the thick strap rests on your shoulder, and hope that Castellan won’t take notice

“You aren’t supposed to take the fallen apples, you know.”

You look at him, brows raised innocuously. “Who took what?”

Before he can chide you again, Charles steps up to your side, wearing the same black slacks and white under-tee. Castellan doesn’t seem fazed, unfolding the arms of his thin-framed glasses and pushing them up his nose.

Your bandmate stiffens when Silena skips over, still in pep uniform, her manicured fingers wrapping around Castellan’s shoulder. It’s the first time you've looked at Silena closely, all shiny black hair and round face—she’s more cherubic now that she’s right there in front of you, full-bodied and not as slight as you’d previously thought she was.

She waves at you, cute nails glimmering pale pink in the dappled shade.

“Hi,” she’s smiling, a little giddy, honeyed kick to her voice, “I’m Silena. Luke told me a lot about you.”

( Now you kind of get why Charles and half the guys and girls at school have a crush on her. )

You try to play it cool. “Really? I didn’t know he talked about me.”

She nods, and her dark hair sways mesmerizing with the movement. Castellan looks away, embarrassment creeping up his neck. You elbow Charles in the ribs when he stays silent for too long.

He speaks, although the words are punched-out and tremoring. “I’m Charles Beckendorf.”

Silena smiles politely, lips pink and glossy, eyes a bit too wide. “I know.”

Charles is a big, tall guy. Most people who don’t know better would think he did football and go about their lives not knowing that he used to be four feet zero and played piccolo since sixth grade.

So when the cheerleader of his dreams smiles at him, you can quite literally feel his body temperature rise, the skin of your arm prickling even though he’s standing half a foot away.

“I think,” Castellan pipes up, strained, his eye twitching, “I actually have to go take some pictures for yearbook.”

He’s really fucking bad at this matchmaking shit.

“Yea—” and your voice comes out in a near squeak too “—uh, Charles, you can go with Silena. I need stuff for Heralds too.”

Okay, you’re just as bad as Castellan.

Charles shifts, confused. “You sure? We could just all go together and hang out while you do your thing.”

You and Castellan—and Silena too?—nearly shout in protest. The cheerleader laughs it off and stiffly walks over to Charles, taking his wrist gently and tiptoeing to whisper to him. The rate at which the air around your fellow drum major heats up could be considered exponential.

Charles chuckles awkwardly and steps back, wrapping his hand around Silena’s in return. “Yea, right. We’ll meet back at sunset?”

“Sure,” Castellan says, putting up a hand, arm too stiff to wave. “See you.”

Silena skips away with Charles behind her. You breathe a sigh of relief in unison and drop down onto the grass, legs splaying over the green blades.

Castellan joins you on the ground, pinching his shirt and flapping it in an attempt to cool off.

“That was fucking painful.”

“No shit, major.”

You huff, prickles creeping up your neck. The shade barely does anything against the heat now, a stiff breeze blowing hot air through the fibers of your loose shirt. Castellan looks as worse for wear as you do, nose crinkled and hair gone wild.

A puff of air makes its way out of his lips. “So what now?”

You groan and stagger up, standing on weak legs. “We should follow them just in case.”

Castellan squints up at you, dappled shadows burnishing his face, curls bouncing leisurely in the wind. He groans and holds up his hand, jello-limbed and sloth-like. You take him by the wrist and heave until he’s standing.

“The first thing Charles does when he gets set loose in a carnival,” you tell Castellan—he’s chasing your steps doggedly, blushed from the heat, “is buy cotton candy.”

“So what do you do?” he asks, a hand shielding his eyes from the unforgiving sunlight.

“I’m gonna pay the stall operator to make an extra large one so they can share.”

“No, I mean what do you normally do at a carnival?”

You slow down momentarily, nearly tripping over yourself. “Uh…I kinda skip the festival most years. It’s too hot most of the time.”

“Oh,” he says, a little dumb with the way his mouth hangs open by a smidge. “I normally get tickets for the games first.”

“Cool,” you tell him absently, searching for the volunteer-run food stalls, “we can try that next year.”

He’s weirdly silent, the blunt of the sudden quiet unnerving you.

( You do not realize your mistake until after the festival ends. )

Percy and Annabeth are operating the cotton candy stall, perspiration beading at their hairlines and ridiculous aprons hung over their white tees. It seems that everyone in band decided to forgo the ugly-ass jacket, and for good reason.

You sneak around the back, Castellan not far off, pulling two five dollar bills from your pocket.

Hissing, “Percy, Annabeth.”

The girl turns, braids swinging in the air. They nearly hit Percy across the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Annabeth asks in a high-pitched whisper. She does a double-take at Castellan. “What are you doing here?”

Percy looks over Annabeth’s shoulder curiously. “Is that money for me?”

“No time to explain—if Silena and Charles order two cotton candies, I need you to lie and just give them a super huge one, okay?”

A grin splits Percy’s face wide, eyes gleaming devilishly. You think that the time the Stolls spend bothering him is starting to influence his behavior.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks, fixating on the bill, completely ignoring the customers waiting for their sweets. “Charles getting the girl of his dreams?”

You groan and hold out the money vehemently. “Just take the fucking bribe and act normal!”

The speed at which Percy snatches the two fives could be considered non-human. Yea, the Stolls are definitely rubbing off on him, but he splits the bills, gives half to Annabeth; she often says that she doesn’t care about money, but her eyes sparkle nonetheless.

Huh, interesting.

Castellan pulls you away to hide behind a thick tree trunk. You hold your camera up to your eyes, zooming in on the couple as they converse with Annabeth at the register. Her customer-service smile is strained, eyes wide, a little nervous.

You were right—Charles and Silena hand over their money separately.

Percy gives them a huge cloud of wispy pink sugar—it’s nearly thrice the size of his own head and—makes some lame excuse, probably that they ran out of cotton candy sticks because he’s literally hiding the paper cones behind his back.

Silena asks Charles something and he gives her a nod of agreement. She holds the candy between them—they’re walking shoulder to shoulder now, Charles picking off small clumps and Silena almost skipping with how peppy her steps are.

Mission one accomplished.

You tail them for some time, occasionally snapping pictures of kids playing rigged games and couples holding hands. When you hold up your camera, Castellan does too, and you stand back to back sometimes, taking in every angle of the carnival.

“Wait,” Castellan speaks, putting a hand on your shoulder and pointing the other towards your friends, “they’re walking out of the park.”

You frown. “It’s not even sunset yet.”

He hums—right next to your ear. “I think she’s taking him to that boba shop she likes. It’s close by.”

“So that’s good, right?”

“Yea.”

“So mission accomplished, I can go home?”

Castellan chuckles, sliding his hand cautiously from your shoulder to your wrist. His touch is light, barely a feather’s weight.

“Nuh-uh,” he grins, shit-eating. “We’re playing the games.”

You protest but don’t make any move to break away, “They’re rigged, dumbass. It’s a waste of money.”

“We need to pass the time somehow. Remember we’re meeting back at sunset to watch the fireworks?”

“Ah, fuck you.”

He leads you all the way to the ticket booths, fingers sending tingles burning up your arm when he secures a wristband around your wrist. Castellan tugs you along by the wristband thereafter, flitting between rubber duck and ping pong ball and dart games.

He wins some, loses some. You win none and lose a lot. It’s mainly him catching prizes, and you have to cross the street to get a bag at a nearby grocery store to hold all the cheap stuffed animals.

You pass by the boba shop, brightly lit and colorful, and Charles waves at you from inside. Silena makes an enthusiastic heart with her hands and Castellan blushes, looping his fingers under your wristband and darting away.

♫ Sonic Youth ・Sunday

[ IMAGE: Two pairs of beaten sneakers facing each other on a well-tended stretch of grass. Luke’s scuffed Air Forces are easily recognizable with a small Spiderman doodle at the toe. His middle and index fingers extend in a peace sign at the top of the frame, meeting the points of yours at the bottom in a diamond shape. ]

Liked by lukestellans and 255 others

majmajmaj sunday comes n sunday goes

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perciusjakcsn CHAT R U SEEING THIS 🫢

↳ naka.ethan git saw them holdin hands n walking round the fest 🤢 ↳ conmanstole sm1 ask annie if we can disown a drum major or smth

travstole sarge connor says he was joking n to pls unblock him 🙏

FROM: becky d

(18:32) so silenas kinda tired (18:32) gna walk her home

TO: becky d

(18:34) oh? 😏 (18:34) wait no ur gna miss the fireworks (19:00) BECKY ANSWER ME WHAT ABT THE FIREWORKS (19:01) fake friend bc now m stuck w castellan until fireworks 😭

FROM: becky d

(19:45) yk u dont hafta stay right… (19:45) cant even take good pics in the dark w out lookin goofy in flash

Charles had texted you halfway through sunset, the sky beginning to pinken along with broad, orange brushstrokes of sunlight—yet you still hang around between the apple trees and the carnival stalls. It’s well into the night, temperature dropping steeply, and the once stiff breeze has you suppressing a shudder.

Castellan must be feeling the change too, because he stands so impossibly close that each time the space between you two decreases by some increment, sparks begin to unspools from your nerves and smart along your skin.

“Fireworks in a few,” remarks Castellan, pocketing his phone. “D’you know Phaestus does them?”

You pick absently at the skin beside your nail. “Like the woodworking teacher?”

“Yea.”

“Cool.” It’s stilted, stiff and brittle. Now that you know for sure that Charles has left you for the wolves, you don’t see much reason in staying longer. The only problem is getting out without feeling guilty for ditching Castellan—not that you’d feel bad for him. “I dunno if I can stay, though.”

The boy furrows his brow, a little line forming on his forehead. “Why not? It’s barely eight.”

How do you tell Castellan that you want to be far, far away from him? That at the same time, you want to press yourself into and through his skin and twine around his bones?

“Uh…I need to finish my apps.”

“College apps got submitted like, a month ago.”

Fuck, shit, fuck again. You desperately need to take a masterclass in lying your way out of situations. Castellan slides his warm fingers under your flimsy wristband, tugs on it lightly.

It barely makes a mark in your skin despite the fact that he’s been pulling on it for practically half the day. The cheap material scrapes against your wrist when he tugs it again, something skating too quick to place up your spine.

He smiles, small with undisguised encouragement. “Let’s try the Ferris wheel.”

“No way.”

Castellan laughs and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, thumb pressed to your pulse point. “Look, we haven’t gone on any rides, and honestly, the Ferris wheel’s a lot better than that.”

He tilts his head towards the Kamikaze ride: two hammer-shaped structures swinging around in 360 degree arcs like a pendulum. You can hear someone wailing faintly, cries fading in and out in time with each rotation. You aren’t too sure, but it sounds vaguely like that one sophomore trombone kid…Grover Underwood?

( At least, that’s what you think his name is. It’s hard to keep track of who’s who when the Stolls’ stupid and distracting antics preoccupy a majority of your attention during practice. )

You rub the strap of your camera between your thumb and index finger, weighing your options.

“Fine.”

Castellan cheers, pumping his fist and pulling you towards the empty line. People begin to race to the queue as the time for fireworks begins to near, but you and Castellan beat them all to it.

He slides onto the bench and you take the one opposite of him, placing the bag of cheap stuffed animals next to you. You take one—a squishy black cat—and squeeze it, watching the plush expand between your fingers.

Castellan’s got an angry-looking dog in his lap, playing with its soft polyester ears. You see him backlit by artificial light, all carnival colors and little house windows. From a distance, a rocket gets set off, a faint boom echoing sputters of red.

Without thinking, you raise your camera up and snap a picture of the firework’s colors splattering over his frame. A snap of the shutter and then you find he’s looking right at you, eyes gleaming, face softened by the night.

You’re then distracted by a flurry of pops, a bright, phosphorescent shower sparkling on the horizon. Your head feels hazy, cloudy, too stuffed with sugar like a half-developed photograph of what’s happened today.

A shutter, a snap. Castellan holding his camera up to his eyes. You both lean together, foreheads magnetic, pulling up the pictures you just took. The fireworks continue to sound off, faint and forgotten.

In his photo of you: your shoulders are relaxed, lips in a shallow part. The black cat plush is squished under your forearm, camera half-held by your loose fingers and all-hanging from the strap looped over your neck. Everything’s backlit blue and green and white like an aquarium, sea foam threaded in the phosphorescent fireworks.

In your photo of him: he’s painted a pale red, carnival lights splashing anywhere else they can. You can’t even tell what the color of his shirt really is like this. Castellan’s hair has the image of it being freshly mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. The angry dog lays lopsided in his grip, expression warped under his fingers.

You’re about to open your dry, dry mouth when the wheel comes to a stop and a worker yanks open the door roughly. You hurry out with Castellan not far behind.

“I gotta go,” you say, jutting your thumb towards the end of the street. You’re really telling the truth this time; it’s nearly nine and you have a stats test on Monday. Or, tomorrow. You can’t really think straight when Castellan’s right next to you.

He touches your shoulder, fingers careful. “Send me that picture, ‘kay? See you tomorrow in math.”

Castellan’s hand peels away when he begins to step backward slowly, waiting for you to say something before he leaves. You wet your lips quickly, molars teething at the inside of your cheek.

“Yea, I’ll see you. Good luck on the test.”

His lips quirk, smile lines arrowing in his skin. He waves, and you wave back. Like two ships passing in the night.

[ IMAGE: a blurry, unprofessional, iPhone camera photo angled towards the sky and extra-zoomed in on two unidentifiable teens sitting on opposite sides of a Ferris wheel car. Their outlines are lit in neon carnival lights and soft fireworks, heads bent together. ]

Liked by anniebethc and 214 others

perciusjakcsn why r the rides diabolical af 😭

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tankadreww waittt whos in the ferris 😮

groovewood FUCK kamikaze all my homies HATE kamikaze i almost saw god three times

↳ anniebethc Can confirm, the Kamikaze was terrible.

majmajmaj werent the fireworks past ur bedtime percival,,,

↳ perciusjakcsn NO AND FYI ITS PERSEUS JUST LIKE HOW UR MAJOR NOT SERGEANT ↳ majmajmaj THEN WHY DONT U CALL ME MAJOR U FUCKING DUMBASS

p.s. ★ nearly finished w this, we have two more chapters left!! might take a small break next week until finals season and journalism summer work is done obliterating me

sharing is caring, so pls rb and also lmk ur thoughts ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩

luke tags (closed); @melllinaa @amortencjja @arsonnaire @m00ng4z3r @saltair-and-palemoonlight @witch-lemon @ahh-chickens @spiderbeam @jennapancake @traumatrios @omg--bluexx @dangelnleif @apolloscastellan @hiraethavis @lukecastellandefender @bookshelfminstrel @cherr-y-eji @solangelotus @liviessun @thaliagracesgf @ddarling-ddearest-ddead

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