Apr 10
Sticker sheet I made recently! ^^ Hades and Hades II <3
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Qatar
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
Sticker sheet I made recently! ^^ Hades and Hades II <3
Do people realize that making victor smooth does NOT make him look younger or pre-infected. Sure he wouldn't have the cracks but we see a picture of him before the whole nemesis parasite and he sure as he'll didn't have skin as smooth as satin.
He has freckles, some crater on his left cheek, some dark spot on his hairline, peach fuzz, eyebags, still has some wrinkles and that's it. Lock in bro, do you really think this guy has any semblance of a skincare routine to be AS smooth as people are modding him to be? That shit does not make him look young, it makes him look unfuckable. He ain't a model and no amount of smoothing him out would change that. Fully transformed victor is more simpable than smooth victor. GET THAT BABY SMOOTH FREAK AWAY AND BRING ME MY STINKY WRINKLED SNAKE DOCTOR NOW!!! people like their wine aged for a reason. (All though victor would probably be more of a century egg than wine).
Onyankapon x Off-Limits
“come back …come back , to me …”
p1 , p2 , p3 , p4 , p5
Every day I think of him—his skin, his scent, the way holding him made time stop. And still… it feels like it doesn’t matter to him.
….Ony swallowed his pride and approached the door, every step heavier than the last. The knocking hadn’t stopped—if anything, it had grown sharper, more impatient, like whoever stood on the other side already knew something they weren’t supposed to.
He paused just before the handle, jaw tightening, listening. Your breathing was uneven behind him, the quiet rustle of you pulling your clothes together only making the silence feel louder.
Another knock. Harder this time.
“Ony,” you whispered, voice tight with panic, “don’t—”
He didn’t answer. His hand hovered over the knob, fingers flexing once before gripping it. For a second, just one, he closed his eyes—like he was bracing himself for whatever came next.
Because if it was who he thought it was…
There’d be no talking his way out of this.
The handle turned.
“Wassup?” Ony frame peaked from the door , staring at his arch nemesis with no compassion just anger .
A single step closer, and Ony’s grip on the door tightened—but with a swift shove, it flew open.
“So when were you gonna tell me?” he snaps, stepping into the apartment—but Ony shoves him back before he can get any farther.
“Watch out… it ain’t even like that, you trippin Connie ’.”
Your brother’s face twists when his eyes land on Ony—disbelief and disgust flashing across it, like he can’t wrap his head around how far this has gone… like he can’t believe he’d cross that line with his sister.
For second the room goes still, you’re still standing there both shoes tucked in your arm , lost for words .
Then it snaps.
Connie lunges toward him with a swift swing before you can even react. It lands hard against Ony’s jaw, the crack echoing through the room. You gasp, running to him as Ony’s head jerks to the side—but he doesn’t fall.
Grabbing his arm he jerks from your grasp , his eyes darkening with hatred even when he hears you speak , “ Constance go home !” But without hesitation he’s swinging back , arm with a full thrust , his fist crashes against your brothers face , sending him into the wall with a heavy thud.
In that moment, you knew you’d pushed your brother far enough. Your chest tightens as you rush to him, hands trembling as you lift him up. “I—I’ll leave,” you promise, voice shaky but earnest, “I’ll never come back.”
Growing up as the only girl, he’d always softened around you. It was enough to see you hurt—but hearing that desperation in your voice, the raw guilt and fear spilling out, finally made him take a deep breath and calm down. His shoulders slump, and for the first time in minutes, the tension in the room eases… just a little.
He’s standing up fixing his face and for once you look back at your boyfriend , he isn’t sure how to feel when he heard what you just promised , “ So it’s like that ?” He grits his teeth looking down at you like the world just crashed over him .
Guilt eats at you, sharp and relentless. “Baby… please…” you whisper, eyes begging that he let it go and go back inside , but he doesn’t answer. You both in the narrow hallway, hearts hammering, words hanging unspoken.
You take a shaky step toward him, but Ony stiffens, blocking your path. His eyes are dark, intense—equal parts frustration and something softer you can’t name. “You can’t just keep running from this,” he mutters, voice low, rough with emotion.
Your chest tightens. “I—I know but would it have changed anything”you cry.
He steps closer, the space between you shrinking until it feels like there’s no room for air. Your heart races not just from fear, but from the pull you still feel toward him. Every part of you aches to reach out, to close the distance—but every second here , every burn of your brothers eyes reminds you how wrong it is.
Ony’s hand brushes your arm, almost gentle, almost warning. “Come on Thalia” Connie growls, and the single command makes your knees weaken. The tension coils tight between you, between wanting to reach for him and go with your brother dangerous and fragile all at once, like one wrong move could shatter everything… or bring you even closer. Guilt eating you alive in this moment , “ I’m sorry Ony…” he’s slamming the door leaving you both in the hallway .
Weeks had passed, though it felt longer. Your mind felt emptier now, colder. You and Ony didn’t speak anymore. Not a word. Not a glance.
You caught his glance some times , across the dining hall , in the same room his presence stabbing you like a knife with every unsaid word . Looking away immediately — he did too . The empty chapter heavy , and unspoken.
Your guilt hadn’t faded; if anything, it had grown sharper. Every time you remembered the fight, the slammed door, the chaos of that night, your chest tightened. And yet, the pull—the ache of wanting him—didn’t go away. It lingered, quiet, simmering, like smoke that wouldn’t fully vanish.
“Niccolo’s birthday is coming up. I was wondering if you want to go out later and help me pick out some gifts for him.”
Your head rests in your arms, eyes scanning the crowded room as if it’s just another typical day, searching through hundreds of faces for him.
“I’ll go…not doing anything later anyway“ Sasha’s all giddy in excitement like it was the best thing she’d heard all day with how strung out you’d been about your breakup you haven’t hung out with her lately but she understands so she never makes a fuss but her smile alone makes you smile .
_______
Later that day, you’re both in Polo, grabbing the last few t-shirts before they sell out completely. The line stretches all the way to the door, but Sasha barely notices—she’s too busy rambling about the surprise party she’s been planning, words spilling over themselves in excitement.
You try to listen. You really do.
But your mind keeps drifting, your focus slipping like you’re not fully there.
“Who’s all coming?” you ask, the question quieter than you meant.
She pauses.
The look she gives you is… off. Like you just missed something important.
“What?” you nudge her shoulder lightly, forcing a small smile, and after a second, she slowly pulls your hands together.
“The fuck …“
Your stomach drops at the sentence alone you turn—too fast.
And there he is.
Ony.
But he’s not alone.
There’s a girl tucked into his side, clinging to him like she belongs there—laughing, leaning into him like it’s natural.
Like it’s easy.
Something inside you twists—tight, sudden, unforgiving. Your chest constricts, your throat burning like every word you ever wanted to say has been stripped away before you could even form them.
For a second, you can’t breathe.
Across the store, Ony isn’t really listening to the girl on his arm.
He’s nodding at the right moments, letting out quiet laughs, but his attention drifts—restless, unfocused. Like something’s off and he can’t place it.
Then he feels it.
That pull.
His eyes lift without thinking—and land on you. Everything in him stills. Out of everyone in the store… it had to be you.
For a split second, his chest tightens in a way he hates—sharp, familiar. His grip on the girl’s waist stiffens just slightly, instinct more than intention.
You look the same. No—worse. Closer. Real.
And suddenly, he’s aware of everything. The distance between you. The girl next to him. The way your eyes lock onto his like nothing in between ever mattered.
He almost smiles.
Almost.
Because that’s what he always does. Plays it off. Makes it easy.
But it falters the second he sees your expression.
That look. He knows all too well.
And just like that, something in his chest drops.
Back in your body, everything feels too loud, too heavy, too much.
His smile fades.
And suddenly it’s all there—everything you tried to bury.
Anger. Longing. Regret.
Four years of something that never really left.
Hanging between you.
Loud. Suffocating. Unspoken.
“It’s okay…” you whisper, but you don’t even know who you’re trying to convince—yourself, or Sasha.
Your eyes feel heavy, glassy, and she doesn’t hesitate. Her hand wraps around your arm, already pulling you away before you can look at him again.
Before you break.
Because it’s only been a month.
A month since four years meant something, right?
And he’s already standing there like it didn’t.
You walked to the car getting in and she didn’t even want to speak about it , she saw the disassociating signs, “ Hungry?” She watched the tears stain your stonewashed jeans , you wiped your face and sat up , like you’d wiped all emotions away or at least trying to mask them .
“Yeah … mmm let’s get some chipotle “ you smiled at her and she didn’t question it , hand planting on your thigh she rubbed it with comfort and assurance that she was here for and with you.
The silence in the car was heavy , she knows you want to talk and tell her how hurt you are and you do.
“It’s only been a month Sash” you pout , hands fidgeting with the gold chain on your purse, she looks at you eyebrows saddened like she wished to understand how you feel .
“Have you guys even talked ?”
“Not since that night , the look he gave me I can never get it out , I was just stuck I love my brother but Ony … I love him too “ you finally let those tears go , since the incident you always felt crying was useless draining but just once is it ok to feel your emotions.
“My brother won’t even talk to me. I’m suffering from something I can’t control, Sash.” She leans in, resting her face against your shoulder, and just listens—before even thinking about telling you what you should do.
“Thalia , go talk to your brother let him know how you feel , tell him if he cant understand how you feel about ony that you’re grown woman and it’s your life and you’ll learn as you go but don’t let him control you “ you nodded only thinking as far as how he would retaliate, Ony always told you how much you carry problems that aren’t yours .
“Clean your face.” She hands you a tissue from her console, and you wipe your eyes. They’re puffy, your face flushed, but she doesn’t judge—she just hugs you one last time.
“Where you wanna go ?” Her advice replaying in your head .
“Can you take me home?” Your car was still at her place, but you assured her you’ll be back. You needed to corner your brother, make him face himself—and there was only one person who could finally make him stop his bullshit.
Mami🤱🏽
| I need to talk ma.
| are you gonna come see me ? 🥰
| yes ma’am I’m on my way over now .
She was the only one who could tell Constance to leave you out of it—maybe even get them to meet in the middle. But honestly, after what you’d just seen, it didn’t feel worth the trouble. Still… if it meant getting your brother back, even a little, you’d do it.
_______
He watches you leave, his heart pounds almost like it’s visual to the world.
He watches this time.
The girl next to him is still talking—something about a party, or a dress, or nothing that matters—but her voice fades into background noise of the people in the store .
His arm slips from around her waist without him even realizing, he doesn’t even want this , or her . He’s masking his feelings going too fast to even think about you.
“Ony are you even listening ?” she scoffs softly, confused, reaching for him again—but he barely reacts.
His eyes stay on you.
On the way you don’t look back for him.
On the way you let Sasha pull you like you might actually fall apart if you stop .
His jaw tightens.
He almost calls your name , and tell you how much he misses it , wants to apologize for not understanding, for being mean that night .
Almost.
It sits right there—on the tip of his tongue, heavy, dangerous, familiar.
But he swallows it.
Forces his expression flat. Detached.
Like it doesn’t bother him, like it doesn’t eat him alive not speaking to you .
Like you don’t still love —“…you good?” the girl asks, studying him now.
He nods once, quick. Too quick.
“Yeah,” he mutters.
But his gaze drifts back to where you disappeared.
And this time—it doesn’t leave.
I dont post sketch book pages often but figured id share some of my favs i’ve done recently
(Fruity heisenberg doodle on a gartic phone)
Nyx's family
The goddess of night, her husband and all of her children (at least all the ones I could be bothered to draw) In order from left to right, Erebos, Nyx, Aether, Hemera, Thanatos, Hypnos, Philotes, Momus, Apate, Eris, Oizys, Nemesis, Moros, Geras, the Hesperidies, the Keres and the Fates.
Tag me in all the Nemesis fics when they start dropping pls and thangya
i have went through all the 7 stages of grief. and i have accepted that this was the new design
i can recover
im gonna play popn music to feel better.
dont talk to me rn.
I'm making an army