Cabin 12 - Blog Posts

Dez thing. There will be more parts since Tumblr has limits to the amount of photos each post.

Destiny and Dexter are half Greek, part British. They're mother is a child of Thanatos, so they have a little bit more Greek 'blood' in them. Okay, DNA. They definitely have slight gold flecked in their blood.

Redesigns of a few characters, and a few characters I am now showing. Technically, Roxanne is a redesign because I changed what she looks like but I hadn't officially made her on Gacha Life 2(till now) since I had gotten my new phone. She used to have brown hair and brown eyes. Now she has red hair and brown eyes.

And not any less of an asshole than before.

Anyways.

Destiny 'Dez' Fischer(daughter of Dionysus, twin sister of Dexter)- the one with the strip of red hair and holding a sword.

Dexter Fischer(son of Dionysus, twin brother to Dez)- the one with black and purple hair.

Dante Fischer(son of Zeus, half-brother to Dez and Dexter)- red hair and blue eyes.

Young Roxanne(3yrs)- red hair and brown eyes, before she got her wings cut off by her parents.

Roxanne Fischer(adult)- red hair and brown eyes, looks not happy.

Does Dez look too much like a boy?

This is probably very random and out of the blue, but here's my designs for Pollux and Castor in Gacha Life 2!

+ my Dionysus kids designs

The one with black hair and blue streaks is Dez, she's a female.

The one with black hair and purple streaks is Dexter, he's male.

Dexter and Dez are twins.

The one with glasses is Pollux. The other is Castor.

When I first designed Castor and Pollux(in Gacha Club), several years back, I had no idea what they really looked like so I went off of what Dionysus looked like(before the mention of having violet eyes), I gave them black hair and blue eyes. 😭

Also, I just realized I messed up the tail designs on Dez and Dexter. The tail is supposed to be black with the tip purple.

Do ya'll have any headcanons about Dionysus cabin? Feel free to share! I'd love to hear what ya'll like about them!

Children of Dionysus have sharp teeth. Either Alastor or Charlie type teeth. Dez and her twin brother have these and black wings. Their mother, Roxanne, is a child of Thanatos. Since he's a minor god, monsters are less attracted to her, so she never knew, but the black wings were in her genes. Roxanne did not have them, though.

They also have horns, pointy ears, and grapevines that randomly grown in their hair and around their body when they feel an extreme emotion they can't handle very well. Yeah, they're good actors, but it's chaos when they get extremely happy or mad. Or express any emotion that deeply affects them. And maybe strawberry vines. They pull a Charlie Morningstar when they're mad; horns grow, eyes light up in anger, wings grow in size. They hide most of their traits if possible. They can hide their wings, but it takes up too much energy to do that. The only times they need to is when they're leaving camp, the likely chance they'll need their powers. Hiding their wings doesn't take up too much energy, but if they use their powers while hiding wings, it drains twice as fast. They don't hide em' at camp. They don't leave camp much, so they don't worry about it too bad. Until they have to leave. They choose not to hide them, and cover em' up with a jacket or something and hope no mortal notices. They are definitely obsessed with Maximum Ride and hawks.

Their cabin marvel person is Wolverine. They claim Deadpool, but Apollo cabin and the rest of the cabins agreed that Deadpool is off limits but, much like their father, they're not a stickler for rules and off-limits things. Like certain nymphs... and Deadpool.

my camp half blood oc ^_^

YALL SHES ADORABLE

her name is odette van schmidt and she’s a child of dionysus 😇

her story is actually rlly funny tbh. makes me crack up a bit. so here it is

basically dionysus met her mum (a rich socialite) at a party she was throwing for the opening of an art gallery, and it was getting late so everyone was going home. odettes mum looked over at dionysus and was like ‘omfg these old geezers r soooo boring. wanna hit the club?’ and dionysus was like ‘have my baby’ SO SHE DID.

9 months later she gave birth to odette van schmidt: the lying, unstable (possible future addict), drama queen JOY of dionysus.

by the time odette turned 14, her mum was like ‘right. this girl needs to get her ass to boarding school’ bc she could not stop CAUSING A RUCKUS. she was a menace during important parties and events- not because she wasn’t good at parties; but because they weren’t fun. while her mum agreed with her, she had grown out of her party girl phase and had to settle down.

well, odette didn’t fight her mums decision to send her to boarding school. after all, that’s where the craziest shit happens, doesn’t it? especially in new york.

so imagine this: odette van schmidt, the pretty girl with weird eyes and designer clothes CHOWING DOWN ON SPECIAL BROWNIES WITH HER ROOMMATE WHO LOOKS LIKE HOMELESS MAN IN A PRETTY GIRLS BODY.

odette could NOT stop getting into trouble. always sneaking off with her friends, partying her weekends away. by the age of 15 she had developed a pretty bad habit of taking a shot of vodka every sunday morning to get through the preachy ass mandatory services.

odettes mum had enough when she found out her daughter wasn’t taking her meds everyday at 8:00, and was instead lighting up at 4:20.

odettes mum had to call her baby daddy and tell him to pick her up for the summer. odette heard this call, and jumped to the conclusion she was getting sent to REHAB. so she ran.

she ran fast and fast and fast and fast. all the way from manhattan to queens.

ofc odette always saw weird shit. but she just always chalked it up to sleep deprivation, adhd, maladaptive daydreaming, and later in her teens: drug induced hallucinations.

after walking around new york aimlessly for 3 hours to escape rehab, her mum gave her a call.

“hey odette… can you come back home? bc ur lowkey a demigod and I WONT SEND YOU TO REHAB BABY IM SORRY I WONT ITS FINE YOU WERE ONLY SMOKING WEED ITS OKAY BABY-”

BOOM. hellhound right in the middle of the dingiest 7/11 in all of queens.

odette booked it- already terrified by what her mum said, and even more so by this terrifying dog thing.

she ran down at alleyway, hoping to escape the gross mangy dog, but she wasn’t fast or sharp enough to lose it or outsmart it. the hellhound attacked her from behind, ripping through the back of her shirt and leaving a scar that ran across the length of her back.

like that shit was BIG. like, from her neck down to her hipbone.

odette was vengeful thoguh. she was more angry than she was in pain, so she took out her pocketknife and started stabbing and punching that thing away. LIKE. HOW WOULD THAT EVEN PROTECT HER FROM A HELLHOUND??? but then the mutt started chasing its tail and howling like crazy, making it easier to put it down like an old dog.

and poof.

into thin air.

“alright what the fuck”

so there she lay- sitting and panting and wheezing in an alleyway, bleeding out. so she decided to pray,

“god i’m sorry for drinking on sundays! i’m sorry for using bible pages to roll! i’ll do anything to make it up to you!”

“girl, it’s fine.”

all of a sudden, there was this middle aged guy in front of her with the same eyes as her and the worst fashion sense she’d ever seen.

“i didn’t know jesus shopped at h&m…”

“jeez, you sound like ur mother.”

after 10 awkward seconds of silence, odette passed the fuck out. bc her back is a war zone. obviously.

when she woke up the next day, she was at the most rank hospital she’d ever been to. but all the doctors were cute. they were all blonde and spoke like poets and had such gentle hands. but they were wearing the most atrocious orange shirts.

good thing I’VE got STY-

odette looked down at herself. “are you fucking kidding me.”

orange was not her colour. it was purple.

after she got all healed up, two blonde 13 year olds who looked just like her arrived at the infirmary. “hiiiiii welcome to rehabbbbbbb”

“oh my god i’m actually going to kill myself”

castor and pollux eventually cleared up mostly everything about camp (after fucking around with their new older sister a bit more, of course), and proceeded to take her to get some food in her tall ass stomach.

she ate. and then she ate a bit more. and then she complained. and then she asked if her mum has her ‘crazy meds’. and then she asked for new clothes. and then she called her mummy and asked her for new clothes or perfume or anything. and then she walked over to the big house to complain about something again.

and as soon as she walked through the doors, screaming about how she can’t party with a torn up back- she was claimed.

“oh my gods odette. we have your stuff. its fine. it’s cool. you’re my daughter btw. and no drinking at camp.”

“… why would my mum fuck a guy who shops at h&m?”

“I DO NOT SHOP AT H&M, I AM A GOD-“

odette blanked. she wasnt really good at faces. much better with names. that’s what u get for being a history buff who can’t make eye contact i guess.

“… which one, sorry?”

“… dionysus?”

“oh. that checks out.”

Blood, the Blood of Grapes

Fandom: Percy Jackson Rating: Teen Characters: Pollux; Caz (Castor); OC daughter of Dionysus; Lee Fletcher; Will Solace

Summary: The maenads, the raving-ones, the noise-makers. They had always loved the Children of Dionysus. Sometimes his children loved them back. (The youngest member of Cabin 12 is called like a fey to the revels in the wood)

CW: minor threat of cannibalism; blood imagery

A/N: Agatha is 11 here. Caz and Pollux are Scottish

Theo had been at camp three months before she dared to ask about the music. 

It was faint at first, lone notes snatched on the winds gone the moment she stood still to listen. 

She went to bed with it in her ears, rose with it on her tongue. It papered her skin with gooseflesh.

Then came cymbals. In the rustle of leaves, the salt-brine waves, the knives and forks at dinner. 

At night she heard laughter. The other cabins perhaps. But when she pressed her nose against the cold glass of her window it was only dark. The stars above swilled wine-drunk and gold. 

It grew louder. Like feet under the hills, like the thud of swords against leather, like the thump-beat-thump of her own heart.  

She rose early, one morning, mouth metallic, jaw aching for the taste of strawberries and found the satyr cross-hoofed cradling Pan’s reeds to his lips. He winked, a wild eye, and she swallowed his tune down her gullet.  

After that it never left her; sweet and strange, it poured through camp thick like syrup. She found it on her plate curled round her cup, felt it in the soil and the worm-dark dirt, heard it in the amphitheatre in the argument of voices, saw it in the long twigged hands of the tree-people as they waved to her, the pipes the cymbals the drums. 

The question fell like baby teeth as she climbed into bed. 

Pollux grinned lopsidedly as he tucked Bunny into her blankets. ‘What music?’ 

‘The pipes. The drums.’ She shook her head, ‘They chant, why do they always chant?’ 

The twins exchanged a look, one of their silent conversations she cannot read. 

‘Faun-song,’ said Caz softly, ‘Da’s followers. Don’t worry’ 

They double checked the latches on the windows that night, tested the lock on the door.

She didn’t tell them that she wasn’t afraid. 

The chanting swelled louder, the pipes never stopped. It was not enough. The pipes were not enough, the drums were not enough. The cymbals of the sea and the bearded bleats of goats were not enough. She started humming it, needed to feel it inside her, in her mouth, in the glut of her stomach, greedy, greedy, she hummed. 

It was not enough. Her fingers hurt, her chest hurt, her ears hurt. Like it was a noise that could not be contained, condemned, to be still. She wanted to dance. Wanted to stomp her feet like the music halls of her childhood when she was young enough to twirl her skirts and spin. 

At the firepit she grew restless. The flames were high, Phoebus’ children bright, summer was coming and everyone crowed and still it was not enough. Sedate. Quiet. 

She wanted to dance. Wanted to move, wanted to tear her hair and shout MORE MORE MORE. 

May’s nights were long and warm. She dreamt of bull horns and absinthe and grinning green masks. She woke with the smell of fennel. 

It surprised her, in the end, how long it took her to go to the Forest. But Caz and Pollux had said it was out-of-bounds, told of monsters. She had promised never to go in. 

But that was before the music. 

Theo was supposed to be doing chores. A Saturday, no classes. Just polishing her leather breast-plate before Greek with Caz. She was not even supposed to be there but she’d tried for a half-remembered shortcut, misremembered, twice-remembered. She did not remember. Because here at the greenwood edge, the music came. 

Her head tilted, as if she might see into the leafgloom better. Her armour trailed on the ground. There was laughter, spilling like a drink, frothed and loud and merry. It reminded her of the after-show parties back home. Sequined girls still in their costumes, men handsome and moustached. 

It took her a while to see the woman. Greenskinned and tall, taller than Pollux even. Ivy trailed from her hair, her wrists, her dress was fawn skin. 

‘My child.’ Her voice is the best of honey. It stuck Theo’s tongue to her mouth. She swallowed, drily. 

‘The music...’

‘Ah.’ The lady smiled, a heady thing, ‘You like to dance?’ 

Theo nodded. 

She held out her hands, a coy tilt of the chin. ‘Come. Join us.’

‘I - I can’t.’  Theo had made a promise to the twins. The forest was dangerous. (But the music, how could it be with the music?) The pipes the cymbals the drums were loud.

She had taken a step before she realised it. 

‘Come,’ the lady lulled, ‘come ye child. Taste and see. We will not harm you.’ Her voice was the voice of many. The voice of pipes.

Theo took her hand. They ran. 

A whoop. A holler. A cheer. The woods raised up, loud and braying, the sound of a crowd. 

‘Evohé. Evohé’

It was a prayer, a hymn. The clap of hands, the stomp of feet. A hundred figures ran, a hundred figures writhed. Tree-men and women of holly and fir, satyrs with rolling eyes and naked legs, red berry creatures with horns and tails, leopard folk and boys with the heads of panthers that lapped the milk from the wet dew grass. 

The trees poured wine, the flowers dripped with honey. The air smelled of tanned hide and incense, sounded of cymbals and drums and flutes.

They kicked their heels, they keened their throats. And when they saw her, when a hundred eyes looked and saw, they cheered. 

A garland was summoned, ivy and vine leaves, wound in a crown, pressed to her head. her hands were taken, pulled into the crowd, she span, she twirled. She danced like she had not danced for years, back when her mother was alive, when the brass bands played what she asked, when life was smoke and powder and brandy.

‘Sister.’ They cried. ‘Priestess.’ 

Theo’s grin was wicked. ‘We dance.’ She said. She compelled. And they did.

The pipes the cymbals the drums the feet the cheer of a crowd that loved her. They laid flowers at her feet, tossed ivy to the ground, and when she threw back her head and howled they howled with her. 

She wanted more. Needed more.

‘Evohé,’ they cried, ‘daughter of Ours, where do we go?’ 

To the mountains, the mountains. Called the chorus. To the woods. 

Theo pointed, there was a staff in her hand, pinecone tipped and sharp. Onwards, deeper, deeper. They followed, the crowd of frenzy, the men and women who raved.

Their song was the rage of animals, the tears of sap, the blood of grapes.

Blessed are the dancers of the dance of god

A goblet was pushed to her lips, blazed gold and gleaming, and she drank deep and long. Rubbed a hand from her mouth, speared liquid across her cheeks. They cheered. Theo flushed, hot and thirsty and threw the cup to the ground. Where it struck, the earth bled wine.

‘Sister. Daughter of the god of joy.’ 

Daughter of the god of noise

She howled, they howled, the woods howled. They were hers now. Tree and stone and root. 

That was why she noticed the fault. The crack, the break, the wrong-quiet note in the good-loud noise.

A spy upon god’s possessed

‘Stranger! Spy! Watcher in the Woods!’

For doom for deed. Smite til the throat shall bleed

‘Feast’ Someone called. ‘Beast. Lion. Spy.’  

Their lips foamed, their eyes leapt like fire. Their hands tore at roots, at flesh.

‘Bring them. Find them. Rip them. Lionspy.’

Theo’s head spun, her stomach ached.

‘Eat it drink it suck the marrow dry. Yes. Yes. Feast until they die.’ A shout. A whoop. A holler.

A Scream.

Part two --

(Part of a larger story universe)

I was talking to my friends the other day bc I was having a multi-shipper crisis

and when I mentioned that Castor x Lee needed a ship name

they said that Cast- like an arm cast y'k? is a nice ship name and I thought I needed to share this w/ you

oooh that is quite nice actually thank you for sharing!

I actually had a lil thought about ship names for them the other day and had a minor crisis because-

LEE

CASTOR

LESTOR

^LESTER^

APOLLO

so yeah, that was a fun realisation

but cast is really cute! might start using that in the future <333

Children of 🍷Dionysus/Bacchus🍷