anonymous series

anonymous asked:

What's your take on the world ending for the Greek Gods? Or when they cease to be relevant to mankind, and what happens to them? Would Athena, Aphrodite and Artemis take the streets and march for Pride? Would Demeter be the manager at a zoo?

Time passes. The world changes. Temples fall. People now speak their names as if they are fairytales.

The gods are dead.

~

Apollo’s chariot lies broken and forgotten in the ruins of a city no one knows the name of anymore. He watches the sun crawl across the sky of its own volition, without him to push it forward.

“Do you miss it?” Artemis asks him, appearing by his side.  They stand at the top of a sparkling glass building, almost the same as ever. She walks among the mortals more than he does, she always has, and She’s dressed like one of them. Tight clothes and half her head shaved, sparkling gems curling up the delicate shell of her ear. She looks like one of the teenagers that fill his concert stadiums.

He thinks of the way his chariot threatened to escape his grasp every morning, the oppressive heat of the sun beating down on him, the burns and the undercurrent of fear that one day he would lose his grip on the reins and plunge the world into darkness.

Apollo leans his head on his sister’s shoulder. The sun rises slower without him, but it rises just the same. “No. Not really.”

~

Hephaestus’s workshop has evolved with the times – from a volcano base to a modern lab, but always a workshop bursting with creation. The cyclopes are still his best assistants.

Aphrodite steps over discarded parts and expertly walks around frantic cyclopes carrying bubbling concoctions. Her dark hair is swept up in a bun and she wears chunky glasses and a blood red pantsuit that almost hides the fact she’s the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. “I have a client, try not to blow up the house. Again.”

“Yes dear,” he says, but doesn’t looks away from his soldering. She hadn’t expected him too. His prosthetics are off and on the floor besides him, and he’s seated on a too-tall chair to compensate for the loss of height.

She reaches out and carefully touches the corner of his eye. Crow’s feet have started to work their way onto his face. They’re getting old. “It’s the couple that’s fighting because he wants kids and she doesn’t want to carry any kids but doesn’t want to say that. It would probably be easier if I just told them to adopt and threw them out the window.”

“Yes dear,” he repeats, sparks flying. A few land on her, but she doesn’t burn. Of course.

She moves her hand up and pushes it through his hair and resists the urge to pull him from his work and abandon her own so they can make out on his worktable. “I love you.”

Aphrodite turns to leave, but Hephaestus grabs her wrist and pulls her back. He holds up a single copper lily, the edges of the petals still glowing with heat it had taken to shape them. He carefully slides the stem into her hair so it sits at the base of her bun. He grazes her bottom lip with his thumb as he pulls his hand back to his side. “Yes dear.”

~

Demeter rages.

She makes imprudent deals to control an earth that no longer falls under her domain, and she enacts her revenge against the mortals in whatever way she can. They have forgotten her, forgotten the earth, and in their ignorance they seek to destroy it.

She shakes the bedrock and splits it open, but still they do not learn, and as the temperature of the earth rises so does her temper.

The sea is not hers to command, her power is of earth and of earth alone, and even now she gave more than could afford to lose to keep her grasp on it. But these mortals do not learn.

Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to the crumbling remains of Olympus and makes an even worse one.

Typhoons and hurricanes whip across the land. If they seek to destroy her, she will simply destroy them first.

~

Hera sits on a pure white couch in an elegant mansion, smiling for the journalist seated across from her.

“What do you think is the most influential decision you ever made?” he asks, “If you could pinpoint the success of your business to one moment, what would it be?”

She tilts her head as the light of the camera flashes. “Why, divorcing my husband, of course.”

“Would that be your advice to young women hoping to be as successful as you?” he asks, “To not get married?”

Hera thinks of thousands of years by Zeus’s side, and how little it got her. She thinks of Hestia’s men, and Artemis’s women, of Hephaestus’s love for Aphrodite, of the way Hades softened the sharpest of Persephone’s edges.

She says, “Do not get married to someone who makes you less than you are. If you are not a better person for being together than apart, then do not be together. It’s as simple as that.”

Simple, but not easy.

Leaving Zeus was the hardest thing she’s ever done.

~

Persephone isn’t forced to spend half the year on the mortal earth anymore. She goes when she pleases, which isn’t often.

Sometimes she’ll sit by Artemis’s side while she brings a new life into the world and holds the warm, wriggly child first. She visits hospitals and makes the flowers bloom out of season, and spends long hours sitting under the sun and feeling it’s warmth touch her face.

Hades left his realm rarely before, and even more rarely now. More people are being born than ever, meaning more people are dying than ever. Their realm is massive, comprising of all the dead of several millennia. Hades and Hecate spend their days as always – desperately trying to expand the realm so that they don’t all have to live on top of each other.

“Have you heard?” she asks one day, seated on his desk and leaning across it so he can’t work on the latest draft for another level of their realm. “The gods are dead.”

He gives up on attempting to tug it out from underneath her. “Are they? That’s odd, none of them are here.”

Persephone doesn’t bother to hide her smile. They haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe they never will. But when death comes for them, as death does for all, it will be to Hades and Persephone’s door they are brought. Hades himself will usher Gaia and Amphitrite into the underworld, when the time comes.

That time is not today.

“Darling, I really do need to work on this,” he ineffectually tugs on the map again.

She pushes him back into the chair, climbing on top of him and pressing their foreheads together. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” he agrees, and obligingly moves his head so Persephone can nibble at his neck. He manages a whole thirty seconds before going, “I mean, I really do, Hecate said if I didn’t have a plan by the time she leaves for the mortal realm tomorrow, I’ll either have to wait until she gets back or do it by myself, and I’d really prefer to do neither–”

Persephone kisses him to shut him up, twisting and pushing them through the realm so they land on their bed. “I’ll help you finish it later. Focus on me now.”

Hades doesn’t answer, but he does flip them so he’s above her and reaches below her skirt, so she’ll take that as agreement.

~

Hestia sits around a bonfire, watching a group of teenagers get drunk and dance around the flames. They’ll never be younger than right now, never feel as much love for each other as they do right now.

She is besides an old man who warms his hands from the fire coming from an abandoned trash can.

She lies on a bed as a girl lights two dozen candles around it as a surprise for when her lover gets home.

She watches a young man make dinner for his boyfriend for the first time and burn the chicken on both sides. They eat it together anyway.

She sits on the kitchen counter when a sister takes out a pie from the oven, made special for her little brother’s birthday.

She is there when a father ticks the thermostat up high in freezing dawn of morning so it will be warm by the time his wife and children awaken.

Most people don’t have hearths anymore. But there is warmth, and love, and for Hestia that is enough.

~

As their names fade from existence, as his name is called less and less on the battlefields of mortal men, the more Ares sleeps.

He falls asleep in too tall trees and on park benches. He sleeps in seedy motel rooms and naps in every one of Athena’s libraries. He sleeps curled up on a chair in Aphrodite’s office, and on the floors of a lot of veteran resource centers. As fast as he can tell, that’s the most they help any veteran.

Still, his favorite place to sleep is the underworld.

He goes knocking on Orpheus’s door, who is always willing to play for him. “Hades is here,” Eurydice says, “Would you like to me to go get him?”

He shakes his head, “Persephone is home. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eurydice and Orpheus share the same look of faint disapproval, but neither of the say anything, for which he is grateful.

He lies in the soft grass of the garden Persephone made, and lets Orpheus’s playing lull him to sleep.

Later, he’s woken by strong arms picking him up and holding him against a familiar chest. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know who’s holding him. “I can go,” he yawns, his actions at odds with his words as he pulls himself even closer the warmth coming off the king of the underworld.

“No,” Hades says. “Stay.”

Ares lets out a content sigh as Hades presses his lips to his forehead, and he’s not great about touch, about people laying their hands on him and getting in his space. But Hades has always felt safe, felt like home.

He stays.

~

The gods are dead.

Long live the gods.


gods and monster series, part xiv

read more of the gods and monsters series here

8

High School Yearbook ➔ Best Couple: Spock & Jim Kirk

anonymous asked:

getting kind of tired of the lack of updates, w out an explanation, we at least deserve that

I think I’ll have to put this in the FAQ at some point because I get asked this a lot even though I’ve answered it before, which is OK. I don’t expect people to search the blog for old asks all the time to find information. It might just be easier to put it in the FAQ.

I had surgery in late April for a kidney tumor. It was successful but the recovery has slowed my updating significantly since then. I used to have no job and all the time in the world to work on SaM before that, updating maybe even 3 times a month. That is not doable anymore. Since surgery, I’ve had health problems as well. I’ve been to the Emergency room 5 times since April, all on separate occasions, once even on my family’s first time ever going to Hawaii. I was stuck at the condo.

In addition to health problems, I also have full time employment now. Meaning, I can only work on “Satan and Me” and my other comic “Here it Comes” on the weekends. Updates will be significantly slower because of that, also because I still want to have a life outside of just drawing on the computer all week. I don’t spend my entire weekends drawing updates. Sometimes I go shopping or see my friends or have a meal with my family. 

My full time work is also a drawing job, which I’m happy to have because I went to art school to work in art, so I like that I finally can do that after attending school for 3 years. This is extra taxing on my wrist, which has been in very bad shape even when I started SaM 3 years ago. So sometimes I just don’t want to draw because my wrist needs a day off. I am unable to draw 7 days a week every week. I still try to do that, though, because I feel bad about how much updates have slowed down since my surgery in April, so I still push myself and end up doing just that.

These past two weeks I have some friends in town for the first time on vacation as well. So for these two weeks I haven’t been working on SaM, choosing to spend time with these friends while they’re here instead. It’s my first vacation since I started employment in April, and since my medical recovery. I even had to work during my family’s vacation in Hawaii, so that never felt like a vacation to me when I was stuck 4 days at the condo sick, on meds, and drawing all day while everyone else got to sight see.

I’m sorry that updates are slower. “Satan and Me” will realistically probably get an update every month or every other month if I’m honest. I can’t help that at this point. I try to make the updates prettier and with more panels to make up for that. Before, updates would be 7-10 panels long. I’ve been trying to shoot for the 20s range for you guys, or at least upper teens, since Natalie came back. 

I’d love to draw more, believe me I would, but with fulltime work now that’s just not doable. I’m sorry, but I need to pay my bills.

anonymous asked:

Wanna say I love how izuku wears his sick kicks all the time

They’re so sick they received a vote in the popularity poll Truly iconic. Every hero needs a pair of badass shoes.

Look at them!

They’re so sick!!

Just look how cool his shoes are man!!

AND THEN

FUCKING UPGRADED HOLY SHIT!! 

I REALLY LOVE HIS SHOES. THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH EVERYTHING HE’S BEEN THROUGH. 

anonymous asked:

i know you're probably getting a lot of requests, but do you think you would be able to write about the weirdest greek myth ever, the birth of the Minotaur?

There are times when Hermes’s role as the messenger god weighs on him. Declaration of war have left his lips, the words he’s carried have ended whole countries and damned villages to a slow painful death. The secrets he carries tears at him, the horrors he’s had to face only so he could later tell of them, the warnings he repeats that are ignored and all he’s witnessed is for nothing, since it happens all over again in front of him.

There are times the news he brings that tears at him, eats at his soul like necrosis – the death of Kore, Poseidon destroying another seaside village, every whisper of Pandora, informing Ares of yet another war.

This –

– isn’t one of those times.

~

Aphrodite’s lovely face is slack with surprise. At her side Hephaestus rubs his chin and says, “That seems physically improbable.”

“How did she manage to not die?” Aphrodite demands, then says, “Wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

Hermes grins, and doesn’t bother to hide the complete delight he’s taking in this, “But my lady,  it is my sacred duty to tell you these things. When Queen Pasiphae ensnared Daedalus’s help to be mounted by the bull–”

She gives him a cross look and is gone in a powerful gust of wind, and he has to grab onto the volcano wall to keep from falling over.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Hephaestus says, off hand. It’s clear he’s still thinking of the mechanics of a human-bull hybrid.

“I’ve been accused of being many things,” Hermes says cheerfully, “nice is not among them.”

~

Artemis lounges in her tent with one of her huntress’s face between her thighs, inexperienced but eager, and she so does love taking on new women.

“Sister!” Apollo shouts, appearing at her side and glaring down at her. “Have you lost your mind?”

Her huntress startles and freezes, unsure whether to leave or continue. Artemis rolls her hips up, and the girl ignores the appearance of the sun god and continues with her task.

“Not that I know of,” she says, tilting her head up so she can look at her brother without altering her position, “Why do you ask?”

“Poseidon cursed a mortal queen to fall in love with a bull, and she gave birth to a bull headed monster today,” he crosses his arms and glares.

She swallows the laugh that bubbles up, but she must not be entirely successful because he starts tapping his foot. “Well, isn’t that interesting. I’m not sure what it has to do with me.”

“Sister dear, Artemis, patron goddess of childbirth,” he says with syrup thick sweetness, “why on earth did you bless that child? There’s no way it could have been born without your help. It had to have been you.”

Her huntress pauses again, and Artemis will answer her questions later. She squeezes her thighs about her ears, and the girl resumes. “Oh come on, don’t give me that look. This is hysterical. People are going to be talking about this for years.”

He considers this for a long moment, then uncrosses his arms, “Okay, you have a point.”

“I know. Now if you don’t mind, I’m a little busy,” she gestures to the huntress between her legs.

Apollo snorts, “Get a few more girls in here, and maybe I’ll consider that busy.”

He slips away, but Artemis’s eyes narrow. That sounds like a challenge.

The girl replaces her mouth with a hand and asks, “Should I gather the other huntresses, lady goddess?”

“I like you,” Artemis says, and the girl laughs, cheeks flushed and lips shiny.

~

Hermes appears in the middle of the garden of Hades’s palace, and blinks twice.

The queen of the underworld is half naked and on top of Amphitrite, and several things fall in place at once. “Is this why you don’t get upset with Hades for his affair with Hecate?”

“There is no affair with Hecate, you’re just an indiscriminate gossip,” Persephone retorts. “And if they were having an affair, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with Amphitrite.”

“Oh,” he says. He feels rather derailed from his original point. “I came here to–”

“If this is about the minotaur, we already heard about it,” she says, “You can go now.”

They’ve already heard about it! “From who?!” This is the best news in centuries, and this person is ruining it.

“Aphrodite,” Amphitrite says, “She’s cross with you.”

Oh, this is war.

~

Ares feels a shiver go down his spine, and looks across the battle field. People are dying around him, but people are always dying around him. He doesn’t see anything particularly horrendous, so he doesn’t know who could have invoked him so powerfully that he felt it.

A young woman who had shared the last piece of sweet bread with him last night gets a spear shoved straight through her chest, and Ares decides he has more important things to worry about.

~

Athena is halfway through a tapestry that is to hang in Hestia’s rooms when Aphrodite appears next to her and says cheerfully, “Guess what Poseidon did?”

Normally Athena would fling anyone who dare to disturb her to the depths of Tartarus, but she’s always willing to talk of Poseidon’s misdeeds. “I’m listening.”

Hermes appears on her other side, glaring. “You trollop.”

“He made a queen fall in love with a bull, and she just had the kid. It’s got a bull head.” Her sister’s smile is positively vicious.

“I’ll make you suffer,” Hermes hisses, and slips away. Aphrodite follows, the sounds of her laughter echoing in the room.

Athena blinks, looking back to her loom, but is unable to concentrate.

Even she hadn’t seen that one coming.

~

Hera doesn’t get involved, she does not have opinions, as a rule if it doesn’t concern her then it doesn’t concern her.

She waits for her husband to leave, and tries not to worry about his mutterings about bulls, the queen-mother Europa, and how Pasiphae had the right idea of it. She steps into the throne room, and the fire burns cheerful and bright in the center of it.

She sits beside it, and no sooner has she done so than Hestia appears at her side. “You’ve heard then?”

“Hermes told me,” she rubs at her temples.

“Aphrodite got to me first,” Hestia says, and the goddess of the hearth seems entirely too cheerful, “I can say, of all the misdeeds Poseidon has wrought, this one is certainly … unique.”

She slumps and buries her face in her hands, “This whole family is mad, and we’re doomed to only become worse.”

Hestia laughs and puts an arm around her shoulder, “Come now, I think Hades is quite reasonable.”

Hera shifts enough only so that she can glare, “Hades chose to rule the dead and married Kore. He’s the maddest of us all.”

Hestia can’t refute that, so she starts finger combing Hera’s long, curly hair. Hera slumps back into her hands, and Hestia’s smile is soft as they sit there in silence, the only noise that of the crackling fire.

~

When Hephaestus returns to the volcano, it’s to his wife sitting in his throne with her arms crossed. “What did you do?” she asks.

“I just gave him a little suggestion, is all,” he says, and scoops Aphrodite into his arms so that he may reclaim his throne. She snuggles into his side, and if she’s trying to convince him that she’s mad at him, she’s doing a terrible job of it. “Daedalus has always been a very devout follower; he deserves a few good ideas.”

“He’s had enough ideas,” she says, because without his help the queen wouldn’t have found a way to consummate her love of the bull, “I don’t think he needs anymore.”

“Maybe,” Hephaestus murmurs, dragging his nose up her temple, “but imagine this – a labyrinth, bigger than any other, than this whole volcano.”

“That’s nice, dear,” Aphrodite says, and then proves to be distracting enough that Hephaestus puts his ideas aside.

At least for a little while.


gods and monsters series, part xii

read more from the gods and monsters series here

anonymous asked:

Hi!! I saw your tags on your BNHA/Baccano! crossover, and I'm so excited to know you love Baccano! as well!! After seeing what you said about Claire (who is probably my favorite from that show as well), I was wondering if you've ever drawn him before! If so, I'd love to see it!!

Never had before!!!! But he’s my fav and there’s always a first time I guess, so here you have him anyway!

anonymous asked:

Can you do a gods and monsters based on Ares? (This series is amazing!! Thank you for writing it!!!

a continuation of this


Ares, the God of War, has a throne on Olympus, has followers and temples and tributes.

Ares, the God of War, has the screams of the dead and damned echoing around in his skull, and has not had a moment’s peace since his father declared his dominion over battle.

~

He tries to ignore them. He can’t stay on Olympus, not anymore where his father’s proud gaze follows him and he can’t help but flinch from it. At first he hides in his mother’s rooms, curling up on her lap and crying like he hasn’t since he was very small. “I can hear them,” he says, tears dripping down his nose and onto her dress, “I can hear them calling for me.”

She combs her fingers through his hair and drops soft kisses onto his forehead. “I’ll kill him. How dare he – how dare he.”

“You will do no such thing,” he says, and turns so he’s looking up at her. He presses his hand to her cheek, and she leans into his touch. Her eyes are alight with fury and grief, and it soothes him just to see them. Her eyes are his eyes, are his brother’s eyes. “You are the goddess of marriage. To kill your husband would be to kill yourself. Would you make me an orphan, Mother?”

There is a war raging within him now, soldiers and generals and widows crying out for him, but for now all he is worried about is preventing a war within his home.

Nothing would tear apart the pantheon so firmly as to pit Zeus against Hera.

She doesn’t say anything, but her grasp on his hand becomes almost painful, so he will take that as agreement.

~

He can only stay away for so long. He must go to whoever invokes him most strongly, to who builds him the biggest altars, to who provides the largest sacrifice. He is not a god who is lucky enough to be able to watch his domain from afar, to simply provide blessings and guidance. The screaming inside of him quiets only when he joins them on the battlefield, only when he is in the thick of it with a sword in his hand is it quiet enough for him to think.

Only when his battle fury turns the tide of a war is he, even just briefly, free from the crushing weight of his followers and his domain.

He does not get to choose which side to support. Whoever worships him more, whatever side invokes his name the strongest is the one who gets his aid.

He shows up sobbing at his mother’s door, whole body vibrating in pain because the soldiers shout his name in a glorious chorus and he should be with them now, but instead he’s here. Hera grabs his upper arms to keep him upright, eyes wide and concerned.

“I don’t want them to win,” he confesses, the words making his lips burn, “the soldiers are simply soldiers, but the generals and lords and kings seek glory for money, for profit, for nothing but selfishness. Their enemies only want to live.”

“I will take care of it,” she swears to him, and he has no idea how she expects to do that. Yet he trusts she’ll find a way, because she always does. He comes to his mother, asking her to help him, and she always has. “Now go, before you are hurt even more.”

He goes.

~

Hera had no influence on the battlefield.

But it is not solely the battlefield where tributes are made.

She is the goddess of marriage and family.

She goes to wives and husbands, to sons and daughters, to sisters and brothers. She whispers in their ears, speaks of devotion and fealty, makes them all wail for their missing family members caught up in a war none of them wanted.

Hera brings their grief and desperation to the fore, until they’re nearly mad with their need to have their family brought home.

They build a temple to Ares, sacrifice gold and food and anything of value they can spare. They cry prayers over hearth fires, and burn messages to the god of war to bring their family members home.

~

The tides change. He’s midway through the battle when the he feels the shift, when he realizes his mother somehow did as she promised and he no longer has to fight for these people, that now he can fight against them.

He doesn’t want to fight at all. But if he must, then at least he can fight for those he believes in.

Ares doesn’t allow himself to fall into bitterness or anger at his father often. But he wishes, not for the first time, that Zeus had named him the god of justice, of peace, of fairness, of loyalty. That Zeus had named him the god of something he believed in, something he could believe in fighting for.

All war does is kill good men and women, all it does is breed resentment and anger in the victors and losers both.

Although. Ares is of the opinions that wars never have any true victors. Just people that lose less than the people they’re fighting.

~

There is a lull. No one is invoking him powerfully enough that he can’t ignore their cries.

He goes to Haephestus’s volcano and slides into a magma pool, the burning heat of the lava the perfect temperature to work out the knots of stress in his back and thighs.

“It’s unnerving to see you in there,” his brother says, and Ares opens his eyes to see Hephaestus looking down at him in concern. “You look tired.”

Permanent purple bruises have formed under his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he saw himself without them. Everything hurts, it always hurts, even when there is peace there are people who covet war and call out to him and it tears at him whenever he leaves a tribute unanswered. He’s exhausted and rode hard, stretched so thin that he’s terrified he’ll snap at any moment.

He looks at Hephaestus’s concern and admits to him something he hasn’t told anyone, something he’s too afraid to say to his mother just in case she decides to smite Zeus for it. “I think that these wars might be killing me.”

His brother’s face goes tight, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s all right. Ares hadn’t expected him to – there really is nothing to say.

He wonders if the screams will still find him in death.

~

“I need a favor,” Hephaestus says the next time Athena comes to visit, wringing his hands, anxious in a way he usually doesn’t let anyone see.

Athena tilts her head to side. “I’m listening.”

~

Ares is resting, the moon high as he lays back in the middle of the battle camp and tries to quiet the cries in his head enough to catch even an hour of sleep.

“War is not just about fighting, about blood and battle.”

His eyes pop open and he looks over to see Athena sitting by his side. He pushes himself up cautiously. “Sorry?”

“You should pay more attention to the generals,” she says, “war isn’t won with blood. It’s won with strategy. With planning, with tactics.”

“I don’t know much about all that,” he admits, “it’s enough of a struggle just to keep up with the soldiers.”

Her face softens, “I know. That’s why I’m here. No one expects to win wars alone, Ares.”

This is how Athena, goddess of knowledge and weaving, becomes a goddess of war. She is a master of strategy, of planning campaigns, of ensuring that a victory on the battlefield remains a victory at home.

Some of his tributes go to her. Some people pray to Athena now instead of him.

He still hears the screaming. He still doesn’t sleep.

But it relieves just enough pressure that it feels like he can breathe again.

~

Ares and Athena are not the only names that get invoked on the battlefield.

Hades’s name has constantly been on their lips. They damn their enemies to a torturous afterlife, to thrice the pain and suffering they receive on the battlefield.

He tries to ignore it. It is not his domain. But the more he hears it, that more it stabs at him. Most of these people are soldiers. Cursing generals is well enough, but most soldiers didn’t choose to be here. He didn’t choose to be here.

Ares has never been to the underworld. It’s the one place his mother never let him venture.

He knows that the smart thing to do would be to go to his brother and ask him to speak to Hecate, the woman who raised him. Or even Hades himself – he doesn’t know how well Hephaestus knows the gods of the underworld. For all that he grew up there, he doesn’t speak of it much.

But if Hades’s wrath is to fall on anyone, Ares would rather it be him.

It’s easy enough to follow the souls of recently departed soldiers to the River Styx. Charon presses a hand to his shoulder and asks, “What business do you have here, God of War?”

“I knew a child who was called Kore,” he answers, and he doesn’t expect this to work, but he hopes it will. “I wish to speak to a woman who calls herself Persephone.”

He can’t see Charon’s face, but the air around him turns thoughtful. “It is summer. The Lady is with her mother.”

Oh.

He’d forgotten about that.

“Then I request an audience with her husband,” he says, and he clasps his hands behind his back so that Charon can’t see them shaking. He can’t turn into a mess here. People are screaming in his mind, but he can’t let it get to him here, not if he wants anyone to take him seriously, not if he wants to help his fellow soldiers instead of hurting them.

“You are not dead, and so I cannot ferry you across the Styx,” Charon says, almost apologetically. “But – hold on.” He turns to the river, “Goddess Styx, could you come here?”

A little girl with skin even darker than Hephaestus’s and eyes and hair of soft grey appears in front of them. “Yes?”

Charon points to him, “He wishes to speak to our lord.”

Styx turns her grey eyes on him, and he can’t help but feel unnerved. She circles him, looking him up and down, seemingly looking into him. “Very well,” she says at last. She moves her arms together, then apart. Two sides of the river flow in opposite directions so that a dry walking path is revealed in the river bed. “Move quickly. The longer I maintain a break in my river, the longer things besides you may be able to sneak across.”

“Thank you,” he gives her a shallow bow, and then goes sprinting across the riverbed. It takes him longer than it should – the river is not overly wide, and it should be quick, but it seems like he runs nearly an hour to reach the other side. He heaves himself onto shore, panting, and as soon as he’s across the river comes crashing together once more, flowing back into the proper direction.

~

He makes it to Hades’s palace, but once again it takes longer than it seems it should. It takes too long, he’s been away from the battle field too long, and it shows. He tries to pull himself together, he’s come too far to fall apart now, but it seems to be a wasted effort. The screaming of people crying his name is so loud he can’t hear anything else, and it paralyzes him, he can’t move, he can’t feel, his muscles are tense enough to snap because he needs to answer the people calling for him, but he can’t there’s no easy way out of the underworld so he’s just stuck here –

Suddenly it all cuts off to a dull roar, and he gasps as he comes back to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to keep from crying. Hands cup his face, and calloused thumbs wipe the tears from his cheeks. “You must be Ares,” a soft voice says, “Charon said you were coming. Are you all right?”

He forces his eyes open, and Hades, King of the Dead, swims into focus. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” his eyebrows dip together. “What are you doing here?”

He grabs Hades’s hands, and pulls them from is his face, but leaves their fingers tangled together. Luckily Hades doesn’t pull away. Ares doesn’t know what would happen if he did. “I – I know that they invoke you to punish their enemies, on the battlefield. They dedicate some of the pyres to you and ask you to burn their enemies in death, for eternity.”

“I hear them,” he says, “I know what they say.”

“Try not to,” he begs, and he can hear the screaming still, he’s shaking and can’t stop and he wanted to appear strong while asking the god of the dead for a favor but he’s barely able to keep standing. “I know they ask of it, I know they erect tributes and we must all answer the call of our names, but they’re not evil. They – some of them are, I mean, but don’t – try not to – please,” he ends on, and it’s just not fair that the soldiers must continue fighting after their death. Most of them hadn’t wanted to fight while they were alive.

Hades still looks confused, and Ares will beg if he has to, he knows it’s hard to go against what worshipers demand but this is important. He’s about to try again when Hades says, “I am the god of the death, lord of the underworld. Ares, I hear their cries but I am not bound by them. I rule the dead. The dead do not rule me.”

He stares. He – he’s never heard of something like that before. He answers the call of war because he must, his mother is bound by the chains of her marriage because she is the goddess of family. Demeter’s power is from the earth and of the earth, and when it suffers she suffers, even Poseidon is not immune to the sea’s temperament. Their powers are all double edged, half blessing and half curse.

“Oh,” he settles on finally. “Kore – I mean, Persephone?” They tell tales of the punishments she inflicts on those that have upset her. He knew her as a child, and he’s less surprised than most by what she became.

“My wife does what pleases her, and nothing else,” Hades answers. Ares doesn’t understand. She is Queen of Life and Death, how can that not pull at her, how does it not twist her into a shape she doesn’t recognize?

“Okay,” he says, and he has to leave, but at least he no longer has to worry so much after fallen soldiers. “I apologize for the intrusion. I should go.”

Hades slides his hands up his arms, and settles at his shoulders, and oh, Ares becomes distracted enough by those hands on him that for a moment it’s almost quiet in his own head. “If you like. You may stay as well. It seems as if you could use some rest.”

He drops his head forward on Hades’s shoulder, and he likes the solidity of him, the undercurrent of strength and power he gives off. He’s never met the man before, this is entirely inappropriate, but when Hades’s hands settle onto his hips he wants nothing more than curl up in his arms and ignore the war for a little while.

Hades feels like peace. He’d forgotten what that felt like. “I can’t stay.”

The god of the dead presses a kiss to the edge of his jaw that ignites something in Ares that has been absent since before he was declared the god of war. He wonders what Hades would do if he kissed him properly, he wonders if he pulled off his blood and war stained clothes if Hades would touch his too-hot skin. “Then I request that you return,” the god of death says.

He shouldn’t. The time he manages to not be on a battlefield should be spent with his mother, or Hephaestus. He shifts enough to press their foreheads together. He looks into Hades’s dark eyes, and says, “I will.”

Ares returns to the midst of war feeling lighter than he has in a long time.


gods and monsters series, part xviii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

anonymous asked:

Of all the Cartoon Network shows, which ones do you think had the most consistent quality?

Let me preface this by saying… obviously nothing against PPG because it’s my favorite show forever and is perfect and lovely, but yeah… S5 + S6… were just not… the best. And the quality definitely dipped when Craig started working on Foster’s and, although it makes sense that they kept the series going ‘cause CN wanted more episodes, it just wasn’t as good after that. Which really sucks!

But I’d say Ed, Edd, ‘n’ Eddy. I haven’t watched the show in years but I remember it being absolutely consistent in quality across the board, and it just kept getting better and better. I seriously don’t think that show ever jumped the shark, even when they switched up the plot from summer vacation to them being in school. And I think it’s mostly ‘cause Danny Antonucci worked on it the whole time and was able to give consistent direction.

anonymous asked:

That assume things about Neil thing gave me LIFE. Could you write the talk Andreil has after it? Please? Your writing is so so so good and you are the sweetest person ever <3

Part 3/?

  • It’s on the roof later and they’re sitting in silence while Andrew waits to see if Neil will explain it on his own and Neil tries to figure out how to explain and waits to see what Andrew will say about it
  • Andrew budges first
  • His tone sounds indifferent as he asks “Didn’t have time to swing, huh?”
  • Neil says “I couldn’t tell you the real story because you still thought my mom was dead before I ran.”
  • Andrew asks “And what is this real story?”
  • Neil tells him “My mom thought relationships would make me distracted and stupid.”
  • Neil can feel Andrew thinking that his mom was right, but Andrew doesn’t say it
  • He just sits there silently and waits for Neil to elaborate
  • Neil adds “We both know I’m incapable of following the rules and staying hidden that easily.”
  • He expects Andrew to agree, but Andrew’s just watching him
  • Neil says “So I kissed a lot of girls and not one of them was worth the beating I got when my mom found out.”
  • Andrew looks annoyed, but Neil is pretty sure it is at his mother and not him
  • Neil says “I learned it wasn’t worthwhile to swing. I barely remember those girls because kissing them never felt like anything to me.”
  • Andrew still doesn’t say anything and Neil can’t tell if Andrew is still annoyed that he didn’t correct his story earlier
  • Neil says “Kissing never felt like anything to me until you. You’re the only one I want to kiss.”
  • Andrew tells him “Shut up.”
  • But then he also asks “Yes or no?” a minute later
  • And Neil is allowed to talk for long enough to say yes before Andrew’s mouth is on his

anonymous asked:

Request: y/n is a rich spoiled girl, at least that's how she looks like, she's everything harry hates. People say that she is very confident and the life of every party. No one knows how she feels inside and she is always looking for attention of men bc her dad is a very busy person.

I’m making this a series ‘cause I just fell in love with the concept. Seriously, I love that trope way too much. I’ll be including another request I received as part II of this. Here’s a preview:

“Diamonds are a girl’s best friends”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Your Caeneus and Poseidon fics made me weep. Will you ever write about when Poseidon gives up the power of the sea and returns to Caeneus?

Part One / Part Two


They’ve all abandoned their duties, the world has changed and they’re not needed like they were needed before.

All but the three of them, the most powerful of gods.

Zeus stubbornly remains on the abandoned Mount Olympus. Even Hera has left him, shaking herself free of her shackles and her crown all at once.

Hades continues as he always has. It’s possible he wouldn’t have noticed anything had changed if it weren’t for Persephone’s new freedom that allows her to spend all months of the year with her husband.

Then there is him.

Poseidon sits on his thrown at the bottom of the sea, restless in a way he can’t remember ever feeling before. Amphitrite sighs from her place besides him, then stands to face him. “Perhaps it is time.”

“What are you talking about?” he snaps, although he knows the answer.

She smiles at him, soft and exasperated and even a little fond after all these years. “You knew it wasn’t forever. We both did.”

He presses a hand to his chest, and – he is of the sea, and he is not supposed to be feel fear. But he does. “I do not remember the man I was before I was King of the Sea.  If – if I return to that person, I do not know what I will be, who I will be.”

Amphitrite holds out her hands. Feeling like a child, Poseidon takes them. “I know exactly who you will be, and what you will do. It’s time, Poseidon.”

He’s never loved her, couldn’t love her. But she’s been his constant companion for almost his entire life, and he cares for her, as much as he is capable of caring for anyone. “What will happen to you?”

“That is none of you concern,” she says, “but I will be what I’ve always been – the sea.”

She uses a single claw and opens her chest, the inside of her a dark green except for a pulsating red heart. He sighs and breaks off a piece of his throne to do the same to his own chest. It’s not like he’ll need it after this.

He takes out the cold, dark lump from inside him and places it safely below her ribcage. Her skin heals over and pales, and the warmth of her eyes snuffs out. She slips the beating heart below his sternum, and his skin heals over just as quickly as hers had.

Poseidon didn’t know how cold he had been until he could feel warmth again, like a bonfire in his chest unfurling to fill him, warming the bottoms of his feet and tips of his fingers. The tidal wave of grief and love and happiness and sorrow nearly threatens to barrel him over, all the emotion he’d only felt echoes of now overwhelming him.

But even with all of that, he instantly knows something is wrong.

“This isn’t my heart,” he says, and it functions like his heart, these are his emotions and feelings, but – it’s not his heart, it’s not the heart he traded away to Amphitrite for power so long ago.

“No,” she agrees, “it’s not.”

She almost looks like she’s smiling.

He means to question her, to demand answers in spite of personally knowing how worthless it is to ask anything of the sea. But before he gets the chance, he’s being pushed away and onto the shore, and he knows better than to try and go back and attempt to get answers she doesn’t feel like giving. He doesn’t think she’d kill him, but he’s not interested in finding out.

He looks out at the impossibly tall structures before him, the glass city sprawling at the end of the beach when before there had only been a – been a – a cottage.

“Caeneus,” he breathes, and is gone in the next moment.

~

He knows the entrances to the underworld well, even as the world moves and changes they never have. It takes him no time at all to be standing by the River Styx with Charon in front of him. “You are not dead,” the boatman says reproachfully.

“No,” he says, “Summon Hades, I must speak to him. There’s someone in there who – someone I – someone,” he finishes, and it’s been thousands and thousands of years since he last has Caeneus in his arms, but it doesn’t matter. The heart in his chest is a heart that is capable of love, and he loves Caeneus just as he did as a fledgling god with dominion over nothing.

Charon has no face that he can see, but he still gets the impression he’s being laughed at. “The underworld contains many someones.”

“Call Hades,” he says, low and dangerous, and the waters of the Styx churn angrily at his temper. He may no longer be the king of the sea, but he is still a god of it, and a powerful one at that. Charon takes a step away from him, no longer laughing but also not moving to help him.

There’s a shift in the air, and a young woman stands before them. Her skin is as dark at the water of the river, and her eyes are the grey of its foam. “Who dares disturb my river?” the goddess Styx demands. He meets her gaze, and her mouth drops open. “Poseidon? What are you doing here?”

“That is not Poseidon,” Charon says, “He doesn’t feel like a king.”

He wants to slap himself. Charon is blind.

Styx raises an eyebrow, “Looks like he finally got with times. The king of the ocean is no more.” She circles him like a predator circles prey. “There’s something different about you.”

“Lady Styx,” he grits out, “Please. Summon my brother, I must speak with him. I’m looking for someone.”

She shakes her head, “I can’t. He and Hecate are expanding the realm today. They can’t be disturbed.”

He doesn’t care about his brother’s obsession with home improvement, but he doesn’t say that. “Persephone then.”

“The Lady is currently among the mortals,” Charon says.

He clenches his hands into fists. He knows it’s been thousands of years, and a little more time won’t make much of a difference. But he’s already lost so much time. He doesn’t want to lose any more.

Styx sighs as if she finds him troublesome. “Thanatos,” she calls out conversationally, “I need you.”

There’s another shift in the air, and a familiar figure appears in front of him. “What do you need?” the death god asks, ink on his hands and smudged across his forehead. “I’m busy.”

“Icarus,” he says. It’s hard to regret the actions he took with Amphitrite’s heart in his chest. He wanted, and so he took. Such is the nature of the sea. However, there many things he did then that he wouldn’t have done if he’d had his heart. Those years with Icarus are among them.

He’s never said no, never pushed him away or lashed out. But if Poseidon had had his heart, he would have known that it wasn’t what the young man wanted.

Icarus’s mouth drops open, but he shuts it again. “Poseidon,” he greets carefully. “Can we help you with something?”

“I’m looking for a mortal. His name is Caeneus, my magic should be clinging to him. He died – a long time ago, I’m assuming. I don’t know exactly when.”

Icarus’s eyes go distant as he reviews a mental list of the dead. He blinks, then slowly shakes his head. “There are many by the name of Caeneus in our realm, but none that are god-touched.”

He says, “That’s impossible. I transformed him myself. The magic would have clung to him, even in death.”

“Yes,” Icarus agrees. “But he is not among our realm, which means he’s not among the dead. This Caeneus of yours is still alive.”

“That’s impossible,” he repeats, but fainter this time. He presses a hand to his sternum, where a heart that isn’t his own beats.

Styx laughs and drapes herself over Charon, who tolerates it. “Poseidon, nothing is impossible.”

~

He goes to Aphrodite next. She’s dressed as a mortal, wearing glasses she doesn’t need and a dress too short for current mortal fashions. She’s curled up on a chair reading, and she slowly lowers her book to look at him. “So the rumors are true,” she says finally. There’s something like sympathy on her face. “They all said you were different once you became the god of the sea. None ever knew the reason was that you lost your heart.”

“Traded it, actually,” he says, “and we didn’t want you to know. That’s not why I’m here.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I need your help,” he taps his chest, “This heart isn’t mine either. I need your help to find the man it belongs to.”

She closes her book and puts it aside, eyes sparking with interest. “Very well, Uncle. I will do my best.”

~

Aphrodite finds him. They arrive at a small house jutting out of the edge of a cliff, the sea wide and churning below. A man stands at the edge, subtly manipulating the waves with the push-pull motions of his hands. “I didn’t know you knew Glaucus,” she says. “What are you doing with his heart?”

Glaucus. A minor sea god who looked after lost fisherman. “His name is Caeneus,” he says, already walking away from her.

“Good luck!” she calls out before returning to her home and her book.

He walks over slowly, not sure what he’s expecting. Anger, certainly. Perhaps a fight. Maybe if he lets Caeneus beat him up, he’ll be more willing to listen to him. “Hey,” he says, when he’s only a few feet away, bracing himself for – something.

Caeneus stills, turning to face him. His eyes widen, and he takes a hesitant step closer. “Poseidon. Is it – is – do you have,” he pauses and reaches out a hand, pressing a hand against Poseidon’s chest. “What’s in here?”

“Your heart,” he croaks, and reaches out a trembling hand and pressing it to Caeneus’s sternum. “Just as my heart is here.”

“You can have it back,” he says, taking another step closer, and the sun reflects off of Caeneus’s eyes so they shine gold. “I was only keeping it safe for you.”

He reaches for his chest, but Poseidon grabs his hand. “Don’t. Without my heart, you’ll die.”

Caeneus smiles, “That’s all right. I’ve been waiting for you to come back for it, and now you’re here.” His smile dims, “Will you kiss me first? Is that all right?”

Poseidon pulls him closer and presses their foreheads together. Caeneus’s arms wrap around his waist, and something inside him settles. “I will not,” he whispers, and Caeneus tenses. “You must keep my heart, because it belongs to you. It always has.” He shifts to kiss his cheek, and he can smell the salt from Caeneus’s tears that are threatening to spill.  “I shouldn’t have traded it to Amphitrite. It wasn’t mine to give away.”

“Then you must keep mine,” he says, and he’s shaking, “because it has belonged to you for just as long.”

Poseidon kisses him then. Caeneus melts against him, and the first true sunburst of happiness blossoms in his chest.

This is the beginning of the rest of their lives.


gods and monsters series part xvi

read more of the gods and monsters series

anonymous asked:

Holy shit I love your analysis' of Jimin and Namjoon!! Would you mind doing one for Jungkook as well? I know a lot of people were confused as to why Namjoon put him in Ravenclaw over Gryffindor/Slytherin.

Hello~

It’s really weird for me that you guys actually care about and value my opinions  on this whole business so thank you so much for giving my ramblings the time of day omg

for those who are wondering about my thoughts on gryffindor!namjoon and slytherin!jimin here’s the links to those:

Namjoon as a Gryffindor || Jimin as a Slytherin


So like, I really. really. really. love the idea of Ravenclaw Jeon. (But listen… I used to be a hardcore Slytherin!Jeon person okay, so I understand your feels on this. I do.) 

 here goes nothing

Ravenclaw Jungkook confused a lot of people. And I really get it because Ravenclaw was so fucking shafted in the books. 

We had so many Gryffindors and Slytherins to relate to, and we had a fair share of badass Hufflepuffs (TONKS) to base our opinions off of. But there were only a few Ravenclaws that were given the time of day in the books, and only one of those was a major character. We had Luna, Trelawney, Lockehart, and Cho. Cho’s amazing character was wasted by JK – she was written with the personality of a dish rag and didn’t really get the spotlight she deserved. Trelawney was presented as a crazy old lady who sometimes ?? served a purpose. Lockehart was an idiot. All we really had was Luna.

But it wasn’t just the characters. Ravenclaw has a really weird reputation. Before I wrote this, I asked a bunch of my casual and hardcore HP fan friends to tell me the characteristics they associated with each house. And I got pretty much what I expected:

  • Gryffindor: Leaders, brave, courageous, brash, strong
  • Slytherin: Cunning, resourceful, calculating, perfectionists
  • Hufflepuff: Loyal, kind, hard-working, determination, cheerful
  • Ravenclaw: Smart…?? they are… smart people?? They do things…….smartly……

Like for real. Whenever I asked people what traits they associated with Ravenclaw, all anyone was ever able to tell me was that Ravenclaws were supposedly smart. And that’s got a lot to do with the fact that when the sorting hat sings off about all the houses, it lists all these great traits for the other houses, but when it comes to Ravenclaw it says this:

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind.

And then the books go on to say that Ravenclaws are,

characterised by their wit, intelligence, and wisdom.

So maybe you’re like me, and I am REALLY guilty of this, but when I first read this in the books I kinda just thought these all meant the same thing. So maybe that’s where we got this idea that all Ravenclaws are good for are being smart.

But it wasn’t until I looked up the actual definition of each word that I realized these were all saying really different things:

Intelligence - the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.
Wit - a natural aptitude for using words and ideas in a quick and inventive way to create humor.
Wisdom - the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise.

^^^^this is just webster dictionary definitions here. The bolded words are the ones I want to focus on.

Skill. See – Ravenclaws are supposedly smart. But this doesn’t always have to mean BOOKSMART, and I think that’s where we had a lot of trouble with Jeon. No one is saying he is dumb or anything, but he’s no Namjoon.

Notable examples of this trait include Lockehart, who was pretty shitty at a lot of things, but had the street smarts enough to pass off his big whole scam for years and years, and was especially gifted in certain charms.

Then there’s Luna, who while shown to be really good at solving riddles, was also portrayed as really physically skilled. In Dumbledore’s Army, while being taught how to conjure a Patronus by Harry, Luna was the first to get it right. She was fourteen at the time, and was such a skilled witch that she was able to perform an incredibly difficult charm - that even adults had trouble with - after like…….mere minutes of teaching.

Does this sound like someone you know?? I’ll give you an example: Observe this VERY determined Hufflepuff not give up on his dreams and finally have all his hard work pay off… only for someone to come in and get it right almost instantly.

Or maybe… “Hey guys, this dance move you made up looks pretty cool – mind if I watch you do it like once and a half and then nail it instantly?”

And if you’re ever in doubt about just how skilled Jungkook is… remember that he turned down seven other agencies to join BigHit. That’s how many people were after him and recognized his talent. (This also ties in to my thoughts on the part about good judgement – Jungkook obviously saw a lot of potential in Namjoon and BigHit in general, so much so that he turned down tons of other companies to be there. He saw something a lot of other people did not… and it ended up being the best decision he ever made.)

But I think another really telling aspect of Jungkook’s Ravenclaw personality is that he isn’t always perfect at everything. He’s not always good at something right away – but that won’t stop him working really hard to get good

In Rookie King he was shown to be at the most pretty average at bowling. He wasn’t terrible, but he was about as good as you and I would be after playing a few rounds with a little luck. Well, Golden Maknae Jungkook could not stand to not be the best at something, so he mentions sometime later (13:10) that he’s hired a coach to teach him how to bowl…. and then just a few months later uploads a video of himself getting a strike like it’s no god damn big deal at all. And he looks pretty proud of himself too.

But all the major Ravenclaws were also shown time and time and time again as being a little…. scatterbrained. Luna, Lockehart, and Trelawney especially, and to an extent even Cho. And Jungkook is no exception. He’s… pretty gullible. And DEFINITELY scatterbrained.

But wit, intelligence, and wisdom are not the only three traits associated with Ravenclaw. There are a lot of other traits you may not really know about, because again – Ravenclaws were woefully under-represented in the series. There’s quite a few others listed for this house:

  • Creative
  • Individuality
  • Eccentric
  • Quirky
  • Jealousy/Envy
  • Competitive

So imma just go down the list because I’m really tired and I can’t made good word things rn

Creative

it’s no secret that Jungkook is a pretty talented artist. He’s a pretty damn good photographer too. (This will always be one of my favorite photos ever of Jimin – and Jungkook took it.) And he’s a talented lyricist as well. He’s an extremely good dancer and has a beautiful voice too – but you guys know this already.

Individuality

Take a look at how he expresses his individuality through his song covers.

Eccentric & Quirky

You guys thought the fact that Lockehart, Trelawney, and even heckin Luna were all in the same house was a coincidence? Ravenclaws are NOTORIOUS for being Extra™ . I’m not kidding! This is literally a personality trait of Ravenclaws that we overlook so often from these weirdos. And Jeon fuckin Jungkook invented the word eccentric:


you’d be here forever if i kept going so… you get the point. eccentric is jungkook’s middle name.

Jealousy/Envy

Jeonlous exists in this god forsaken fandom, and I ain’t gonna link it and open THAT can of worms, but if you’re feeling so inclined and care to enter the seventh circle of hell, feel free to look it up… but tread carefully.

Competitive

When I got the first ask about Ravenclaw Kook I had woken up at 3am and sleepily looked at my emails. I saw the ask and immediately had to jot down my ideas to keep for the next day, and all I managed to write in my sleep stupor was this

and then i promptly fell back asleep.

I was referring to this, and if you don’t feel bad for poor Jin in this situation I don’t know what to tell you. Jungkook is intensely competitive, even over small things like board games. He was so intent on winning that game that he literally assaulted someone five years his senior to sabotage them.

And then this is him trying to win a dance-off… doing the most, as usual.

And also?? He was literally banned from the gym because he was getting too buff. And look at him take out that guy in wrestling… and then demolish poor Jimin, the smallest member of BTS in arm wrestling when he could have… you know… let him win or something……

It’s a pretty well known meme within the fandom that Jungkook is competitive and always trying to outdo the others.



But when it comes down to it, Ravenclaws are still known for being smart, right? We can take all these other traits and apply them to Jeon but what about his brain?

He’s actually kinda smart. He is able to cover a song in perfect English even though he doesn’t speak the language all that well (but well enough to constantly correct others’ English and he’s good enough to tell you he’s really not all that interested in participating in English Time anyways)

And I mean…. he can outsmart the other members pretty well…………..


But I think one of the most important things to note about Jungkook being in Ravenclaw is to look at who sorted him, Namjoon: Namjoon himself gave Jungkook the nickname “Golden Maknae”. He is constantly saying that Jungkook can do anything, or watch this Jungkook can do this, or wow look at him go, or he’s so talented this and that. Is it really any surprise that Namjoon would put Jungkook in to a house known for being highly skilled when he believes no less of the kid?

Jungkook has some pretty Slytherin-like qualities – but tons of canon HP characters and the BTS members themselves have traits that are shared by all four houses. It’s just a matter of where he fits best.

I mean TL;DR, Jeon says it best himself:

gif credit: bwiskook