anyway i hope you like it girls :))

Is There Somewhere: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: Ik this isn’t on the album but can you the do the song is there somewhere? With like the reader being the girl on the side while kol and Davina are dating ? Xxx

So, I know I said my general requests are closed at the moment and that I’m only taking requests for Badlands, but with this I made my only exception because it is a Halsey song (which I happen to adore, and couldn’t resist writing). Also, dear anon, when you refer to girl on the side, I’m assuming that you meant like Kol was having an affair (not that I condone cheating in anyway), so I’m sorry if I got that wrong. Anyway, I hope this is okay for you, enjoy x 

You were dancing in your tube socks in our hotel room
Flashing those eyes like highway signs

There used to be a time in Kol Mikaelson’s life when he knew what he wanted. Whether it be blood, revenge, a woman, he always knew what it was and how to get it. 

Up until now. Up until the point where he was torn between two different women. Those being Davina, his loving girlfriend who had resurrected him for the second time, and Y/N, who was, well, she was something else. 

He visited her when he could, meeting up with her in the same dingy motel room just outside of New Orleans. It was these times that he cherished, times that he spent with her. Just her. 

He’d watch as she’d get so drunk, she’d just about remember her own name. She’d lose all her inhibitions then, and Kol envied how free she must have felt. How she had no ties, nothing to hold her down. It would cause him to smile as she danced to the sound of silence, her eyes lighting up as she looked at him before pulling him up so he could join her. 

Two bodies. Two souls. Together.

Light one up and hand it over, rest your head upon my shoulder
I just wanna feel your lips against my skin

Of course, Y/N knew what Kol was. She’d known from the moment she met him. But she wasn’t the type to shy away from danger, especially when it surrounded a perfect gentleman like him. 

She knew about Davina too, and when their relationship had started, she’d told Kol that she didn’t care; she didn’t mind being the girl on the side. And she didn’t. At least, she thought she didn’t.

His head was against her shoulder as they sat on the balcony; it wasn’t an unusual place to find them, it was just their spot, a place where they could really appreciate each other’s company. He passed her a cigarette, a habit he had scolded at first, but now knew better. 

It gave her time to think about maybe she wasn’t okay with it all. Maybe she wanted more with him. Maybe she wanted what Davina had; his adoring words, his lips on her skin, his entire being. 

She wanted him.

White sheets, bright lights, crooked teeth, and the night life
You told me this is right where it begins

“We could be something, you know?”, she said to him one night. They were lying in bed together, her having been close to passing out from her state of intoxication. It wasn’t the first time she had suggested something like this, nor would it be the last. 

Kol blamed the alcohol, finding it both hard to believe that someone like her could want someone like him, and refusing to acknowledge his own feelings. If he acknowledged them, he’d have to make a choice. 

He’d have to face up to his crimes. He’d become an expert at that throughout his one thousand years. 

But he let her continue, under the impression that she wouldn’t remember in the morning. 

“I’m serious, Kol. This could be the beginning of some epic story. One of those ones they tell on people’s wedding days. And- and it’ll be funny looking back on it because no doubt Klaus will put his own little spin on it and Elijah will scold him and I’ll start blushing and you’ll, you’ll kiss me and, and-”

He kissed her to stop her breaking his heart anymore than she already did.

But your lips hang heavy underneath me
And I promised myself I wouldn’t let you complete me

Whenever Kol kissed her, Y/N felt dizzy. She felt as if, in that moment, they were the only two in the world. There wasn’t the stress of his family, there was no Davina. It was just them. 

The two of them against the world. She refrained from telling him so, knowing that it had been said to him before by a different girl. No, by his girlfriend. 

That wasn’t her. 

The more she reminded herself of that, the more his kisses felt false. She knew they weren’t, she knew he meant them, but that was the way things were. She knew that back home, he returned to a life where she didn’t exist, where Davina was his everything. 

So, she promised herself she wouldn’t fall in love with him.

I’m trying not to let it show, that I don’t want to let this go
Is there somewhere you can meet me?

It was on a separate weekend that Kol realised just how much he depended on Y/N. She’d called, something she only did when there was an emergency, for the idea of being found out was just too complicated even to think about, telling him that she couldn’t make it. 

She needed time to think things through, apparently. 

When he hung up, the Original felt his heart sink and his mind wander. He’d almost pleaded with her, almost begged her to find time to meet him. It was the first time he’d shown any sense of desperation around her, and then he knew that he didn’t want to let her go. 

But he didn’t want to let Davina go either. 

And then, of course, Y/N had shown up in New Orleans.

‘Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings
And you clutched my brain and eased my ailing

She saw him across the room as he walked in the door, holding hands with the brunette she could only assume was Davina. She felt a sense of smug satisfaction as he spotted her, his eyes widening in shock. 

Downing the shot in front of her, she began to march towards him, staggering slightly in her inebriated state. It had been a bold decision, she knew that, but she needed him to know. 

She needed him to know how she really felt. How she’d broken her promise to herself. All because of him. 

When she was inches from him, Davina having been sent to buy drinks for the two, she stumbled forward, grabbing his arms for support. 

“Please, not here”, he whispered to her, his breath caressing her skin. 

His words made everything come into focus.

You’re writing lines about me; romantic poetry
Your girl’s got red in her cheeks, 'cause we’re something she can’t see

Davina came over when she saw her boyfriend talking to this strange drunken woman, curiosity brimming. 

“Who’s this?”

Kol froze, not quite sure what to do. It was a situation he had never imagined, the two meeting. He had to admit that he was scared, knowing that Y/N had the power to ruin everything in a few words. He saw Davina’s eyes flit back and forth between the two of them, not seeing the obvious chemistry that was there. 

“I’m no-one. I thought you’re lovely boyfriend here was someone I knew. Sorry.”

She turned to him. 


With a sigh of relief and pain in his heart, Kol matched Y/N’s own half-smile before she left.

And I try to refrain but you’re stuck in my brain
And all I do is cry and complain because second’s not the same

When she returned home, Y/N collapsed onto her bed, tears staining her cheeks. No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to get Kol Mikaelson out of her head. He was the first thing she thought of when she woke up, the last thing she saw when she fell asleep. 

Even then he was in her dreams, haunting her. 

It was the first time she had really missed him. The first time she had wanted him. The first time she had wanted to claim that he was hers. The rage she’d felt looking at him alongside Davina was unimaginable. 

She hated that a fling, a stupid affair, had turned into this. 

So this was what it was to be heartbroken.

I’m sorry but I fell in love tonight
I didn’t mean to fall in love tonight

Kol couldn’t focus on his date with Davina. All he could think of was Y/N, all he could see was her face when she realised what she was doing, all he could hear was her voice as it broke slightly when she apologised. 

Apologised for what? For being there when she wasn’t supposed to? For almost ruining it all?

For- he couldn’t believe he was letting himself think this, she was just supposed to be a fling after all- for being in love with him?

He didn’t sleep that night. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, watching the image of her swim before his eyes. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. But it had, and he couldn’t change it. 

So he got in his car and drove. 

You’re looking like you fell in love tonight
Could we pretend that we’re in love?

Y/N hadn’t expected a knock at the door. She didn’t get guests, nor was she in the mood for them. But whoever it was, was obviously not giving up. 

Looking out the window, she saw a car she recognised. Kol. She let herself think, only for a moment, that he was here to tell her that he’d ended things with Davina. She knew that that was only a fantasy. 

He was probably there to break things off. For good. 

She looked through the peep hole of her door, aiming to get a glimpse of him before she never saw him again. He had a look about him that suggested that he wasn’t angry. It was a look that screamed urgency, anxiety, nerves. 

It told her that maybe her fantasy wasn’t such a fantasy after all. So, she opened the door, and saw that she was right. And even if she wasn’t, surely it wouldn’t hurt to pretend?


A small half-smile appeared on his face, matching the loving look in his eyes. 



If you do not have a friend like @ayahinas, you’re missing out on a lot of things.

But don’t dare try steal her. 😈 She does worry me a lot on how much she worries, but I guess that’s a part of her personality. She’s an amazing writer and one of the few bloggers around that you’ll enjoy talking to - but she is even an amazing friend to the point that she worries she is clinging too much or doing too little when she just wants to be there for you and make you feel better. She is the only person who approached me first out of all my tumblr mutuals and I can say that has made an impact, also the only person who blocked me twice, lmao.

What can I say about her? She tells me I am her unruly child but she is a more unruly mother whom I always scold because she keeps sleeping like a vampire. We can talk for hours and have a Kenference with some others and it won’t even be boring. She also tries her hardest to improve her writing as well as herself to the point that she sacrifices a lot of time to do so (for her writing, as for the latter, when she does promise you can say she will try). You’re missing out a lot if you’re not her friend, because she is a huge blessing and a wonderful person, a gem I happened to stumble on so I consider myself lucky. Remember that I am here for you and you can be clingy however you want Alice, lol. I love you dear Alice and always remember that I am here for you, no matter what happens (at least I’ll try).

anonymous asked:

Can I ask GoM+Takao+Kasamatsu being overly protective of their girl bestfriend? No romantic feelings, just pure platonic friendship. Thank you, I really like your writing style ^^

Hi dear! Sorry if it took me so long! I’m so happy you like it <3 Anyway, I hope you’ll like it because I was a bit at loss as what to write. I tried to write different settings and situations to not bore you and give a friendly and warm feeling to all of them. Let me know if you liked it!

Have a nice day!

The GoM, Takao, Kasamatsu & Reader, Over-Protective Best- Friends Scenarios


Aomine Daiki

“Aomine?” you called as you recognized the silhouette leaning against the fence of the school. You had just finished the activities with your club and felt dead on your feet. The sky was already dark and nobody was around, except for you and him.

“Yo,” the boy replied, putting away his phone and waiting for you to reach him, “Let’s go.” He started moving without waiting, his basketball bag bouncing against his back.

You walked beside him, a furrow creasing your forehead. “Why are you here?”

“Nice to see you too.”

“I’m happy to see you Aomine. Is everything alright? Yes? Good. Now, why are you here?”

“Practice,” he replied rolling his eyes at your antics, stretching his arms with a yawn.

You lifted an eyebrow.

“You don’t finish this late.”

“I-” he tried to argue, but you interrupted him with a jab in the stomach.

“You never do, actually. Not today, not yesterday nor the day before,” you scolded him and he glared back, massaging the sour spot you’ve hit.

“So?” He grumbled, averting his eyes first.

“Are you waiting for me?” you asked bluntly.

A beat of silence.

“So?” he muttered under his breath, hiding his fists in the pockets.

You groaned.

“Aomine! You’ve been waiting for me two hours every day for an entire week! You should go home and rest!” You stopped abruptly, poking angrily at his chest.

He still refused to look at you, cheeks red, but now you could see he was wearing his annoyed-but-stubborn expression.

“And I’ll do it until your stupid club return having normal hours.” He stated firmly.

“It’s still two weeks until the festival!”

“I know,” Aomine finally met your gaze, “But I won’t let you go home at night alone, you dumbass,” he growled before flicking your forehead and resuming walking. “You wouldn’t be able to fend for yourself to save your life…” he muttered, incredulous at your carefree attitude.

“Geez!” you ran to his side again, fighting back a smile, “You’re such a softie, Aho.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” But his voice had no bite and you could hear the half-smile on his lips.

Kise Ryouta

“Kise, what’s that?” you asked, pointing at the bruise on his wrist.

The blond waved his hand nonchalantly, wearing his usual bright smile, and kept drinking his strawberry milkshake.

“No-thing!” he chirped as he noticed you were still waiting for a proper answer.

You frowned, lips pulled into a thin line, and crossed your arms.

“That’s not what the rumors say,” you sharply objected and for a second Kise’s eyes widened in surprise, but he then relaxed again showing a Cheshire-like grin.

“Do the rumors say my Perfect Copy works with judo too?” he asked innocently, batting his eyelashes.

You groaned, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

“Kise! I can’t believe you resorted to violence! What if you got injured?” You perked up to shoot him a glare, but he was still smiling.

“Yeah, he didn’t believe it too, you should have seen his face!” The idiot was even proud of it.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling exasperated.

“Please, Ryouta. Don’t do dangerous shit like this, you are both a model and a player. Don’t.”

The blond shrugged again but turned more serious as he realized you were seriously worried.

“I can’t promise, he shouldn’t have said shit about you,” he commented sharply, but the coldness in his eyes didn’t affect his hand as he grabbed yours.

You sighed, smiling defeated. You already knew it was because of that, yet you still worried about him.
“So, you really, really won’t promise?” you begged, trying your best puppy-look, but Kise was already used to it and burst into a warm laughter.

“No one can speak bad of my best friend and go unpunished,” He hummed satisfied, “But don’t worry, I’m passing every day at the judo’s club to pick up useful techniques!”

Oh shit.

Keep reading

anyway here’s to bi girls who fall in love with and date and marry guys your bisexuality is still valid your love for girls is still valid and your current relationship doesn’t make you straight or any less sapphic than the next wlw. i hope you’re happy in your relationships and that you don’t feel like you’re playing into the “stereotype” that all bi girls end up with guys. it’s okay, you’re okay


au - anne boleyn visiting her daughter elizabeth for the last time

for @glorianas ​‘s birthday

(note: shhhh I KNOW that elizabeth was only 2 years & 8 months old when her mother died *but* when i watched this scene, it gave me a lot of anne & bess’ feels. so… tada!!)

@stellalights posted a drawing of Ladybug as @walsche‘s magical girl design, and it was the final push for me to do my own take. I designed this about three weeks ago but probably wouldn’t have posted it otherwise ^^;

I kind of took the mahou shoujo elements to 11 on this one.

Dear Ellen DeGeneres,

Hi! My name is Shane Burcaw. I’m 25 years old, and I have a disease called spinal muscular atrophy that gives me the supermodel physique you see in my photo. You should see me in heels.

I’ve spent a good portion of my life correcting the misconceptions many people hold about living with a disability. As a kid, when my classmates were afraid to interact with me on the playground, I showed them that we could be the best of friends by running them over during flag football. As a teen, when I was convinced no girl could ever possibly like me, I went to homecoming with my friends and danced my heart out anyway. As a young adult, when years of being looked down upon because of my disability just became too much, I threw myself into a career of using humor to correct the damaging stigmas surrounding disability in our society.

It’s a big day for me, which is why I’m hoping you’ll read this. Today, my second book finally launched to the world after a year in the works! It’s a children’s picture book called “Not So Different,” and it answers many of the most common questions kids ask me about living with a disability in a light-hearted and entertaining way.

Last weekend, my girlfriend and I were out shopping, and a little boy stopped in his tracks when he saw me, pointed at me with wide eyes, and shouted, “Mommy, is that a baby?” His mother was mortified, but occurrences like this are all too common in my life. My goal is that my picture book will become a fun resource for parents and teachers to use with their kids, encouraging more children to grow up embracing diversity and difference!

In hopes of you seeing this, I’m asking my friends, family, and followers to share this post on a massive scale. If I can reach you by making this go viral, I would love nothing more than to send you a copy of my book. It’s the perfect length to read in a single toilet sitting.

With love,


okay i’m not trying to spread any hate, and i have nothing against the girls but IF.. and i mean if because we still don’t know much about ‘love yourself’ yet.. anyway if they’re doing a “love story” and try to connect it to hyyh i’m not okay with that. 

hyyh isn’t a love story it’s much more than that. it deals with a lot of mental issues, abuse, friendship and family problems. i HOPE they’re not trying to force the “this girl came into my life and her love fixed everything” cliche because that’s bullshit and real life doesn’t work like that. love doesn’t fix mental issues and magically make everything okay.

what i’m saying is hyyh deserves so much more than just a generic ‘love will win’ ending that’s been done 100000 times before and i really hope bighit has other plans for the plot. i mean isn’t the concept supposed to be about loving yourself?


Pairing: Harry and Y/N

Word Count: 1600

Prompt (AU) : Harry took his anger out in sex-and you weren’t supposed to do that. He would go to the bar and find others just as terrible and lonely as him, drink, and then sink his sorrows into anything with breast and a hole were to put it. Niall always rolled his eyes the next morning and say to Harry “you’re a proper dick, yeh know that right?”, to which Harry would lift his middle finger up and respond with, “if soulmates are real she would love me anyhow.”

“Harry when you meet her your life will change,” Anne says, handing him a cup of tea.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I don’t care to meet her. It’s all bullshit,” Harry grumbles.

Y/N was never much of a talker; she had maybe said eight sentences in her whole life time. She wasn’t sure where the fear really came from, the fear of saying the wrong thing, of being too loud, of not being heard, so she kept to herself. People didn’t seem to understand though, they couldn’t comprehend why she chose to not talk, so she was labeled as weird, freak, stupid etc. Then they labeled her as mute (and she was) but she hated that term, she really did, Y/N just hated being labeled. At first it hurt, it really did, but Y/N soon learned to ignore them, she could only really care about what her Soulmate would have to say, and deep down a part of her wished that they were like her, quiet.

Soulmates, Y/N had been waiting for hers for a long time. She could remember sitting in class in fifth grade, when the teacher explained the process. She explained how everyone was born with a mark, a mark that only their other half had and she made them find that mark. Y/N’s was on her wrist, it was small, and lighter than her regular skin color, she wasn’t sure what it was at first, it just looked like a stick. But the teacher explained how the mark gets more detailed as they get older and closer to finding their person, and Y/N had noticed how that mark slowly grew into a small flower, a petal or two still missing.

Her teacher explained how every person was made for the other, and that they would feel their soulmates emotions, pain, negative thoughts, happy thoughts. They were connected and no matter what the other would always feel what their person was feeling. Y/N had learned that her person always seemed to be grumpy.

Keep reading

The Spider Tattoo (Peter Parker x Reader) Soulmate AU

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You hate the idea of soulmate tattoo’s, probably because there’s a giant fricking spider on your hip that moves, as most soulmate tattoos do. But see, most soulmate tattoos aren’t huge fucking spiders, so you have the right to be freaked out.

Warnings: Lots of swearing. More than usual. Oops. Requested by @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-asgard

Word Count: 1,072

Soulmates were stupid. Worst idea ever. Who the hell even thought of them? From what you learned in health class, every person has a tattoo appear on their skin when they find what they love best, and that tattoo is on that exact place on their soulmate’s body, meaning somewhere in the world there was a person with an tiny typewriter right behind their ear.

“So why the fuck do I have a giant ass spider on my hip?” You scream at no one in particular, eyeing the ugly thing through your mirror. You pull your sweatshirt down again, covering the spider. The only good part about it was that it resembled Spiderman’s symbol, one of your favorite heroes. On the con side though, whenever a soulmate was feeling strong emotions, their tattoo would move. So once or twice a day, the giant ass spider would move. You cringe at the thought.

You grab your backpack and angrily shove your books into your backpack, muttering rapidly in a mocking voice. “Soulmates are a beautiful thing, they said.”

The backpack was slung over your shoulder as you stomped out the door. “You’ll love getting your tattoo, they said.

“Well they can go fuck themselves!” You scream into the empty house, slamming the door behind you.

Keep reading

Guys, I have so much to tell you about Will Roland

I may die penniless, unwed, and forgotten, but I will still die happy because I spent four hours of one long-ago summer in a song interpretation master class taught by Will Roland. 

I don’t even know where to BEGIN. To quote Rachel Bay Jones, Will…*bursts into laughter* oh my God, there’s so much Will.

Ramblings about Will Roland under the cut. This is my day with Will Roland.

Keep reading

for some people who asked, no im not going to drop jinki. i didn’t make a post earlier, because the media sucks ass and i was waiting for more info and im glad i did because now more things add up. the girl was standing on a platform and jinki was SO drunk that he stumbled and grabbed her leg then quickly apologized. the girl had every right to tell the police because in a place like a club it’s probably hard to see– she had no freaking clue who was touching her. she said that she’s okay and completely understands and it was all misunderstanding. im not happy that he got so drunk like that, but screw the media for going around saying he sexually harrassed that girl with no real evidence and the people who believed it. at the end of the day im just happy and relieved that the victim is okay, because that’s what really matters. i hope jinki will heal steadily from this and i’ll be there for him like he has been for me.

lunylovegoodlover  asked:

Hi! I just wanted to say that I'm absolutely blown away by your gods & monsters series. I've loved Greek myths for a long time, and I'm really impressed by how you include details of the original stories in your version. After loving her as a kid, I was really bummed to learn that Athena acted as the primary upholder of the patriarchy - if you're taking prompts, would you consider writing something about her? Either way, thanks for writing such an amazing series and sharing it with us!

She believes that she was born without the ability to feel love, that she is destined by the circumstances of her birth to be cold and emotionless and alone.

Bursting from the skull of Zeus, she was borne neither from passion nor love. Neither conceived her and so she can conceive neither. Pallas Athena is born fully grown, steel-eyed and iron strong. Athena is born, and no one weeps.


She has little patience and little love for the rest of her family. Those she is not constantly exasperated by – such as the exuberant twins, Apollo and Artemis’s smiles bright enough to blind – she cannot bear to be around.

Hermes is wise, but greedy, and she won’t stand his avarice. Hephaestus – he’s different, he doesn’t smile often but he has kindness in his eyes and cleverness in his hands. Athena sits beside him in his forge, and he does not avoid her or grow tired of her constant corrections. He takes her criticisms of his work silently, either taking them and reforming his works or ignoring them without giving any sort of explanation. She likes his silences, his large dark eyes, likes the way he built himself better legs instead of trying to get new ones fashioned for him. Zeus could have done it, as could his brothers, but Hephaestus did not ask.

Aphrodite is born as she was, and for a moment Athena thought she would no longer be alone, that she would have a sister of her heart. But Aphrodite is the personification of love and passion, and does not struggle with their absence as Athena does.

Her new sister’s coming is a double blow. The goddess is beloved by all, coveted by all, pursued by all – including Hephaestus. Athena doesn’t believe the loveliest woman in existence will choose a malformed god that does not even have a throne on Olympus, but she is wrong.

The gods compete for her, offer her castles and servants and all manner of extravagant gifts. Ares campaigns the most aggressively for her hand, promising all sorts of things that no sane man would barter.

Hephaestus offers a single copper rose fashioned from his own two hands.

Aphrodite goes home with him. Her throne on Olympus, empty more often than not, becomes adorned with simple copper flowers.

Athena tells herself she did not want him anyway, and forces what’s left of her heart to turn to stone.


Medusa is a simple village girl. She has thick black hair she wears in braids, dark skin, and startlingly green eyes. Many call her beautiful, but she does her best to hide it, wearing simple grey dresses and letting no makeup adorn her face, allows not a single glittering necklace around her neck.

She is clever. Her father is a farmer, her mother a midwife, but she thinks she could be more. She becomes a priestess of the goddess Athena where she’s educated by the other priestesses, her now-sisters, Stheno and Euryale.

Her attempts to be plain are not successful for long. She catches the eye of Poseidon, a god so tremendously powerful that her knees shake whenever he looks at her. Medusa does not leave the temple often, terror clutching her heart whenever she catches sight of Poseidon waiting for her at the edge of the village.

She does not go to him. She hopes he will stop waiting.

One day a messenger comes to the temple, sweat soaked and eyes wide. “Priestess Medusa!” he gasps, “please, come with me! My wife – she’s having a difficult birth, the midwife said to come to you. You must help us!”

Medusa wavers. She is not a disciple of Artemis, but her mother trained her well. Theirs is not a large village – if she refuses to help, if she places her fear over this almost-mother’s needs, she is not fit to call herself the priestess of any goddess. “Lead the way,” she says, swallowing down her fear and lifting her skirts to follow the man out of the safety of the temple and into the village.

The birth is long, and hard, and she and the midwife are only partially successful. The mother is saved, but of the two children who grew in her womb only one still breathes. The father thanks her even as he touches the cheek of the babe they could not save, and Medusa tries not to wonder if they would have both lived if she had not hesitated. She does not think so, but knows the possibility will haunter her regardless.

He offers to walk her back, but she declines, unwilling to separate him from his new family, and makes the long walk to the temple alone.

She’s almost there when a man appears, easily walking besides her. His eyes are sea-storm blue and his skin tanned, tall and thick with rippling muscles. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, mouth tilted up that the corner.

Medusa stares, heart in her throat, and can think of nothing to say. So she runs.

She’s on the steps of the temple when a thick arm catches her around the waist. “Not so fast,” Poseidon murmurs, lips dragging against her neck. “We’ve hardly had the opportunity to become acquainted.”

“We can’t,” she says desperately, unwilling to struggle and risk angering him. “We are at a temple of the virgin Athena!”

“Only the steps,” he reaches beneath her skirt, “she won’t mind. It’s all right, isn’t it? You’re such a pretty thing.”

She bites her lips to keep from crying. Poseidon is the god of the sea, and she is merely a mortal woman. “No,” she whispers, sending up one last plea to her patron goddess. “No, I don’t mind.”


Athena is furious. She has no patience for Poseidon’s misdeeds on the best of days, but her priestess, in her temple – she has not the power to kill the god, but she’s eager to teach him a lesson.

She goes storming into his palace, and all his servants go scurrying when they see her.

“Lady Athena,” a soft, amused voice greets, “what a pleasant surprise.”

She turns and glares at the smiling Amphitrite. She never knows what to make of this woman. She’s the personification of the sea itself and is closer to a being like the great Mother Gaia than she is to a goddess. Yet she’s content to be the wife of Poseidon, to be the sea he commands.

“Do you know where your husband is?” she demands.

“Always,” she responds, still with that same pleasant smile, and Athena feels a chill she can’t explain go down her back. “How might I help you, Lady Goddess?”

“He owes me recompense,” she snaps, “He’s raped one of me priestesses in my temple. I demand satisfaction.”

Amphitrite smiles, and Athena is reminded all at once that she’s in the middle of the sea, in the middle of Amphitrite’s domain. This is not the place to cross her. “If it is satisfaction you seek, it is not my husband you should be looking for.” Athena opens her mouth, but Amphitrite cuts her off, “Tend to your priestess, Lady Goddess. Nothing you seek is here to find.”

Athena is too wise to fight a battle already lost. She leaves the palace empty handed.


Medusa sits in a hot spring, legs pulled to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. She has not told Stheno and Euryale of the events of last night. How can she, when they will surely toss her out if she reveals she’s no longer fit to serve in a temple of Athena the Virgin.

“Did you bleed?”

Her head snaps up, and she’s staring into cool grey eyes. “My lady!” she gasps, and hurries to press her forehead to the rock, prostrating herself as best she can in the hot spring.

“I asked you a question,” Pallas Athena says.

Tears gathers in her eyes, and Medusa blinks them away. “No, my lady. He was gentle.”

The words feel sour in her throat, but they are true. He was not rough with her, did not bruise her as the tales say he likes to do, did not leave her bleeding, only with a vague soreness that would be easy to ignore if it had any other cause.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Athena says harshly, grabbing her chin and forcing Medusa to look at her. “There is nothing gentle about what he did. Be still. I will make it so that neither he nor any other man will ever touch you again.”

Dread settles in the pit of her stomach. Medusa had not liked Poseidon’s hands on her – much of her skin is rubbed raw from where she tried to scrub away the phantom sensation of his touch. But she had not planned to remain a priestess forever. She had one day wanted a husband and children of her own, and that desire was not something Poseidon’s actions had managed to change.

But Athena is a goddess, and she is merely a mortal woman.

“Thank you, my lady,” she says, and closes her eyes.

Whatever she does, Medusa hopes it will at least not hurt.


Athena is in one of great libraries when Aphrodite settle besides her. She forces down the instinctual swell of bitterness at the sight of the goddess and says, “Aphrodite. You should have told me you were coming.”

“If I had, you wouldn’t be here,” the other goddess retorts, and Athena keeps her face blank against the entirely accurate accusation. “I know you have a temper, sister, but was not your treatment of your priestess a little harsh? It’s hardly her own fault that she caught the eye of Poseidon.”

It takes a moment for Athena to realize who she’s talking about. “My transformation of Medusa was not a punishment, but a gift.”

Aphrodite snorts, “Some gift. I wouldn’t normally interfere with your affairs, but the girl has been praying at my temple for months. Turn her back.”

“So that another man may make prey of her?” Athena snaps, stung in way she refuses to show at Aphrodite’s chastising. “I think not.”

“The way she is now, no man will love her either,” she says, “Why do you deny her her happiness?”

Athena slams the book shut that she was trying to read, thoroughly incensed. “You stupid girl, why would she ever want a man’s love after what Poseidon did to her?”

“Not everyone is you, Pallas Athena,” Aphrodite says, something cruel in the curl of her mouth, “Not all are so willing to turn all that is capable of causing them pain into stone.”

She knows. Athena supposes it was inevitable, that the goddess of love would know what used to lie in Athena’s heart, but her fists clench anyway. “Did you tell him?”

“My husband remains as oblivious of all but his machines as ever,” she says. “Return Medusa to her former form.”

Athena is not willing to be pushed around by a flowery, half rate goddess who wages no wars and wins no victories. “I refuse. I did right by my priestess.”

Aphrodite shakes her head, but leaves her at long last.


Medusa doesn’t stop praying to Aphrodite, no matter the long years that her prayers go unanswered.

She keeps her snakes covered in a tight headwrap, and they sleep willingly on top of her head.

In the temple, her gaze is of no concern, for her sisters were not men and therefore could not be turned to stone. But every time someone comes calling to the temple, she hides in her room and refuses to come out, terrified of turning some well-meaning traveler to stone on accident.

A wounded man stays at the temple – a hero, with the mark of the gods on him.

Stheno demands that Medusa tends to him, says that she’s the best healer of the three of them. “He’s out cold, and god-touched besides,” Stheno says impatiently, dragging Medusa from her room. “You won’t turn this one to stone.”

Medusa gives in, tending to his wounds, careful to keep her eyes downcast in case he awakens.

He’s a beautiful man, the only one she’s seen in a long time. His skin is a rich bronze, his hair is thick and black, and is cheekbones are high. His lips full and soft, as Medusa discovers when she carefully skims her fingers over them. “His name is Perseus,” Euryale tells her.

“Perseus,” she repeats, and flushes all over.

She goes to him in the night and sits besides him. At first she only watches him, waiting for his wounds to heal and for him to awaken and leave. But days pass, and he heals, but slowly. She starts talking to him, describes her days as a child. She tells him of her parents, of training to be a midwife, of how she eventually rejected that training to become a priestess of Athena. Days pass to weeks, and she speaks of Poseidon, of the gift (curse, her sisters say, when they think she cannot hear them) Athena gave her, of the future she coveted and has now lost forever.

She holds his hand as she talks, traces the lines of his hands and both dreads and hopes for the day that he awakens.

The day comes. She hides in her room and sits with her legs to her chest, just like on that day that Athena came to her.

There’s footsteps and then a knocking on her door. “Medusa?” a deep voice calls, “Are you in there? It’s Perseus.”

She slowly uncurls and walks to her door. She does not open it, but she presses her forehead against it. She wishes she knew what his eyes looked like.

“If – if you’re in there, I just – I just wanted. I – Thank you, Medusa. For tending to me. I would not be alive if not for you. I can never repay you for your kindness.”

He stands there, waiting, but she cannot bring herself to speak to him.

“Okay,” he says, softer this time, “It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. I hope we meet again, Priestess Medusa.”

She hasn’t cried in a long time. She’s not surprised to realize she’s crying now.


Days turns to weeks turn to months. She does her best forget the man she never truly met.

Then he returns.

She’s sitting in the library when Euryale comes for her, telling her she’s needed in the main room.

She barely catches sight of him before she bolts, hurrying to leave before she accidentally kills him. Euryale blocks her way, glaring. “You will not turn him to stone, Medusa. Go.”

“Priestess Medusa,” he calls out with that same rich voice, “I’m wearing a blindfold. Our gazes will not meet. Please, do not run from me.”

She takes a deep breath, forcing her heart to calm and her limbs to stop trembling before she can make herself turn and face him. She takes lead-laden steps until she stands in front him. He has fresh scars from when she saw him last, and she aches to touch them.

He holds out a small box to her. “Please know these are yours no matter your answer, Priestess Medusa. They are not bargaining chips. They are a gift.”

“Thank you,” she says automatically, confused. “My answer to what?”

He smiles at her. His lips look even nicer like that. “Lady Medusa, I heard you all those nights you were by my side, all those long hours when your voice guided me back to the mortal realm. I have traveled the world, and I have yet to meet a woman as extraordinary as you. I would take you for my wife, Lady Medusa, if you are willing.”

Her knees buckle, and his hands wrap around her elbows, holding her upright. “I can’t,” she chokes out. “I can’t, I’ll kill you.”

“The box in your hands holds a pair of eyes,” he says softly. “Take off my blindfold.”

It can’t be. He can’t be saying what she thinks he is. She raises a trembling hand and removes the blindfold.

Where his eyes should be there is only emptiness. There’s minimal scarring, meaning they were removed in intentional precision. “If you take my eyes for you own, you will no longer have to worry about turning people to stone. I doubt they are as lovely as yours must be, but I wish for you to have them none the less. I wish for you to have the choices they provide weather you are my wife or not.”

Medusa carefully transfers the precious, precious box to one hand and grabs the back of Perseus’s neck with the other, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. He wraps a careful arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. He’s warm and solid, and his mouth is soft and pliant. He’s everything she ever hoped being held by a man would be.

Her hair covering falls off, and when they break apart he’s laughing. The snakes unbound are fully grown now, and drape nearly to her waist. They reach out and brush against him. “Friendly, aren’t they?” he asks, holding up a hand for their inspection. “Can I take that as a yes, Lady Medusa?”

Yes,” she says, and kisses him again, just because she can.


Athena sits high on a roof, watching Medusa hang laundry in the baking summer sun. Perseus’s brown eyes fit perfectly in her face, and Athena’s eyes are drawn to the swell of the woman’s stomach.

There’s a shift in the air besides her. “Come to rub my ignorance in my face?”

Aphrodite sighs and leans so they’re shoulder to shoulder. “Dear sister, I would never.”

They sit in silence for a moment, until Athena can take it no longer. “I know you must think me cold–”

Aphrodite bursts into laughter, and Athena is startled into silence. “Your temper runs hot enough to burn all of Olympus to ashes,” she says cheerfully. “Cold has never been a word I would use to describe you. Stubborn, of course. Petty, most certainly. But never cold.”

“I am the only goddess without a lover,” she says blankly, because all know of Artemis and her women, of how Hestia uses her vow of chastity to deter suitors and not much else.

“So?” Aphrodite asks, “I do not see why that matters. Poseidon beds more people than any of us, and yet he runs as cold as the ocean depths he lives in.”

Athena stares, wide eyed, and admits something to her that she’s never admitted to anyone, “I don’t think I was born with the capacity to love anyone.”

Her sister smiles, soft, and says, “Often, love is sacrifice.” Neither of them look to where Medusa takes her blind husband’s hand and places it against her stomach. His laughter is bright and cuts across the air when he feels his child move. “That is an art you know well, sister.”

For a single moment, Aphrodite’s fingers tangle with hers and there’s warm lips pressed against her forehead.

Then she is alone once more.

gods and monsters series part viii

anonymous asked:

Eleanor your head cannons are so wonderful!! I always get so excited when I see that you've elaborated on a new scenario. Your writing always feels spot on for these two. I would love to see how you envision the first night that Isak spends at Even's apartment.

  • I’m thinking it was at least seven different emojis, one of which was the kimono one, sixteen exclamation marks and two sideways selfies of Even sent to Isak’s phone, a message that said, home alone on friday! be there! don’t forget to bring a toothbrush! and then another message that just said, socks.
  • it was Isak knocking on Even’s door late that Friday afternoon because Sana had kept him at school to finish a biology project, asking him to please, please just focus, ending up with oh, all right, you go see your boy, it’s fine, it’ll probably be better if I do it by myself anyway and Isak kind of wanting to stay to prove her wrong but also kind of wanting to see Even, like, now.
  • it was Even opening the door to him, his eyes going all crinkly when he spots Isak, so gorgeous in his white shirt with the sauce stain on it, putting his hands on his cheeks, kissing his forehead and his mouth, telling him, hey you, hey you, you look so cute, how was your day, I’ve been cooking and leading him into the kitchen, putting Isak on the counter to talk about school, and new songs and a trip to Berlin in the summer, just the two of them, possibly, maybe.
  • it was dinner and a movie, Moulin Rouge, which Even had spent half an hour talking Isak into, promises of Paris at night and dancing through the milky way but mostly Isak playing a game on his phone, not into the singing but smiling everytime Even hums along with the songs anyway, smiling bigger when Even tells him I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is now you’re in the world to him, and kisses the top of his head.
  • it was Isak yawning, Even looking up at his bunkbed, asking him top? or bottom? and Isak blushing, shoving him away, like don’t be fucking rude and waving his toothbrush in front Even’s face, telling him I didn’t forget this and I’m going to use this now while you, he points vaguely to the bed then, figure that situation out.
  • it was Even lifting the blanket when Isak comes back, smiling brightly, saying come here now, baby, and you didn’t think I was going to make you sleep on the couch now, did you? and Isak crawling next to Even, putting his cold feet against Even’s shins, Even asking him why oh why must you always do this? and then kissing him, and kissing him more, kissing his neck and his chest and his hip and his knee until they fall asleep, tired and happy, but mostly tired, all wrapped up in each other, two boys in a single bed with the biggest smiles in the world.


❛ They’re safe ❜  
❛ She’s/he’s/they’re safe, just like I promised. ❜
❛ And you get to die for her/him/them, just like you promised. ❜
❛ We’re all men/woman of our word. ❜
❛ This is either madness or brilliance. ❜
❛ It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide. ❜
❛ Me? I’m dishonest. ❜
❛ And a dishonest man/woman/person you can always trust to be dishonest. ❜
❛ It’s the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly.. stupid. ❜
❛ This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught NAME. ❜
❛ You cheated. ❜
❛ Pirate. ❜
❛ You are without doubt the worst pirate I’ve ever heard of. ❜
❛ What’s your purpose? ❜
❛ I confess, it is my intention to commandeer one of these ships. ❜
❛ I confess, it is my intention to raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out. ❜
❛ I said no lies. ❜
❛ I think he’s telling the truth. ❜
❛ If he/she/they were telling the truth, he/she/they wouldn’t have told us. ❜
❛ That’s not true. ❜
❛ I am not obsessed with treasure. ❜
❛ Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate. ❜
❛ You’re supposed to be dead! ❜
❛ The only rules that matter are these: what a man/woman/person can do and what a man/woman/person can’t do. ❜
❛ Pirate is in your blood, boy. ❜
❛ I can let you drown. ❜
❛ So, can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not? ❜
❛ Drink up, me hearties. Yo ho. ❜
❛ You burned all the food, the shade.. the rum! ❜
❛ Yes, the rum is gone. ❜
❛ Why is the rum gone? ❜
❛ It is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. ❜
❛ The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. ❜
❛ Do you really think there is even the slightest chance they won’t see it? ❜
❛ There’ll be no living with him/her/them after this. ❜
❛ I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against PLACE. ❜
❛ There are a lot of long words in there, Miss/Mr. ❜
❛ We’re naught but humble pirates. ❜
❛ What is it that you want? ❜
❛ I want you to leave and never come back. ❜
❛ I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Mean’s no. ❜
❛ I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean. ❜
❛ Too long I’ve been starving to death and haven’t died. ❜
❛ I feel nothing. ❜
❛ You best start believing in ghost stories, NAME. You’re in one. ❜
❛ No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder? ❜
❛ If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it. ❜
❛ I want you to know that I was rooting for you. Know that. ❜
❛ It never would have worked between us, darling. ❜
❛ I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know. ❜
❛ How far are you willing to go to save her/him/them? ❜
❛ I’d die for her/him/them. ❜
❛ You need to find yourself a girl/boy, mate. ❜
❛ Who are you? ❜
❛ No one. He’s no one. Distant cousin of my aunt’s nephew twice removed. Lovely singing voice. Eunuch. ❜
❛ A wedding? I love weddings. Drinks all around! ❜
❛ I love this song. ❜
❛ You’ll be positively the most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main. ❜
❛ You stole my boat! ❜
❛ I borrowed. Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of bringing it back. ❜
❛ It’s frightful bad luck to have a woman on board. ❜
❛ She/he/they go free. ❜
❛ You only got one shot. ❜
❛ We can’t die. ❜
❛ Don’t do anything stupid. ❜
❛ The crew are not to be harmed. ❜
❛ Curse you for breathin’, ya slack-jawed idiot. ❜
❛ You should know better than to wake a man when he’s sleepin’. It’s bad luck. ❜
❛ Savvy? ❜
❛ It’s not worth you getting beat again. ❜
❛ You didn’t beat me. ❜
❛ You ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fair, I’d kill you. ❜
❛ That’s not much incentive for me to fight fair then, is it? ❜
❛ The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers. ❜
❛ You know nothing of hell. ❜
❛ How can we sail to an island that nobody can find with a compass that doesn’t work? ❜
❛ I’m actually feeling rather good about this. ❜
❛ You could surrender. ❜
❛ I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain. ❜
❛ You like pain? Try wearing a corset. ❜
❛ Wretch. ❜
❛ I couldn’t resist, mate. ❜
❛ That’s got to be the best pirate I’ve ever seen. ❜
❛ I cannot just step aside and let you escape. ❜
❛ This shot was not meant for you. ❜
❛ You’re pirates. ❜
❛ Hang the code, and hang the rules. They’re more like guidelines, anyway. ❜
❛ You lying bastard! ❜
❛ Don’t dare impugn me honor, boy/girl! ❜
❛ I always liked you. ❜
❛ It goes with your black heart. ❜
❛ I really rather hoped we were past all this. ❜
❛ Perhaps you’ll conjure up another miraculous escape, but I doubt it. ❜
❛ Do us a favor. I know it’s difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try not to do anything… stupid. ❜
❛ Even a good decision if made for the wrong reasons can be a wrong decision. ❜
❛ Any man who falls behind, is left behind. ❜
❛ Take what you can! Give nothin’ back. ❜
❛ I hardly believe in ghost stories. ❜
❛ We are cursed men. ❜
❛ Will you be saving her/him then? ❜
❛ I can’t swim. ❜
❛ I’m watching over you. ❜
❛ I should have told you from the moment I met you. I love you. ❜
❛ Hang him. ❜
❛ Keep your guns on him, men. ❜
❛ How did you escape last time? ❜
❛ This man/woman/person saved my life. ❜
❛ One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness. ❜
❛ Come out… and we promise we won’t hurt you. ❜
❛ I invoke the right of parlay. ❜
❛ I can’t breathe. ❜
❛ You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before? ❜
❛ I had a dream about you last night. ❜
❛ You don’t want to be doing that, mate. ❜
❛ I’m curious. After killing me, what is it you’re planning on doing next? ❜
❛ Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death? ❜
❛ You forget your place. ❜
❛ So, this is where your heart truly lies? ❜
❛ I already feel like a fool. ❜
❛ I admire a person who’s willing to do whatever’s necessary. ❜
❛ You’re a smart man/woman/person, but I don’t entirely trust you. ❜
❛ I’m not sure I deserved that. ❜
❛ I may have deserved that. ❜
❛ You’re safe now. ❜
❛ You’re despicable. ❜
❛ I saved your life, you saved mine. We’re square. ❜
❛ I can get you out of here. ❜
❛ I’d need a lot more to drink. ❜
❛ It was a good plan.. up ‘till now. ❜
❛ Do not make the mistake in thinking you are the only man here who cares for NAME. ❜
❛ Is there a problem between us? ❜
❛ Every decision you’ve made has only brought us from bad to worse. ❜
❛ Easy on the goods, darling. ❜
❛ I’m not entirely sure that I’ve had enough rum to allow that kind of talk. ❜
❛ He’s still breathing. ❜
❛ Easy on the goods, darling. ❜