between being enraged and turned on

Everyone talks about how the books would've turned out if Harry was in Slytherin

But what if Draco ended up in Gryffindor

His family being enraged at first but then trying to use this to their benefit
His parents finding out he befriended Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and realizing Draco could get secrets to help the Death Eaters in the War
Draco having to chose between spending Christmas at Hogwarts with his friends or returning home to his family
Draco having to chose between his family and his friends during the war
Draco realizing that just because they’re related, the Malfoys are NOT his family
Draco promising to fight with Harry and the rest of Hogwarts against Voldemort, and his parents
Draco realizing he loves Harry, but not caring because Ginny makes him happy and that’s all he cares about- Harry’s happiness
Draco crumpling to the ground when Hagrid carries Harry’s dead body out from the forbidden woods
Draco screaming at his parents, calling them horrid names and drawing his wand on them when they call him over
Ron and Hermione holding him back and taking his wand so he can’t curse his parents
Draco standing beside Nevill
Draco running to Harry’s side after Voldemort is finally dead
Draco crying when he finds out Fred died, and hugging the Weasleys
Draco being brave and telling Harry he loves him, which results in Harry kissing him

Draco being placed in Gryffindor as opposed to Slytherin

Miserable Lester, Part One: A Leisurely Character Study, Interrupted By the Protagonist Of a Mountain Goats Song

So, Les Mis opens with like 90 pages dedicated solely to exploring the personality, worldview, and daily life of Bishop Myriel, a character who will not be appearing in the story at all after this. (I make this assumption based on the fact that he is reported dead several chapters later, and I’m pretty sure there aren’t ghosts in this novel.)

I like this part, to be honest; in a lot of stories, a character like the bishop would only exist as a plot device. His role/plot contribution is– spoiler alert– to show mercy and kindness to Jean Valjean by letting him get away with stealing his silverware, then giving him his expensive silver candlesticks on top of that, as a gift. This act both blows Jean Valjean’s mind in a way that enables his moral transformation– it’s been about 900 years since the last time anyone was kind to him, and he hasn’t behaved in a way that warrants it–, and gives him the resources he needs to start a new life outside of prison. The narrative doesn’t actually need to establish the bishop as a nuanced, well-rounded figure for Jean Valjean’s redemption to be believable and effective; it would work fine if readers only ever knew as much about the bishop as Jean Valjean does. (Which isn’t a lot.) And, from a technical perspective, I have to admit that would probably be a “better” pacing decision.

However, Victor Hugo LOVES writing characters. Oh my god. This guy is SO INTO his own characters, guys. He has no problem stopping the plot dead in its tracks to give you exposition on someone’s backstory or general outlook on the world. This can happen with almost anybody, at any time. You’ll be ambling along through the text, following the main thread of the story where it leads you, and suddenly, WHAM! Victor Hugo ambushes you with a digression about a person who would be credited as “Man In Coffeeshop”, “Elderly Neighbor”, or “Random Jackass #2” if this were a Hollywood movie. Since I am someone who is a lot more focused on and interested in Characters than Plot and/or Concepts in my fiction, this tendency doesn’t bother me.

…In fact, I really appreciate the degree to which it gives me a sense that this novel takes place in a real world, inhabited by real people, who all have their own histories and dramas and lives worth caring about even if we the readers aren’t privy to that much of them. No one in Les Mis (so far) comes across as an NPC. A literary NPC. You know what I mean, right?

Keep reading

Romano: The moment he saw the hand coming for you he would already be enraged. The moment the hand connected to your skin he would be in a blind fury. Pity the man who hits his love at all, pity the man even more for hitting them in front of him. Before even you could fully react, he’d be a blur, flying “claws out” and ready to enact his revenge. He would punch first and consider asking questions later. For such a small man, when enraged, he packs a wallop. Once he’s dropped the offending excuse for a human being, he would turn his attention towards you and ask if you were alright. He’d still sound angry, he’d be coming off his anger-high, but his eyes would tell you he was scared and worried. He would reach for you with shaking hands, hug you, kiss you, and remove you from the situation. He would bring you to the police station so you could report what happened.

Spain: He would make an enraged noise the moment he saw the hand coming for you. He would try to throw himself between you and the man, but would not make it in him. His own fist, however, would already be flying in retaliation before anyone else could react to what just happened. One solid punch was all he needed to land before flying into a rage of questions, asking why he had done such a thing and “who do you think you are?!” he would slip between English and Spanish, not giving the man a chance to get a word in edgewise. He would draw himself up to his full height, and when finally out of words and curses to throw at the man, he would demand an apology and explanation. Then, he would take you, kiss you, ensure you were alright, then take you to the police station to file a report, then to the hospital to get looked at by a medical professional. Perhaps a little overboard (the hospital, not filing a police report), but he wanted to make sure you were 100% alright.

Italy: He never would have thought someone would ever have the desire to hit you - it must have been an accident! The moment he heard his hand connect with your face he would scream. He would break down in tears and grab you, pulling you into his chest and then pushing you to stand behind him. “Why would you do this?” he would cry out to the man, sobbing for some sort of reasonable explanation as to why he would do such a thing. His fear and concern would turn to rage when he did not get the answer he was looking for. He would not physically act out, but he would give the man a piece of his mind, before taking you by the hand and pulling you away. Once safe, he would thoroughly inspect you to make sure you were alright, all while dropping feather-light kisses to the top of your head, your cheeks, your hands, trying to reassure you (and himself) that everything was okay. 

Bad Boy - Jaebum pt 4

part one, part two, part three

Originally posted by gotpmgifs

Why was he here, of all people. Why him? It all made sense why the motorcycle was familiar but why did it have to be his. And if it was his and these were his parents that meant he was you neighbor.

You wanted to scream but you held yourself together for the sake of you parents.

“Hello I’m Y/N” you announce before bowing and taking a seat across from JB and his parents.

“Oh Y/N, we heard so much about you. This is our son Jaebum” JB’s mother announced.

You wanted to jump over the table and smack the grin off his face but knowing that wouldn’t end your night  off too well, you decided to at least try to remain calm.


You began growing more aggravated with being stuck in the same room as JB let alone across from him, and before it would grow noticeable for both your parent to become aware, you decided to volunteer for dish duty. Your parents looked at you surprised. the fact that you never did dishes unless you were told to made it very suspicious but neither one of of them rejected your offer.

“I’ll help you” JB said, grabbing the plates from you hands swiftly,already heading toward your kitchen.

Once you were in the kitchen, you began scrubbing the plates clean, ignoring his presence although it would be much easier if he were to leave. Instead he leant against your refrigerator, observing you as you took your time purposely washing what was left in the sink to kill time.

“So where were you really”

“What do you mean”

“I think you know what I mean very well” JB said raising his eyebrow as he fold his arms.

“Why do you even care? It’s none of your business anyways” you shot back coldly before turning around glaring at him.

“You know what-” he grew closer to you as you now stood face to face. His face was serious for the first time and it took you off guard. You were used to him wearing a smirk on his face but now as you looked at him all you saw was worry. It made you curious as you waited for him to finish his sentence. Why would he care?  It was true that it was none of his business but the way his face was full of warnings as if trying to tell you something, but what ?

“Forget it. Let’s just go back to our parents. You don’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore.”

As school began Monday, you couldn’t shake JB out of your head. Just thinking about the intensity in his eyes made you shiver. You were confused. One minute he went from being the jerk in school that kept hitting on you and now he was your neighbor who warning you of something.

The bell rung for lunch and you were in no mood to eat. You grabbed your things, deciding to go for a walk to clear your mind as well as get some fresh air.

You couldn’t shake the guilty feeling you had off. Maybe you were a little too cold toward him you thought.

As you walked you noticed someone sitting on the school bench listening to music. As you grew closer you realized it was JB.  One part of you wanted to go over and apologies but another just said to ignore him. He said he’ll leave you alone so maybe you should do the same.  

Walked passed him feeling more guilty than before. Maybe you should turn back ? You thought. Before you could you began hearing familiar voices ahead of you.

“I really had fun with you today”

“I had fun with you too”

You eyes grew big as you heart dropped. You should have known it was too good to be true.

Standing in front of you was mark with a girl from your physics class who was ‘absent’ for class today. Now you knew why.

“ I really hope I can see you again” Mark said.

You left out a laugh as a tear fell down your face. Maybe from the autumn wind or from the sight in front of you but did it matter at this point ? You were pissed off that was clear as day.  You were more mad at yourself then anything. You blinded by his face and didn’t realize him for the player he was.

Mark turned to see you standing there.

“Y/N..” He whispered as his eyes grew big, knowing that you saw and heard everything.  

You were disgusted, refused to stand there any longer. Walking back towards the school you heard the noise of footsteps behind you but refused to turn back.  The footsteps grew closer and before you knew it, Mark yanked at you risk making you turn around to look at him.

“ Y/N I can-”

“Let go of me”

“I will once you let me explain”

you scoff under your breath growing more enraged by being his presents. what was there to explain when you saw everything? did he really think that low of your intelligence?

“Mark let go”

“She said let go”. You turn around to see JB who is now standing behind you like a wall of protection.

“ this is none of your buisness JB. This is between me and her” Mark spoke.

You stood there more shocked then anything. They know each other  and from your guess it wasn’t friendly. The tension was strong in the air.

A small smile curled up on JB face as if what Mark said was amusing. Then his eyes grew even more intense as he held back built up anger. You could see some fear in Mark’s eyes but he stood steady but hesitant. JB took it as a joke. everything was a joke to him and right now mark was the biggest joke of them all.

You looked JB in his eyes,pleading for him to help. You finally understood his warnings. He knew Mark was no good and wanted to protect you. But why you?

“You know what, you can have her. She not even worth it” Mark spit out before letting go of your arm and walking away.

JB was more enraged now more than ever and he clench his jaw line, making it more defined than before. You were sure any minute now steam would be visible coming out of his ears. he balled up his fisted ready to charge after him but you stopped him as you took a step closer to him, blocking him from moving any further. You put your hand to his chest, begging him no. You were too drained of your own energy and you didn’t want anyone more hurt than you were right now.

He looked at you in pain as he watch you began crying wants more. Before you knew it JB pulled you into a bear hug, but this time you did not resist. He held your head to his chest,not caring how soaked it would be from your tears as he caressed your back like a mother would burping a newborn.  

“Y/N, I am so sorry”

stucky speed piece for getyourwordsout @ dreamwidth

Steve turned his head to the water, the shower almost unbearably hot against his face. His entire body was one big ache. He’d just gotten back from a mission, one that had him and Natasha running around South Africa for three weeks.

Bucky had protested violently to being left behind with Sam; while they both would have been useful, Steven couldn’t in good conscious have Bucky out on the field. He was still too unstable, swinging between a dead-eyed ghost and an enraged specter. There were moments when he seemed…okay, with clear eyes and a crooked grin but those times were still too few. Steve had woken up more than once with Bucky crouched over him, metal had resting heavily on his throat.

The pace was slow, frustratingly so, but extensive therapy was helping. It was.

Turning off the shower, Steve pulled open the shower curtain and jumped, slipping a bit on the wet floor; Bucky stood in the bathroom, his back pressed against the closed door.

“Jeez, Buck,” Steve said, pressing a hand against his chest. “You scared me.” Bucky didn’t reply and Steve reached for a towel. “I’ll be out in a sec, okay? Want some breakfast? We should get some-”

“We were lovers.”

Freezing, Steve gripped the towel for a moment before scrubbing it over himself roughly. “Let me get dressed-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky sounded closer and Steve startled backwards, slipping again; Bucky grabbed his arm, steadying him, even as a thundercloud grew on his brow. “You had to know I would start getting memories. Of us.” His eyes dropped and Steve flushed. Attempting to pull his arm away, he only succeeded in pulling Bucky closer, the latter apparently unwilling to let him go.

“. Let me get dressed and we can talk-”

“No. Talk now.”


Tell me,” Bucky said, voice raising. “Why haven’t you…why didn’t you…”

Steve took a deep breath. “I…Bucky, I didn’t want to, to make your recovery any more difficult.” He shook his head and dropped it. “I didn’t want you to think that I had ulterior motives for helping you.”

There was silence for a moment before cool metal curled around his jaw, jerking his head up. Bucky’s eyes were narrowed, jaw clenched. “You sure you weren’t just looking out for yourself?”


“Not saddling yourself with a crazy person.” Bucky said it evenly, even nonchalantly, but the muscles around his eye were tight.

Steve blinked rapidly, mouth gaping. “Wha…Bucky, no. No.” He grabbed the wrist of Bucky’s metal arm but didn’t pull it from his face. “That’s not it at all. I’m with you already, pal.” He grinned a little helplessly. “I’m already saddled with you and I…I wouldn’t have it any other way, okay?”

Bucky stared at him for a moment before nodding and pressing his mouth against Steve’s in an awkward, unskilled kiss. Just as Steve realized what was happening, Bucky seemed to remember how to do it; he cupped Steve’s head, tilted his own, and licked against the seam of Steve’s lips. For a moment, Steve allowed it, opening his mouth and nipping at Bucky lips, before jerking back. “Wait, no.”

“Why?” Bucky said impatiently, stepping into the shower and crowding Steve against the wall, his boots squeaking against the damp floor. “I want to. I want you. You…want me?”

“I do, Buck,” Steve said, not sure if admitting that was the best idea. “But…you’re-”


“Dependent,” Steve finished. “You're so dependent right now and that’s…that’s not a bad thing, you’re recovering from something that…but I…I’m-”

“My most important thing. My only important thing.” Bucky stared at him, face horribly, beautifully open, and Steve reflexively swallowed.

“It would feel like I was taking advantage of you. You…I’m your only link right now. I’m everything. I would feel like…like them. You’re in such a vulnerable state-”

“That’s bullshit,” Bucky said, eyes widening, taking on a manic gleam. “I’m not…you would never-”

“But it would feel that way to me,” Steve said gently. “You need to heal. We…we both need to heal before we start anything else.”

Bucky stared at him. “But I want you,” he said hoarsely.

Steve closed his eyes, pressing Bucky’s hand against his cheek. “You already have me,” he said. “You always did.”


Sometimes Steve woke up with cold metal circling his throat. Sometimes Bucky raged, destroying everything he could get his hands on. Sometimes he sat in the corner of the room, shoulders slumped and eyes dead.

But small things changed. Bucky touched Steve more, gentle taps with his metal hand, his flesh hand occasionally gripping Steve’s shoulders or wrists. He stared sometimes with a half-grin on his face; whenever Steve asked him about it Bucky just shook his head but that half-grin never faltered. He spoke with Natasha quietly in Russian and questioned Sam about pop culture and eventually started interacting more with the world around him.

It came to a head when Steve woke up to Bucky sitting at the foot of his bed. Hesitating for a moment, Steve lifted the covers and Bucky slid in. He curled around Steve, arms and legs gripping as if he never wanted to let go and Steve allowed it, pulling him closer and closing his eyes, letting Bucky’s steady heartbeat and gentle breathing lull him back to sleep.