but i think it ended up better than what i expected

Notes to the girl whose house I live in

by reddit user JJX2525

It took me a week to find where you keep your wifi password. A whole week! I was really worried you’d thrown it away, but lo and behold, there it was in the cutlery drawer of all places. Everything about the way you organize things confuses me. I guess because you live on your own now you just put things any old place. I know there was someone else before, I heard you talking about him on the phone. Johnny, I think? Jimmy? Anyway, I know because you said it was tough being alone. But you’re not alone, of course. You have me!

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Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.

But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.

Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.

Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.

He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One.  He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)

He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible. 

Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.

He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgiveness
Pay off every witness

When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.

*******

It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.

I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with at best a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?

There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth.  The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.

(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)

The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.

The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy.  Specifically, it was the lines

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.

(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)

In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs?  He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.

At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it. 

Why I Quit German

WARNINGS: This story is really gross and/or horrifying but also hilarious imho.  Your health always comes first, so mind the tags:  Violence, Cannibalism Mention, Suicidal Ideation, Feces, Sleep Deprivation, Airplanes, I generally had a really bad time but now it’s hysterical.  Most of the story is under the cut because it’s eight miles long.


In August of 2009 I flew back to Honolulu to do my sophomore year of college with the intention of entering 400-level german. What happened instead is the closest I’ve ever come to personally dying or actually murdering someone.

The problem started the day before my flight, when I attended a birthday party for a very dear cousin in Denver, and due to be in 1 of 2 adults present, ended up driving a bunch of teenagers home and didn’t get home until 12:30 that night.  Oh well, my flight’s at 6AM anyway, I’ll just stay up. I can sleep on the plane, I thought, like a complete fucking fool.

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Okay so, I’ve read tons of posts and to be honest? I wouldn’t be all that surprised if Black Paladin Lance is end game. It makes total sense from a character arc development standpoint and I feel like it’s been hinted at from the very beginning. I mean, hello? Lance is literally the one who brought the team together. It doesn’t…get more obvious than that.

And trust me, I’m super happy for Lance. In fact, if/when it happens, you probably won’t ever get me to shut up about it. But I just kinda wanted to focus on a detail that occurred to me after the train of thought that Black Paladin Lance:

If Lance becomes the Black Paladin, who’s going to be piloting Red probably? Keith. So what does that mean?

Now Keith is gonna be Lance’s right hand man

Now, hear me out, I don’t mean this in a Klance way (of course it can totally mean that if you want to go nuts) but in what this means for Keith’s character. And yes, I hear you, let’s not make this “all about Keith”. That’s not what I’m intending from this post, trust me, if Voltron wanted to make everything about Lance from now on you definitely wouldn’t be hearing me complain (lol)

It’s just. Can you imagine what this development means for Keith’s resolution to his character arc and growth?

Stick with me here, because I’m going to do some deep character analysis on why I think this is the perfect end to Keith’s arc and that, if this really does play out like how I think it will, I couldn’t be happier with the writers/creators.

Character analysis below the cut:

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There’s a Ball?

So, this was a prompt. I have included the ask at the very end this time because I don’t want to give away the spoiler! Another one that was slightly longer than expected. Oh well. 

———————————–

            “Did you hear?” A boy whispered in delight, voice echoing around the now silent corridor. Draco rolled his eyes heavily. What was with immature people being obsessed with gossip? One would think that there would be better things to talk about than mindless shite.

             “Harry Potter is coming back for the Remembrance Ball next month!”

               Draco froze as he fought the urge to demand the boy to spill his sources. It wouldn’t do well to bring himself attention, especially about Potter.

               Excited whispers broke out as they all waited for Slughorn to open his door for class.

               “Where did you hear that?” Smith asked doubtfully. “Someone else brought up Potter at the beginning of the year but it turned out to be false.”

               For once, Draco was rather grateful for the Hufflepuff’s insight. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be a recurring thing.

               “I overheard McGonagall telling Flitwick about it when I was passing by the staffroom.”

               Draco furrowed his brows. If Potter was stopping by for a visit, Granger or Weasley would have acted like it, wouldn’t they? He shot a look towards Granger, who had a book on Modern Goat Conspiracy Theories compared to Anciently Deceased Theories open in one hand and their Potion’s book in the other. Surely, she couldn’t be reading both, right? Weasley had his head resting on Granger’s shoulder and appeared to be asleep. His mouth was open and Draco was pretty sure he saw drool.

               The clang of the door opening had Draco putting this behind him. It was no doubt just gossip.

 ———————————————————-

               “If Potter is coming back for the ball, who do you think will be his date?” Abbott asked as Draco sighed heavily, a few seats away from her in History of Magic.

               “Who says he has to have a date?” Macmillan asked with a scoff. “I’m going stag and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

               Finch-Fletchley snorted loudly. “You’re going stag because everyone you asked turned you down.”

               Draco was incredibly sick of everyone talking about Potter. This was getting out of hand. What was with everyone being obsessed with the savior? Merlin, there had to be better things to talk about.

               “That’s because he is blind to Abbott’s desperate pining after him.” Draco snarked, not bothering to turn around. He was just fed up with the whole conversation.

               There was a stunned silence that filled the room. Macmillan sounded as if he was choking on his own tongue and that was certainly the highlight to Draco’s day.

               “Is—Is Malfoy telling the truth?” Macmillan whispered, sounding awed. As if he hadn’t noticed that the girl had been in love with him for seven years.

               “I—umm.”

              Draco spared a miniscule moment of guilt as the girl sounded positively miserable. But it was for the best. He knew how this would end. And really, what was a little pain as long as it ended in happiness? Well, if they actually lasted as a couple that is. As a realist, he predicted those two would break up after one or two children.

               “Would you like to go to the ball with me?” Macmillan’s tone was scared, which had Draco rolling his eyes.

               “Yes!” Abbott squeaked out far louder than was necessary, causing Draco to nod approvingly.

               And if a small smile also escaped, well, no one had to know.

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Draw me Like one of your French Girls... Part 1


This fic is dedicated to @yunyin who was a big part of bringing it about in the first place ^_^ 

(Warning some spoilers for ML Season 2- (Just the stuff we knew during the hiatus nothing important from the new episodes) 

“Listen furball, I am ten times as sexy as you are. That is just a fact. People would pay to see pictures of me.”

“People DO pay to see pictures of me,” Chat shot back.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he grumbled, “the point is that I am obviously the sexier of the two of us.”

“Guys, I know this is a slow patrol night but you are giving me a headache,” Rena Rougue sighed, dropping down onto the platform and sprawling onto her stomach against the cool metal of the tower.

“Wait,” Chat said with a terrifying grin, “Rena. My dear, darling, friend.”

“Oh this can’t end well.”

“You are a fox of impeccable taste are you not?”

“Maybe.”

“And you are an excellent judge of both male and female attractiveness as well, are you not?”

“Ladybug is the hottest out of all of you,” she smirked, not bothering to get up.

“Yes, that is a given, but the point is-”

“The point is that I could pull off sexy far better than this mangy stray,” Bee interrupted.

“Could not.”

“Will you two please just stop fighting, it’s been too hot to deal with this level of stupid,” Rena sighed.

“It’s not stupid, my honor is at stake!” Bee huffed. “If you want us to stop then tell him that I clearly would be better suited to being a sex icon than he would.”

“Foxy lady, please tell Bee that she is clearly pollinating the wrong flower.”

Rena groaned. Clearly there would be no reasoning with the two of them until this had been hashed out.

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Never Her

Originally posted by inlovewithacriminals

Pairing: Loki x Reader (ft. the Avengers)

Content/Warnings: Angst; fluff

Words: 1544

A/N: So my Soulmate AU writing extravaganza begins with Loki, my MCU husband. I’ll probably end up writing these Soulmate AUs to be a little longer. This was a request for @bi-pie67 for 7. Your internal voice is the voice of your soulmate’s, rather than your own.


“Are you sure bringing Loki back to the Tower is a good idea?” You asked Thor dubiously. Steve seemed to reflect your sentiment, looking just as doubtful.

“I assure you, Loki will not get into any trouble,” Thor said. “He seems to have had a change of heart, and my father has ensured that he will be unable to use magic while here, at least until we are sure he is trustworthy.”

“I’m going to trust you on this, Point Break,” Tony said. “But if he destroys my tower again, I won’t be happy.”

“I am certain Loki will do no such thing,” Thor said. “I shall bring him here tomorrow, is that okay?” Everyone shrugged, still looking uneasy with the whole idea, though nobody raised any objection to that. “Marvelous! He shall be here tomorrow, then.”

Clint snorted. Out of everyone, he was, understandably, the least excited. “Can’t wait.”

You hadn’t actually been around for the whole Loki debacle, and admittedly you were a little curious to meet Thor’s brother. Some rather colorful tales had been told by the rest of the Avengers about Thor’s ‘crazy adopted brother’, but you wanted to find out for yourself. Plus, as someone who was still waiting to find their soulmate, there was always the little ‘what if it’s him’ in the back of your mind. Your soulmate, at least from what you always heard in your internal voice, sounded British… almost. You couldn’t put your finger on the accent, but it was similar to Thor’s.

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine!” Tony’s voice came over the speakers in the tower the following morning. “Good ol’ Reindeer Games will be here today, so we gotta make sure everyone is ready. You know, just in case he goes rabid reindeer on our asses. That’s all. Over and out.”

Groaning, you rolled out of bed, pulling on some presentable clothes and making sure you were ready to meet Thor and Loki. Thor had informed everyone that he would arrive around noon, giving everyone ample time to get ready. You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee that Steve had made and sitting at the table.

“Sleep okay?” Steve asked, glancing up from his own cup.

“Yeah,”  You nodded. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem. What do you think about Loki coming to stay here?” He asked you.

You shrugged. “Well, I’ve never met the guy, so it’s hard to say. Wary, but curious.”

“All I can say is, don’t get your hopes up too high,” He said with a snort. “I don’t trust the guy.”

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” You said.

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Are You Going To Be An Overprotective Baby Brother?

Pairing: Steve x Henderson!reader 

Request:  Could you do a Steve Harrington imagine of being Dustin’s older sister and prior to the monsters you ignored Steve even though he always tried to flirt because you’re pretty and smart but you’re also snarky and friends with Nancy and Jonathan and BFFs with Dustin and all his friends love you and post monsters with Dustin and Steve’s bromance you start to be friends with him and Dustin notices he likes you and gives Steve a overprotective baby brother speech? You can decide if he makes a move  

Warnings: fluff, a few swear words

A/N: Omg I love this prompt so much! Also, I have a requested El x reader coming out sometime in the next few days :)

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Promise

He finds Lance waiting on his bed for him when he returns to his room, and can tell from a single glance that Lance knows. That somehow— either because Matt or Coran told him, or because he just understands Keith that well, even after so many months apart— Lance knows exactly what happened while Voltron was fleeing Naxzela. What Keith had been prepared to sacrifice. What he’d nearly done.

Lance looks up at the hiss of the door sliding shut. He hasn’t even changed out of his paladin armor. Not fully. His arm guards and chest plate have been removed and discarded on the floor, but otherwise he looks just as he did when Voltron finally reached the Castle again— singed, disheveled, and staring at Keith with large, mournful eyes.

Keith can’t bring himself to meet those eyes. They’re even more blue than Keith remembers, and so full of hurt it makes Keith’s chest ache. Lance should never have to look that way about anything. Particularly not because of him.

Keith turns away and takes his time removing his black, Marmora armor. He can’t bear to see Lance so upset. Can’t stand the heavy silence between them. The thick tension just waiting to snap. Can’t stand it at all, but also can’t think of anything to say to dispel it. Words were never his forte, after all. He was much better with actions. Except, this time, his actions are what’s causing this situation, and he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

He hangs his armor in his closet— the one spot of black among all the red and white he’s so used to wearing. A visual reminder of all he’s left behind. All he’s given up so his team can keep moving forward. Across the room, Lance shifts. He shifts, and he clears his throat, and Keith closes his eyes, waiting, as always, for Lance to cut through the tension. For the berate that’s surely on his tongue. For the angry words and endless rants he’s come to expect from Lance.

It doesn’t come, though. When Lance finally speaks, it isn’t loud, or enraged, or anything Keith’s used to. It’s soft, instead. So soft he barely hears it. And so rough and broken it nearly breaks his heart.

“Keith,” Lance murmurs, voice shaking even over that single word. “Why?” Why did you leave? Why did you abandon us? Why did you give up? “You glorious, reckless idiot. Why did you do it?”

Why did you almost let yourself die?

Keith swallows thickly. “Something had to be done,” he answers. “It was the only choice.” He glances over his shoulder at Lance and gives him a sad smile. “After all, the universe needs Voltron. It doesn’t need me.”

“We need you,” Lance protests, standing. He crosses the room in three quick strides and turns Keith to face him, hands gripping Keith’s shoulders like iron vices, and the most serious expression Keith’s ever seen across his face. “I need you.”

And if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing Keith’s ever heard. Because if either of them needs the other, it’s not Lance. It’s not this boy who shines so brilliantly, who is everything Keith has ever wanted to be and more, who could probably charm the whole universe into peace if he really put his mind to it.

Keith’s smile turns wry and he shakes his head. “No you don’t, Lance,” he says, emphatically because he needs Lance to understand. “You don’t need me. Just look at everything you’ve done.” Look at all the people you’ve saved and inspired and encouraged in a way that I never could.

It’s not enough to convey everything Keith thinks about Lance, of course, but he honestly doesn’t think any words in the English language (or any language, even) will ever be enough. There’s no way to describe the way Lance shines in his element. The obvious joy he brings to his flying, and the fierce passion that flares through his fighting. The excitement he exhibits whenever they find a new ally. The way he draws people to him without any actual effort. The way he cares and protects and gives hope wherever he goes.

He’s a much better paladin than he gives himself credit for, and much more valuable to the team than Keith ever could be. Keith’s absence over the past few months has proven that. Has shown Voltron can continue, and even thrive, without him. That they would continue to do so even if Keith had died. They’d still have their heart, after all— it’s right there inside Lance. He’s the drive that pushes them all forward, and the glue that holds them all together, and if Keith can keep that alive by sacrificing himself, he doesn’t consider death too great a loss.

Clearly, however, Lance doesn’t agree. “That’s not what I meant,” he chokes out, voice watery and blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s not what I meant at all, you idiot. This isn’t about the team, or Voltron, or even the whole goddamn universe.” His hands shift, sliding across Keith’s shoulders and up his neck to cup his face. Keith fights not to lean into the warmth of Lance’s hands, but when Lance gently tilts his head back he knows it’s a lost cause. He’s so weak to the man standing in front of him. Weaker still to the way his bright blue eyes bore into Keith, more intense than they’ve ever been before. More urgent. More desperate. More filled with longing.

“I’m your right-hand man, aren’t I?” Lance asks softly, so close now that Keith can feel his warm breath against this skin. “We’re in this together, you and me. I’d follow you to ends of the universe. So just please,” he pleads. “Please. Promise me you won’t go where I can’t follow.”

And how can Keith say no to that?

The tears are falling down Lance’s cheeks now, wet streaks against his dark skin. And, this time, seeing Lance so upset over him, over the near loss of him, Keith’s heart does break. It cracks and shatters under the weight of Lance’s grief, and Keith already knows it will never fully recover. Even if he tries to tape it back together and pretend it’s all alright, there will still be fragments missing— little shards that will belong to Lance, and Lance alone, whether Lance realizes that or not.

Keith closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He turns his head into Lance’s hand, pressing his lips lightly against Lance’s skin, and if Lance is surprised by the gesture, he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t try to pull away or even protest.

“Ok,” he murmurs against Lance’s hand. “Ok, Lance. I promise.”

He’d do much more for Lance if Lance ever asked it of him, but supposes this promise is a good place to start. And when Lance smiles for the first time all day, and then pulls Keith into a tight embrace, he wonders why he ever thought leaving was a good idea. Lance’s arms are warm around him, more comforting than anything Keith’s ever known, and beneath the palm Keith’s spread flat against Lance’s back, he feels the faint, steady thump of Lance’s heart. Takes comfort in the fact that Lance is alive and well and right there with him. Takes comfort in the fact that Keith himself is still alive to feel it.

And, for now, that is enough.

steve harrington x reader • cold coffee

Summary: Waking up next to Steve is something that you can get used to.

Word Count: 1600+

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, some language.

Notes: I started writing something angsty and got sad so I wrote this to make myself feel better. Idk man, idk. It got longer than I wanted?? and off topic?? I just love these kids and i love Steve Harrington.

Requests are OPEN!

Originally posted by cameronxboyce

Dating Steve Harrington came with a lot of surprises. The whole Upside Down thing, oddly enough, wasn’t one of them; you’d stumbled into that whole mess before you’d even met him, thanks to your insatiable curiosity and tendency to nose around places you really had no business being in. No, the oddities that Steve brought to your life were much more mundane, and all the more surprising for that.

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Comic dub of an Overwatch fancomic by @artbytesslyn - featuring the voices of @totalspiffage as Widowmaker, @hnilmik as Sombra, and myself as Reaper!

Woof. This comic dub was QUITE the undertaking. STORY TIME: a few months back, I approached Tesslyn to see if she’d be interested in letting me turn her Patreon-only comic series “Ghost” into a comic dub. We decided that the best time to release said dub would be after she had done enough pages to put together a single comic on Gumroad, and I could drive some sales towards that. Perfect!

Cut to a month ago, Tesslyn shared her finished comic with me and my first impression was “oh no I  may have bit off more than I can chew what have I done”. Let me break down some of my fears going into mixing this, and how they got overcome. Or maybe the fears remained and I just got super lucky and this comic dub got done anyway. One of those!

First of all, atmosphere. While I’d done atmospheric comic dubs before, I’d never done one THIS long and where many sustained moments were held over several panels with no dialogue or very minimal dialogue. This meant a lot of thinking about “how long do I hold on this panel? how long would be too long or too short?”; I usually rely on dialogue beats for that (eg panel is revealed, dialogue starts, dialogue ends, panel changes, repeat) but now that I had something a little freeform it was time for a mild panic attack. In the end I went with my gut and “eyeballed” it (“eardrummed” it? no that’s terrible) and I think I managed to get this out all right! At least, I hope so.

Second of all, music. I was REALLY tempted to use the music I’d heard playing the visual novel “The House in Fata Morgana” and was weighing up the pros and cons of using music associated with another game and the possibility of having this video hit with a copyright claim. In the end I decided “what the heck, I’m really feeling that game’s soundtrack for this dub!” and went with it. At first, I was using the track “This Mutilated Body” by Yusuke Tsutsumi, which I thought was PERFECT (both in terms of the mood conveyed and the title); but I just couldn’t really make it flow with the comic dub as a whole piece, it went a little bit too hard and had way too much energy. Then I tried using “Everybody’s Crying” (also by Yusuke Tsutsumi) and that worked out much better; the piece flowed with the rise and ebb of emotions in the comic, and the title still works as well! In any case, there’s a second audio mix of “Ghost” with different background music on my computer and I dunno what to do with it.

Third of all, ACTING. For a comic centered around Widowmaker, I was not nearly expecting the amount of emotional heavy lifting Sombra had to do. And super lucky times for me: Kimlinh knocked it out of the hotdamn park. HOTDAMN ACTING. I actually got a little bit teary mixing the part where Sombra starts attacking Reaper; and completely put off the part where she realises that BOTH her friends are running out of time, because I felt like I couldn’t do the mix proper justice. Tamara was also super great as Widowmaker (and a surprise appearance from Amelie!) with both her usual cold demeanour, and a surprisingly gentle side coupled with the quiet, tired acceptance of her forthcoming expiration. And finally, I am also there. I smoulder with barely restrained rage. Is what Reaper does.

I’d talk sound effects, but at this point I think this has gone on long enough. Long story short: sound effects are both the blessing and the bane of my sound mixing existence. Finding the sound of a plasteel (presumably) mask hitting the ground? What kind of ground is it anyway: soft, hard, gravel? How loud should the simulated tinnitus be so its presence is felt without actually hurting the ears of the audience? What does the hum of a hologram sound like? I can’t find the sound of someone getting pummeled by angry hispanic fists, so it looks like I’m going to have to record myself hitting myself! Where can I sneak in the Wilhelm scream THIS time?

ANYWAY! If you enjoyed that, why not watch some of my other comic dubs?

It Ain’t Me: Part 10 (I)

Jungkook x Reader ft. Yoongi

Request: Can you make a fake text about how bf hears a rumor about y/n and decides to break up without even knowing the true facts

Words: 2.4 K

Genre: Angst

Part 9 | Part 10 (II)

Check out my Masterlist!





Jungkook had barely gone to sleep when his cell came to life, ringing relentlessly to wake him up. He thought about ignoring it. Sleep didn’t come to him easy these days because a perpetual movie was playing in his mind since the day he found out about his sin. It started with the first time he had met you. 


He remembered being star struck as he ran his eyes all over you unconsciously in the fated get together of mutuals where he had first met you, trying to register all your features because god you were beautiful. An ethereal creature amongst meager men. He remembered the way your lips curved slightly as you savored the taste of bourbon. He remembered the way you swallowed the bitter whiskey quietly, paying no heed to the sexist jokes of the host, although he could tell they were getting on your bad side by the way your hand tightened around the crystal of poison. Oh, yes he remembered. He remembered the way you lashed out on the host, not being able to take the male chauvinism and the general approach of men sitting in the room objectifying women and how you had openly criticized the host and his ideologies, not shying away from calling him names that some people would definitely be talking about later. You dragged his ass right through his own party because that’s how you kept your environment neat. You weeded out the negativity. 


He remembered when he had followed you right out, not caring a dime about how that would look to people, and run after you to find you waiting for a taxi with your arms crossed across your chest in anger. He had somehow mustered up the courage to ask you to stay a little longer and you had agreed upon the condition that it would not be that party. So together you had gone to the café that was right across the street, the words BEER CAFÉ splintered across the front. It started with an acceptable beer and respectable introductions, your conversation but soon it turned into tequilas and guffaws and before he could blink, the night grew into day. At that moment, he had decided. He knew that he just had to get to know you more. 


So he did. 


One date turned into many, and many dates turned into a relationship. It was a quick decision, thoughtless and one he didn’t doubt, moving close to each other. 

The beer café became a sacred place; one you would visit every weekend. He would come over at your place and stay the nights more often than not. On some days you would make love, on other days it would just be an old school but an extremely satisfying movie night in that ended in sweet promises and cuddles. He loved you, he cherished you and you did so much more for him. 


Suddenly, the movie skips time. 


It comes right to the moment when Seulgi suddenly visited his house with a picture of you sprawled across the bed, a man hovering over you and both parties quite obviously naked. The world slipped from right under his legs. This…this wasn’t true. You would never do that. Ever. But Seulgi stopped him, there were more. She emptied out her bag on his bed, with more pictures than he could count on his fingers of you in various situations, in various positions, with various men, and each time your face was twisted in pleasure. He knew those expressions. You would make them for him when he pressed sweet kisses on your neck making you moan breathlessly, when his hands explored every inch of your body, finding a new weak spot every time which he exploited shamelessly making you bite down on him. When his mouth trailed your neck down to your sweet core and he devoured you, setting your body on fire. 


When he fucked you. 


That’s how you looked and he knew that look. But it was not for him. 


His vision went white as a tear and then two fell down his cheeks. Suddenly, everything felt pointless. Him running after you, that decision to move closer, those kisses, those dates. Everything had suddenly lost meaning because you didn’t love him like he loved you. 


Time skips again. 


You message him, leave voicemails, and try to contact him after he broke up with you but he won’t answer. He can’t. He sits and listens to your voicemails, and his heart feels like it’s playing tug of war and ripping itself apart when you cry and cry, asking for just one chance. One meeting to make him believe you. But how could he? Those pictures, those motherfucking pictures, were driving him insane. He felt mad all the time, he felt contempt towards you- who had failed to love him, so the next when he met Seulgi and she confessed her love, he didn’’t think twice before kissing her hard their teeth clashing together. He knew he was fucking up. He didn’t like Seulgi. He didn’t feel like his entire existence was for this kiss, like he felt with you. It was passionless, emotionless and pointless. But he would do it. 


He would hurt you like you hurt him. 


Two weeks of trying and your voicemails stopped coming. You stopped ringing him. You stopped texting him. You stopped trying to convince him. He fell into a new routine. A lifeless, senseless routine that he doesn’t care about. He made a girlfriend that he didn’t love. But at least he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t give in to his feelings for you. 


Once again, time kicks him hard and throws him into a new cut.


The café. You sitting with Yoongi. That was all and he saw red. You had forgotten about him. You couldn’t care less that he was still breaking apart everyday, you couldn’t care that he would wipe his tears all night thinking of you. You simply didn’t care. So he walked up to you and vented out. He called you names, humiliated you and broke you apart just like you had done to him. Surely, this would help him sleep better? It would help him accept the reality of the situation, it would make him accept himself. 

But your eyes. Your eyes were unflinching as you took a hit from his words. Somewhere in his ball of fury, your gaze became fiercer, breaking through his powerful image and hitting him right in the heart. You weren’t lying. He knew it. But how could he believe. So even as you fainted, he let Yoongi take you. He wouldn’t take a step, not until he had confirmed the truth. 


Another leap in time.


You were true. Your words were true. Your intentions were true. Your love was true. And he took too long to realize that. He made too many mistakes before realizing that.  After reading the exchange between you and Seulgi, a hazy blanket of hate had been lifted from his eyes in the harshest way possible. And dare he say he deserved it. Why should you ever come back to him? What reason did he give you? He knew he had destroyed an intimate connection between the two of you by repeatedly mistrusting you and to top it all, he even dated the person who had cooked up this recipe of destruction. He knew it all too well. However, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to reconcile with you. Like a shameless brat, he still wanted everything to be okay. He wanted the dread and guilt in his heart to be replaced by the love he felt for you. He wanted the harsh blankets covering him in the night to be replaced by your soothing touch. He wanted to call you. He wanted to take you in his arms and beg for your forgiveness on his knees again and again. 


And he tried. 


He tried to call you. He tried to text you. He visited your apartment. He even called Yoongi in hopes of finding any information, but he had received a cold response. He went to your workplace and waited there for hours on end to catch a glimpse of you but you never came out. 


You never came out because you didn’t work there anymore. 


You had all but vanished. Your number was not in service anymore. You had shifted out of your apartment. You didn’t visit the Beer café anymore. You had disappeared. He didn’t give up though. He thought of contacting your colleagues but realized he didn’t know anyone’s cell number. The revelation hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water. How could he not know anything about your colleagues? What if something happened to you at work and he couldn’t get in touch with you? Who would he call? Was he even in the position to blame Seulgi for anything when he didn’t even know something as simple as this? 


Each time he came to this conclusion, it connected to the beginning and the movie began all over again. Sleep was a luxury that he could not afford. His conscience wouldn’t let him get away with what he had put you through. 


That’s why when the phone rang incessantly, he was double minded about answering it. However, he turned around and brought it to his ear without paying attention to the called ID. 


“Hello?” He answered, unintentionally letting his tiredness seep into his voice. 


“We need to talk.” 


A jolt of electricity passed down his spine and his tiredness completely abandoned him. He immediately sat up straight, his senses on edge. He clutched his phone tighter in his hands and brought it closer to his ear to the point that he was sure there were going to be imprints on his skin. 


“___? ___, I’m so sorry-“ He began but your voice cut him sternly. 


“Jungkook. Look, I just need to talk to you, okay? Just tell me this, can I meet you right now?” 


Jungkook replied faster than a hurricane’s wind. “Yes. Yes, of course. Where do you want to meet me?” 


“At your house, if you’re okay with that of course.” 


He knew that he should have expected it but he couldn’t stop the dull pain growing his chest at the unfamiliarity you were expressing. You were cold and distant, like you were a stranger to his house. Like you hadn’t come there as much as he’d come to your old apartment. 


“Yes…” His voice slightly cracked and he cringed at the sound. He took a deep breath and steadied his voice. “Of course, you are welcome here anytime. You know it.” He said. He knew he was pushing his luck, pretending like nothing so bad had happened that it would stop you from coming over but it was all he could do. He couldn’t fathom you feeling like a stranger in house. 


There were a few seconds of silence on your part before you curtly replied. “Alright. I’ll see you in 30 minutes.” You hung up.


Jungkook removed the phone from his ears to look at it and despite your cold response, he couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up on his face. He kept the phone on his bed and hurried to clean his house before you arrived because it looked like a mess and he was sure it smelled worse. Oh god, he had to take a bath too. 


As he hurriedly moved around his house, cleaning up the mess all he could of was your call. You had called him. That meant something right? This had to be a chance. 


What else could it be?



Jungkook was ready. Thirty minutes had already passed since you had hung up and his house was as neat as it could be. The bed sheets were neatly plastered on the bed with minimal creases. The glass door facing the city was spotless and glistening with the orbs of lights emitting from the skyscrapers.  The wine was ready in cabinet but he daren’t take it out yet. He didn’t want to seem too at ease with the situation, which he really wasn’t, but if it came to that, he was ready to please you with some of your favorite wine. Double-checking everything for the 20th time, he nervously looked at the clock. 9:30 pm. You should be here anytime. 

As if it was a rehearsed play, his doorbell came to life. His heart almost leapt right out of his chest but he steadied himself speed walked to his front door, opening it with more haste than he intended, to find you standing in a black dress and a thin overcoat clearly not meant for the kind of chilly winds gracing the city from past few nights. You were paler than he remembered and slightly thinner.  You were frowning, and your lips were in pursed in a tight line. You cleared your throat, clearly unnerved by his shameless ogling but he couldn’t help himself, you looked as beautiful as the first day he had seen you. Just as ethereal. 


“May I come in?” You finally spoke up. 



The formality in your words cut through his heart like a knife. He swallowed, forced a smile on his face and that the feeling in his heart, the feeling that everything was going to go wrong was untrue. 

He took a deep breath and brightened the smile on his face. 


“Yes. Please come in.” 



To be continued…


Much love,

Inferno-loop

kookminsbf  asked:

SAJEONNNNNNNNNN

Anon: HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT JUNGKOOK’S 3 MINUTES LONG VIDEO

Anon: sajeon-nim i hope you’re doing fine after watching that golden closet film in tokyo💕

I’ve been busy with some freelancer work today, was a bit behind on fandom stuff until I saw Korean fans freaking out. I went in not knowing what to expect and I think, more than anything, I was emotionally caught off guard. I know that I joked about “knowing better” than to expect anything from Jungkook, but I was wrong. It was like a punch to the gut. I was awestruck. And just…

First thoughts? This is a labor of love. The production in this is amazing; every individual frame is beautiful. The details, down to the choice in song, are stunning. And in the center of it is Jimin.

Another Korean fan said this (and I’m sure it’s obvious to everybody), but I want to repeat it. KM may have the same theme in both their videos, but the key difference is their focus. Jimin’s focus was “us.” Jungkook’s focus was “you.”

And I think that was what was why it was so emotionally charged. You can feel Jungkook’s love for Jimin. This entire video is through his eyes, and at the end of each important shot was what - or who - mattered the most. This trip wasn’t just to see the sights and have fun. It was about spending precious time with a loved one. And Jimin is so loved.

casablancamarina said: Share with us how km shipper there holding up. Its been rollercoaster week for us ji/kookies ❤️                  

Nobody is sleeping. It’s a mess in Korea right now. Group hugs and tears all around.

Anon: sajeon-nim are you officially down            

I’m throwing in the towel, anon. It was a good fight.                 

The Secret Book Club

Originally posted by lokihiddleston

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Content/Warnings: Innuendos and a cheeky Loki and a very very shitty book. Also mild swears.

Words: 1767

Prompt: LOKI X READER WHO SHARE BOOKS AND READ TO EACHOTHER AND LOTS OF FLUFF HHH THAT WOULD BE SO CUTE PLEASE

Soooo this turned out much different than what I expected, (sorry anon I was having too much fun) but there is most definitely going to be a part 2 to this coming soon. At the request of a few people I’m starting a tag list, so if you want in then just shoot me a message! :)

Enjoy ;)

@mrsethedreamqueen@asometimestroubledmind

Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five
Part six
Part seven (NSFW)

Keep reading

Thor: Ragnarok Impressions

I really liked Thor: Ragnarok. I’ll put my cards on the table: I am probably going to like movies in this shared Marvel universe more than the average bear. It seems that the more pissed I get at Marvel as a whole (a long story), the better their movies get. 2017 dropped three of my favorites, as well as a non-MCU bonus in the form of Logan. I’m a happy nerd.

I also don’t really want to go over the high points again. Every nerd and critic has already done that. So instead, I decided to share a handful of entirely personal thoughts I had about the movie during and after. Here goes.

Chris Hemsworth did not just become funny
Inexplicably, I’ve heard a lot of chatter that Thor is finally funny in Ragnarok. I’m wondering where these people have been for the rest of the films, or for Chris Hemsworth’s career. Thor has been the most comedically versatile regular character in the MCU for a while. Yes, more so than Iron Man, who rarely veers from his arrogant-playboy routine, and more so than Cap, who relies on his man-out-of-time shtick for laughs. He’s even funnier than any of the Guardians. All of those characters are entertaining and play off each other well, but Hemsworth can do it all himself. He’s able to simultaneously make Thor a lovable lug and poke fun at his tough guy image. It isn’t that he becomes funny in Ragnarok, it’s that Taika Waititi takes off the cuffs and allows him free rein.

Did they just actually move Loki’s character forward?
NOTE: HUGE SPOILERS IN THIS SECTION
Tom Hiddleston has always been a gift to the MCU. For one thing, no two actors in the franchise play off each other as well as Hemsworth and Hiddleston. For another, he somehow makes the “Snake” character work. Most of the time, when someone continually changes sides (Miles Teller in the Divergent series, for instance), you wonder why the other characters don’t just off them and get it over with. By comparison, Marvel has done an excellent job over multiple directors of maintaining Loki’s character and relationship to Thor in ways that let us see why the God of Thunder keeps the God of Mischief around.
In this particular movie, Loki is literally given the task of destroying Asgard to stop Hela, and seems to have mended his relationship with his brother. But…did he take the Cosmic Cube at the end? Of course he did. Not only can I see no other way he could have gotten onto the ship to escape, but it actually makes sense. Otherwise, the Infinity Stone inside would have been left adrift at the site where the world it was known to be on just exploded, for anyone to amble along and pick up. That may not be Loki’s motivation, but Thanos did promise to hunt him down if he didn’t bring him the Cube. And according to descriptions of the unreleased Infinity War trailer shown at Disney’s D23 event, one scene pictures a kneeling Loki…handing Thanos the cube.
If you think Loki’s constant betrayals are getting old, there’s another wrinkle: perhaps he agreed to serve Thanos again in order to spare the survivors of Asgard.

The movie definitely delivered on the title
Going in, I did not expect the film would follow the comics, in which, last I read, Ragnarok really happened and Asgard as we knew it was destroyed. In fact, the movie followed that pretty closely, with the exception of Loki not being the one to initiate the apocalypse. Asgard is gone, and Thor is getting ready to re-home his people on earth, similar to the comics Thor. This seems like a pretty bold move for the movies, but really, the Thor series and character were too tethered to Asgard, in many ways. Ragnarok was obviously meant as a clear break with the dour and serious tone of the previous Thor movies, and severing the character’s ties to Asgard was a necessary step. Also, I know critics aren’t supposed to like final battles, but that one was pretty epic. I don’t recall a giant green monster fighting Fenrir in the original myths.

Throwing the cast together really works
There’s not much to elaborate on here. Tessa Thompson kicks major ass and is mercifully not set up much as a love interest. Loki and Thor work as well as they always do. The Hulk and Banner fit surprisingly well, with Mark Ruffalo playing off the proceeding as himself as well as he does when he’s CGi-ed up. Karl Urban seems to have had a lot of scenes cut behind those meaningful looks, but his role works fairly well. Idris Elba’s Heimdall finally gets more to do than stand there looking serious, and it’s about damn time. Several movies could easily be made out of this group. Even Benedict Cumberbatch’s brief appearance as Doctor Strange is fun. The only letdown is no appearance by Jamie Alexander’s Sif. It would have been great to see her and Valkyrie get into a drunken arm-wrestling match. I also need to mention that Thompson’s inclusion pisses off racists, which is awesome.

Marvel’s villains keep improving
I’ve never been on the all-Marvel’s-villains-suck bandwagon, but there’s no question 2017 has seen their best ones yet. The Vulture from Spider-Man still takes the prize, but Cate Blanchett’s Hela is deliciously dark, and Jeff Goldblum’s deliciously devious Grandmaster is a treat. It’s honestly hard for me to see how Thanos could top any of 2017’s baddies.

Taika Waititi!
He can do no wrong. Everybody run out and see Hunt for the Wilderpeople and What We Do in the Shadows, right now. I wouldn’t whine if they had him back for the next film.

Harry laughed happily as he landed on the grass. Draco was only seconds behind him clutching the snitch with a massive grin on his face.
“Good one, Draco.”
“Oh, it wasn’t really a good one. Pretty easy actually.” Draco drawled with a smirk.
Harry laughed again as he shoved Draco’s shoulder. “Whatever, that dive was pretty amazing.” Draco’s smirk became a proud smile. “Come on, let’s go eat something. I’m starving!” Harry said.
The smile morphed into a frown. “No. We each won one, it’s a draw. We have to play another.”
Harry grinned at him. “Let’s leave it a draw.”
Draco arched a brow. “Scared Potter?”
Laughing, Harry slung an arm around his friends shoulders. “Yes, scared you’ll pout and ignore me all day when I beat you.”
Draco sniffed. “First of all, I am not so petty. And who says you’d win anyway? So arrogant, Harry.”
Harry laughed and squeezed his friend in a hug. “Yeah. I’m the arrogant here, Draco.”
Draco gently bumped the side of his head against Harry’s as they walked to the castle. “So long as you know.”

On the following Sunday they found themselves trudging through a mountain of homework, much to Harry’s displeasure. Ron and Hermione had gone for a picnic on the grounds, since Hermione always made sure they were up to date on their work. Sighing Harry dropped his head heavily against the couch. Draco, who was curled up in the corner of the couch next to him, looked up with an arched brow. “Giving up already?”
Harry groaned and closed his eyes. “Yes.” He jerked up when he felt Draco flick him between the eyes. “Hey!” He protested, rubbing the sore spot with his fingers.
“You’d better keep going. Don’t think that you can leave it and get me to help you just because Granger won’t let you fly until it’s done.” He went back to looking at his book.
Harry turned to him with wide eyes. “That is a fantastic idea.” When Draco just let out a soft laugh but otherwise ignored him, Harry moved so he could lie leaning comfortably against Draco’s side. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh.
“Potter!” Draco groaned. “I am absolutely not doing your work for you.” But he didn’t move or shove Harry off, which Harry knew he wouldn’t. After several blissful minutes, right when Harry was sure he was on the cusp of a wonderful dream, he fell to the floor as Draco stood up. He pointed a finger accusingly at Harry, “Do some work, Harry. Or we will go to the library.”
Sighing in defeat, Harry sat up and faced his books once more.

Hours later they were sitting in front of the crackling fire eating Bertie Botts beans. Draco was sprawled across a single seat with his legs hanging across the side while Harry sat on the floor with his legs crossed and back against Draco’s seat. Draco had the box of beans and alternated between taking one and lowering the box for Harry.
Ron and Hermione entered the common room with cheerful greetings. Harry appreciated everyone’s efforts to get along, since he knew it was only for his sake, but he did wish his three best friends were more than just polite to one another.
“Did you have a good picnic?” Draco asked them.
“Oh, yes it was lovely thanks.” Hermione smiled at him. Ron nodded a bit awkwardly at him.
“Oh, Harry. You’ll never guess what.” Ron started, and Hermione shot him a suspicious look. “We saw Terry there, he was in the middle of a big fight, seems like him and his boyfriend broke up.” Hermione’s look of suspicion became one of horror as she tugged on Ron’s hand. Harry’s stomach dropped as he willed Ron not to continue. But he did. “So he’s single now, and you can finally ask him out. I know you used to have a massive crush on him.”
Harry closed his eyes, but the thick silence wouldn’t be ignored. He was so glad he couldn’t see Draco’s expression at that moment. There had been a hundred moments when he meant to come out to Draco. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or anything. It was just that he really enjoyed their friendship. He didn’t know how they’d become so
comfortable touching each other all the time, but he was scared that it would change if Draco knew. He opened his eyes to find Ron looking from him to Hermione with confusion brewing in his eyes. Hermione was watching Draco carefully, which could only mean that he most definitely wasn’t looking at them.
Harry sighed internally. He cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks.”
Hermione looked at him pitifully and quickly started talking about their day, filling the silence as best she could. She asked about how their studies went, Harry responded and Draco said a word or two.
After suffering through it as long as he could, Harry wished everyone good night. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Draco as he left, but let his hand trail along his shoulder as he walked passed.

The next morning, Harry lingered in bed. If he could, he’d avoid seeing Draco all day. Unfortunately, his last class was potions where they were partners. At breakfast he managed to get away with only a smile and a wave since Draco sat at the Slytherin table still. Harry tried hard to focus on his lessons all day, but he couldn’t deny he was nervous to see him.
When he arrived in potions at the end of the day, Draco was already there with all the ingredients for the days potion. He was chopping furiously when Harry reached him. “Hi, Draco.” He said nervously, fidgeting with the strap on his bag.
“Hi, Potter.” Draco glanced up with a small smile. After a few seconds he rolled his eyes. “Are you going to help or do you expect me to do all the work?”
Harry could have laughed with relief, but he didn’t. He gave Draco a grateful smile which was returned with a small quirk of the lips and they got to work.
The rest of the lesson passed in the same manner as the ones before. After, they walked together to dinner and Harry felt relieved. Until he couldn’t find Draco anywhere after dinner. He went to bed with a sinking feeling.

The week passed in the same pattern. The only time that Harry really saw Draco was during potions, his behavior seemingly unchanged. But Harry missed him. After potions on Friday Harry had had enough. As they walked together to dinner he blurted out. “Where have you been all week?” Grey eyes glanced up from the floor to meet his before flickering away. “I can never find you after dinner.” He said accusingly.
Draco answered softly. “I’ve had detention every day.”
“What?” Harry asked, reaching out to grab Draco’s arm. “For what?”
Turning to face Harry, Draco sighed. “You know how it is, some teachers will make up reasons to punish me.”
Harry frowned and opened his mouth to express his outrage when Draco gave him a defeated smile. “It doesn’t matter. Okay?”
Harry deflated. Draco twitched his arm awkwardly and Harry realized he was still holding him. He let go quickly but noticed the blush on Draco’s cheeks.
He deflated a little more.

On Saturday morning when Harry returned from breakfast he found Draco in the common room with his homework. After fetching his own, he sank down on the couch next to him.
Draco shifted to make more room for him.
After working for a little while Draco got up to get a different textbook and settled down again on the single couch. Harry frowned. He wouldn’t have thought anything about it before, but..
He sighed heavily and tried to focus on his work.

The next day he found himself working alone in the library. When he returned to the common room he found Draco curled up on the single couch with a book. He looked up when Harry entered and frowned slightly. “Where were you today?” He asked.
Harry shrugged, struggling to meet his eyes. “Thought I’d concentrate better in the library.” He moved to walk past where Draco was sitting, when Draco’s hand shot out as if to grab his hand but stopped suddenly, quivered in the air for a moment before disappearing just as fast.
Harry hesitated briefly. With a disappointed sigh he carried on walking.
“Harry.” Draco said.
Harry half turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. Draco cleared his throat. “Would you like to go fly for a bit?” Harry frowned skeptically, unsure of what how he wanted to respond. “There’s enough time for at least one game to end our draw before the light goes.” Draco said, smiling uncertainly. And that’s what got to Harry.
“Yeah, alright.” He answered finally.

The walk to the quidditch pitch was filled with awkward silence. At least it was for Harry. Once they were flying though, Harry felt better.
The light started to go quickly and Harry was scanning rather desperately for the snitch, it was the one he had caught in first year and he was rather sentimental about it. A glint of gold caught his eye and he dove toward it. As he neared it he saw Draco coming in from a different angle, slightly ahead of him. He pushed forward, urging his broom to go faster. At the last moment, he realized Draco would get there first and Harry would barrel into him soon after. Unfortunately, the last moment didn’t give him enough time to stop or change direction. All he could do was slow down to soften the impact.
Thankfully they were low to the ground so when they tumbled over one another and onto the grass, it wasn’t too hard a fall. They rolled and Harry landed half on Draco’s chest with a massive groan. Draco was gasping heavily. Harry lifted himself to quickly pat Draco down for injuries and once he was satisfied that he was fine he fell half onto Draco’s chest again. They caught their breath in silence.
It was the happiest Harry had been all week. Until Draco said, “Two one, Potter.” Harry looked up to see Draco clutching the snitch with a triumphant grin. He laughed and pushed himself up onto an elbow.
“You can’t tell me this one was an easy win.” Harry teased.
“No, I can’t.” Draco chuckled and smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back, happy to have his friend back. He noticed the pink tinge on Draco’s cheeks as Draco’s eyes flickered away and he shifted awkwardly. Harry sat up quickly and Draco scooted away from Harry. His heart sank.
Draco cleared his throat, “Well, let’s go back.” He stood up and retrieved his broom. Harry sat there with his knees bent and his elbows resting on his knees, drowning in unhappiness. He wasn’t going to get his easy friendship back. Draco had walked a few paces back toward the castle when he turned around. “Harry?” He said tentatively.
Harry sighed. “I can’t do this, Draco.” He shoved his hands in his hair and looked away, frustrated.
Draco frowned and came back. “What do you mean?” He asked softly.
“I mean I want you to just freak out about the fact that I didn’t tell you and be honest if you have a problem with who I am. I can’t take this dancing around it. I miss you.” He bit his lip to stop himself. After a long pause he looked up to find Draco staring at him in shock.
“You think I have a problem with who you are?” He asked quietly, which set warning bells off in Harry’s head. “You think I’ve been acting strange because I don’t accept this part of you.” He added. Then he laughed, a self deprecating sound that Harry knew well. Draco lifted a hand to his forehead. “Why wouldn’t you? It’s the obvious conclusion.” He laughed again, a little hysterically this time, which broke Harry out of his daze. He stood up and slowly approached him.
“Well, if it’s not that then what is it?” He asked.
Draco closed his eyes briefly before meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry watched a flush creep up his neck as he seemed to search for words. “Well, I couldn’t exactly be mad at you for not telling me when I’ve been keeping the exact same secret.” His cheeks were a deep pink now. Harry’s ears were ringing.
“What?” He whispered, disbelieving.
Draco gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” Harry could only stare at him. Draco swallowed nervously. “Anyway, I was trying to find the right time to tell you about me. But, as you know, it’s not easy.” He laughed awkwardly again. “And somehow knowing about you made my little crush seem less impossible which is stupid, really I know, so I was just giving myself a bit of space to dispel that illusion. That’s why I got detention everyday. I couldn’t focus, I was useless in class.” His gaze was flickering from Harry’s shoulder, his collar to his throat. Anywhere but his eyes. After a fortifying breath Draco added. “Our friendship is important to me. I didn’t want to mess it up.”
Harry was confused. He was shocked. But he knew that that made him happy. He pulled Draco towards him and wrapped him in a tight hug. “I missed you, you idiot.”
Draco melted into the hug which made Harry’s heart soar. They stood like that for a long time. Eventually Draco pulled back, much to Harry’s regret. Harry searched his gaze. “It’s not impossible, you know. Or an illusion.” He whispered.
Draco’s breath caught. Harry smiled at him. “I don’t think.” Harry amended. But as he watched the moonlight play over Draco’s features he thought it was probably extremely possible. Probable in fact.
Draco watched Harry watch him for the longest time. His look of shock slowly abated until Harry was staring at Draco’s trademark smirk. “You’d better not think that counts as asking me out, because my standards are considerably higher than that.” Harry laughed and Draco smiled before adding, “I’m serious.” With that he turned and started toward the castle. Harry scrambled to catch up.
“I’ll write a poem.” He said.
Draco groaned. “Please don’t. I’m pretty set on saying yes. Don’t make that hard for me to do.”
Harry grinned. Feeling bold, he reached out to grab Draco’s hand as they walked forward. He let out a content sigh when Draco laced their fingers together.

Red Herrings, News Reports, and Memes: The Purpose of the Jim Twins in the Overall Narrative

Originally posted by halewalker

Out of all the things that I’ve been wondering about in the overall Who Killed Markiplier continuity, the Jim twins were the biggest things on my radar.  Nothing about what they were doing made any sense in relation to the overall mystery.  Initially, I was assuming that they were to serve as opposite to our PoV, allowing them to wander around places that the episode didn’t show us in order to give us more clues toward the killer.  They seemed to do that fine during the first two chapters, where they were able to get a good look at the crime scene and show us just how close the detective Benjamin was to his former partners…in both sense of the word.

Originally posted by spacemarkimoo

But come the third and fourth Jim-casts, and…they’re really just joke casts.  One big lead up to a subscriber joke, and mumbling nonsense about how Jim thinks the murder occurred.  No contribution to the overall statement.  Isn’t that weird, especially when the original cast had enough jokes to hold itself!

…wait a minute.

How many jokes were in each chapter, really?

That’s when it hit me.  The very first episode threw us a red herring in terms of the chef, whom it tried to show off as the potential killer.  Everything seemed to be a red herring, huh?  But what if the Jims were red herrings as well?

What if they were atmospheric red herrings?

Couldn’t find a better term for it, sorry.

Up until this series, all of Markiplier’s skits would always end with a joke.  Each one, no fail.  All of his work with Cyndago ends with a joke.  Google IRL ends with a joke.  Five Nights at Freddy’s: The Interview ends with a joke.  A Date with Markiplier ends with a joke.  Hell, Darkiplier vs Antisepticeye (something we all thought could be serious) was just one big glorified shitpost.  We’ve been trained to think that everything Mark will do will just lead up to one big punchline.  So tell me that this wasn’t what you were thinking about the minute you saw the thumbnail.  “Oh boy, another skit.  Let’s see where this ends up.”

And hell yeah, the first episode feeds on that expectation.  We’re in a goddamn murder mystery noir thing, and the first joke we get is how they end up partying in the manor.  Come on, the first chapter even ends on a dick joke.

Were we not just assuming that this was going to lead up to something hilarious?  I remember seeing it everywhere.  “Oh, the murderer is Chica, isn’t it?!”  We were all expecting a punchline.

Until the jokes stopped coming.

Chapter Two had some jokes sprinkled in it, but it didn’t end on one.  Chapter Three had two, max, and Chapter Four?  None at all.  It actually kept to its serious tone all the way to the end.  Forget the fact that this was an origin story, THAT was the big twist ending that no one was expecting.  How in the world did we buy this?  How did no one realize that this was going to be a series that is going to keep itself straight?

Enter the Jims.

Originally posted by theowlandthefinch

They are the ones that are going to be heavily memed to hell and back.  They are the ones making the funny jokes, with the weird walks and the endless Jims and whatever else they decide to make them do.  Sure, they’re not part of the main story, but they’re still there for people to go and watch.  Hell, the hashtag is now swarmed with Jim memes for levity.

And this is how Mark fools us into thinking that this series is something it’s not.

Sure, those of us who only watch the main series will probably not be surprised by how dark the ending gets, but for those of us who did watch these, we were all probably thinking that this was all going to lead to a big joke.  Wouldn’t it be funny if Markiplier actually died because one of the Jims did something stupid or something?  Besides, if we watched the Jimcasts after we watched the main chapters, then they really did end on jokes.  The theme of the Markiplier skit has been maintained.  Since the Jims are waddling around in an otherwise serious environment, the whole thing has to end on a joke, right?

And then the twist comes in.  There will not be a joke at the end of this train.  Everything is being played 100% seriously.

Originally posted by markired

I’m just in love with this GIF, my god.

What started out with the death of one man ended up being the shattering of a closely knit group of friends that can never be fixed.  One goes insane, while the other becomes hellbent on revenge.  There is no joke here.  There’s nothing the Jims can do to alleviate the situation.

And what better way to show this meta change, to show that this is something that must be taken 100% seriously, that there will be no laughs coming from this manor, 

than to end it on the wanderings of a man searching desperately for a punchline?

Hey what if instead of writing Lance as the only omega in the pack of alphas he’s the only alpha in a pack of omegas? 

Like, before Voltron, Lance was the leader of his own little pack. 

-

Lance met Hunk in school. They still shared a room, which was a surprised and a confusion. People thought Hunk was an alpha thanks to his size, so his papers were wrong and he was assigned to Lance. 

It was quite a shock for both of them. Hunk was clearly uncomfortable and Lance didn’t know what to do to help the omega relax. It was problem, because all the rooms were full and they couldn’t reassigned them. 

The first few days were… Something. Omegas were cruel to Hunk because he wasn’t as cute of delicate as them, and alphas often told Lance how lucky he was for having an omega there to fuck. 

Of course, Hunk recived the worst of it and Lance started feeling guilty. Hunk seemed like a really cool guy, and didn’t deserve to go through this. So, he went agaisnt the alphas that were talking shit agaisnt them and after that he talked with the omegas who were taunting Hunk. 

Things got so much better after that and after hearing from someone else what Lance had done for him, Hunk stoped avoiding him and started speding more time with him. 

They became the best of friends and it was perfect. Then they became closer and started sharing a bed. They didn’t realise then, because it was just the two of them… But they were acting like a pack. The often scented each other and felt the need to protect Hunk from everyone. 

Then Pidge arrived to the Garrison. There was something about her that Lance hated it. It was her beta smell, it was… Off. But Hunk had a soft spot for her, for some reason. And if Hunk trusted Pidge, then Lance could. They befriend her, since nobody else did. Pidge was kind to Hunk, and Lance appreciated that.

Hunk adored Pidge and those two became best friends. Lance was ok with, he was happy that Hunk had more friends. Pidge could understand the things that Hunk loved, and it was perfect. 

Slowly, Lance opened to her, and without realising she was part of his little pack and protected from everyone else like he did with Hunk. 

It was clear for everyone in the Garrison that they were pack, even when Pidge wasn’t aware of it. 

Still, Pidge had a mission. And she couldn’t let them distract her from it. She often reject them and tried to be on her own. She hurt Hunk and Lance with this, but they never complained about it. Hunk thought she was busy and Lance gave her space she wanted. 

Voltron happened time after that. They followed Pidge to the roofs because Lance was worried and curious. One thing lead to another and suddenly, they were running away from the Garrison in Keith’s bike, and omega Lance used to have a rivalry with and Shiro, an amazing alpha Lance admired and thought dead. 

They ended up in a shack in the middle of the desert talking about ‘Voltron’ and the next thing Lance knows he’s flying a Blue Lion and aliens are real and they are now paladins, protectors of the universe. 

It’s to much to swallow, but Lance is willing to stand up and fight for what’s right. 

The three of them, Lance, Pidge and Hunk, keep acting like a pack. Shiro and Keith are like a different pack even when Lance makes his best efforts to include them (even if that means stop being the leader of his pack and giving the leadership to Shiro, who has a bigger rank than him) they don’t seem to comfortable with them. 

Allura are Coran are easy. They don’t have dynamics, so they spend time with both packs. But it isn’t an ideal situation, really. Lance can feel his alpha side wanting to fight for power and territory, even when the only thing he wants is to everyone to get along. 

Things change when Pidge tells everyone about her real dynamic and to be honest, Lance is surprised but at the same time it isn’t. Everything makes sense to him now, and to prove Pidge he’s not mad at her for hiding the truth from him, he scents her for real this time. He kisses and nibbles her neck. He gets a wiff of her real scent under the beta-fake one. It’s like vanilla, and Lance loves it. 

Pidge melts in his arms and purss happily. Then Shiro clears his throat and speaks, telling everyone the truth about his dynamic and revealing that him, just like Pidge, is an omega. 

That was something Lance was not expecting. Shiro, the perfect Prime Alpha that everyone talked about. An omega. Amazing, really. They were all waiting for Lance’s reaction. Shiro was cleary tense, and Keith looked ready to attack. Hunk and Pidge were grabbing Lance from both sides, wary. 

“So, you are an omega…”

“Yes.”

“And you fooled the whole Garrison into believing you were alpha prime.”

“…Yes.” 

“Dude… That’s gold!!” Everyone jumps and looks at Lance in disbelief. He looked genuinely happy and curious about Shiro’s dynamic. The older omega relaxed and smiled, things didn’t go as wrong as he thought. “Wait… This means… Both of you are on supressants?”

Suddenly, there was silence again. Everyone was looking at both omegas with worried and Lance’s expression was one of anger. 

“Well, I used to be… When I was on Earth. But my omega scent hasn’t return, so I guess the Galra gave me something.”

“What about you, Pidge?”

“Well–”

“Taking something that covers your scent is one thing, but blocking your dynamic? Do you know how dangerous supresants are?!” 

Pidge whined and Shiro looked ashamed. Lance sighed. 

“I want both of you to go to Coran and ask him to check on you hormone levels and give you something to counter the supresants effects.”

After that things on the ship got so much better. Without Shiro and Pidge pretending to be something they weren’t, they found a new balance in the team. 

Lance started spending more time with Shiro. His omegas new Lance was only trying to make him feel comfortable around him and like that, to invite him little by little to his pack. Shiro was a bit obvlious to Lance’s intentions to be honest, but let the alpha be with him. 

Lance was different. He was loud and confident like most alphas, but he was caring and sweet to his omegas. He took care of Hunk and Pidge and never tried to use his alpha voice to force them do things they didnt want to and tried to take over the position as the head of Voltron. 

Shiro got closer to Lance without realising. He found himself one day wanting to invite the alpha to his nest. Of course, he felt embarrased to only think about it and instead of talking about it with Lance he stole one the alphas t-shirts and sleep with it. 

Of course, Lance finds about this and it only warms his heart when he finds Shiro in the couch sleeping with shirt. When Shiro wakes up, the alpha is sitting besides him playing with his hair. The omega blushes like crazy and tries to explain everything to Lance but he only chuckles and tells him there’s nothing to worry about. 

It’s a matter of days after that he scents Shiro and becomes an official part of his pack. 

Keith was more… Difficult to approach. The reason Lance went for Shiro frist, was because he thought if Shiro joined, Keith would follow easily.

… He was wrong. 

He was stubborn, and when Shiro joined Lance he only felt left behind. It took a lot of effort from Lance to make him understand he wasn’t trying to take Shiro away from him or something like that. 

Lance didn’t know how to deal with Keith, to be honest. The omega was something else, really. He liked to to fight, and didn’t give a fuck about Lance’s position he was ready to fight him in any moment. 

Lance wasn’t sure if he liked it or hated it. 

Keith avoided Lance, and even growled at him everytime he tried getting close. Lance was frustrated, all of his omegas could see how much it was hurting the alpha not to be able to reach Keith. 

It seems like an impossible tasks, but before Lance can give up, a mission go wrong. 

They were inside of a Galra ship. Everything was going smoothly when an alarms started ringing. They were caught and had to go to their lions quickly before the reinforcements arrived. 

Before Lance could reach his lions, all of them heard a horrible scream through the halls.

An omega.

His omega.

Keith.

Lance ran and ignored everyone. If Keith was scared enough to let out an omega cry, it means whatever thing he is happening is bad. Really bad. 

When he gets there he finds a big Galra over Keith, doing— Terrible things. Lance goes feral and gets rid of the Galra that’s hurting Keith. The omega is crying and a whimpering mess, and the alpha in his wild state of mind only manages to carry him to his lion and let Blue fly them to the castle. 

It takes a while for both of them to leave the Blue Lion. Keith clinged to Lance trying to feel safe and the alpha kissed and licked his scent glands until the only thing he could smell was himself on Keith. 

They went to the pods after that, since Lance was also badly hurt from the fight. When the pod opened, Keith hugged him and thanked him for everything. 

He didn’t need to say anything, Keith was part of them now. 

fictionandmusic  asked:

wow your writing in the gods and monsters series is amazing! i've always loved greek myths and you bring them to life and add a different twist that makes it better than anything i've ever read about mythology!! if you have time, could you do a continuation of the Hades and Kore story? Kore/Persephone is one of my fav goddesses and i can't wait to see where you take her story!

(continuation of: x, x)

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she is reckless and stubborn and feels like she has so little left to lose, only an overbearing mother she yearns to escape.

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she fights and swims and survives. She is picked up on the shore and carried to safety in Hades’s arms.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she is reckless and stubborn and feels like she has everything to lose. She lets the water take her, and she drowns.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, it kills her.

~

Kore wakes up after falling unconscious while being carried by the King of the Underworld. Her skin is fully healed, no longer blistering and burning. She’s naked under the soft blankets, but she was naked when she dove into the river, so she’s not too worried about it.

“I didn’t know you were a goddess,” someone says, and she turns her head to see a little girl sitting by her bedside with black skin and grey eyes and hair. She’s glaring at her, “I wouldn’t have tried to kill you if I’d known. You shouldn’t touch my water – it’s not good for you. It will kill you. It does not care what you are.”

“It did not kill Achilles,” Kore says, pushing herself up so the blanket falls to her waist.

The young Lady Styx huffs and gets to her feet, pushing open the long wardrobe on the other side of the room. “It did, actually. What my river takes, it keeps.” Kore raises an eyebrow. Styx doesn’t explain further, only places a dark blue gown on the bed. “Hecate put some of her old things in here for you. She’s taller and thinner than you are. But you are a goddess. You can make it work.”

“I can,” Kore agrees, amused. She pushes herself out of bed, and her hair falls into her face.

Her hair has been a dark brown her whole life.

She strides over to the wardrobe and pulls it open, starring at herself in the mirror.

Her hair has turned pure, snowy white. The hair on her head of course, but the rest of it too. Her eyebrows, the light hair on her arms and legs, going down her navel, the hair between her legs – all of it white.

“You’re lucky nothing worse happened,” Styx scolds. “My river usually does much worse than that.”

Kore touches one of her new, pale eyebrows. “That is an excellent point, Lady Styx.”

With some clever magic, Kore pulls on the now perfectly fitting gown. Hecate doesn’t tend to bother with them, only dresses up if there’s some sort of celebration that requires her attendance – something that hasn’t happened in a long time, ever since she irritated Zeus and Poseidon to the point that they called for her head on a spike. The gown is old, even by their standards, but its beautifully crafted, stars plucked from the heavens and sewn into the bodice, waves from the seven seas curling around the long skirt. “This is very valuable,” she says, “Is Hecate sure she would like me to have it?”

Styx shrugs, “She said it was a young woman’s dress, and however she may look, she’s not a young woman any more. It’s my favorite dress of hers – I was quite cross that she gave it to you, but I did almost kill you. So I suppose that’s fair enough.”

“Ah,” Kore says, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I see.”

Styx grins at her and grabs her hand. The child goddess’s skin is freezing to the touch, but Kore doesn’t flinch back out of fear of being rude. “Come with me now. Hades wants to see you.”

The girl leads her through the twisting hallways to a polished wooden door. It’s not the throne room, where Kore thought that the girl would take her. She’s seen the grand inner chambers of Poseidon and Zeus’s homes before, of the lesser gods even, and Kore braces herself for something just as grandiose and intimidating.

Styx opens the door and pushes her inside before vanishing.

Kore blinks and looks around.

The room is smaller than she expected. It’s lined with shelves packed with scrolls, and mounted on the opposite wall is large map that’s constantly shifting and changing, and it take her almost a full minute of looking at it to realize it’s a map of the underworld.

“You’re looking better.”

Kore’s eyes snap down, and it’s only then that she notices the figure of Hades, King of the Underworld, hunched over his desk. His hair pulled in messy low ponytail, and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s in a simple black chiffon, one no more presumptuous than any mortal noble would wear. He’s the most unassuming, unremarkable thing in already unassuming, unremarkable room.

Suddenly, she feels over-dressed.

“Thank you,” she says, not knowing what else to say. She feels – awkward, almost, in front of him, which isn’t something she’s ever felt with anyone. She wants to climb into his lap and rest her head against his shoulder. She wants to force him into some proper clothes for a king. She wants to put him to bed and make him sleep until he loses those bruises under his eyes.

She’s never wanted to do any of those things for anyone before. She doesn’t even know him.

Although – she knows he came for her. That he found an intruder into his realm and picked her up and soothed her, carried her to safety and washed her of the corrosive water of the Styx. He placed her in his palace and did not touch her as so many other men would have touched her.

So perhaps she does know him. At least a little.

He rests his chin on his hand while he looks at her. “Hermes came with a message from your mother, demanding your return.” She doesn’t even have the time to panic before he continues, “I denied her. If she wishes to speak to me in person, I told her she is welcome to step into my realm herself.”

“She won’t do that,” Kore says, “She fears your realm. She fears how her power means nothing in your domain.”

Kore had never known her mother to fear anything – except the land of the dead. She’d grown up thinking Hades must be a hulking, formidable figure to pull fear from her mother’s breast, but that’s clearly not the case.

He smiles, and it’s the first hint of sharpness she’s seen from him. “I know. There will be consequences, of course. But those are my concern. You are a guest of my realm, Goddess of Spring. Walk where you please, and do as you please. No one will stop you.”

He’s already looking back down at his papers, eyebrows drawing together as he scratches out a series of numbers and rewrites them. It’s a clear dismissal, but Kore can’t bring herself to move.

She’s never met this man before. Yet he stands against her mother, yet he welcomes her to his realm, yet he permits unrestricted access to his home, yet he grants her every freedom he’s able.

“Thank you,” she says again. He gives an absent nod, already reaching for another scroll.

She leaves as quietly as she came.

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