is kind of there even though you can't see her face

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.

~

He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.

~

When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.

~

Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.

~

Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.

~

Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.

~

Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.

~

Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.

~

For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.

~

Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.

~

Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.


gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

anonymous asked:

What would the guys do if they hear their crush say "me? who would like someone like me?" because they can't believe anyone would like them

Aw nonnie this is a sad/cute one. I hope this is alright! 

Noctis:

 - Noctis would be able to tell you were feeling a little glum, and when you had a few precious moments alone, he’d ask you what was wrong.
- You would try and brush it off at first, it’s not like you want to burden him with something like that…
- But this would just make the prince feel a bit useless, he’d really want you to confide in him. 
- You’d take a big sigh, and finally tell him. You feel lonely. You feel like a bit of a spare part. Everyone was settling down, even Noctis had his marriage to Luna. But you were just left on your own, as always.
- “Hey, don’t be so stupid.” 
- Stupid? This would anger you, you just confided in him like he asked and he calls you stupid?
- Noct would see how irate you were getting, and instantly feel bad.
- “Wait, that’s not what I meant!” And it honestly wasn’t. When will this boy learn to deal with his feelings and say the right thing?
- “Sorry that I’m bothering you with my stupidity Noctis.”
- “Look, that isn’t what I meant by it!”
- He panics that he’s really screwed this up.
- “Sure! I’m just whittling away for nothing!”
- “Well, yeah because-”
- “I should just get used to it.”
- “What?”
- “I mean, who would ever like me?”
- “I would!”
- There would be silence as you digest what Noctis had just said. 
- “You…? But what about Luna?”
- Okay, now his heart is racing.
- “We are friends, good friends, but this arranged marriage… It isn’t for me. Look, I’ve been trying to tell you… I, well, like you.” 
- His eyes sink to the floor and he plays with his arm band nervously. Now it’s calmed down he is self-conscious and can’t believe he just blurted that out…
- You’re stunned. Noctis… liked you? 
- He finally looks at you, unnerved by your silence
- Damn, have I really over stepped the mark this time?
- “Noct… you like me?”
- You can see little splashes of red colour his cheeks as he answers.
- “Y-yeah I do… is that okay?”

 Prompto:

- Prompto would be heading towards the tent one night, after you had disappeared for a while. He was starting to get worried as to where you were!
- As he gets closer to the tent, he can hear your voice… He doesn’t want to intrude if you were on the phone. Though, it didn’t seem like you were…
- He listens for a bit. He knows he shouldn’t, but he just can’t help it. There was just something in the tone of your voice that made him stay, a little twinge of something like… sadness?
- “I’m not like Cindy, or Aranea, I’m just…not.”
- They are definitely talking to themselves. He realised.
- And then you said it. 
- “But really… me? Who could ever like someone like me?”
- It’s almost like you could hear Prompto’s heart crack.
- No. No no no no.
- He recognises the pain in your voice, he understands the self-doubt, he knows it all too well.
- Before he could stop himself or even think about what he was doing, he’d push open the tent flap and take you in his arms.
- There are tears pooling in his own eyes.
- “You should never, never have to feel that way. Not you. Not someone like you.”
- It’s hard to hear him as his voice is muffled, his face buried in your neck. His grip is tight, and he can’t even think about how forward this might be because he just has to make sure you know you’re loved.
- “I like you, I like you, I like you.” He can’t say it enough.
- His words warm your heart.
- You both sit like that for a while, just holding each other until the tears stop. 
- He pulls away, and gently whispers; “It’s you. It has been for a while now. I really like you.”
- You can hardly believe your ears. 
- Still holding you, he looks you in your eyes still wet with tears, now smiling a little sheepishly.
- “So… what do you say?”

Gladiolus:

- Prompto would be chatting away about Cindy, as usual, and you would roll your eyes.
- “Tch, she’s pretty lucky.” 
- Gladio would hear your mumbling, and fall behind the other three to walk with you instead. 
- “Hey, what’s that?” He’d ask, friendly as always.
- “Well, it’s lucky Cindy has someone to feel that way about her.”
- Gladio would raise his eyebrows in surprise and a little in doubt as well.
- “I’m not so sure she sees it that way.”
- “I guess, but at least she knows she’s wanted.”
- By now the other three guys are just a blip in the distance, walking back to the regalia.
- “What do you mean by that?”
- “Well, just that I’d love to be in her shoes. It’s not like anyone will ever feel that way about me.”
- Did they really just say that?
- Suddenly his strong arm juts out in front of you, preventing you from walking any further.
- You look at Gladio in shock, to see that his jaw looks clenched and he looks kind of… angry.
- “Gladio…?”
- “Is that what you truly think?”
- You nod, unable to do more and he finally looks at you.
- “Then, you don’t realise how crazy I am about you.”
- Your heart skips a beat at his words.
- “H-huh?”
- He retracts his arm now, standing up to face you.
- “Why else do you think I always let you fall asleep on me in the car? Because I love the way you feel in my arms. Or when I always ask you for help setting up camp, it’s because I really enjoy your company.”
- He would stand in front of you now, the familiar smile you know and love back.
- “Honestly, these past few weeks you’ve been driving me crazy, and then you say no one would feel like that about you?”
- He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes.
- “Well, I’m telling you now, I do. You don’t have to like it, I’ll understand if you don’t and I’ll speak no more of it. I promise.”
- He tilts his head, fully smiling now at your astounded expression.
- “Well… are you alright with that?”

 Ignis:

- Ignis had noticed you’ve been seeming down lately, choosing to sit in the tent early or sitting in the back of the car in your own world.
- It really starts to concern him, he can’t fathom why you’re feeling this way.
- One night he brings you your food to the tent, seeing if you’re okay.
- You thank him a little despondently, so he sits down next to you and asks if you want to share what has been bothering you.
- Looking into those kind green eyes it’s hard not to start talking about what’s wrong. You knew Iggy was a great listener. 
- So you opened up a little to him.
- “I’ve been watching the others get closer to people lately, Prompto with Cindy, Noctis with Luna for example…”
- “What about it is bothering you?”
- “I don’t know. I guess it just sucks being on your own.”
- “Come now, you’ll meet someone who is just right for yourself.”
- He knows it’s true, even if it’s not with him. Though that thought hurts him more than he’d care to admit.
- You throw Iggy an incredulous look.
- “What? It’s true. You’ll find someone you really like.”
- Oh if only he knew.
- “That’s not the problem. The problem is them liking me. I mean, who the hell would fall for someone like me?”
- Suddenly Iggy’s eyes tighten, and he re-adjusts his glasses.
- He seems… annoyed?
- “Please, do not put yourself down like that. You’re a wonderful person.”
- Huuuuge eyeroll from you.
- “Uh huh, sure.”
- Here comes the generic ‘you’ll get there eventually’ chat.
- “I mean it.”
- “Really?”
- He’s persistent.
- “Yes, you’re funny, gorgeous, intelligent… anyone would be lucky to call you their partner.”
- Well… that you weren’t expecting.
- The fidgeting with his glasses is progressively getting worse, which is unlike Iggy.
- “Why are you saying all of this…?”
- “Because I…” He has to take a deep breath here!
- “I see you that way. And would definitely feel lucky to call you mine.”
- Your heart stops, you can’t believe what you just heard. And he’s looking up at you through those lovely long lashes, and you know he’s being serious.
- Oh my.
- “Iggy…?”
- “I’m sorry if this seems sudden, but please… I have to know how you feel about me.” His green eyes are gazing at yours.
- Oh my.

gold and silver ⋅ part 1

medieval + fantasy au (based on game of thrones)

◇ pairing: hoseok | reader
◇ genres: drama, light angst and romance 
◇ word count: 12.308
warnings: future depictions of violence, implied sexual content
author’s note: you can easily read this story without having any game of thrones’ knowledge. I mostly took the main settings of the tv show, but other than that, you can just consider this a medieval au. please enjoy! :)

⇢ chapters: one | two (ending)


You meet Jung Hoseok on a searing afternoon, round sun high in the sky and clouds as bright and golden as the weightless tunic that reaches down your legs.

You try not to show an obvious discontent when you hear the familiar, metallic sound of steel armor coming closer, a sigh getting stuck in your throat as you realize your days of hiding have finally come to an end. The residence of the king, otherwise known as the Red Keep, is large enough to get lost easily if you do not memorize the steps you leave behind, which sounded more exciting than it should have when you first arrived to the city one week ago, completely by yourself and miles away from family and friends.

You rapidly found concealed spots where curious eyes would not burn on your skin, and a particular favorite was located deep inside the Godswood of the castle — greenish, colorful gardens that extended towards the stunning sights of the Blackwater Rush, one of the major rivers of the country.

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the arcana masterlist

i’m dreadfully curious and hopelessly lost when it comes to the arcana’s twisting, complex plot, which we still don’t know much about, so i figured it’d be best to compile what i know about the characters and the plot intertwining them so far.

of course, different options / combos in the game reveal different things. as i haven’t gotten them all, and i’m forgetful af, there’ll be information missing. this is where you lovely people come in. feel free to message me stuff i’ve missed, or ask me for proof of something i’ve mentioned that you haven’t seen before! this way this masterlist will remain canonical and truthful.

just to be clear, there aren’t meant to be any assumptions or theories here; this post contains only what we know to be fact, whether it be confirmed in-game or by the devs on tumblr.

there are major spoilers abound under the cut, for future discoveries in the game even: read at your own discretion.

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Among The Beasts: Freedom

Reader x Kol Mikaelson

(NOT MY GIF)

synopsis: Klaus’ attempts to live up to his promise to you lead him to dark paths, but, in the end, he manages to lift the curse up, waking you up. 

A/N: I don’t know if I made it clear, but the Mikaelsons are quite fond to the reader. She is friends with all of them, but has a deeper conection with Kol. :)

Word Count: 2525

Part 1 - Part 2


“This is funny”, Klaus thought, a while later, as he stood in front of his mother’s lifeless body, holding her heart on his right hand. It was indeed amusing, because all of Esther’s worries revolved around what he would become if he possessed his Hybrid powers. What kind of evil the blond would turn out to be. Yet, she did not considered the fact she was the one to blame. She made him. She sentenced a poor boy to a painful childhood just to hide her mistake.

A bitter chuckle left his lips. Yes, killing her was an act of mercy, for the witch deserved way more than a quick death.

Keep reading

can you imagine Court players on cereal boxes like

  • kevin’s so stoked to join the ranks of wheaties athletes, he works out extra to get all buff for when the execs send his picture in to the cereal company, only for andrew to send him a photo a month later of neil holding up a box of lucky charms that has kevin standing with the leprechaun on the front of it
  • neil’s on the plain cheerios bc they asked what his favorite cereal was and he said “what’s cereal”
    • sales skyrocket
    • half those sales may or may not be matt
  • jeremy is on honey comb. jean insisted on a honey-flavored cereal bc jeremy is, like honey, naturally sweet. alvarez never lets this go and calls jeremy jean’s “honey bee” until they die
    • there is forever a box of honey comb cereal in the day-muldani household pantry. it’s never touched until the day kevin learns jean and jeremy are a couple and then he just sits in the dark shoveling it into his mouth and when it’s gone he may or may not consider eating the box just to be rid of jeremy’s face smiling at him that he can’t really see but knows is there
  • jean gets raisin bran. he doesn’t really care, thinks he’s a pretty good match for a pretty bland cereal that doesn’t get a lot of appreciation. but the thing about raisin bran is if you add a little sugar it’s actually decent
  • thea actually stole wheaties right out from under kevin. the frosted kind with her mom on the box are the only cereal amalia will eat.
  • matt asks to be on coco puffs bc they’re dan’s favorite
    • he tries to get them to put dan on cap’n crunch
  • when thea stole wheaties from kevin, they were originally going to put kevin on apple jacks. then they tried to stick allison with that special k stuff and she only agreed to it on the condition they switch kevin to lucky charms instead
  • who even all makes court
  • i don’t know anymore beyond my own headcanons
  • anyway.
  • andrew. what cereal for andrew.
  • in his picture on the box he’s scooping up cereal with his massive goalkeeper racquet like it’s a spoon
  • the deal neil had to make to get him to actually do the shoot
  • it’s hard to make andrew look not terrifying and encourage people to buy and eat the cereal. of course he isn’t smiling. his face is settled in some neutral area, he’s sporting his signature arm bands, and with his muscles bulging around the racquet spoon he just manages to pull off a convincing “eat your cereal kids”
  • the silliness of the spoon kind of counteracts the blandness of his expression
  • that and the blue cartoon toucan perched on his shoulder
  • oh yeah he’s on froot loops
  • nicky makes one (1) joke about the andrew on the box being lifesize
  • it’s so ridiculous guys
  • neil keeps a cutout though
    • it goes in his new binder. he has two. one for the foxes, and one just for andrew. he keeps it tucked inbetween a copy of that photo of them in their matching coats at the airport and the lease contract for their first shared apartment
  • just. court players on cereal boxes. dan and matt’s kids divided over whether to have aunt allison or uncle neil for breakfast (“dad you say uncle neil every time your vote doesn’t count anymore”). a little mundane thing that symbolizes their success and how far they’ve come. (“country music artists are on cereal boxes i wouldn’t be proud of that matthew” “nicky shut tf up” *kevin wailing in the background bc of lucky charms’s sugar content*)
Beyond hope?

Time for me to blabber about Mutsuki some more because #whynot I see a lot of people saying he’s too far gone to be redeemed, and while his actions are certainly disturbing and someone needs to stop him soon (and he will face consequences for them), I just really, really don’t think “too far gone” fits with the themes of the manga, or with Mutsuki’s character. I could of course be wrong, but we’ve seen plenty of other characters come back from similar acts. (This isn’t to bash any of these characters, because I pretty much love almost all of TG’s characters–except for, like, Tokage et al–and it isn’t to say that people have to like or root for/can’t be mad at Mutsuki; it’s fine for people to have their own opinions.)

We have seen several characters try to kill a main character’s human best friend or romantic interest for purely selfish reasons and go on to be redeemed:

We’ve also seen Kaneki use Shiono against Eto in a similar fashion to how Mutsuki’s using Yoriko, and Shiono actually wound up dead. It is terrible and not okay in any of these circumstances, but it didn’t make Kaneki past the point of no return.

We have seen a violent, sadistic murderer character romantically obsessed with Kaneki to an unhealthy point go on to recover:

Hell, Shuu even helped plan Kaneki and Touka’s wedding celebration for them. Good job, Shuu.

While I desperately hope Mutsuki does not kill Yomo because I love Yomo and the idea of him dying makes me feel sick (and I’m honestly not sure Mutsuki will kill Yomo; if he does I’ll be mad at him but still root for him), we have seen someone who killed a loved one who sacrificed themselves for a main character be forgiven by that character and work alongside them:

Kaneki deliberately chose to ensure that Karren would sacrifice herself for Shuu in order to spare Shuu and Ui. Shuu forgave him for that, and it’s also worth remembering that Amon and Akira forgave Touka for killing Kureo, and Hinami helped Kaneki save Akira even though she knew her father killed her parents.

We’ve seen characters who suffer from mental disturbances engage in acts of extreme violence (including against former friends) and go on to grow:

Takizawa (and Tsukiyama actually) I never thought would get any kind of redemption, and look at him (them) now. You could argue that some of these situations are framed slightly differently by the narrative, but many of them are not. And I haven’t even brought up all the things characters like Kaneki, Amon, Ayato, and Touka have come back from (Touka and Ayato were my original favourite murder children in this series). One of my favourite things about Tokyo Ghoul is how morally gray every single character is–no one is fully evil and no one is fully heroic.

I kind of think the fact that characters are never beyond the point of no return is one of the points of Tokyo Ghoul. Characters who are narratively beyond that point (Furuta) still have shades of gray in them and complex motivations, and the story makes clear it’s their choices that are paving their paths to destruction (which seems to be exactly what Furuta, for example, wants anyways, as he’s essentially given up on ever receiving any kind of love). Characters who want love and a place to belong and prioritize finding it–however messed up, counterproductive, and downright wrong that prioritizing might be–usually do find it eventually, even if it’s not where they expected to find it. Additionally, characters who have people who care about them in particular tend to recover. I’m not saying I see a happy ending for everyone, or even for Mutsuki specifically, but I do expect him to find some peace even if he doesn’t survive the manga, since that’s most consistent with the manga’s themes. 

anonymous asked:

So, I'd have a hard time believing ULT for Jon (the hints are there for sure) except for the boat expedition idea. Jorah is exactly right about it being safer to fly. If Jon wanted her safe and was in love with her, he'd agree. But no, he wants to sail. He can't both love her and put her in danger. He's not one to waste time for just wanting sex. "There's no time for that." The only reasonable explanation is he specifically wants to seduce her and enhance his influence over her. Thoughts?

He tested her plenty of times, he’s begged her for help multiple times, and still, nothing. He went on a bloody suicide mission, where they almost all died, all because of her power hunger, all because of her obsession for the Iron Throne. 

Nothing he did nor said to her, convinced her, seeing the army of the dead didn’t convince her, giving her the North didn’t convince her. He knows it’s not an honorable thing to do, but he’ll do it for the North, for his home, for Bran, Arya and Sansa.

So yes, he proposed they sail together, so he could seduce her. I think he took that decision, right here: “I can’t forget what I saw North of the Wall, and 

I can’t pretend that Cercei won’t take back half the country, the moment I march North.

And THIS was Jon’s reaction, right sfter she finishes that sentence (gif is mine):

His face, and the way his mouth kind of twitches, the way he lowers his gaze and head, shows just how frustrated he is with her. 

What I can read on his face is both, “Well, you give me no other choice then.”, and “Power, and The Iron Throne, mean more to you than my the Kingdom I just gave you, more than the lives of all my people (my family included) that are in it. What kind of Queen person are you?”

And some of y'all still out here saying he’s in love her…

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

For all the Jondelion fans out there, THIS, is why, even though she already has agreed to help, he has to seduce her and make her fall for him, he has to make her believe that he’s fallen head over heels for her too, and also why he has sex with her.

I think Jon is trying to take every possible outcome into consideration, what he’s trying to create, is a bulletproof plan. Littlefinger’s quote applies to Jon perfectly, “Fight every battle everywhere, always, in your mind. Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend.”, this is exactly what Jon is doing. 

He knows he can’t trust Cercei, he knows her words are like wind, he knows he can’t trust Dandelion either, she’s beyond self absorbed and too obsessed with sitting on the Iron Throne. 

So the moment Dandelion said “I can’t pretend that Cercei won’t take back half the country, the moment I march North.”, he made his decision, because he knows, he knows there is a chance that Cercei, even if she comes back and gives her word, chances are, she will not keep it, and once word spreads that she won’t join them, that she lied, Jon would have to kiss her Dragons goodbye. 

That answer she gave him, literally confirmed to him, that Dandelion would let them all die for the Iron Throne, she’d ride South the moment she heard about Cercei not keeping her word, the moment Cercei started “coming in” and taking back “half the country”. So he has to give her something (in this case, someone. HIM.), that will keep her North. He needs her invested, and have her fall for him, is key to that, have her fall for him is the answer. 

This way, when Cercei comes in to take “half the country”, Dandelion won’t bail on them all, because her love for him will keep her bound to the cause. 

anonymous asked:

Do you think Bodhi Rook is religious?? I can't make up my mind.

The Empire is a prideful god. It will permit no higher authority than itself, no greater power than its armies, no eternity but its reign. (Those who might suggest otherwise are heretics, and are dealt with as idolaters must.) A militant kind of monotheism; there are no gods, there is no Force, there is just the Empire. There is only the Empire.

Bodhi had an aunt who—well, he was never entirely clear what, except that mother and father had stopped talking about her the same time the holo of the Emperor went up over the mantle. (His mother had cried in her room for weeks, and when Bodhi thinks of it he still tastes the charcoal of burnt rice, the awful tension of whispered arguments happening in other rooms.) But it had something to do with the clear, bright crystals she had sent them, because Bodhi’s father had gone room by room and scooped them up, shoved them in a box. Buried it under the floorboards.

No one was allowed to play Jedi and Separatists anymore. At least not where an adult would see, would go grey and gather all of them together in a tight circle, to say in a quiet voice, you can’t, don’t, stop.

(There are no Jedi anymore. There were never any Jedi. The Jedi never existed. How does the old adage go? The power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one’s mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them—)

Shykeli was thrown out of flight academy for meditating in secret. The administration had found ‘Jedi propaganda’ in her things, though they’d never really explained what that was, or what it meant. If the Force isn’t real, Cregha had said thoughtfully, why are they so scared of people venerating it?

Cregha was reassigned to skiffs soon after. Bodhi missed xir.

But after Galen gives him the message, Galen cups Bodhi’s face, tucks Bodhi’s hair behind his ears. Galen says, May the Force be with you.

“My auntie had—she gave us crystals like that,” Bodhi blurts out in Jyn’s vague direction, because he’s had may the force may the force looping through his head for a standard week; he can’t figure out why it won’t stop.

Jyn glances at him sidelong, still playing with the bright, clear crystal on the cord around her neck. It catches artificial light like something not artificial at all, more real than anything Bodhi has seen. 

“It’s a kyber crystal,” Chirrut says into the awkward silence. “A conduit of the Force. Your aunt must have been a believer.”

“My father hid them,” Bodhi says absently. (may the force may the force…) “He didn’t want us attracting attention.”

“Smart man,” Baze offers, and then they are all silent again, waiting for Cassian to return.


(This is what Bodhi Rook thinks of in his last moments: of crystals, and the Force invisible but omnipresent; of being smart versus being good, and sending a message out into space, not knowing if anyone is listening.

His last words are for Galen. His last thoughts are for the aunt he did not know. If perhaps—)

I.    I can vividly recall two things about Kindergarten: one being that my teacher, Mrs. Barker, could never have enough bee-themed decorations in her classroom. The second thing was Delilah.

“II.    Delilah was my best friend in Kindergarten. She had wavy brown hair, beautiful dark brown eyes and skin, and she always wore the same thing: a blue sweater with yellow flowers. I wish I remembered more about her, and about our friendship, but the image of her smiling at me on the hooded blacktop is all I can remember. What strikes me the most about this is that despite however many faces have come and gone in my life, her face, her hair, her eyes, and her sweater are still so clearly-defined in my memory.

“III.    In the first grade, Mrs. Sullivan taught us about butterflies. Her golden blonde hair ended just above her shoulders, and she always smiled as though she was the happiest person in the world. I don’t recall if I ever did, but I hope that at some point, I told her she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I hope I made her smile.

“IV.    When I was in the second grade, I moved to a different elementary school; not long after beginning there, I met a girl named Katie. I don’t remember many details about our friendship; I don’t know what we talked about, what part of the playground we enjoyed the most, or if she liked Littlest Pet Shop toys just as much as I did. What I do remember is falling on the grass, and a moment later, Katie offering me her hand to help me stand again, giggling loudly as she did so. There must have been something very special about Katie that stuck with me, because when I had to move again, I kept a photo of her that she gave me, one where she was positively beaming at the camera. I don’t remember exactly when I lost the photo, but I still remember just how utterly happy she looked.

"V.    For most of the third grade, a girl named Natalie shared a bus seat with me, where we would read the same books together, taking great care not to turn the page until knowing that the other had also finished reading it. When I had to move at the end of the year, she took a bright red colored pencil to the inside cover of her personal copy of ‘Marley and Me’, which was our favorite, and wrote ‘FROM: NATALIE’ in the tidiest letters she possibly could. Before leaving the bus for the last time, she asked me to keep it.

"VI.    In the fourth grade, I had finally settled into a school that I would be staying in, and that was when I met Kaitlynn.

"VII.    Kaitlynn had bright red hair, impeccable fashion, and some of the highest cheekbones I had ever seen. We sat together on the bus rides to and from school every day, shared silly secrets, and I couldn’t have asked for a better friend at the time. Seeing as she was such a beautiful and kind girl, Kaitlynn attracted many other friends, as well as boys in our grade who would gawk at her from afar. Sometime towards the end of fourth grade, her newer friends convinced her to tell me that we couldn’t be friends anymore. I was heartbroken, and after an agonizing forty-five minute recess of me slugging around the playground by myself, the girls took pity on me, and Kaitlynn said we could be friends again.

"VIII.    We remained friends, if not acquaintances, for many years. I think some part of me always cared for her more than a friend would, but after elementary school, we didn’t speak as much. We rarely shared a bus seat anymore, but when we did, she would go on as if our previous conversation had only just finished. I held no resentment for her, and genuinely enjoyed her company, even if it was only when she needed to vent about something or pass the time. I always thought of her as the girl who could never be hurt by anything or anyone, but when she only seemed to share her vulnerable moments with me, I couldn’t help but feel special.

"IX.     I never realized that all the years meant so much to her, because on the last day of seventh grade, the day she had to move across the country, away from all her friends she had made over the years, she sat with me on the bus ride home. She quietly asked me if I knew it was her last day, and when I said yes, she burst into tears. I was surprised, seeing as our last conversation had been so long ago, but I immediately embraced her, gently stroking her hair to calm her down. Though it was difficult through her sobs, I was able to catch a few ‘I’m sorry’s, ‘I’ll miss you’s, and occasionally-coherent thoughts, like how she wished she had been a better friend to me, and that she was so thankful for all the time I spent listening to her, even when she treated me poorly or otherwise ignored me. We hugged one last time before she had to get off the bus, and she managed to look as if nothing had happened by the time her stop had come. As she waved goodbye and smiled brightly to some of the other students on the bus, I desperately wished that she would never leave.

"X.     Now that I understand what all this means, I can hardly keep myself from telling others just how much I love women. The little girl who pined for girl after girl after girl finally gets the validation she deserved but never received so many years ago.

—  “but you’ve never liked girls before,”

anonymous asked:

It's been so long since I read the books or watched the movies, could you tell me why snape was a bully, etc? Or give me a link to read up on it? I honestly can't remember anything other than the fact that the patronus thing that helped harry in the woods was snape's

Hi, i’m not sure about links I can actually give you to read up on it because most of the “antisnape” thing stems from people who read the books and have reached that conclusion. I can kinda give you a run down though, but I think the best thing would be re-read the books especially when you’re older and more mature :)

  1. Snape grew up in an abusive household, which many people think gives him the right to be a dick to people because he was broken, but at the same time do not see that Harry and other characters have come from abusive households and did not feel the need to be so hateful
  2. Snape used to creep and watch Lily from the bushes as a child, and when he got caught, he tried to turn her against her muggle family and her sister.
  3. Snape leered after Lily for years, and hated James Potter for having a crush on her as well. I will agree that the marauders were special dicks to Snape and only Snape, which was wrong, but it was also school time and Snape wasn’t exactly the nicest guy either? James and Sirius were compared even by the teachers to Fred and George, and it seems their rivalry with Snape was similar to Harry’s rivalry with Draco. Anyways, the point was that he would tell her off for being friends with Potter and Black, with no regard to her wishes
  4. Snape actively tried to expose Remus as a werewolf and actually ended up doing that because he was resentful. In fact, his prejudice against him was so strong that he made a class of third years look it up just to out him?
  5. He hung around with the Youth Death Eaters Club or whatever and actually sympathized with them
  6. Lily was the only friend he had that wasn’t Slytherin Death Eater and he called her a “mudblood” in a very nasty way as well after he got bullied by the Marauders (who incidentally actually grew up and changed). People don’t just blurt out racial slurs against their friends unless they believed them to begin with
  7. He then grew up and actually actively became a Death Eater whereas the Marauders and Lily (with the exception of Peter of course) joined the Order of the Phoenix. The Death Eaters murdered and terrorized for years and Snape was a part of that.
  8. Snape was the one who heard the prophecy about a child bringing down the Dark Lord and was so loyal to Voldemort that he immediately went and informed him. He was happy to have a family and a baby die until he realized that family was Lily Evans’ family. He was also happy to let James and Harry die as long as Lily was safe, which is pretty disgusting.
  9. He may have then been recruited by Dumbledore, and yes, he may have had a part to play in appearing like a “large overgrown bat” but it doesn’t mistake the deep look of loathing he gave Harry, a 11-year old boy, the first time they made eye contact.
  10. Not only that, but Snape went out of his way to make sure Harry struggled in Potions, goading and taunting him from their very first lesson, and making life difficult for him. Harry was actually quite good at potions, he got an E in it without Snape breathing down his neck as he puts it. If a teacher cannot even develop their subject in all students, what are they good for? 
  11. Let’s also not forget that he was so loathed as being a massive bully that Neville’s greatest fear was Professor Snape, a category that was actually comprised creatures such as giant spiders, banshees and dementors by his classmates. Imagine being such a scary bully of a teacher (force-feeding poison to Trevor) that a 13-year old child’s greatest fear is you.
  12. I also understand that to keep up appearances, it was important for him favor Slytherins, but he didn’t have to be so cruel to Harry and his friends.
  13. He purposefully goaded Sirius Black in OOTP as being useless to the Order, even though he of all people should have known (being so close to Dumbledore) that Sirius had no choice. Old rivalries or not, that’s an remarkably cruel thing to do. 
  14. Speaking of OOTP, the Occlumency classes were particularly torturous for Harry, where Snape attacked him and fished out horrible experiences from Harry’s childhood for fun. He seemed to take pleasure in hurting Harry and didn’t teach him anything at all, and made sure to embarrass Harry whenever he could about “Remedial Potions”. Not only that, but he didn’t even stop to listen to Harry after he saw the memories in the Pensieve but just cancelled the classes without telling Dumbledore. Snape was so sure Harry was just like James that he was okay with Voldemort possessing Harry rather than accept any alternative.

Basically Snape was a man who hated a child for having survived an attack he made sure happened, who hated a child for having the same eyes as the woman he loved and the same face as the man he hated, and he was so bitter that Lily never loved him back that he bullied most children. Snape never admitted Voldemort was wrong, just that he loved Lily, and that’s the only reason he ever joined forces with Dumbledore. Being evil came naturally to Snape, if it weren’t for Lily dying, he would have happily ended up alongside Voldemort. I refuse to believe that a man with such horrible moral principles is a hero. To everyone who says Snape was faking it, he really, truly, was not. he was a Death Eater long before. And to everyone who says James and Sirius are the same, they really aren’t. They were the kind of boys like Fred and George, who played questionable practical jokes and pranks, and then outgrew them to fight the war. Besides, they supported Remus as a werewolf for years, and would have died for each other. Snape doesn’t even come close to them. 

Memory Lane | 02 ft. Yoongi

Originally posted by jimiyoong

→ grumpy husband yoongi au aka lots of fluff and a little smut
1.9k words
part 1 | part 2 | part 3BTS in 10 years!AU

A/N: Still on a hiatus but wanted to upload this as a thank you for the overwhelming support and love for Memory Lane part 1! I love this au and stay tuned for other members’ in this au! <3 


You’re laying in his arms, wrapped in the fluffiest bath robe you’ve ever worn, sitting on the balcony and staring out over the water. It’s been three days since you two got here to Bora Bora and it’s been a dream come true for you, since you’d always wanted to come here for your honeymoon as a child.

Today was an incredibly jam packed day, the schedule consisting of snorkeling and watching and experiencing the traditional culture. You patted his arm that’s wrapped around your waist. “Thank you Yoongi.”

He shifts behind you, low voice murmuring in your ear a little too delayed. “Mmm, for what?”

You giggle, and turn around to look at him, and like you expected, he was too close to dozing off. Laughing and turning in his arms so you can snuggle against his chest, he wraps his arm around your shoulders instead and props his chin on the crown of your head.

“I know you hate stuff like this, but thank you for bringing me here.”

He snorts, grabbing his wine glass and sipping at it while looking up at the stars. “You’re right I don’t, this shit sucks. I just wanna sleep.”

“I know Yoongi.” You hold him a bit tighter against you, molding yourself against him. “That’s why I’m so happy you agreed to all of this.”

He chuckles, the arm on your shoulder dropping to stroke your upper arm with slow and firm movements. “You’re lucky I kind of love you because I don’t even do this kind of stuff for the maknae.”

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sassy-molassy  asked:

Reddie prompt: "You only want me when you can't have me". Some angsty shit with a fluffy end. It doesn't matter who these words will belong to, Eddie or Richie, I will be glad anyway if you'll write it.

okay sick done. i hope you like this, it feels like it’s shit but i also kind of love it? idk here u go darling xxx

ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12334281

warnings: kissing, swearing, mentions of sex i guess?? they’re sixteen yo

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anonymous asked:

If Lotor were to learn that Keith is a hybrid, do you think he'll try to persuade Keith into joining him? Of course it won't work but I can't but feel that at some point Lotor is going to play mind games with Keith (or Lance because he's insecure) in order to tear team Voltron apart.

I mean, I know it’s certainly a popular fandom idea that Lotor’s going to try and lure someone away from Voltron, but…

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anonymous asked:

the baby ian chapters are aboslutely killing me with love. Sounds as are there no complications with mother or baby? Can't wait to see them all at home! love the blog thank you all

Flood my Mornings: Beeyin On Board

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment:  Ian (V), (All four FMM Frasers together for the first time) 

July 26th, 1951

“You know….you can drive faster, darling. I won’t mind one bit.”

Jamie flashed me a brief, dazzling grin before doing absolutely nothing about it save returning his attention to the road. 

“Not only would I not mind….” I went on, clearing my throat dramatically, “….I might insist that you go faster than—” I peered at the gauge. “Good Lord, Jamie, TEN miles per hour??” 

“Oh, but ‘tis a grand speed,” Jamie said brightly, moving through the next turn with all the haste of a particularly unambitious glacier. “Dinna fash yourself, Sassenach, I’ll do.” 

“Well, I might not,” I spluttered, shifting Ian more comfortably in my arms. “At this rate, it’ll be three hours before we get home, and by that time, I’ll have pissed all over the seat!”

“Piss to your heart’s content, my lady,” he said with a courtly flourish of the hand, and damn me, if he wasn’t completely serious. “I’d rather that kind of accident than the other.”

Despite the demands of my bladder, I laughed, and Jamie did too. “I’ll get faster wi’ time, I promise,” he offered of his own accord, looking a little sheepish even as he exerted enormous concentration upon the line of cars before us. “Only, it’s the first time driving wi’ the lad aboard wi’ us and—well—I wish to be cautious, is all.”

“I know, sweetheart.” I laid a hand gently on his leg, squeezing gently and smiling. It was nearing dusk, a treacherous time of day for motorists in any circumstances, so his caution was well-placed.  "No matter how long it takes, I’m only glad we’re going home.” 

He exhaled with a smile. “Aye, at last.”

Honestly, we had had an easy go of it, all things considered. When Bree was born, she and I had stayed in the hospital for a full two weeks. One was customary, as far as American postpartum care was concerned; the second had been deemed wise by Dr. Reynolds in light of my cesarian incision and Bree’s time in the NICU. I had been more than happy to comply, if it ensured she was safe and well. 

With Ian, though—the both of us progressing well, with no complications whatsoever—I had been positively ITCHING to get out of the bloody hospital, and Reynolds, bless him, allowed it after only four days of observed convalescence. “I’ve broken all the customary policies and procedures for the Frasers,” he said with a smile as he initialed and signed the discharge forms, “why not complete the set?”

It was true, too. From Jamie’s presence both during the birth and near-constantly afterward, to my refusal of sedation, to my insistence upon breastfeeding both at once and exclusively, we had caused quite a stir in the normally rigid parameters of the modern maternity ward. God bloody Bless Dr. Reynolds: a man ahead of his time, if ever I met one (and I had, at that). 

Jamie had split those four days between the hospital and being home with Bree. Beyond the promised respite from the stresses of the hospital, the greater part of the relief of going home was that we would all be together under the same roof; the four of us, starting to figure out the rhythms of this new life.

“How’s he managing?” Jamie asked as we turned (see: ‘crept’) onto the street leading into our neighborhood. 

Wonderfully.” I lifted Ian up closer to my face and kissed that sweet, brown forelock. “Dreaming away.” 

“Good,” Jamie said, his voice warm with a smile as he chanced a few glances at our tiniest passenger.  “It perhaps bodes well, that he sleeps so sound and so often, aye?” 

“Let’s hope so…..What say you, Ian?” I asked of our son (had my talk-to-infants voice always been two octaves higher, I wondered?). “Does this mean you’re going to be kind and let Da and Mummy get their sleep?”

Ian grunted and slowly covered his face with both hands as if to say, Jesus H. Christ, you lot, hush and leave me to it.

Best get used to noise, little winky,” I murmured, leaning my head against his and closing my eyes in contentment. “Your family is quite the lively bunch.” 


“YOU’RE HOMMMMMME!!!!!!!!!!”

“Home, indeed!” 

Jamie set down the bags, closed the door behind us, and caught a pajama-ed Bree up into his arms.  

“Home AND gonna STAY home, aye?” 

“Aye,” Jamie and I promised in unison as Penelope came in to hug and kiss and fawn and be embraced heartily in return. 

Bree leaned over at a ridiculous angle, trying to peer down from Jamie’s arms into mine. “Hi-Beeyin!” she squealed. 

Grinning, I scooped up Ian’s hand onto my finger and mimed a little waving motion. “Say, ‘Hi, Bree!’” 

Brianna giggled insanely, then demanded excitedly of her brother, “Come see the house? Wanna come see it??” 

“Oh, of course he does. Why don’t you show him around?” I said softly, hoping she would take the hint and lower her volume. 

“THIS ONE—” our daughter bellowed, grandly gesturing to the living room as we ambled into it, “—IS—Um—uhhhh….” She furrowed her brows, then leaned close to Jamie’s ear and whispered loudly, “What’s-this-room name’s is, Da?” 

“Sitting room,” he whispered back, lips twitching. 

“SIT-IN ROOM!” she declared triumphantly to the baby without missing a beat. “We sit on’na chairs and play and stuff! An’ Mummy draws on books at’the desk!”  

And in such a fashion, the tour progressed, with Bree giving scattered commentary on each room in the house. As for her brother…Well, Ian’s appreciation of this exclusive inside-look for his benefit amounted to the occasional doleful blink and—as Bree was extolling the virtues of the back garden— an urgent grunting that presaged a nappy-change would be needed very soon indeed. 

After we had bade goodnight to Mrs. Byrd, Ian and I retreated to the bedroom, where I laid him on his back while I got changed into my nightclothes. LORD, did it feel wonderful to be in cotton that didn’t smell of the hospital.

He was wide-awake as I changed him, making little snuffling sounds and starting to look around at his surroundings with more precise intention.  I crooned love and nonsense to him as I worked, praising his efforts and making ridiculous faces in response to his. 

From across the house, I could hear the sounds of Jamie (Bree in tow) locking down the house for the night, the ritual concluding with a familiar, weighty, “Bedtime now, a leannan.”

For once, Bree didn’t immediately respond with bargains and pleas. Rather, I heard a gasp of delight and the pattering sounds of bare feet dancing and jumping in anticipation. “Essighted for Beeyin’s can sleep in MY room!?”

A suppressed laugh, then a slight groan as Jamie bent or squatted down. “Cub, we’ve been over this many a time already, aye? Ian’s got his wee crib in Mummy and Da’s room, and that’s where he’ll sleep.”

“But—Da!—Listen, m’okay?—He likes it better, my room!”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh! He saw it an’ he liked it!” 

I snorted a laugh as I finished pinning the nappy. “Your sister is going to speak for you *quite* a lot over the years, sweetheart. I can guarantee it.” 

“Be that as it may, Bree,” came Jamie’s stern rumble from the hall, “he’s too small, aye? When he’s old enough, he’ll most certainly share your room, but he needs to stay close to your Mummy for now, so that when he wakes in the night, he can—”

Even from the next room, I could hear the sniffing and grumbling, the spluttered syllables that meant a tantrum was coming on in force. Shifting Ian up onto my shoulder, I swept into the hall to save the day. “Would you like Ian to sit with you while you have your story, pumpkin?”

And just like that, she was cheering in triumph. 

Bree picked The Poky Little Puppy as that night’s story, and Ian, bless him, stayed awake for nearly the entire recitation. He lay on his back in the middle of Bree’s bed, blinking up at the ceiling and making a whole array of precious, soft squeaking sounds, much to the delight of his sister.  She lay on her belly near his head, chin propped on her elbows, watching his every wiggle in blissful absorption. Jamie’s voice was soothing and warm as he read, his hand just as comforting in mine as we perched on the edge of the bed, watching our little ones watching one another. 

As the ever-vague moral conclusion of the story was about to sound forth, though, Ian began to cry. Well, no, it could be called ‘crying’ only for the first second; after that, the tiny little body was emitting screams loud and piercing enough to wake the dead. 

“Oh, darling….” I leaned forward and touched his cheek with a fingertip, not surprised to see him root at once, seeking a nipple. “No need to cry, my love,” I murmured. “We’ll get you sorted, Ian, don’t worry.” 

Bree had bolted to her knees at once at the sound and was staring down wide-eyed at the squalling, red thing that had been her brother a moment ago. “Wha—What’ssa matter wi’ him?” she demanded. 

“He’s just telling us that he’s hungry,” I explained, preparing to lift Ian up and take him in the other room.

Before I could manage it, though, Jamie abruptly pulled on our still-joined hands and was helping me up off the bed. 

Jamie?” I hissed as I tried to get my feet under me, “—what in the—?” 

Verra sweet dreams to ye, cub,” Jamie said significantly to Bree. “We’ll see ye in the morning, aye?” 

“Wh—” Her head snapped up in alarm. “Where you goin’??” 

“Ye wanted have your brother stay in your room….” We were at the doorway, Jamie’s hand poised over the lightswitch and his brows raised. “….did ye no’?” 

“Ummmmm….Well….” Bree looked absolutely, hilariously helpless as she blinked between us the baby, who was playing his vociferous role to perfection. Jamie’s arm was around my waist, and I could feel his belly shaking with laughter. 

Brianna Fraser did her very best to save face as she fixed her gaze upon Ian and said casually, “He can…maybe sleep wi’ you an’ Mum an’ Da ‘til, ummmm he’s….” Her eyes flicked up to us. “….um-til he stops bein’ hungry?”

Jamie grinned, I giggled, and we both came forward at once to shower her with a thousand kisses each. “That sounds a grand plan, a leannan.” 


onliafaze  asked:

Izuku, Bakugou, Todokori, Iida, Kaminari, and Kirishima discover their supposedly Quirkless s/o is actually hiding an amazing quirk because she doesn't want to be a hero; she can't handle the pressures that come with it.

My dear @onliafaze , I am going to do these one at a time cos I do not want you to wait forever and I am getting really into these. So first up is Midoriya! I wrote this even though it is over my character limit cos this was requested before I had posted my rules and it seemed unfair not to write it just because of that. These were supposed to be hc but I have no self control so sorry about that XD. ~Admin K 🎶


What was he going to do? These psychotic…things were destroying everything in the area. Three of them. These things looked like they were made of the odds and ends of all kinds of animals. With the body of a lion, a thick snake’s body coming from the spot where the lion’s tail would be, and from the waist up, they were human—they were the stuff of nightmares. They had terrifyingly large fangs dripping with poison, and it was obvious very quickly that the power of those snake tails had the power of being lethal with the right amount of force. Bat wings a kilometer in length sprouted from their lion backs.

People were running around like mad, desperately trying to escape them. People with all kinds of powerful quirks, but with no training to use them properly. Pro heroes had to be on their way, but who were these villians? Would the heroes even know how to stop them? First things first, he absolutely had to find ___ and get her to safety. His girlfriend was his number one priority at the moment; he could try to fend off those other guys later, but being quirkless in this situation? ___ was not safe here. He screamed her name, desperately calling to find her.

Where is she? Where is she?!

Midoriya:

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I am slowly but surely trying to deal with the salt I have for MCU Wanda and MCU in general.


“Stark?”

Tony nearly threw his tablet.

Wanda shrank backward, frowning. She felt the need to apologize but it got stuck in her throat. Ever since her first apology where Tony had simply turned his back on her, she’d realized he hadn’t wanted to hear it.

Tony put a hand over his heart, took a deep breath, then turned toward her. “Yes, Ms. Maximoff?”

Wanda gripped her phone in her hands tightly, then charged forward. “Vision and I joined Tinder to learn more about human interaction together.”

Tony’s hand over his heart turned from trying to catch his breath to more of a clutching of pearls in horror. “Oh my God. Why?

“Vision is still learning social cues,” Wanda explained, and then paused, because adding her reasoning would be giving him a piece of herself that she wasn’t ready to lay bare. Then again—she had seen his fears. Perhaps she needed to be laid bare to Tony. “I’m—when my brother and I joined Hydra, my learning of social niceties was stunted as well. And I thought—”

“You thought Tinder was the way to learn?” Tony asked, appalled.

“I joined MeetMe, too…” Wanda began, but trailed off when Tony groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

“Honey,” Tony said, and Wanda bristled instinctively until she realized there was no condescension in his tone, and remembered that Tony preferred nicknames to people’s actual names. “Tinder is mostly for dating. Delete that one.”

“Okay, but, um—” Wanda hemmed and hawed, trying to figure out how to continue. “…I get the exact same messages on MeetMe. And some of these men are—I tell them I’m not interested in that, and they blow up at me. Even though MeetMe says it’s for friends.”

“Pepper gets creeped on with her LinkedIn account,” Tony informed her, tucking his tablet under his arm. “If it’s a private account, there will always be a creep that will try to hit on you.”

Wanda frowned down at her phone. “I also came to you because you’re—a numbers man?”

Tony paused, growing cautious again. “Yeah?”

“…I mean, statistically speaking, these men can’t possibly all have nine inch penises.”

Tony put a hand over his chest again. “Jesus Christ, I’m so glad these things didn’t exist when I was a child.” He paused. “…Fourteen-year-old me would have loved it but looking back on it that’s probably not good.”

That… explained a few things about Tony that she’d gleaned from his mind.

“Listen,” Tony sighed. “The best thing to do is block all the guys that get abusive. Hell, block all the guys that start messages with sex talk. Block every person that sends you a dick pic.”

“But I must learn to deal with these people,” Wanda insisted. “Properly. I must learn to control myself and my powers.”

Tony sighed again, frowning at her, then held his hand up. “Okay, just—wait a minute.”

“Okay,” Wanda answered quietly, and watched as Tony began to pace.

It took a few minutes, but then he stopped right in front of her, grabbed her shoulders, and leaned in. It wasn’t as intimidating as it might have been in the past.

“Tell them that you don’t fuck with guys over seven inches,” Tony began.

“WHAT,” burst out of Wanda’s mouth before he could continue.

“Shh,” Tony said, waving her outrage away. “And seven is really pushing it. Listen. The average vagina is three to four inches long when not aroused. It’ll elongate when you are! But without the arousal, it’s three to four inches. You don’t wanna cram nine inches up there.”

Wanda kind of wanted to die even if this was good information.

“So tell them you only take seven inches, and watch these losers who think size makes up for skill backpedal and say oh no, they really are only seven inches. Boys are stupid, Wanda.”

“Really?” Wanda asked skeptically.

Tony nodded. “Yes.

Wanda wasn’t sure she believed him. “Well, alright.”

“Stupid,” Tony insisted again.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed, then gave her a pat on the shoulder and turned to leave. “This was weird please ask Clint next time.”

Clint probably wouldn’t have given her very good advice. Sometimes he treated her like a child, who needed to be protected. Wanda wasn’t a child; she was an adult, who could make her own decisions. That was part of the reason she’d struggled after Ultron—she hadn’t been held accountable for her actions.

And maybe she thought she hadn’t needed to be held accountable then either. She had been angry and—well. That didn’t matter now. She had made mistakes, and now she had to pay for them. It was something that she was coming to grips with.

Wanda had hope that people would one day see beyond her mistakes, though. People had seen past Tony’s after all. Tony hadn’t let his mistakes define him. She may have to try a little harder to be accepted after what she did, but she would do continue to try anyway, even though there were certainly going to be people who never forgave her. It was what she deserved. She understood that now.

“Why did Tony just tell you the average depth of a woman’s vagina?” Natasha asked, snapping her gum.

Wanda threw her phone with a yell. The only thing that saved it was her magic.

“Actually never mind, I don’t care.” Natasha snapped her gum again, flopping down onto the couch. “The average dick is five inches by the way.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you,” Wanda replied, then hurried away before she was told anything else about the human body.

Happy early Valentine’s Day! This is for @whimsyalice as part of @aftgexchange!!! Yay!!! I wanted to include all your fave ships/characters, so this is more Foxes nonsense than ships! Hope you enjoy! :) 

Use this post for reference

It starts on a Monday. The locker room is a cacophony of chattering voices as the Foxes all arrive for afternoon practice, everyone still thrumming with excitement from Friday night’s win. Neil follows the group in and past the lounge. Allison and Renee have their arms linked and heads bowed together as they make their way into the girls’ changing room. Dan and one of the freshman girls are close behind them, not even pausing their lively conversation as they disappear behind the door. Andrew pushes past the door for the men’s changing room, Neil behind him. Matt and Nicky are hot on their heels and arguing about some television show as Neil makes his way to his locker.

“I’m telling you,” Nicky says. “He’s dead.”

“No way!” Matt argues. “He’s gonna pop up next season. You’ll see.”

“Are you sure we watched the same episode?”

“They can’t just kill off a fan favorite like that!”  

Neil tunes them both out and spins the combination into his locker lock. When he pulls the door open, something falls out and clatters to the floor. There’s a moment where Neil’s heart stutters to a painful halt in his chest, his breath clogging up his throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, memories he’s long buried try to sink their claws back in. He has to close his eyes for a moment before he can focus again. Neil slowly looks down only to find a plastic knife at his feet. He blinks a few times in confusion before reaching down and picking it up. He turns it over in his hand and sees Justin Mattews scrawled in sharpie across the handle. As far as threats go, this one definitely makes the least amount of sense. Neil gives his brain another minute to come up with a possible explanation, but when it comes up blank, he holds the plastic knife out towards Andrew in a silent question.

“Neil! What’re you doing? You’re not supposed to tell anyone who you have!” Nicky exclaims from across the row of lockers.

“Murder season is finally upon us,” Matt says. “Let the chaos begin and may the best person win.”

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(Loki x reader) Can’t sleep pt.5

A/N: I made this angsty, I apologise. I hope you guys like it tho! I’ll try to make the next chapter more fluffy 

Warning: Injuries/comatose, etc

Words: 1305

Pt.1 

Pt.2

Pt.3 

Pt.4


Loki sat on a discoloured uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting room, silent and afraid. He hadn’t spoken for quite some time and Thor who was sitting next to him, was getting more and more concerned by the minute. Loki didn’t just feel sad, he felt numb. He felt helpless. He was so used to be able to do something to help. Now, all he could do was wait.

Thor put his hand on his brother’s shoulder hoping for some kind of reaction, even if it wasn’t a friendly one. He hadn’t moved, spoken, and had barely blinked for the past two hours of them waiting. He just wanted him to react to his contact and show some sign of movement, but he didn’t even stir. He simply stared at the floor, occasionally fidgeting with the skin of his cuticles which caused his fingers to bleed. Thor also felt helpless that he couldn’t do anything to help ease his brothers pain. That’s all anyone felt at this moment. Helplessness.

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On Keith and leaving Allura behind

One thing I’ve always wanted to clear up is the ‘Keith is cold-hearted’ thing. I can see how the scene of him being ready to leave Allura behind might come across as such, to quote Hunk: “Keith, that’s cold-hearted even for you.” 

But that is not how things actually are. Let me explain why he acted the way he did back then, because Keith has had just as many emotions about it as everyone else. 

Keith is rational, observant and tends to state stuff exactly as it is, with all facts lied out to make sure that everyone gets the whole picture. (see: how he explained his board in s1e1, how he argues with Lance at the beginning of s1e3 etc.) He has been known to accept critique pretty well - he actively tries to work on his temper (“patience yields focus”) and accepted that Lance’s plan was better than his in s1e7. In turn, however, he expects people to treat him the same way. If there isn’t any evidence to contradict it, he takes things people tell him at face value and accepts them as facts. It is one of the reasons him and Lance clash often, Keith can be found constantly correcting Lance’s statements and Lance doesn’t appreciate that. 

This is coupled with his rational personality. I have no doubt that part of that comes from having been forced to grow up without a family and people to comfort him when he was feeling lost, he has had to deal with reality screwing him over quite a lot of times already. He is extremely cautious and protective of his friends when a possible threat appears (see: how he placed himself in front of the team when Klaizap appeared in s1e2), probably exactly because he knows that when they are gone, they are gone. That happened to his dad, that happened to Shiro. 

And now he thinks the same thing has happened to Allura.

It is not that he doesn’t want to help her - because he does. He really does, he even said so himself. (And he wasn’t lying. We all know that Keith is an absolutely horrible liar.) In his mind, there were four facts battling with one another: 1) I want to save my friend; 2) “the ship that is headed to Zarkon’s central command?” “the place that’s way too dangerous for us to attack?” (a direct quote from an exchange between Hunk and Keith from s1e10. Keith had accepted that information a fact); 3) we are fighting against an enemy we know next to nothing about; and 4) I am responsible for the entire universe and I can only protect it with Voltron, for which Allura technically isn’t essential. 

So he stands there and goes through all the facts. And he comes to the - absolutely logical - conclusion that it is too dangerous to go to Zarkon’s headquarters. He could lose even more friends. He could lose the universe’s only hope. So he does what he always does: suppress his emotions for the greater good. He did that there, he did it when he decided to give up the blade in s2e8.

But then the others turn against him. We can’t see his face when they begin to vehemently protest against his statement-

-but I have no doubt that it would be serious and reflective. The backlash would have made him reconsider the conclusion he had come to. Because that’s what he does when he faces critique: take a step back and reevaluate. Obviously, fact 2) wasn’t quite right. [Also note how open his body language is, he is more than willing to discuss this.] 

And once the execution of their plan starts, which means an actual chance for getting his friend back, he is right at the front of the group again. 

Keith isn’t cold-hearted. Not at all. Does this look like the face of a cold-hearted person to you?

Because that is the face he made when he came to the conclusion that it would be too dangerous to save Allura. He is not happy about it. He genuinely believed that she was already lost and they were about to condemn the universe for a suicide rescue mission. If there is anything he can do to save his friends, he will do it. Like, seriously - he had never seen Zarkon before that episode. For all he knew, Zarkon could be 5ft tall, wield magic and be immortal. But as soon as he saw a normal-sized Galra in armor, Zarkon suddenly became less of an abstract concept and more of something that he has an actual fighting chance against. Look at how his attitude towards him changed in season 2, at the end of it he volunteered to infiltrate Zarkon’s base on his own!  

(Also. He was the one that asked Allura if she was sure that she wanted to come with them: “I’m sorry, princess, did you say ‘we’?!” in s1e10. He was worried for her. There is no way he didn’t want her back.)

Keith constantly watches out for the greater good. It’s what he told Pidge when she wanted to leave to go look for her family - “everyone in the universe has families!” - and what he did when he gave up finding out about his past in the Trials of Marmora. He pushes his own emotions down because he genuinely believes one person’s life and/or comfort isn’t worth putting the entire universe at risk. And that does not equal being cold-hearted.

tl;dr: Keith has had perfectly valid reasons why he hesitated to go on the rescue mission. He wanted her back just as much as everyone else. He is not a cold-hearted asshole.