this is for you grey face

I read this shower thought somewhere that from a dog’s perspective, humans are these semi-immortal elves who regularly live to 500 years, and I started thinking about elves.

 Imagine elves who regard humans the same way we look at dogs. Like you can pick one up to be your companion for life and genuinely love and adore each other, but let’s face it when you’re 150 years old and your boy toy is 33 you’re not going to have much in common.

 Like as far as the human is concerned this is happily ever after, she is the love of his life and therefore he must be hers, and when he asks her if she thinks she could ever love anyone again she doesn’t know what to say that wouldn’t upset him because really, the day she found the first grey hairs in his beard she started wondering whether to get a girl next.

The face you make when your soulmate has lost her goddamn mind!!!!

DRAG HER JACKSON YOU GO AND YOU DRAG HER FOR TRYING YOU AND ME! AND YOU TELL HER “April this may be what people in Moline do but this is not what city people do” and then walk off!!! 😣😣😣😣🤗🙄💀💀💀💀

😂😂😂😂😂😂 JACKSON LOOKS SO CONFUSED I’M HOLLERING!!! I CANNOT

Raise your hand if you’re terrified of YouTubers playing Hiveswap, introducing it to preteens and undertale fans, therefore prompting them to read Homestuck, creating new fans and another few years of toxicity, grey face paint, 7yP1Ng QU1RK2, shipping discourse, and bucket jokes.

The amazing @crystalgraziano drew Daylen so well –I’m awe struck! I’ve been giddy all day! Crystal captured his eternal resting bitch face and stand-offish disposition beautifully!! Thank you, thank you! Please visit Crystal amazing blog and check their fantastic art. Hope to work them with again. :)

Daylen Amell: companion warden

Two weeks. They had only been together for two weeks before people had found out.

 Draco paused before the entrance to the Great Hall and pressed his forehead against the cool stone wall. He could do this. So everyone knew that he was dating Harry Potter. So what? He had ignored the sneers when he had returned to Hogwarts for his 8th year, he had suffered through the occasional hex and had pointedly ignored any waspish comments that had floated his way. Somehow, he had endured all of this with his chin up and a disinterested look on his face.

He straightened determinedly, took a deep breath and walked in. Keeping his eyes on the wall above the Slytherin table, he still couldn’t miss how the noise of people chattering tapered off. Undeterred, he marched on. Pansy and Blaise, who had their heads close together in conversation, looked up. They glanced quickly at one another and then slid apart making space for Draco. He didn’t let the relief show on his face. Pansy was smart enough to wait until he was settled in and had filled his plate before asking, “Really, Draco? You didn’t think to tell us before we found out from a shrieking Weasley?”

Draco huffed out a sigh. “Of course I did. When we were ready you were the first people I was going to tell. It’s not my fault Weasley and Granger had the same idea we did and happened upon our broom closet.”

After giving him a searching look Pansy nodded, satisfied. She leaned in and whispered, “Tell us how it happened.”

Sneering, Draco was about to tell her to mind her own business when a hand fell on the back of his neck. He turned and found himself mouth to mouth with Harry. Whistles and cheers, and a few other less pleasant sounds, rose from around them. Panic rose thickly up his throat. He used both hands to shove Harry off of him. “What are you doing, Potter?” he whispered harshly.

Harry was looking rather taken aback and more than a little confused. He glanced at the surrounding Slytherins who were all watching with interest. Clearing his throat he answered, “I came to say good morning. I thought that since everyone knows..” He trailed off. The uncertainty in his bright green eyes made Draco uneasy, but he couldn’t ignore the panic he felt or the blush blooming on his cheeks.

“So because they know we are seeing each other it’s alright for you to maul me in front of everyone?” Draco asked.

A hint of amusement lit in Harry’s eyes. “Maul? Really, Draco. By now you should be able to tell the difference between a chaste kiss and when I’m trying to maul you.”

There were snickers around the table and a delighted laugh from Pansy. She moved over and patted the seat between her and Draco. “Potter, please do sit and tell us more.”

Draco made a choking noise. “I think that’s rather too much already. Potter, why are you sitting down?”

Harry reached for some toast and buttered it. “I’m having breakfast with my boyfriend.” He looked around at the many Slytherins still staring at him. He tilted his head to the side and added, “And all of Slytherin apparently.” More snickers.

This was too much. Far too much. And when Harry extended his hand for Draco to take a bite of his toast, he couldn’t believe it. He looked down at the toast and up at Harry again. Harry raised an eyebrow. “I am not eating toast from your hand, Potter!” Draco sneered.

Harry sighed, put the toast down and turned to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Draco huffed and looked down at his untouched plate. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Is it because I mentioned mauling and didn’t follow through? Because tonight-”

Horrified, Draco could do nothing but cover his eyes with a hand and weakly say, “Harry..”

Which, thankfully, was enough to shut him up.

With a sigh, Pansy offered. “Purebloods aren’t very affectionate in public, Potter. Or possibly at all, I really couldn’t say for sure since I don’t think I have even seen my parents kiss.”

There was a drawn out silence and Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He lowered his hand to find Harry was staring at Pansy in shock. He looked at Draco and quickly shuttered his expression. “Right. Sorry. I guess we didn’t really have time to prepare for this.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll just go back to the Gryffindor table.”
“No!” Draco said. “I don’t want you to leave. Just.. behave?” He smiled tentatively and was relieved when Harry grinned at him before he resumed eating.

One month later.

Harry watched Draco roll his eyes at Ron. They were sitting in the Three Broomsticks on a Saturday night with Ron, Hermione, Pansy and Blaise. Looking back at the past month, Harry couldn’t believe how smoothly it had gone and how well everyone was getting on. After that first awful morning when he had kissed Draco in the Great Hall, Harry had learned to keep his hands to himself when they weren’t alone. He was enormously relieved to find out that Draco still wanted to spend as much time as possible together in and out of their rooms. He was not embarrassed that people knew that they were together; he just did not want people to see them being intimate.

Something that Harry, several times a day, thought was a great pity. In fact, he was thinking it right this very second as he watched his beautiful boyfriend smirk at Hermione and that now familiar feeling rushed through him and all he wanted to do was kiss those smirking lips. Draco glanced at him and he must have had a dopey smile on his face because he saw the smirk fall away as Draco gave a soft smile meant just for him. The feeling grew along with Harry’s smile and he knew he should tell Draco that he loved him soon.

“Harry, Mrs Weasley wants to know if you’ll be having Christmas with us at the Burrow. She says she asked Ron to ask you ages ago, but we both figured he hadn’t said anything yet.” Hermione said, eyeing Ron who was sheepishly avoiding her gaze.

Harry laughed and quickly looked at Draco who was watching him carefully. Turning back to Hermione he answered, “I haven’t actually thought about Christmas yet. I’ll be sure to let you know my plans soon.” There was warmth and pressure on the side of his leg as Draco scooted closer to him on the bench. Harry glanced up but Draco was focused on the Butterbeer that he was busy sipping.

The conversation continued and Harry was laughing at Pansy’s impression of Filch when he felt warm fingers on his wrist. He looked down at his lap underneath the table and saw Draco’s pale hand flip over his own and intertwine their fingers. Looking up, he found Draco engaged in a potions conversation with Hermione. The only proof he had that Draco’s hand hadn’t acted of its own volition was the pink staining Draco’s cheeks. He recovered rather slowly but managed to rip his eyes away from Draco and look around the table to see if anyone else had noticed. They hadn’t. Nobody questioned the big goofy grin that stole across his features when Draco squeezed his hand either. He risked another glance at Draco and their eyes met. Draco’s cheeks were becoming pinker and he rolled his eyes at Harry, but Harry still saw the quirk of his lips.

“Wait,” Pansy interrupted them loudly. “Are you two holding hands under the table?”

Harry’s smile vanished and he made to let go of Draco’s hand, but Draco held on.
“Yes, Pansy. We are holding hands. So what?” He drawled.

“No, I don’t mean it like it’s a bad thing, Draco. I was just surprised. What made you change your mind?” she asked.

Harry was also particularly interested in this answer. He watched as Draco’s blush deepened. “Well, I thought about it and I don’t really understand why purebloods are so opposed to showing affection. The only thing I could think of was that a lot of the marriages are arranged, so maybe there was no affection there.”

Hermione was smiling and nodding at Draco while Pansy looked pensive. Blaise on the other hand, was grinning slyly. “So, Draco.” He started. ”You finally decided there was nothing wrong with showing the world that you’re in love?”

Everyone was silent, so Harry could clearly hear his heart thumping in his chest. He watched as Draco chewed on his bottom lip, face aflame. Slowly he turned to Harry, his grey eyes cautious but full. “Yes,” he cleared his throat. “I did.”

And finally, Harry got to kiss his boyfriend in front of other people. And he did. Thoroughly. Even when their friends started to laugh and groan. Draco was laughing against his mouth when he pulled away and said, “Thank Merlin, because I have a lot to show.”

In [Harry Potter’s] Heartbeat

“Hi, Harry!” Hermione said brightly as she slid into the seat across from Harry at his table in the library.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” Harry responded absently, not breaking his gaze away from where Draco Malfoy sat, a few tables over. His Transfiguration essay lay forgotten on the table in front of him. Hermione rolled her eyes when she noticed that Harry had only written down two sentences.

“Listen, Harry, I was wondering if you could help me with some of my homework,” Hermione put forth.

Harry didn’t bother to reply this time. He probably wasn’t even listening, as he was far too distracted watching Draco saunter out of the library.

“Harry?”

Harry abruptly turned his head to face Hermione.

“Oh, did you say something? Sorry, I was…” Harry paused and blushed an intense shade of puce. “Daydreaming,” he finished quickly and coughed. “What were you saying?”

Hermione shook her head in amusement at Harry’s obvious crush on Draco.

“I asked if you’d like to help me with an assignment for my Ancient Studies class,” Hermione said and Harry gasped.

“Hermione Granger is asking Harry Potter for help with an assignment? I never thought this day would come. Well, go on. What is it you need my brilliant mind for?”

Hermione chuckled and answered, “Lately we’ve been studying ways to invent new spells with theories and techniques from Ancient Magic. This assignment was to create a spell that would make an emotion sentient. For example, you could cast a spell to make someone’s anger  sentient and a fireball or something would show up and lead the person to things that made them angry. Anyways, I need you to be a test subject for my spell.”

Harry frowned. “So you don’t need my brilliant mind after all.” Then he asked, “Why isn’t Ron your test subject?”

“Oh, Ron’s too busy.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Doing what? Last I saw him, he was playing Wizard’s Poker with Dean and Seamus.”

“He’s busy now. Helping Ginny with Quidditch strategies for the match next week.”

“Funny. I wouldn’t think Ginny would need any help-”

Hermione cut him off by clearing her throat loudly. “The point is, I’m in need of a test subject and you’re available. Are you willing to help me?”

“Sure, I guess. Which emotion did you decide to do?” Harry said.

“Love.”

Harry suddenly looked very nervous. “What kind of love?”

Hermione shrugged. “I was aiming for romantic love, but the spell’s a work in progress. Could turn out to be any kind of love.”

“So the spell will lead me to who I love.”

Keep reading

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

I just had an epiphany. The album cover is in black and white with headlines covering half of her face. The two singles we’ve gotten so far are both satirical and making fun of the way the media portrays her. The media has a very black and white approach to things. There’s no grey area. At the surface, it seems like both “…Ready for it?” and “Look What You Made Me Do” are very black and white as well. If you don’t look any further, one is about a guy she’s dating, the other about Kanye or people being mean to her. But in reality, nothing is black and white. You have to look past the bullshit and get to what is really happening. She’s not talking about those things at all. There is a deeper meaning to both songs that you’ll miss if you aren’t paying attention. Just like there is much more to Taylor Swift than what the media portrays. The rest of the world really IS black and white, but Taylor and us? We know the truth. We’re in screaming color. 

Professor || Sebastian Stan

Relationship: Professor!Sebastian x reader

Summary: A one night stand turns into more of a problem when you realise that your professor is your one night stand.

Warnings: mentions of smut, drinking, age gap (reader is legal and in mid-twenties!!!), age difference, professor x student relationship

Word Count: 1770 words

A/N: im kinda getting my groove back let’s hope it lasts during the week because uni is already making me wanna die (((:

also my cause of death is the second gif GOODBYE


Just one more shot!” Seemed to be the motto of your night as you insisted you and your friends needed to go partying on one last Friday night before you start for your masters degree. 

You weren’t ever the party girl, never really big on drinking, but that all changed when you saw your schedule for the semester. You were going to be cooped up in your room for the next eight months, no doubt about it. 

So why not have a little fun while you still can? It can’t hurt, right?

Six tequila shots in and you were quite possibly the happiest person in the club, no, on the Earth. Not a single care in your mind, everything was all about the moment and whatever you laid eyes on in that very moment. 

That just so happened to be the exact moment your eyes met a gorgeous pair of cool grey ones. It might’ve been your intoxicated state, but you could’ve sworn that you knew those eyes, that you’ve seen them before. 

Your thoughts were pushed aside when the man walked even closer to you, offering to buy you a drink, to which you declined because quite frankly, you didn’t want to yack in front of the gorgeous man in front of you. 

His face fell when you denied his offer, but quickly made up for it when you grabbed his hand, pulling him to the crowded (makeshift) dance floor, immediately grinding yourself against him. 

His hands were large and warm, splayed against your waist as they moved your body against his, small and breathy moans leaving his mouth every once in a while as his head fell in the crook of your neck. 

A few songs later and the next thing you knew you were outside in the alley behind the bar against the wall making out with the handsome stranger you had yet to learn the name of. 

Fuck,” you gasped when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, undoubtedly working on leaving some type of mark on you, “Sebastian,” you heard him mumble, confusing you. 

“What?” You asked, still panting against his face, your arms still laced around his neck, “my name,” he said, “it’s Sebastian,” he repeated as you smirked, crashing your lips against his, “take me home, Sebastian” you whispered in a sultry tone before he grabbed your hand and flagging a cab down. 

 The cab ride to his place was filled with not-so-subtle touches as you both looked out of your respective windows, trying not to draw any attention to your states, which clearly didn’t work. 

Sebastian nearly dragged you out of the cab, quickly paying the driver before bolting into his building to the stairs, “it’s only the second floor,” he assured as you nodded but all you could focus was how broad his shoulders were. 

“I’m gonna fucking wreck you, doll,” he growled against your ear the second he had the door closed causing shivers to erupt on your skin as you followed him into the bedroom. 


Your head was pounding and every muscle in your body seemed to scream stop when you tried to sit or stand up. When you finally managed to muster up the strength to sit up and open your eyes you realised you were not, in fact, in your own bed. 

You gasped when you saw a man beside you, cursing when you couldn’t remember his name, even though it was right on the tip of your tongue. You checked your phone and found that it had thirty percent and you nearly cheered out loud. 

Quickly pulling on your clothes you took one last look at the very handsome sleeping man before walking out of his apartment, and making the walk to yours. 


Monday came sooner than you wanted it to, but your weekend was eventful and you couldn’t be happier at making the choice to go out on Friday. Your friends had pried every single detail from your night when you got home. You told them everything you could remember, but leaving out some of the more graphic details. 

You still couldn’t remember his name, you tried looking through your contacts to see if he maybe added his number, but nothing. It was still on the tip of your tongue, in the back of your mind, but you just couldn’t get it out. 

Either way, you knew you had to push the man out of your thoughts as you rushed to get ready for your first class. You hit snooze just one too many times and you were running behind. Figuring you’d have to skip on breakfast you grabbed a granola bar before rushing out of your apartment. 

You lived practically right beside campus, thankfully, so when you stepped on campus and saw your building you were relieved, it was the first day of classes as well, it shouldn’t be a problem if you’re a little late, right?

It was weird being on campus and in your mid-twenties surrounded by young eighteen year olds scurrying to find their classes, you almost laughed remembering your own panic when you had to find your classes as a freshman. 

Walking into the large building you quickly descended the stairs and into the basement before walking down to the end of the hall finally reaching the lecture hall and pulling the doors open, stumbling in. 

The room was quite, so quite as you clumsily stumbled in. Every single pair of eyes was on you as you made your way to the only seemingly empty seat at the front of the hall, slumping down in your seat. 

“As I was saying,” a male voice caught your attention, “my name is Dr. Stan, but you can call me Sebastian,” your heart dropped to your stomach as you slowly lifted your head to meet the same blue eyes, both your jaws tensing. 

“Let’s begin,” Sebastian said, his eyes lingering on yours for a second longer before turning to grab the textbook. 


“You slept with your professor!” Nat screeched, howling laughter continuing as you buried your head into the couch cushion as she continued laughing at your misery, “it’s not funny, we could both get in serious trouble,” you told her, sitting up as she raised a brow. 

“And why should anyone find out?” She questioned as you sighed, “I don’t know…” you trailed off realising just how paranoid you were being, “you’re both adults and you slept with him before you even knew he was gonna be teaching you,” she said, reassuring you as you nodded your head, slumping back against the couch. 

“I can’t even look at him without turning into a tomato,” you groaned as Nat let out another loud laugh, “you have leverage now,” she grinned mischievously as you rolled her eyes, “you’re ridiculous,” you laughed as she shrugged her shoulders, taking another sip of her drink. 

Your first class with Dr. Stan, or Sebastian as he preferred, was awkward nonetheless. You couldn’t focus on what he was saying, barely making any notes as your mind screamed you’ve seen him naked! over and over again. 

It’s true though, whatever he was doing, you could picture him doing it naked, as gross, disturbing, and wrong as that sounded you just couldn’t help yourself. You knew he must’ve been uncomfortable as well because he would cough or stumble on his words every time his eyes landed on yours. 

Thankfully you didn’t have another one of his lectures until Thursday, hopefully you’d be able to push aside what happened and be professional. You’d just have to wait and see. 


You stood at his desk looking everywhere and anywhere other than him his words ringing in your mind, “Miss. [Y/L/N], may I have a word with you?” His voice just kept replaying in your mind, psyching yourself out for what he was going to say. 

You heard the door close as the last student was finally out, leaving just you and Sebastian, “so,” he said, clearing his throat as you finally looked up at him, almost out of reflex. 

God he was gorgeous. Dark brown locks brushed neatly behind his ears, his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you, his tailed suit hugging every curve of his body, no wonder you slept with him in the first place. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about, well,” he chuckled nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his head as he looked at his feet. He was just as nervous about this as you, possibly more. 

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, his head shooting up at the sound of your voice, “neither of us knew you’d be teaching me and we were both a little intoxicated,” you assured him with a small smile he mimicked. 

“Right,” he spoke, “it doesn’t have to be weird at all,” even you knew that was a lie. Neither of you could look at each other without being flustered and neither of you were good at covering up your emotions. 

“It’s probably gonna be a little weird,” you laughed as he laughed as well, tipping his head to the side as he admired you, “that was a great night,” he whispered as both your laughter died down. 

Your breath hitched as he said that, a wave of arousal flowing through you as you remembered what you both did that night, “it’s illegal,” you warned, although you didn’t sound too convincing, “it wasn’t on that night,” he smirked as you straightened up, gaining some confidence. 

“Well, Dr. Stan,” you spoke in a fake preppy tone, “I must warn you that you’re venturing into some very dangerous waters,” now your tone was much more sultry than anything. You watched as he took a few steps towards you, his eyes much darker than when you first started talking to them. 

“Careful, Miss [Y/L/N], you don’t wanna start something you can’t finish,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your face, “who says I can’t finish it?” You smirked as he bit his lip, trying his hardest not to take you right then and there. 

The sound of voices outside the lecture hall made both you and Sebastian jump back just in time for the door to open and a new group of students came pouring in, “see you on Monday, Sebastian,” you smiled, returning to your normal voice before spinning on the heels of your feet and walking out of the hall. 

The second you were outside you let out a large sigh, you were in deep and there was no way anyone was coming out of this unscathed. Fuck. 


A/N: this is gonna be a mini-series so there’s gonna be more parts I promise!!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in it!

Fuel to Fire (intro)

Stucky x reader

Notes: fluff, tattooing, some angst, smut (m/m and m/m/f) 

Summary: Living their dream, Bucky and Steve run their tattoo shop ‘American Ink’ together, happily married for several years and business is going well. When a girl walks into their shop and inevitably into their lives right after they’ve received some exciting news, they have no idea how their lives are about to change with some harmless but straight-forward flirting. 

A/N: This is the introduction to the tattoo-shop AU, a Stucky x reader story that could be compared to my earlier series: Savages. I have no idea where this is going or how long it’s gonna be. I’m just gonna see where it takes me. 

“Buck-.. you think we’re gettin’ boring?” Steve muses, his arms behind his head, relaxing against his pillow as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Steve” Bucky groans, popping up somewhere below Steve’s belt, pushing his hair away from his eyes. “m’Tryin’ to suck your dick here, you mind?”

“I don’t, actually” Steve grins. “I was just thinkin’”

“Yeah. I know” Bucky shuts him up, pinching his husband’s side, earning a yelp in turn. “Stop it and let me suck your pretty cock”

“Baby, c’mon, hold on a minute, okay?” Steve pleads, putting on his best pouting face and big blue eyes.

Bucky groans, rolls off his husband, “Okay, okay. Stop with the eyes already. What’s on your mind?”

Keep reading

FaceTime Call

Series: Tom Holland Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You Facetime Tom after finding out from fans he cut his hair. Your phone was off while you were landing home from a flight.

Warnings: SWEARING LIKE ALWAYS :)

Word Count: 1,700+

A/N: 400 more till 3k!! I love you all so much :)

I turn 21 in 2 months c: Which means I can buy alcohol, meaning I CAN WRITE FREQUENT SMUT IF YOU GUYS WOULD LIKE CAUSE I LOVE SMUT


[Reader’s POV]


“So how was your trip?” Your mom asks happily through the phone. Reaching for your bag out of the carrier you tell her to hold on. Sometimes she calls you at the worst times. She onetime called you while Tom and you were having sex and wouldn’t stop calling till you picked up. Your mother was relentless sometimes.


“It went well mom, I’m just back to be in London” admitting the truth with a smile on your face. You loved it here because you got to live with the love of your life.


“How’s Tom doing? Anything new since Spider-Man Homecoming?” she absolutely adored Tom, she claims he’s the best you’ve had out of the guys you’ve dated.


“Yes he’’s actually working on another film, he’s been gone for two weeks while I was away as well so we’re both out and about” you explain as you walk down the plane aisle. You could hear her talking to your dad about Tom. Mentally wondering why she just doesn’t put you on speaker so he can hear too.


“Hey I’m going to go so I can focus okay? Plus Nikki is picking me up from the airport with Tessa”  Saying your goodbyes you hang up your phone. Slipping your phone into your purse you make your way out of the gate. The sound of your suitcase clicking against the bumps in the carpet.


   Walking past people to head towards the baggage claim. Looking at the time on your Apple Watch you walk a little faster. Nikki said she would be here at a certain time and you didn’t like making people wait. Turning the corner you go down the escalator descending to the baggage claim.


    Hearing a bark makes you search the crowd of people. A little grey blob pushes people out of the way. Nikki’s red hair standing out as she took off after Tessa. Opening your arms you get tackled by your favorite dog in the world. Her tongue laps at your face making you giggle.


“Tessa my love, I missed you so much” her body wiggling in your arms as you tried calming her down. People were looking at the interaction the two of you were having. Grabbing her leash you stand back up.


   Nikki opens her arms to you which you gladly take her hug. She gives the best hugs in the damn world. Letting you go she kisses both of your cheeks , she’s like a second mom. Tugging your free hand she pulls you along. She took your extra suitcase even though you tried to take it but she insisted. Leaving thankfully no one was outside, if Tom was with you it would have been a lot worse. He draws big crowds full of his loving fans.


“c’mon Tessa lets get in the car”  opening the door for her she jumps inside. Taking your backpack and purse off you set them on the floor of the car. You hear clicking sounds and turn around to see people with cameras.


    Getting in the car you close the door annoyed with the cameras. You don’t know how Tom does it all the time, it’s got to be truly exhausting having your every move watched. Even his family has to deal with it. Nikki tells you to ignore them and starts the car pulling out of the parking spot. Tessa jumps back onto the seat and lays down next to you.


   Smiling down at her you place your hand on her head. Your thumb stroking her head slowly to her ears and repeating it. Watching as her eyes closed from your touch. God you love her so much, probably more than Tom.


   Taking your phone out you see notifications pop up. Clicking on them you see Tom’s tweet and your heart stops. Going to his Instagram you see he hasn’t posted anything. Clicking on his tagged photos you see his fans posts. Scrolling through they’re all freaking about his Bye Bye Hair tweet.


   Exiting the Instagram app you open your messages and clicking on Tom’s name. Looking at the messages waiting for some sort of explanation. Typing and retyping the message you want to send. Normally he keeps you updated but he hasn’t said a damn thing. When he does that you start to feel like a fan yourself and freak out.


You:

So what’s with the tweet, care to spill the secret like you do with every Marvel secret?


    Locking your phone you know it’d be a while to get a message back if he was on set. The ride home was filled with conversation about your trip. The two of you talked as Tessa slept peacefully. Nikki told you stories about the boys and how mischievous they’ve been. She says Paddy has been getting into the sweets more and has grown a sweet tooth recently.


   Checking your phone you see there’s still no text back. You ask Nikki and she explains she has no clue. Apparently Tom hasn’t even told her which she thought was odd. You knew it was very odd because he’s such a momma’s boy.


   Nikki drops you off at Toms and helps you with your stuff. After you and Tessa are all settled she tells you to come over for dinner. Apparently Harry has been working on something and wants the family to see. He knew you were coming back into town so he told Nikki to tell you since you’re practically family.


   Hugging Nikki goodbye you shut the door behind her as she leaves. Picking your phone off the table you see notifications again. Some were from Harrison and your friends messaging you. The messages consisted of screenshots asking why Tom was cutting his hair.  Your thoughts get interrupted by your ringtone you made for Tom. It was him saying quackson.


Meme King:

C’mon angel don’t be like that, let me give you a call xx


   Rolling your eyes you connect your phone to the charger. Your phone starts ringing flashing ‘Meme King wants to FaceTime.’ Clicking the answer you see Tom relaxing with a hood on his head. Normally his curls peep out which make you narrow your eyes trying to see his curls. His smile distracting as he cheers happily to see your face.


“Ah there’s my beautiful girl, I’ve missed you darling” his voice making your heart ache, you miss him so much.


“Hey baby, I’ve missed you more..” you pout looking at him snuggle deeper into the couch. You could hear Harrison in the background talking. Tessa’s tags jingle as she jumps onto the L shaped couch.


“There’s my little one! I love you Tessa soooo much” Tom cooed into the screen making a kiss face.


“Tom so are you going to tell me what that tweet was about?” You ask turning the screen back to you. The seriousness in your face made his smile fall.


“I uh.. well I can’t keep it a secret from you anymore” He pulls the hood revealing his hair of cur.. there are no curls. Just short hair that he fixed with his hand. Your jaw dropping at the sight because last night you talked to him and all the curls were there.


“Christ, you don’t like it do you” Tom sits up fixing the angle he had the screen at. You were in shock because you haven’t seen Tom with short hair, the only pictures you’ve seen are from when he was little. Nikki likes to show you pictures from her archive whenever you see her.


“N-No baby, I’m just thrown off is all.. you look very handsome I’m just going to miss the curls” you give him a smile as you see his features relax. Did he really care that much about what you thought of his hair?


“I know how you like gripping onto them when I go down on you” he sighs tilting his head back. Your cheeks tinting pink from what he just said.


“Oi! I’m right here and you’re going to talk to her in front of me like that man? you two are like rabbits” Harrison’s voice fills your ears making you face palm yourself. God dammit Thomas.


“It’s the truth so now she has to wait for them to grow back” Tom defends himself laughing at his best friend. Harrison pops up behind Tom flipping you and him off.


“Awww Hazeroonie don’t be mad you don’t have a sex life” you tease sticking your tongue out. Harrison lets out a small scream taking off out of the frame.


“Okay yeah I’m definitely going to miss your curls now” you sigh thinking of the last time you two were alone together. Your thighs clamping together tightly at the thought.


“I’ll be home when I can love, I’ll FaceTime you every night till were together.. then when I’m home you can give me some personal FaceTime” his smirk making your heart rate pick up again.


“PLEASE GET A ROOM THOMAS” Tom’s head is then hit with a pillow causing him to drop his phone. In the background you hear the two getting into a little fist fight. Knowing them they’re going to sound like children any second with their banter.


“cut it out you twat I’m talking to my girl right now” Tom huffs after a slap sounds echoes through the air. The phone is kicked around making the room look like it’s spinning.


“Ow don’t pull my hair!” Harrison whines followed by a thud. Laughter filling the air making you sigh. These two were actual children.


   Tom picks up his phone that fell from before. Harrison says he’s going to the store leaving the two of you alone. The two of you talk about how long it will be till you see each other again. It was hard while he’s away but you really enjoyed these FaceTime calls. It was the only time you’d see him when he wasn’t busy and it made the wait worth it.

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