unrelated; bts highlight reel theory

This is just an idea I had after watching the recent highlight reel, it may be wrong it may be right, it’s worth trying! I just wanted to share my ideas. Feel free to comment your opinions.

My theory is that the girls represent their conscience. Whether it be burdened one, a guilty one, etc. The girls play a vital role in teaching the boys to love themselves, the overall theme of the comeback. You’re probably confused, allow me to explain further. 


He murdered his father, broke the law, was a troubled kid all together. The girl (his conscience) represents his guilty conscience. He tried to get rid of it, but doing the right thing (paying for the stuff she attempted to steal) but the girl still kept following her. 

Tae then realized that the only way to get rid of it, the only way to forgive himself, the only way to love himself, was to fess up to what he done and take responsibility. 

This is Tae, before he goes out to the cops to turn himself in, the girl doesn’t stop him, doesn’t talk him out of it, doesn’t chase him. Tae is letting go of his guilty conscience, he’s forgiving himself.

After he surrenders, we see no sign of the girl (his guilty conscience), its all relieved.


As we all know, the poor baby got into a horrid car accident. He seemed upset at that fact, mad at himself almost until he met the girl (his burdened conscience). 

We see him walking to a hospital room with flowers in his hand, and completely healed and happy. 

The burden the accident caused his physical body is relieved. He goes to the hospital room…

No more girl, no more burdened conscience. He forgave himself. He loves himself.


His mother abandoned him, which already weighs heavily on his conscience. He lets it out through dance, his passion, hence why the girl dances with him frequently. He’s struggling to forgive his mother and himself for the trauma.

This scene represents him on the road to accepting, thats why her eyes are closed and her body is limp, hes on the road to relieving the burdened conscience, but he isn’t completely there. 


We obviously see him oogling the girl a bit yeah? Well, what if he is trying to relive Hobi’s burden? We see him learn the dance they practice; maybe he wants to be there for Hobi. That’s why Jimin looks at the girl a lot; almost keeping Hobi’s conscience in check. When he injures her, It’s symbolism for him relieving Hobi’s burden, but he hurts himself in the process. 

Jimin sees Hobi running with the girl, and sees that he didn’t completely relieve it. Hobi is still suffering, he’s still carrying the weight of the incident on his back. Jimin probably blames himself for it, probably gives up, that’s why we see him turn back.


Surprisingly, his concept is a bit different but still plays into the story. Not a burdened conscience, but a reflection of whom he wants to be, what he strives for. He sees the girl and follows her, probably comparing himself to her. He carries a hair tie, now idk what this symbolizes really, but we see that he leaves it with her and leaves her alone. 

He gets off the bus, and hear we see him staring at the “im fine” writing. He realized hes good enough. He loves himself.


We see Yoongi with his piano in the first video, calm, with his conscience. He struggles with an addiction, smoking. The girl guides him through it, picks up his instrument, and holds a lolipop. The conscience telling him to focus on what’s important, music. 

Until that phone call.

We see Yoongi struggle, almost trying to run away from the girl. He probably recieved news of Jungkook’s accident, and refusing to believe the truth, or possibly feeling guilty for not being there for him. They were close, we saw their flashbacks. The conscience is almost trying to get him to accept the truth, that’s why we see Yoongi fighting with it.


This one I’m the most conflitced on, but it is a theory, so its okay! We see Jin struggle the least in these videos, therefore causes the lack of the girl’s prescence. That is, until he gets into the car and slowly is reminded of his friends, and becomes more and more unhappy as he reaches the girl (his burdened conscience). Jin reaches her, and when she attempts to come…

He is confronted by his burden. His guilt. Probably for not being there for his friends? For Jungkook especially. Not visiting, talking, or whatever. And  he’s completely reliving the guilt. 


In conclusion, all these stories are different ways and journey’s for people that come to love themselves. There is no, one path or one way, there are many ways and journeys you could talk. Lemme explain.

Taehyung- Whatever bad things you have done in the past, it is never too late to forgive yourself, to change, to love yourself.

Jhope- Even if people have done you wrong, even if people have betrayed you, you need to accept it in order to love yourself, ultimately not blaming yourself for their actions.

Jungkook- No matter what horrible things happen to you (accidents, you get paralyzed, injury, etc) You have to accept and forgive and love yourself in order to gather strength. 

Yoongi + Jin - Do not destroy yourself over not knowing something, not stopping something in time. You need to forgive.

Jimin- You can’t relieve someone’s pain, no matter how much you try. Their journey to acceptance and love is only for them to go on. 

Rap Monster- Comparing yourself to someone will only impair your path. Accept yourself for who you are. 

That’s my theory! Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think in the ask.

- Admin Nubbie’s friend

Teen!Dean Drabble #2

Characters:  Teen!Dean x Reader

Summary:  Dean’s first time

Warnings: sex

Originally posted by winter-hunters

Dean hesitates, his nerves getting the best of him. He has a feeling things are going to be going further with (Y/N) tonight. Things had been getting more hot and more heavy over the last few weeks.  

The last time (Y/N)’s parents were out for the night it had almost happened. They’d almost done it.

Dean decides he better play it safe, just in case. He listens to John in the shower - he’ll be in there a while. Sam’s at the library with his study group or chess club or whatever.

Dean quickly makes his way to John’s duffle and rifles through it until he finds what he’s looking for. He slips the shiny foil packet in his back pocket before slipping out the door.


He’s never done this before, but he’d never admit. (Y/N) has more experience than he does. Which makes him more nervous. What if he does it wrong? What if he - you know - blows his load early?

Dean tries to shove those nagging thoughts from his brain, focusing on being cool. On being collected. (Y/N) is straddling him on the blue and white checked couch in her parent’s living room. There are more important things to focus on at the moment.

He’s painfully aware of how his erection presses against the inside of the jeans. (Y/N) is grinding against him while they make out, his hands exploring her body. She tastes like sweet strawberries and it’s his favorite taste in the world.

Their kisses are sloppy and inexperienced, but it’s all consuming, the lust, the desire. Dean forgets his shyness and stops worrying about doing it wrong. He lets her guide him, listening to her body, following her movements, matching her.

(Y/N) pulls back from him, her cheeks pink. Her eyes sparkle, she’s so beautiful. “Dean, I want to…I’m ready…do you…do you have a condom?” she asks hesitantly.

Dean swallows hard and nods. (Y/N) stands and takes his hand shyly, leading him to her bedroom. Quickly, averting their eyes while also stealing glances, they strip their clothing.

Dean opens the small packet and rolls the contraceptive on. He’s never done this before and regrets not practicing. He plays it cool though, slipping into the covers as quickly as possible.

He feels jittery, half in disbelief that this actually happening. Dean covers his body with hers, propping himself up on either side of her. He worries that he might crush her with his larger frame.

He fumbles about for a moment before finding what he seeks. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself to go slow, not to seem too eager, not to move too fast.

And then he’s inside of her and he’s worried for a moment that he’s hurting her, because she makes this little sound he’s never heard before. When he moves, she makes more sounds, sounds that run right down his spine. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

It’s awkward and clumsy and sweet and right. Dean imagines this is what heaven feels like. To him, she’s perfect, for a brief moment he feels an emotion he’s unfamiliar with.  

He loses himself in her, she moves with him. He feels untethered, he feels free. His world expands, opening and unfurling, bringing him to a level of bliss he never thought possible.


Afterward, he lets himself be vulnerable. Maybe for the first time ever. He snuggles into her, kissing her skin, whispering in her ear.

All his life he’s been strong, he’s been in charge. He’s been thrust into roles he never asked for. He never lets his guard down.

But here, in the afterglow, he lets himself feel. It’s a pattern he’ll follow for the rest of his life, searching out women, making love to them, seeking comfort in their arms.

For a boy who grew up with so little tenderness, with so little simple affections and touch, this is almost better than the sex.  


Keep reading

This Is Us- Chapter 18

Operation Lard Head

Catch up on earlier chapters here Chapter 17, Chapter 16, All The Rest

There were moments when Jamie had to literally bite the inside of his cheek to stop the words I love you from slipping off his unguarded tongue.  

If it were up to him, he’d have married her the first morning he woke in her bed. Instinct warned him to go canny.  Claire never discussed her marriage or break up with Frank except in the broadest of terms and that worried him. Jamie sensed the struggle inside of her. He just didn’t know if she was wrestling with a broken heart or her own demons.

They had a couple months to plan, to dream, to just be. He wanted every single day of that time for them, to have her to himself, to become hers.

In the fall, Faith would be transitioning to preschool. Jamie knew that before they picked one that she’d be happy in, they would need have a plan to handle the public aspects of what was going to happen.

There was no question in his mind about amending the birth certificate and he didn’t think in Claire’s either. If anything their relationship solidified their unity of thought. The key point of decision lay in the timing. He delayed the discussion wanting them on solid ground as a couple first.

Claire thought she’d understood what being in the whirlwind of the press once more would be like. Jamie knew different. It was going to be like living in a fishbowl and, with no false modesty, he understood he was a big fish in a small Scottish pond.

For all its salacious aspects, the press coverage on her was relatively tame. She had been the flavor of the week with the press striking then moving on quickly. They might have come back around a few times smelling fresh meat but again, it was hit and run. Jamie garnered a certain amount of coverage all year round and there was no way to escape that fact.

Complicating matters, Slainte was picking up market share faster than projected. Jamie was facing considerable pressure to expand operations to meet demand.

A rival company, originating in France with a product name of Babbelas was attempting a run at Slainte. Jamie had Geneva and Geillis researching both its ingredients and following the money behind it’s development.

On top of that they were having some trouble ensuring consistency of vendor deliveries to keep production schedules as planned. The pressure cooker was about to heat up. He could feel it coming.

Jamie dragged his mind back to the conference room table where he was meeting with Murtagh, Fergus and the rest of creative.

“The concept tested well across nations in the focus groups.” Murtagh told him.

“I’m not surprised, ye did a good job, rehearsals tomorrow?” Jamie verified.

“Aye, we’ve plenty of space in the lunch area and it’s not too complicated. I’ll hold our wee camera, it’s not exactly commercial quality but good enough and we have a bit of editing software for a rough cut. I’ll be able to show you those by the end of the week in case we need to do any fine tuning. We booked the studio with their in-house crew directing and doing the sound for the top of next week. We’ve time enough to get it right before the pros take over.”

“Operation Lard Head?”

“I canna help it, the name just stuck.” Murtagh smiled.  


By mid-morning on the following day Jamie had already put out two fires, metaphorically speaking. Mrs. Fitz had been just as frantic as he and was giving him the old rolled eye from the inner window that let him look out onto the rest of the floor.

Now they were having a problem with their Osha supplier. It was one of the special herbal ingredients that made the product work so well.

But it was hard to grow in controlled settings and could only be cultivated in the wild in certain parts of Canada and the United States. Their last delivery was low, even  factoring the seasonal ebb they’d been warned about this month. If their next delivery produced similarly low numbers, they would end up short during this critical production period.

Jamie’d spent the last twenty minutes trying to chase down the head of the supply company that was giving him the runaround. He left messages three places offering to meet in person.

Half the team was working on tracking down an alternative Osha supply but right at the moment, this man was his only source of supply. The rehearsals were scheduled to begin in a half an hour and that had been occupying the rest of the team.   

Jamie’s skin prickled just then and he looked up completely astonished to see Claire, coat half on, cheeks red with exertion, Faith in tow, striding around the corner with Faith’s purple backpack in hand. Mrs. Fitz was just about to launch into gatekeeper mode when he leaned his head out of the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” He called out as he reached out to hoist Faith up and ushered Claire through his door, closing it firmly on Mrs. Fitz’s openly curious stare.

Faith gave him a loud smack on the lips in greeting and he smiled even as he checked her out. She seemed fine to him.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry. I know, I wasn’t scheduled to go in today and the daycare is closed for a professional development day. But a man I operated on two days ago needs to go back under It’s a tricky procedure. I really have to be there. The Crookes just left to go visit their daughter. I misplaced my phone and couldn’t call you in advance—-”

He put Faith down on the floor and his arms around her.  “Shhh,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead and hugged her briefly.

“It’s fine, Sassenach.” Jamie wasn’t sure how he would reorganize his day, but there was nothing else to be done.

“I know it’s dreadful timing. I feel awful about just dropping in like this. I packed a few toys, her iPad and a lunch.”  Claire apologized again.

“Go, we’ll make do. Tend to yer duties.” He reassured her, smiling down at Faith, “the lassie and I will be fine won’t we mo nighean?” Faith nodded up at her Da with an answering smile of her own.

The last thing Claire needed was to expend precious time and energy worrying about him or Faith. She needed to focus on her surgery, especially if it was delicate enough they’d called her in on her day off.

Claire reminded Faith to be a good girl as Jamie opened the door to let her go. She kissed his cheek with another word of thanks and started down the hall. She brushed by Geneva on her way called out rushed hellos and disappeared around the corner.

Mrs Fitz was just about to launch into the third degree when Geneva cut her off, striding into Jamie’s office.  

“Is Claire ok?” She asked puzzled at seeing Dr. Beauchamp at Slainte.

She’d thought Jamie was dating her but he’d never said as much and she hadn’t seen Claire since Quarter Day.

Her eyes spotted Faith standing a little behind Jamie.

“Oh, goodness, what a pretty girl. Is she Claire’s?”

“Aye.” Jamie said, it wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth.

“She is really quite impressive, isn’t she?  It’s a bit intimidating knowing there are women like Claire in the world. I can barely get out of my own way most days and she is a doctor and a mother? Well, she at least gives me hope that it can be done!” Geneva smiled as did Jamie. Geneva was crazy for children, always had been.  

Geneva knelt down on the carpet in front of her.

“I’m Geneva, what’s your name?”


“That’s a lovely name. How—–”

Jamie wanted to cut off the cross examination from his legal eagle and interrupted the conversational flow.

“Did ye need something Eva?” Geneva was momentarily distracted but did look up, suddenly remembering that she had come in on a mission. She reluctantly rose to her feet.

“Yes, actually, the Osha supplier says he’ll meet with you but he’s got a plane to catch later today and he’ll be out of Scotland for the next month. You’ll need to leave in fifteen or twenty minutes to get to him on time.”

Iffrin!” Jamie exclaimed.

“I know but at least I convinced him to meet with you before he left. We still don’t have Geillis’s analysis of the Babbelas product. The interruptions in deliveries might be unrelated, but if they are squeezing the market, we have to be prepared. You already know how difficult it is to find reliable sources for it. We have to keep our current supplier happy.” Geneva smiled with some sympathy as Jamie ran his hand roughly through his hair.

“Aye, Eva, I thank ye for setting it up. I’ll let you get back to your day.”

This was a very pointed dismissal and Geneva could not ignore the command. She gave one last lingering look at Faith and went back to her own office.

Well, no help for it, ten minutes later, Jamie dropped Faith off with Ian.

“Uncan!” Faith exclaimed, wide grin of greeting.

“Neath!” He gathered her in a huge hug.

Murtagh was passing by as Faith started chanting Da, Da, Da.  He quickly looked over his shoulder as Angus and Rupert rounded the corner and scooped Faith up to distract her while Jamie extracted himself and made ready to leave.

“MurTagh, Tagh, Tagh, lass.” he said emphatically, hoping to disguise her vocalizations as Jamie walked out of the office. He needn’t have bothered as Angus and Rupert were wrapped up in an argument over who was going to say which lines.


The group had made good progress running through the various ads targeting the expansion into European markets through the United LQ deal inked earlier in the year. Murtagh was reluctant to continue going over lines.

Angus was a natural, not giving a care to the presence of the camera but Rupert was clearly not comfortable in front of a lens. He would look at the camera in such a way that made the viewer acutely aware that he was ACTING! That wouldn’t do at all.

In order to break Rupert of his self-consciousness, Murtagh decided to project the feed onto two monitors mounted in the lunch area so they could see themselves and just let them talk as they normally would, no thought to the camera. He hoped it would desensitize the experience for Rupert.  

Rupert had dressed in jeans and a dark green Slainte t-shirt.

Angus, on the other hand, collected off beat t-shirts and today’s choice was a brown tee that read:

All Mushrooms Are Edible…Once.

This one courtesy of MoTown Mushrooms, a small specialty farm in Vermont.

The two of them were arguing the finer points of why Spongebob looked like a kitchen sponge even though his parents had been free form sea sponges resembling  loofahs.

“I’m just saying it’s a recessive gene, that’s all, like a bairn having blue eyes even when the parents dinna have them.” Rupert was explaining.

Behind him, Murtagh heard a sharp cry of alarm and then Ian’s unmistakable gait as he hurried along the wood floor toward Jamie’s office.

Remembering that Faith was their unexpected guest for the afternoon, Murtagh left the camera rolling on it’s tripod and pivoted to lend a hand.

“Here, Mrs. Fitz, let me just wrap the towel and hold tight, wee bit of pressure.” Ian was saying as he wrapped the hand in a kitchen towel and held it up and over her head for her.

Murtagh saw Mrs. Fitz sitting in her office chair with long faint streaks of blood running from hand to wrist.

“What’s amiss?” he asked.

“The letter opener, the one shaped like a dirk?” Glenna was saying, her eyes still wide and pain-filled. “It’s as sharp as a wee stabbie, slipped and cut my palm.”

Several minutes passed and still they couldn’t stem the bleeding. By this point Faith had come out of Ian’s office to see what was happening.

“I think we need to take her to the clinic, she’ll need stitches.” Ian confirmed as he lowered the dish towel the third time to verify that the bleeding wan’t stopping.

“My auto is a stick shift. I don’t think I can manage to—”

“No, dinna fash, Glenna, Ian will drive ye there and then take ye home in his car, we’ll get yours to you later tonight when we check on ye at home.” Murtagh kissed her cheek lightly. “I’ll tell Himself what happened. Ian I’ve got Faith, ‘tween Fergus and me she’ll be fine. Just make sure Glenna is seen to, aye?”

And with that, they managed to gather Glenna’s belongings up and get her down to the parking area and off to the clinic.

When Murtagh returned Egg Head and Lard Bucket had moved on to discuss the relative merits of Scottish industry in the world.

Fergus, pragmatic to the core, decided he couldn’t be two places at once. He needed to be in the lunch area observing the dynamic duo, taking notes, catching anything they said that might be used in later ads and needing to tend to the lass.

Well, so. The lass was hungry, she had a lunch box, they had a lunch area, he needed to be in the lunch area ergo….He and Faith sat a bit to the side at a small table  slightly off-camera. Geneva had just placed her lunch on the same table and was moving the chair out to sit down to join them. Faith was sitting on a few large directories, a makeshift booster seat but just as captivated by the entertainment in front of her as everyone else.  

In fact, now that he’d taken the time to notice, Murtagh could see several other people from the company engaged in similar activities of eating and smiling along with Angus and Rupert as they bantered with one another.  

Angus was moving his hands about as he interjected, “and I’m saying thanks to Scotland, the world has whisky, penicillin and insulin, telephones and faxes, golf and bicycles, postage stamps, television, the steam engine and—–” his voice rose up in dramatic tones, “the cure for the common hangover!”

“Weel, so we do but that’s mostly self defense.  Did you know we hold the record for the longest running hangover in the world?” Rupert informed him.

“Go on wi’ ye?” Angus wasn’t actually surprised by this fact.

“Lasted four weeks.” Rupert confirmed. “Ken, it seems as if we do have a lot of words for drunk in Scotland.”

“Ye think ye have good recall of them?” Angus had a familiar, speculative gleam in his eye.

“Better than you!” Rupert confirmed, just warming up. Doing this sober would make for a change.

“Oh? Let’s hear it then, I’ll give ye a fiver if ye can break my record of 30.” Angus bet but then added, “Pub conditions, aye? Thirty seconds, no repeats and in alphabetical order.”

Rupert grunted. He moved his head from side to side, cracking his neck. The lunchroom was crowded with colleagues drawn by the internal feed from the monitors and money was starting to change hands along the sidelines.

Angus looked at him, “Ready?” Rupert nodded. “Ok, 3, 2, 1 go!”

“Badgered, banjaxed, bladdered, bleezin’, blootered, buckled, cabbaged, goosed, guttered, hawf-cut, hammered, lashed, leathered, mangled, minced, mingin’, oot yer tree, pished as a fart, rat arsed, reekin’, rubbered, sloshed, steaming, stocious, tanked up, warped, wasted, wellied.”

The crowd broke into cheers and applause.

“Oh, 28– too bad ye just missed it.” Angus announced.

A smattering of nos! And money changing hands once again, a reckoning for the winners and losers in the crowd.

Rupert had worked up a sweat but his competitive spirit was awakened.

“Two for one ye cannot do better.” Rupert challenged.

“Yer on. Prepare to weep, my lad. Ready?” Angus widened his stance, danced a little like a boxer entering the ring.

“Without repeating any of mine.” Rupert reminded him.  

“Like I need to use yours? Ok and….Go: awa wi it, Bernard Langered,  disguised, etched, fecked, foo, footered, howlin’, legless,  jaiked up, mad wae it, mashed, minkit, monkey full, mortal, nicely irrigated, oot the game, pie-eyed, paralytic, pickled, plastered, rendered, ruined, stewed, stottin, steamboats, tooteroo, torry-ed, tramlined, troubled,  zombied!” A huge cheer broke out. Angus had defended his crown matching his record!

Rupert laughed and congratulated him. They pulled up two chairs, still on camera and sat down.

It was clear Rupert had long since forgotten about the lens and was perfectly at home now. He pulled out a ten, handing it and a cold can of Slainte to Angus.

At this Rupert tapped his can of Slainte against Angus’s and said, “Slanj!”

Angus pulled his can back last minute.

“Oi! Whatcha doing? Ye don’t say slanj that’s what a bawheeded twonk or an Englishman on holiday says!” He looked truly put out.

“Stop being a tosser!” Rupert retorted.

“I mean it. If yer no’ going to say it right I’m no going to stand wi’ ye on the telly.” Angus declared.

“Christ man, the wheels turnin’ but the hamster’s long deid.” Rupert shook his head.

“It’s slahn-ja-va, no’ slanj. And ye put the accent on the wrong end!” Angus insisted.

“Ye witless bawbag, that’s what I said, slanj.” Rupert went again to clink the soda cans.

“Have ye no pride, man? That’s no’ a proper toast, and ye dinna ken how to clink the can proper either.” Angus was disgusted.

“Yer being a twatwaffle.” Rupert told him.

“Ye clink the top of the can and the bottom of the can for a proper toast.” Angus informed him.

“Says who?” Rupert was genuinely curious.

“Me granny, that’s who. Always, tops and bottoms. Even with the wine glasses. Like so–” at this Angus demonstrated, clinking first the top rim and then the bottom of the can and repeating, “Tops and bottoms! Now, you give ‘er a go.” He encouraged.

Rupert looked askance at him. Angus nodded and Rupert drew in a breath.

“Aye, weel, as Homer Simpson says,

‘To alcohol! The cause of – and solution to – all of life’s problems.’”

Then Rupert tentatively reached his can over to Angus and clinked, “Tops and bottoms!”

“Hey– that’s no’ good. Ye need a better toast than that!” Angus admonished.

“Why?” Rupert asked to Angus’s deep sigh.

Angus shook his head so the back of his hair swung free of its thong. He cleared his throat and held up his can, seeing others gathered at the tables raise their drinks to join in the toast.

“He is not drunk, who from the floor,

Can rise again and drink some more;

But he is drunk who prostrate lies,

And cannot drink, and cannot rise!

Tops and bottoms!”

At that he got many around the room clinking tops and bottoms of their improvised drinks be they in glasses and cans and bottles.  Rupert was grinning, enjoying the opportunity to watch Angus in his element, and stone cold sober at that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rupert saw Faith tentatively approach with her juice box in hand. He smiled at her.

Murtagh was about to run forward and pull her back, though what he would do with her he didn’t know, everyone else was gathered in the lunchroom and, no fool Faith, she wanted to be near the action.

He let out a small cry of alarm when Geillis reached her hand out to him from behind. He hadn’t even heard her approach. She was carrying a thick folder, no doubt some kind of analytic report for Jamie.  

“Whose child is that?” She asked staring. “I swear I have seen that hair before.” This said in a speculative tone.

“Ah, that is Faith, she’s Claire’s daughter. Claire had an emergency and Jamie offered to cover but he’s meeting with the Osha supplier.” Fergus supplied from behind them.

They all stood round the camera watching the monitors. Some people are naturally more photogenic through a lens, Murtagh thought, and Faith was luminous.

Her pink cheeks and bright green jumper set her skin and hair off beautifully. Every eye was on her and the conversational hum of the room seemed to quiet.

“Oh, apple?” Rupert was asking Faith as she held up the box for his inspection.

Rupert gently touched his can to her juice box, “Cheers!”

He made to clink tops and bottoms with her, Faith complied but had an odd look on her face.

“That’s no’ what my Da says.” Faith informed him.

Murtagh felt his heart literally stop in his chest. Praying that Rupert would be his usual un-curious self he chanted please dinna ask in his head over and over.

It was now completely silent in the room.

“Oh?” Rupert’s only response.

“He says lang time deid.” Faith announced.

“Aye, lass that’s an old one, right enough.” Angus put in just as Faith reached her juice out to tap Rupert’s can once more.

Just then Angus let out an enormous burp, surprising Rupert into releasing the loudest fart Murtagh had ever heard. Both sounds amplified by the microphones they were still wearing.

Not missing a beat a tiny, delighted voice squeaked out into the silence.

“Tops and bottoms!”

To the raucous delight of the crowd who all toasted that one.

“What the hell are ye doing!” Jamie hissed from right behind Murtagh causing the man to jump ten feet off the ground in fright.

Were his compatriots at Slainte trying to give him a heart attack?

Murtagh noticed that Jamie hadn’t yet registered Geillis’s presence, and he wasn’t sure whether Jamie had noticed how packed the lunch area was.

Murtagh quickly grabbed his arm,  nodding in an exaggerated way at Fergus indicating he needed to corral Faith as quickly as possible, as he shoved Jamie out of the doorway and back toward his office.

Jamie backed down as soon as he saw Fergus moving toward Faith and allowed himself to be borne back. When they were safely in his office, with Faith and the door closed, Murtagh filled him in on what had happened with Mrs. Fitz and Ian.

“The truth is I wasna focused on the wee lassie, Angus and Rupert had gotten going and it was like the floor show at a Vegas casino. Everyone was caught up in it.”

“I ken, it’s fine, Murtagh.” There was no point in getting upset. Jamie sat Faith on his lap and pulled out some sticky notes and colored pencils for her to play with while she sat with him at his desk.

“Even if some suspect, and I don’t why anyone would, no one here would breathe a word. They are loyal, we are a family.” Fergus reminded them.

Jamie looked one to the other.

“It will come out anyway, at some point. My only concern is that Claire feel herself ready for it, that it no’ come as a surprise. She had some bad experiences before with press.” Jamie explained.

“She is right to be concerned.” Fergus agreed. “It could make things hard for Faith in school or with friends.” Seeing Jamie’s stricken face he quickly added, “But she’ll adjust with time and be fine.”

Just then Geillis knocked on the door, Jamie beckoned her in with a wave of his hand as he nodded for Murtagh and Fergus to go, thanking them for watching her.

Geillis rarely sat for meetings and this one was no exception. She dropped the folder on his desk and began pacing but her sharp eyes watched as he took in the contents of her report.  

“Not a duplicate of our formula.” He observed.

“True, I think the combination of herbs is quite standard but there is an ingredient that I can’t unmask. The analysis isn’t exact, it breaks things down but doesn’t necessarily tell me each combination that made up the formula they are using.”

“Our Osha supplier swears he isna selling to them, do ye believe him?” Jamie asked.

Geillis laughed, “I wasn’t there, you were, you tell me?”

Jamie gestured to the report, “According to this, the answer is no.”

“Not for that specific product. But you can buy an ingredient and compound the raw material with another and create something that masks itself in the testing.”

She looked thoughtfully at him. “But you know, if you wanted to, you could interfere with the supply chain of a competitor just for the hell of it. What would stop someone from buying it up to choke off availability and just holding it for a time, disrupting the production of a competitor even if they themselves don’t need the ingredient? They can create chaos and later on can resell the product if they don’t need it to recoup the money they spent, meanwhile their competition is weakened.”

“Christ, ye are a devious wee thing!” Jamie said, not without admiration. “And if ye wanted to pay them back in kind, what would ye do?”

“I would hit them sideways, but not in the way you are thinking.” She said.

He raised his brows.

“They will expect it, you see. And to be honest, based on my testing there is nothing unique or even proprietary about their formula. It would be a waste of time and money to try and create a similar problem for them. You need to find a different pressure point.” She mused. “What has Geneva dug up on them?”

“Nothing yet, she’s still chasing the subcorps down through Nevis and the Caymans. There are several layers of subsidiaries to peel away.” Jamie was frustrated.

“No one is that good at hiding, something will turn up. In the meantime, we need to focus on ensuring our suppliers are delivering on time and in the amounts we need. I can reformulate a little bit using what we have on hand without impacting effectiveness, the taste might be a little different but not enough that a normal consumer would notice.” She offered.

“Do what ye can.” Jamie decided, taking another look through the report.  Geillis’s back was to him, looking over the floor.  

Just then Faith piped up, “Park?” Jamie half heard her. “Pease?”

“Hmm? Aye, mo nighean. Let me just finish up.” He said distractedly.

Geillis half turned to him, “Shall I leave you to it?”  

“Aye, thank ye, Geillie, I’ll catch up wi’ ye tomorrow.” Jamie said as he maneuvered around Faith to return the folder to Geillis as she was exiting the door.

Jamie had to fire off a few emails, update Geneva on his conversations with the vendor and return a half dozen calls, one of which was to Ian. He had just dropped Glenna off at home, four stitches and some pain meds but she was feeling fine. Geneva and Fergus offered to take care of Glenna’s car.  Everything else he needed to tend to could wait until tomorrow.

“Ready, lass?” He asked as soon as Faith had finished packing everything back in her bag.

“Yes, Da! Park and ducks!” She urged, pulling him along by his hand.

Light Up the Dark

As promised, a Rowaelin one shot smut piece for you. I appreciate all feedback - this is the first time I’ve written smut so hopefully it’s not the worst thing you ever read.

Thank you to @paperbacktrash who continues to be my rock and Beta Bitch - I love you, soul sista.

@rowan-buzzard-whitethorn and @tragically-broken asked to be tagged… Here you are!


Aelin couldn’t breathe. No, not this again. Please no.

The iron coffin was suffocating and the darkness of the box weighed her down, pressing against her chest, making it difficult to gasp in much needed breath. Her magic flickered out, she was utterly trapped.

She thrashed wildly and pushed against the lid of the box. It gave a little and she cried out in triumph as a sliver of light rushed in. Her arms faltered against the weight and she was shut in the dark again. She lashed out with her fists and felt her knuckles split. Blood poured down her arms, too much, too fast. The coffin started filling with blood, a reeking stench she was all too familiar with. She pressed herself as close to the coffin door as she could, trying to keep her head above the blood. She sucked in a last breath and was dragged under by pale hands, Maeve’s hands.

She registered shouting from afar, a voice so dear to her she almost wept in relief. The darkness was chased away by the light, death chased away by such brilliant and magnificent life.

Aelin opened her eyes and she was met with her mates’ own pine-green ones. His brow was furrowed with concern and she registered he was on top of her, holding his weight off with one arm while the other traced featherlight strokes down her face.

She leaned into his touch and breathed his scent deep, letting it wash away the terror. Letting his whole being wash over her, reminding her that she was free and would spend the rest of her days waking up with Rowan, never again to be locked and stolen away.

“I’ll always pull you out of the dark, Fireheart.”

Aelin pulled him closer and she placed a shaking hand against his face, right over the tattoo he bore of his past grief. She traced the words lightly and his eyes slipped closed and he hummed softly in response.

“You chase away my demons when I’m awake, it’s only fitting you do it while I’m asleep.” She whispered, with less bravado then she had hoped.

Rowan, thank the gods, chuckled despite her uncertainty. “To whatever end,” he whispered nuzzling his nose against hers.

“To whatever end,” Aelin agreed, the strength of their promise to each other grounding her.

He opened his eyes and his desire was blazing enough that he could have been blessed by Mala himself. He rolled his hips against her and she felt him. Immediately, her blood heated and her magic awoke. An icy wind lazily caressed her neck, her back, soothing her fire.

She arched her back in response, a low moan slipping from between her lips. It broke Rowan’s control; so like the moan all those years ago, when she was keeping those fires burning at Mistward, at a time when he couldn’t act on those desires.

He snarled in response and captured her mouth with his, crushing his lips against hers. Aelin pulled Rowan closer, his body fully covering hers. Their magic played together, taunting and teasing as their kisses grew more savage, full of burning need.

Rowan pulled Aelin up and settled on his knees, holding her against him as his teeth grazed her lip, she shivered in response and leaned into him, running her tongue over his bottom lip. He ripped her nightgown off, the silken material shredding apart.

Aelin made to protest but Rowan cut her off, “it wasn’t gold anyways.” Aelin’s core turned molten and she pushed Rowan back down and climbed on top of him. “It’s a good thing you’re already naked, Buzzard.”

Rowan groaned as he ran his hands up her waist, and cupped a breast, fingering her nipple. Aelin gasped and leaned forward, running her tongue up his chest. She kissed the spot between his neck and shoulder and gently bit down, claiming him. Rowan rolled her back onto her back, barely restraining himself and kissed and nipped her neck and moved to kiss her collarbone.

Aelin pushed her chest against him and Rowan smirked, gazing up at her through his lashes, his hair flopping over his eyes, still mussed from sleep. Aelin could have burned through the bedding, burned through the bed and the stone beneath itself, for the wicked promise gleaming in his eyes.

Rowan captured her breast with his teeth and gently tugged. She whimpered as she pushed on, begging for more. He covered her nipple with his mouth, tonguing it as he rolled her other nipple between his fingers. As he removed his mouth, he sent a kiss of icy wind breezing over her and her nipple peaked and she shivered in response. “Rowan…” she begged, her fingers twining in his hair, pulling him back up to her.

Aelin licked up the column of his throat before taking his mouth again, her elongated canines brushing against his lip, she pulled his lip with her teeth and Rowan shuddered. His tongue brushed into her mouth, teasing hers. He pulled back again and started kissing down her chest, down her stomach before nipping at her hip bone. She raised her hips in response and Rowan snarled in appreciation.

Rowan trailed his tongue from one hip to the other and nipped her other hip, following it with a soothing kiss. He grabbed one of her legs and settled it on his shoulder before spreading the other leg to the side. Aelin’s breathing became more labored as Rowan’s head dipped lower and as he kissed and nipped her upper thigh, before kissing just above her core.

Rowan ran his tongue lower, over her centre and Aelin gasped with a jerk of her hips. One of Rowan’s hands came up to press against her lower abdomen, to hold her still as he unleashed himself on her. Aelin ran her fingers through his hair, tugging softly like she knew he liked and tried, tried to resist bucking her hips. “Rowan…” she gasped out, her hips jerking on their own accord. Rowan hummed deep in his throat as he continued to feast on her. He slipped a finger inside of her, massaging her and she felt herself approaching that cliff, the heat building and the sensation filling her, shaking her to her very core.

He sucked on her centre, pulling ever so gently on it and Aelin freefell. There was no end and no beginning, only her and Rowan and the depth of emotions and sensations she felt through their bond.

Rowan pulled back, setting her legs back on their bed before he kissed his way back up to her face. Aelin was flushed – that primal part of Rowan snarled in satisfaction as he beheld his sated mate, her hair disheveled and her eyes, the golden rings sparkling so bright he could have sworn her flames danced through them.

Rowan settled between her legs and Aelin pulled him closer to her, close enough for him to be nudging against her entrance. Aelin’s eyes flashed with desire. Would she ever get enough of her mate? She wrapped her legs around his backside and ever so slightly nudged him forward. Rowan groaned before sheathing himself to the hilt in one go. Aelin gasped out and fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her, biting at his lip and moaning against his mouth.

Rowan groaned as he paused let her adjust to the sudden fullness, her hands pulled the fine strands of his hair in urgency and he slowly drew back before driving back into Aelin, clamping his teeth over the soft spot between her neck and shoulder, not stopping this time as he claimed her, in that purely male way of his. Aelin’s legs wrapped around Rowan as she titled her hips to meet his thrusts, moans of desire mixed in with his name ripping from her mouth.

His mouth claimed hers again and he continued to move, the tempo precise but smooth, and easy. “You are mine.” He growled against her lips. The restraint snapped and Rowan knew, despite her nightmare, she wasn’t breakable, she didn’t need to be coddled and he hauled Aelin up against his chest, standing up and lifting her, hardly breaking rhythm.

He pushed Aelin’s back against the wall, and drove back into her, and Aelin’s nails dug into his back as she held on, unable, unwilling to let go. This, this was what she needed. Rowan was her tether. Rowan would bring her home, always, no matter what hell she was trapped in.

Pleasure rippled through Aelin again, and a helpless sound of need slipped out. Fire licked across her skin, Rowan’s ice soothing and taming the flames and Rowan’s mouth clamped down over one of her nipples, and Aelin went past words.

There was only feeling and their bond as she catapulted over the edge again. It was being-altering, world-ending, this joining of mates. And as Aelin came back to claim her other senses, Rowan let go too, and they didn’t break eye contact as he emptied himself into her. He shuddered against her, finally ducking his head into her shoulder, gasping for breath, needing that moment to pull himself together. Aelin stroked his neck, whispering those three cherished, soothing words, “I love you.”

Rowan met her eyes again and then kissed her nose, softly, before setting her down by her waist. She folded herself in his arms and he tucked her close.

“This is an extraordinary life that I never imagined being able to have. Let alone imagine you, being real. Being alive. Being here, safe with me. I know you don’t need my protection, you proved that time and time again. But I will always, always endeavor to protect you anyways.” Rowan kissed the top of her head and Aelin pulled back, her eyes searching his for some hint that he knew.

His eyes softened as she surveyed him and she grabbed one of his hands and splayed it across her stomach, “Would you mind extending that protection to another?”

Love yourself highlight reel: Jhope + Jimin theory

Okay so bighit managed to yet again get us all confucked 

But i have a theory regarding Jimin’s and Hoseok’s story. Based on the latest highlight reel, it kinda seemed to me that the girl might represent as Jimin’s alter ego. It’s no secret that the aura, when the camera is on Jhope (and the girl), is quite happy and lively; while when on Jimin, it gets dark and miserable. The major theme of this concept is ‘i’m fine save me’, which makes me believe more that the girl is Jimin’s ‘happy’ side that he may show J-hope. 

Most of the time when a person is depressed they don’t like to show or talk about it to anyone, not even the closest to them, not even when they’re internally screaming for help. That was Jimin’s case, he was always watching the girl with Hobi – quietly observing her. I think he was dissociate, feeling like the ‘happy’ side was another person, like he was looking from the outside. And looking at her was making him even more miserable.

“Afraid to be loved for who I am” that was the narration before we get the scene where Hobi and the girl were dancing together and the scene of Jimin dancing the same routine alone in the same but dark room. I think Jimin believes that Hobi only loves his happy and ‘pretty’ side, he thinks Jhope won’t be able to love his dark and ugly side too, the side that even he hasn’t accepted himself yet.

The scene where Jimin and the girl dance and he hurts her (accidentally or not). His ‘dark’ side might be consuming him, having enough of his happy pretend. Well, based on this theory, they’re the same person so when he ‘hurt her’, he actually hurt himself. Which may represent as the cry for help. And this did alarm Jhope that something was wrong and tried to save her/him. 

Well, might have overanalyzed a bit but you never really know with Bighit hmm. Anyways our boys did greattt as always


This is a one shot/ vignette for my This Ends Tonight story.

I can’t write this as a complete and linear story. I have been writing a lot of pieces for this in the form of vignettes or snapshots. Every one takes place with Ivar and his wife in bed at the end of a given day, recounting something that happened between them on whichever given day, It is all completely out of order but it is just what feels best for this story.

Warnings: language 

 Let me tell you a story about a story that I got more than halfway written and then lost and then rewrote then lost again all in the same day because of this stupid tablet and then obsessed over for like 12 hours. I could not find the end so I shall just end it for my own sanity. I don’t know why this was so hard. I must purge it. 

Aisling sat perched at the end of the make shift bed. Eyes heavy with lust, she watched as her husband stripped off his gore soaked armor. Though wounded and covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat, and the blood of his enemies, she couldn’t help but think that he had never looked so beautiful.

Ivar winced as he pulled the blood stained tunic up and over his head. The sparse candlelight reflected off the canvas walls of the tent, casting a warm glow over his bruised skin. Admiring the rippling of muscle in his chest and arms, she smiled and hummed a sound of approval. Smirking, he lifting his head from the wash basin and caught his wife’s hungry appraisal.

“You’re staring again, wife"

“Aye, but I cannot help it.” she mewled in response. Reclining back on her elbows, she bit her lip and unabashedly let her eyes roam up and down his body.

Studying her face and noticing how glassy her eyes were, Ivar cocked a brow in question.“Are you drunk, woman?”

“Hmmm…Maybe a little.” she giggled.

Ivar tutted and gave his wife a look of mock disapproval before balling up his discarded tunic and playfully flinging it at her. He had aimed for her face, but his aim was too high. Despite being thoroughly buzzed from the mead, Aisling’s arm shot up and caught it effortlessly. Pressing it to her nose, she inhaled deeply and clutched the blood stained clothing to her chest as if it were a precious gift, smiling like a fool.“Seeing you out there on the battlefield today. I wanted to touch myself right there on that hill in front of the Gods and everybody. I am sure that those Saxons would have enjoyed having such a site be their last before being sent to meet their God. Don’t you think so?”

Ivar rolled his eyes, “You’re ridiculous, wife, and you’re also a terrible liar, you know that?

“And you are beautiful, husband. You looked like a God out there today. I would have let you take me right there in the mud like an animal, surrounded by all those dying men. Why don’t you forget about washing and just come over here and fuck me already?”

Ivar shook his head and gave his wife a stern look. Dipping a cloth into the scented water and using the surface reflection, he thoughtfully gazed into the bowl and scrubbed at the blood smeared on his face and neck.  The flickering light and shadows being cast in the tent were not enough to mask the blush that had arisen in his cheeks. Rolling onto her stomach, Aisling whimpered and rolled her hips into the mattress suggestively.

“Stop that.” 

“But I need you and I need you right now, husband.” 

“Odin, just how much did you have to drink today woman?” he scoffed.

Narrowing her eyes, she rolled the garment up and sent it sailing across the tent. Her aim was as good as her reflexes, and it landed with a splash right in the steaming bowl on her husband’s lap.The water sloshed over the sides, soaking into the fabric of his breeches and spilling onto the dirt floor. The burning sensation caused him to clench his teeth and hiss in pain. Pushing his tongue into his cheek, he just stared at the mess in front of himself, shaking his head and laughing dryly. He felt his blood beginning to rise and cut his eyes at his wife, but upon seeing her face, his irritation quickly melted away.

She sat with her knees to her chest, both hands clapped over her mouth. The dying light in the tent also doing nothing to cover the flush now arisen in her cheeks as she tried to muffle her giddy laughter.


His dear sweet wife. Whenever Ivar was having a bad day or was in one of his moods, she so often was able to bring a smile to his lips. On the days when the stress and pain tried to get the better of him, she would refuse to let him sit around drinking and brooding. Doing whatever she could to lighten his mood and coax the laughter from him. It was one of the many reasons he had allowed her to accompany him on this journey. Aside from the fact that he couldn’t bare another long summer without her, she was his anchor. When the demons he harbored inside threatened to consume him and he felt himself growing too weak to resist them anymore, the strong hold she held on his heart would keep them at bay. The love she had for him kept him just on the right side of sanity.

His queen would like to have people believe that she was every bit as cruel as he, that she hated the Christians, that she was viking. But he knew her better than that. She was a Dane, sure, but his wife was no viking. She was inherently good and kind. She was everything he was not and he didn’t mind her light balancing out his darkness. He loved her for it and it was why their marriage worked. He knew she had had her fill of war and death long before they came together. He saw it in her eyes when he had asked her to come, she had wanted to say no but agreed anyways. She knew that he needed her and hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. He saw right through the strong front she presented. His wife found no beauty or enjoyment in watching people get slaughtered. All that morning leading up to the battle, she had sat on a log with a far away look in her eye. If he hadn’t been otherwise preoccupied, he might have noticed the cup never leaving her hands.


Looking at her husband’s perturbed face, Aisling couldn’t help it and fell over onto her side, erupting in laughter.

Ivar made sure to keep his face hard set as he set the bowl aside and slid from the wooden stool to the wet ground. Forgoing his crutches, he slowly crawled towards the bed, his eyes locked on her like a magnet. When he finally reached the bed and grabbed a hold of the mattress to pull himself up, she laughed and moved to roll away, but his hand shot out and took hold of her ankle. Aisling squealed and he tightened his grip, smiling up at her wickedly. “You think that was funny? Hmm?“

“Yes, a little.” She giggled, kicking and pulling her leg, trying to free herself from his hold.She was stronger than she looked and wrestling with her, he felt himself tiring fast. His body was weak and his muscles were sore from battle. Having become so dependent on his crutches, he wasn’t entirely sure he could even pull himself onto the bed from this position. “Woman, stop kicking and help me up or so help me I will drag your ass right down here to the ground with me.”

“Ooh, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Moving closer, she took his face in her hands and pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling back and giggling like an idiot, kicking and resuming her struggle with a renewed energy.

Giving up, he released her ankle and sighed, pressing his forehead against the mattress.“Aisling, please.”

“Oh, begging becomes you quite nicely, husband.“ she teased, leaning forward and stroking her fingers through his hair. Having taken the plaits out, it was tangled and matted with dried blood and dirt. She picked a clump of something that she hoped was mud but could possibly be tissue out of his hair and flicked it aside, curling her lip in disgust.“You know what, on second thought maybe you should finish washing.”

“Aisling.” he warned.

“Ivar.” she echoed.

“You’re a terrible wife.”

“I am not. I am a wonderful wife and you love me.” She smiled and continued raking her fingers through his hair. Ivar closed his eyes and leaned into her caress. She brushed his hair back behind his ears and tracing over the scar on this cheek with her fingertip.“I was so scared today, I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.“Oh, I’m sure you would mourn for the requisite amount of time before taking Hvitserk as your bed slave.” he smirked, his eyes bright with amusement.“Hmm, I think I quite like that idea.” she beamed, “I mean, who else would do a better job at consoling me than our dear Hvitserk?” 

”That isn’t funny, wife.” 

“You don’t think so?” 

“Not at all.” 

“Why wait for tragedy to strike, didn’t Ubbe once share a wife wife with dear Hvitserk?”

“Can you stop calling him ‘dear Hvitserk’?”

“Why are you jealous?”


@synnersaint @ivars-heathen @burningsunshin3 @belle-scarre@rachiieee@nothingbuthappydays @badbitsh13@persephone-is-here-omg @sebastian-stans-thighs @siren-kitten-his@imaginesparadise@tiyetiye@theheathenqueendickubus@brightlycoloredteacups@dangerousvikings @bethy-sue@lunarbear93 @maskedpenman


Hey friends. I wrote another Anti thing. I hope you like it :)

(I’m just goona low key tag a few people here: @ego-protection-squad @chase-brody-protection-squad @magic-marvin-protection-patrol @jackieboy-man-support-squad @jacks-support-group @therealjacksepticeye @therealantijacksepticeye and @cyndaquil17 cause I really like that you liked the other one enough to send me an ask <3)

This one is dark like the other one. I think have some tissues set aside. You may need ‘em?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If a Shawn girlfriend does not care what situations you think he's talking about and showing her? For example, if they ask in interviews or during q&a what you think he's going to tell? And I always thought that when fans meet and see her on the street, in the hotel or in the arena, they will want to talk and take pictures like they do with his family. I would find it very strange if was me but I would not deny it for fear of appearing arrogant. what do you think?

I also think that depends on how we end up treating her. Sadly - as I’ve talked about before -  I think Shawn’s future girlfriend is going to get hate. I think there are going to be fans who is going to call her names and treat her disrespectful and if it’s enough for Shawn to notice, I think he’s going to keep her for himself. If we - as fans - treat her badly or say rude things about her to the point where it’s affection her or noticable, Shawn isn’t going to share that part of his life with us because she will be more important and her feelings will be more important. 

I wish everyone would treat her with respect whether or not you end up liking the girl he dates and if we all do, I think he would be more open about the relationship. If we were genuinely curious and interested in her, I think he’d answer a few questions or talk about her. Of course, there’s always going to be things he’s going to keep from us when it comes to her. Shawn isn’t going to share everything at all but maybe we’ll get some not that intimate details about her and he will talk about the songs he wrote for her or what kind of dates they usually go on or who does the laundry at home. Things like that, you know?

Again, that depends a lot on the girl. If she isn’t famous already, I think she’d find it rather strange having to take picture with fans but I also believe that Shawn would let her choose what she was comfortable with. If she didn’t feel comfortable with taking picture, I’m sure Shawn would make sure that didn’t happen, you know? He’d put Jake close to her and make sure she wasn’t put in any sort of situation she wasn’t okay with. I’d hope people would understand that because how would be feel if it was us? Personally, I wouldn’t want to take part in it if I was dating someone famous because they’re the once who are and I’m not. I’ll always just be me and nothing else and if that’s how his girlfriend felt, Shawn would 100% support that. 

Rtte Season 5

Okay but imagine the gang fighting for a long time trying to tame the wild volcano, and they take turns, like in groups so they don’t get wore down to quickly. So Hiccup and Astrid eventually have to take a break and are sitting there all out of breath and such, and Hiccup apologizes for “Being a bad boyfriend” and “Not spending enough time with her” and beats himself up and Astrid stops him and tells him not only is he a great boyfriend, but leader. That would be so great! ❤️😍


He gave me 19 caps and then ascended to heaven. 


Frank genuinely smiling because of Karen.


Bellarke Week - Day 6: AU
▶ Post-Praimfaya: Bellamy gets drunk and hallucinates Clarke.


Daisy Johnson in Agents of SHIELD: ‘What If…’

i know we always talk about kravitz having to ask to raven queen to give lup and barry a pass too for being liches but uh imagine krav stressing for approximately 1 second before lup is all “don’t worry i got this” and within the day she comes back, is now working with the raven queen as a reaper to pay her debt and “to finally be a real goth”