and i really like this idea that is around of names meanings

anonymous asked:

Hey sweetie, i know you are a hard iwaoi shipper. But, what do you think abou BokuIwa, i've been roleplaying this ship around two months and i really love them.

Huhu!
Ohhh two strong boys!! Nice nice!!

Ahh yeah..tbh…I mean you named it already…I’m a hard iwaoi shipper and as such I really have difficults to see them with anyone else but each other. Sometimes I like the idea of them with Kuroo..but then it’s mostly in either a platonic way or in a 3tp.
I do though really like the idea of Bokuto and Iwa hanging out and being close friends ( I have this in my hip hop au) but tbh I don’t ship them…cause as said: die hard Iwaoi shipper here!!

Ahh it’s great that you enjoy roleplaying this! I wish you fun and all the best!

The real Taylor Swift:

April 23rd 2009-July 10th 2010: The Fearless Tour

The Fearless Tour. Taylor decided to walk through the crowds at her shows, greeting fans of all ages, genders and races because SHE wanted to meet the fans that had been supporting her and helping her reach where she is to this day. After each show, Taylor held a meet and greet called ‘The T-Party’. This was a room where fans could go to eat pizza and meet each other and get to know other people and then get to meet Taylor. Taylor would walk around stadiums and hide behind food bars and then surprise fans in the line. Each night she would walk a number of miles to meet as many people as she could.

February 9th 2011-March 18th 2012: The Speak Now Tour

Much like at the Fearless Tour, Taylor said she wanted to continue walking through the crowds during one of her songs at the Speak Now Tour. Taylor hugged as many people as she could and thanked them for coming. Sometimes Taylor would tell her security to move out of the way and to let her hug more people. Taylor continued her ‘T-Party’ meet and greet. Taylor’s team would walk to different areas of the stadium during the show and hand out free meet and greets to fans who had gone all-out; screaming and dancing the whole time and wearing bold and creative costumes/handmade posters.

September 8th 2012: Ronan

The lyrics to this song are based on a blog she read about a four-year-old boy, Ronan Thompson, who died from neuroblastoma in 2011.Taylor wrote the song by putting together quotes from blog creator Maya Thompson, Ronan’s mother. Thompson is credited as a co-writer of the song. Taylor first performed the song live for Stand Up to Cancer in September 2012, and has only performed it publicly one other time, at the Glendale, Arizona stop of The 1989 World Tour, at which Ronan’s mother was in the audience. All proceeds from sales of the single go to help fight cancer.

2014: 1989 Secret Sessions

In anticipation of the release of her album, 1989 on October 27, Taylor held a series of “1989 Secret Sessions” over the past few weeks at her various homes across America, where carefully-selected fans were told they were attending some sort of secret event, with no knowledge of what was in store for them. When fans arrived they were told to sit in a room together and wait. Taylor then jumped out and surprised them all and they all got to hear her new album before anyone else. Taylor baked cookies and other goods, fans got to meet Taylor’s cat, Olivia Benson Swift, and they danced together and each got to meet Taylor and just hang out.

May 5th 2015-December 12th 2015: The 1989 Tour

At each 1989 concert, before perfoming her song ‘clean’, Taylor gave a 3-4 minute inspirational speech, telling fans to love themselves. This is what Taylor said to the crowd of 60,000 at Hyde Park, London on June 272015: ‘There are people here from all over the world, so if you travelled to be here, thank you so much for coming. And, you know, looking out at you, thinking about the fact that we all come from different places, maybe we all have different accents, we have different hobbies, different backgrounds, whatever. But there’s one thing that we have in common that I know for sure. That thing is that when we feel a great amount of joy, or a great amount of pain, we turn to music. That’s why we’re all at Hyde Park tonight. From talking to you so much, and getting to know you, it’s never been more apparent to me how difficult it is to feel okay about yourself in 2015. Real talk. I mean, every single day we go online – and trust me, I love the internet, okay? Love it – but, every day we go online and we scroll through the highlight reel of other people’s awesome lives. But we don’t see the highlight reel of our awesome lives – all we see is the behind the scenes. We see every single moment, from when we wake up and we’re like “oh, God, not feeling my hair today. Not going to be a good day today for the hair”. We see our doubts, we see our fears, we see our concerns. You are the only one who is inside your brain feeling all of your anxieties and the voices who are telling you that you can’t be who you want to be, or that you’re not who you want to be, or that you want to be more like that other person over there. Let me tell you, people are mean to each other, but no voice is as mean as our own voices are to ourselves. Is it true or is it false? It’s true, right? Okay, so if there’s one thing that you come away from this night remembering, I want it to be this – every day when you look in the mirror, and your mind is telling you all the things you are not – if those things are that you’re not cool enough, you’re not pretty enough, you’re not popular enough, you’re not successful enough, you’re not special, you’re not wanted, you’re not unique – those are not the things you are not. Let me tell you the things you are not. Okay? You are not somebody else’s opinion. That’s what you’re not. You are not going nowhere just because you’re not where you want to be yet. You are not damaged goods just because you have made mistakes in your life. Those are the things you are not. Let me tell you the things that you are. Would you like to hear the things that you are? You are your own definition of beautiful, and worthwhile, and no one else’s definition. You are wiser, stronger, and smarter because you made mistakes in your life, not damaged. And lastly, London, England, you are someone who is probably standing here tonight going through your own battles, fighting your own ghosts, trying to cover your own scars, stressing about your own stresses. But, rather than wallowing in them, you got up, you put on an awesome outfit, and now we’re all standing here together having the best time of our lives at a concert on a Saturday night. I realise that it’s not about being perfect, it’s not about feeling perfect. I think that sometimes it’s just about getting on with things and realising that you’re happy today. That’s all that matters. I just want you to know that one thing I have learned in 25 years, and I’m still learning, is that if you get rained on, you walk through a bunch of storms, life is constantly coming at you – that doesn’t make you damaged. It makes you clean.’


May 5th 2015-December 12th 2015: The 1989 Tour (Loft 89)

At Taylor’s 1989 concerts, she held a meet and greet called ‘Loft 89′ where Taylor, again, could hang out with her fans and dance around with them. Taylor met lots of different people including children with disabilities and illnesses. Taylor made sure everyone had a great time and that everyone was included and treated equally.

Christmas 2014/2015: ‘Swiftmas’

Taylor Swift surprised 13-year-old fan Delaney Clements who was diagnosed with neuroblastoma at the age of seven. Delaney, who is a massive fan of the 26-year-old singer started a campaign to meet Taylor called #TaylorMeetDelaney and on Saturday (19th December) her wish came true. Taylor surprised the family by turning up unannounced and the afternoon was captured on Instagram and Facebook with Delaney and her Mum posting photos. Taylor became so into the idea of ‘Swiftmas’ that she also sent a number of other fans packages of merch and other little presents.

Award acceptance speeches

To any award acceptance speech, there is always something directed to Taylor’s fans. Taylor thanks her fans for everything because she knows that we are such a big part of her life and she wouldnt be where she is now without us.

A very important quote Taylor has said:

Long story short: Taylor is one of those few artists who does nothing but good for her fans and everyone around her yet she gets body shamed and name called everywhere. It really does break my heart. 

Taylor has been there for me through everything and I know that she always will be because she has never failed to make us all smile and to make us all feel better about ourselves, She has made me feel loved and wanted and she has introduced me to some of my bestest friends ever. To me, Taylor Swift is not just an artist, she’s my best friend.

@taylorswift

Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

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

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

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

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

The Dos and Don’ts of Beginning a Novel:  An Illustrated Guide

I’ve had a lot of asks lately for how to begin a book (or how not to), so here’s a post on my general rules of thumb for story openers and first chapters!  

Please note, these are incredibly broad generalizations;  if you think an opener is right for you, and your beta readers like it, there’s a good chance it’s A-OK.  When it comes to writing, one size does not fit all.  (Also note that this is for serious writers who are interested in improving their craft and/or professional publication, so kindly refrain from the obligatory handful of comments saying “umm, screw this, write however you want!!”)

So without further ado, let’s jump into it!

Don’t: 

1.  Open with a dream. 

“Just when Mary Sue was sure she’d disappear down the gullet of the monstrous, winged pig, she woke up bathed in sweat in her own bedroom.”

What?  So that entire winged pig confrontation took place in a dream and amounts to nothing?  I feel so cheated! 

Okay, not too many people open their novels with monstrous swine, but you get the idea:  false openings of any kind tend to make the reader feel as though you’ve wasted their time, and don’t usually jump into more meaty action of the story quickly enough.  It makes your opening feel lethargic and can leave your audience yawning.

Speaking of… 

2.  Open with a character waking up.  

This feels familiar to most of us, but unless your character is waking up to a zombie attack or an alien invasion, it’s generally a pretty easy recipe to get your story to drag.

No one picks a book to hear how your character brushes their teeth in the morning or what they’d like to have for dinner.  As a general rule of thumb, we read to explore things we wouldn’t otherwise get to experience.  And cussing out the alarm clock is not one of them.  

Granted, there are exceptions if your writing is exceptionally engaging, but in most cases it just sets a slow pace that will bore you and your reader to death and probably cause you to lose interest in your book within the first ten pages.  

3.  Bombard with exposition.  

Literary characters aren’t DeviantArt OCs.  And the best way to convey a character is not, in my experience, to devote the first ten pages to describing their physical appearance, personality, and backstory.  Develop your characters, and make sure their fully fleshed out – my tips on how to do so here – but you don’t need to dump all that on the reader before they have any reason to care about them.  Let the reader get to know the character gradually, learn about them, and fall in love with them as they would a person:  a little bit at a time.   

This is iffy when world building is involved, but even then it works best when the delivery feels organic and in tune with the book’s overall tone.  Think the opening of the Hobbit or Good Omens.

4.  Take yourself too seriously.

Your opener (and your novel in general) doesn’t need to be intellectually pretentious, nor is intellectual pretense the hallmark of good literature.  Good literature is, generally speaking, engaging, well-written, and enjoyable.  That’s it.  

So don’t concern yourself with creating a poetic masterpiece of an opening line/first chapter.  Just make one that’s – you guessed it – engaging, well-written, and enjoyable. 

5.  Be unintentionally hilarious.

Utilizing humor in your opening line is awesome, but check yourself to make sure your readers aren’t laughing for all the wrong reasons (this is another reason why betas are important.)  

These examples of the worst opening lines in published literature will show you what I mean – and possibly serve as a pleasant confidence booster as well: 

“As the dark and mysterious stranger approached, Angela bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fiber of her being that this would be the one man who would understand – who would take her away from all this – and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as all the others had.”

– Ali Kawashima

“She sipped her latte gracefully, unaware of the milk foam droplets building on her mustache, which was not the peachy-fine baby fuzz that Nordic girls might have, but a really dense, dark, hirsute lip-lining row of fur common to southern Mediterranean ladies nearing menopause, and winked at the obviously charmed Spaniard at the next table.”

– Jeanne Villa

“As I gardened, gazing towards the autumnal sky, I longed to run my finger through the trail of mucus left by a single speckled slug – innocuously thrusting past my rhododendrons – and in feeling that warm slime, be swept back to planet Alderon, back into the tentacles of the alien who loved me.”

– Mary E. Patrick

“Before they met, his heart was a frozen block of ice, scarred by the skate blades of broken relationships, then she came along and like a beautiful Zamboni flooded his heart with warmth, scraped away the ugly slushy bits, and dumped them in the empty parking lot of his soul.”

– Howie McClennon

If these can get published, so can you.

Do:

1.  You know that one really interesting scene you’re itching to write?  Start with that.

Momentum is an important thing in storytelling.  If you set a fast, infectious beat, you and your reader will be itching to dance along with it.  

Similarly, slow, drowsy openers tend to lead to slow, drowsy stories that will put you both to sleep.

I see a lot of posts joking about “that awkward moment when you sit down to write but don’t know how to get to that one scene you actually wanted to write about.”  Write that scene!  If it’s at all possible, start off with it.  If not, there are still ways you can build your story around the scenes you actually want to write.

Keep in mind:  if you’re bored, your reader will almost certainly be bored as well.  So write what you want to write.  Write what makes you excited.  Don’t hold off until later, when it “really gets good.”  Odds are, the reader will not wait around that long, and you’re way more likely to become disillusioned with your story and quit.  If a scene is dragging, cut it out.  Burn bridges, find a way around.  Live, dammit. 

2.  Engage the reader.

There are several ways to go about this.  You can use wit and levity, you can present a question, and you can immerse the reader into the world you’ve created.  Just remember to do so with subtlety, and don’t try too hard;  believe me, it shows.  

Here are some of my personal favorite examples of engaging opening lines: 

“In the beginning, the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move." 

– Douglas Adams, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

"It was the day my grandmother exploded.”

– Iain Banks, Crow Road.

“A white Pomeranian named Fluffy flew out of the a fifth-floor window in Panna, which was a grand-new building with the painter’s scaffolding still around it. Fluffy screamed.”

– Vikram Chandra, Sacred Games.

See what I’m saying?  They pull you in and do not let go.

3.  Introduce us to a main character (but do it right.)

“Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

– Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

This is one of my favorite literary openings of all time, because right off the bat we know almost everything we need to know about Shadow’s character (i.e. that he’s rugged, pragmatic, and loving.)   

Also note that it doesn’t tell us everything about Shadow:  it presents questions that make us want to read more.  How did Shadow get into prison?  When will he get out?  Will he reunite with his wife?  There’s also more details about Shadow slowly sprinkled in throughout the book, about his past, personality, and physical appearance.  This makes him feel more real and rounded as a character, and doesn’t pull the reader out of the story.

Obviously, I’m not saying you should rip off American Gods.  You don’t even need to include a hooker eating a guy with her cooch if you don’t want to.  

But this, and other successful openers, will give you just enough information about the main character to get the story started;  rarely any good comes from infodumping, and allowing your reader to get to know your character gradually will make them feel more real.   

4.  Learn from the greats.

My list of my favorite opening lines (and why I love them) is right here.

5.  Keep moving.  

The toughest part of being a writer is that it’s a rare and glorious occasion when you’re actually satisfied with something you write.  And to add another layer of complication, what you like best probably won’t be what your readers will like best. 

If you refuse to keep moving until you have the perfect first chapter, you will never write anything beyond your first chapter.  

Set a plan, and stick to it:  having a daily/weekly word or page goal can be extremely helpful, especially when you’re starting out.  Plotting is a lifesaver (some of my favorite posts on how to do so here, here, and here.)

Keep writing, keep moving, and rewrite later.  If you stay in one place for too long, you’ll never keep going. 

Best of luck, and happy writing.  <3

Consider a fantasy story where, as often seems to happen in this genre, a young human is pulled from their world into a world of magic and elves and wizards and prophecies.

But this happens just about every other Tuesday in this world because the resident soothsayer is a little trigger-happy and is spouting off prophecies left and right. So there’s been an influx of teenaged humans without adult supervision and the reigning queen had to set up an investigative bureau and a complaints department just to deal with this problem.


So our human protagonist finds themselves in a dark spooky forest, stuck in some kind of ewok-style trap. Along comes a bearded elf (don’t tease him about the beard, he’s trying to make a good impression on the dwarf lady in charge of his department) who looks up at the net, sighs, and out comes the paperwork.


“If you wouldn’t mind, please state your name, age, and how you came to this realm.”


“How what now?”


“What was it? Wardrobe? Magic portal? Dragged under the bed by trolls?”


“Um…I just woke up here?” They mumble, confused.


“Alrighty,” the elf flips a few pages. “We’ll just skip to section D then. Any inherent magic? Any strange inheritances received lately?”


“No?” The protagonist leans on the net. “I mean, my former roommate gave me their old David Bowie CD collection, but I don’t think that counts.”


The elf nods once or twice, hard to tell if he’s listening or not, and pencils a few things in. “Alright, we’re almost done with the preliminary stuff, then we can get you out of there and down to the Bureau so we can get you home. Current status of parents or parental figures?”


The protagonist cringes. “Um…not applicable, I guess.”


“Oh dear. And your age again is-?”


“Er…fourteen?”


At this the elf sighs. “Oh no, not another one. Some days I’d like to shake some sense into that soothsayer, really, I would. I swear I am this close to setting myself up as the next evil wizard around here just so I can keep some of these would-be heroes out of trouble.”


He then flings his pencil, sharp as a knife, and down comes the net with Protagonist inside. The elf helps them to their feet and brushes the leaves off their shoulders.

“Alright then, you,” he grumbles, “Lets get you down to the Bureau with the other three prophecy-kids who turned up this week.”

He has so much paperwork to do now.

The Wayne Family Reads Mean Tweets

Bruce
@jtodd: Bruce Wayne could stand to lose a few pounds and stop eating his kids cookies

@tdrake: Does @BruceWayne adopt children or collect them?

@therealwayneheir: Everytime I turn around Bruce Wayne has a new kid, does he not love his real son?

@FlyingDick: BRUCE WAYNE IS MEAN

@hackerbabs: Last week at a gala @BruceWayne frantically asked Commissioner Gordon to borrow his handcuffs then disappeared for the rest of the night #50shadesofwayne

@lukefoxxx: Bruce Wayne has the IQ of a grilled cheese sandwich

Bruce sighs.

Dick
@tdrake: I’m pretty sure that @FlyingDick gave as much thought to his Twitter handle as he did to that mullet he had a few years back.

@RadicalRebel: Dick Grayson looks like the kind of guy you want to be friends with until you meet him.

@teatam: I once saw Dick Grayson date 5 different redheads in one week #easyD #gingeraddict

Tim
@jtodd: I want to punch Tim Drake-Wayne in his man bun wearing head.

@Coffeecollective: Tim Drake Wayne looks like death warmed over in a Kerig #Idstilldrinkhim #takeafuckinsipbabes

@therealwayneheir: If I could push Tim Drake down the stairs and get away with it, I would. In fact I still might.

@inaflash: Tim Drake looks like the last time he slept was roughly 40 years ago. #getsomesleep

Tim looks over his shoulder, “Steph why are you here you’re not a Wayne.”

"NEITHER ARE YOU! Let me read a tweet”

@SpoilerAlert: I bet Tim Drake is the kind of guy you want to date and then he turns out to be the wooorst and like falls asleep during a date while on a ferris wheel

“Wow, that’s not specific at all…”

Cassandra
@stayoutofgotham: Cassandra Cain looks like she could kill me with her pinky toe… and I’d let her.

@SpoilerAlert: One time Cass Cain kicked my ass. It was hot.

@MetropolisRulez: I’m pretty sure Cassandra Cain is a stuck up bitch. Have you ever seen her smile at anyone outside her family.

Cass looks directly into the camera and flips it off with a big smile on her face. Bruce comes in and turns the camera away from her. You can hear him saying “Dick why did you convince me this was a good idea? Damian’s taking his knives out and Cass is too good for this.”

Jason
@xmenrock: Jason Todd looks like he got beat up in high school and then put on 50 pounds of muscle to compensate

@MrJay: Didn’t Jason Todd die? Can we make that happen again?

@tdrake: Jason Todd’s thighs™

Wait… Tim Tweeted that?

@harpersarrow: I’d let Jason Todd smother me with his thick ass thighs. #thickthighssavelives

Jason winks

Damian
@tdrake: Damian Wayne looks like his name sake from The Omen. Like did Bruce Wayne know his son was gonna be a psychopath?

@jtodd: Damian Wayne doesn’t lift #youresmallbro

@itsduke: Damian Wayne must take after his dad, except instead of people he collects animals… since people can’t stand to be around him

 Bruce comes into the studio and hauls Damian over his shoulder. You can hear Jason say, “Wow you really are small D, do you even lift?”

Written with the help of the always amazing @smokesforwolves

I Gift to You

@restlessandordinary OKAY, two things. One, I had this idea in my head and it is probably WAY different than you originally planned. Sorry about that. Two, this is later than I told you I would get it out. Sorry about that. Three, if you’ve got an AO3, I would like to have it so that I can gift this to you, since it is longer than a normal drabble and can stand as a oneshot. 

————————————————————————–


               The first time it happened, Draco swore it was just a slip up. He wouldn’t do it again. Nope. Potter certainly didn’t deserve his generosity. Because that was exactly what this was. People didn’t give him enough credit when it came to being nice.

               It’s just that the sight of the eleven-year-old in glasses that weren’t fitting his face, were horribly old, fading in color and just not aesthetically pleasing, had him wanting to rectify this travesty immediately. This wasn’t because he cared or anything. Nope. This was doing everyone else a favor. Really. It benefited society by no one having to see the hideous specs.

               Draco timed it perfectly. He knew that Potter tended to spend longer eating than everyone else. Certainly, longer than Weasley. The redhead inhaled food quicker than he did air. So, when Potter was about to leave for his morning class, Draco signaled the school owl that he had trained to wait for his mark. It took weeks to train the bloody bird. The only problem was that the bird was now attached to him. Which hadn’t been previously intended. At least the owl had proper taste.

               The brown barn owl swooped down, catching the attention of a few stragglers but otherwise the notice was limited.

               Confusion was the first expression that Draco could make out. He knew that the Gryffindor probably wondered why his snowy owl hadn’t delivered the mail, but the boy was too curious to not open it. Not exactly the smartest thing to do but that was just his own suspicious nature coming forward.

               The confusion quickly bled into shock before a genuinely pleased glint appeared in the brunette’s eyes.

               Instructions had been placed in the package, because Draco knew that intelligence was the reason the reckless idiot hadn’t been placed into Ravenclaw. The glasses were charmed to stay on his face until the wearer wished them off. They would mold to the user’s needs, whether the eye sight got worse with age or not. Not to mention, the frames would change to match the user’s outfit, ensuring that they remain elegant at all times. Which was a deal breaker in his opinion.

               Draco’s resolve to allow this to be a brief moment of weakness and a onetime instance, shattered at the flush on Potter’s face and a shy grin flickered on the Gryffindor’s lips.

               Salazar, this wasn’t supposed to happen. The git wasn’t allowed to make him feel like this. Draco Lucius Malfoy doesn’t do sappy feelings.

               Angrily, Draco made his way swiftly towards the entrance, inwardly cursing Potter’s existence. It wasn’t until he almost reached the door that he heard Longbottom’s question.

               “Oh, wow. Those are pretty expensive. Who sent them to you?”

               “No idea.” Potter’s tone was a little awed. “The note just says, ‘To fix your face, finally’.”

 —————————————————————-

               Draco was determined that the second time still be counted as a slip up. This wasn’t going to be a regular thing. Nope. Not at all. Because that was just silly. Draco Lucius Malfoy doesn’t do nice things for other people. Especially to Potter.

               Unfortunately, the delivery was not as well timed as last year’s gift. The other two members of the Idiotic Trio were still around.

               He watched his the school owl struggle to carry the packages and it caused a twinge of guilt inside Draco. He couldn’t trust any other owls to do the job, so the bird would have to do it alone.

               When Potter looked to the owl, it was clear that he recognized the bird. The Gryffindor reached out a hand to softly pet the owl before opening the packages with gusto.

               Draco couldn’t hear what was going on from where he sat, but he could tell that the other boy had gasped. It was the way the eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open slowly. Which was a great reaction so far. He knew that his gift would mean something. Not that he cared about that.

               The silence was killing him. He needed to know what was being said. Draco slowly made to the end of the table, pretending that he was listening to a few of his housemate’s conversations before using that as a reason to go a different route towards the exit.

               Just as he passed, he caught the beginning of Weasley’s questions.

               “What is it? Why would someone send you books full of scribbles?”

               Draco rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. Scribbles. That one actually hurt.

               “It’s not scribbles, Ron!” Granger corrected. “I think it’s in Parseltongue.”

               “It is.” Potter whispered, fingers running over the title of the first book. Behind the Wonders of Parseltongue Volume I: The History of the Snake Language and Why it’s a Blessing and Not a Curse.

               “Why do you think they sent it?” Weasley asked, eyeing the book warily.

               “To send me a message.” Answered Potter, placing the book in his lap, only to pick up the second one. Behind the Wonders ofParseltongue Volume II: The Astonishing Accomplishments that Parseltongue has Brought to the World.

               “What message? Because they think you are Slytherin’s Heir?”

               Draco wasn’t going to even bother coming up with a mental reply for that one.

               “No.” Potter shook his head. “So that I can love all parts of me. Even the ones that are perceived as evil.”

               The insight had Draco fighting off a flush. That was not his intention… not exactly. He just hated the thought of others degrading Potter’s ability just because they don’t understand it. There is nothing wrong with being a Parselmouth. It wasn’t dark, vile or even evil.

               “Does the note say who it’s from?” There was suspicion in Granger’s tone, which had Draco scoffing internally. If he had wanted to harm Potter, he would have. It’s not like the brunette even spell checks the gifts. Which was actually pretty moronic, but that was just Draco’s thought on the matter.

               “No, it just says, ‘To learn something, for once’.”

 ————————————————————–

               The evidence against this being a onetime incident was becoming a reach, even in Draco’s own mind. But that was beside the point.

               So far, this would probably be his worst idea yet. This was getting rather personal… but he couldn’t allow this year to continue with the mass hysteria that everyone walked around with. Not when it was a farce to begin with.

               This time, he chose to have Russet—not that he named the infernal bird—deliver the gift during a nighttime study session the Idiotic Trio were having in the Library.

               When a light scratching drew Potter’s attention to the window next to him, Draco stepped into the shadows of an alcove.

               “Oh, it’s you.” Potter’s voice took a happy glint to it.

               Draco watched him rip of the packaging and freeze. This was a normal reaction, but he just hoped that the brunette wouldn’t become angry.

               News clippings, articles posted in obscure news outlets, court records and even statements made by the accused where staring up at Potter.

               He watched Potter’s brow furrow slightly with each passing minute until he was full blown frowning as each parchment was leafed through.

               “Hermione!” Potter whisper yelled as his voice cracked.

               “What? What is it? Oh, your anonymous friend sent you something?” Granger hadn’t looked up from her book on Medieval Flobberworms and Why They Were the Downfall of Mermish Society, as she walked down the aisle.

               “Hermione, can the Wizengamot sentence someone to Azkaban without a trial?”

               That caused Granger to peer up at him in confusion. “No, it violates several laws and is illegal.”

               Potter thrusted all of the articles harshly as Weasley came around the other side of the table and read over their shoulders.

               “Oh.” Granger whispered, blinking rapidly. “This isn’t good.”

               “Black is innocent, isn’t he?” There was a miserable confusion in Potter’s tone. But Draco couldn’t have admitted that he knew from his father that Black truly hadn’t been a Death Eater, without revealing sources.

               “Let me guess.” Weasley began sarcastically. “There’s no signature?”

               “Just a note that says, ‘To provide the proof that has always been there, idiot’.”

 ———————————————————-

Keep reading

Five Seconds (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: When you confessed to Richie, you got the expected response, but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less. Not even a week later he decides to talk to you, not so subtly jealous about you spending time with Ben. Things sort of…escalate from there.

Warnings: Cussing and Kissing. (oh no, not kissing! *parents screaming, children crying, Ohio catches on fire*) This is a request. DON’T HESITATE TO SEND IN REQUESTS. (Don’t send in like 50 tho. I still need sleep.)

Word Count: 1,697


“Can I t-talk to you.”

Richie stops laughing at Stan and, still giggling, turns to you. “Yeah, what’s up?”

You glance over Richie’s shoulder to see Beverly shoot you a thumbs up. “I’ve been, well- It was Beverly’s idea! But for a while now…” You stumbled over words, trying to soften the embarrassing blow of ‘I have a crush on you’.

“I like you!” You blurt, deciding to get it over with. “I l-like you as more than a friend.”

There’s a moment of silence in which you count the seconds that painfully tick by.

One. Richie’s mouth opens and closes, you can see his eyes dart to the other boys. They’re whooping and hollering, pushing him and giggling like idiots.

Two. You can feel the headrush hit you hard, along with waves of nausea.

Three. Teasing smiles stay on the boys’ faces, but Beverly’s melts off. She knows. She knows what’s going to happen.

Four. Richie’s ears turn fire hydrant red as you grow pale and faint. His eyes once again scan the boys, who continue to tease without mercy. You close your eyes, wishing they’d stop. There would be nothing to celebrate.

Five. “I’m s-sorry…”

Keep reading

Driving Miss Daisy

Star Wars’s Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver dish on the epic franchise and beyond in V Magazine.

“I had no sense of what I was getting into. No sense of what was really going to happen,” confesses Daisy Ridley of her first-ever role as Rey in 2015’s Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Currently, Ridley is on location in a remote forest a few hours outside of Montreal for Chaos Walking, a 2019 sci-fi release costarring Tom Holland. But it’s this December’s Star Wars: The Last Jedi, the follow-up to The Force Awakens, that is shining a blinding light-saber-tinged spotlight on Ridley. The Force Awakens was the first movie since 1997’s Titanic to sell more than 100 million tickets in the U.S. 

It isn’t typical for a young actress’s breakthrough film to have the biggest domestic opening weekend in history, raking in $238 million, but Ridley isn’t all that typical herself. As the face of the nearly $10 billion franchise, Ridley has ushered in a new era of Star Wars. Following Carrie Fisher’s untimely passing last year, Ridley’s character, a fiercely independent heroine, serves as a particularly strong female voice in a galaxy far, far away. However, a far- flung galaxy isn’t Ridley’s only on-screen locale this season. 

In November, Ridley appears opposite Johnny Depp and an all-star cast in Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express. The suspenseful tale follows 13 passengers, played by the likes of Penélope Cruz, Judi Dench, and Willem Dafoe, stranded on an opulent passenger train with a murderer on the loose. Aside from blockbuster films, Ridley also produced and narrated the documentary The Eagle Huntress, which follows a teenage girl in the mountains of Mongolia as she becomes the first female eagle huntress in the sport’s 2,000-year history. 

Ahead of The Last Jedi’s release, Ridley catches up with her Star Wars costar (and “bestie”), Adam Driver. 


Daisy Ridley Hey Adam, it’s been so long.

Adam Driver Hey Daisy, how are you? When is the last time that I saw you?

DR Well, I don’t know because you don’t come to all the fun things that I go to. [laughs] Last July? It’s been like a year!

AD Oh, yeah, I guess. I’m much taller now.

DR How has your life changed? [laughs]

AD Oh, just in little ways. So, where are you now?

DR I’m in Canada, two hours outside of Montreal in these creepy woods. We feel like we’re going to be killed at any moment in this cabin. We’re shooting a film, Chaos Walking, with Doug Liman, Tom Holland, and Demián Bichir. It’s fucking cool.

AD Did you guys have time to meet each other before? Or did you just kind of jump right in?

DR I had met Tom Holland twice very briefly—for, like, 30 seconds—and I had met Doug Liman once and we spoke a bit, but it was very much feet first, it was super quick.

AD So, is it hard for you to meet people and just kind of go? Or do you prefer it?

DR [laughs] I mean, as we discovered, Adam, we became besties last year, but we had met some years before. It really takes me a while to relax with people. I don’t think I’m very good at meeting people: I feel awfully uncomfortable. So, I find meeting people very stressful. But it gets easier, and I think I’m getting better at being okay with that, you know?

AD Yeah, you always seemed very open, but I feel the same as you. When I meet people, I don’t know how to small talk very well, so it’s always like two back-and-forths of like, “Hey, how are you? How’s the weather?” And then five seconds later, I’m like, “So, what’s your relationship like with your mother?” It always goes really deep really quickly.

DR [laughs] I think you’re really good at it.

AD Oh, thank you. So, this is about Star Wars: If Rey was a color…I’m kidding.

DR No, oh my God. [laughs]

AD What were your initial conversations with J.J. [Abrams] about your character? Did you know the character’s name was Rey?

Keep reading

Memories

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 6k

Prompt:

He lays there, blanket pulled to his torso, eyes shut, he looks like the rest of them, and she feels her heart ache. She can’t help but notice how young he is, he can’t be any older than twenty-six, and here he lays with no one around him.

“Hi there,” Y/N whispers, bending down to height of his ear, “I’m your nurse Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m here to take care of you. Make sure you stay healthy for when you wake up, make sure you don’t get any bed sores yeah? I’ll keep you company, keep you updated on what’s happening in the world, tell you some funny jokes, I’ll even let you in on the latest company gossip, but you gotta do me a favor,” she whispers, placing her hand on top of his. It’s a cold hand, rough, and she knows it’s supposed to feel that way, but it maker her heart ache even more. Y/N closes her eyes, taking in a shaky breath, “you have to pull through this and live, yeah? Because when you wake up, it’s going to be your turn to tell me all about yourself, yeah?”

She opens her eyes and sighs.“It’s late now, one a.m., but I’ll be back later to check in on you,” she gently brushes the hair out of his face and stands, “we’ve got a deal. You can’t fail me.”

or 

Y/N is Harry’s beautiful nurse who he can’t stop thinking about, to the point that he’s willing to give up his old memories and life to make a new one with her.


“Good morning!” Y/N sings.

Keep reading

movies [ steve x reader ]

premise: (name) is dustin’s sister and they decide to watch movies all night. what (name) doesn’t know is that dustin invited steve, too

a/n: this was supposed to be shorter, like to paragraphs short, but…
also, requested by:  Hey I loved your Steve x Reader where reader is Dustin’s sister’s fic. Can you do more of it please? ( @queeeenofscots​ ) / can you plz do more dustinssister!reader x steve imagines??? thanks ily <3 (anon)

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

A family night. Well, more of a sibling night. Mom is out of town with a couple of friends of hers (Mews death had really taken a toll on her). You and Dustin are left to your own devices, which means movie marathons and junk food all night. Falling asleep is also a no go because you swore to draw on his face with a sharpie if he even closed his eyes for a second. The same goes for you, of course. Granted, for being seventeen you sure can be childish sometimes. But you can’t really blame yourself for that, or wanting to spend more time with your brother. The two of you had always been close, but you drifted away when you grew into a real teen. Naturally the Demogorgon business brought you two together pretty quickly and neither of you intend to lose touch again.

Dustin picks between a few horror movies you had rented earlier that day as you heat up the popcorn, “Hey, (Name), how do you feel about Halloween?” Dustin asks from the couch.

You make a face, “Not good.”

“Perfect. We’re watching this one.”

You surpass the urge to roll your eyes and you grin and take the KFC you ordered out of those meek paper bags. As you turn off the lights in the kitchen, with one hand holding plates and the other grasping a big bottle of soda, you move into the living room as Dustin sets up the movie, “Just try not to scream.” Dustin says, fiddling with the VCR.

“Pretty sure you’ll be the one that’s screaming.”

The doorbell rings and makes a shiver shoot up your spine.  Instinctively you look at the looming front entrance and the dark night pooling behind it. You glance at Dustin but he doesn’t even look your way, mumbling something about ‘Stupid fucking movie why don’t you work?!’ so you set down the food and slowly make your way to the door. Right, maybe turning off all of the lamps so only the TV screen lights up the room with its ghostly bleak light and that weird scratching noise wasn’t the best idea. But it’s not like a Demo-dog can ring a doorbell, right?…Right?

Scolding yourself for being paranoid, you swiftly unlock the door and with a deep breath open it fully. The cool air pinches your cheeks red as you meet eyes with deep brown ones. Something clicks in your mind and you can’t help but grin at the visitor, recalling all those moments he had pulled you away from the mission just to talk or be close to you. Steve Harrington stands on your porch with a lazy smile on his lips and his hands shoved into his pockets. You make a mental note to thank Dustin later, because you sure as hell didn’t invite your crush over.

“…I was told there will be KFC.” Steve states.

“Who gave away this information?” You wonder, stepping aside to let him in. With a light shrug he enters and beelines for the couch.

“Hey, Dustin!—And I never reveal my sources, (Name).”

Soon you all squeezed on the small couch. Dustin in one end, you in the middle, and Steve in the other. After fighting over the popcorn and the abundance of puns Steve kept saying, a hush fell over your small group as the movie started. You were immediately sucked in and a bit terrified. You never could handle scary movies. And now that you literally had the opportunity to live out a real life scary movie with the Demo-dog business, you still find scary movies, well, scary. You pull the warm blanket closer to your lips as you are ready to hide behind it at any given moment.

Steve notices your terrified expression, and on a different occasion he wouldn’t find it as cute as he does now. You lean into him a bit when Michael Myers shows up. Something swells in his chest, something light and fuzzy and he can’t help but smile a little. For a full minute he ponders should he do the old ’yawn-put-my-hand-around-her-shoulders’ shtick. He conducts that would be pretty stupid and awkward so he just pretends to shift in his seat and drapes his arm over your shoulders anyway. You look at him. He pretends that nothing happened and gives you a playful glance.

Half-way through the movie you grew comfortable enough to rest your head on his chest. Steve’s fingers played patters on your skin, played with your hair almost subconsciously, but his eyes never once left the screen. When the clock struck 1 o’clock and the screen cut to black – the movie was finally over and you can take a breather, - you and Steve had to surpass a laugh at Dustin’s snoring. In hushed murmurs the two of you moved and Steve took up the job of picking Dustin up and bringing him to his room. With the blanket wrapped around your shoulders you waited him to return, and honestly, nearly swooned at how domestic he is.

Once he returns he shoves his hands into his pockets and looks around, almost as if trying to think of an excuse to stay. In lazy steps he approaches you and you have to bite down a smile, “I should…probably go now.” He says slowly, testing the waters. You flick your brows upwards.

“You sure?” You ask, “There are two more movies left.”

“You know, I always considered myself a patron of the arts so yeah, I say I could stay. With you. T-To watch the movies. If you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t. Trust me, I don’t.”

Steve makes quick work of setting up the VCR as you find a good spot on the couch. You fluff the pillows and can hardly contain the excitements that’s practically radiating from you. Now there’s way more space to move around, but he sits close to you and you throw your blanket on the both of you to keep warm, if that is even needed. Honestly, you just want to share something with him. Be as close as you can possibly be without going overboard with your feelings. You have a small hint that he may feel the same way, but then again, you don’t want to ruin this – whatever this is you have with him – by tuning all mushy and sappy and kissy. Not that turning kissy would be a bad thing, now that you really consider it.

The movie starts in bright flashes and loud sounds and you frown softly. You feel Steve’s arm drape over your shoulders again and you turn your head to him. A kaleidoscope of colors shine on his face – it almost appears mesmerizing – as the thought of the two of you being completely alone finally sinks in. A spark lights up your chest and fuels your whole body with the need to kiss him. Your gaze roams from his eyes to his lips and back, an action he notices and smirks at, as you lean in ever so slightly and asks, “…Patron of the arts? Really?”

“I lied.” He grins, “Sorry.” He murmurs, leaning in and capturing your lips in a long overdue kiss.


end.


forever tags: @tozierswheelers @princesspeach212@ohblue@phillipas00@ichigothewisewolf@alittlebitofmagic@vanillaladyuniverse@onehellofdevilotaku@itsallinyourimagination @whatshernamemaria@magical-spit @viixenbriiar @averagewemo@sams-my-babys-daddy @jordysgirl87 @iamhereyoudidthis @thehuntchback@badbitsh13@headcanons-for-losers @orchiddarling @michelangelui@hugeroftrees @pupylvr4905@gcnnyweasleys@nerdysandwichqueen @oomylifeiseternalsufferingoo@cheshirecatbyul @broken-pieces

Just Say It (Bill Skarsgard x Reader)

requested: Hi! Could you please do a Bill Skarsgard X Reader imagine? So (Y/N) played Roman’s (Bill’s character) best friend / crush in Hemlock Grove and after the show ends, they see each other in IT premiere because (Y/N) is accompanying her brother Jackson (Who plays Georgie). Just fluff and Bill and (Y/N) are in love but they don’t know and Jackson spills that they like each other. Thanks! Your works are amazing!

Word Count: 1576

Warnings: some mature language ?

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting, this is such a good idea!

Originally posted by jonerysloveboat

There’s something scarily intoxicating about the acting industry. It’s like a siren beautifully singing to lure you closer and closer to the cliffs, waiting for a fatal collision. Yet (to her family’s dismay) it had affected Y/N - and now her little brother, Jackson. Their father had been a lawyer and their mother a teacher; both reliable jobs meant to procure a salary and stability. They had tried so hard to instill the idea of the American Dream and all that nonsense into their children.

Self-destruction must skip a generation, Y/N supposed.

Y/N had spent most of her acting career twiddling her thumbs as she waited for auditions and call backs that never came. She did her best to present everything good and unique about herself on resumes, but (nine times out of ten) not even that was good enough. It was disappointing to say the least and depressing to say the most. Initially, she didn’t want Jackson to pursue acting either. All the experiences he’d miss, like all the experiences she missed, could never be replaced. All the self deprecation and angst and the thoughts of ‘I’m not good enough’ - how in God’s name could she wish that upon her baby brother? But, as she sat in the backseat of a white limo, little Jackson sitting across from her, she acknowledged how wrong she had been. He was wearing such an expensive tuxedo, yet he was still pressing his nose to the window’s glass and making patterns with the fog. He wasn’t missing experiences - he was making them. Like a kid should.

It was her mother who first brought it all to light one evening over dinner, It wasn’t all bad, she had said after shoveling runny mashed potatoes onto her plate. And that was true; Y/N had played Odette Polinsky on Hemlock Grove. She was barely eighteen when she got the role and, though job single-handedly saved her career, yet it wasn’t even a completely positive memory.

Y/N was the youngest cast member on Hemlock Grove, and was completely (and pathetically) infatuated with a boy who saw her as nothing more as a friend. She had to witness the endless stream of girls come and go, as he conquered them and moved on.

“Did you talk to Ellie?” He whispered in Y/N’s ear during the show’s second season. He was leaning on his chair, with his elbow propping up his chin as he smiled boyishly. She tried to ignore the tingles as they ran down her spine, swallowing thickly. Ellie was his latest prize and she was constantly prancing around set in tube tops and denim short shorts. He followed her like a moth to a flame.

“Ya, I - I did. She really - likes you.” She managed to splutter out. Sometimes, when she was concentrating and focused, she could pretend conversations with him where just a scene. Their interactions all had a script, she would tell herself, therefore there’s no reason to panic. But this was not one of those days.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed as he scratched his chin with his thumb and index finger. He cocked his eyebrow at her and smiled, his lips slightly parted. He was so close to her, that she could smell his cologne - oranges and mint. Y/N had to stop herself from closing her eyes and leaning in.

“Well, catch you later Oddi!” He said quickly, as he briskly stood up from his chair and cracked his knuckles.

“See you Roman.” She replied quietly to herself.

Said boy just so happens to star alongside Jackson. She wondered if he still smelt the same like oranges and mint, maybe he even was -

Y/N shook her head, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. She couldn’t think about him today, today was Jackson’s day. Besides he had every other damn day to consume her thoughts. She would avoid him and that was that.

“Y/N! Y/N! Look! Look!” Jackson was pointing as he stared at all the flashing cameras and interviewers with microphones stood at the ready. His eyes lit up as he spoke and he smiled that dimpled smile of pure joy. Make those experiences, Jackson, thought Y/N as she smiled and stared with him. Soon enough they were parked and helped out of a limo by a wide shouldered man who fistbumped Jackson. Y/N smoothed out her silver dress (hoping to God, there were no wrinkles) and touched the earrings on her ears (those bad boys cost as much as a mortgage).

The boy bounded outside of the limo and was immediately bombarded by interviewers and questions (“How was working with older actors?” “We’re you scared?” “Are you going to see the movie?”).

Y/N stifled a laugh as she caught up to Jackson, making sure to look more confident than she really was in her black pumps. She subtly pointed in attempts to direct his attention to an interview who looked kind enough. Immediately the young boy caught on, at seven years old he was more aware of social cues then Y/N. Y/N went off to stand next to her parents, making sure to stay in direct earshot.

“Hello!” Jackson exclaimed happily, interlocking his fingers and letting his arms go slack. He looked so professional and gentlemanly, Y/N could’ve sang.

“Hello there Jackson! It’s so great to talk to you!” The interview knelt a bit, getting down to his level. She was tilting the microphone towards his mouth as she smiled genuinely.

“And you!”

“Thank you very much! Anyway, so both you and your sister have both worked with Bill Skarsgard right?”

Oh boy here it is.

“Yep!” Jackson said just as happily.

“How did you like it?!”

“Well, his costume is kinda scary but I saw him - em - get ready and stuff so - so it wasn’t too bad. I mean, eating me was kinda scary but not too too bad. He’s actually really nice and a really good actor and he told me a lot of stories about my sister and a lot of them were really funny but some of them weren’t really funny.” Jackson rambled, his tongue was officially detached from his brain. Now it wagged along in his jaw.

“What were the not so funny stories?” The interviewer asked puzzled, as she tried to reposition herself so the microphone was right underneath Jackson.

C’mon kid. I love ya. I care for ya. I support ya in all aspects of life. But if you say some of those not so funny stories, you better hope to God you - Y/N’s mind was in complete freefall, every secret fantasy, dream, and hope was currently abandoning ship.

Jackson, giddy as ever, had no problem wagging his tongue some more. He took a deep breath of air before saying, “Well, he told me about how sometimes on the show he would try to - um - get her attention and it never really worked and she never liked him. He told me that she thought he was, well, I dunno what it means so it could be a bad word … ”

“Go on, I’ll make sure it isn’t a bad word.” The interviewer egged on. Y/N was starting to like this woman less and less.

“He said that she thought he was a player.” The interviewer just laughed and assured him that ‘player’ was not in fact a bad word before asking him other questions about the movie.

Y/N looked around her as if to say, Did anyone else just hear that? Her jaw was now completely slack as she hung it open stupidly. Her shoulders unstraightened, her back slouched, and she had to check to make sure that the earrings were still hanging from her ears.

“Did you hear that?” A familiar voice asked in her ear as tingles shot down her spine. Y/N looked up at the tall god that was Bill Skarsgard and nodded fiercely, as she felt her forehead with the back of her hand. Was she ill? Because now she was feeling a bit feverish in this dress.

“Did you really?” He asked again, looking down at his shoes and smirking, his lips just parted. She just nodded again. “Well, I suppose the truth is out there.” His slight accent on the word ‘there’ caused Y/N to smile widely.

“I never thought you were a player. I thought you were …  popular.” Y/N finally said, breaking the tension. Bill tipped his head back, his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers, and gave the heartiest laugh. The breeze caught his hair and Y/N could smell oranges and mint on the wind.

Once he had stopped laughing, all Y/N could think was just say it, just say it.

“I - uh - I well I was trying as much as - I - well wanted your attention too.” Y/N finally spoke out, raising her voice to make sure he heard it too. “Wow - I always thought you didn’t like me and I want you to kno-”

“HEY CAN WE GET A PHOTO OF YOU GUYS?!” A photographer interjected the sweet moment much to Y/N’s dismay. But Bill snaked his hand on her waist and softly pulled her into him, so she was pressed into his long torso. She smiled at the small gesture, looking down at his hand as she felt him smile down on her.

anonymous asked:

REDDIE PROMPT WHERE THEYRE IN COLLEGE AND RICHIE IS ALWAYS LATE TO SCHOOL AND EDDIE IS JUST LIKE THIS GUY IS CUTE SO LEMMIE JUST,, “HEY DUDE,, YOU NEED A RIDE OR SOME SHIT??” AND THATS HOW THEY END UP MAKING OUT AND ~STUFF IN EDDIES CAR, SKIPPING CLASS THE NEXT DAY

Okay so first off I’m really sorry that this took me so long to get to whoever requested it. this was seriously one of the first requests I got and I should have tried to get it done sooner. that being said I really liked how it turned out and I hope everyone does too!!


Eddie, like most university students absolutely hated morning classes. He seriously had no clue why they were a thing. It should be a law that school can’t start until 9AM. Minimum.

He blamed Bill for the early morning torture he had signed up for. Bill didn’t want to take creative writing alone and since it technically fulfilled Eddie’s English credit requirement, Eddie thought it would be a good idea.

He was completely wrong.

So now instead of having a nice relaxing morning to sleep in he had to wake up at 6 in the morning and drive for 45 minutes in morning traffic, all while hating himself, just to sit through a class that he didn’t really like.

It’s not that he didn’t like it exactly. He just never had anything to write about. Bill could just pull ideas out of his ass while had Eddie struggled to think of a topic for the prompt “Write anything”. There was a reason Eddie had gone the medical route. All he had to do for that was know stuff, and seeing that his mother had basically made him live in the ER when he was younger, he knew quite a bit.

Eddie sat at his desk with his head down, his arms wrapped around him, blocking any light from hitting his eyes. He popped one eye out when he heard something being placed in front of him.

Bill had arrived offering a peace treaty of coffee and a bagel for the campus coffee shop. Eddie reached his hand out and pulled the bagel into his little ‘cave’, nibbling on it sleepily. Bills morning treats were one of the two things Eddie liked about this class.

“Oh come on Eddie, waking up early isn’t that bad.” Bill chirped, much too lively for Eddie to handle at the current time.

“That’s because you’re used to it with your stupid hikes and stuff,” Eddie grumbled pulling the coffee towards him, he was going to try to drink it with his head still down but decided he wanted to start the morning drinking the coffee, not wearing it. So he sat up and rested his head on his hand, looking over at Bill.

“If you came with me sometime, you’d also be okay with waking up early.” Bill replied taking his seat beside Eddie and pulling a binder out of his bag.

Eddie just responded with a sound and reached down to pull his binder out as well.

The teacher started class shortly after that, something about antagonists. The coffee was really doing its job, and Eddie slowly felt less like he wanted to kill someone and more like a solid punch would be okay.

About 20 minutes into the teacher talking and taking mindless notes, the door handle clicked and the door swung open. Since the door was at the front of the room everyone’s attention turned from the teacher to the guy at the door.

He was the other thing Eddie like about the class.

So what if Eddie had a crush on some guy he’d never spoken to, he wasn’t afraid to admit it. accept he was. Not even Bill, who he would consider his best friend knew about the weird crush he had on the guy from their creative writing class that would always come in late.

Like seriously it was almost impressive how consistently late he was.

“Mr. Tozier. Please take your seat.” The teacher instructed without looking over at the door.

Eddie had found out his name was Richie by maybe Facebook stalking him the first time he had heard his last name.

Richie saluted to the teacher and crossed the room to his seat at the back corner of the room. Eddie slyly turned his head to watch him walk to his desk. He fist bumped with the redhead he always sat with as he took his seat.

Eddie assumed that was his girlfriend by the way they acted together. That didn’t mean he couldn’t look, right?

So that was how Eddie spent most of his mornings, barely listening to lectures and sneakily glancing over his shoulder at the hot guy that sat at the back of the class. Once Richie got there the class seem to move a lot faster.

The teacher wrapped up her lesson and dismissed everyone. Eddie had been zoning out looking out the window for the past ten minutes so when Bill shook his shoulder his head jerked down in surprise. Everyone was packing up.

He was looking up at Bill confused when he heard a laugh come from the back of the room. He looked over his shoulder to see Richie covering his mouth with his hand and staring right at him.

Eddie quickly spun around to face the front of the room.

Had he zoned out staring at Richie? He didn’t think so but he couldn’t be sure. Great now Richie was going to think he was some weirdo who stares at people blankly during class. He shot out of his chair, threw his backpack on, and grabbed his binder from the desk. Rushing out of the room, leaving a very confused Bill at behind.

He stopped when he was in the hallway and moved out of the way of other students trying to get to class. Leaning against the wall he waited for Bill, hoping he would get the memo and hurry after him before Richie left the classroom.

Of course he didn’t and Eddie stood there, sinking further down the wall, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible when Richie and the red head walked out of the class and right passed him. The girl was talking as they passed but Richie turned from her to look straight at Eddie and laugh.

Eddie was sure his face was bright red. How was he supposed to come to class after this?

Bill followed shortly after and found Eddie by the wall, red-faced and slightly freaking out. The two left the building, Eddie refusing to explain to Bill what was going on. They meet Mike out on campus and walked to the next class together.

Eddie felt like he was having a midlife crisis at twenty. He made it through the rest of the day and headed home that evening dreading coming back to school the next day.

But of course the next day came. And Eddie hated missing classes, even stupid morning ones where the guy he liked was there and would probably laugh at him and God Eddie really hoped Bill brought something really good this morning because the other reason he went to this class was really stressing him out. The weather mimicked his mood as it began to rain.

He resentfully got into his car and realized he was actually earlier than usual. Great, so now he was going to get to class extra early and have to sit there and wait for like half an hour. 

Absolutely not.

Eddie decided to take a longer route than he normally did, hopefully killing enough time so that he would just get to class on time.

He turned down an unfamiliar road and followed it for a bit. Getting slightly lost and unable to see the street signs through the rain. He turned down another side street, this one seeming to be completely dead. Completely dead except for a single person walking along the sidewalk.

They had a hood pulled over their head and they were soaking wet.

Why would anyone be walking right now, there were bus stops everywhere and by how wet they were, it was pretty obvious that they had been walking for a while.

Eddie slowed his car down and watched them. It wasn’t until he got relatively close that he realized who it was.

Of fucking course, it was Richie. Who else would it be. Eddie must have pissed off some god. what else would explain the slim chance that the one person he was trying to avoid was the only person walking down a street that Eddie never went down.

He was about to step on the gas and get as far away as he could but stopped when he noticed Richie shivering.

It was too early to be dealing with moral dilemmas. Eddie slowed his car down even more and stayed about a car length behind Richie as he walked. Maybe he had his car park somewhere up here and was just walking to it.

“I’m not being creepy; I’m being a concerned classmate.” Eddie justified to himself as he followed Richie for another block.  

When two more blocks passed Eddie was convinced Richie planned to walk the whole way. But there was no way, the university campus was still another fifteen-minute drive.

Eddie took a deep breath and speed up a bit coming to a stop a little in front of Richie. He rolled his window down and stuck his head just out of the window

“Hey there.” He called, immediately mentally slapping himself. he probably looked like the biggest stalker right now.

Richie looked over at him confused before recognition filled his face and he pulled an earbud out and approached Eddie’s car.

“Hey yourself, you’re from writing class right?” Richie asked as he leaned an arm on the top of Eddie’s car. Eddie honestly didn’t know which would have been worse. If he recognized him or if he didn’t. this was pretty bad.

“Yeah,” Eddie said laughing awkwardly. This was worst. “So um, are you planning on walking to class today?” He continued, trying to get right to the point. Eddie wasn’t the best “small talker”.

“Yeah, I was. It is such a beautiful day. Shame to waste it.” Richie joked nodding up towards the sky. Eddie laughed awkwardly again. He wasn’t serious, was he. Eddie wasn’t 100% sure but he figured it would take another 30 to 45 minutes to get to the campus from here.

“I’m heading that way if you want to um, catch a ride with me or something,” Eddie asked.

Richie stared down at him and smiled.

“I’d get your car all wet. But thanks for the offer. I’ll see you in class.” Richie said as he pushed off from Eddie car and headed back to the sidewalk. Eddie didn’t move for a few seconds before inching forward and stopping just in front of Richie again.

“This cars pretty shitty already, and if you walk from here you’ll be late.” Eddie pointed out

“But if I’m not late what will your excuse be for watching me walk to my seat.” Richie laughed as Eddie’s face lit up. He started to stutter which only made Richie laugh harder.

“Okay, okay I’ll take the ride if you calm down, I was just joking,” Richie said between breaths as he approached the car, this time rounding the front. Eddie rolled his window up gawking at where Richie had been. He saw his reflection in the closed window and saw how red his face was. Well, he had gotten what he wanted.

Richie pulled the passenger seat open shook off as much water as he could before entering the car.

Without saying anything, Eddie stepped on the gas and sped off towards school.

“So do you offer rides to all the boys you stare at or am I just special?” Richie asked after a few minutes of silence past between them. Eddie’s eyes widened as he drove.

“I don’t stare at you.” Eddie defended, biting his lip.

“You sure about that?” Richie laughed, looking at the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie could see the disbelieving look Richie was giving him from the corner of his eye.

“Okay, so what if I stare at you.” Eddie challenged. He had no clue where the sudden confidence was coming from but he knew that he needed it to get through the rest of this car ride.

Richie looked taken aback by his answer for a second before a smile broke out across his face.

“I do too.” He said, still grinning at Eddie. Eddie turned his head from the road to look over at Richie in surprise.

“W-what” He stuttered, turning back to face the road when he almost ran into the car in front of him.

Richie laughed again from beside him.

“Yeah, all the time. You do some pretty cute things in class. Like almost falling asleep.” Richie turned to look out the front window. “I was going to talk to you after class yesterday actually, but you looked like you were going through some stuff.”

Eddie was beyond confused. Was he on some kind of TV show. There was no way that this was his real life right now. Eddie made the turn into the student parking lot and pulled into his parking spot.

“That was umm, nothing. Forget about yester…” Eddie said turning to face Richie, who had quietly moved his face so it was right in front of Eddie’s when he turned. Eddie froze and stared. Richie leaned in slightly closer

“I never asked for your name,” Richie whispered leaning in even closer.

“um, E-Eddie.” He whispered back, unable to move.

“well Eds, Thanks for the ride.” He placed his hand on Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie was the one who finally closed the gap between them. He softly pressed his lips against Richie. Richie hesitated for a second, thrown off my Eddie’s boldness but quickly gathered himself and pressed back.

The soft kiss quickly escalated into Richie leaning over the console to push Eddie back against the driver’s door. Eddie, not wanting to be upstaged in the impromptu make-out session was the one to intensify the kiss by licking his tongue along Richie’s bottom lip

Richie moaned at the feeling. He returned the favor by pressing Eddie harder into the door and exploring his mouth with his tongue.

This is really not how Eddie saw today going. Like, he wasn’t going to complain but it really was a curveball.

Eddie pushed on Richie’s shoulders and they separated, panting for breath but not moving too far from the other.

“Wait, wait. Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Eddie asked starting to panic. He was not down with being a homewrecker.

“Girlfriend? Who Bev?” Richie looked extremely confused and then he laughed loudly when Eddie blushed a deeper shade of red.

Richie raised his hand to Eddie’s cheek and kiss him lightly.

“Bev is like my best friend, almost like an annoying little sister. I’m only taking this class because of her.” He reassured before leaning in to kiss Eddie again. Eddie kissed back enthusiastically before abruptly pulling back.

“Fuck. Class.” Eddie shrieked looking down at the clock. They were ten minutes late to class.

“Shit.” Eddie reached into the back seat and grabbed his backpack before throwing the driver seat door open. Richie laughed as he watched him, and jumped out of the car. Eddie grabbed his hand instinctively and pulled him as he ran towards the English building.

He flung the classroom door open, dropping Richie’s hand and froze when everyone turned to stare at him. Eddie dropped his head and half ran over to his spot, where Bill was gaping up at him. Eddie dropped down beside him and hid his face in his arms.

A second later he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll take another ride sometime,” Richie whispered into his ear as he walked past him towards his seat.

Eddie’s entire face lit up but he smiled into his arms.

Today definitely didn’t turn out the way he thought it would. And he was definitely okay with that.


Hope everyone liked it!


Tag list (I’ll get it right this time!)

@smol-and-annoying @donvex @richietoaster @reddieornotasshole @williumbyers @eds-trashmouth @curlylemonhead @gazebo-reddie  

Bts | Reaction | Checkmate✔️

[ i live for these mafia/gangsta aus! thanks so much for requesting this, i love you so much, enjoy :)) ]

Seokjin

➸ You hadn’t caught his eye just yet, him merely seeing you as another waitress threatened with your life to serve him anything he desired. This business meeting was nothing but intense, the atmosphere suffocating as the topic was on murder. Now, for a normal servant they wouldn’t even bat an eye on the conversation - but that’s just it. 

You were new. 

And it probably was just your luck to be working on the day they decided to be…descriptive as to what they planned to do to the rat among them. A little squeamish, you couldn’t help but shake uncontrollably when you poured Jin another glass of wine, biting your lip with so much strength that you were sure it was bleeding.

“Yoongi, for the last time, we are not using acid. I almost lost my fucking arm trying to clean it up the last time we used it.” Namjoon groans, rubbing his temples in aggravation. “What is it with you and melting skin?” 

“He’s a sadist, that’s why.” Jimin snickers. “I say we cut off the fingers, one by one. Then, leave him to bleed out - slowly.” 

You couldn’t help but gulp at the mere thought of someone’s fingers being cut off, or their skin melting off; what was wrong with these people? Do they find it entertaining doing these things-

“Yah!” 

The abrupt shout coming from Jin shocks you back into reality, as your heart drops at the sight of the overflowed wine glass, now all over the white table cloth and his dress pants. Losing the ability to breathe, you stand there with your mouth agape in terror, eyes wide like a deer in front of headlights. Sputtering out apologies left and right, you set the bottle down to hurriedly clean him up as much as you could with the hem of your dress - it being the only thing available. 

“I-I’m sorry, please, forgive me - I didn’t mean to, I was only just-” 

Before you could finish your plea, your breath is once again caught in your throat as rough fingers grip your jaw, lifting your head back up so he could get a good look at you. The room is now silent, which you concluded to be much worse than their conversation. You didn’t even notice you had tears until he used his other hand to wipe them away, gently. Never had you ever been so confused until this very moment - Jin was never gentle. You know from witnessing what he was really capable of.  

“Calm down, it’s alright. It was only an accident, right?” You take a minute to nod slowly, but once you did, he smiles. That only seems to scare you rather than put you at ease. “No need to be scared. Why don’t we get you cleaned up, hm?” 

Before you had a chance to answer, Jin had already latched onto your forearm, while standing from his seat. It was as if wine had never been spilled as he gave the conference table one last look. “Continue without me, I’ll be back shortly. And get someone to clean up this mess.” 

Taking a look at them as well, you didn’t understand as to why they all had knowing grins as they waved the two of you off. What was going to happened to you? Was he just playing tricks, was this the end for you? Your breathing only came in chops as he escorted you out of the room, the tears cascading down your face as you whimpered. 

“Please, don’t kill me! I have a family, please, I didn’t mean to spill-” You were cut off once again, only this time in an incredibly different way. Blinking rapidly, you moaned in surprised as his lips crashed onto yours, his hands rested on your lower back, pulling you in close. 

What was this you were feeling? 

This wasn’t the Kim Seokjin you’ve come to know for the past week, he never even gave you a passing glance - he didn’t know you existed until today. How come this kiss felt like he’s known you forever? 

After a few minutes, the two of you pulled away desperately in need for air, his hands now finding a new area to caress as he stared into your eyes. 

“I..I don’t understand…” 

“Have you any idea how long I’ve been searching for you? How long I’ve waited, and yet here you were this whole time - serving me wine.” Seeing that you were still confused, Jin chuckles softly. “What’s your name?” 

“Y-Y/n…”

“Y/n.” He repeated, allowing the name to slip off his tongue, like butter. “Such a pretty name, it suits you.” 

“So..you’re not gonna kill me, or cut my fingers off, or bathe me in acid-”

“Now, how could I do that to my soulmate?” Feeling your heart nearly stop, you practically choke on air at the word. “Sorry you had to hear all of that, from now on, you no longer have to serve me. And you have a family, you say? I’d like to meet them, they shall be protected for as long as I’m breathing, as well as you.”

“Whoa, wait, slow down. I-I’m your…b-but how could you possibly know?! Just five minutes ago, you didn’t know who I was, and now all of the sudden we’re soulmates? I just…I don’t understand.” Yes, everything was crashing onto you all at once, but you didn’t pull away from him. You let him continue to hold you; his presence oddly feeling right.

Jin couldn’t help but to laugh, the feeling of relief that he finally found you was enough to put him a constant good mood. Not even you’re obliviousness could annoy him; whether you believed him or not, he would get you see someday that he was made for you.

“There’s plenty of time to explain all of this - but wouldn’t you rather get cleaned up? This wine is starting to feel a little sticky.” 

The events of earlier almost made you forget the small slip up you made - realizing that it all came down to just overfilling a wine glass. If you hadn’t have been so careless, would you be in this situation? Would everything had been different if you hadn’t have screwed up? 

Was this fate? If he wasn’t going to kill you, why not at least see where all of this was going to lead. What was the worst that could happen? 

Nodding slowly, this time he went for your hand, leading the way to what you assumed to be his bedroom. 

“We are meant to be, my love. I’ll show you.” 

Yoongi 

➸ If there was anything else Yoongi could do, he would pick it in a heartbeat. He’d rather watch paint dry than wander around this party, surrounded by a whole bunch of idiots who were drunk off their asses while carrying lethal weapons. If anything, he feared for his life rather than enjoyed the event. To be honest he couldn’t even remember why he was there in the first place. 

“Attention, could I have everyone’s attention. I would like to thank you all for attending this special occasion. The day my only child takes over the family business.”

Ah, that’s right. He was sent to put in a good word for вts to the new mafia boss of BigHit; just to make sure there continued to be no bad blood between them. He didn’t know what the big deal was, just some guy getting a new position in something that was merely child’s play - in his opinion. Why was there a need for such a big fuss over one dude? 

Man, was he in for a kick in the balls when you walked out. You were far from being ‘some guy’ or a ‘dude’. You were a woman. And the ‘big fuss’ was because BigHit had never been run by a woman before. Especially not a woman that looked like pure sex. Yoongi nearly choked on his drink when you strutted out for the whole party to see, cheers erupting all around him, yet he couldn’t hear a thing. It was like all his senses were circled in on you, even senses he didn’t know he had were all focused. 

“My daughter, Y/n, the first female to ever run the empire. Babygirl - make daddy proud.” Yoongi couldn’t help but to fantasize about saying those final words to you someday, biting his lip as his eyes scanned you up and down. Definitely a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. He could only pray to the man in the sky, thanking that Jin-hyung made him come to this event.

Clearing his throat, he joined in the claps that congratulated their new boss, all sending their best wishes and positive vibes. Honestly, he couldn’t wait to be alone with her to discuss ‘business’. He watched you intensely as you made your way down the stairs, dress flowing behind you so elegantly it should be considered illegal to look as good as you did. You greeted anyone that was in your path - from hugs, to handshakes, to the friendly kisses on the cheek. 

But, as soon as you got to him - everything stopped. As if your brain had completely shut off, and you were merely a hallow shell. You didn’t even blink, your mouth hanging open like a fool as you stood in front of him with your arms open. 

If he hadn’t cleared his throat, you probably would have been stuck like that for a little while. Shaking your head, you chuckle nervously, reaching over to shake his hand. 

“So sorry, I don’t know what came over me for a second. You must be Yoongi, Seokjin told me that you would be attending tonight. Pleasure to finally put a face to a name.” When his hand had finally connect with yours, you could have sworn a bolt of electricity sprung up your right arm, almost making you jump back in alarm. Almost

“Pleasure is all mine,” Yoongi pulls you in closer by the hand, leaning down to place a light kiss upon your knuckles. “Miss Y/n.” 

The way your name fell from his lips nearly made you weak in the knees. Blinking a couple of times to compose yourself, you gesture with your other hand in the direction where your new, private office was located. 

“Shall we get down to business, then?” 

Tightening his grip on her hand, he nods slowly as a grin forms upon his lips. “Lead the way.” 

Namjoon 

➸ You two had made eye contact the minute you hit the stage. It was your first night being the main dancer, feeling so confident in yourself that you decided to wear a little something more than inappropriate - snagging Namjoon’s attention in under a second. Not only had he never seen you before, but you did something to him the same way a drug would do. His heart started to race, his palms sweating, everything around him going silent and his vision tunneling in on you and only you. 

For a moment, you forgot your whole routine, or that there were other men in the room you needed to interest; not just him. But, your mind felt as if he was all the attention you wanted - needed, even. You didn’t know what is was, but when the music started, you had no choice but to get into character and finally break eye contact. Namjoon leaned back into his chair, eyes still trained on your swaying figure as you started to dance, licking his lips slowly at your movements being so smooth and precise. 

“Behave yourself, Namjoon, we’ve only just arrived and you’re already eye-fucking one of the dancers.” Jin playfully punches his shoulder, him not flinching. “Yah, what’s the matter with you?” 

Tugging at the sudden tightness at his collar, Namjoon finds the strength to pull his eyes away from you, them now clouded with lust as he tried to allow his heart to slow down. Jin had seen this look before, many times actually, him having had the same look not too long ago. Nodding to his friend, slowly, Jin only chuckles as Namjoon spilled everything without having to say one word. 

“Ah, I see. You think she’s the one?” 

“I don’t think. I know she is.” He notices that your dance was coming close to an end, him not wasting a moment before standing up and adjusting himself. “Don’t wait up, I’m coming home late.” 

“Be gentle with her, Joonie~” Jimin giggles, chugging down yet another shot with Taehyung. “We don’t call you ‘God of Destruction’ for nothing.” 

It was as if you were expecting him when you descended from the stage, already signaling him to follow you to the private section of the club, a teasing little smirk creeping upon you face as you made sure to swing your hips with exaggeration as you walked. Raising an eyebrow in interest, Namjoon couldn’t help but chuckle darkly as he happily started to follow you. 

“I think she can handle me.”  

Hoseok 

➸ Hoseok knew this was coming, eventually. He drank his poison and merely waited for it take effect, it was only a matter of time. He knew his wife was going to rat him out the minute she discovered the secrecy he’s kept from her for so long. 

“I hope that bitch was worth it, and that you rot in hell, Jung Hoseok!” 

He would only roll his eyes, as the police finished handcuffing them all, escorting them outside. There were millions of flashing lights as soon as they stepped foot through the doors; from reporters to people with camera phones, all taking pictures of the notorious mafia gang finally being brought to justice. 

Hoseok couldn’t help but to smile. These poor, naive fools.

People continuously shouted at them, from insults to curses, all saying this was a new beginning - now that the terrorists were finally going to be put behind bars, once and for all. Once the doors to the van were slammed shut, the seven of them looked at each other before all busting into a fit of laughter. The sound of the engine starting was loud enough to drown it out from anyone of the outside, driving away at lightening speed until the flashing lights of the cameras were submerged to nothing but tiny specks in the distance. 

For a straight ten minutes into the drive, they couldn’t keep from laughing - the whole situation seeming unreal and just hilarious to them. It wasn’t until the van had come to a complete stop did they all finally compose themselves enough to catch their breaths. Opening the double doors, they were greeted by a silhouette covered from head to toe in black, wearing a police helmet to hide their face; the laughter then returned once again. 

“Stop looking so fucking intimidating, your Oscar for world’s best actress is in the mail, Y/n.” Taehyung sarcastically remarked, you chuckling in response as your remove the helmet. Climbing into the van, you go over to Hoseok first, leaning downward to kiss him passionately - the guys not missing a beat to let out groans of disgust, mixed in with their laughter. 

“I always knew that tramp would sing like a canary. Not my fault her husband happened to my soulmate - and I sure as hell wasn’t going to share you for much longer, Hobi~” You unchained him from his handcuffs, so he could hold you properly as the two of you shared another kiss. 

“Yah, you two can ravish each other later! Right now, we gotta move, before the police realize this van never showed up to it’s original destination.” Namjoon warned. 

Pecking his lips one more time, you rush over to uncuff the rest of вts, them not wasting time to strip out of their suits. Putting on the casual clothing you had packed for them ahead of time, Yoongi then spread the inside of the van with gasoline as well as their previous clothing. Helping to push the vehicle into a nearby ditch, Hoseok held up a box of matches, his eyes piercing into your own. 

“Y/n. It is your choice if you want to continue on with us, or not. I’m going to be honest, once the feds catch on they will hunt us down like dogs, and it’s not going to be easy. I won’t make you do something you don’t want to-” 

You kiss him hard on the mouth before he could finish his speech, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close, signifying that you weren’t going anywhere. After pulling away from the passionate kiss, you happily take the matches from his hand, striking one of them - watching the flame come to life in the dark night. Taking a deep breath, you throw it toward the van, it perfectly landing on the roof of it. Not even seconds later did a blanket of fire start to spread around the vehicle, it being completely engulfed into the flames. The maknaes hoop and holler at the moon, dancing around with each other as the rest of you merely watched it burn. 

Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close to place a kiss on your forehead. “This isn’t going to be fun, you know.”

You chuckle, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “If you’re trying to scare me into leaving, it’s not gonna work. I’m with you till the end, Hobi, until the day I die.” 

He could only smile, your response making his heart race uncontrollably - something his wife could never do. You were the breath of fresh air he’s been looking for. Sure everything he’s worked for is practically gone thanks to you, but he didn’t mind starting over. It was a small price to pay, for you. 

“I love you, Y/n. Until the day I die.”

Jimin 

➸ Unfortunately, you were on his hit list. Someone had called him in to finish the job, getting rid of the witness who had gotten away with too much information. But, there was no record that you even existed, besides a name and the location where you worked. You kept a low profile, due to your reputation of being a well known snitch, only the last thing you spied on - you were sloppy. They saw you sneaking out of the window when you felt like you’ve gotten all that you needed. They didn’t see your face, but they knew enough to track you down - for him to track you down. 

Jimin entered the bar, dressed in nothing but black as he scanned the area. Checking over the exits, giving an educated guess of how many people were in the place, playing out all the possibly scenarios that could unfold tonight. The worst that could happen is that the police could get involved, allowing you to get away, and fail the mission. But, Jimin was a lot of things; a failure wasn’t one of them. 

The only information he was given was that you were either a server here, or a performer in one of the cages that hung from the ceiling. He knew that no one had seen your face before, but he felt that he could put a name of a face. Jimin wouldn’t be good at what he did if he couldn’t. Scanning the cages, none of the girls that shamelessly flashed their naked bodies seemed to fit the small profile. Huffing, he crosses the cages out; only one thing left to investigate. 

Sitting at one of tables, he pressed the button in front of him to gain service from one of the waitresses that would migrate all over the place. It took no more than five minutes for one of them to finally make their way over to him, notepad in hand, with sweat glistening off their face and nearly exposed torso; he nearly giggles at the faint appearance of glitter. It wasn’t until his eyes had landed on your face did the look of amusement completely melt from his features, quickly replaced with the blank one he had came in with. Trying to catch your breath in the stuffy bar, you didn’t even notice his face yet in the dimly lit area where the table was located. 

Jimin gulps, trying to keep himself calm before his heart nearly busted out of his chest. It couldn’t be you, it just couldn’t. He prayed to god that it wasn’t, that you were someone random who worked here, that his instincts were wrong this one time. When you had finally caught your breath, chuckling softly, you politely bowed in apology - still haven’t lifted your head up to look at him. 

“I am terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. My name is Y/n, I’ll be your server for tonight, what can I get for yo-…” You had then looked up, your professional smile dropping to a look of pure terror, as you took a small step back. Jimin’s blank expression switched to something that seemed as if he were in physical pain, tears forming in his eyes as he couldn’t bear to look into your terrified ones. 

You knew who he was, and what he was there to do. That only seemed to pain Jimin even further as the rapid beating of his heart only confirmed his worst nightmare: he’d have to kill his soulmate. 

“Y/n, I’m begging you…please run.” 

Taehyung 

➸ Taehyung had a reputation of being incapable of feeling anything. Emotions he once had in the past completely erased from his genetic code thanks to the rough teachings from his father. He grew up with no warmth of a mother’s touch, no grandmother, nor sister, just merely male presence for as long as he can remember. 

He hated smiling. Anytime his father caught him even so much as grinning, he earned himself a beating. He hated laughing. Anytime he would laugh for having fun, another beating, then no dinner. He hated crying. Anytime Tae would cry after a beating, or from hunger, he would only get beat even more - and possibly the loss of food privileges for a whole week. After a while, Kim Taehyung learned to not feel a thing. It’s the only thing that kept him alive. 

When he arrived at the party, he was greeted with friendly smiles, warm welcomes, you name it - they wanted to make him feel special. After his father’s death recently, he had been promoted to head boss - taking the news with a blank expression and curt nod. Never shed a tear about his father, or for this grand opportunity he’s been trained for since birth. He felt nothing. 

Jin accompanied Taehyung, being his ride to the event. Jin’s job was to be his smile, his laugh, anything that had to do with emotion - Jin was the man to be called. But, if the eldest didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he had seen Taehyung grinning at something when they entered; for a split second. 

“I’m gonna go scout for the others, and find our reserved table. Don’t do anything rash, remember your temper.” 

“Aish, Jin-hyung, you’re like the mother I never had.” Taehyung spoke with monotone, his hooded eyes never faltering. “I’ll be a good boy.” 

Jin raises his eyebrow in confusion. “Did…Did you just make a joke?” 

Blinking a couple of times, Taehyung turns away from him while looking anywhere else to distract this tingly feeling at his finger tips. Shrugging slightly, he starts walking away without another word to Jin, leaving him to stand there for moment. Scoffing softly, he just shakes his head. He would forever be a mystery to him. 

Taehyung walked forward with no particular destination, but he couldn’t stop. He was looking for something, someone perhaps, he just didn’t know who. It wasn’t until he had ran into a server with a tray in their hands did he snap out of his zombie-like state. A small gasp made him look down at the mess he had created, the girl in front of him looking as if she had just seen as ghost. Bowing multiple times, you apologize multiple times in one breath, lowering to floor to quickly gather everything you dropped so you could escape his sight before he could catch a good look at your face. The last thing you needed was to turn up dead the next day all because of a clumsy mistake. 

But, it wasn’t your fault, and he knew that. 

Everything around the two of had stopped, everyone staring in equal shock and sympathy as they all concluded that you probably just made the biggest mistake of your life. Taehyung stared down at you once more, eye twitching slightly as tears cascaded down your face as you practically begged for forgiveness for getting his blazer all messy. He didn’t like the sight, not in the slightest - usual he would find joy in someone pleading for mercy, but coming from you - it didn’t leave the right taste in his mouth. 

Without hesitation, Taehyung drops to his knees, helping you pick up the shattered glass piece by piece. You lowered your head even further to keep from making eye contact, afraid to see the look of rage in his eyes. He looked you over for a moment, seeing multiple cuts all over your hands from picking up shards of glass with your bare hands in such a hurry to get away from him. You looked so fragile, so scared, so…cute. It had been a while since he’s seen something like that. Gently as he could, he gripped your chin, lifting your head up to finally make eye contact with him. 

Gasping softly once again, your breathing stops altogether when you see all the emotion held in such soft brown eyes. They were so wide, so curious, nothing like in the stories people would gossip about on the streets. Tears still leaked from your eyes as you sat still, in fear that one wrong move could set him off. Taehyung on the other hand couldn’t understand this rapid beating in his chest, the same way it did when he first saw you when he came in - you were the one Jin almost caught him grinning at. 

“What’s your name?” He finally spoke, voice low so not to frighten you. “Please, tell me your name. I’m not going to hurt you, just please…” 

Gulping, you blink away a few more tears, sniffling before answering. “Y/n. My name is L/n Y/n. I’m 19 years old, I have no family except my little sister at home who needs me, she’s only 6, I bed you, please don’t…”

You start to choke on your own words at the tears once again started to flow, clenching Taehyung’s heart to the point he was extremely confused as to what this feeling was. Never has he experienced anything like this before, it being so long to where he’s forgotten the name for it. Pain? Anger? Sadness? 

Whatever it was, he didn’t want you expressing it any longer. Not wasting another moment, he picks you up into his arms, practically cradling you in way he could only wish someone did for him growing up. He not only surprised those all around him, and you, but himself as well. Blinking a couple of times, he glares.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” 

Just that alone was enough to make everyone practically sprint in different directions. Taehyung only scoffs before heading the direction went in, making you tense up in his arms more than before. 

“W-Where are you taking me?” 

He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking forward. When he had finally come across the rest of his group, they all stared up at him with either confusion or surprised; perhaps a combination of both. Tae takes his seat, not even considering their feelings about how this must look to them, now resting you on his lap. You practically vibrated in his hold, very confused as why you were there or what he wanted from you. What really shocked you the most would be how he wrapped his arms around your middle, hugging you to his chest while nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. 

Looking over his table for any explanation, you weren’t expecting them to all sudden have some kind of mental understanding as to why he was acting this way. Taehyung leans upward until he felt close enough to your ear, whispering softly into your ear that made your blood run cold. 

“I’m keeping you. You make me feel again.”

Jungkook 

➸ Jungkook was to be on his best behavior at this dinner, having been told that it was a meeting between long term rivals to finally end any bad blood that was between them. He understood completely; don’t be disrespectful, no dirty looks, don’t even so much as open his mouth. If they wanted this to be a sure thing, then he needed to be the golden maknae he’s been trained to be. 

Sure, that seemed like an easy to do, it’s nothing new to be told those rules whenever there was a meeting of importance. The only difference in this particular meeting that almost made shit hit the fan - their rival’s daughter was not only smoking hot…but also his soulmate. Now, Jungkook being the youngest, it was a whole lot harder to hide intense emotions that finding your soulmate could do to you. Just the sight of you made his heart race, his only focus being you as all his thoughts were only interested on what your name was, where had you been all his life, and how did you like your eggs in the morning after spending a night with him? The longer he looked at you, the more sinful his mind turned - to the point Jimin had to pinch him in the arm to bring his focus back on the meeting before anyone noticed. 

“What the hell could you possibly be staring at that hard?” He hissed under his breath, before blushing hard and looking elsewhere. “Are you aroused? Right now, are you fucking kidding me, Jungkook?” 

“It’s not my fault!” He bit back, blush covering his face as well. Wincing slightly at the sudden pain in his ankle, he jets his eyes to his left to see that Yoongi was give the two of them a warning glare. Jungkook couldn’t help the increasing tightness in his pants, having to bite his tongue to keep from whimpering at the slight throb. “Oh, fuck, it hurts…” 

He tried with all his might to hold in any noises he wanted so bad to let out, having to rest his head in his hands to take deep breaths to calm his racing heart. It wouldn’t have been overlook if his elbows hadn’t have slammed into the table - the sound echoing around the once tranquil meeting that was now more of an awkward silence. Jungkook could practically feel all eyes on him, and hear the faint sound of Namjoon face palming. Lifting his head up slowly, he sheepishly smiles. 

“S-Sorry…migraine.” He quickly covered, the boss not seeming to look fooled. But, with a small nod, he gestures for someone to come forward. Jungkook nearly choked on his spit when you walked past him, swearing that you had just ran your finger tips over his back. When you made it over to your father, he whispered something in your ear - you soon nodding that you understood. 

Walking over to him yet again, you placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to flash him a warm smile that nearly made him faint right then and there. Without speaking, Jungkook stood, crossing his hands in front of his crotch area to hide the evident bulge that was forming. Following your lead, the two of you exit the room to let them continue the meeting in peace. Once he was positive you were no longer within earshot of the room, he didn’t hesitate to pin you to the wall. 

“What did your father say?” He all but groans in your ear, making sure to grind his lower half into yours to let you know all that you’ve done to him without even touching him. “Does he know you’re my soulmate?” 

“N-No. He just said ‘take care of him’. But, he never specified on how.” You breathlessly spoke, holding onto his broad shoulders as you slowly started to lose your train of thought. The minute he walked in, you were intoxicated. Your vision became blurry, your palm sweaty; your mother had told you all the symptoms, you just never knew they would be this intense. “They way you looked at me, I knew you felt it, too.” 

“Why send you to escort me out, then? Not that I’m complaining.”

You moaned softly as his lips found that one sweet spot near your ear, it becoming harder and harder to think straight. 

“He wants me to learn the family business. He wants me to teach you a lesson, I-I guess - punish you f-for interrupting.” 

Jungkook grins slyly as he finally pulls away from the now purple mark blossoming on your neck. Your flustered state was definitely something he could get used to seeing - even if it had to be behind his hyungs’ backs, or your ruthless father. You were so worth it. 

“Well then…punish me, baby.” 

anonymous asked:

Prompt: eleven is popular And mike feels insecure about it (she gonna chose being popular over him) but she chooses him

HERE U GO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS PROMPT (massive thanks to @el-mike-jane for betaing this bc she’s the best)

Word Count: 3.5k 

Pairings: Mike/El, minor Lucas/Max

Rating: T (for language)

Mike Wheeler walks into science class to see everyone chattering, which is massively different from the typical dead-eyed stares of Mr. Sherman’s physics class. It’s the first class of the day, and Mr. Sherman speaks the way gray looks, so it makes sense.

Mike takes his normal spot by Dustin Henderson, their bard and only member of the party he has in this class. “What’s up with everyone today?”

“They’re announcing the nominees for Homecoming Court during class,” Dustin says, looking bored. “It’s all bullshit, but everyone else is excited.”

Keep reading

Thin Mints and Menthol (Steve Harrington x Reader)

This is now a series!

PART 2   PART 3

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: It’s set a year after Season 2 has finished and you’re a senior in high school who’s often getting into trouble with the law for petty crimes. And Hopper usually gets you out of trouble. Then one night the new officer Steve Harrington joins him.

Words: 1.7k (YIKES)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mild mentions of smoking, hints towards abuse. Slightly OOC Steve

A/N: Okay so this is the first time I’ve ever written anything so please go easy on me, I just love Steve and I’ve had this idea in my head for a few days so I had to write it down.


You sit on the cold step outside the gas station. Mr Pritchard stood looming over you smugly, as the Chevrolet Blazer pulls up, ‘Hawkins Police Dept.’ printed on the side. Parking itself roughly. Chief Hopper steps out of the vehicle quickly reaching into his pocket to his packet of cigarettes, he removes one and places into his mouth. He walks over to you whilst sparking up. There’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The passenger door suddenly opens, startling you, it was usually just Hopper himself who dealt with you.

Steve Harrington? That’s new. You chuckle slightly as he walks to join Hopper stood before you. He’s staring at you in confusion. You scoff and hang your head. “This is the third time this month you’ve been caught shoplifting (Y/N).” Hopper says as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “I’m starting to think you’re enjoying the excitement.” He chuckles.

“I’d raise my hands in defeat if this asshole,” you say jerking your head towards Mr Pritchard “hadn’t tied my arms in front of me with fucking rope.” Hopper glares at Pritchard, the old man crosses his arms in defiance to Hopper. He huffs slightly and begins to explain to Hopper that you had been trying to run away. Bullshit. Everyone knew you didn’t run once you were caught. As Hopper and him get into an argument you lean back and glance at Steve as he’s scribbling furiously in a notepad. The khaki coloured uniform he’s wearing looks freshly starched, his name tag shines under the glare of the street-lights. His hair is pushed back and looks neat, except for the strand that’s fallen out of place. It bounces in time with his writing.

“You, er, don’t need to do that”

“Huh?” He says stopping mid-word on the page. He stares at you confusedly.

“He never presses charges against me. I usually just get a two week ban.” You tell him, grinning. A small smile tugs at his lips. “That’s what you get for shoplifting a packet of Salem's’ I guess.”

Salem’s? Refreshing. Wouldn’t have pinned you for a menthol kind of girl” You both laugh. “Well, Hop- I mean, the Chief told me I should write everything down…” He says placing the pen in between the pages. He closes the notepad, holding it in his left hand. He stands awkwardly waiting slightly too close to Hopper. You’re shocked, since when did Steve Harrington want to be a cop? It was unusual to say the least, you always figured he’d end up at an Ivy League college. Yet here he was standing before you looking slightly uncomfortable. He’d been in the grade above you, and was ten times more popular than you were. The ‘King’. That was till Nancy Wheeler broke up with him, started dating the Byers kid, and he faded into obscurity. You’d still see him in passing but he’d mainly kept to himself focusing on his studies, always in the library. You’d heard rumors he was friends with some fourteen year olds, but you didn’t know him well enough to find out if they were true or not.

“Do want me to untie you?”

“What?” You ask as you realize you hadn’t been paying attention.

“The rope. Do you want me to untie it?” He asks again. You look at his hands. His notepad, you notice, is safely stowed away in his breast pocket.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, please. That would be great.” You say stuttering over your words slightly. You internally kicked yourself. You can’t believe you’re getting nervous over Steve fucking Harrington of all people. He bends down slightly, you’re inches apart, you can feel his breath on your cold hands as he reaches for them. You lift them up slightly from your lap. He starts to try and unknot the large knot that Pritchard had tied it with. He pauses and looks up at you, smirking. He lowers his voice.

“Now, you’re not going to dash the moment it’s unravelled are you?”

“On my honour.” You whisper. You smile at him.

“Oh, were you a Girl Scout.” He asks as he starts to work on untying you again.”

“Unwillingly, but yeah I was for about five years. Prettttttttttty sure, I sold you some Thin Mints once.” You told him struggling back a laugh.

“What, really? How old are you?” He moves his hands away from yours. You grin at him.

“I’m seventeen, but my birthdays in a week. I figured you wouldn’t recognize me.” He snickers quietly and slowly begins to tackle the knot again. You watch his hands move across the rope, grazing your wrists lightly, sending shivers up your arms.

“No I’m afraid I don’t think I’ve seen you around, I know I’d remember if I had someone like you before.” You look up at lock eyes with him. The rope around your wrists falls into your lap. Steve takes both your wrists in his hands and looks and the marks left on them. He rubs the rope burn with his left thumb. His brow furrowed, he opens his mouth as if to say something.

“Alright! I won’t press any further charges, just tell her that she needs to stay off of my property. For good this time, I’m giving her a permanent ban!” You both gaze up at the two men who had been having a heated debate about your actions.

“That seems fair. You hear that (Y/N)? You’re permanently banned from this gas station.” Hopper tells you whilst Steve helps you to your feet. “Permanent means no entry, and no sneaking in with a hat and sunglasses on like you did at the convenience store down street. Steve glances down at you with an amused look etched across his face. 

“You really did that?” He says questioning you.

“I thought it was a good idea at the time. I was very mistaken.” You tell him with a huff as you fold your arms, the temperature had dropped quite drastically. He leans his head back laughing, his hair moves like it has a mind of its own.You stare at him in awe. He is annoyingly pretty. You think to yourself. Boys like him shouldn’t be so pretty.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from joining him in his laughing fit. Instead you peer over at The Chief who’s not paying attention and is instead staring at his watch. He walks up to you and gently takes you by the arm and leads you towards the vehicle.

“We need to be leaving, its 9pm and I need to pick up El- I mean, Jane from Mike’s after dropping (Y/N) at her house.” He tells Steve who nods and makes his way over to the car, he gets in and you can see he’s still beaming. “See you later Fred.” Hopper says to Mr Pritchard as he opens the door for you.

“Bye Fred!” You say as Hopper pushes you into his car. Mr Pritchard walks into the gas station ignoring your exaggerated goodbye.The door slams behind him the car shaking slightly. He puts the keys into the ignition and sets off driving in the direction of your house. The mood in the car is some what hostile. You go to make a smart remark to relieve tension, but Hopper stops you.

“Whatever you’re about to say (Y/N), save it. This is your final warning. Like I said earlier this is the third time this month that someone’s stopped you shoplifting. I’m sure you’ve done it more you just haven’t been caught. I’m worried about you kid.” He gazes at you in the rear-view mirror, you turn away so you don’t make eye contact. “Next time I pick you up, you’re going to be in handcuffs. You understand?” You nod, there’s a prick behind your eye. Tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry… Sir.” The air is suddenly as icy as it is outside, despite the heating sputtering it’s warm breath around the car. You zone out and begin to stare outside, watching houses as they pass by. Wondering if their teenagers were as troublesome as you were. You’re startled as a tear falls onto your cheek, you quickly go to scrub your eyes. Uncaring if you smudge the eye make-up you have on. You didn’t want to let Hopper down, he’d looked out for you each time there had been an incident. And yet you knew he was serious this time despite always telling you it was the final time he was clearing up after your messes. Somehow the presence of Steve made you embarrassed. Why do I even care? I don’t even know him. You think to yourself. And yet looking at the wing mirror and seeing him give you a reassuring smile was comforting, you return it sadly and turn to stare out the window again.

As the car drove up to your house the lump in your throat grew. It was fear. Fear of what was waiting for you at home. The lights were on meaning you were in for a rough ride. You sit forward as the car draws to a halt. Wincing as your hand touches the cool metal of the handle.

“Tell your old man to go easy on you.” Hopper says to you. Without turning to face him you open the door getting out.

“Thanks for the ride boys.” You say plastering a fake smile across your lips as you slam the door shut. The grin instantly drops from you face as you make your way up to you red front door. You can feel both Jim and Steve’s eyes watching you.

“Do you think you could get me any of those Thin Mints? I’ve got a real craving!” You hear Steve shout to you. Turning to face him, he’s beaming from ear to ear. You start laughing, you flash him the middle finger and give him a sarcastic smile as you close the door. Blocking you off from the world. You place your hands on the door and lift your eye to the peep hole to watch as Hopper’s car rolls out of sight. You sigh as you hear angry footsteps approach you. Grabbing at your arm, pulling it from the door.

“And where the fuck have you been?”


Part 2?????

My Beloved is Mine and I am His: 13x02 and Song of Solomon

One of the first things I wrote when I was brand new to the fandom was a short fic with Castiel reading and re-enacting sections from the Song of Songs to Dean. At the time, I thought it was too cheesy and trite to fit within the realm of Supernatural, and I deleted it in a bout of frustration. I am regretting that today like you wouldn’t believe.

I’m a bit of a bible nerd. I took a lot of theology and religion classes in my undergrad. That was nearly a decade ago though, so my current knowledge is a bit shaky. Here’s what I can recall about Song of Solomon that may or may not inform your reading of 13x02 and SPN in general.

A disclaimer: I am sick and drug addled, so please forgive any incoherent rambling. There is a lot of irrelevant gibberish, so I’ve tried to highlight the bits relevant to SPN.

To begin!

Solomon is the heir of King David (whom you may recall had a passionate same-sex relationship with Jonathan.) Solomon’s reign is idealized, much like David’s was, and it was under Solomon that the First Temple was built. Solomon is famous for his wisdom and his large concubine of women. Notably, he settled a dispute between two women who were fighting over a child. He offered to cut it in half, revealing the true mother who could not bring herself to see the child hurt. This bears resemblance to Jack’s situation right now, torn between two fathers.

Song of Solomon (also known as Song of Songs, or the Canticles) is often attributed to Solomon because he is mentioned. However, the text is dated much later, and certain Persian words and influences in the text suggest a post-exilic era as the earliest possible date. Some scholars date it even later.

Song of Solomon is part of the collection in the Hebrew Bible known as The Writings (or the Kethuvim). It’s the third major division in the Hebrew Bible, and one of the last to be adopted into canon. It’s a bit of a catch all category that contains vastly diverse content including poetic works (Psalms, Song of Songs), and wisdom literature (Proverbs, Job, Ecclesiastes), to name a few.

Most of these writings (including Song of Songs) date to the post-exilic era. That is, after the Babylonian conquest, and during Persian rule. The nation of Judah perished in the fires that were set to Solomon’s temple. Post-exile, Judea was experiencing a theological crisis in the face of the apparent absence of Yahweh, or God. David’s dynasty has collapsed, and we see theological despair reflected in writings like Job and Ecclesiastes that ponder the problem of evil, the absence of God, and undeserved suffering. Song of Solomon, and other writings like it, were written at a time when things felt hopeless and there were fears that God has abandoned his people. It is oddly fitting then, that Jack should open to this particular part of the bible. 

The Kethuvim mark a shift in religious thought. Previous writings centred on an independent kingdom involved in international politics. After the fall of the temple, we see an exiled, diasporic religion now led by priests instead of divinely appointed kings. Religious leaders and writers had to adjust and re-envision their scriptural teachings. Gone was the simplistic thesis that equated prosperity with religious obedience and misery with sin. The authors of the books known as The Writings were questioning conventional scripture of the time and creatively refocusing their theology.

Persian rule also introduced new religious ideas, namely Zoroastrianism, which came to influence later Judeo-Christian ideas. Zoroastrianism viewed the world as dualistic, ruled by two opposing powers of good (light) and evil (dark) and had hierarchies of angels and demons. Until this time, most biblical literature did not give name or ranks to angels, nor did they depict satan as an actual autonomous figure. We have Zoroastrianism to thank for that, and its influence on biblical writings can start to be felt around the post-exile period (i.e. the time during which Song of Solomon was written). The book of Daniel, for example, names the angel Gabriel, and the Book of Tobit names the demon Asmodeus. (In Tobit, Asmodeus is a jealous demon who kills each successive husband of Sarah on her wedding night and is later exorcised. He is someone who keeps lovers apart and keeps them from consummating their love.)

Songs of Songs is essentially a collection of erotic love poems. The book defies any easy interpretation or classification, and it stands out in stark contrast to the rest of biblical canon. It’s a completely unabashed, uninhibited celebration of sex, with little evidence to suggest that the lovers are married. They do not live together, and yearn intensely for one another when apart. It’s the subject of numerous feminist readings, as it’s one of few books of the bible to give a voice to women’s thoughts and feelings. Here, those are romantic and erotic feelings.

Don’t believe me? Read this:

My beloved thrust his hand into the opening,
and my inmost being yearned for him.
I arose to open to my beloved,
and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with liquid myrrh,
upon the handles of the bolt.
(Song of Solomon 5: 4-5)

This is some raunchy stuff for the bible! And all of this is sharply contrasted with the sexual ethos elsewhere in the bible which imposes harsh penalties for sexual misconduct, and places great emphasis on the institution of marriage. Deuteronomy (a book of the bible about sexual and social control) calls for the death penalty in many cases

There was understandably some debate as to whether this particular bit of writing warranted inclusion in the biblical canon of scripture. Rabbi Akiba was a key figure in the development of the Hebrew canon. While he argued strongly against the inclusion of certain books of the Apocrypha, he advocated for the Song of Songs, calling it the Holy of Holies. Its sanctity was preserved by interpreting it as an allegory for the love between Yahweh and Israel, and later by Christians as the love between Christ and the Church. Interestingly, God is not mentioned once in the entire book. (The only other book of the Bible where God is not mentioned even once is Esther.)

And yet, this book was called the Holiest of Holies. Love is championed here above all else.

I really don’t think we’ve seen the last of Chuck. Someone (I’m sorry, I can’t remember who!) pointed out the rainbow glare that happened in 13x01 when Dean was praying as a sign of God’s promise. (Edit: I’m an idiot. I reblogged the damn thing and it was just a couple posts down. It was @gneisscastiel who made the beautiful post about lens flares and pointed out the rainbow as God’s promise.)  The inclusion of Song of Solomon in 13x02, besides being a blatant callout to Dean and Cas, suggests this is also about God and his people. I’d also like to suggest that Song of Solomon is a book that asks us to think broadly about canon. What constitutes canon? How is it formed? And I do mean canon here in the sense not just of biblical canon, but of fandom canon. Who decides what canon is? Is there room in canon for outliers like the Song of Solomon? The answer, as the show has just demonstrated, should be a resounding yes.

Onto the destiel side of things, which I’m sure has been discussed already. Song of Solomon contains some of the most beautiful poetry in the Bible. It is full of similes and references to nature (and arguably Eden/Paradise). It is deeply rural and pastoral, with an appreciation of agriculture, nature, and animal life. The multiple reference to sheep in 13x02 were no coincidence, I’m sure. Castiel has long been associated with natural, rural things: flowers, bees, goats, fish, etc. (If the Void is depicted as a garden and Cas has been spending his time under apple trees, I’m going to lose my freaking mind.) Is he being associated with sheep now? As someone who has been led by God, other angels, duty, Dean, Jack… perhaps this is time for Cas to choose a direction for himself. Sheep and lambs in the bible are also frequently marked for sacrifice. They represent symbolic innocence, and in the New Testament, Christ is called the “Lamb of God.” I definitely think Cas is being set up as a Christ-like figure with his death and anticipated resurrection. If 13x02 made anything clear, it’s that Cas is the answer the whatever problem faces Dean, Sam, and Jack alike.  

Lamentations might have been a more appropriate choice for the episode. It’s also a book of poetry, but one that evokes pain and loss. But they chose instead to give us the book that celebrates love and hope amidst despair. That’s a choice that feel very deliberate, and makes me cautiously optimistic for Dean and Cas.

 In closing, here are some passages from Song of Solomon, and the ones I feel are most closely tied to a destiel narrative.


“You have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes.”
(Song of Solomon 4:9)

“Set me a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm…”  
(Song of Solomon 8:6)

“… For love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame.”
(Song of Solomon 8:6)


“I will seek him whom my soul loves. I sought him, but found him not.” (Song of Solomon 3:2)

“My beloved is mine and I am his.” 
(Song of Solomon 2:16)

~College!au Pen Pal Jungkook~PART THIRTEEN

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12] [part 14:END]

Originally posted by jkguks

Jungkook quickly jogged in the direction of your dorm room. How could he be so stupid? Even if Y/F/N was his pen pal, he was willing to let go of you and your friendship? After everything? What a dick move, he thought to himself.

He didn’t know why you were the one apologizing when he was the dick who didn’t even look in your direction for the past two weeks. He wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t open the door.

“Y/N?” He lightly knocked on your room door. Were you even there?

“He’s here,” he heard a low voice through the door.

“Shut up, Tae!” He heard you shush through the door.

“Y/N, I know you’re there,” Jungkook sighed, leaning his arm against the door.

“I don’t need to hear it. I know I lied to you and I’m sorry, okay?” You murmured. 

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing. It’s me, really.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I was an inconsiderate asshole who deserted you. Sure, I was hurt because I thought you were just averting me from meeting my pen pal whom you knew all along. But a part of me knew you wouldn’t do that. Yet, I didn’t listen to that part of me. So I stopped seeing you. At first, it felt like I was empty but then it hurt. Really hurt. I saw you around, alone at the cafe or on campus and damn, I was crushed. But I had my stupid pride and ignored your obvious sadness. You don’t know how much I wanted to walk up to you sometimes, but those times were when I was around Y/F/N.”

He heard you scoff at the mention of her name. He continued, “I honestly can’t believe that I was willing to give you up over something so stupid. You’re way too special to me, Y/N.”

“Meaning?” Taehyung shouted from the other side of the door, urging him to go on. Jungkook heard the sound of a smack and Taehyung winced, “Ow!”


From beside you, Taehyung sat criss-crossed, rubbing his arm which had a newly formed red mark on it. “What was that for?”

“Be quiet, would you?” You pleaded, nodding your head towards the door.

“Meaning I care about you…a lot. Maybe a little too much, for my own good,” Jungkook replied vaguely. What was that supposed to mean? You wanted to urge him to elaborate but it seems, once again, Taehyung beat you to the punch.

“Which means?” 

“Y/N, I love you.”

Before you could process what Jungkook had just said, an inhuman sound was heard from next to you. 

Turning your head to the side, you saw Taehyung laying on the ground, clutching his chest, and his eyes shut.

“Namjoon hyung owes me twenty dollars!” He hollered, jumping up. “Y/N, I’m helping you out here. Have fun!” Taehyung opened the door and made eye contact with Jungkook for a split second, before breaking out into a grin. 

“Good luck,” Taehyung patted Jungkook’s arm and slid past him and ran out of your dorm. Your eyes stayed glued to the carpet floor under you.

“You what?” You managed to speak. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, awkwardly, he sighed, “Yeah, I know; funny way of showing it, right? But I guess I was just so hurt by what you ‘did’, and my pride got in the way.”

As if breaking out of your daze, you shook your head, “But I lied to you first. Yeah, you made me feel like absolute shit, but it was my fault. If I didn’t lie in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.” You stood up in front of him. 

“You had a good reason,” He said, softly.

“Being insecure? Wow, what a great reason,” You rolled your eyes at yourself.

Jungkook took hold of your hands, “I made you feel insecure. I was rude enough to accuse you for not being my pen pal once I got here. I’d do the same if a girl showed up at my door and looked at me the way I looked at you. But believe me, I never looked at you like that again.”

When you said nothing, he took it as an opportunity to keep talking, “As we kept hanging out, I realized how freaking attracted I was to you. Not because of your appearance, not gonna lie though, you rock the whole I don’t give a fuck about my hair look, but because of your personality. Whenever you were looking away or telling a story, man, I only had eyes for you. Call me cheesy but I don’t care. Y/N, I definitely don’t deserve you but please take into consideration my apology,” Jungkook pled, not letting go of your hands.

 Looking down at his hands holding yours, you realized just how well they fit together. Feeling your cheeks heat up, as if you were just remembering that he was confessing, you looked away. 

“Kook, I know you hurt me, but I forgive you.”

“That easily? No way. Can’t you yell at me or scold me?”

“Kook, I’m not your mother. I forgive you. It’s Y/F/N who I don’t, nor will ever forgive.”

Biting his lip, he looked down at you. “No offense because I knew you two were friends at one point, but she’s annoying as hell.”

“Oh, I know,” you scoffed with laugh.

“Seriously! If she wasn’t exposed I probably would’ve found out sooner that she wasn’t my pen pal. She was so…clingy? Definitely not my Sarcastic Princess,” he finished with a smirk. 

Your Sarcastic Princess, huh?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t realize. You’re the same person! I mean, at least I don’t feel bad anymore, though,” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Feel bad about what?”

“I was kind of torn…I had this small crush on her but then I had feelings for you and you have no idea how confused I was as to how I could like two people at the same time. Turns out, it wasn’t two people.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you said, “Well, hey, if it makes you feel any better, the feelings are mutual.”

“They are? Even after–”

“If my actions were so easily forgiven by you, why can’t be yours?” You shrugged. “Plus, who needs drama? I miss our lazy days when all we cared about was that essay we needed to write for the next day.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jungkook smiled, thoughtfully. If he didn’t love you as much before, he certainly did now. Relationships weren’t perfect, but for the two of you, your fizzle happened before it actually started, and that was okay.

“So? Past is in the past?”

“First I need to do one thing…Hm, make that two things,” Jungkook grinned. 

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Firstly,” He began, before cupping your cheeks and placed a soft peck to your lips. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make your heart race.

 After pulling away with a cheeky smile, Jungkook grabbed your hand and tugged you out of the room. 

“Secondly, how about we get some revenge?”


WOOP WOOP I LIED! ONE MORE PART OR SO AFTER THIS ONE!

Part 14?👀👀👀

9

I was lucky enough to attend the Pacific Rim: Uprising NYCC panel at Madison Square Garden (and sat in the first row ayyy~~) and took a bunch of notes lol. The panel included the director Steven S. DeKnight, and a few members of the main cast including John Boyega, Cailee Spaeny, Scott Eastwood, and Burn Gorman. Here’s my recap:

General Worldbuilding Tidbits

  • Pacific Rim: Uprising is set 10 years in the future after the last film. DeKnight said that they wanted to show a “new generation of Jaeger pilots who have known nothing but chaos.”
  • Previous characters slated to return, as seen by the trailer, include Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi), Dr. Hermann Gottlieb (Burn Gorman), and Dr. Newt Geiszler (Charlie Day).
  • The new main “trio” seems to consists of the main lead, Jake Pentecost, and the late son of Stacker Pentecost (John Boyega), Jake’s best friend and Jaeger pilot Nate Lambert (Scott Eastwood), and tech-savvy Amara Namani (Cailee Spaeny). 
  • 10 years later, the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps (PPDC) has come together to work as an international fighting force, with all of humanity working together - i.e. Jaegers are no longer coded by specific country, like the Russian Jaegers, Australian Jaegers, etc. 
  • This also allowed the opportunity to build Jaegers from the ground up, since they were all previously destroyed in the first film. It was jokingly claimed, “we cancelled the apocalypse and then un-cancelled it to make this movie.”
  • DeKnight discussed how  Del Toro originally set the table with Pacific Rim as a “fantastic visual feast,” so the goal with the sequel was to honor the original, but also expand the universe at the same time. 
  • John Boyega claimed that they weren’t trying to “rewrite what Guillermo Del Toro did, but rather to build upon and expand this universe, and where the humans are at now.”
  • Boyega also talked about how he came onto work behind-the-scenes creatively on the film as a producer. He described Pacific Rim as one of the only franchises he’s come across where the fans are hopeful and “sacred science fiction ground." 
  • Going in, Boyega felt like he had the same creative passion as DeKnight. When they met in LA for the first time, they went over the specific Jaegers and basically what Boyega wanted to see after Pacific Rim. He claimed that "I believe this is everything you want Pacific Rim to be." 
  • One of the goals of Pacific Rim: Uprising is to explain exactly what happened 10 years after the first film, but not necessarily be a complete detachment to the origin story. It was highlighted that there are a lot of young teenage characters in the cast and hopefully that’ll be something that new viewers can relate to. 
  • According to DeKnight, one of the overarching themes of Pacific Rim is: "It doesn’t matter who your parents are, the color of your skin, your religion, or sexual orientation, you can make a difference and be a hero. It’s the human inside the Jaegers that makes you super." 
  • Pacific Rim: Uprising was filmed both in Australia and China. The cast pretty much agreed that as a director, DeKnight runs a "relaxed” and “creative” set - it was a tough schedule, but the actors all felt that they could still have creative input.

New Jaegers

  • DeKnight called them all “badass,” with Gipysy Avenger leading the charge.
  1. Gipsy Avenger: Has a lot of upgrades, including a Gravity Sling which allows the Jaeger to reach out and grab buildings, cars, etc. and hurl them directly at the Kaiju.
  2. Bracer Phoenix: This is the brute force Jaeger. One of its special abilities, above many, is the fact that it’s a three-pilot machine. Therefore, the third pilot can drop into the chamber and operate a pair of massive guns called the Vortex Cannon.
  3. Saber Athena: This is the most advanced Jaeger in the fleet that uses Plasma swords. Also described as a “little experimental,”  and “incredibly swift.”
  4. Titan Redeemer: Has a special weapon called the “ball of death,” which is attached to the end of his arm. According to DeKnight, this was “pretty damn cool." 
  5. Guardian Bravo: Is another brute force Jaeger that has a special weapon called the "graphine arc whip." 
  6. Scrapper: Described as a "little guy,” that’s been slapped together. Since in the future, there are a lot of people pilfering and stealing PPCD technology to make their own Jaegers. 
  • During the Q&A, an audience member asked if all the new Jeagers run on analog. DeKnight claimed one Jaeger is built on sticks (lmao), but the general idea is that no EM-powered Kaijus will be able to take down the Jaegers in this film.

Jake Pentecost (John Boyega)

  • Boyega stated that he “loved the first movie and one of the reasons was Idris Elba.” So, he understood the big shoes that he had to fill. Boyega claimed he understood this responsibility, but  "we [the cast] all worked as a unit, and Jake Pentecost doesn’t exist without the other characters. This is also a great ensemble piece.“
  • When the moderator asked if Jake is trying to live up to Sacker’s legacy, Boyega jokingly claimed: "Hell no!” He went to explain that “the greatest heroes don’t accept legendary status. It takes a tussle and a turn and for Jake’s position. Where we find Jake in the beginning of the film is in very different circumstances from his Dad.”
  • Boyega described Jake as a “stealer, a hustler, and lives in half a mansion. He’s really a guy that doesn’t want to live up to the Pentecost name.”
  • Jake is bought back into the PPCD in a very unique way through his connection to Cailee Spaeny’s character Amara. So, Jake is bought into this adventure and decides that he’s gotta “step up,” after realizing that the “Pentecost name still means something to people." 
  • During the Q&A, an audience member asked Boyega what’s the most rewarding part of being a sci-fi icon. He claimed that he doesn’t feel like one, but working on both Pacific: Rim Uprising has been exciting, since it’s allowed him to jump into various elements of sci-fi that he loved growing up.

Nate Lambert (Scott Eastwood)

  • Eastwood described him as a Jaeger pilot who’s one of the best out there. Yet, he’s still "the tip of the spear,” and really nothing without his best friend Jake.
  • Jake and Nate still have issues in this movie to work out from the past, so Eastwood felt that coming back around and dealing with a lost time with these characters was something cool to explore as an actor. 
  • Eastwood also emphasized that while yes, there is plenty of action in the film, it “has a great story first and foremost.”

Amara Namani (Cailee Spaeny)

  • This was Spaeny’s first film that she was ever cast for. So, she was definitely intimidated and a bit terrified, but knew that fans were so supportive of the first film. 
  • Spaeny didn’t actually watch Pacific Rim until she got the audition for the sequel, and really took it upon herself to dive into the universe in order to understand and respect the original film.  
  • In terms of Spaeny’s film experience, there was also diving into tons of stunts and action and lots of skills that she to catch onto , since she was participating in a whole world that’s already been created. 
  • But Spaeny felt that both DeKnight and the cast were very supportive and helpful, whenever she had questions, so it was really easy for her to dive into Cailee’s character. She also bonded with DeKnight since this was the first feature-length, theatrical film that he ever directed. 
  • Spaeny described Amara as very “independent,” and super “badass.” She’s also a tech-savvy person. 
  • For Amara’s backstory, her entire family was killed in the first wave of Kaiju attacks. So, Amara really “takes it upon herself to dive into Jaeger tech and make sure that when Kaiju do come back, she’ll be ready to fight and protect herself." 
  • While Amara’s past is very different from Jake’s, Spaeny claimed that both of them still see a lot of things in similar ways.  

Dr. Hermann Gottlieb (Burn Gorman)

  • Gorman said he was very excited to be back in the sequel, which felt like "being back in the playground.” He also joked, "I’ve been lucky enough with this face that God gave me to play a few jerks on screen,” when an audience member briefly highlighted his past roles on Torchwood, Revenge, Game of Thrones, and The Dark Knight Rises. 
  • Gottlieb still has problems with personal hygiene. Gorman claimed, “let’s just say that he hasn’t changed his socks since the last film." 
  • In comparison to Charlie Day’s character (Dr. Newt Geiszler) who has moved onto the private sector, Gottlieb chose to stay behind with the PPCD and arguably their most important scientist at the highest level at this point. So, Gorman joked that Gottlieb now, in effect, has a "really great budget,” to work with now. 
  • However, DeKnight makes it clear that where we find Gottlieb is: “as a man still very much affected in what happened in the previous film in terms of his drift and communication with the Kaiju.

There was a brief Q&A and the last question really stuck out to me, where an audience member asked each cast member to sum up their Pacific: Rim Uprising experience in one word:

  • John Boyega: Unity
  • Cailee Spaeny: Life-Changing
  • Scott Eastwood: International
  • Steve S. DeKnight: Mind-blowing
The Problem [m]

Genre : smut
summary : Listen, you really hadn’t meant to think of your friend whilst you got off, but it happened.

“Just tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone else - it’s not me is it?”

“No!”

You said it far too quick. Damn.

 You could feel him moving closer. “Oh … that’s a twist.”

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