Make that a party of two! I'm not sure which I love more. Drunk!Snow or Emma being thoroughly confused at the end.... (Also, if this doesn't end in a drunken hope speech they are so doing it wrong. And I will eat my boots.)
I’m getting more and more people who are telling me they liked it so let’s rejoice together!!!
This bar scene looks like so much fun and emotional. I’m sure the actresses really enjoyed filming it!
You are Big Hit’s newest trainee, and you have the luck to be
tutored by BTS. But the thing is no one asked them before installing
you in their dorm. They’re mad, but you’re stronger than you look.
He pressed his plump lips into a thin line, concealing his beaming
expression as he walked swiftly towards her and took a seat by her side with a
loud sigh that startled her, taking her out of her reverie.
‘Sorry.’ He mumbled in a quiet voice, a shy smile dancing on his lips.
‘Don’t worry.’ The smile she responded him with was tense, and it
immediately vanished when she frowned, returning her attention to the screen.
He looked at her askance as her eyes automatically perused Yoongi’s figure,
huddled up in the floor between Taehyung and Jimin, his eyes stubbornly fixated
on the movie.
At that exact moment, Namjoon realized he regretted nothing.
He would do what he had to so she would only look at him.
They returned to the room with grim expressions.
Yoongi entered first, and you readjusted yourself in
the couch, making sure he had enough room to sit comfortably, but he passed by,
expressionless and with his eyes strained on the floor. He sat between Jimin
and Taehyung, who questioned him wordlessly. Yoongi nodded reassuringly and started
watching the movie again as if he had never left.
All I can see is Jasper finally seeing Octavia, a girl he cared deeply for, for the first time since the war between the 100 and the grounders and in the moment of it all and seeing Octavia turn into the warrior is truly is, and all he can say is
Let’s just talk about this small moment right here. It’s so simple, okay? It’s easy, it’s like a habit, as though they’d been doing this their entire lives when in reality it’s only been three quiet but incredibly special weeks. It’s comfort, it’s home, it’s them. He stops what he’s doing, steadies his hands and turns his head, because she’s there, she’s home, she’s with him; where he always wanted her, and where he needs her. He forgets about the dinner he’s supposed to be making when he feels her arms wrap around his torso, head pressed to his back and eyes shut tight. He’s used to this, to her constant need to be near him, to be touching him, to stand beside him. He’s grown accustomed to it. He enjoys it, and loves it, he lives for it. He lives for little moments like this. Little fragments of time when it’s just the two of them alone, not having to worry about anyone judging them for deciding to be happy, for wanting to spend eternity with each other, for starting their own forever. It’s their choice, it’s their secret little marriage bubble that they’re living in, and it’s each other’s bodies that they’ll be comforting every night as they fall asleep and every morning when they wake. He’s used to this; to a small but delicate smile working its way onto his lips with a simple ‘hi’ when he knows she’s there, she’s home, she’s with him; she is his. She’s where he wants her, where he’s always needed her to be.
I heard the old spring in the screen door protest as I
slammed it behind me as hard as I could.
But no sooner had my boot touched the gravel in the parking lot, and Sam
was running out the door behind me, his arm outstretched and his hand gingerly
grazing my shoulder. Again, I pulled
away, desperate not to feel the jolt of electricity his touch seemed to send
through me. I’d felt that before, I knew
what it meant, and I was never going to go there again.
I whirled around,
locking eyes with the tall statue of a man that was Sam Winchester. “No hard feelings, Sam,” I cooed, a forced
cheer in my voice that sounded plastic and insincere. “I just really want to
hit the road. Nice running into you.”
“Y/N, wait.” His eyes bored into mine, still laced with
concern. “My brother, he can be an
idiot. But he does mean well. Let us help you. We know that brewery. And if there’s a job there that we missed,
there’s no way we can leave it that way.
Not a chance.”
I could understand
his appeal. A job left undone was a
monster left alive, which only ever meant more innocent people dying. That had never been something I’d let slide
but still, I hesitated, dropping my eyes down to the gravel and allowing my
false smile to fade as I pulled the corner of my lower lip into my mouth and
under my teeth, trying to figure out what possible outcomes there could be.
“Your brother…” I started.
“He’s a jerk.”
“Who’s a jerk?” Dean’s
voice followed the creak of the front door.
Sam and I both turned our eyes to him as Sam answered. “You are.”
Dean looked him in
the eye and without a second thought, replied “Bitch.”
I rolled my eyes and
turned back towards my car, fiddling with the keys in my pocket.
“Y/N?” Sam called.
“You guys coming or
not?” I asked as I fit my key into the
driver’s side door lock and opened the door.
“We’ll follow you,”
Dean rejoiced behind me.
“Or we could just
let her drive,” Sam suggested. Dean’s
face contorted, a look of disgust seemed to replace his jovial smile.
“I never ride bitch.”
I smiled, a
sarcastic glint in my eye. “Aww now
honey, I don’t think that’s true at all.”
He narrowed his eyes at me before swallowing hard and stomping off over
to his Impala. Sam hung his head, a
smile barely visible on his face.
My foot found its
way into the driver’s side foot-well as I took my seat in my cherry red 1975
Ford Maverick. “You coming?” I asked Sam
as I turned the ignition and reached for the seat belt. A minute later, Sam was hunched over in the
passenger seat, desperately trying to look comfortable.
I pressed play on
the MP3 player that I had hooked up to the stereo as Nirvana took over the
speakers. “Go ahead and get some shut eye,” I said, throwing my words in Sam’s
direction. “We’re only about four or
five hours from St. Louis, tops. I’m
good.” My mouth curled into half of a
smile as I threw the car into first and pointed it towards the highway. I could hear the rumble of Dean’s engine kick
in behind me as he followed.
We pulled into the parking lot just after two
in the morning. Sam had slept the
majority of the way, only waking up when his cell phone rang with a call from Dean
imploring me to slow down to let him keep up.
I jostled Sam’s arm lightly, just hard enough to rouse him without
“Hey there, sleeping
beauty.” I joked. “We’re here.”
“Okay,” he responded,
rubbing his eyes sleepily with the backs of his hands. “What motel are we heading for?”
“Motel?” I asked,
confused. He nodded.
“There’s a hotel
attached to the brewery,” I said, dumbfounded that he hadn’t remembered. “Supposedly, it’s just as haunted, if not
more so. We’ll just stay there.” He looked over at me quizzically still.
“Don’t you need to
get some sleep before jumping in?” His
eyes were full of concern again, with a hard set jaw and furrowed eyebrows for
emphasis. I shook my head nonchalantly. “I’m good.”
I pulled my rock salt shells out of the back seat and opened my door
just as Dean was pulling in and made my way to the trunk.
I grabbed my shotgun
along with my rings and a few other weapons just to make sure I was
covered. “Need to make sure the
accessories match the hardware?” Dean asked, curmudgeonly referring to the
rings I was currently slipping on to each of my middle fingers.
“Iron.” I said by
way of explanation. “Easier than
reaching for a crow bar that might not be there.” I demonstrated my technique as I punched the
air, leading with my ringed knuckle. His
eyes widened, as if the idea had never happened upon him.
Slinging my satchel
full of spare bullets over my shoulder, I closed the trunk and headed for the
front door followed closely behind by the Winchester boys, each packing their
“Don’t they look
this place up at night?” Sam asked as I pulled out a bobby pin and set to work
on the front door.
explained. “Employees supposedly all
leave around ten each night and don’t come back until six in the morning.
Luckily,” I observed, “I have a key.” The final tumbler clicked over and the
doorknob turned freely, allowing us entry into the haunted hotel.
entered, each grasping our weapons close to us as we glanced around on
alert. There didn’t seem to be anybody
around. There was a dark room with
violet wallpaper that looked like velvet off to the left with a creepy portrait
of a Victorian era woman dressed in elaborate gowns. Her eyes seemed to follow you around the
room. We kept moving throughout the main
“No cold spots, EMF’s
useless in these old places.” Sam tucked his home made EMF detector into his
pocket, never letting his eyes settle in any place for too long.
bellowed, walking into the next room. “A
bar.” There was a long bar with multiple
bottles of amber liquid behind it and four chairs lining the outside of
it. “Poor you a drink, ma’am?” he asked
me, all chivalry and false bravado. I
rolled my eyes huffily and pointed up above Dean’s head at the security camera
aimed conveniently at the exact place he stood.
His face straightened and he quickly walked into the dining room.
Sam and I stayed in
the bar room, taking in the walls and observing everything that we could. “You feel that?” he asked me. I nodded.
“Cold spots. All over the place.” I let my breath out only to see a fine mist
rise in front of me. The grip I held on
my shotgun tightened as my senses heightened.
“Do you see anything?”
I asked Sam as I slowly turned around to face Sam. We locked eyes momentarily, and I noticed his
gun at the ready and his sites aiming straight at me.
<b>Hanji:</b> This shit is boring. BRING ME THE GAY!<p/><b>Armin:</b> C-commander I'm not sure what you mean by that.<p/><b>Hanji:</b> It means you better pick a boy to take care of your sweet ass tonight.<p/><b></b> ~•~<p/><b>Hanji:</b> *slaps Jean's ass*<p/><b>Jean:</b> Commander! I don't like that!<p/><b>Hanji:</b> Oh, that wasn't meant for you.<p/><b>Jean:</b> Then who-<p/><b>Hanji:</b> Marco just wanted to see your ass jiggle.<p/><b></b> ~•~<p/><b>Hanji:</b> Y'ALL ARE MARRIED NOW!<p/><b>Levi:</b> WTF?<p/><b>Hanji:</b> NOW MAKE ME AN AUNTIE! GIVE ME U BABIEZ!!!<p/><b>Eren:</b> But he's my captain!<p/><b>Hanji:</b> Did I stutter?<p/><b></b> ~•~<p/><b>Hanji:</b> *salutes* FROM NOW ON THIS IS OUR ANTHEM, REPEAT AFTER ME:<p/><b></b> IT'S OKAY TO BE GAY<p/><b></b> LET'S REJOICE TO THE BOYS-<p/></p>
It’s always interesting to conduct an informal retrospective. By cataloguing my life over the past few months, I realize how much my heart is blind to blessings and the collision of God in my daily life. Equally as important, I am able to identify the moments in which God’s presence was fiercely apparent. Over and over again, I find myself dumbfounded at the grace of Christ that permeates my life.
There have been challenges. I’ve seen loved ones slip away. I’ve found myself accidentally mention a name in a prayer for a person who is with the One to which I pray. I’ve experienced the fading of friendships as physical and emotional separations took their toll as time crushes forward. My personal strengths and weaknesses have become shockingly apparent over the past few months. When given the chance to remain silent or attempt to reach out to people, I frustrate myself with my complacency with silence. I’ve witnessed the rapid evolution in my understanding of responsibility and teaching. Before I started this school year, I never fully realized how true teaching involves the education of the entire person. I’ve wept for my students, as well as rejoiced for their successes. I once heard a professor attest to these emotions and shrugged it off as weakness. With my experiences this year, I now know these emotions are a sign of strength and commitment.
I can look back and focus on everything that went wrong or not as planned. I could shake my fist and ask the unanswerable questions that everyone always seems to ask of our infinite God.
Instead, I realize that it is in my weakness and brokenness that God is found.
He is the God who grieves with us.
He is the God who breaks the silence and whispers to our hearts, “Let me redeem your relationships.”
He is the God who weeps and rejoices with us.
He is the God who revealed on a cross that apparent weakness can be ultimate strength and sacrifice.
These findings are what I chose to embrace when I look at my life. It is this history I choose to remember. While I am not one for nostalgia, I choose to see the grace of Christ at work in all my circumstances. I chose to rejoice with gratitude.
And maybe I have too much love to give you. Maybe I would drown you like the waves in the ocean and you would struggle to breathe beneath the immense pressure of my heart and my arms.
My love is not for the weak, it is for the strong and I see a strength in you that I have not seen in anyone else. You told me that you were a water child and it has taught me to hope that instead of fearing the waves of my love you would swim and rejoice inside them and let me cradle you in the gentle lull of all the things I have always wanted to give you.