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History of YOI fandom

As a YOI fandom grandparent, I felt it was my duty to write out all the fandom explosions for the newer fans who weren’t there to witness the big bang and gradual week-by-week creation of this universe. All the arguments, people blowing things out of proportion, blaming characters, death theories, awesome fans clearing up miscommunications, YOI breaking the internet… 

This isn’t a post to call out specific people on their arguments and theories - I’ll stay respectfully away from restarting flames and picking fights, thankyouverymuch. Rather, this is an overview of the topics and conflicting views that swept across hundreds and thousands of people and prompted strong reactions. I’m doing this now, because I know that 6 months later, 1 year later, 3 years later, etc. there will be new fans who will have many of the same exact arguments. We’ve been there and done that. I see fans now who say things without knowing where the spelling/quote comes from, or who don’t realize how much has changed, or don’t know why there are certain perceptions of characters. So here’s a little bit of passing down history.

I also don’t want to forget the crazy ride this was. Laugh with me at the silly theories; smile with me at how deeply YOI has impacted our lives.
For those of us old-timers, let’s take a trip down memory lane. Remember when…

—————-
(Large arguments will be italicized or bold. Special thanks to @sachiro for reminding me of a bunch of stuff I missed, and looking over the draft in its various stages of being written and edited.)

Pre-series

  • Idea that there would be a love triangle (Yuri P.–Yuri K.–Victor)
  • Some fans started spelling Yuri Katsuki with two “u” in order to tell them apart.
  • Victuri ship name created for Victor x Yuri K. (in a comment to the PV)
  • The title
    • “lol ‘Yuri’ on Ice? Where are all the lesbians?”
    • “When it said Yuri on Ice, I thought we would get girls. Y’know what I mean?”
    • “Yuri on Ice? More like Yaoi on Ice! amiright?”
    • etc.
  • J.J. misspelling (English spelling “Jean Jack” instead of French Canadian “Jean-Jacques”)
    • you can see the remnants of this in the audience banners during the episodes, but it was corrected to “Jean-Jacques” on the official website and the in-show text
  • Phichit x Seung-gil ship created (there was more art for this than for Victor x Yuuri)

Episode 1

  • Victor vs. Viktor spelling arguments 
    • Although “Victor” is the official spelling and seen in-show, people argued that the creators are wrong and that we fans know better than them about Russian culture - thus the “Viktor” spelling was born.
    • People argued back that spelling is subjective and you can spell a name multiple ways and still be correct - thus transliterating his Russian name into English as “Victor” would be just as acceptable.
    • The YOI wiki held fast for a time on using official spellings and information from the official website, but the transition of power led to a new team that started using agreed-upon info rather than solely using official info. “Viktor” replaced “Victor” on the website.
      • this change from “Victor” to “Viktor” on the wiki happened around episode 2~3, but the arguments were in the page comments since episode 1 – with moderators explaining their reasoning with sticking to official sources.
  • Victor is a flirtatious over-the-top character who will seduce Yuuri
  • Victor is the overwhelming seme and Yuuri is the shy whimpering uke.

Keep reading

[S**k- March’17] Onew said Minho never uses the wallet that he bought for him. Jonghyun asked Minho the reason as to why he doesn’t. He replied that it’s because the wallet is a limited edition wallet.

Onew said he’ll buy 2 wallets for him next time then. One to use and another to keep.

(x)

7

When the season 2 hype takes over your entire goddamn apartment.

NetworkBangtan Bingo - Magazine

I didn’t know what to add for the subtitles. I thought of scandal magazines and then thought on how much I want to sue Jin for offending me with his looks and vocals. Please don’t take the subtitles seriously. I’m… not sure where I was going with his concept. I just wanted to attempt a veil. Aha…………

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Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 7)

Just one more chapter to go! <3

Chapter 7 – Find Me

Edinburgh, Present day

Claire placidly munched her cereals – a bit soggy for her taste – as she inspected the cover of The Scottish Sun, frowning in concentration. The evocative headline occupied almost half of the front page, with a photo illustrating their cover story – “Murrayfield Hero ready to go home!”. The image – certainly captured by one of the first reporters at the scene – showed Jamie wearing his full firefighter gear, walking out of what seemed like the dooryard from Hell, carrying one of his men – probably unconscious - on the shoulder. The article promised more details and juicy revelations on page four (“From Broch Mordha to Edinburgh’s hottest”), page five (“Other legends on the Fire Department”) and page six (“The heartbreaking testimonies of Fraser’s braveness”).

“One would think that almost turning into crisped bacon was the fastest route to stardom.” She snorted to herself, taking a sip of rich and dark coffee. “I bet they are scavenging the Highlands for gossips about Edinburgh’s new sweetheart.”

The last couple of weeks had seen an increasing interest on Jamie’s persona by the media – the well-liked Station Officer with an irreprehensible career, respected both by men under him and by the ones in charge behind a desk; the lone wolf, by all reports divorced years ago, that refused all approaches from desirable women and seemed to wear an irremovable chastity belt; the loving son, who accompanied his crippled father until his death two years ago; the hunk,  spotted working out without his shirt on, delighting all women in the headquarters’ neighbourhood.  

Claire tried to avoid every conversation that contained even the slightest mention of Jamie – a considerable feat, since even the nurses continuously buzzed about how handsome and well-mannered he was.

After his shattering revelations – which had thrown Claire into a new spell of insomnia, which she used to get her charts up to speed – their conversations had consisted mainly of monosyllables and medical exchanges. She would check his drains; he would ask about a prevision to start physical therapy on his hand. She looked for signs of infection on his surgical wounds; he told her his pain was a four on a scale of one to ten. She compressed her lips, trying to avoid screaming at him; he said nothing, accepting her radioactive silence with the hopeless patience of a convict sentenced to imprisonment for the rest of his days.

Claire knew he was trying to give her time to process their conversation, before touching the subject again. His Fraser stubbornness, usually despairing, was serving him well in that instance.

Knowing his reasons had changed the starting point of their fallout – but not the outcome. He had tried to protect her and give her the life she was meant to live – and in that harrowing attempt, had failed to comprehend that, without him, every achievement felt void of its meaning. Jamie had used lies as a gift – and the unwrapping had broken both their hearts. Where once stood sadness and incomprehension, now rested anger and betrayal, pumping from her with every heartbeat, crushing her vessels with their intensity.

But the most unbearable pain, the one that kept her awake at night, was the undeniable desire to forget it all – to take him in her arms and cradle him against her repairing heart. To kiss him and feel him melting against her – to bite his lip and taste his blood, knowing it pulsed with her name. To hear him whisper his secrets and the truth in them.

“Bloody man.” She whispered, her fingers reluctantly caressing his picture. “What am I going to do with you?”

****

“Thank ye for taking me.” He repeated for what was probably the tenth time. “The lads were supposed to get me but they’re shorthanded as it is in the department.”

“No problem.” She replied shortly, driving through Edinburgh’s streets, immersed in the evanescent light of dusk. Claire had offered to take him home after his discharge from the hospital, using the employee entrance to avoid the questions and flashes of journalists. “At least this way I know you won’t do anything stupid with your hand, until you’re actually inside the house.”

“Hm.” He snorted with mirth, looking at his still- bandaged hand. “I’m just glad I’ll be sleeping in my own bed, without anyone waking me to ask if my bowels moved already or spooked by the beeping sounds of the wee machines.”

“Which way now?” Claire asked, softly tapping the steering wheel with her fingers, as they achieved a deserted crossroad.

“Left.” Jamie gave her a renitent half-smile. “Ye’ll keen the way from here, I suppose.”

“Yes.” Claire breathed out, a tight knot forming inside her throat. “I believe I do.”

The building of their old apartment was visible down the street, looking exactly as she remembered it – the earthy tones of the façade vivid, that used to remind her of the soil of her flowers, fertile and homely. Propelled by the sight, memories came rushing back, as if they had been expecting to be summoned just in the corners of her conscience, brutal as needles in the back of her eyes.

“I received half of the money when the apartment was sold.” She blurted incredulous, blinking furiously in the half-light. “The man who bought it was someone named Angus MacKenzie.”

“He is a friend.” Jamie said softly. “He sold it back to me as soon as the deal was done.”

“Why would you want to live in this place?” Claire asked nervously, brushing back some of her curls, which had been falling over her face. “After everything that happened?”

“You were still here.” He whispered in a hoarse voice. “In a sense. The mattress of our bed had the shape of your body carved. There was the wee spot on the kitchen’s wall, were tomato sauce spilled, because we were too busy making love on the floor. The curtains ye chose, because ye never had such a house before, and a true home needed proper curtains.” Jamie looked at her, his eyes soft. “This house is everything I had left of ye, Claire. I couldna leave it.”

“You should have burnt it.” Claire hissed, fighting back the surge of emotions that made her vulnerable to his words.

I don’t want you anymore.

I loved you well.

She parked the car in silence and helped him getting out, prescinding of the assertive tenderness she usually applied to every wounded creature. They slowly climbed up the stairs – the elevator being broken again – until the third floor, the former residence of a happy newlywed couple.

Jamie opened the door with his keys – he still used the same keychain, Claire noticed, of a leaping stag shaped in silver. She had offered it to him, on their first Christmas together.

“I need to use the bathroom.” He smiled shyly. “I’ll be right back, aye?” And without waiting for her agreement, he rapidly strode out of her sight, as if to avoid that she used the opportunity to say her final goodbyes.

The living room was almost precisely the same – photographs taken more than ten years apart would only show small changes, like a different elegant cream-coloured rug and a new lamp by the corner. Everything else seemed to have been caught in the webs of time, as an insect amid flight trapped by a predatory spider.

Claire’s eyes travelled across the tomes on the bookcase – where some new volumes had been added to Jamie’s impressive collection, sleeping next to their photographs – and her eyes were attracted by a drawer’s open crack. Feeling ashamed, but somewhat entitled, she slid it open until the full compartment was exposed.

With her hands shaking, she grabbed the magazine on top of the pile – an old issue of The American Journal of Medicine. She recognized it instantly – she also had a copy of that same issue, stored in one of her boxes since the move. Abandoning any attempt at discretion, she surveyed the contents of the drawer.

Jamie seemed to have found every publication where her name came up – from obscure magazines where her name had been cited after another dozen; to the most reputed surgical journals, with her articles and findings front and centre. It must have been a constant and tiresome job, keeping up with her career, for someone not even in the medical field.

How many hours had he laid there, only their ghosts for company, the consolation of her success a bittersweet drug to numb the pain?

All those days between what they had been and what they were now, forever lost – no regret or anger would win them the right of a replay. But perhaps they still had the chance of stealing tomorrow; of reclaiming the piece of themselves left behind, placing their stones and pillars to build a new sacred place, a new life.

“In my darkest moments, it helped.” She listened his deep voice say from where he stood by the door, his eyes secluded. “Knowing that what I did had some meaning. I celebrated each one of yer victories from afar, as I couldna be kissing ye as I wished.”

“It was your choice.” Claire replied, forcibly closing the drawer.

“Aye.” Jamie said, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I told ye – I dinna regret what I did. But I do regret every tear you shed and every unhappiness I may have caused ye. That I regret…most terribly.”

“If I hadn’t come back and found you by accident…” She said, her arms hugging her body in defence. “Would you ever tell me the truth?”

He tilted his head, his auburn hair coming alive with the slight reflection of the white glow outside. Jamie walked until he was closer to her - able to touch her in an instant, if it wasn’t for the barrier they had both fought so hard to erect.

“There was a time when I thought it a blessing to know what ye were thinking at all times.” He licked his lips and closed his eyes, his long lashes shielding bottomless blue. “My glass faced lass. Now I only see yer pain and yer hate - and it kills me. I’d rather be dead than to see ye so. No – I wouldna say a thing. I wished to let ye live yer life and, hopefully, forget me.”

“How could I forget you?” She whispered. “And how can I forgive you?”

“I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes, Claire.” Jamie swallowed hard. “And if it canna be in this life, I shall pray for a chance to meet ye again in the next - and find yer forgiveness there.”

“I don’t know how to start.” Claire brushed her forehead with her fingers, breathing fast. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Tell me how I’ve hurt ye.” Jamie slowly touched her hand. “Speak to me about what has been broken. I am still the man ye loved – and what ye dinna ken about me now, you can learn in time.”

“And if I don’t want to?” She said slowly, tilting her chin to avoid his scorching gaze.

“Then know I shall love ye forever.” Jamie brushed her knuckles with the fingers of his sane hand. “Ye are my home, mo nighean donn.”

“This home is lost, Jamie.” She sobbed, the pressure of his fingers making her flesh tingle. How many times had they stood there, him whispering his love, her believing it with all her heart?

They were bathed almost in complete darkness – night had fallen outside and the scarce light that came from the lamppost by the window dipped them in shadows. Jamie swished, as if he was about to fall on his knees – but his hand came up then and he touched her cheek, insecure and tentative.

“But it can be found again.” He softly kissed her forehead, real against the absence of light surrounding them. “Find me, Claire. Find us.”

I definitely wasn’t Archie! I think I was more like Clay in the sense that I was a little naïve. There were girls I had crushes on who wanted nothing to do with me. And I’m pretty sure there were girls who liked me but I didn’t really pick up on it. I just thought we were good friends! I was like, “Oh, you want to see a movie, just with me? Cool.”
—  On a scale of Clay to Archie, how did you do with girls when you were in high school? {Ross Butler for Cosmopolitan}

anonymous asked:

hey! could you recommend any Spanish TV shows?

ok, so there are TOO MANY. I’m gonna split them into two categories: historical drama (soap operas, really) and “modern” shows, basically because many soap operas tend to use a Spanish we don’t really use anymore. I’ll also add the TV channel, because most of them have the episodes on their websites. If not, try pordede.

HISTORICAL DRAMA/SOAP OPERAS

I feel like most of our TV shows are soap operas. Here you have a list

  • Amar en tiempos revueltos/Amar es para siempre (TVE/Antena 3). Ok so this soap opera was produced by Spain’s national television, but now it belongs to Antena 3 and the name has changed to Amar es para siempre. It’s about the lives of a group of neighbours in a working-class neighbourhood in Madrid. It starts in the 40s or so, and currently they’re in the 60s. Many characters change from season to season, and it airs from Monday to Friday, Friday being more “intense”. It deals with the problems people faced during the dictatorship (abortion, forbidden love, poverty, sexism (still happens lmao), LGBT issues, etc.), but it also talks about love and gossip. You don’t have to watch it from the beginning, just start one day and keep watching it.
  • El secreto de Puente Viejo (Antena 3). So this takes place at the beginning of the XX century in a small village called “Puente Viejo”. There’re many things related to the political situation of the moment and it tells the story of the citizens of the town. I’d recommend this show if you have a really good level, because they use really old-fashioned Spanish. The acting is not that good, tho.
  • Velvet (Antena 3). This is actually about to end THIS WEEK, and parts of the last episode will be aired LIVE. If you liked Sense8, Miguel Ángel Silvestre is in this show. It’s about a chain of department stores and the lives of those who work there. Takes place in the 50s.
  • Gran Hotel (Antena 3). Kinda like Downton Abbey but in a hotel
  • Cuéntame cómo pasó (TVE).  The title is a famous song . This has been airing for… 17 years? It’s about the life of a kid from Madrid (he starts as a child, now he’s 18) in fascist Spain. It’s really good to see how Spanish society evolved and became more modern, or the changes in the country in general. I think that now they are in the 80s, but I stopped watching. The language is not difficult since it deals with daily issues, and you might learn slang! You don’t have to watch it from the beginning.
  • Seis hermanas (TVE). This is quite new. It’s about the life of six sisters in an upper-class family during the Industrial Revolution in Spain. Never seen it.
  • Águila Roja (TVE). This show had a lot of success, then they stopped. Then they came back. This takes place in medieval Spain, and that’s the only thing I can tell you because I’ve never seen it.
  • Isabel (TVE). A show about the life of the queen Isabel. It was quite successful.
  • El caso (TVE). This show is named after a magazine that existed during the dictatorship. They published news about murders, kidnapping, etc. This show talks about the life of the members of the magazine, and also shows the problems they had as people and as journalists during the dictatorship.

MODERN SHOWS

  • Aquí no hay quien viva (Antena 3). A CLASSIC. It’s over now, but it was quite good. It’s all about the lives of a group of neighbours who live in the same building. You have the rich girl, the three old women, the gay couple, the girl that never finds a boyfriend, and a great cast in general. I think that this shows represents modern Spain very well, and the Spanish they use is the one we use when we talk, so you’ll learn slang too. There’s a “sequel” called “La que se avecina” but I don’t really like it.
  • Aída (Telecinco). This was really good. It’s about the life of a woman called Aída in a working-class neighbourhood. You have other characters, of course, and most of them are quite funny. It’s really good for language learning because they use modern Spanish. They’re also good at showing what Spain is like.
  • El Ministerio del Tiempo (TVE). Ok so everyone LOVES this show. The writer actually finished the show while he was dying at the hospital. Anyways, this is about the Ministry of Time, a Ministry of the Spanish Government that has agents that travel to the past to solve some problems that would affect our present (most of them are related with Spanish history). You have characters from different historical periods that travel in time together. THIS IS SO GOOD.
  • Los misterios de Laura (TVE). Have you ever seen the American show “the mysteries of Laura”?. Well, that’s actually the copy of the original one, the Spanish version (which is WAY better). It’s about a woman who is a police officer, and she has to solve crimes. But she’s quite comical and the show is also about her relationship with her colleagues and relatives. There’s humor. Really good to learn vocabulary related with crime.
  • El Barco (Antena 3). So this show is over, but everyone loved it. It’s about a group of people who are in a ship and land just disappears, and they think they might be the only ones alive in our planet. Lots of drama.
  • Los Serrano (Telecinco). This show is over, and let me tell you, everyone HATED the ending. It’s about a family, really. This show was quite successful in Finland, lmao.
  • El Príncipe (Telecinco). This finished last year I believe. It’s about el Príncipe, a real neighbourhood of Celta. The main characters work for the police and you can see how life is like in this neighbourhood. They get to talk about racism and other issues. 
  • Vis a vis (Antena 3). Women in prison. Yes, everyone thought it was a copy of Orange is the new black, but it isn’t. Really good.
  • Allí abajo (Antena 3). This is a comedy about a guy from the Basque Country that moves to Andalucia. Stereotypes everywhere. Never seen it, but I’m pretty sure you’ll hear a lot of the accent from Andalucia.

And there’re MANY more. If you search “series (TV channel) online” you’ll find the official websites where you can watch the episodes, or even find new shows. Enjoy!

  • Brendon: Urie!
  • Dallon: Weekes!
  • Brendon: Urie!
  • Dallon: Weekes!
  • Brendon: Urie!!!!!!
  • Dallon: Weekes.
  • Breezy: Hi Sarah, why are they both shouting their own last names?
  • Sarah *reading a magazine* : Who wrote this one...who wrote that one...who did this...who did the other thing...maybe they're fighting over which one to use when they get married...just as usual. Wanna bet?
  • Breezy: If you have some popcorn...

Neymar makes Time Magazine’s 100 most influential people list

Barcelona and Brazil forward Neymar is the only football player who has been named in Time Magazine’s 100 most influential people on the planet.

Neymar is included in the “Icon” section of a list which also includes fellow sports stars LeBron James and Tom Brady.

Former England captain David Beckham writes the following in Time Magazine about Neymar:

“A series of images I once discovered on the Internet shows me and Neymar together over a decade, from when I was at Real Madrid and he was just a young boy to today. Although it does make me feel my age, it also shows the remarkable progression of a young man who at 25 is well on his way to becoming the best player in the world

It’s been clear ever since he signed for Brazilian team Santos at 17 that Neymar is an outstanding talent, a once-in-a-generation type of footballer who has fans on their feet whenever he gets the ball. I’ve always been struck by his humility. He’s respectful and wants to learn, which he proved when he arrived at Barcelona in 2013 to play alongside some of the game’s biggest stars.

He has continued to grow as a footballer and as a person since. The pressure on him in Brazil at the 2014 World Cup and at last year’s Rio Olympics was likely immense as he carried the hopes of a nation. But you would not have known it. He lives to play the game, and I imagine he approaches it now the same way he did as a boy.

I suspect the recent Champions League game against Paris Saint-Germain, when Neymar helped his team to an unforgettable 6-1 win, will be remembered as the moment he stepped up to take on the mantle of best player in the world. Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo have a new rival to that claim—and Neymar is ready to make his move.”

dezeen.com
David Adjaye named world's most influential architect by Time magazine
"Architectural visionary" David Adjaye has been named among Time magazine's 100 most influential people of 2017 – and is the only architect to make the list

“Architectural visionary” David Adjaye has been named among Time magazine’s 100 most influential people of 2017 – and is the only architect to make the list.

While last year BIG founder Bjarke Ingels was the sole architect on the prestigious Time 100, this year only British architect Adjaye was recognised.

The accolade follows a momentous year for the Adjaye Associates founder, who recently turned 50. He completed the career-defining Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington DC, won the London Design Medal and received a knighthood.

In a citation written by Thelma Golden, director and chief curator of the Adjaye-designed Studio Museum in Harlem, the architect is described as “one of the great architectural visionaries of our time”.

“His work – deeply rooted in both the present moment and the complex context of history – has envisioned new ways for culture to be represented and reflected in the built environment,” said Golden.

“Nowhere is this more evident than in his recent triumph on the National Mall,” she continued.

“Every architect has to contend with gravity – but when David designed the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the challenges of that elemental force went far beyond the ordinary.”

Time 100 is an annual ranking of the people the US magazine judges to be the most influential in America. Other creatives on this year’s list include fashion designer Raf Simons, filmmaker Cindy Sherman and writer Margaret Atwood.

Adjaye said he was “truly humbled” to be among them.

“Having the opportunity to design the National Museum of African American History and Culture has been one of the greatest honours of my career,” he said.

“To be included on this list is a testament to the power of this institution and its wide-reaching resonance.”

Adjaye was born in Tanzania, but is now based in London.

He made his name on projects including the Dirty House and the Stephen Lawrence Centre, both in London, but is increasingly working abroad, with projects in North America and Africa, as well as Continental Europe.

Upcoming projects include a cancer treatment centre in Rwanda and a major new art museum in Latvia.

He ranked at number 41 on the inaugural Dezeen Hot List – our own countdown of important names in architecture and design, generated by audience statistics.

Turbulence

Request: 14. You are seated next to your bias on a plane with Hansol from svt?

Member: Seventeen’s Vernon x Y/N

Type: Fluff


“Are you going to eat that?” hummed the sleepy voice of the stranger beside you. 

You jumped at his words, looking up from the book you had laying open in your lap. You blinked slowly, taking in the new development that had occurred in your fairly uneventful flight. 

When you had first boarded the plain to Korea, you had landed in your seat, extremely nervous about the hours before you. It was your first international flight and you had no idea what to expect. You had leaned over to the young man in the window seat, his face hidden by a baseball cap, and began introducing yourself. Your mouth moved independently from your thoughts, the nerves taking over your words as they escaped from your lips with a speed you didn’t know you were capable of. 

After speaking for what was at least an interval of five minutes, your words finally slowed, realizing that the guy beside you hadn’t looked up from the window he was leaning against during your whole one sided conversation. You eased forward, waving your hand lightly before his partially shielded face, coming to the conclusion that he was asleep. 

And had been during the entire duration of your speech. 

You sighed as you leaned back again, grumbling to yourself. You quickly came to the understanding that you were very much alone for this flight. 

That was why when you heard his deep and accented English, you jumped, almost having forgotten that he was there at all. 

“Um…I’m sorry?” you hummed, furrowing your brows. He readjusted his cap, setting it further up on his forehead so you could now see his handsome face. You felt your eyes widen, shocked by how attractive he was. 

“Are you going to eat that?” he repeated, pointing to the small bag of snacks on your tray. You looked back at him, shaking your head in silence. He grinned and reached over without any reservations, ripping into the small bag of pretzels. “Did I miss the meal?”

“Uh…no,” you said slowly, still mildly stumped by him. He had been asleep for the majority of the flight. With roughly three hours in the air left before you, you had assumed he would just sleep the entire time. 

You watched him carefully as he chewed, while he did the opposite. He was fidgety and avoided eye contact. Whenever your eyes happened to trail past each other, his cheeks would break out into a deep blush and he would immediately look out of the window again. 

“It’s rude to stare,” he muttered, a bashful grin on his face as he looked down to his lap. 

“To be honest I’m kind of amazed you’re alive,” you chuckled, finally looking away from him. “I thought about sticking a mirror under your nose to make sure you were still breathing.”

The young man looked at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. 

“Oh come on, you can laugh,” you sighed. “It was a little funny.”

After a few moments of silence the guy nodded, letting out a small and forced laugh. “I’m Vernon by the way. Or Hansol. Whatever you prefer.”

“Those are two very different names,” you nodded. “How do they relate at all?”

“Hansol is my Korean name,” he smiled. “Vernon is my middle name…and stage name.”

“I’m Y/N,” you said, finally getting to introduce yourself. “And I’m sorry…your stage name?”

Vernon’s eyebrows rose, his expression suddenly filing with excitement. “Yeah! I’m a rapper!”

“…and you picked Vernon…as your rapper name?” you said slowly, not quite following. 

“Well…yeah!” he gasped. “Why?”

“I mean…it doesn’t have the street cred I expected of a rapper’s name,” you hummed, tilting your head in thought. “No offense…I mean, I’m sure you’re a wonderful rapper, but-”

“Let me show you my mixtape!” he gasped, cutting you off and beginning to dig in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and a pair of headphones, unwinding them quickly. 

“No, really, I-” you began. 

“It’s lit!” Vernon insisted, thrusting a headphone into your ear. As soon as his fingers hit your skin, he retracted them, another deep blush painting his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Uh…it’s fine,” you trailed, readjusting the earbud. 

“This song is called Lotto,” he nodded, bopping along to the opening beat. You nodded as well, thoroughly surprised by the quality and caliber of the young man’s rapping. He began to whisper rap beside you, becoming his own hype man as the recording played. 

“You’re voice rides the beat well,” you nodded. “You have good flow.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, finally pausing the song on his phone. You gingerly removed the earbud and smiled in return. “I’m actually in a group called Seventeen.”

“A group of rappers?” you asked dumbly. “Are you aware your named after an American teen magazine? Are there seventeen of you?”

Vernon looked down into his lap and exhaled a deep breath. You suddenly felt guilty about your innocent question. 

“We aren’t named after the magazine…that’s just a coincidence,” he grumbled. “And no, there are thirteen of us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following,” you whispered. Then again, you hand’t necessarily been following for the majority of this conversation. 

“There are thirteen members, three units, vocal, hiphop, and performance. And we are one team. Seventeen,” he nodded. 

“Sounds like a stretch,” you muttered, turning back to the book in your lap. 

“So maybe there were seventeen members and things didn’t go as planned,” he hissed quickly. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

You looked up with lifted brows as Vernon looked over his shoulder, seemingly anticipating an attack from somewhere or someone. 

“That makes more sense,” you nodded, smiling at him. He smiled in return, shaking his head before he redirected his attention back to his phone. 

“So what’s your opinion on J.Co-” he began but was almost immediately cut off by a ding noise, signifying the captain was about to speak. 

“Ladies and gentleman, please take a seat and fasten your safety belts. We will be experiencing a small amount of turbulence shortly.” 

You bit your lip, your gaze trailing over to Vernon. You didn’t know if you were comforted or terrified by his equally as upset expression. Both of you looked up as the intercom dinged again and the safety belt light brightened above your heads. You looked down, adjusting the thick fabric that would keep you safely within your seat. Vernon did the same before reaching over and clutching your hand. 

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered, immediately retracting his fingers. His face was bright red as he avoided eye contact. 

“It’s-oh my god,” you hissed, just as the plane began to shake. You reached over, clutching Vernon;s hand first this time. He looked up in surprise, but immediately looked away and out of the window again. Neither of you let go as your fingers intertwined, unsure of who was cutting off the circulation from the other. 

The plane bumped along violently, dropping abruptly as you cruised across the sky. The turbulence was continuous, hardly giving up for even a moment. You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the queasy feeling taken over your stomach. You hissed out a breath, assuring yourself that you were much too frightened to be sick. 

“I’m going to vomit,” Vernon whispered, his thoughts mirroring yours. 

You cracked your eyes, looking over to him in your peripherals. “You are not. So help me Vernon.”

Rain slapped across the small window separating you from the night sky. The clouds lit up, suddenly brightened by the appearance of lightning. The passengers around you remained deadly silent, expecting the worst out of the situation you all had ended up in. 

“Have you ever seen final destination?” Vernon whispered, his knuckles white beside yours. 

“Shut up Vernon,” you spat.  

 The woman behind you began to recite quiet prayers in Korean as the plane tilted, violently jumping alongside the clouds. Her reassuring words were quickly overshadowed by the howling winds rushing past the large aircraft. Realistically the turbulence had only been going on for about two minutes, but it felt like an eternity. 

But the funny thing with flying is, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The entire cabin of the plane erupted into laughter and applause, breathing a sigh of relief collectively as you coasted along the puffy clouds again. 

“Good thing we didn’t panic,” Vernon nodded, sliding his hand from yours. He flexed his fingers and nodded to himself, looking at you kindly. 

“Sure,” you grumbled, noting that you had lost all feeling in your hand and began to shake it out as well. 

“But anyway, I was saying,” Vernon sighed, pulling out his phone again. “Do you like J.Cole? Or should we listen to some more of my mixtape?”

Originally posted by sneezes