the first three is the family and the second the 'for me'

you know what would have been great? if ron got sorted into slytherin.

imagine– we have this kid on the train, the first friend harry meets, with his corned beef sandwiches and smudged nose. ron is eleven years old and he wants gryffindor, because he’s a weasley and that’s what always happens. but it doesn’t happen.

what a way to redeem slytherin house– or, god, at least complicate it. because ron is petty. he is mean and sharp and ambitious and jealous– and he is loyal to the ends of the earth. he is all those things, and he is and always has been good.

potter becomes before weasley in the alphabet, so harry says not slytherin please and gets told might as well be gryffindor. percy and fred and george are all sitting there in red and gold, ruffling the already-ruffled hair of the boy who lived, smug, and then ron sits down and the hat spits out slytherin!

c'mon it’d be fun. just imagine–

  • the weasleys freaking out– but even that first christmas molly sends him a sweater in beautiful green and silver.

  • snape taking points from gryffindor when ron breaks rules or mouths off. “i’m in your house.” “hm, couldn’t tell which weasley it was…” /drifts away

  • sitting with harry in potions and in flying– whatever classes they happen to share. meeting up to study. scarfing down their breakfasts at separate tables so they can go hang out in the empty classrooms before the day starts. hermione reads while they play exploding snap.
    • the trio signing up for all the same electives third year. this friendship being something they earn and work for; not just the one that looked easiest. (not to bash canon ron&harry, the bros to end all bros, but by putting this very obvious obstacle between them– it makes it that much clearer to the reader that this is a love worth fighting for, because they’re fighting for it).
    • ron being jealous that harry and hermione get to share this house, this home, these hours, while he’s stuck with malfoy and parkinson and goyle– because that would eat him up some days, some months, this insecure kid who’s been the last at everything all his life. this kid who always leaves and always comes back.

  • ron, who constantly compares himself to his brothers– not as smart, not as popular, not as good. one more nail in that coffin, here, yeah? he’s not a prefect, not a quidditch star, not a troublemaker– and even when he becomes those things, someone else has always gotten there first
    • well, i guess he got to this house first at least

  • ron still snaps at snape in potions, after hermione’s been ignored three times, “you know, sir, i think hermione might know the answer.” he still pulls the bars off harry’s window with a stolen, flying car. he still shows harry around the burrow shyly, not knowing what a wonder a warm home is. he still stands up in the shrieking shack as best as he can with a broken leg and tells a mass murderer that if he wants harry he’ll have to go through him first. 
    • ron weasley is a lot of things, but one of them is absolutely a true friend.

  • in their second year:
    • when everyone calls harry the heir, they eye ron at his side and sniff.
    • when hermione lays petrified in the medical ward, ron sits at her side and reads her homework assignments aloud and thinks my house this was my house
    • when ron hugs ginny’s damp, shaking frame after the chamber, ron says sorry and sorry and are you okay and i’m so sorry and ginny calls him an idiot.

  • the trio spends more time in the library with hermione, since ron can’t come to gryffindor tower to study, and homework remains a thing that has to happen. fred and george constantly try to sneak him into the tower anyway. 
    • “c'mon, ronnykins, you belong here, you deserve it, no one’s gonna fuss, it’s your BIRTHRIGHT,” and ron fusses and rolls his eyes at them
    • and then in fourth year in one of those periods where he’s not talking to harry and harry’s not talking to him– he just snaps at the twins
      • because it’s not, alright?
      • not his birthright, not his house, and maybe no one would fuss if he snuck in, maybe no one would care, and that makes it worse not better, because then he’s just that weasley who should’ve been gryffindor
      • and isn’t
    • (and harry overhears this caterwauling, feels his heart fall to his toes, and goes and awkwardly asks ron if he wants to go a few laps on his firebolt). 
    • (because, god, harry-the-chosen-one, harry-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs, harry-who’ll-save-us-all– he knows what it’s like to have should have beens on your shoulders, and he knows what it’s like to not be wanted).

  • ron cheers for gryffindor during quidditch matches in those first few years, and sits with hagrid and hermione and neville. harry’s seeker, and fred and george are beaters, and ginny becomes chaser eventually, and honestly screw the slytherin team. they have each and every one of them said disparaging things about ron’s mother.
    • harry and hermione badger ron into trying out for keeper fourth year; he and harry have been practicing on the quidditch pitch because its a non-library-shaped place to hang out where both of them are allowed. ron makes the slytherin roster, and malfoy grudgingly provides ron a team broom after the captain chews him out for a bit.
      • “he may be a weasley, but he’s our keeper, don’t you want to win, draco”
    • but the sort of things they spit in the locker room, the words the players hiss or snigger, the slurs that come easy to their tongues– ron would like to say that he considered just walking out of the cesspit, but instead he snipes and sasses and shouts and sometimes tries to spell slugs at the worst of them. 
      • it doesn’t do much, that one irritated voice of protest– except that it does. and he’s got a new (hand-me-down) wand, after the gilderoy fiasco, so the slugs even come out the right end.
    • fred gives him a black eye with a bludger one time (though ron does manage to block the quaffle) and molly sends a howler to gryffindor table with the morning post. (“RON DID YOU TATTLE”) (“IT WAS CLEARLY PERCY, FRED, SIT DOWN”)
      • (the weasleys often have family conversations across the great hall, with hufflepuffs and ravenclaws covering their ears long-sufferingly between them)

  • in the lake, it’s still ron hanging there in the water, still and bloated. it’s still harry’s heart that stutters in his chest, for all it’s just a game, just a game, just a game, right?

  • ron listens hard and tries to talk himself out of fist fights, all that next year in the slytherin common room as they read aloud rita skeeter articles.

  • when hermione calls dumbledore’s army to its first session in that pub, there are green scarves in that crowd– ron and one of the beaters who ron’s gotten to help glare to rest of the slytherin quidditch team into submission.

  • ron beats draco to being prefect (i think i remember it was dumbledore and not mcgonagall who seemed to award prefect status– snape doesn ’t get a say).
    • percy is SO PROUD, as usual, but so are fred and george. “did you see the little malfoy git? green with shame, my god.”

  • when harry has the dream about sirius, ron isn’t there to wake. but when draco’s pulled out of bed to be a professional bully– er, i mean inquisitorial squad member– ron follows at a careful distance and curses draco from behind. 
    • they ride thestrals over london. harry finds the prophecy and ron thinks about the sorts of things that get decided at your birth.  
    • sirius black was a son of slytherin who had a lion living in his chest that he couldn’t hide away. 
    • ron was meant to be gryffindor, and through a haze of injury and fear he watches sirius die just out of harry’s reach.

  • just imagine: ron with his temper and his sharp words and his fierce loyalty. ron who looks into the mirror of erised and sees house cups and prefect badges and ambitions earned– he could belong in slytherin. there is nothing wrong with wanting things, and he wants them so bad.

  • there are so many reasons to fight a war, and so many ways. harry and his sacrifices, his loving resignation. hermione’s good right hook and bottomless bag of supplies. luna, brilliant and a bit batty. lee jordan’s radio and mcgonagall’s burning patience and brittle, certain bones.

  • just imagine: when the last battle comes, there is a slytherin on the field who is not snape.

  • when draco and his parents walk away, in that last battle, ron–
    • who slept in the same dormitory as the boy for six years
    • who heard draco’s nightmares and saw him paling and desperate all sixth year
    • who is as pureblooded as lucius’s spoiled whelp
    • who remembers grimacing at the thought of squibs
    • who has known magic all his life
    • who spotted draco penning letters home to his mother every sunday and hiding them when the other boys could see–
    • ron sees them going.
      • he sounds no alarms. he says no farewells.
      • he turns back to his friends, and his fight, and lets them be.

  • just imagine: when harry kneels on the train platform and his second son asks him “but what if i get sorted slytherin, dad?” harry can say, “the bravest man i ever knew was in slytherin house. whatever you are, wherever you go, we’re going to be so proud of you." 
    • and they can both gaze over to where ron is squawking beside his daughter’s trolley of luggage because crookshanks (who will live to be forty eight million years old) has latched onto his shins with a violent fondness.

december 31st, 2015, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time. you were talking to a girl and i could tell that you were capturing her with every syllable that left your mouth. and i knew why: you were beautiful and bright, and i was drawn to you even then, like the planets are drawn to the sun.

december 31st, 2015, 11:58 pm: we met standing in line for the bathroom. you introduced yourself, and asked for my name, smiling when i gave it. “lovely,” you murmured, and repeated it a few more times, rolling the letters around in your mouth like a new food.

january 1st, 2016, 12:05 am: i could still feel you on me, your lips, minutes, hours, months later. the clock had struck midnight and you just grabbed me, didn’t ask if it was okay until it was over. you were laughing, brushing it off, all teeth and well-kissed lips, but i knew i saw you blushing. 

january 21st, 2016, 1:12 pm: you got my number through the mutual friend that threw the party. i still don’t know how you got my address. i didn’t remember telling you. you couldn’t tell me, either.

february 14th, 2016, 9:12 pm: you took me out to dinner and bought me chocolate and roses. it was all so cliche, and i loved every second of it. when you kissed me good night, i swore i could feel the rest of my life, pressed right up against my lips.

february 26th, 2016, 11:33 pm: we made it official. i remember how you asked me, how shy you got, like you didn’t know what the answer would be.

march 17th, 2016, 5:43 pm: we spent the day at the saint patrick’s day parade, and you filled yourself with beer and kissed me hard against the bar bathroom door. i drove you home and that was the first time you told me you loved me.

march 18th, 2016, 9:24 am: you called me and told me you loved me again. “i want to make sure that you know i still mean it when i’m sober,” you said.

march 24th, 2016, 1:09 pm: i met your parents at easter brunch. you had demanded i come with you, and i was glad i did. your mother was kind and beautiful, and your father was warm and handsome, just like i knew they’d be. after we’d eaten, your mother got me alone. “he’s never brought a girl home before,” she told me, “normally he isn’t very open about who he’s dating. but you, you’re different. don’t read into this, but i think he may really think you’re special.”

april 12th, 2016, 8:31 pm: you saw me naked for the first time, and you kissed every inch of my skin. i’d never felt that much love from anybody before that night, and i haven’t since. not even you could replicate those few hours.

may 5th, 2016, 4:57 pm: we fought for the first time. i ran into my ex at the grocery store and wanted to chat for a few minutes. you didn’t. when we got in the car, you told me that if i was still in love with somebody else i could just leave, and i told you that you should trust me and not be so insecure about our relationship. we screamed the whole way home and you slammed the car door when i dropped you off. i almost crashed three times on the drive home.

may 6th, 2016, 8:03 am: you came by with flowers and breakfast. “I’m sorry,” you told me, “you just mean so much to me, and the thought of you ever being anyone else’s makes me sick.” i smiled, “but you don’t have to worry about that now. i’m yours.”

june 16th, 2016, 10:51 pm: for my birthday you took me out to dinner and gave me a beautiful necklace with a silver chain and pearl pendant. we drank expensive wine and stumbled back to my place and fucked. i had never been fucked before, not like this. i woke up the next morning with bite marks on my neck and hickeys all the way down my stomach, but you were gone. “had to run,” you’d written on a post it note, “i love you.”

june 18th, 2016, 2: 41 pm: i hadn’t seen you since my birthday and you weren’t picking up when i’d call.

june 19th, 2016, 3:13 am: “ had to run,” the post it note had said. maybe you were running from me. i couldn’t tell if it was the 3 am darkness talking or the part of me that already knew.

july 1st, 2016, 4:01 am: i looked over at you, sleeping in the darkness beside me. when we were together, things felt perfectly normal. but now, i could feel the shifts. “are we falling apart?” i whispered to you, and although i hadn’t expected an answer, the silence broke my heart all the same.

july 4th, 2016, 6:47 pm: we were at a barbecue and i saw you across the crowd, talking to a girl. i saw the way she was drinking up every word that escaped from between your lips, and that’s when i knew. that’s when i knew you weren’t mine anymore.
july 21st, 2016, 7:08 pm: i brought it up to you. “i think we’re starting to grow apart,” i said, “there’s a distance between us that wasn’t here before.” you reassured me that it was all in my head, but i didn’t hear it in your voice. i didn’t see it in your eyes. you knew it was there, too, but unlike me, you weren’t trying to do anything to stop it.

august 10th, 2016, 11:37 pm: i lay awake and thought about what your mother said, all these months later. “don’t read into this.” but of course i did. i couldn’t help myself. fuck, i loved you so much.
august 15th, 2016, 1:12 pm: you invited me over and i discovered that the key you’d given me no longer worked. “i had the locks changed,” you said, “i’ll get you a new one.” it was a lie, and i knew it. you didn’t get me a new key.

september 8th, 2016, 2:00 pm: i caught you cheating. in a desperate attempt to revive the romance we’d had at the beginning of our relationship, i bought dinner and brought it to your place. when you finally opened the door, i saw it written all over your face; the way your eyes widened, the way your jaw dropped, the way your cheeks drained of color. i heard it in the stammer of your voice, the sharp intake of your breath, the grinding of your teeth. when the girl walked up behind you, half naked, asking who it was at the door, i already knew. “how could you?” i whispered, and you just opened and closed your mouth. the girl pieced it together and started screaming. she hadn’t known. i left the food at the doorstep.

september 10th, 2016, 1:49 am: you never called after that, never came by, never reached out, but it wasn’t like we’d needed to confirm anything. i knew it was over, but it took every ounce of willpower i had not to go back to your place and find out why, why everything.

september 27th, 2016, 6:20 pm: i kept finding myself huddled in a ball; in my bedroom, in my kitchen, in my shower. not crying, or yelling. just huddled, clutching my body close to myself, staring. still not understanding.

october 31st 2016, 9:01 pm: i spent halloween haunted by the ghost of you. your face was around every corner. i could still feel your touch trickling down my spine. that night, i lost it. the anger surged through the sadness and bubbled to the surface. i screamed until my throat was raw, screamed at nothing, about nothing, for no reason other than i was too full.

november 10th, 2016, 2:17 am: you called me when you were drunk and i answered. i listened to you ramble, vomiting up apology after apology. near the end, you told me you loved me. “call me tomorrow when you’re sober if you still love me,” i said.  you didn’t. 

november 25th, 2016, 7:15 pm: i went out on a date with somebody new. they didn’t pull me in like you did, but for a few hours, i forgot about you and i felt okay. i drank myself to sleep that night so i wouldn’t have to think about you. the next morning, the hangover hurt more than you did. it was a start.

december 24th, 2016, 8:12 pm: i was spending christmas with my family, and i was doing great until my aunt asked about you. i told her you cheated, but i was doing okay, and then i excused myself and threw up the appetizers into the toilet. i called you then, and when you picked up, i let out a sob. “you ruined me, you fuck,” i croaked, “and you can’t even apologize. not when you’re sober, at least.” there were a few seconds of silence, and then you hung up. i still hope that it ruined your christmas.

december 31st, 2016, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time in months across the crowd. it made me sick to know that even after all that had happened, you were still the most beautiful person in the room to me.

december 31st, 2016, 11:55 pm: you found me in the kitchen. “i wanted to tell you i’m sorry,” you yelled over the music, “and i miss you.” and in those final moments of the year, i thought about it. i thought about letting you back in. the countdown started, and you moved closer to me. and i.. i pushed you away. i turned away from you and said, “no. i can’t.” and i walked out of the room.

january 1st, 2017, 12:05 am: i have forgotten how you felt against me, your lips. and for the first time, i am finally okay with that.

—  a year in review -c.h. // instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity)
The named victims so far:

Georgina Callander, 18

An 18-year-old college student from Lancashire, was the first victim to be identified following the Manchester attack.

Many of her friends have paid tribute to the teen, alongside Runshaw College where she was studying, and a number of celebrities.

“Georgina Callander was a former Bishop Rawstorne pupil studying with us on the second year of her Health and Social Care course.”

Saffie Rose Roussos, 8

She had been at the Ariana Grande concert with her mum Lisa Roussos and sister Ashlee Bromwich when the explosion shook the venue. Her mum and sister were rushed to hospital, but lost contact with Saffie. Saffie-Rose Roussos died from her injuries at the concert on Monday night.

Chris Upton, headteacher at Saffie’s school, said in a statement: “Saffie was simply a beautiful little girl in every aspect of the word. She was loved by everyone and her warmth and kindness will be remembered fondly. Saffie was quiet and unassuming with a creative flair.”

John Atkinson, 28

28-year-old John Atkinson from Bury was the third victim to be identified.

It’s understood that John had been leaving the concert when a lone man detonated a suicide bomb shortly after 10.30 on Monday evening.

Megan Hurley, schoolgirl

It is not known how old Megan was, but earlier this evening the chair of governors at Halewood Primary School said a girl who went to the school had died in the suicide bombing, according to Liverpool Echo.

He added that she had attended with her older brother who was seriously injured.

Olivia Campbell, 15

A heartbroken Mrs Campbell had broken down in tears on ITV’s Good Morning Britain earlier in the day, when her daughter was missing.

She spoke of how she had not spoken to her daughter Olivia since she set off for the event. "I can’t get through to her. I’ve called the hospitals, I’ve called all the places, the hotels where people say that children have been taken.”

"I’ve called the police. There’s no news, I’ve just got to wait. I’m waiting at home just in case she turns up here,” she told the morning program.

Alison Howe, 45 and Lisa Lees, 47

Two mums waiting to collect their teenage daughters after the concert were among the victims of the bomb attack. Their daughters, both aged 15, are understood to be safe.

Angelika, 40 and Marcin Klis, 42

Marcin and Angelika Klis, Polish parents of a student at the University of York, have been confirmed dead after the Manchester attack.

The pair posed for a selfie in the city centre just before going to the concert to pick their daughters up.

Their 20-year-old daughter had posted a plea for help on Facebook after they didn’t contact her following the attack.

The pair leave behind two daughters, Alex and Patricia.

Martyn Hett, 29

Martyn Hett, a Coronation Street superfan who had a tattoo of  Deirdre Barlow on his ankle and with his boyfriend won Come Dine With Me, has been named as one of the dead.

Kelly Brewster, 32

Kelly Brewster was at the concert with her sister Claire and niece Hollie Booth. She died shielding her niece from the blast and leaves behind a young daughter, Phoebe. Hollie has two broken legs but is safe.

Jane Tweddle-Taylor, 51

Jane Tweddle-Taylor had gone to the Arena with a friend to pick up the friend’s daughter. She was a mother of three: “One of the biggest challenges we’ve had is one of my daughters was away travelling in Australia, so we were trying to pick a time to notify her.”

Nell Jones, 14

Her family and friends had posted appeals on social media saying she was missing following the concert. A student at Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School.  She had been recently using crutches after suffering a ligament injury.

These are the 13 out of 22 named victims as of Wednesday, 24th of May at 2pm (GMT)

youtube

I first saw Woodstock running across a turnpike we were turning onto late one dark night in Peachtree Georgia Atlanta. Whilst we were shooting Lawless. He was a stray. 11 weeks old. Oh No we thought. Quickly Go get that dog not even sure it was a dog. Actually.  We stopped the car. It was pitch black literally. I used my phone to light the road in case a car came round the turnpike and couldn’t see me. And malletted me. And I tried to cover some ground but he was fast.  I watched this thing Running towards the highway in the pitch black making good speed towards the cars and lorries and I remember seeing what were its floppy ears bouncing towards the traffic. That dogs had it I thought. I couldn’t make out how big it was what breed it was? Nothing  just those two ears flapping away above a frantic bundle. Hurtling away from us towards impending doom that was for certain. Whatever it was had no road sense and was tearing away. I panicked a little because I couldn’t help it had no name to shout and now it was close to the freeway. I put my fingers to my mouth and I whistled. Loud as I could. The whistle pierced the black. And It stopped the dog dead in its tracks. Then it turned and set eyes on me in one swift movement the ears about faced and the dog decided to run straight at me in the darkness all flashes of teeth and snarling And shrieking. Fuck this I thought that’s not a fkn dog. What am I doing. It ran straight at me and hit me around the legs I couldn’t see but I could hear the distress and I reached down thinking I’m going to get bitten. It was so noisy shrieking. I snatched out expecting to feel teeth and grabbed a fist full of soft neck fur lifted what was actually an incredibly light weight up to my face and shone my phone at it. It was a very small bundle literally sagging from its neck fur with two big brown eyes staring straight into mine. Terrified and utterly quiet. When I got back to the car and sat in my seat he lay on my shoulder and fell asleep. And snored clearly he’d been through a lot. And now the ordeal was seemingly over enough for him to relax. Jessica asked me was he a girl or a boy. Its a boy I said. How do you know. Erm… I can feel his Woodstock. great !!! let’s call him Woodstock!!! And so it was. He was covered in dogshit. Now so was I. And we rode and We took him straight to the pet store to clean him up and buy him well things.., lots of things things dogs need and we walked the aisles the three of us letting him
Choose toys and his lead and his collar. I’ll
Never forget that night. It was wonderful. One minute he was almost dead next terrified. Then picked up by strangers then after He had a power nap in the car, the next he’s walking with his bandy leg John Wayne strut under the strip lighted aisles of this massive pet store happy and playful.
He wore a red bandana that night and from then on and drank religiously from the toilet throughout the night despite having a few bowls of water in the apartment he was every inch a survivor.  He wasnt house broken it didn’t matter we were outdoors mostly and He ate through trailer doors and made many friends and Pnut had him on the lead off set and He became our onset dog  I will always be eternally grateful to Georgia. It gave me the greatest of joys of being a dog owner  And the bestest of friends after Max had passed Woody arrived He was 11 weeks old approx. The first morning we had him. He ate a turd and we chased him to drop it but he gobbled it down because he must have thought we wanted to eat it. So he ate it as fast as he could. We just wanted him to eat some real food. He now had plenty. But there was a survivor in him. That was clear he had had to eat what he could and from then on it was clear he had food issues. But he would never go hungry again. His nickname was Yamaduki. Because he literally yammed down a duki. So Woodstock Yamaduki was his full name. Woody Thomas later Woody two shoes and Wu for short.

Woody came back to the Uk after Jess’s parents kindly looked after him to avoid quarantine they house trained him. He had my tshirt from Warrior. I picked him up from them in California when I shot Dark Knight and thanked them. He hadn’t forgotten me and despite the tireless efforts and hard work that Jessica’s Mum and husband had put into Woody he heard my whistle again and turned and ran at me and didn’t look back. I felt for them but secretly I was very happy that my friend and I were reconnected.  We all had a picnic we jumped into a lake Woody too and then it was clear Woody couldn’t swim and I hauled his ass out of the lake. Dragging him out the shit a second time cemented a pattern. I have hauled him out of rivers and ponds on many occasion since that day such was his love to chase ducks. Especially the Thames.
his rabies titer had cleared he spent a week in quarantine and he became a Londoner.

He was an Angel. And he was my best friend. We went through so much together.
Charlotte worked tirelessly with him to get him through a rough case of separation anxiety. He loved her like his Mum. And when she was pregnant he gaurded her fiercely.

He has been on many sets. Met many crews. Photo shoots premieres made many many friends he was #73 most influential animal in TIME magazine. He beat JAWS. Something we all thought was brilliant. He’s been in peaky blinders. Legend everyone who met him loved him. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body. All he knew was love.

I don’t normally speak out about family and friends but this is an unusual circumstance. Woody affected so many people in his own right so with great respect to his autonomy and as a familiar friendly face to many of you, it is with great great sadness a heavy heart that I inform you that after a very hard and short 6 month battle with an aggressive polymyostisis Woody passed away, two days ago. He was only Age 6. He was Far too young to leave us and We at home are devastated by his loss I am ultimately grateful for his loyal companionship and love and it is of some great comfort that he is no longer suffering. Above all I am completely gutted. the world for me was a better place with him in it and by my side.
To the bestest friend ever. To me and to a family who loved him beyond words and whom he loved without doubt more than I have ever known. Woody was the bestest of journey companions we ever could dream of having. Our souls intertwined forever.

A friend told me

He was special bro, a shining example of man’s best friend. He burnt very very bright and, those that burn very bright sometimes burn half as long.

Thankyou Woody for choosing to find us. We will love you and be with you and you with us forever. Never ever ever forgotten. Your Boy tom xxx I love you beyond words. To the moon and back again and again to
Infinity and beyond. Run with Max now and the Angels. I will see you when I get there.
With all of me I love you. Always Thankyou for
Your love beautiful boy.

A LIST OF SWAN QUEEN FAN FICTION

B/C I KNOW Y’ALL ARE TIRED OF LOOKING FOR SWANQUEEN FANFIC RECS ON TUMBLR SO HERES THE GOOD SHIT.

  • all of these are in english
  • if you have any recommendations or additions, please let me know!
  • some fanfictions that i originally planned to include on this list were deleted by their authors :( 


CLASSICS (favorites)

The Art Of Being Extraordinary - if you haven’t read this already, wyd? The ending will destroy you - be prepared to cry. 

Letters From War - another extremely well known fic among swen. a heart-wrenching and beautifully written AU fic. even if AUs aren’t your thing, seriously, give this one a try.

Emma is a soldier on reserve in Fort Benning. Regina is the Mayor of Storybrooke. Through a pen pal program designed to ease the ache of homesick soldiers, Emma and Regina begin sending letters to one another as their relationship grows from cordial acquaintance to something neither woman would have expected - until the letters stop coming.

A Trail Of Destruction - DEFINITELY a classic imo. this is one of my favorite fanfictions of all time.

A hostage situation in City Hall leaves behind a battered, broken sheriff, and a mayor wracked with guilt. Trigger warnings for violence and gun threats and general angst. Slow-burn swan queen.

Miles To Go - AU; emma and regina meet at a party and the rest is history. this ones pretty long (80 chapters), but so worth the read! angsty & lots of ‘sexy times’ 

Everyone has their own story, this one is theirs and it paints the picture of a love story that spans over two decades, with all the ups and downs and everything else in between. SwanQueen AU
 

Of Love and Loathing - a lot of angry sex in the beginning, which eventually turns into lovey sex. another well known and well written fic - this author is one of my favorites. *reaaallyyy hot smut 

“I have been sleeping with someone,” Regina began tentatively, an acute awareness that once she said the words out loud that the madness behind her highly unorthodox situation became all the more real, “whom I absolutely loathe.” •Emma/Regina•

Meet me Halfway - one of the first swan queen fan fictions i ever read! still a classic to this day. AU

Emma Swan works hard every night as a bartender, struggling to raise her son and save up enough to own her own bar. Regina Mills is an upper class New York photographer who wouldn’t normally spare a second glance at people below her. When their paths cross, their lives adapt to each other, but how much are they willing to change?

Love Undefined - in the process of re-reading this one because of how much i love it. angsty as hell but such a beautiful story.

It’s been eight years since the last time Regina and Emma saw each other, eight years since Emma lost part of her happiness, her family, and everything fell apart. But she hasn’t forgotten those three years in New York, or any of what Regina had brought into her life. A late night phone call to Regina takes Emma back eleven years to when they met, saved each other from loneliness, and Emma started learning what it meant to live. She relives the moments that had changed her life for the better, and even the ones that had hurt.

Teacher’s Pet - KNOWN AS THE ONE TEACHER/STUDENT FANFIC THAT EVERYONE HAS READ. 

Emma Swan is starting her senior year. Her friends tell her about the Creative Writing teacher that she has on her schedule and how no one had passed her class with an A, not even her bookworm friend, Belle. What will she do? And who exactly is this ‘bitchy Evil Queen’ as they claim her to be? SwanQueen. Student/Teacher. M for language and future chapters.

Lost in Translation - i wasn’t sure about this before reading it but i LOVED it. the description pretty much sums it up.

AU. Regina is deaf. Emma is the only one who refuses to give her pity. In response, Regina is thrilled by this new challenge and the stand-offs commence, but over time she finds out there is more to the blonde woman than just a target to throw a stinging quip and pointed glare at.

Send Up a Signal - emma and regina are actresses and their fans ship them with each other. ;)

Emma Swan is catapulted into stardom, the newest lead actress on a sanitized show featuring modern fairytales. Regina Mills is a long-undermined star with a chip on her shoulder and a thousand reasons why she’s invested. Naturally, they loathe each other on sight.Their characters’ fanbases, however, have other ideas.

Reset - SO. GOOD. 95 chapters. if you’re looking for long fanfics, this is for you. 

Following the breaking of the curse everyone in Storybrooke is finding their happy ending, with one exception. Resigning herself to having lost Henry’s love and respect forever, Regina decides there is only one path available to her.

Take Me Home Tonight - AU!! lots of smut :) this is a newer one that i’ve seen around twitter and tumblr and i really enjoyed it! this one’s pretty short (14 chapters)

AU: Nineteen year old Emma Swan is a senior at the exclusive all girls boarding school, Foxhaven Academy. When her friends find out she’s a virgin they send her to the city to find a guy to take her v-card. But Emma is more interested in a sexy older woman she meets in a bar. A SwanQueen story.

The Staircase - non-consensual sex in the first chapter, so please be aware of that; its not for eveyone. this story is very dark but has a happy ending i promise!

Regina could still smell her cologne and feel the cheap pleather pressing into her back. The brunette sucked in a breath. She was still lying on the floor at the staircase’s base and she stared back up at it. Everything was different now. Changed. She felt broken by what had just happened, appalled and enraged, dirty. WARNING: NC17 for non-consensual sex. Dark. (But gets lighter.)

the trouble with emma - very very well known within the swan queen community. i’ll be honest, i never really got into the story but i can acknowledge that it is the most well-written fanfiction i have read to date. the author is truly talented. (the first in a series of fanfics)

Post ep 4x23, Emma becomes the Dark One and learns nothing is quite as it seems or as simple as black versus white. When Regina removes the curse no one in Storybrooke is prepared for the far reaching fallout which leaves none of their lives unaltered or untouched, least of all Regina’s.

SMUT 

shadow haven  - the one smut fic everyone has read.

Emma Swan is a PR agent who is sent on a holiday by her boss. Regina Mills is the owner of a private island named Shadow Haven. There is more to Regina than initially meets the eye. This story dips heavily into the BDSM subculture. Swan Queen romance / BDSM story.

the wicked stepmother - the one kinky fic everyone has read- or attempted to. i couldn’t get through the whole thing but the first few chapters,,, holy hell.

When the Evil Queen catches baby Emma along with Snow White, she decides on a new revenge. In Storybrooke, Snow White will be allowed to raise her daughter… but on her eighteenth birthday, Regina will come for her. Emma might just enjoy that.

in control  - Regina had never been in the habit of relinquishing control, but when it came to Emma Swan, she was starting to find out that giving in had its benefits. - Established Swan Queen - One Shot. Rated M for language and content.

the collar - It will carry strong mature themes as well as a Mistress/Slave relationship but it is also a lot more than that. However, as a warning this story will celebrate the shades of grey of our favourite couple as they find their way to each other and will deal with darker elements of their characters. Emma’s history differs a little from canon but will be covered by the story but there is no Henry and she is an adult in this fiction.

a little taste  - author of A Fine Line and Letters from War. 

Emma has been desperate to know what it’s like to kiss the smirk off of Regina Mills, but when she finally gets the chance, it doesn’t seem to be enough.

tempest - A storm ushers in an expected opportunity for Regina to finally rid herself of Emma Swan. She will posses the sheriff’s heart and then crush it. But what happens when nothing goes as planned? Rated M for language and Swan Queen sexytimes.

come on be nice - Regina has decided that the quickest way to get rid of Emma Swan is to scare off the commitment phobic woman with a come-on. This, as with many of Regina’s plans, does not go as, well, planned. Rated M for Swan Queen sex.

black lace - Emma and Henry find a way around the 'no visiting’ rule involving binoculars and the walkie talkie. Emma’s attention is fully on her son, she truly doesn’t intend to watch Regina at all. At least until the mayor begins undressing in front of her window..

dirty words - Regina is plagued by thoughts of a certain blonde. Deciding she is in need of cathartic release, she writes a quick narrative in hopes of cleansing her system. However, by a happy accident, the story falls into the wrong hands. What will Emma do with this new and intriguing insight into the mayor’s mind?

damn you, miss swan  Emma visits the mayor one night with a bottle of wine to cheer her up. Anger issues and smeared lippy ensues. WARNING: Includes a non-explicit passing reference to rape. This is my first story. A/N Jan 2015: Way back when I wrote this, no one knew anyone’s back stories, so I just made up stuff. Don’t be upset for canon divergence if you read it now. It wasn’t canon then.

mirror tricks The Evil Queen has made her way to Storybrooke, but she only seems to be interested in one thing: Emma. When Regina realises this, her jealousy starts to get the better of her.

my enemy’s enemy After her mother’s death, Regina finds a terrible surprise hidden among the witch’s belongings. Unfortunately, the only one able to cure her from the ailment is Emma…if she agrees. Strong language and mature themes. First stab at SwanQueen :)

ANGST

to remember her happy ending - “She doesn’t even remember her family! How am I going to explain this to her when she hates me!” She was falling apart now. The way the women in the other room had just looked at her, with such disdain. That wasn’t her wife. That was the Mayor, the Evil Queen maybe…but not her wife.

for endings are where we begin Regina Mills is your average working mom - she spends long hours at her bakery, loves her son Henry with all that she is, and can touch dead things and bring them back to life.Emma Swan is an orphan, an ex-convict, and a bail bondsperson residing in Massachusetts. She is also currently dead.This is the story of how they meet.

the loudest silence - New to Chicago Emma, a professional cellist, is shocked to find that a beautiful deaf woman is her new president of the board. As their friendship grows Emma begins to wonder, what does it look like when a world of sound and a world of silence meet somewhere in the middle? SwanQueen AU

broken 16 year Emma Swan is a preachers daughter on a tight leash, what happens when Regina Mills returns to town, dark, mysterious and dangerous? Will her father’s expectations take over or will Emma follow her heart? Is Regina legit or is Emma cute little pawn? Will Emma be able to love Regina for who she is or will her dark past ruin it ALL! SwanQueen G!P Some BDSM

bring her home Cora’s dead. Henry lives with the Charmings. Regina continues spiraling through grief and loss and hatred. Then Emma suddenly falls unconscious and Henry shows up at Regina’s door because he needs her help to bring Emma back. Reluctantly, Regina embarks on a wild swan chase through Emma’s mind, a whirlwind of ‘roads‐less‐traveled’ and ‘what‐ifs’ and ‘might‐have‐beens’, in order to bring her home.

if the blazer fits Emma decides to dress up like Regina for a Halloween party at The Rabbit Hole, a seemingly innocent decision that surprisingly leads to a relationship. The romance is openly feared by some and secretly despised by an unlikely source, who plots to end it.

a fine line Upon Regina’s banishment, the small town of Storybrooke becomes protected once again by an enchantment that prevents anyone from leaving or entering Storybrooke. Emma and Regina find themselves on the edge of the town, wishing for a way to the other side.

a pale imitation Regina is furious with Emma after she brings back Marian, but since she can’t take it out on her, Regina creates a mindless clone of Emma to hit instead. The clone doesn’t stay mindless for long though, developing an obsession with Regina. Written for summer 2014 Swan Queen Big Bang. (TW for sexual assault/rape and graphic depictions of violence)

FLUFF

one fine mess - Regina’s gut twisted with an agonizing pull and, for just a moment, she thought she might need to take up the same position as the woman crouched before her. “You’re pregnant?” she whispered grimly. Emma’s only response was to turn and retch into the toilet again. — Swan Queen, magic!pregnancy

coffee at midnight - (so good) Slow burn AU that starts with two women from different parts of the USA meeting on Twitter. Emma is an insomniac loner who is a Personal Trainer. Regina is a writer with a sleepless baby. Their lack of sleep and love for coffee soon brings them together and after that they find it hard to part. This is a fic where coffee is taking to mythical levels, despite it’s bad effect on people with insomnia and people with babies - showing that sometimes what you need and want isn’t always the thing that is wholesome and harmless. But also that denying yourself it will only lead to misery, something which Regina has to apply to other parts of her life.

all the single ladies With the library in desperate need of renovation, Storybrooke prepares for a fundraising dinner and bachelorette auction. What mischief and romance can be found as a result? SwanQueen with some RedBeauty Rating has been raised to M - now including adult content.


TEACHER+STUDENT / EMPLOYEE+BOSS

teacher’s pet - see above (classics)

take me home tonight - see above (classics)

step into my office, baby  - This is what you get for doing the nice thing, Emma thinks. You do that whole Pay It Forward bullshit - you buy a lady some coffee and you pretend like it isn’t totally motivated by how she looks in a pencil skirt - and she goes and insults your business card and turns out to be your company’s new Executive Director. Real fucking cute.From now on, she is drinking tea.or, the one where they’re in an office.

teaching miss mills  - Swan Queen Teacher AU: Emma is a gym teacher, who moves to Storybrooke Academy after becoming disenchanted with her job back in Boston. Regina Mills is the Head of English who Emma somehow seems to keep having run-ins with, despite the best of intentions. Along the way, Emma adjusts to small-town life, gets her teaching mojo back and grows closer to Regina. NOW COMPLETE

troubled teachers - COMPLETE! SwanQueen AU. Geography teacher Emma Swan starts a new life far from her troubled past and meets history teacher Regina Mills. But all is not as it seems when it comes to the composed, intelligent, and beautiful brunette. Family struggles and difficult relationships lead to a friendship and soon something more blossoms. Rated M for Ch 7, 18, 22, 24, 28, 29, 31, 35 and 38

not a virgin anymore When college student Emma Swan wakes up one morning with no memory of what happened the night before she’s very surprised she finds herself in professor Mills’s bed. 

is that so, miss swan? - College student, Emma Swan, is confronted by her favorite professor and secret heart-throb, Dr. Regina Mills. What happens when Emma is forced to reveal her secrets? We shall see. AU. Slightly OOC at times. No magic. SwanQueen. Rated M for serious language and eventual sexy times between our two favorite ladies.

butterfly effect - in her final year of college, Emma finds she has more to account for than the extra credits she needs in order to graduate. Only… she doesn’t expect it to come in the form of her newest instructor, Professor Regina Mills. Complete. AU Swan Queen

a sophisticated seduction Emma’s a college student, working as an intern at the Dazzle Magazine for a powerful woman she has never had the good fortune of meeting. But everything in her life is about to change when they finally meet. Especially when one falls so deeply in love with the other and the insecurities from a broken marriage comes to light. (Not Based on The Devil Wears Prada)

some other faves

down east decisions - Massachusetts State Police Capt. Emma Swan leaves her red-hot career to become the police chief of sleepy Storybrooke, Maine. She’s hoping for a less-complicated, less-dangerous life, a desire that is dashed on both counts. AU. No magic. Crime drama and romance. Swan Queen is endgame.

that drunken night - Emma’s wasted and accidentally calls Regina instead of her mom. And Regina isn’t as loathe to talk to the blonde as she usually pretends. Did things change between them so radically while they were in Neverland? (No copyright infringement intended.)

chasing henry - SQ. Tired of the tricks and lies of both of his mothers, Henry follows the dwarves, Red and Granny when they use Tiny’s magic beans to return themselves to their old land. Emma and Regina both chase after him, and they reluctantly travel together through the Enchanted Forest in order to find him and bring him back home safely.

so does this make us both the other woman? - Set after 3b in a peaceful Storybrooke where Regina is with Robin and Emma’s fallen into a relationship with Hook. Shame about all that subtext that’s rapidly threatening to become text.

Mutually Assured Dating

‘You were singing really loudly in the shower when I broke into your apartment but then i heard you slip and crash and oh god i should probably check on you in case i get done for murder instead of just robbery’ AU


It took all of fourteen seconds for Derek to realize he was in the wrong apartment.

First, he noticed the very large and scuffed up sneakers and boots ditched haphazardly kind of near the door but half into the living room. Cora was meticulous about her shoes and kept them neatly arranged in a shoe rack right next to the door. The only time they touched the floor was when her feet were in them.

Second, the stuff. There was so much stuff everywhere; clothes thrown over the back of the couch, dishes across the coffee table and all over the kitchen counters, books on every surface, a gaming console dragging wires across the floor and surrounded by games, in cases and out of them. Cora was an unintentional minimalist, in that she threw out anything she didn’t need and lacked a single sentimental bone in her body. Derek and Laura regularly made trips to wherever she lived to save family keepsakes and memories from her ruthless cleaning sprees.

Then he noticed the manly warble coming from somewhere deeper in the apartment, and Cora’s favorite topic of rant floated lazily to the forefront of his mind.

—but my neighbor, oh my god this guy! I’m going to kill him if I ever see him in the hall! His bathroom shares a wall with my bedroom and he sings in the shower, every shower, at all hours. Literally all hours, like 4am, and he only sings Christmas carols at 4am. I’ve have Jingle Bells stuck in my head for a week! 

Shoes, stuff, singing.

This was not Cora’s apartment.

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Eric Richard Bittle is Jewish

Tw: mentions of antisemitism

Ok, hear me out. I know there is a lot of evidence pointing to Bitty being a good Southern Christian Gay and like, that is completely plausible and if that’s your jam, great! But because I love projecting and rubbing my Jew-y hands on everything, here is a theory about Bitty being an extremely assimilatory southern Jew who only really gets in touch with his culture and Jewish identity once he gets to college in the North East.

So I did some research and while “phelps” (Bitty’s maternal family name) isn’t the dead ringer that “Birkholtz” or “Zimmermann” is, it still has a history of being a Jewish surname in the Anglo-Saxon region. So to me, Bitty is Jewish on his mom’s side, but his paternal family is very southern Christian and so, really that’s what he grew up with, because being Jewish in the south? Well… that’s a whole thing.

My mom grew up in Atlanta Georgia, and in her high school, she was the only Jewish person by a long shot. My grandfather taught at Emory and so they didn’t belong to a temple, and went to Hillel sometimes during the bug holidays, but for he most part she wasn’t involved in religious affairs because it wasn’t “normal”.

I think something along the same lines happened to Bitty. His Moomah always made Jewish food for their family, but only made Southern food for company. At Chanukah, they would put up a Christmas tree, but put a Jewish star as an ornament and call it a “Chanukah bush.”

Bitty had a friend in second grade named Timmy who came over for a play date one day, only to never come back because his mom saw their mezuzah on the front door and forbid them from hanging out again. “Timmy doesn’t need to be influenced by that kind”

After that, well, Bitty stops asking his mama to make kasha varnishkas for his lunch (someone once told him it looked like he was eating pasta with dirt in it) and he stops going to temple on rosh hashana, and he starts calling his Christmas tree a Christmas tree. When someone tells him he “doesn’t look Jewish” he knows it’s a compliment.

The Monday at school after the Closet Incident, there’s a swastika keyed into his locker.

Because it’s one thing being the gay kid in a small town, it’s a whole other thing to be gay AND Jewish. It’s like he’s had two strikes against him since he was born.

When he moves to Madison he begs his mom not to put up a mezuzah. He can’t understand why she starts crying, but she doesn’t put it up. It’s a fresh start.

The rest of middle school and high school, Bitty secularizes.

When one of his teammates in his coed team tells him he’s acting “like a Jew” when he asks her for money for the team shirts, Bitty bites his tongue so hard he draws blood.

When all the kids in his tenth grade English class throw pennies at Mr. Bloom during his lecture on Eli Wiesel, Bitty stays after and helps pick them up.

Fast forward to freshman year at Samwell, and Bitty is hanging around the haus just before Rosh Hashana.

Holster is talking to Ransom and Jack about putting something together for dinner, maybe picking up some matzo ball soup mix and some ruggies from a deli near by.

Bitty, who shuddered at the though of soup coming out of a box blurted out without thinking “you know, I could whip up some of my grandmas matzo ball soup? And maybe some kugel?”

All three of the other boys look at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish Bittle,” Jack quirked a brow in intrigue.

“Well,” Bitty said, face heating up, “I- I’m not JEWISH Jewish. My mom is Jewish. My Moomah is Jewish, but ME? I don’t know.”

Everyone else seemed perplexed by this statement, but Holster’s eyes lowered a bit.

Bitty took that to mean ‘I hate you why would you say that you should just leave’ and promptly scrambled out the door, a whirlwind of “sorry got to go’s”

Later that week, someone knocked on Bitty’s dorm door, and that someone was Adam Jacob Birkholtz, certified Nice Jewish Boy and hulking mass.

“Uh, can we talk?” Holster asked a bit sheepishly.

Bitty agreed and lead them into his room.

Holster sat on his tiny bed and asked, “what did you mean before? When you said your mom and grandma are Jewish but not you?” It was tentative, but Bitty could tell the question wasn’t an accusation.

“Well I mean, I don’t really celebrate anything anymore. For all intents and purposes my house was a secular house all throughout middle school and high school.”

“But bitty,” holster sighed, “just because your half Jewish doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish. And even if you aren’t practicing that doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish either. I had a friend in high school that was half Jewish and people at temple would make him feel unwelcome. You don’t have to worry about that here.”

“Oh um, thanks? But it’s not that. Look, I know I’m Jewish. People have been making that clear to me for my whole life.”

“What do you mean?” Holster asked.

Bitty then began to regale all of the things he’s experienced. All of the prejudice, the slurs, the pennies, the swastikas. All of the pain that came with being the Jew in the south.

Holster listened, “Bits, that’s really rough dude. And like, I get it, some things are too painful. But it’s not like that at Samwell. Sure there are assholes everywhere, and it’s not like there’s never any antisemitism but, if you haven’t noticed based on the hockey team already, you aren’t alone here! There’s a whole Jewish community that’s got your back.

"Listen, why don’t you come to Hillel with me for Rosh Hashana, we can make your Moomas soup together! And maybe even Jack will help and not complain. Just, I don’t want you to have to feel like that about yourself.”

Bitty begins to decline the invitation but then something stops him. He remembers being a little kid, dipping apple slices in honey and chasing his mama around the house with sticky fingers.

“Alright I’ll go.”

And he does.
And he loves it.

He starts going to Hillel with Holster after that, and sometimes Jack tags along, sometimes so does Shitty. And in his Sophomore year, Nursey comes along with, and then his junior year comes Tango.

He makes matzo ball soup by the barrel, and re-learns the prayers for the Shabbat candles.

But it’s in his freshman year that he goes home for Winter break and pulls out the old Star of David ornament and puts it on the tree.

He asks his mom if he could help light the Chanukah candles and she looks shocked at first, but then she smiles and says “of course sweetheart.”

Later he hands her a present. It’s a long and thin box wrapped in silver paper with a little blue bow on top.

She takes it from his hand carefully, like its a shard of glass or something.

She opens it and It’s a silver mezuzah cover.

It’s a fresh start.

A cage of golden glass

Synopsis: There was you. An ordinary human girl, wrong place, wrong time. Then there was Loki. God of Mischief, war criminal. When Thor brings you to Asgard to ensure your safety, there is nobody else you come to hate more passionately than his evil foster brother. Then Odin finally decides on a new and much more effective kind of punishment for Loki, causing your whole world to fall apart. He would simply marry him off to a mortal, someone who is, by all means, “beneath” him. You.

Pairing: Loki x Reader
Rating: M
Chapter: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Words: 7217
Warnings: smut, forced marriage

Read it on AO3!

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Sweet Creature

Click here if you’d like to listen to the song to help set the mood. x

It was one of those days.

Harry adored his job. He really did. His work was his first love, he always said. But there were certainly days where it all got to be a little too much.

He woke up at six in the morning to be greeted by a rainy and foggy sky outside. He spent a good ten minutes gazing at the great love of his life, her hair splayed in all different directions from having forgotten to tie it up in a ponytail like she usually did. Her lips were slightly parted, and her eyes were still puffy from the night before. He exhaled a sigh at the memory of it—it was the first time they’d really fought in a little while, but it’d been a doozy. Exhaustion took it’s toll on the both of them, but they were both too stubborn to admit it. It had been over something petty that he wasn’t even angry about anymore, even though at the moment in all seemed so important. And even though they tried to never go to bed angry, their tired eyes beat out the need to make up.

He exhaled a soft sigh as he watched his love, and he could see the tension built up in her features still from last night. He didn’t want to wake her just yet, because he knew that she would not love being woken up at six in the morning if she didn’t need to get up. The two of them rarely ever got a good night’s sleep anymore, and he didn’t want to take away her rest.

He got himself out of bed and walked over to the bathroom, going about his morning routine as quietly as possible as to not wake his girls. Within half an hour he was dressed up in a pair of black jeans and one of his button-ups. Usually he wouldn’t get so dolled up to go out this early, but he had a few morning radio shows he was making a live guest appearance on and impressions mattered to him. Having decided to get breakfast on the way to work, he quickly slipped out of the house without making a sound.

The rest of the day didn’t get any better.

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rule breakers. (m)

based on the prompt, “best friend’s sibling au”

pairing:
kim taehyung | reader
genre: fluff, light smut
warnings: slight voyeurism
word count: 20,453
description: there’s some unresolved history involving your best friend’s brother… but hey, maybe some rules are meant to be broken.
author’s note: i get inspired by the oddest little tidbits, and i swear the word count was supposed to be half the amount you see up there. also, say hello to the longest one-shot i’ve done so far.

Originally posted by kths

You have one of the greatest fortunes to be acquainted with the Kims in your first year of primary education, and perhaps it’s what has led you to one of your greatest downfalls (but we’ll get into that later on).

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Undercover ~ BTS!Mafia AU Pt. 1

Thank you for 2,000! We hope you enjoy! - The Admins

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is the leader of a Mafia. He’s a drug lord, rich, and a murderer. And you? You’re just (Y/N). But to Jungkook you’re his everything, and he will do anything he can to keep you safe.

Type: A bit of everything

Warnings for this part: Guns, SMUT!, Blood, shitty fight scenes (i tried bro), language, drugs, angst

Group: BANGTAN BOYS

PART 2


You had just gotten off of work and headed over to Jimin’s place. You hadn’t talked to him all day and decided you’d pay him a surprise visit. You used your key to unlock the door and set your bag down on the small table next to it. 

You had barely taken a few steps into the house when you heard a moan, Jimin’s moan. ‘He’s probably masturbating’ You thought, it wasn’t the first time you had walked in on him jerking off. 

He did it when he was impatient and you’d always come home at just the right time to be able to help him. You smiled to yourself and slipped off your shoes before walking towards his door at the end of the hall.

As you went to grab the handle you heard another moan, a woman’s moan. ‘Is he watching porn?’ You thought and grabbed onto the knob. 

“Oh Jimin! Right there!” A woman cried, you could tell he was having sex with her, the noises of skin slapping got louder. 

You opened the door and saw a sight that you would never forget. A woman was underneath Jimin, her legs were out and he was thrusting into her quickly while letting out those grunts that made you so wet. But you were just disgusted. Hearing those noises made you want to puke. 

You watched in shock as he used a hand to grab onto her breast and squeeze her nipple while the other moved down and he used his thumb to rub her clit. His back was facing you and she had her eyes closed, she was moaning too loudly to even hear you walk into the room. 

She was right on the brink of her orgasm when you almost screamed. 

“REALLY JIMIN?!” He had one last snap of his hips that made her orgasm before he quickly pulled out and stared at you. You watched as she squirted all over him and the sheets and gagged. 

“Wait! (Y/N)!” He got up and followed you as you ran down the hallway. His dick was red and hard, standing against his lower stomach but that was the last of his worries. 

“I-I can explain.” He stuttered, surprised that he had been caught. This wasn’t the first time he was fucking another girl, this had been going on for a while. Hell, he had been having sex with multiple girls all at once, he had been getting bored of (Y/N). 

You shook your head and said nothing while tears streamed down your face, your hands shook as you grabbed your shoes and slid them on your feet. 

“(Y/N), listen.” His hand reached out to grab yours and you flinched and slapped his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me! Don’t…” You grabbed your bag and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Please! Let me talk.” You could barely see clearly from the tears in your eyes. 

“No, I don’t wanna hear it.” You opened the door and ran down the hallway to the elevator, quickly closing the doors before Jimin could make it to you. 

You ran out of the apartment complex, barely making it out of the doors before throwing up on the grass. Everything you had eaten came up and you were dizzy while walking to your car. 

You took a minute and wiped away your tears and went home, never speaking a word to Park Jimin again.

5 months had passed since you’d said a word to Jimin. You came back the next day, collected all of your things you had left at his place, giving him back the shirts you took from him and walked passed him and didn’t look back. 

3 months after he had cheated, you went on a date with Jungkook and things went on from there. You had met Jungkook through Jimin and became your best friend. Whenever you and Jimin argued, you’d step outside and call Jungkook, letting out all of your problems. 

You haven’t had sex since the last time you and Jimin had slept together and that was nearly 3 weeks before you caught him cheating. 

Jungkook was rich, but you weren’t dating him for the money. When you met him, he looked like complete shit. Hair messy and unwashed, his eyes were bloodshot and he had bags underneath them. His shirt was wrinkled and he had dried up tears on his face. He walked in on you and Jimin watching a movie and told Jimin about how his girlfriend had broken up with him. 

He asked you on a date when you were complaining about being tired of being alone. You were tired of staying in bed all the time, crying because of your heartbreak. But Jungkook, he was everything you wanted and more. 

Jimin was great at first, but near the end of your relationship, you barely talked to each other anymore. 

Jungkook made you feel special, he got you what you want and simply asked for your love in return. You made it clear to him that you didn’t want the money, he was what you wanted. 


And now you were here today. 

Another day on the job. You lead another family to a table and handed them their menu’s. A dad, and two children. You politely smiled and rejected him when he asked you out on a date, stating you had a boyfriend. 

He smiled in understanding and proceeded to talk to his children. ‘If only more people here were like that’ you thought to yourself while going to hand their orders to the chef. 

Most of the men that went here were with their girlfriends and snuck over you on their way to the bathroom, trying to cop a feel. 

A few girls had even hit on you before, they stared and bit their lips, admiring your body from head to toe. But you also rejected, again stating you had a boyfriend. 

When your shift was over, you said goodnight to everyone and made your way home to your apartment. You said hello to the friendly old lady who was working on opening her door, her poor old shaky hands struggling with putting the key in the hole. You watched as she walked in and then walked into your apartment. You turned on the lights and kicked off your shoes, stretching before laying down on your couch. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and read the text messages from your friends and quickly replied before shooting a text message to Jungkook. 

‘Just got off work. How was your day?’ 


Jungkook was currently at one of his clubs with Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon. Jimin was dealing cocaine, laughing and joking around with one of their clients. Jungkook was sat in a chair, silently watching everyone closely. 

Yoongi had a girl on his lap, she was grinding against him while they made out. Music was blaring and some other people were dancing. 

Hoseok was in another room, having sex with one of his usual girls. When the DJ would switch the songs, you could hear their moans, she was literally screaming. 

Jungkooks phone vibrated when he noticed something odd. One of his clients had a gun tucked into his belt, which was strictly against the rules. No one but Jungkook and a few others were allowed to carry a gun on them while at the clubs. 

Jungkook got up and walked over to Jimin, putting his hand on his shoulder and tapping his finger 3 times. This was their signal. Jimin shrugged his arm off of his shoulder and when they made eye contact, Jungkook’s hand made it’s way to his gun. 

Jimin’s hand reached into his pocket and wrapped around the handle of a knife and by this time their ‘clients’ had noticed what they were doing. 

In a second, guns were raised. 

Yoongi and the girl had broken up, he was stood next to her, gun raised and she had one in her hand also. Namjoon was aimed at the one who was aiming at Yoongi. 

Jimin made the first move and quickly stabbed his knife into the man’s gut that was standing behind him. His arm shot up, hitting his arm so the gun went off and the bullet went into the ceiling. 

Jungkook quickly shot the next two, one of their bullets grazing his shoulder. Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, and the other female shot at a few other people. Jungkook shot at their leader but missed. 

He knocked the gun out of Jungkooks hand and he was just left with his hands. The man named Sooyoung stabbed the knife into Jungkook’s thigh, and Jungkook yelled at the pain. 

Jungkook punched him in the jaw knocking Sooyoung back. Jimin had just finished pulling his knife out of the chest of another man and threw it at Sooyoung, and it landed in his shoulder. 

Blood was soaking Jungkooks pant leg as he pushed Sooyoung down to the ground and straddled his waist so he couldn’t move. He pulled the knife out of his shoulder and stabbed him right in his chest. 

Sooyoung’s white dress shirt was soaked with blood and Jungkook got off of him, wiping his forehead but smearing blood on it. Jimin opened the door and yelled for everyone to get out so he and the others stayed behind to clean. 

“Jungkook, what happened?” Yoongi asked, looking over his body. 

“Stab wound to my thigh, I think that’s it.” He replied while staring at the dying body below him. Sooyoung coughed and tried to reach for a gun that was laying on the ground but Jungkook kicked it away with his foot and the remaining life left in Sooyoung slipped away. 

Jungkook took a seat and Namjoon already knew what to do. His hand wrapped around the handle tightly and the other pushed on Jungkook’s thigh. 

“Three.. Two..” Namjoon didn’t even get to one before he pulled the knife out and immediately started applying pressure. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook yelled and grabbed onto the arms of the chair. Namjoon’s hands were covered with blood and he bit his lip as Jungkook struggled to stay conscious. Yoongi grabbed onto Jungkook’s sleeve and ripped it so he could tie it around his thigh tightly. 

“I need to see (Y/N),” Jungkook said standing up and using the wall to stay stable. 

“What Jungkook? No, you need medical attention.” Namjoon said, stepping in front of the door. 

“Let me see (Y/N)!” He said sternly before pushing Namjoon out of the way and limping out to his ride. He paid someone to drive him to her apartment and by the time he arrived it was 2 in the morning. 


A tired (Y/N) opened the door and she was in one of his t-shirts. “Jungkook?” You gasped and pulled him inside quickly. 

“What happened?“ 

”(Y/N), I need help.“ He avoided your question and you led him into the bathroom and slowly stripped him of his clothes. 

He sat there in his boxers as you wiped away the blood from him and grabbed your first-aid kit from underneath the sink. You used some alcohol to clean where the bullet grazed his shoulder and you almost cried when you saw his thigh. 

“Jesus.” You whispered and very slowly dabbed the alcohol onto it in which Jungkook tried his best not to yell. 

“I need stitches.” He could barely speak and you nodded and grabbed a needle and thread and tried the best you possibly could. 

When you were finished, Jungkook was laid in your bed and you were cleaning the blood in the bathroom. 

“You doing okay?” You asked when you stepped back into the room. 

“For now.” He nodded, the pain meds were finally kicking in. 

“Now, tell me what the fuck happened to you.“ 

He said nothing.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked patiently at Jungkook.

“Look Jun-”

Might I just say @mortemistrata that I was a little unsure about this prompt at first, but I had so much fun writing this! 

“Good morning, Keith.”

Keith froze with one eyebrow arched. He slowly studied the brunet in front of him. “No ‘mullet’ this morning?”

“That would be rude,” Lance said, lips curled into a frown.

Keith’s face fell until he was matching the brunet’s expression. “Are you okay?” He zeroed in on small details, like the way Lance’s normally tan skin looked slightly washed out or the dark, bruised circles under Lance’s almost lifeless eyes.

“Of course.” Lance replied, tone even. “We should go before we are late to breakfast.”

Keith absently nodded, brows furrowed deeply, as he followed the brunet into the dining hall.

Keep reading

la madrugada: dawn (00:00 ~ 5:00)
la mañana: morning (~5:00 - 11:59)
la tarde: afternoon (12:00 ~ 19:59)
la noche: evening / night (20:00 - 23:59)

anteayer: the day before yesterday
ayer: yesterday
hoy: today
mañana: tomorrow
pasado mañana: the day after tomorrow

el día: day
la semana: week
el fin de semana: weekend
el mes: month
el año: year
la estación: season

¿Cuál es la fecha de hoy? - What is the date today?
¿A qué fecha estamos hoy? - What is the date today?
Hoy es … : Today is …
27 de mayo de 2017 (veintisiete de mayo de dos mil diecisiete)

los días de la semana: days of the week
¿Qué día es hoy? - What day is today?
Hoy es … : Today is …
lunes: Monday
martes: Tuesday
miércoles: Wednesday
jueves: Thursday
viernes: Friday
sábado: Saturday
domingo: Sunday

*We use “el” or “lo” with the days. And we don’t use capital letters.
El lunes voy a ir al doctor. - I’m going to the doctor on Monday.
Los jueves tengo clases de piano. - On Thursdays I have piano classes.

los meses del año: months of the year
¿En qué mes estamos? - What moth are we in?
Estamos en… : We’re in …
enero: January
febrero: February
marzo: March
abril: April
mayo: May
junio: June
julio: July
agosto: August
septiembre: September
octubre: October
noviembre: November
diciembre: December

las estaciones del año: seasons of the year
¿En qué estación estamos? - What season are we in?
Estamos en … : We’re in …
la primavera: spring
el verano: summer
el otoño: fall
el invierno: winter

We use “en” with months and seasons. And we don’t use capital letters either.
Voy a viajar en agosto. - I’m going to travel in August.
Visito a mi familia en (el) verano. - I visit my family in the summer.

la semana pasada: last week
el fin de semana pasado: last weekend
el mes pasado: last month
el año pasado: last year
la primavera pasada: last Spring
el verano/ otoño/ invierno pasado: last Summer/ Fall/ Winter

esta semana: this week
este fin de semana: this weekend
este mes: this month
este año: this year
esta primavera: this Spring
este verano/ otoño/ invierno: this Summer/ Fall/ Winter

la próxima semana: next week
el próximo fin de semana: next weekend
el próximo mes: next month
el próximo año: next year
la próxima primavera: next Spring
el próximo verano/ otoño/ invierno: next Summer/ Fall/ Winter

also:
la semana que viene: next week
el fin de semana que viene: next weekend
el mes que viene: next month
el año que viene: next year

segundo: second
minuto: minute
hora: hour

¿Qué hora es? - What time is it?
1:00 = Es la una: It’s 1:00
2:00 = Son las dos: It’s 2:00
3:00 = Son las tres en punto: It’s three o´clock
4:15 = Son las cuatro y cuarto: It’s a quarter past four
5:30 = Son las cinco y media: It’s half past five
6:45 = Son las siete menos cuarto: It’s a quarter to seven
6:45 = Son cuarto para las siete: It’s a quarter to seven (same as previous one)

… de la madrugada: at dawn
de la mañana: in the morning
de la tarde: in the afternoon
de la noche: in the evening / at night
medio día: noon
media noche: midnight

todos los días: every day
todas las semanas: every week
todos los fines de semana: every weekend
todos los meses: every month
todos los años: every year
todas las mañanas: every morning
todas las tardes: every afternoon
todas las noches: every evening/night
todas las primaveras: every Spring
todos los veranos/ otoños/ inviernos: every Summer/ Fall/ Winter

todo el día: all day
toda la semana: all week, the whole week
todo el fin de semana: the whole weekend
todo el mes: the whole month
todo el año: the whole year
toda la mañana: the whole morning
toda la tarde: the whole afternoon
toda la noche: all night
toda la primavera: the whole Spring
todo el verano/ otoño/ invierno: the whole Summer/ Fall/ Winter

cada día: each day
cada semana: each week
cada fin de semana: each weekend
cada mes: each month
cada año: each year
cada mañana: each morning
cada tarde: each afternoon
cada noche: each evening/night
cada primavera: each Spring
cada verano/ otoño/ invierno: each Summer/ Fall/ Winter

cada dos horas: every two hours
cada tres días: every three days
cada dos semanas: every two weeks
cada seis meses: every six months
cada cuatro años: every four years

una vez: once
dos veces: twice
tres veces: three times
una vez al día: once a day
dos horas al día: two hours a day
tres veces a la semana: three times a week
cuatro días a la semana: four days a week
cinco veces al mes: five times a month
seis días al mes: six days a month
siete veces al año: seven times a year
ocho meses al año: eight months a year

la primera vez: the first time
la segunda vez: the second time
la tercera vez: the third time
la cuarta vez: the fourth time
la quinta vez: the fifth time

el pasado: the past
el presente: the present
el futuro: the future

ahora: now
en este momento: at this moment
estos días: these days
por el momento: at the moment
últimamente: recently

siempre: always
casi siempre: most of the time, almost always
la mayoría de las veces: most of the times
a menudo / seguido: often
normalmente: usually
a veces: sometimes
rara vez: seldom
casi nunca: rarely, hardly ever
nunca: never

otra vez / de nuevo: again

hoy en día: nowadays
hasta ahora: so far, up to now
hasta la fecha / hasta hoy: until today

hace: ago
hace dos semanas: two weeks ago
hace tres meses: three months ago
hace cuatro años: four years ago

antes (de): before
después (de): after

justo antes (de): just before
justo después (de): just after

después: later
luego: then, later
ya: already
desde: since, from
hasta: until
de: from
a: to

de lunes a viernes: from Monday to Friday
desde el lunes hasta el viernes: from Monday until Friday

pronto: soon
inmediatamente: immediately
de repente: suddenly

temprano: early
a tiempo: on time
tarde: late

al mismo tiempo: at the same time
durante: during

un momento: a moment
hace un momento: a moment ago
Un momento, por favor. - Just a second, please.

cualquier momento: any time
cualquier hora: any hour/time
cualquier día: any day
cualquier semana: any week
cualquier fin de semana: any weekend
cualquier mes: any month
cualquier año: any year

algún momento: some time
algún día: some day
alguna semana: some week
algún fin de semana: some weekend
algún mes: some month
algún año: some year

¿Cuándo? - When?
¿Cuánto tiempo […]? - How long […]?
¿Cuántos días/ meses/ años […]? - How many days/ months/ years […]?
¿Desde cuándo […]? - Since when[…]?
¿Hace cuánto tiempo (que) […]? - Since when […]? (same as previous one)
¿Hasta cuándo […]? - Until when […]? By when […]?
¿Para cuándo […]? - By when […]?

Tener tiempo: To have time
No tener tiempo: To not have time
Tardarse: to take time

el cumpleaños: birthday
¿Cuándo es tu cumpleaños? - When is your birthday?
Es el 2 de marzo: It’s on March 2nd

el aniversario: anniversary
la cita: appointment; date
las vacaciones: vacation
el día festivo/ feriado: the holiday
la fecha límite: due date
la fecha de vencimiento: expiration date
la fecha de entrega: due date (for school/work projects, homework…)


I hope this was helpful. 
If you have more, please share it with us :)

GoTG Meet Avengers


Peter stares, watching them all a little blankly. By his side, Tony has his head in his hands. He’s been groaning for the past twenty seconds.


“So… you went on a ten-year murder spree where you joined a terror organisation of your own free will in order to kill Tony, who wasn’t even responsible for the death of your parents in the first place- and then decide that just Tony isn’t murderous enough for you, and go for the rest of his team for some reason, too?”

Across the room, Wanda bristles. “It wasn’t like-”

“And then your team leader let you on the team you were trying to murder? Almost immediately after the one single fight you helped them with?” Gamora interrupts. Her eyes are cold and dangerous. 

Steve opens his mouth to defend himself, but Drax cuts in. “And you,” he gestures harshly at clint, “you were willing to abandon your family and get yourself arrested, just so you could involve yourself in a matter that did not concern you anyway?”

“You think I wanted to be arrested? That was all Tony-” Clint begins, but Drax roars, and Clint rears back, eyes wide and hand reaching for the bow at his hip.

“TONY STARK DID NOT FORCE YOU TO BREAK YOUR LAWS! I WAS PUT IN JAIL BECAUSE I FOUGHT FOR MY FAMILY, NOT-”

“Drax, stay calm. These people are breakable,” Gamora warns, although she is staring at them all as if she wants nothing better than to let Drax get himself worked up over them. 

“You know, Tony has only been giving you his view on everything that happened,” Steve counters. He’s looking at Tony like… like he’s disappointed in him, and that’s enough to get Rocket yelling angrily.

“Oh, so you sayin’ you didn’t tear the team he invested his time, his love, his effort into, apart- all so you could save a guy that Tony had offered to rehabilitate in the first place anyway? Or what about the fact you didn’t tell him that your best bud murdered his parents? That a lie too?” He snarls, and on his shoulder, Groot’s arms are slowly growing, pricklier and heavier- he can feel the weight on his shoulders.

“I think everyone needs to calm down, here-” Sam begins, but Gamora silences him, knuckles cracking as she steps forward.

Sam, wisely, takes a step back.

 “You do not get to talk- not when you chose to put your trust in a man you met for three seconds, whilst he was breaking into Tony’s compound, over the actual Avenger and team-mate himself,” she hisses, hands thrown up into the air as she turns to face all of them now.

“You sicken me. I may fight and argue and be frustrated with my team- but at the end of the day, they are still my family. They are still the people I would trust without a second thought,” she shoots a glare at Sam, “who I would always tell the truth to, even if it hurts,” Steve looked at the floor, jaw set in a grim line, “and who I would never, ever ask to be on the same team as a woman who subdued them to their worst fears and tried to kill them. I would rather die.”

She spat on the floor, and then turned away. “I am going back to the ship. You may continue your discussions if you must, but I am finished. I will only kill one of them if this continues.”

“That would be a shame,” Drax says quietly, his voice low and threatening.

Tony, who spent the majority of the conversation absolutely silent, speaks up at that point. “Hey! Drax used sarcasm!”

No one laughs. He goes back to holding his head in his hand.

Peter just looks slightly sick. His hand is wrapped very, very tightly around Tony’s.


“You know that post of text that Tony showed us a few weeks ago? He called it a… a me-me? With the breadsticks and the asshole date?” Rocket pipes up after a few seconds of silence, gun still spinning ominously in his fingers. “I think it’s time for us to shove Tony in our spaceship and say we have to go, right now, immediately.”


Despite everything, Tony lets a huff of laughter escape at that. Peter- seeming to suddenly snap out of his horrified trance- nods his head approvingly, beginning to tug on Tony’s hand. “Yes. I agree. Wonderful though this diplomatic meeting of teams was, I’m afraid we have urgent business to attend to. We have to… show Tony… something awesome.”

“Yes. LOVE, AFFECTION AND VALIDATION!” Drax roars again, curling an arm around Tony’s shoulders and placing the most violent and angry kiss possible on top of his hair.

“Later, losers!” Rocket calls out, sticking his middle finger up behind him and then turning to punch Tony’s thigh gently before scarpering back to the ship.

Groot hops down from Rocket and then latches on to Tony’s forearm, clambering up his arm until he was resting on Tony’s shoulder instead. Tony glances over at him and grins happily. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Groot.

“hey,” he whispers, as the tiny tree alien quickly began to grow a few flowers, and then plucked them off his hand and tucked them into Tony’s hair. “I am Groot,” he whispers right back in reply.

Tony smiles, rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t worry about them- I left them behind a long time ago.”


Steve hears that. He looks at tony for a long time, his eyes a little sad and regretful.


Tony just stares right back, and then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, adjusting the beginning of the flower-crown Groot was making for him.

“Call me the next time it gets too much for you guys to handle,” he calls out after them, as Peter and Drax both steer him hurriedly back toward the ship and away from his old team.

Groot giggles on his shoulder, and then places another flower behind his ear. “I am Groot!”


“I agree,” Tony says, just as Peter nods his own approval, gently bumping their shoulders together. “Let’s go and play Space-Tag.”

Maggie Stiefvater talks 'All the Crooked Saints,' and here's a first look at the cover

Maggie Stiefvater may have concluded the Raven Cycle just last year, but the author already has a new stand-alone YA novel hitting shelves later this year.

The book, titled All the Crooked Saints, takes place in the 1960s in Bicho Raro, Colorado and follows the lives of three members of the Soria family-each of whom is searching for their own miracle. There’s Beatriz, who appears to lack feelings but wants to study her mind; Daniel, the “Saint” of Bicho Raro, a miracle worker for everyone but himself; and Joaquin (a.k.a. Diablo Diablo), who runs a pirate radio station at night.

Adding to the mystery (and magic) of the book is the book’s intriguing cover-which EW is pleased to reveal exclusively below.

“There are owls in the book because owls are a very scientific creature that gets credited with a lot of magical superstitions,” Stiefvater tells EW. “There are roses in the book because roses are a very magical flower that take a lot of science to truly understand. Put that together and well - as the kids say, that’s it. That’s the book.”

With Stiefvater’s latest novel set to hit stores on Oct. 10, EW caught up with the bestselling author to find out more about what’s in store for readers, her process, and of course, her upcoming Ronan Lynch trilogy.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: All three of your characters are looking for a miracle. What do miracles, or the idea of miracles mean to them?
MAGGIE STIEFVATER: Miracles! Miracles! Miracles! This book is full of them. I was taught by nuns for the first dozen years of my life, and so I was raised with a pantheon of peculiar saints: decapitated saints who carried their own severed head through the streets of cities, saints who exorcised demons from the bottoms of milk pails, saints who flew unexpectedly.

The Soria family are saints as well, and the miracle they perform for pilgrims to Bicho Raro is as strange as most miracles are: They can make the darkness inside you visible. Once the pilgrims see their inner darkness face to face, it’s up to them to perform another miracle on themselves: banishing the darkness for good. It can be a tricky business to vanquish your inner demons, even once you know what they are, but the Sorias are forbidden to help with this part. They’ve all been told that if a Soria interferes with the second miracle, it will bring out their own darkness, and a saint’s darkness, so the story goes, is a most potent and dangerous thing.

The three cousins in the story all have their own relationship with the family miracles: Daniel, the current acting Saint of Bicho Raro, wants to help the pilgrims overcome their darkness through holiness and empathy. Beatriz, on the other hand, would prefer if the Sorias approached the miracle from a more logical and scientific place. And Joaquin is less interested in miracles and more interested in broadcasting rock & roll from a pirate radio station in the back of a battered box truck.

How did you come up with the name “Bicho Raro”?
I’d just finished writing the rather heavy final installment of the Raven Cycle, and I thought it would be nice to switch things up with something playful and - dare I say it? “Feel good”? Does that sound like a Stiefvater novel to you?

So I tried to be as playful in my language as I could. I figured if my words were frolicking, readers might too. “Bicho raro” (“rare bug”) is just a little way to speak fondly about odd people, like “strange bird” or “odd duck.” It’s less about the Soria family themselves and more about the varied pilgrims who come to Bicho Raro.

What inspired the novel’s setting?
Three years ago, I convinced Scholastic that instead of flying to all of my tour events for Sinner, the companion book to the Shiver trilogy, I would instead drive my 1973 Camaro to them. Seven thousand miles, coast to coast, just an American girl in a muscle car, seeing the breadbasket of our fine country while hawking a novel about burned-out werewolves - nothing could go wrong.

Spoiler: Everything went wrong. I spent my time evenly divided between meeting readers and repairing the Camaro by the side of the road.

At one point, the brakes went out (for the second time), and I coasted into an auto repair shop in Del Norte, Colorado. The sun was white, the air was dust, and the mountains were sharp as hell all around. While I waited for the mechanic to take a look at my brake lines, the receptionist told me tall tales and ghost stories about straight-arrow desert roads and demons dancing in the dust and strangers appearing in the night.

I thought to myself: This is where my next novel takes place.

What made you decide to set All the Crooked Saints in the 60s? Is there something in the history of Colorado at that time that speaks to you?
Music! Music! Music! When I was growing up in the 80s, my father always had the radio set to the Golden Oldies - I didn’t realize, in fact, that it wasn’t contemporary music. I thought Del Shannon and Patsy Cline and the Byrds were everyone’s current groove. Even after I discovered differently, it didn’t matter; that music had become the sound of my childhood. There’s something about 60s music and the 60s in general that I think pairs perfectly with a novel about the teen experience - 60s America was going through an adolescence in a lot of ways, and it was a time of mystical joy, innocence lost, increasingly uncomfortable self-awareness of the limitations of tradition, and colorful agitation for change, all of it emotional and urgent. If that’s not a description of being a teen, I don’t know what is.

I’ve been dying to write a novel steeped with the music of that time for about five years now, and for this one, it made sense. I had an incredibly grand and self-indulgent time listening to the music Joaquin and Beatriz spin in their covert broadcasts.

Your work has always been infused with aspects of magical realism. What would you say are some of your influences?
Magic! Magic! Magic! For this book in particular, Isabel Allende, Gabriel Garca Mrquez, Erick Setiawan, Ali Shaw, and maybe even John Irving - I have read a lot of wonderful magic realism and wry, intimate family stories over the last decade, and Saints is my affectionate nod to them. It was also informed by movies, though - I really wanted to capture the mood of films like Big Fish, Chocolat, and Amlie. That whimsy and magic and nostalgia. These are strange, hard times that we’re living in, and I wanted to write about magic - I always do - but I also felt like I wanted to leave readers with something that made them happy, hopeful, and excited about all the odd miracles that exist in the world and in themselves.

Of course, I have to ask one question about the upcoming Ronan trilogy. Is there anything you could tease about it?
Insert, Stiefvater said, an enigmatic smile here.

All the Crooked Saints will be available for purchase on Oct. 10.

This article was originally published on ew.com

Request: Storm

Request: Can you write one where the reader breaks down to Bobby because she is pregnant with Dean’s baby. Thank you :)

Word Count: 1,069

<3

The rain has been coming down in buckets all night, and the wind whips at the sides of the house in such a way that every now and again, the foundations shake so severely that Bobby nearly ends up waiting out the storm in the panic room.

When he sees the flash of light outside the window followed by a rumble, he isn’t paying enough attention to think of it as anything but another facet of the storm. What he does pay attention to, however, is the frantic, loud knocking that reverberates well beyond the door.

The knocking doesn’t stop until he answers, pulling the door open to be bet with a harsh gust of wind.

“Y/N?” You’re soaked and dishevelled, and he isn’t sure which has smeared your makeup more – the rain, or the tears you’re trying and failing to hold back.

“Can- can I come in?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s the only thing your fuzzy, addled brain can come up with. Bobby doesn’t speak, but he nods, ushering you into the warmth of the house where you grew up and forcing the door closed against the wind.

“What the hell are you doing out in this?” Driving in this weather would be dangerous enough without you being in a complete state. You don’t reply, though, shivering in the hallway and wiping at your face in frustration. It scares him – you’re the closest thing he has to family: he’d raised you since you were six months old and your parents had been killed, leaving no-one to keep an eye on their demon-blood infected child. He’d taken you in, and found that he’d quickly become all too fond of you.

“Y/N, seriously. Where are Sam and Dean?” It must be something to do with them, because it elicits a sob from you, “I don’t want to play twenty questions with you.” He steps forward, resting his hands on your shoulders and pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead, “Give yourself some time, alright? Go get a shower, get changed. Everything’s fine. Nothing is going to hurt you while you’re here. I’ll make you a hot chocolate while you’re gone, just how you like it. How does that sound?”

To his eternal relief, that manages to get a nod and a weak smile from you, and he pulls you in for a gentle hug before letting you go. He doesn’t look away from you until you’re safely up the stairs, and then sighs to himself – he’s never seen you like this. But you need him, and he’ll be damned if you’re not going to have him to go to.

***

It’s nearly half an hour before he hears you coming down the stairs, but there’s nothing wrong with that – especially when he sees how much better you’re looking. Sure, your eyes are still red-rimmed and you’re still shaking with the effort it takes not to cry, but at least your clothes are warm and dry and your lips are no longer bluish with the cold.

You shuffle into the room and take a seat, swallowing hard before looking up at Bobby. He sets the hot chocolate – piled high with cream, chocolate shavings, and marshmallows – in front of you, and then takes the seat next to yours. The storm outside still batters the windows, but the kitchen is warm, and with the pair of you bathed in warm light, it’s almost cosy.

“Talk to me.” Bobby prompts softly, reaching over and resting his hand over the top of yours. He sees the way you flinch at the gesture, and for a moment he thinks the worst, “Is it Dean? Has he hurt you?” He hadn’t been overly happy when you’d begun dating the eldest Winchester two and a half years ago, but you’d been happy, and Dean had given him a heartfelt promise that his intentions were pure – but Bobby had promised in return that the moment Dean so much as breathed the wrong way at you, he’d find himself without the means to do so again.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me if you want to fix this.”

“I can’t fix it.” You speak properly for the first time since you stepped into the house, “It’s broken. Very broken.”

“Still with the ambiguous, sweetheart.”

It takes you a few moments to muster up the courage to come out with it, but eventually, you do.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence, apart from the sounds of the storm outside, fills the room. For a long moment, he can’t find it in himself to speak – and then…

“Do not drink that.” He wraps his spare hand around the mug and slides it away from you, reminded suddenly of the copious amount of whiskey he just dropped into that, “Is it… it’s Dean’s?”

You scoff, “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Of course it is.” Sorrow and bitterness taint your tone in equal measure, and Bobby winces.

“Have you told him?” He tries, and you nod again.

“Yeah. That’s what the second problem is.” You sigh, pulling your hand away from his in order to run your hands over your face, skilfully masking a sob – but not enough. Bobby knows you inside and out, and picks up on it instantly.

“He reacted badly?”

“If saying I’d ruined everything and needed to get the hell out of his sight is reacting badly, then I’d say so, yeah.” You spit, but your voice breaks and before you know it, your head is on his shoulder and you’re sobbing openly into him, everything coming out. He holds onto you tightly, a silent promise that he’ll never let you go; that you always have him.

***

It’s nearly three hours later, by the time he’s managed to calm you down and get you asleep. You’re still asleep on the sofa when his phone rings. He answers, begrudgingly, when he realises who it is.

“Dean?”

“Bobby? Have you heard from Y/N? She’s gone and we’ve been trying to track her all night, but we haven’t found anything.” He rattles off, his voice frantic and shaking.

“Why? What happened?” Bobby asks, watching you sleeping form.

“We got in a fight. I said something stupid. God, Bobby, I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t…” He cuts himself off, and swallows hard, “Have you heard from her?”

He pauses, “Nope. Nothing. I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

anonymous asked:

dark rc would you please consider writing about how victor (and the rest of the Russian skate team) had a feud with the Russian hockey team bc of their constant flirting and attentions towards yuuri (who was completely oblivious at the war waging for his heart)??

This has been sitting in my inbox for over a month and I apologize for that, nonny! I wanted to try my hand at breaking through this writer’s block and this prompt was ripe for the taking. It’s not my best work by any stretch, but it’s something at least! I hope you enjoy.

+

There are few things that give Yuri pleasure—the taste of accomplishment like cinnamon sugar on the back of his tongue after landing a quad; having a comeback so cutting that he practically draws blood; that soft murrf a cat makes when it decides it trusts him; the little green screenshot arrow appearing next to Otabek’s name in Snapchat—but they all pale in comparison to whenever the Russian hockey team visits the rink.

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restingbitchfaceisnotsadface  asked:

"I can start with how I went to marine science camp as a kid and end with that time I accidentally brought a flamethrower into the county courthouse" --- PLEASE EXPLAIN IM SO CONFUSED D:

So, when I was a kid, my parents worked full time, so during the summer, my sister and I were enrolled in day-camp so we’d be adequately tired when we got home, and my FAVORITE  camp was Marine Science Camp, run by MSI on the banks of redwood creek, right off the San Francisco bay.  It was AWESOME: we got to dissect squid, there was a literal shark tank, which we got to fish leopard sharks out of and Tag Them For Scientific Research, ad we’d go out on the boat once a week and do things like haul a net full of fish out, use a scoop to study benthic creatures and look at plankton under a microscope.  I realize now we were essentially doing transects, dissections and other field/lab work for a bunch of grad students but it was FUN.  

I totally wanted to be a marine biologist when I grew up and would tell anyone who asked me what I was into about nematocyts and oceanic acidification until The Adult realized their mistake and fled.

At the same time, I was pursing an aggressive interest in the visual arts, which my parents heavily encouraged, becuase they are excellent parents and because it;s was a QUIET hobby unlikely to result in bodily harm, unlike my sister, who got into karate and Theater, which is a surprising dangerous combination.

But then i got to college and realized an issue with this plan: I, hands down, SUCK at chemistry.  I did okay in into becuase I’m great at taking standardized tests, and the teacher got suspended halfway through the semester for getting into a fistfight with another prof for poaching his grad student, but Organic Chemistry was a disaster.  I’ve never been good at arithmetic, and balancing chemical equations is something i need the dang molecule models for. So marine bio was a No-Go.

So I switched my major over to Art, which turned out to be kind of a disaster (the school managed to lose an entire semester of my grades because the Art Department kept really sloppy records and i ended up dropping out and resuming college elsewhere) and AMAZING, becuase I took a human figure drawing course with professor [REDACTED] who announced on the third day of class:  “SWEET THE FOOLS JUST GAVE ME TENURE.  CAN’T FIRE ME NOW, SO LEMME SHOW YOU HOW TO MAKE A FLAMETHROWER”

The thing she actually taught us was how to modify a culinary butane torch to empty the canister at a much higher rate than any manufacturer anywhere recommends, which gives you and AWESOME bigass jet of blue flame, but only lasts about 30 seconds per container.  She also showed us how to make bandeliers so we could carry multiple containers, “just in case”.

In more practical lessons, we were in class when the first gov’t shutdown happened, so we didn’t have money for models, so she oped to bring in various animals for us to draw instead.  there was the usual cats and dogs, but also chickens, horses, a farm hog, a 12-foot Burmese Python and a baby deer that had been abandoned on her porch.  It was really fun, both becuase animals are amazing, and becuase they don’t hold still, so you learn to draw REAL FAST, which is a skill that’s served me well since.

A few years later, I was summoned for Jury Duty, and had to show up at the courthouse for selection.  HOWEVER, I’d put my usual bag in the wash the previous night, so I grabbed my old school backpack to take with me because I knew I had a sketchbook in there to amuse myself with.

I forgot I also had my flamethrower in there.

I live in a pretty low-crime area, so the metal detectors are actually pretty far into the building- you don’t get scanned until you’re actually going into the courtroom.  So for about three hours beforehand, I was sitting in the hallway having a Nice Chat with one of the state park rangers and the CEO of the local call center.  We get called in, and as we walk through, my backpack sets off the alarm.

“Fuck.” I say abruptly remembering what would have set it off.

“Do you have anything metal in your backpack?” the security guy asks me.  I think he was expecting me to say glasses.

“I forgot that I have my flamethrower in here. I’ll just leave this outside.”  I explain, hoping I’m not about to be arrested.

“Please open your bag or leave it outs- your WHAT?”  Dude stops halfway through his routine.

“Flamethrower.  I made it in art class and will definitely be leaving it here.” I say, carefully putting my bag on the table, zipper open , and pointing at the small butane torch.  The guard looks at it, looks at me (pls note, I am small, white, feminine and conventionally attractive so YOU BET privilege was happening here), before deciding that Art People Are Dumb and waving me in after wanding me to make sure I hadn’t accidentally brought anything else in my pockets.

I was not selected for jury duty.

In other news, I still have it, and it still works.  I use it for mass-toasting creme brulee.