(i would have had it on time but i wanted to color it...)

【Japan Official Fanclub Magazine Vol.5】BTS My Biography – Jimin’s part  

The middle school student who loves dancing became a member of BTS

My earliest memory is when I was 4 – 5 years old (nominal age) and we were moving to a new property nearby where we lived at the time. I held the rice cooker’s inner pot and helped my family to move. When I was a child, I loved to go outside to play with my hyungs and friends in the neighborhood every day. We often played football and hide & seek. Once I ran too far away and even ran to the nearby town (laughs).

In primary school, I loved to play with my friends. During the breaks, we often played football. Although I really liked drawing, I hated coloring. My future dreams changed constantly every day, I wanted to become a chef when I watched a cooking anime. When I watched ‘Galaxy Express 999’, I wanted to become the Galaxy Express’ driver, and I wanted to become a pirate when I watched ‘One Piece’.

I have a very good relationship with my young brothers, who’s 2 years younger. Sometimes, we play games together at home, or watch movies. I remember that we watched the anime ‘Dragon Balls’ and the movie ‘The Host’. We’re just like friends.

I got along with everyone in middle school. Although there’re 6 classes in my school, I pretty much knew everyone. I joined the football and table tennis clubs at school, I was happy every day back then.

I became interested in dancing during the 2nd grade of middle school. I used to go to practice punctually after school, and I started to attend a dance academy in 2010. I was also happy in the dance academy. Whenever I had time, I would go practice dance. I’ve also participated in big performances, but I was really nervous. Actually, even now sometimes I still get nervous when I stand on the stage.

A year before graduating from middle school, I started to think about attending an arts high school. I couldn’t even concentrate on studying when I was in the self-study room, I was worrying about “which high school should I attend? what do I want to do in the future…” While I was contemplating, I thought about having a job where I could stand on the stage. So, Busan Arts High school became my target. In dance majors, I wanted to learn dances that’s modern so I chose contemporary dance as my major. During high school, I spared no effort in dancing. At the time, my friends and I only knew dancing, we got together and practiced, messed around and then continued to practice. During high school, I also had to deal with the dance academy’s workload, but I worried about the tuition fees so I said: “I won’t attend the dance academy anymore.” However, the teacher said: “Jimin, you can attend even if you don’t pay.” The teacher took so much care of me, I wanted to repay the teacher so I practiced even harder. I learnt a lot under the guidance of the teacher. I’ve never thought about giving up dance, not even once.

During spring 2012, my middle school dance teacher contacted me so I auditioned and got accepted, then I decided to go to Seoul in May. The first member I met was Hobi hyung. Hyung welcomed me and said, “let’s work hard together!” Other members also came to talk to me, it just reminded me of the time when I arrived, I went to eat with everyone in the canteen. The happiest moment during the trainee life was when we eat and play together. I still have the amusement park ticket that we went together, I still carry that around in my wallet. It’s because it was the first time and first place that all of our members went together to play. So, it’s engraved on my memory. I’ve been carrying that ticket for about 5 years.

In Seoul, I got transferred to the same school as Taehyung. I was in Class 4 but Taehyung was in Class 2, the whole school knew Taehyung. Because Taehyung has a lot of friends so when he came to my class, he said to the students, “be nice to Jimin!” I’m really shy with strangers, but I gradually got close to my classmates thanks to Taehyung.

The most difficult part of the trainee life was the uncertainty of my future. I got anxious when I hear “you might get eliminated this time”, so I wanted to do my best with practicing. If I practiced until 3, 4am, I would sleep a bit and go practice singing at 6am for an hour and then go to school. This routine continued for about a year. At the time, I’ve never thought I could become a member of BTS, but I was chosen as a substitute member. The hyungs said: “we want to debut with Jimin”, and that became my strength. The feeling of wanting to debut with these hyungs grew stronger.

I was so excited when we debuted. The memories of when we had the showcase, we received a cake from our fans for the first time, after the showcase BTS members and staff members all cried, we went on music shows the next day, and Jin hyung cried. No matter how long it has been, I can’t forget those memories.

I don’t have anything new that I want to challenge in the future, I just want to challenge and see how far I can go with the things I’m doing now. I’m also diligently learning Japanese because I want to speak Japanese fluently!

Trans: KIMMYYANG (from Chinese - blinglingGI)
V’s palm reading; Jimin; Suga; Rap MonsterJungkook
BTS Ranking Q1 - 8

Lost in the Dark

Summary: Fairytales and fables exist for a reason. James knows too well; he’s the main character of one. 

Pairing: demon!Bucky Barnes x princess!Reader

Warnings: language, suspense [it’s not that scary tbh]

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Here is my submission for my hoe’s @rotisserierogers writing challenge. Sorry that it sucks; I am no good when it comes to scary things, so hopefully y’all like it? [prompt is bolded] | masterlist

Originally posted by enchanted-forests


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Drunk: Jungkook Scenario

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

Jungkook was drunk, you knew that as soon as you walked through the door of the boys’ dorm. He looked at you and headed upstairs without sparing you a second glance. The banging of his bedroom’s door sounded followed by a curse. Clearly he wasn’t in a good mood tonight. Despite that you headed upstairs to check on him

You slowly opened the door, looking around for Jungkook. He was laying on the bed with an arm covering his eyes and the other behind his head. You didn’t fail to notice the scowl he was sporting, replacing the boyish grin ever present on his face

“Kookie” you said quietly

No response

“Jungkook” you tried again

“What?” He asked annoyed

“… Are your okay?“

"Fine”

“Are you sure?”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I said I’m fine” he yelled, you couldn’t help but jump,startled from his sudden outburst

“I just wanted to help” you said in a small voice hurt by his words

He gave you a cold look that was so unlike him, “You want to help? Then leave me alone. You’re so clingy all the time! I need space.”

If what he wanted was to hurt you, he succeeded. You closed your eyes in an useless attempt to stop the pain,“I–I’m sorry. It’s almost midnight and we were supposed to meet up at the café tonight. I was worried about you”

He was now standing in front of you, “Well don’t be. I was fine. Happy even, not having to be around you for once!"He yelled

You flinched at his words, "Please don’t say that Kook” you whispered

His cold gaze found yours, “Why not? My life would be so much easier without you in it”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, “Jungkook”

“What? It’s true. If I weren’t dating you, I wouldn’t have to worry about the fans finding out about our relationship. I would actually have time to relax. I could–”

“Stop” you whispered cutting him off, the first tear making way down your face

He looked at you once more, “You know, maybe I deserve someone better. Better than you” he finished, voicing your biggest insecurity

You couldn’t help the sob that escaped your mouth. His cruel words cutting you. The dam that you had been trying to keep together broke and tears ran down your face. The sight of you crying seemed to sober him up and his face drained of color when he realized what he had said

He reached for you, “y/n”

You moved away from him and simply looked at the ground not bearing to look at him

“Y/n…. I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of that” his vice cracked as he struggled to hold it together

You didn’t believe him. You didn’t believe any of his words

“Y/n, please” he cried. He was so afraid, afraid he had lost you

You looked up. Tears were now running down his face too but you were too numb to care. “I–I’ll leave you alone” you whispered, trying to escape, escape him

“No! Y/n, please!” He said desperate blocking your way

You avoided his gaze, “Move please”

“look at me baby” he croaked, grabbing your face

His eyes were red and puffy, shining with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. Please don’t leave me. I love you. Please don’t leave” he said, his voice thick

You grabbed his hands from your face. Your eyes were void of emotion “goodbye Jungkook”

“Y/n”

You opened the door. You back facing him, “You said you deserve better… and maybe, maybe I deserve better too”

……………..

He didn’t know what had come over him and made him those words to you. He had had an argument with bts’ manager about him being in a relationship and you being a distraction, by the time he had gotten out of there he had been fuming with anger. He had had a few drinks to cool off but it hadn’t helped. If anything he was angrier. How dare he suggest such a thing? You weren’t a distraction, nothing career wise had change since he began dating you. He was always there to all of the practices, he was there when they had to be at the studio, he had even been writing songs. So what exactly was the problem? He didn’t see one. When you had gotten there, he had let all his anger out on you even though you had done nothing wrong

He didn’t mean what he said, not a single thing. You weren’t clingy, you always gave him space. And he loved to be around you, you are the only thing on his mine when you are not together. But what he regrets the most is bringing up your biggest insecurity. Not being good enough. And damn if you’re not good enough… You’re more than perfect. If anything he’s not good enough for you, and he guesses you finally realized that.

Now he sat in the bed. The bed where just that morning, you guys had lain together, your body cuddled against his. His words played over and over in his head wishing he could take it all back but knowing he couldn’t. He was alone in the room just as he had wanted when you first walked in but the only thing he wished now was for you to be there with him

Stay...

Have you ever heard of phantom limb? Where you know something that used to be there, isn’t anymore. But there are moments that you would swear, in pure lucidity that it still was?

That’s how I felt after the night we ended. The night I cried while I told him I couldn’t take it anymore. The night he begged me to understand; begged me to look at him and believe him when he said that the story splattered across the screens, wasn’t true.

Every night I climbed into bed and I’d lie awake until the tears that soaked my pillow had dried and my sadness turned to exhaustion. As I bordered the line between sleep and awake, I’d pull back the veil of consciousness to find him. To find us.

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Lay All Your Love on Me - Bucky x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: This is for @propertyofpoeandbucky ‘s writing challenge! I decided to use the song to inspire me and this is what came of it! I hope you like it!

Prompt: Lay all Your Love on Me by ABBA

Word Count: 1.1K

Notes/Warnings: Drinking, jealousy, self doubt, embarrassment, kissing.

Originally posted by bellamyblakesgun


“Promise?” You tugged on the collar of Bucky’s shirt. You were leaning against him, trapping him between you and the front door.

“Baby, I promise. It’s just a guys night. No dames, I swear.” He chuckled at your pouty jealousy. He rubbed his thumb on your cheek and leaned down to kiss your nose.

“None that you’re bringing. That doesn’t mean they won’t be there. It is a bar, Buck.” You chewed on the inside of your lip. You knew how ridiculous you sounded but you couldn’t help it. Bucky always had women looking at him. Not that you didn’t understand why; he’s gorgeous.

“(Y/N),” Bucky held your face in his hands and smiled at you. “I promise, no girls. You trust me, right?”

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“What is it?”

She sighs heavily before muttering, “I’m just nervous, what if they don’t like me and want to hurt me? I’m not like the rest of them, I can’t even be a wolf correctly. I just—” she says quickly with fidgeting fingers.

“I’m not gonna let you get hurt, Y/N. You’re apart of my pack, we stick together,” Harry tells her thoroughly, his fingers raising her chin up so she’s looking him directly in the eyes. She smiles at him and nods.

Or

Harry’s an alpha, and Y/N was bitten.  (12.1k+)

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✧ *.🎃Samhain Solitary Rituals🎃*✧

As the air grows cooler and the winds begin to howl and rip the dead leaves from trees, we know the veil is thin and Samhain is near! After the equinox, which was equal parts night and day, Samhain marks the time of the wheel that we descend into the darker half of the year. It’s this time of the year that communication and connection to the spirit world is a lot easier and we’ve grown accustomed to making wards to protect the home from malevolent energy in the form of jack o lanterns and lights. On a positive note it is a time to leave out treats and foods for passed away loved ones and to remember them. It’s the final harvest full of well spiced comfort autumn foods as well as a ‘New Year’ since it’s a sabbat that honors the natural cycle of death and sees it as a form of transformation.

A lot of us witches practice alone and have our own solitary rituals for each sabbat that we observe (or the ones we’ve created just for ourselves that we observe alone!) Like any solitary eclectic witch I do things my own different way but some of these things might line up with others practices. I do refer to some of the equinoxes/solstices/crossquarters by their celtic sabbat names but I celebrate them in a secular animist way and treat the wheel of the year I celebrate as more of an argrarian cycle and celebrating nature. I use sabbat names as a point of reference and also people that do celebrate these witches sabbats more traditionally might find value in my personal practice!  Here is my personal correspondences post and my personal samhain tag!

When I am alone and casting spells a lot of it is visualization/intent so my solitary rituals are more like activities I like to do then specifically casting a spell. If I am doing a spell with an activity based on it a lot would be listening to music to get in the mood and focusing on a candle while visualizing for a period of time! Eves are also important to my celebration as I like to stay up until midnight and cast a spell then!


Hallow’s Eve

Tuesday October 31st 2017

  • Dressing up in your most witchiest
    Ok every year I’m a witch, whether it’s just a lazy witch in my black clothing or an over the top kitschy witch with colorful hair and electric colored make up, but I just like to have these looks casually on Halloween day cause its amazing and a chance for me to be myself!

  • Pumpkin Carving!
    If you haven’t already tonight is definitely the night for pumpkin carving! Write sigils inside your pumpkin for protective magic. I love this DIY for a pumpkin indoor lantern cause it shows how to rub spices like cinnamon and nutmeg inside to achieve that sent of pumpkin pie in the home. Use electric candles instead of flame if you want it to last the night since the flame’s heat will cook the pumpkin.

  • Mini Pumpkin Tea lights
    Also an easier alternative to carving if you don’t have much time. Even gutting the mini pumpkins takes a lot of time for me but doing so and filling them with a black tea light will make an excellent centerpiece either for your altar or feast table!

  • Making Candy Apples
    I associate candy coated sweet red apples with halloween (and caramel/maple sugar on granny smith for mabon) and I love how you can make the candy various colors like a poisonous black or vibrant blood red!

  • Setting sweets aside for spirits
    So everyone has spirits that chill with them and it would be great to show appreciation for the positive spirits that surround you. Set some sweets on a dish and make a tiny altar for them in your space.

  • Enjoying sweets while doing crafts!
    Enjoy some of that halloween candy for yourself! My favorite treats on this night are chocolate coated donuts, reeses cups, cider sugar donuts, red licorice and apple cider.

  • Watching a spooky or Halloween themed movie
    Or halloween themed film. My favorite will always be the 80s halloween special The Worst Witch with Tim curry. I watch it religiously.

  • Spirit Contact
    I wouldn’t suggest using an Ouija board or doing any communication with spirits if you have never had experience. They can be rude and harass you, YET if you are experienced and know how to guard yourself, then this is a great night to play with an ouija board! (PS I think Ouija Girl has a great informative blog about working with ouija boards. Here is her FAQ page. But still, it’s always better to do work with a medium or someone with experience than trying to figure it out alone).

    A safer experience for someone with no spirit communication experience is attending a seance! In NYC there are a few mediums that hold seances monthly. I love the one at Catland in Brooklyn, the mediums that host the event there are fantastic. It might be hard to attend an authentic one on Halloween night since a lot of people will want to just try to cash in on creating a 'spooky’ experience, but if you really want, try to get in contact with mediums and ask if they host any seance events. Important to know: usually the spirits that chill around you are guides and family and they might have more info to give you then you might be ready for. My first seance I really don’t know what to do with the info given to me but I really hope I make the best of it and don’t mess anything up.

  • Witches Flight
    This is like an extension of the previous point where if you have never done this before just completely disregard this suggestion cause flying is dangerous. For many years witches have flown on Halloween night to other realms using flying ointments.

  • Protective Magic:
    Finally, protect yourself from the high spirit activity with crystals like black tourmaline, obsidian and spirit quartz. Do protective spells for any cats you see or live with especially black cats since they tend to be targets.
      

Midnight Spell:

  • This sabbat honors the natural cycle of death and transformation. Focus on what you want to transform in your life. Magic on this night is very powerful so think about it before hand and make sure it is what you want for if you ask to transform something, you might find a lot of endings that suddenly occur in your life to lead to the transformations that you want. (There was a conversation on here I can no longer find but it was put  really nicely that death is not just some simple 'transformative’ process it can be very drastic, often very uncomfortable and if you are not ready though you ask for something to change, you might not be ready for the new obstacles that will be thrown at you. Just know that you will be ready for what you ask for.)
  • Some spell activities can be shuffling the deck visualizing what you want to change and then finding the death card and seeing the card that follows will be your answer to seek how you can further bring that transformation closer.
  • I’m a mixologist and enjoy working with liquor for rituals. I find fire to be a great transformer yet instead of burning something I prefer blessing a shot of whiskey or absinthe with my intent then taking it like liquid fire to transform me within. If you do not like alcohol or can not drink it for whatever reason you can perform this with hot apple cider instead!



Samhain Day

Wednesday, November 1st 2017

  • Upon the day I like to dress in complete black. My makeup is very dark and I wear long black dresses and veils. Depending on how you want to honor the dead, dress how you wish.

  • Gravesweeping
    Visit your loved ones on this day and leave flowers and gifts on their grave! If you want you can also visit any cemetery, yet make sure to practice good graveyard etiquette. Leave a penny by the gate, do not sit or lean on any tomb stones, of course don’t take anything from a grave. Be respectful of those whom are resting.

  • Close Your Garden
    This is a time to close the garden for the winter to come. Harvest the last fruits and herbs and bring in any delicate potted plants within the home.

  • Shadow Work
    Especially if you are looking to transform some aspect of your life this is a great time to do shadow work and look within if you are creating any obstacles for yourself. Get to know your shadow self, get to solve problems together. This is also an excellent day for divination and scrying.

  • Meditation and Energy Work by the base of a tree
    I love to do energy work on the days of the sabbats yet as the earth grows colder, the roots dig deeper and the world goes into hibernation. Sit at the base of a tree preferably with thick roots and feel it’s connection to the cold earth beneath you. Dig into yourself and see what needs to rest and what needs to be healed.

Evening
Celebratory Feast

  • So in many practices people like to host a dumb supper but instead I like to have a lively feast where everyone will share a story about someone they loved that passed away or a story of an ancestor in their family. At the end of each tale we toast our glasses to them! (And pour a little bit of drink to them or set aside a snack if they are not into alcohol.)

  • Hold a feast of rich comfort foods that are spiced and sweet like sweet potato mash, candied brown beans, pumpkin bread, smokey bourbon pulled pork or maple glazed beef brisket, roasted carrots and beets and (I personally love to make baked mac and cheese but its a fall comfort soul food for me). My Samhain feast is abundant with fall soul foods and sweet roots and spices. (here is a fantasy feast post and my personal feast post from last year)

  • If you are alone (as this is a solitary post), make a few fall dishes you deeply enjoy or cook the favorites of loved relatives that have passed away, eat some sweets and set out some offerings to passed away loved ones.
🌠 GUIDE: Leveling buildings 🌠

Well I finally got the one building I wanted !!  The Calming Detective mansion (man, I love that skit so much), I cannot wait to place it on my NEET Park and start leveling up this thing and getting money from it !!

How do you level up buildings ??  Good question, reader, I guess i’ll use my new mansion to explain you guys how to level up your buildings, as it is very useful !!

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Standing Up For Me Eddie x Reader

Originally posted by teamtozier

Request: eddie imagine where the reader always has acrylic nails and eddies mom is basically like “fake nails means a hoe.” and eddie gets really mad at his mom cause he likes the nails

Author’s note: I hope you like this! This is the first time I’ve written for Eddie so I hope I did it justice. Thanks for the request!


Reader’s pov:

“Can you cover this?” Eddie asked.

Loser was written in black across the cast. He had used a red marker to write a ‘v’ over the ‘s’ but he still hated it.

“Sure. What do you want me to paint?” I asked.

“You can do whatever you want as long as it covers this.” He answered.

Eddie took out a box of paints and paint brushes from the closet. We sat at the kitchen table as I poured a few different colors onto the paper plate.

He sat still, as I painted over Greta’s writing. I dipped the end of the brush into the blue paint, carefully painting the starry night sky. Eddie watched every paint stroke I made. It was incredibly calming for both of us, with that thing in Derry it was hard to relax.

“Eddie, I’m home.” His mother yelled making me jump.

I had never met his mother but I heard a lot about her and it worried me. Eddie was just as nervous as I was about meeting her.

Mrs. Kaspbrak came into the kitchen, setting down the bags on the counter.

“Mom, this is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N this is my mom.” He introduced.

“Oh, I know Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She said, glancing Eddie’s cast. “Get those claws off my son.”

I immediately put my hands under the table, getting uncomfortable. I just wanted her to like me and it was clear she didn’t.

“Mom.” Eddie said, getting upset.

“No Eddie. I don’t want you dating some hootchie mama.” She spat.

“Y/N is not a hootchie mama.” Eddie argued defensively.

“Yes she is. Do you see those things?” She questioned.

“What? Her nails?”

I looked down at my nails, I always had them done. They weren’t natural but the acrylics made me feel beautiful. It was something about having beautifully manicured nails.

They weren’t ridiculously long, it was more for the strength than it was for length. My natural nails constantly broke no matter what I did to prevent it. Acrylics just made my nails look nicer, but now I wanted nothing more than to take them off.

“You’re judging her because of her nails?” He questioned.

“I think I should go.” I said standing up.

“No.”

“Eddie. Don’t you know what kind of girls get their nails done like that?” She asked.

“No, but please enlighten me.” Eddie said.

I could tell he was getting angrier and angrier with every word his mother said.

“Eddie, its fine. Im used to being judged.” I commented.

“Well?”

“Whores! Whores get their nails done like that Eddie!” She spat.

“Y/N is the furthest thing from a whore, maybe if you actually took the time to meet her instead of judging her on how she has her nails, you would know.” He said before taking my hand and walking out.

Mrs. Kaspbrak called after her son but he ignored it. By the end of the argument, Eddie was fuming. We walked for a few minutes in silence, giving him a chance to calm down.

“I’m sorry about her.” He sighed.

“It’s not your fault.”

“She’s still my mother.” He answered. “I don’t care about how you have your nails. As long as they make you happy, thats all I care about.”

“I appreciate you standing up for me Eds.” I said giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t call me that.” He smirked.

“Okay Eds.”

“I can’t believe Richie rubbed off on you.” Eddie said shaking his head.

So I am no longer in charge of Slime, which if you’re not familiar with that story I would get yourself a snack and give it a read because…. it’s long. It’s a long, long saga of slime. Instead, they’re having me do the Saturday morning kids classes. Or rather, they’re continuing to have me do the morning classes because… why train someone else to work with unattended small children when we’ve already broken this one’s spirit? 

And if you were internetting at the same time I was last night, you were probably aware that my girlfriend and I were making friendship bracelets. Which is very cute, but the reason we were doing that was because today I was supposed to teach little kids how to make them. I’d never made one successfully before and the directions were super unhelpful, so she was showing me how. (Well… it’s still pretty stompin’ cute in the context). 

So what I learned last night was that they really are a labor of love because if you tried to sell them at the fair cost of labor, no one would buy it at that price and you really gotta like that person to put in all that work and then give it away for free. 

“Oh, how shall I, a mere child, show the bonds of our unending friendship? I shall develop early stages of carpal tunnel syndrome as a symbol of our platonic love!”

This is a childhood experience that I never had. Ostensibly because I was the crafty person in the school and I had all of two (2) friends and … eh. Eh. It was the 90′s and my homework already resembled a mountain, so… eh. 

Anyhowdy. 

The bracelet that I was supposed to make was a chevron, but it looks more like argyle. Which is a look I dig but I’m mentally preparing dialogue for when someone is upset it doesn’t look like it should.  

There is no way in the squishiest layers of Hell that a four-year old is going to figure out how to make this. I’m 30 and I’m screwing up, so I figure I’ll have a couple of simpler options.  Basically, I would have them braid their colors together and put beads on it. Seems simple, right?

… ha… haha… oh. 

I’m sure that my plan would have potentially worked if there were different circumstances, but here we are… 

I had… no students. 

Until… 

11:45, fifteen minutes before I was meant to close up. And then I had two. Then five. Then seven, nine, ten. As soon as I gave kids instructions to pick out their colors, more would come in. So half the room was bored and waiting for me to start and the other half was spending a lot of time trying to decide which color pink they want. One of them has her arm in a cast. Something wasn’t thought through. 

It is 11:55 when I finally get started. 

“Measure the length from your wrist to your elbow, and then double it.” 

Three adults failed this part. 

“Fold it in half and tie a knot at the top.”

One kid failed this part. 

“Do y’all know how to braid?” A mix of nods and shakes. “Okay, if you know how to braid, go ahead and braid your colors together.”

Three adults failed this part. I had to teach one kid how to braid because his mom refused to show him and eventually just took over herself. None of the parents were willing to help their kids learn, because they insisted that they already knew but clearly did not. I had to teach some of the adults. 

About halfway through this, a kid says “when are we going to make the slime?”

“Slime isn’t until one-o-clock.”

“We thought this was the slime thing.”

How do you get halfway through a friendship braid tutorial and realize that it isn’t slime? Did you think we were going to put it in the slime? Did you think that we were going to dip it in borax and it was going to suddenly be slime somehow? Did you miss the part in the beginning when I said ‘are you here to make friendship bracelets?’ Because I said that to literally everyone that came in through the doors. 

“Okay, now you’re going to put your beads on.” This part they knew how to do. “And when you’re done, you’re going to put a bead over one end and tie a knot around it, then do the same on the other side.”

All of the adults failed this part. 

Around this time, three girls abandoned the craft for their mom to finish in favor of watching whatever mindless children’s entertainment was being played in the baby carriage belonging to a completely different family. So they’ve just left the whole thing to their mother, who is frantically trying to finish because these kids have already learned the age-old art of ‘make someone else do it.’ 

We’re down to seven people and one of the youngest says ‘face painting.’

“The ad said that there’d be face painting.”

“Face painting?”

“FACE PAINTING YAY!”

Suddenly they all want their faces painted. It is 12:25, the class ended 25 minutes ago, I’m supposed to clock out in five minutes, and seven kids are now under the impression that we’re doing face painting. 

“Face painting isn’t until next week. Next week.”

And now… tears. 

The one that brought it up knocked over a bucket of perler beads. The mom is now screaming at her, everyone is upset and I am now ten minutes late to clock out. Some of them are still asking about slime, so now they’re alternating between slime and face painting and the truth is that they want both, but I’m giving them neither and oh man… toddlers are not a pleasant sight when you tell them that they don’t have any choice in the matter. 

They finally figure that the best thing to do is leave, no one is happy, and I’m pretty sure the little one is grounded. 

All of this- all of this

All of this could have been avoided if you’d shown up fifteen minutes later, but sure- Zerg rushing the teacher seems like a way better plan, doesn’t it?

As I am cleaning up the string mess, a line is forming at the door.

“Is this the slime thing?”

“It hasn’t started yet.”

“I’ll wait.” Haha. I’ve played this game. You’ll wait, but you’ll complain to my manager that we made you wait for the event to open before letting you in. 

I finish cleaning up, I get out the door, and the same woman jumps to get into the classroom.

“It doesn’t start until one, ma’am.”

“It said noon!”

“One to three. The event is one til three.”

I know that the color ‘puce’ is hotly contested in terms of it’s actual definition, but her face turned the puciest color I have ever seen. Her son is tugging impatiently at her pant leg. She tells her tiny human that he has to wait longer. 

Haha, don’t care. I’m out, kiddos!

This post is brought to you by Children’s Tears. 

Never Lonely

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Seth Rollins/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirsty Crew! Welcome to another installment of me trying to write ‘Seth Rollins the sympathetic character’ instead of 'Seth Rollins the evil mastermind’! I hope I have done this sweet boy justice. Tagging my broskis @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and the broski among men, @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

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Arrow 6x02 “ Tribute” Review: Case of Been There, Done That

We are two episodes in and we’ve reached our first filler episode. This one was a tad bleh. I wasn’t very whelmed, so to speak. There were some positive parts but they all seemed to be connected to things that I’m not crazy about. Such is Arrow anymore; have to take the bad with the good. For me, this episode was meh because I feel like we have been here before.  

Oliver

He was being a wiseass to the press at the start of the episode. I must say that all the screeners who flipped out over the Bruce Wayne mention really need to get lives. That is not singularly the most shocking, show-changing and whatever hyperbolic bull they espoused over the name drop. I think the most show-changing event in the history of Arrow was bringing on Felicity Smoak. She changed absolutely everything. But that’s just me.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

He’s in a game of cat and mouse with the new character, Agent Watson. (I think the first name was Samanda? But I might be wrong.)  She’s not buying his deflections one bit and is determined to prove he is a vigilante. He’s also in a cat and mouse game with Anatoly—who knows Oliver’s weaknesses and exploits them.

But mostly Oliver’s storyline this episode was wrapped up in William. 

I will be honest that the kid had a couple of improved—not great—scenes in this episode. They also were a bit better in how they wrote him; he wasn’t a sniveling 5 yr old. He was acting like a middle schooler. I still think he’s supposed to be about 10; not 12. But that’s my obsession with timeline accuracy. I’m a stickler for it in my own work so it bugs me when others don’t do the same. :D 

Anyway. 

Oliver + William 

This is still not my favorite storyline. And what’s the point in having a show about Oliver Queen being the Green Arrow if he isn’t the Green Arrow? I’ll forever dislike William simply because I don’t like the storyline that introduced him. It was sloppy and unnecessary and I’m resentful. It spun a lot of things out of control and was one contributing factor into why season 5 was so damn awful. 

But this is where part of my frustration comes in with this episode and storyline choice: This is just the same story we’ve already been through but now it’s under the guise of Oliver being a dad. Oliver can’t be Green Arrow because of X.

In William’s scene where he says, “That’s not up to you,” he was right. And as much as I wish he’d go away, the kid was understandably afraid of being orphaned. Though, I doubt he’d really be alone. I’m not even talking about Oliver’s found family taking in William. Everyone seems to have magically forgotten Samantha’s parents from last week. In all likelihood he’s probably much closer to his grandparents than he is to Oliver right now. He and Oliver have begun tentative steps to building a relationship between them—something I suspect William is hesitant about because he’s afraid to let Oliver in just to lose him. William did just tragically lose his mother. 

The only redeeming part of this repetitive storyline is that it’s hard to blame it on Oliver’s own stubborn stupidity. He’s not choosing the mask over being in a relationship; he’s not questioning his ability to lead in the light and the dark. Oliver clearly was trying to balance life as a mayor, father and vigilante. He’s not the one who couldn’t handle it, but William. 

I can’t even be mad at Oliver for choosing his kid over being a vigilante. That’s not even close to the worse decision he’s ever made. And it’s selfless; an act of true parenthood from him because being the Green Arrow means something to Oliver. It’s an act of redemption for his sins. It’s a point of purpose. But he’s sacrificing that for the benefit of his son. Again, not an ignoble idea.

Except that we all know that he is going to be the Green Arrow again and that’s why it feels tired. The difference is that he’ll likely hood up again with William’s encouragement. But the summary of this story is that once again Oliver believes he has to choose between being the Green Arrow and being Oliver Queen. 

Why does this sound so familiar…? 

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washingtonpost.com
Perspective | I wanted to understand why racists hated me. So I befriended Klansmen.
My collection of robes and hoods is still growing.

By Daryl Davis,  September 29 at 6:00 AM:  Daryl Davis, author of “Klan-Destine Relationships,” and subject of the documentary “Accidental Courtesy,” is an award-winning musician, actor, lecturer and race relations expert.    

“One night in 1983, I found myself playing in a country band at a truck stop lounge. I was the only black person in the joint. Taking a break after the first set of music, I was headed to sit at a table with my bandmates when a white gentleman approached from behind and put his arm around my shoulders. “I really enjoy y’all’s music,” he said. I shook his hand and thanked him. “This is the first time I ever heard a black man play piano like Jerry Lee Lewis,” he continued.

I told him that Lewis was a friend of mine and that he had learned his style from watching and listening to black blues and boogie-woogie pianists. My new fan didn’t buy it, but he did want to buy me a drink. While we sipped, he clinked my glass and said, “This is the first time I ever sat down and had a drink with a black man.”

Why? “I’m a member of the Ku Klux Klan,” he said. I burst out laughing. Then he handed me his KKK membership card, and I recognized the Klan’s symbols. In that moment, I was overcome by a question: How could anybody hate me when they didn’t even know me?

I was no stranger to racism. Having grown up a black person in the ’60s and ’70s, I knew that prejudice was common. But I had never understood why. Sitting in that lounge with my new friend, I decided to figure it out in the only way that made sense: By getting to know those who felt hostility toward black people without ever having known any.

Several years later, I recruited that man, whose name was Frank James, to put me in contact with the grand dragon of the Maryland Klan. He tried to deter me, warning that the leader would kill me. But eventually, after I promised not to reveal how I’d gotten the grand dragon’s contact information, James gave it to me.

By then I had decided to travel around the country and interview KKK leaders and members from various chapters and factions to get the answer to my question: How can you hate someone you’ve never met? I was planning to write a book detailing my interviews, experiences and encounters with these Ku Klux Klan members. (The book, “Klan-Destine Relationships,” was published in 1998.)

I had my white secretary, who typically booked my band and assisted me with my music business, set up a meeting with the Maryland grand dragon, explaining that her boss was writing a book on the Klan and would like his input. Per my instructions, she did not reveal the color of my skin.

The grand dragon agreed to participate, and we secured a room at a Frederck, Maryland motel, where my secretary filled an ice bucket with cans of soda so I could offer my guest a drink. Regardless of how and what he felt about me, if he entered my room after seeing the color of my skin, I was going to treat him with hospitality.

Punctual to the minute, there was a knock on the door. The grand nighthawk (the grand dragon’s bodyguard) entered first, and then the dragon himself. “Hello,” I began, “I’m Daryl Davis.” I offered my palm, and the dragon shook my hand as he and the nighthawk introduced themselves. The dragon sat in the chair I had set out, and the nighthawk stood at attention beside him.

We were both apprehensive of the other, and the interview started haltingly. We discussed what he had hoped to achieve by joining the Klan; what his thoughts were on blacks, Asians, Jews and Hispanics; and whether he thought it would ever be possible for different races to get along. A little while later, we heard an inexplicable crackling noise and we both tensed. The dragon and I stared each other in the eye, silently asking, “What did you just do?” The nighthawk reached for his gun. Nobody spoke. I barely breathed.

Seated atop the dresser, my secretary realized what had happened: The ice in the bucket had started to melt, causing the soda cans to shift. It happened again, and we all began laughing. From there, the interview went on without a hitch.

It was a perfect illustration that ignorance breeds fear and possibly violence. An unknown noise in an ice bucket could’ve led to gunfire, had we not taken a moment to understand what we were encountering.

Even though the grand dragon, who now prefers not to be named, had told me he knew that white people were superior to blacks, our dialogue continued over the years. He would visit me in my home, and I would eventually be a guest in his. We would share many meals together, even though he thought I was inferior. Within a couple of years, he rose to the rank of imperial wizard, the top national leadership position in the Klan.

Over the past 30 years, I have come to know hundreds of white supremacists, from KKK members, neo-Nazis and white nationalists to those who call themselves alt-right. Some were good people with wrong beliefs, and others were bad people hellbent on violence and the destruction of those who were non-Aryan.

There was Bob White, a grand dragon for Maryland who served four years in prison for conspiring to bomb a synagogue in Baltimore, where he had been a police officer. When he got out, he returned to the Klan and later went back to prison for three more years for assaulting two black men with a shotgun, evidently intent on murder. But after I reached out to him with a letter while he was in prison for the second time, Bob became a very good friend, renounced the Klan and attended my wedding.

Imperial Wizard Frank Ancona, who headed one of the largest Klan groups in the country, would also become a very close friend. When Frank was killed this year (his wife and stepson have been charged with his murder), one of his Klan members, knowing how close we had been, called me and told me before notifying the police. I accepted the Klan’s invitation to participate in his funeral service.

Three weeks after this summer’s violent clash in Charlottesville, I was invited by the leaders of the Tennessee and Kentucky chapters of Ancona’s branch of the Klan to speak at their national Konvocation. I accepted, spoke and took audience questions after the lecture. Whether or not anyone there immediately changed their minds, we talked as people — and we all benefitted from that.

I am not so naive as to think everyone will change. There are certainly those who will go to their graves as hateful, violent racists. I never set out certain that I would convert anyone. I just wanted to have a conversation and ask, “How can you hate me when you don’t even know me?” What I’ve learned is that whether or not I’ve changed minds, talking can still relieve tensions. I’ve seen firsthand that when two enemies are talking, they are not fighting. They may be yelling and beating their fists on the table, but at least they are talking. Violence happens only when talking has stopped.

And sometimes, people do change. One day in 1999, after having been in the Ku Klux Klan for about 20 years, the Klan leader from the motel interview, whom I watched go from grand dragon to imperial wizard, called me, said he was leaving the Klan and apologized for having been a member. He told me he could no longer hate people. I had not turned out to be what he had always thought of black people. He went on to become one of my best friends, and today I own his robe and hood — one set of many in my collection of garments donated to me by apostate Klansmen and Klanswomen,

which is always growing.”

just a bet

HEY HI WADDUP

so this is based LOOSELY on will and emma from the scream tv series. if you havent seen it, that doesnt matter bc like…. its not important

ANYWAY

THEY ARE SENIORS IN THIS

THAT MEANS THEY ARE 18!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE DONT ATTACK ME FOR THIS BC THE ACTORS HAVE NO RELATION TO THE CHARACTER IM WRITING K THX

there won’t be nsfw but there are MENTIONS of it sooooo

YEAH

anyway enjoy ily all

summary: beverly bets richie he can’t get with the new kid, eddie, in under three months. richie disagrees

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 1870

Everyone at Derry High School knew of the senior Richie Tozier. No matter who they were, what social group they were apart of, they all knew of the trashmouth. Every girl swooned over him and every gay (and possibly ‘not’ gay) guy would beg for his number. He was the ‘It’ guy in his high school and even the other high schools in the Derry school district. It was common knowledge that Richie was bi. Some people said it was fake and that he said it for more attention, but his real friends knew it wasn’t bullshit at all. 


Richie strode into the school building that Monday morning, casually sliding off his sunglasses and hooking them in his shirt. People in the hallways snuck glances at him, some even saying hello to him politely as he passed. He nodded in response, flashing them a smile. Richie approached his locker and opened it with ease, getting his few textbooks out. Despite being a ‘jock’, he still cared about his grades. 


“Hey, Rich, did you hear about the new kid?” Beverly asked casually, making her presence known. She leaned against the navy blue lockers, a small smile playing on her lips.

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satanslesbianmother  asked:

I am creating a black female character for a story that takes place in an area where...well, she's surrounded by white people who are almost obsessively politically correct, to the point of enforcing "colorblindness." I feel it's important to her character and to authenticity for her to react to her white friends being intimidated around the subject of race, but I don't want to end up writing the white person's "ideal black response" unintentionally. Any pointers?

Black Girl Living in a “Colorblind” Environment

Hey there,

Wooow, that’s like my entire life over here. Yes, I do have some pointers, but they’ll mostly just be my thoughts and experiences. Not everyone will have the same reactions as I do, but I hope this will help.

Internalized Racism

So I’ll just start by saying this is the perfect breeding ground for internalized racism. It is an everyday thing so subtle, so normalized absolutely every time, that the racism is hardly ever recognized for what it is. If your character is somewhat like me or people I know, they will struggle with the urge to not stand out, try to assimilate into the dominant culture or distance themselves from their culture(s) at the expense of their own identity, feeling the need to compensate and deflect stereotypes. They’ll be gaslit left and right, and replying with anything other than silence or agreement will most of the time start discussions or fights. They might at times feel like they’re living a lie, feel out of place and start questioning themselves. There’s more but you get the gist of it.

Reactions to Environment

Now most reactions will come down to: 

1) completely rejecting the white people and their culture,

2) trying to become like the white people and take on their views, 

3) or social withdrawal. 

What they all have in common is A LOT of unease surrounding your roots, your race and expressing your true self. 

Daily Struggles

There will be a lot of tension and anxiety when matters of race surface, even when they don’t end up mentioned or discussed. Feeling like you don’t belong, that you’ll only be accepted as long as you keep your mouth shut about racism.

Feeling unsafe comes to mind. I imagine your character desperately searching for people who might be different, looking for friends of color online, trying to make sense of their experiences by searching online, that sort of thing. If they do try to express themselves it’s because that person gives them the feeling that they just might be a bit more understanding than others and might get into discussions desperately trying for them to understand them. I imagine them not wanting to be seen as a stereotype while not wanting their race/roots/ethnicity pushed aside. High chances they will be passive aggressive about it because they lack any other meaningful way to express themselves. 

Of course there will be Black and brown people who’re content with assimilating into a culture like this. Good for them. But plenty of people also force themselves to believe that in order to survive. 

That’s what most of it comes down to. Surviving an environment that’s hostile towards you while it masquerades as your dear friend. 

~ Mod Alice

Daily Struggles - Racism & Racial Tension

In middle school, I had this friend. I was telling her a story involving someone else when she asked a strangely-worded question. 

“Did she look like you or me?” 

I was all “huh” until she pointed to my arm, my skin.

“Like you…” She said, then pointed to her own arm. “Or like me?”

I instantly fed off of the race-is-scary vibe and just muttered “Oh, like you…”

I grew up in a slightly less intense version of Alice’s environment, and my experience was passive-aggressive racism (micro-aggressions) with both the micro-aggressions and aggressive racism brushed over and kept low key. (That lady moved her purse when you walked by because she thinks you’ll steal it? Nah, she just needed it to warm her lap!)

I rarely felt the heat of racism. It wasn’t as blatant. Still, it happened in pockets.

Daily “racial tension” would be stares in public because seeing a Black person in the supermarket was a marvel. At school and other frequented places, well, they get used to you, so unless you’re the very new kid, it’s not likely she’d be made awkward on the day-to-day for existing (At least not until slavery is discussed and everyone is turning their heads to stare at her..).

Colorblind Environment and Balancing Culture

Alice hit the main points. Some reject the dominant culture, some embrace it (and may even allow and make race jokes at their own expense to cope) and some withdraw completely. I don’t think anyone fits into any neat category. 

Consider that your character may fall on a scale of embracing her situation, and rejecting some aspects. No one person is the same. 

I think background and home life will affect how she copes in this environment. I moved into my super-white town at a pretty young age, prior to that growing up in a culturally-diverse city and had sisters who did as well. We were able to embrace our culture at home among each other and other family even if that openness could not be experienced with most people in the neighborhood. If I’d been older before I moved, I probably wouldn’t have given a damn a bit more, or rejected more of the environment’s culture, but hey. 

Either way, it’s very possible for her to blend and embrace more than one culture. But how one embraces or how much, depends on the person.

Now, embracing different culture depending on the environment and code-switching doesn’t mean you’re at a cultural crisis or both sides cannot co-exist. For example, while I was made awkward about race in one experience, around that same age and time, I brought a bigger celebration of Black History Month to that same school by approaching administration on the severe lack of it. With permission and the help of friends, we made posters and announcements celebrating prominent Black leaders and inventors. That would not have happened if I didn’t have cultural pride being nourished elsewhere.

In Short

With maturity, self-realization, getting away from that environment and/or connecting with a knowledgeable and accepting group of people comes accepting what living in the dominant culture has made you, and hopefully embracing and not losing the culture you might’ve experienced without its influence.

As always, we’d also recommend having appropriate beta-readers take a look at your story for sensitivity and accuracy.

~Mod Colette

P.S. Based on some responses defending colorblindness as a good thing, which it’s not and is in fact racist (!) I would urge you to research the harms of the colorblind approach and learn of the huge disservice it is to People of Color to ignore the beauty that is diversity and in recognizing cultural differences.

PSA: “Seeing color” isn’t the same as “judging color.” 

Won’t dwell on it here. I do want to quote mod Brei from a different ask

Colorblindness is an act of racism by denying to acknowledge differences. I mean, no one ever says “I don’t see gender” so why apply such ignorance to race?

Fic: Happy Birthday, Naruto

Word Count: Ion’t know | Genre: Real ass shit | Relationship: M/M | Warning: Unsafe for the eyes of those sensitive to real ass shit

A/N: A gift for Naruto, the birthday boy. SNS. 

— 

Overhead, fluttering under the bright rays of a radiant sun, a carrier pigeon delivered a scroll.

‘Hinata baked a birthday cake for me, but I just wanna get my 10 inch candle deep up in your cakes and fill you with my custard cannon baby. Use Water Release: Fleet no Jutsu before I arrive so I can eat a lil dessert with my present too. 😩💦💦💦👅🍅’

Sasuke rolled his eyes, scoffing at the lowly vulgarity. It wouldn’t be long before Naruto descended on him now. Subtlety didn’t exist in his dictionary.

A rendezvous in the Hokage’s mansion; that plan Naruto concocted when he swept Sasuke off his feet, ignorant of any passive protest, would end in his well-deserved favor. The fourteen missed calls from Hinata, the read receipt attached to the text prying into his whereabouts (Read: 3 hours ago), and the unsigned marriage annulment documents crumpled within Sasuke’s pocket fazed not a nerve-ending in his body. Naruto left all those obstructions to the birds as he hastily stabbed at the touchscreen of his phone, ‘I’m at Sasuke house playing the game like fr my dick gone get skid marks the way you riding it so hard 💀💀💀😂🔥🔥😂🔍🔍🔥😤😴,’ in an evasive maneuver that freed him from the all-too-tight chains of banal concepts such as personal responsibility.

Inhaling that fresh air of freedom, Naruto’s atoms dispersed in a vibrant beacon of light before flashing back together at his destination with his lover in his arms. Agreeable, subdued to no one’s path but one where they could be together, just like Naruto, and the Uchiha’s wife, expected him to be. In Naruto’s case, it was more akin to a demand than a expectation. A demand not expressed with teary eyes, passive threats one was too weak to act upon, and appeals to a romance one felt entitled to, but expressed with the promise of being saved by the threat of fists. The specter of breaking the other’s bones to drag him back home to complete his triad of emotional receptacles: the village, his aspiring monarchy, and a certain Uchiha’s acknowledgement. With a smile on his face and only the purest intentions lacing his heartstrings, Naruto refused to tolerate anything less from his most prized bond.

It elated Naruto to know Sasuke made not just the right choice, but the only choice.

Encased beneath a hurricane crashing in the violent waves of passion, Naruto found solace in nothing short of devouring the decadence of the Uchiha’s body like the sweetest confection. Eliciting sounds from Sasuke that not even his wife was privy to, committing the rich palate of his flesh to his tongue’s memory, and claiming every corner and curve his hands traversed as rightfully his own.

Said hand, an eager one, slid beneath the now disheveled hem of Sasuke’s shirt to trace the attractive grooves that shaped his lower abdomen and advertised a sharp pathway toward what begged for Naruto’s attention.

“M'gonna get in them guts and bust down your walls like the Kyuubi at the Konoha gates,” was the rasp that accompanied Naruto’s hand tugging down those pants, slipping his palm inside Sasuke’s underwear without shame, to reveal…

A glock.

The heater, the burner, he was strapped with that draco.

Naruto froze.

“Happy Birthday, Naruto.”

Sasuke Uchiha, his lover, pistol whipped him in the heat of passion.

“The only walls you’re busting down are the ones to my reparations fund. You don’t want this work.”

Naruto, for once in all of his days…

Couldn’t believe it.

“Wh-”

“You beat me down, begged me to return to this putrid country, and fraternize with the very elders who subjugated my family and ripped them away from me. The vermin who caused my defection in the first place drink tea with you, unsweetened at that. This ‘peace’ you professed to me was nothing but a farce to lure me here, and I won’t hesitate to bust a cap in your dome, your scalp, your cranium.”

Naruto’s eyes widened. Shock washed over his features like a tidal wave.

“B-B-But ya gotta understand the Leaf’s mistakes were-”

“Genocide and tyranny are not mistakes, braindead idiot,” he presses the barrel to Naruto’s forehead.

“Can we talk about this?”

“No. Deliver my reparations in monthly direct deposits or I will never let you snort lines of coke off my ass again.”

Now it was Naruto’s turn to fall silent. He never imagined Sasuke…didn’t need his saving.

“I’m sick of being the neighborhood’s emotional vessel, doling out validation by the demands of my so-called friends. Your parasitic acknowledgement, Sakura’s narcissistic love, Kakashi’s bruised sense of being a failed sensei who, in a brazen show of hypocrisy, disregarded my rightful goal when I was vulnerable and trusted him.”

“Wait-”

“Shut up, usuratonkachi. It would behoove you to know: your dick game’s wack and your stroke is trash.”

Sasuke may or may not have been lying, but today is the day he rescinds that oh so coveted acknowledgement at all costs. Despite that, the color sapped from Naruto’s face at the blow to his strengths. There was no way his dick game was wack…

“You’re going to catch this bullet precisely where you catch my nut every night. In the eye.”

He cocks, the glock, the burner, the draco…

Naruto pauses, takes Sasuke by the wrist, gently.

“Wells Fargo or Bank of Konoha?”

“Neither. I’m with a credit union in the Sound Village. Write the reparations check for it there or I’ll make you spew the flames of Amaterasu straight from your asshole.”

Sasuke didn’t bother with his blabbering, his excuses. He had to pay the elders a visit now. Turning on his heel, he breezes past Naruto and begins to take his grand exit from the country yet again.

“Then…if you planned to leave me. Who were you getting thick for all this time?”

A low chuckle leaves Sasuke and he flashes his smirk over his shoulder.

“The Revolution.”

~ FIN

let’s just talk for a moment here. 

I’m gonna say itLena Luthor loves Kara Danvers. loves her. and there are soooo many reasons why. 

first, let’s just list the reasons off the bat, then I’ll explain my reasonings. 

  • donuts
  • lip bites/glances/looks
  • the thirst factor
  • food dates
  • meeting Alex
  • gala
  • flowers
  • her heroics
  • “I’ve never stood behind a man” 
  • “I’m here for you, if you still want that”
  • “I miss you”
  • “I didn’t see your name on the by line”/ “unquit”
  • “I trust you”/Catco
  • heart emoji

ok let’s get started:

first, the doughnuts.

 lena is known for eating healthy. she drinks kombucha. she gets kara to probably eat vegetables. y’know the regular. probably is on a no carb diet. we never see her eating anything bad, because she’s probably been preened all her life to be picture perfect and eat only what’s good for you. but here comes her bff, her gal pal kara danvers, traipsing in with a bag of doughnuts. this happened a couple times, actually. lena indulged in a doughnut for kara. 

the lip bites, holy fuck. I’m going to tie this in with the glances too. because holy mother of god. 

lena is always checking kara out, biting her lip (most likely surprising moans bc hot damn she’s in love with this woman) and the looks. the looks of. pure. unadulterated. love. 

I mean you cannot tell me the look on lena’s face is anything but love? come on. even a blind man could tell. 

next, lena’s thirst factor. 

girl, she is always, always, (almost) always seen with a drink when around kara! 

exhibit A: their first meeting, lena has to pause and get herself a damn glass of water

exhibit B: granted, yes they’re at a restaurant, but lena’s got an almost empty glass, bc hot damnvers kara is something. (lets take in account that kara’s glass is empty)

exhibit C: in the most recent episode 3.01, lena is yet again, shown pouring herself some water bc girl is thirsty af 

exhibit D: oh looky here, Lena’s getting a drink. I am pretty sure Kara just makes her speechless and she needs water to talk

exhibit E: y’all see where I’m going with this, right?

their brunch/lunch/dinner/kombucha dates

lena always seems to have a food date with kara. always. I mean it’s one thing to have one on occasion but they’re known to have these? and I know damn well that kara isn’t always the one to initiate them. lena is probably the one to invite her because she’s rich and offers to feed kara’s immense appetite. 

what about the first time lena was introduced to Alex properly?

this. this is the face of jealousy. she shows up unannounced at kara’s apartment (where’d she even get kara’s address?) and sees this beautiful woman in kara’s apartment and she’s jealous af, and Alex doesn’t let on anything. doesn’t, for a split second, let on that she’s kara’s sister, because I’m pretty sure she knew what Lena’s thoughts were. she knew for a flash of a second, lena was actually jealous, but ew gross, kara is her sister, and that’s when kara finally speaks up, and Lena’s face softens, and she remembers what she actually came over for… 

the gala

she invites, not only kara and supergirl to the gala, but kara’s man friend, mike of the interns, because she doesn’t care. if kara’s friends with this person, she figures she can trust this person too, who tf cares if you met them five seconds ago and could’ve easily told him “It’s an elite party, and I’m inviting kara as my plus one, sorry” but no, she extends an invitation to mike of the interns…

the flowers: plumerias

these are plumerias, for anyone who hasn’t seen them before. they come in all different colors, ranging from blues, pinks, purples, melon, peach, yellow and white. they are an exotic flower, and a bit hard to come by. they have to be imported, usually from Hawaii. they have a few different meanings, but in Chinese, they symbolize love. they mean “I love you” and “you are special” 

and kara’s office, just so happens to be overflown with flowers, most likely plumerias because she mentioned they remind her of her mother, and lena would totally import those flowers and fill her office as a thank you to saving her just because she loves kara. and you know damn well she knows what those flowers mean. she’s smart, we’ll touch on this fact later.

lena being a hero

she is.. its a fact. whether it’s supergirl or kara danvers’s hero, national city’s hero, or anyone’s hero, lena is a hero. 

lena chooses kara and being the hero and will always choose kara and being the hero. when it came to saving jack or saving supergirl, she chose kara over her ex-lover. and we can probably assume that because a) lena is young and b) lena is a luthor, jack was probably her only real relationship. she did love him, you could tell with the emotion from the kiss and even the relaxed-ness of her date with him, they were friends. and she did miss is company, though she wouldn’t date him again. yet then it comes to kara, as supergirl, and she has to choose whether to save jack or end his life to save national city’s hero. she chooses to let jack go, therefore ultimately killing him so she can save kara. she also saves kara’s man child boyfriend from the evil daxamite guard. by shooting him with an alien gun. and she and Winn made whatever that thing was under the table at the gala and it stopped those evildoers from attacking supergirl, and the kicker, my favorite, saving the whole population of national city, not once, but fucking twice.

in s2e8 lena, after finding out her mother is the ringleader of CADMUS, and kara ultimately yells at her and accuses her of knowing what her mother did, etc, still saves national city. she undermines her mother, weasels her way onto her mother’s good side, double-crosses her and makes the medusa virus inert, therefore saving national city’s population of aliens when the only friend she had hated her for the moment. she could’ve easily just given in and killed all the aliens, but she didn’t. she chose to save them because she loves kara and her pro-alien bleeding heart views, even when they sometimes disagree and fight. 

and then again in s2e22, lena, and with the help of Lillian, build a device to rid the planet of the daxamites invading earth. a device that sends out lead into the atmosphere. and she knows what it’ll do. she knows that it’s going to send Mon-el away, and you know she was lowkey happy about that, but she knows it’ll put kara through hell, yet she let’s kara make the ultimate decision to choose whether to go on with it, and kara does. supergirl tells them to use the device. and lena yet again, saves everyone, all because she loves kara and kara is her hero.

and let’s not forget the best time lena was a hero and shot Corbin, therefore saving none other than Special Agent Alex Danvers with the DEO… hot damn, she’s my hero.

lena’s never stood behind a man

*eh hem* I’ll just leave these here. two examples of lena never standing behind a man, because she’s independent and fierce, but Kara is always protecting her and she lets kara/supergirl. we know damn well lena can hold her own, she is a Luthor after all, but she lets kara take the forefront and she stands behind her with grace and poise and love and admiration. 

“I’m here for you, if you still want that”

Lena knows the hell kara is going through. she knows that kara lost her man child thing of a boyfriend she liked for five days. and kara is going through hell. and yet, she’s still cautious. I think this is one of the most significant things ever and we’re going to dissect for a second here. in the second image: kara tells lena “I’m right here” letting lena know she can talk to her and she wants her to, she’s almost willing her to. 

yet in the top image, lena adds the “if you still want that”. she is letting kara know a few things here. a) that she feels guilty over the lead being released in the atmosphere b) she doesn’t want to use kara, because she’s not a talker herself. her walls are always built up so sturdy until kara breaks them down with her super strength and c) she doesn’t want to lose kara. she’s letting her know she’s there if kara wants her because its kara’s choice. she’s not going to force kara into being her friend just because kara is the only friend she has in national city and she will be ready to help kara any way she needs when the time comes. 

“I miss you” 

this also follows with the “if you still want that” because she’s telling kara that she’s being ignored, but she’s not pushing. she knows that kara is distancing herself. but she still lets kara know in a subtle way that she’s still here, she still loves her and that she truly misses her best friend. she just misses her. she misses Kara Danvers, the girl she’s falling in love with more and more as each day passes.

“I didn’t see your name on the by line”/”unquit”

now, first off, kara does anything lena suggests. Lena suggests, she become a reporter and guess who becomes one? Kara. lena tells her in such an unprofessional manner to “unquit” her job. and according to my laptop, unquit isn’t even a word, yet it came out of poised, perfect, prestined Lena Luthor’s mouth. “unquit” 

so kara unquits, and lena sends a heart emoji

a red heart emoji. man, do I have some words about this. Lena, you little lesbian in love with your bestie, damn. lena could’ve easily replied back with a “okay” or “sounds great” or even a “see you tomorrow!” or if we’re going the emoji route: a smiley face, a thumbs up, or fuck idk, a yellow heart? because lena is very, very, very smart. and we all know she knows the meanings that colors represent. like how yellow means happiness, friendship, sunshine, and energy, yet miss luthor sent kara a red heart. red meaning love, passion, heat. you can’t tell me she doesn’t know what they meant. she could’ve replied with so many different ways, yet she chooses a red heart.

and lets not forget the last points: lena buys fricken catco–– “I trust you”

lena “I bought your job for you and I have no fucking idea how to run catco” luthor bought a multimillion dollar corporation so a sexist bottle of cheap cologne couldn’t and she has literally no idea how to run the company, yet she’s enlisting and trusting her best friend and the woman she likes to run it with her. she bought kara a company. because kara asked and she 

lena just dropped everything, and potentially could ruin her career for this woman, and she did it all out of love. 

she even admits to not even knowing how to run the place! yet, just because kara asked, she did it. kara says “jump” and lena asks “how high”. the girl will do anything for the woman she loves. 


anyway, so those are my thoughts and reasonings as to why I believe lena is in love with kara. you can agree or disagree, leave your opinions if you like, but if you’re anti-supercorp please do not leave your opinion. 


*please note: gifs and pictures are NOT mine and I will not take credit for them, I simply borrowed them from the internet. also I stg if the gifs don’t load I will cry, I don’t know if they actually will, let’s hope.

edit: none of the gifs loaded I hate everything… oh fucking well, you get my point and y’all probably know what each gif is a scene of anyway… fml

Bruise [ VIII ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst [M]

Length: 6k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, but that couldn’t stop your heart from believing otherwise.

Bruise Masterlist

Originally posted by missmanfreda

The jacket around your chest felt too loose, cheeks puffy as the cool air nipped at them while you shuffle your feet against the damp pavement. The snow had melted but the low temperature had stayed, the ground covered by thin patches of ice. It was far too late out to be alone in front of the convenience store, but the buzzing of your phone fifteen minutes before hand had been enough to drag you outside at the hour. You’d wanted to see Chanyeol for days,  the both of you so busy you still hadn’t gotten a chance to see eachother more than a few minutes for an entire week. You’d been trying to focus on the overwhelming amount of coursework professors were dumping on you, while Chanyeol was having a busy time at the studio; at least that’s what he said.

Keep reading

A voice told him where to go, and he went.

Maybe there was a time when the word of a disembodied voice would not have been enough. He doesn’t remember it. He doesn’t remember a lot of things. He remembers a lot of things. He remembers the wrong things.

He is slow. Maybe he wasn’t always slow, but he is slow now. There is no straight line between points. He considers every tree and every flower. He picks apples and catches lizards. He stares at the sky, and chases the stars.

He doesn’t speak much. He’s told he never did. He wonders if it was then what it is now, the way the words taste wrong and never fit on his tongue. Hylian and Hylian and Hylian but it never sounds right to the points of his ears. His first language is foreign and his accent is nowhere. He doesn’t sound like a hero. He doesn’t know what he sounds like, but he knows he doesn’t like it. It grates the way any wrong thing grates. He says nothing, and no one seems to mind.

He catches beetles, and stops to take pictures of fish.

In the burnt husk of a home, he finds a rusted shield. It didn’t do them much good, whoever they had been. He finds them all over, these floors without ceilings, these roofs without walls. He wonders, always: have I been here before? Did I know them, once? This house on the mountain, this cabin in the woods, would they have recognized me? Was this a name that fit on my tongue?

He learns to bake a cake, breaks rock salt and rubies from veins of ore in the earth.

He moves the sails of a raft with a Korok leaf, and he thinks: this should be easier. He wills the wind to move, but there is nothing. He looks out at the ocean and thinks: what might we find there? His raft is dead wood. He is alone.

He catches fairies in his hands, pink light and warmth and a faint ringing in his skin. They never complain. They never speak. He opens his hands to let them go, and they are the wrong color. The Great Fairy laughs, and it’s so much prettier than it used to be. Than it never was. He rolls glass bottles in his hands, but he doesn’t take them with him.

There is something restful in this. He can’t explain it, even if he had words to try. In his long slumber something inside him came unmoored, and he knows things he must not. He is tired. He knows this most of all. There is work to be done. There has always been work to be done.

He lights a fire, roasts a fish, picks at the flaky meat while it’s still hot enough to burn his fingertips.

He thinks of a sister he never had. He thinks of a grandmother he never had. Did he know his grandmother? In the Lost Woods he stares at the Deku Tree, and knows this is not home. There is a green-haired girl on the backs of his eyelids, and she sounds like three notes repeating.

He finds an ocarina made of wood, and runs his fingers over the holes. Three notes, repeating. He plays them, and nothing happens. He checks the shape of the moon and his reflection in the water. He plays three notes, different this time. There is nothing but an ache.

It sounds more like his voice than his voice ever did, and that hurts worse than silence.

He tries to remember Mipha. He wants to remember her most of all. They were friends, he is told. Close, he is told. He has nothing but fragments and a shirt that fits too well. When he tries to remember, he sees blue scales instead of red.

Zelda is Zelda is Zelda. She is the reference point around which the world turns. She is always Zelda, even when she isn’t. Her face is always her face. He is grateful and resentful in turns. There are so many people he would remember, if he could. Instead there is Zelda.

Ganon is not Ganon is not Ganon. He doesn’t know if Ganon has a face. He’s had so many faces. Was this ever a man, this manifestation of malice? He remembers eyes of gold, he remembers snouts. He recognizes the smell of him in burnt cloves and blood.

Fear is red lights and a blue glow. He knows these things were hope, once. He can’t remember it. He can’t remember seeing six metal legs and believing they would save him. Did he always know that it was helpless? It feels like he should have known.

The words are different, but the meaning is the same. He is procrastinating. If he needed an excuse, he would call it training. He would say they need every advantage. He would say they will only have one chance. No one asks for excuses. He says nothing.

Zelda has waited a hundred years. She waits, still.

She remembers a boy who never rushed her. She remembers, the way he does not, his silent patience while she found herself. While she took too long to find herself. She will wait for him to find himself, even if he takes too long. They may doom the world with their patience, but does the world not owe them this? There are so many worlds, and so few of them are kind. What could this world have been, if it had been kind? What might she have saved if it had not demanded saving?

She did not save the world. She will not save the world. She saved a single point of kindness who did not ask it from her. She will not ask it from him, but he may save her all the same. He is courageous. He is kind. Please, be careful.

He catches Koroks in durian trees, and chases dragons through canyons.

He jumps off a cliff to land in a stable, and no one there sees the hero he should be. He is no one, he is nothing. He is halfway to a beast, but they’re grateful for his help, when he offers it. He always offers it. He doesn’t know how not to.

His hands are calloused. Sometimes they bleed. He ties up his hair every morning, and does not stop. Swords fit so neatly in his hand. Sometimes he uses them to light fires or carve birds. It’s just easier. A sword is all he knows. He’s trying to be more. This might be beyond him.

Sometimes he growls when he’s angry. Sometimes he rips things apart with his teeth. Sometimes dogs follow him, but sometimes they whine. The shadows aren’t always unfriendly, and he feels them like fingers in his hair. There are eyes like fire in the mirrors at night, but he can only see them in the corners of his eyes.

The first time the Gerudo catch him, it was because he tried to scale their walls. Why did he think that would work? Urbosa would laugh if she knew.

He catches horses, but they’re never the right one. The hooves are wrong, the gait is wrong. They are never a part of him, an extension of his own legs. He rides across fields and they hesitate the way she never did. He whistles three notes, sometimes, but it never works.

He finds it, eventually. The place the voice told him about. Walls without a roof. Has he been here before? Surely he has. It’s night when he arrives. His footsteps make no sound. This is how he navigates the world, now, quiet as the sky. It’s easier this way. He kneels down to catch the latch on the chest, and when it opens, he cannot breathe.

He stares at it for a long time.

The moon is only the moon. His skin is still his own. Eventually, he breathes again.

He almost laughs.

He slides the mask onto his face.

know it all — p.p.

summary : may parker can’t fathom that you and her nephew aren’t dating yet- she can’t wait forever, you know, and she knows it’s going to happen eventually. when has may ever been wrong?

word count : 3k

author’s note : long time no see?? LOL sophomore year is successfully kicking my ass but i wrote this and it’s semi long so?? 

   May Parker prides herself on a lot of things- namely, her stunning resilience in the face of immense adversity, and the way she just seems to know things. She can’t help it, it’s her not so lame superpower and she uses it on Peter all the time, much to his annoyance. She earns a roll of the eyes whenever she says something out of the blue, so profound Peter can’t help but contemplate its credibility for the hours that follow their interactions. She knows things, she does, and she knows that you and her nephew are as meant to be as her and Ben were- are, she chastises herself sometimes- and she knows it so truly in the deepest recesses of her heart that the fact that you and Peter aren’t together is something that goes right over her head. 

   “Peter, hon, when’s your girl coming over? I miss having other ladies in the house,” she says one day, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the pair  as Peter recited the periodic table of elements so naturally in his head in preparation for a quiz the following day. Peter loses track somewhere between lithium and beryllium or maybe it was phosphorus, he doesn’t know anymore, when he hears May call you that, his girl, and he shakes his head at her wildly. “What? What’d I say?” May points her wooden spoon at him, and Peter’s reminded that she’s Italian for the fifth time that day. 

   “May, she’s not- she’s not my, like, girlfriend,” he stresses each syllable the word carries, practically throwing his pencil across the table when he turns his chair to get a better view of his aunt as she prepares dinner- pasta, again, because she claims it’s the only thing she can’t possibly mess up. “You know that! Y/N’s been my best friend forever.” 

    “You realize you can be best friends with your girlfriend, don’t you?” Peter can sense May’s eyes rolling even though he can’t see her since she’s facing the stove with her back turned. “You two have definitely kissed. You can’t tell me you haven’t.” 

    Peter’s entire face feels hot when she says that, his hands clammy when he presses them together against his cheeks, placing his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “That’s embarrassing, May. Why would you ever ask me that?” He runs his hands through his hair and the gel is so terribly packed on it that the carefully prepared hairstyle comes undone with one swift movement. “We haven’t, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are because you’re nosy.” Peter feels the spoon lightly poke into his back, a playful warning. 

   “Anyways,” May continues loudly, “as I was saying before, your girlfriend should come over for dinner sometime this week. I’m making pasta.” She grins before placing a bowl of penne in front of Peter, his least favorite pasta shape. Peter scowls at the penne but picks up his fork anyway and shoves some in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before giving May a thumbs up. At least she was proud of it. “I won’t make penne if you get her to come over.” 

    She knows she’s got him when she sees the slow, unsure nod start. He sticks his hand out, and May shakes it happily. “Only because of the penne. I want bowties. Please,” he gives his aunt his best, brightest, sweetest smile he can form, much like the ones that come so naturally when he turns his gaze to look at you- but May won’t bring that up just yet. “And don’t make girlfriend jokes in front of her.” His utensil stabs into the pasta as he thinks to himself, ‘cause if you keep it up in front of her, she’ll think I’m a weirdo and I’ll never genuinely get to call Y/N that, ever. Honestly, he’d much rather launch himself headfirst off of the Empire State Building than never get to experience kissing you, holding your hand, being with you in all those sorts of hopelessly romantic ways that he daydreams about regularly. He’s doing it again, slipping into that endless reverie he always seems to find himself lost in. But it’s okay. His mind is a chasm of soft loves and sweet words shared between the two of you. It’s a beautiful, long mess of a dream. 

   “You lost, Pete?” May snaps her fingers in front of his face, bemused. 

    “A little,” he sighs in that dreamy tone she recalls her own self indulging in so fondly in her younger years. His gaze becomes hazy again, like he’s on another plane entirely, but she lets him be. For now. 


    Peter knows he’s dressing up a little too much for just a friend. He’s spraying too much strong cologne and gelling his hair excessively and praying you won’t notice the fact that it’ll be dryer than the leaves in the wintertime, but it’s all too much for someone he insists is his best friend and his best friend alone, nothing more and nothing less, certainly not his girlfriend. Never that, right? Peter frowns at his reflection and tilts his head down, rubbing his head in attempt to remove most of the gel that had been a serious mistake in the first place. You preferred his hair curly, anyway. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He puts on the sweater that you once said looked lovely on him and he wears his nice jeans, the ones without that stupid hole near the butt cheek that you can’t really see unless you’re trying

   His cheeks flush when May gives a tiny, satisfied smirk upon seeing his perfectly put together outfit. He acts as if no time at all was spent on his appearance, but she knows him, like she knows everything else, and she knows that he’s been holed up in the bathroom for over twenty minutes now trying to see which shirt matched his eyes best and debating the chances of you realizing that this was the sweater you liked the most on him before he put it on and beamed at himself in the mirror. Maybe it was the color or the stitching or the fabric but he was starting to like this one much more, too. 

   “You look very handsome, sweets,” May says to him, squeezing his shoulder as she brushes past him to place a salad on the table. Peter surveys the salad with a strange look on his face. 

   “Why’d you make a salad? Since when does Y/N eat salad?” He raises his eyebrows at her, before adding with haste, “not that I don’t love your salad, Aunt May, ‘cause I do. I promise.”  

   Aunt May places her hands on her hips, peering at him through the tops of her glasses in a way that makes her look too wise for someone as young as she was. “I’m making a good impression, obviously.” 

   “You’ve known her for like ten years now, the time for good impressions is over, May. You missed your chance.”

   “This is the first time I’m seeing Y/N as your girlfriend, though!” Peter lets out the loudest groan imaginable, running his hands over his cheeks and slapping his forehead with great vexation. 

   “Still not my girlfriend,” he insists on insisting, taking the extra plates out of her busy hands and helping to set the small kitchen table. 

   May smooths back a loose strand of hair from his forehead with a kind, teasing grin on her face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her to be, kiddo.” 

   He can’t possibly argue with that sort of logic, especially not when his aunt hits the nail right on the head in that peculiar way she has a habit of doing, so he just smiles and kisses May on the cheek. There’s a knock on the door less than a second later, and the pair scramble for the upper hand before Peter beats her to it and nearly flies to grab the handle of it and yank it open so he can greet you accordingly, slightly out of breath with his hair flopping to one quite nicely and a joyous smile making its way across his mouth when he sees you for the first time that day. May hovers earnestly behind him, hands fluttering over her nephew’s shoulders so she can push past him to wrap you in a hug if need be. Sometimes Peter has the impression that May adores you even more than he does; he wasn’t sure if he should be glad for that, or a bit offended that you seemed to return the blatant favoritism with ardency. 

   There was a brief second where your eyes raked over your best friend’s face with soft admiration, hidden as carefully as you could manage. When you met his appreciative gaze you felt the palms of your hands clam up and so you cast your look back to his aunt and playfully pushed past him to give her a hug. 

   Peter, offense overriding his previously somewhat moonstruck expression, backed away from you when you finally turned toward him with your arms outstretched. “Oh, now I get a hug? Interesting,” he rolls his eyes in a teasing manner, unable and unwilling to conceal his little, loving smile that appeared when you pried his arms off his chest and defiantly wrapped them around yourself as you hugged him. “Didn’t seem so interested in hugging me when you were shoving me away to get to May,” he says, craning his neck to stare at you whilst continuing to drag the embrace out for as long as possible. 

   “You’re still my favorite Parker,” you reply, poking his chest lightly. Then you turn away before you can say anything else that could be considered too revealing of certain, carefully concealed feelings that had the possibility of being detrimental to a beautiful friendship that had manifested over the years into something more, but not quite, not yet. “Sort of,” you put as an afterthought, lest he get any ideas about you feeling… something for him. “Anyways, what’s for dinner, May?” You anticipate pasta, and when May announces the dish with a great flourishing of her hand, you grin. Typical, yes, but nothing if not welcomed. 

  Peter, gentleman that he is, pulls out your chair for you, and you let yourself imagine that he’s doing it as a chivalrous boyfriend and not simply a polite friend. He imagines the same, though. Imagines that he’s on a date with you and he pulls out your chair and smiles kindly and lovingly- and he basks in this image for as long as he can. May calls you over then, and the daydream is shattered. You make your way over to her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

   May lowers her voice before speaking, “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to explain something to me,” she starts. You nod, raising your eyebrows at her. “Explain why you and Peter aren’t together yet. Honestly, honey, I just can’t understand it.” She talks with her hands the way Peter does. 

   “Uh- what? I, um, I don’t… understand?” Your voice cracks a little, as if having May practically shove your less than friendly feelings for Peter back in your face wasn’t embarrassing enough. “We’re, um, you know, like, friends.” 

   Her hand waves dismissively, pushing that sentence away. “No, no, see that’s what he said, too! I have to disagree. I know everything, kiddo, and I know that you two are going to make it as a couple, so if that’s what your afraid of, don’t be. Go for it. I see the same thing in him that I see in you right now, and that thing is love. So, I’m going to need you to go make my nephew the happiest kid on Earth and tell him you’re falling in love with him, and you’ll see that he’s going to say the same thing to you. Trust me. Aunt May knows all,” she shrugs in a casual manner, brushing her confidence off, before she steers you around and gently pushes you back toward the tiny dining room table where Peter sits awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs with his lip caught between his teeth. 

   “Hi,” you almost whisper, settling down in your seat across from him. 

   He glances up. “Hey,” he says, smiling again. A reflex, in your presence. He clears his throat, then asks, “So, what’d you and May talk about?” He knows May loves him as if he were her son, which for all intents and purposes he is, but he can’t be sure of her secrecy. He wouldn’t put it past his aunt to let slip “accidentally” that he liked you, loved you, cared for you. 

   You take a sip of your glass of water that Peter must have filled in your absence from the table. You had a tendency to take sips of your drink when in uncomfortable conversations, or conversations you felt nervous in. He notes that. “Oh, um, nothing really… but if were gonna talk about it, I’d wanna do it in, like, private?” You twirl your straw around your drink, mixing the ice in the glass. Peter abruptly stands from his chair. You watch him sling a jacket around his shoulders and throw one of his sweaters at you, which you catch easily. “You wanna go now?” 

   He nods, licking his lips anxiously. “No better time than the present, right?” If you’re going to confront him and crush his heart with a single sentence that stands along the lines of I see you as a friend, he wants it done sooner rather than later. He wants it over with, so he can go back to his suffering in comfortable silence and start an attempt to move past this crush the way he had easily drifted away from his crush on Liz Allan. You fumble with the sweater as you stand. “May, we’re gonna step out for a bit!” Peter announces, opening the front door of his apartment and letting you slip out first. He doesn’t wait for her response before he disappears, too. May watches the two of you leave and feels her heart grow twice its size. 

  You’re standing outside the apartment building ten minutes later in the chilly autumn breeze, thankful for the cologne scented sweater that rests over your body like a warm blanket. Peter’s hands are never cold, and so they linger outside of his pockets as opposed to yours, shoved inside the front pocket of the sweater he’s given you. He reaches for your hands wordlessly and rubs them over his. “You’re always freezing,” he laughs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours with a new burst of confidence that you find endearing as you squeeze his hands. “Hey, wanna know something? You might know it already but, I figure I should tell you myself, if you wanna know.” He swings his hands back and forth, and yours swing along with his. 

   “Yeah, please,” you insist, twisting your head to the side to sweep the windswept hair out of your face. One of Peter’s hands comes up to brush it out of the way, typical and cliche and an overplayed move but none of that matters when the action is being carried out, because it makes your stomach constrict in that funny way and your heart melt into a puddle on the dirty sidewalk. His fingers linger over the softness of your cheek, and he keeps his hand there to see what you’ll say about it. You say nothing, let remain there. “You gonna tell me or not?” 

  “Should I- I could maybe…” he sucks on the bottom of his lip. “Forget it, I don’t know how to speak properly around you like this.” You start to protest, demand he tell you because you won’t be able to stop thinking about this if he doesn’t, but every word dies before it can touch the edge of your lips. Peter has his head lowered down toward you and he’s kissing you, a thought that’s crossed your mind more times than you were able to count but now, it’s happening. Real lips pressed against yours feverishly, shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment. When he pulls away first, it returns and collides with him as if he’s hit a brick wall, and his cheeks burn red. He makes no move to back away, still. “D-Did I step out of line? Was that okay? Do you hate me? ‘Cause if you do we can go back upstairs or you can leave and then on Monday we can pretend that this never happened because you’re still my best friend no matter what even if it’s awkward-” 

   Your hands clasp together around the back of his neck as you yank him down toward you again, and this time you kiss him back. You can feel him smiling so hard it makes it difficult to kiss him, but when you break away to tell him that, he just laughs and smiles harder and keeps kissing you. He doesn’t know how to stop now that’s he had the opportunity. You’re both laughing hysterically and trying to kiss properly and his nose bumps against yours repeatedly, and it’s the most perfect first kiss in the world. 

   He keeps his hand firmly grasped in yours when you go back upstairs to his seventh floor apartment, opens the door for you and everything. May is sitting at the table, turns her head to the both of you and peers at you from the top of her glasses. Peter raises his hand and yours, triumphant. May claps her hands together as he, your boyfriend, declares proudly, “Aunt May, I would like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, who I hope will be sticking around?” He looks to you for reassurance, and gets what he needs from the happy kiss you bestow upon the side of his face. 

   “I told you two I know everything!” Is what breaks the joyous silence, and then the laughter starts again; a perfectly lovely family. 

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