a skill i have mastered


When you realize Akira Toriyama is Goku. 💖✌😆

New enemy: I am the maximum fighter in my planet, I have trained for centuries to master this ultimate skill that could destroy a thousand stars and make the time and space cease to exist as we know it, one of my punches would literally break a hole through time and make us all go back to the beginning and die.

Gintoki, holding only his wooden sword: 

Pidge is totally the type of person who would take advantage of their “genius” persona and start sprouting random facts that are total bullshit but everyone believes it because it’s Pidge surely Pidge knows these things.

Pidge: Did you guys know that you can tell if your ancestors were warriors if you can lick your elbow? It’s a mark of flexibility, which was highly prized in warriors and hunters in ancient times.

Lance: Really? Hey Keith! Bet I can lick my elbow and you can’t!

Keith: You’re on!

Shiro walks in ten minutes later to find Keith, Lance, and Hulk all struggling to lick their elbows while Pidge watches and cackles in manic glee. Allura and Coran are convinced that this is some strange earth ritual, and Shiro barely manages to stop them from trying to join in.

Pidge is grounded, but regrets nothing.


kazane & izaya

about kazane: I’m actually not satisfied with the kazane drawing, (I have like a billion layers with adjusted poses and colors) but I think I just need to start over. I was still fond of the sketch, so I did a quick b&w coloring and decided to post it here. I still want to do something more expressive and in color, though… I think I have to rebuild my art skills slowly haha… need to master b&w again before I can move onto something I’m satisfied with in color

about izaya: i swear to god guys that hideous fur coat is literally the most fun to draw

General Tips For Dungeon Masters

I have already sort of touched on some things in another post and a few things may be a little bit of a repeat. 

1.Plan, but not too much: When i first started, I would write a lot more than i needed to. It took up a lot of time i didn’t really have. Planning stuff like names and making it so you can whip up a map in the middle of play is all you really need to plan for. If you plan alternative quests, maybe just write a quick summary and use your imagination and improv if the players start to follow that path. Improvisation is a little tricky but after a while it gets easier and it is a skill all Dungeon Masters should have.

2. Organization: I talked about a binder i used to keep all my information in. Just remember to keep everything labelled and in the right spot. Also, only write down rules that you know you will need and ones that you might not remember for quick reference. Ex. I tend to write terrain rules in where i need them so i can remember. i also have a section with all of the terrain rules and conditions. The reason i re-write some rules into the adventure that i am going from that night, is because it is a little easier to find. However, if they do something i don’t plan for i can easily find the other terrain rules. 

3. Make sure your players are having fun. You don’t want to make them struggle to stay awake while trying to get through your game.

4. make an easy system for keeping track of initiative and other things such as health and conditions: when i use a screen, i write names on a piece of paper and write initiative on there. i also will buy stickers or some other thing i can easily put on them to track conditions. i do it on both sides so players can see what is going on as well. I use to use colorful strips of paper that i would put over the one that was hanging of the screen but that became to hard to clean up after.

5. Make sure you have read the rules: I have made mistakes before in not doing this. Make sure you know what you are doing and if not, make sure you know where to look it up so it doesn’t hinder the progress of the game. 

6. Hide your dice rolls: This is helpful if you make a mistake with making the encounters too high for players. You can correct them by changing some of your rolls.

7. Think visually: try and paint a picture of the area and the people in it. Describe colors, sounds, smells, people. People are all different. give them some special features like scars, limps, clothing that doesn’t quite fit in with the setting. ( the only heavily armored man in a peaceful farming village)

anonymous asked:

For 1000 followers, could we have Shiro and Sam number 86, "You're important too." Thanks!

It’s the 1000 Followers Special!  Based on these prompts.  Prompts are now closed.  Don’t want to see all 35 of these?  Block ‘1000 Followers Special’.  Can’t read on mobile?  These will slowly be posted to AO3 starting in a few days as ‘Hold Up Half the Sky’.  A huge thank you to Xagrok for the beta’ing!

“I was thinking,” Shiro began.

Sam hummed encouragingly.  “Did you just start now?  That’s a very impressive time without.”

That earned him a flat look.  “Ha.  You’re hilarious.”

“Oh, I like to think so.” Sam smiled back and steepled his fingers.  “What were you thinking about?”

(Read More Below)

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Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight - chapter two

a Strangebatch fic by sobeautifullyobsessed

Doctor Stephen Strange’s life has settled into a fulfilling pattern; even as Master of the New York Sanctum, he continues his studies in the mystic arts, self-training with the library that the Ancient One amassed in her years as Sorcerer Supreme. An old alliance forged by the Ancient One brings an unexpected request to him, and he is duty bound to fulfill it. Along the way he meets with some pleasant surprises–and discovers that his heart is not immune to the effects of the gentlest sorts of magic.

from chapter two on AO3 and FFN

Stephen opened his mouth, about to speak a word of welcome, but she had turned back to the portal, taking a last look at whatever—or whomever—she had left behind.  She remained with her back to him, until the circle closed; in its wake, she bowed her head a moment, and then squared her shoulders, readjusting the straps of the large, cleverly woven bag that she bore upon her back.  Finally facing him, Teyla gave a formal little bow, but the weight of her basket shifted, nearly upsetting her balance, so that Stephen had to lunge forward to catch a hold of her arm before she fell.

“Th…th…thank you, Sir,” she managed, sounding shy and more than a little embarrassed, “I…I think I can manage it now.”  Her speech had a slight lilt to it, reminding him that English was not her native tongue.  Teyla kept her eyes lowered as she worked to regain her composure.

Stephen released her, backing up a few steps, frowning at the unavoidable need to abruptly invade her personal space.  “You’re welcome, Miss…”  What should he call her?  Miss Teyla might sound a bit awkward—but Mistress surely didn’t fit; he settled on changing the subject, helpfully suggesting, “Why don’t you set that down?  I can have someone collect it for you later, and leave it in your quarters.”

She nodded, and murmured her thanks again, allowing the basket to slide from her shoulders, onto the ground.  She took a deep breath, bracing herself to address him, and finally met his eyes.  “You are Master Strange, I take it?”  Teyla spoke softly, quietly contrite, “Please forgive my clumsiness.  I am normally not such a…klutz.”

Despite the initial awkwardness between them, Stephen smiled at her use of the Earth colloquialism.  Surprise colored her soft brown eyes, as if she had expected a stern reaction to her artlessness.  Though her face was rather ordinary (and so unlike her mother’s, he mused again) her widened, doe-like eyes, shaded by a thick fringe of lashes, were lovely—and very expressive.  At the moment, they made her seem a little sad (perhaps she is, he thought, in leaving her familiar world behind), the total effect softening what might otherwise seem plain–and stirring him to a bit of sympathy.  “No need to apologize,” he told her kindly, “And you are very welcome here, in Kamar-Taj.”

A little smile crept upon the corners of her mouth, “I thank you for your hospitality and kindness, Master Strange.”  A bit of confidence restored, she offered him her right hand, in another show of familiarity with the customs of her father. “I am Teyla of Hadeeth—but I suppose you know that already,” she shrugged, diffident but clearly well-mannered.

Stephen reached to shake her hand, and as their hands met, she breathed in sharply.  Though it often nettled him to see strangers’ reactions to his scars, he had learned to let it pass unanswered—unless they outright gawked.  Telya’s grasp was light, so he guessed she might be concerned a firmer hold would cause him pain.  She studied their hands together, flipping them a bit so she could see the back of his.  He swore he heard her whisper, ‘oh…they are yours’, before she looked up to study his face, shock and curiosity evident upon her simple features.

“Pardon me.”  Brusquely, he withdrew his hand, having tempered his statement with a bit of latitude—as rude as her reaction seemed, he believed no ill had been intended.  “An old injury,” he added, “And one that brought me to Kamar-Taj.  In the greater scheme of things, these scars have no bearing on the work we do here—but I would ask you, kindly, not to stare.”

“Of…of course, Master Strange.”  Teyla bowed her head, embarrassed again at her faux pas, “I meant no disrespect, Sir.”

Stephen nodded, certain of her sincerity, and ready to move along to more important things.  “Well then…your mother has tasked us with furthering your education in the mystic arts.”  She nodded, so that he continued, “But before we proceed, we need to evaluate what skills you have mastered.”

“Yes.  Yes, I understand.”  She had visibly brightened at the change of topic.  “My mother told me it would be so.”

“Good.  Excellent, in fact,” he replied, adopting the not so welcome role as mentor, “We have several Masters in residence, and I have made arrangements for you to see them.  No rush, so if you need some time to get your bearings here…”

“No, that will not be necessary, Master Strange,” she told him eagerly, “I am prepared for whatever tests you have planned.”

“Alright then—if you would follow me,” Stephen motioned to the archway to his right, “We’ll get you started right away.”

Read the whole story on AO3 and FFN

anonymous asked:

Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering how do you handle an adult life? I'm 17 and the fact that I'm going to be an adult is starting to panic me more and more. Like I CANT talk to adults. I stutter&I'm a mess. I'm even bad with my peers. Some advice on how you do it would be nice. I try to ask my parents, but they aren't very helpful and seem ready to drop me into the deep end to "teach me" a lesson about being an adult. (Sorry again about non blog related question. No obligations to answer)

Oh boy, I’m gonna do my best to answer this, but full disclosure? I’m pretty bad at being social. I have some issues, and talking to people is really hard for me. That might be helpful in this context if you’re coming from a similar situation, but I don’t know if that’s the case, so it’s possible that my stuff won’t work for you. I’ll give it a whirl anyway.

I actually was thrown into the deep end when I was about your age, because I ended up going to college in a state where I pretty literally didn’t know a single person. I don’t know if that was a positive thing or not, but I can definitely say that I’ve gotten significantly better about talking/adulting since then. I’m still terrified of everyone older than me, but I can fake my way through the majority of it now. 

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Chen: Happy birthday, Joonmyunnie~

Jisoo: Buah bah!

Jihoon: Gueh!

Suho: Oh, kittens, are you making pokemon sounds? Daddy’s so proud of you! I feel like a pokemon master, ‘cuz I have the three best pokemon ever!

Chen: Hehe, that’s not the only thing you’ll be the master of today, hyung. I hope you’ve been polishing your jedi master skills, because I have a special kind of lightsaber with your name on it in our room~

Suho: Jongdae-yah… I love you all so much!!

You’re odd, like me: Ch 3

A bughead fanfic.

Summary: Jughead is not interested in girls, ironically this seems to make a lot of them interested in him. Except for Betty, and it drives him crazy when she won’t show any interest in him after spending so many late nights together working on The Blue and Gold.

Read on fanfiction.net

On tumblr: (Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 4) (Ch 5) (Ch 6) (Ch 7)

Chapter 3

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!” I yell, everyone around me stops for a moment to look at me, only to return to their drunken endeavours seconds later. Drunken people can’t focus on one thing for too long I’ve found throughout the years.

“It’s only alcohol, Jug!” Archie exults, referring to the substance now dripping all over me. Something I don’t think he would have said to me if he were in his right mind. But right now Archie is not in his right mind, hence the exulting. That is another thing I’ve found out over the years, Archie always exults everything he says when he’s drunk. And he is drunk. Why is he drunk? Because we are at a party, and I do believe that it’s customary for some unknown reason. Why am I at a party? Well, to answer that question we must voyage into the past:

I had been at Pop’s for about an hour, trying to figure out the plot of a story, which recently entered into my head. It’s a narrative I’m entirely unfamiliar with, that of a boy and a girl.

But then Archie walked into Pop’s unexpectedly. I wouldn’t normally say that it’s unexpected for Archie Andrews to be seen at Pop’s. Although on a Friday night, I would say so, and I wouldn’t normally look up from my laptop when someone enters the small diner. I guess we both aren’t ourselves on this night. I had returned a greeting wave Archie had sent me before he walked over to me and did not sit down across from me. Instead he just looked expectantly at me.

“Take a seat.” I had said to him sardonically; surprised he seemed to seek my sanction.

He had gestured with his hands, although still limited in the pockets of his jersey. “Come on Jug! You know I’m not here to sit.”

“Right.” I had said slowly in realisation, dragging the ‘I’. “I have to say I admire your dedication to this little project of yours of getting me to that party. I guess you give me no choice but to saunter away.” I had said humorously, trying to hide the fact that I inevitably dreaded the thought of being in that surrounding. Dread is not part of the Jughead aesthetic, which I display to the world.

Usually I would decline the offer of going to a party, and I had, many times earlier today. But Archie had nagged on like the unwavering itch that he is, so eventually I said yes without the intention of ever following up on my promise. My plan was to make Archie believe I was going so he’d get of my back, and then sit here all night working on my novel while Archie supposedly wondered where I was at the party I wasn’t attending. I would be prepared to suffer whatever the repercussions on Monday. I hadn’t planned on the scenario of him actually showing up at Pop’s to make sure I followed up, but I guess now that I am living that very scenario I guess it is a plausible one, and one I should have taken into account. Live and learn.

Anyway, this lead to a spiral of actions which have lead me here, at a house party, soaked in what I can only assume is a mixture of alcoholic beverages one would not recommend imbibing if concerned for one’s general wellbeing.

Archie keeps apologizing to me, but I’m not paying him any attention. I wish to remove myself from this situation. Why did Archie insist on taking me here? Does he honestly believe this is my idea of a good time? We are standing in a mass of people pressed together in a small space. I need to get away, but the idea of leaving this party doesn’t thrill me either given how Archie was my ride and there’s a long walk home. October is a beautiful time, albeit the weather has brought with it unfavourable limitations.

I slip away from Archie and he doesn’t follow, thankfully. I enter a relatively secluded hallway with the intention of finding my way upstairs somehow, though I’m not sure as to how since I am not familiar with this house.

I have learned a few tricks from going to a fair few house parties in my lifespan. For example: even though most parties are packed with people, these people usually only hang out in between one or three rooms of the house. Meaning there is usually a fair portion of the house sheltered from the turmoil.

This has been my approach to any given party throughout the years. I successfully escape for an hour or two, only to retreat back to my friend after the appropriate (yet least) amount of time has passed, all is well.

Phase one is now completed and I have reached the isolation from the drunken teenagers, also known as 'the upstairs’.

Now comes phase two: finding a place to settle in the safe waters that hasn’t already been claimed, also known as 'a room where the drunken teenagers aren’t having sex’. Another thing I have learnt in my quest to master the skill of making it through a party without doing any of the actual partying; when moving toward a secluded area, be careful not to disrupt any sexual activity also typically taking place, to my dismay, in those parts of the house I have come to usually inhabit.

This time however, I find that every room is occupied up until the last one I check. (I find it being so by simply pressing my ear against the door and listening for signs of human life.) Or at least it seemed empty at first so I’d closed the door, only to discover a dark figure on the bed. I reached for the handle again but upon seeing her face let go of it instinctively. It’s Betty Cooper sitting on the bed.

Unsure of what to do I put my hands in the pockets of my jean jacket, a nervous tick of some sorts. “Hi.” I say and smile shyly. I then curse myself at my far from antipathic behaviour.

“Hi.” She says back. I almost expect her to be crying or something, as if customary for someone to be doing when sitting in a dark room by oneself. Yet she sounds fairly cheery. “Venturing off to safe ground, I presume?” Betty teases.

“How did you know?” I smile and move toward her, hands still safe in the pockets.

“Well, that’s why I’m here. And as odds would have it, if there’s one of something, there’s usually more of that something.” She says while meeting my eyes. “Also I can’t imagine you being the party type.”

“I’m not, and neither are you it seems.” I sit down at a safe distance on the other side of the bed. “Why are you here then? At this party I mean.” I find myself for once sounding very gentle when speaking to her. Maybe it is a result of being displaced from the crushing environment Riverdale High provides so amiably.

The muffled sounds of music in addition to numerous people having different conversations all at once throughout the house can be heard, yet not a single sound cadences from this room. I look at Betty who isn’t answering me; she looks sort of uncomfortable at the question.

“Honestly I don’t know Jug.” She finally says, and I try to not show any reaction to the mention of my nickname so to not make her feel uncomfortable using it in the future. I like when she calls me Jug, it makes our relationship feel less professional, more relaxed. “I tried to make the best of it, tried to fit in, but I just couldn’t pretend to be like them.” She looks down at her hands, fiddling with her nail, looking actually sad. She then goes on to rub her hands vigorously against her jeans, supposedly removing sweat from them and she looks up at the roof. I wonder if she’s going to cry and I watch her for a while in apprehension, but it never comes thankfully. Instead she gazes out the window, which reflects back on her a violet light. Her thoughts look far away from here.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jughead.” She smiles apologetically. “You go and find Archie and I’ll see you on Monday.” She nods at me in salute, picks up her phone and starts scrolling through what we can only assume is some social medium.

A strong sense of dread fills me at the thought of having to leave this room and go downstairs and re-join the zombie apocalypse. “Hey!” I burst and move closer to her. “You’re kind of leaving me up for grabs here! As we already established earlier: I came here looking for a safe heaven. And now you’re just going to banish me like some soulless empress?” I emote.

She reacts in the exact way I hoped she would, by smiling. She looks away and lets her eyes get taken over by the light from the streetlights outside once again. If I’m not incorrect it’s one of those reluctant smiles one cannot stop from coming about. “You can stay.” She says without looking and we both smile in that reluctant way, except she doesn’t notice mine.

Betty glances at me then, “Why do you wear a jacket? We’re inside Jughead.” She asks to successfully change the subject. “You never, ever, take it off.”

I tuck my hands back in my pockets from where they had escaped and shrug. “Because. I’m weird, in case you haven’t noticed.” I gesture at myself. “I’m a total weirdo.”

“That’s not a reason!” She says and in a natural yet remarkable turn of events she sinks down onto the floor and leans against the bed, looking up at me. I take this as her cementing herself to this room, not planning on leaving anytime soon.

“You should talk, skateboard girl.” I retort.

“Skateboarding is a hobby.”

“Fashion is a hobby.”

She snorts. “Are you telling me this is a fashion statement?” She laughs and gestures at my jacket. I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard her laugh before.

Before my mind has registered the closer coming footsteps from the corridor Archie barges in with a jerk at the door. Up until this point in my life I wouldn’t have guessed that it’s possible to fall horizontally, but Archie is no ordinary man, and he sort of manages to. Right into our safe heaven; he barely doges the floor and concentrates to find his balance. When he does, he looks up at us perplexed, as if this was not the place he had intended to end up.

The look of perplex is soon replaced by one of excitement and he says, “There you are!” I am surprised to find that contrary to my former belief, he is not referring to me but the third person currently in this room, the one sitting next to me on the floor, the empress of this safe heaven; Betty, for short. She moves awkwardly to sit on the bed again.

Archie smiles eagerly at me. “You found her Jug!”

“I didn’t know I was looking for her.” I say sarcastically.

“That’s because I didn’t tell you! But I invited her, so now she’s here!” Archie half shouts, and he’s equally as enthusiastic as before. I think he’s forgotten he left the loud music downstairs.

“That’s well deduced Archie.” I say, but my eyes are on Betty, who looks uncomfortable indeed. I curse Archie in my head. Drunken people are the worst when sober, although I don’t have anything to compare with. I wish I could just remove Archie from this room right now; Betty shouldn’t have to deal with this. But I also want to know more about their exchange. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.” I say to Betty.

“We’re buddies, alright!” Archie laughs and leans over the bed to pat Betty on the shoulder in a drunken mess. I instantly block Archie by taking hold of his arm.

“Archie, seriously? Can’t you see we’re fucking uncomfortable? Can’t you tell we came here to get away from the madness downstairs?” I say sternly.

“Hey relax Jug,” he staggers backward, “I’m sorry, 'didn’t realise I was making you uncomfortable.” Then he switches position like a gust of wind. “But she can tell me herself if she thinks I'm…” he trails of. “That’s not your job Juggie.” He raises a finger at me as if he’s lecturing me. He’s like a comic character.

“Yeah, of course she can but she won’t because she obviously doesn’t want to be rude, alright? So back off a bit will you?” I say heatedly. “Besides. You’re making me uncomfortable Archie, don’t you get that?” I look as him intensely. “You should get that.”

Archie seems to gather himself. “You’re right, sorry I’m being a drunk ass idiot. I’ll just leave.” And just like that he’s departs, as abruptly as he arrived.

It’s quiet. I’m a little scared to look at Betty now. Scared I’ve embarrassed her in some way. I guess this is the trouble with a party, and why I never enjoy them; there is no safe heaven.

“Drunk people are the worst.” Betty finally says.

I break into a smile. “They are.”

It’s quiet for a bit longer and I can’t help but wonder why a girl like Betty would accept a party invitation from Archie. “But I guess if you’re into sporty guys then Archie is the one for you.” I let slip in a judgmental tone.

“I wouldn’t say I’m into anyone.” Betty says in an equally sardonic voice as mine. “But he’s nice.” She continues more softly. “Which is a rare thing to find at in Riverdale.”

“I’m … nice.” I defend, which Betty doesn’t say anything to and, I’ll admit, doesn’t make me feel very confident in the validity of my words. “Okay. I’ll admit. Archie is … nice. But he’s also kind of a dunce, you know? He doesn’t see things. He doesn’t … notice details. He’s all up in himself.” I conclude while searching her eyes for something, I don’t know what, and she just stares back, unsure. There’s no giveaway in her stare, I know I won’t find anything, but I keep searching like a man stuck in a labyrinth, desperate for an escape.

“So are you the type of guy who notices things?” She asks.

“Oh no. That’s not me. I’m equally oblivious, absorbed in my own little world with my jeans jackets and weird hats, you see.” I say with ambiguous authenticity and stand up. “Anyway, I should be getting home now.”

“Alright.” Betty replies, standing up as well.

“Do you have a ride home?” I ask.

She nods back. “Yeah, I’ll just call mom.”

I extend my hand to her and she reacts with puzzlement. We don’t usually shake hands when departing one another’s company. Nevertheless, she doesn’t disappoint and extends her hand with dignity, which I take in mine. But I don’t shake it, for this is not a handshake. I hold it in mine and then flip hers around so that her palm is facing up. I look at the scars I already know adorns her skin and I can feel her reluctance so I stroke my thumb against them gently before I look up to meet her eyes again. “Goodnight.” I say, and leave the safe heaven.

22 April 2017

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i think people tend to underestimate the amount of work that goes into passing for trans people and honestly i’d consider it a skill that is incredibly hard to master and i certainly have not 

yes, i can ‘pass’ in photos that i 1) take myself and 2) choose to post on here, as i only generally post pictures i like of myself that make me feel good about myself, so of course online that’s all you’d see

but passing is more than your looks under a certain angle, unfortunately 

this includes but is not limited to; how you walk (how you hold yourself up, how you maneuver yourself, what kind of presence you give off), how you speak (in vocabulary, mannerisms, pitch, tone), your size, how you sit, how you stand, how you react, how you interact, how certain facial features appear, many of these things i cannot change or change effectively

passing takes a large amount of focus and concentration and energy (both emotionally and physically) and even then, if you don’t fit certain ideas that cis people have in their heads, you’re likely to still be misgendered or worse which is already taxing enough 

it’s also very expensive - hormones? surgeries? packers? binders? if you’re disabled? if you’re not thin? if you’re poor? 

it’s not as simple as looking a certain way in pictures! 

anonymous asked:

hey zoo! Quick question! I'm doing the NSB challenge and on one of the generations it says the sim must master the wellness skill? I don't have Spa Day and was wondering since I didn't, if I could leave it out or put something else in it's place? Thanks in advance! (PS: I tried asking Kayla, but that was before I knew she was on vacation~)

you can just leave it out 

Dancing with the stars- Hayes imagine

Note: Im gonna start using first person point of view instead of second from now on cause I feel like it helps me write better - love your writer xx

I was deeply and madly in love with him.

As in him I mean Hayes Grier.

The first day I met him was a moment I would treasure forever. It was quite funny actually, I walked in the room where we would practice to see this cute brown haired guy dancing crazily across the room.

I couldn’t help but fall into a fit of laughter seeing him, then he abruptly turned his eyes wide and his face red as he looked at me. He kept on stuttering that whole day as he was utterly embarrassed.

The second day he came in full of confidence as if he wanted me to forget everything from the day before, he completed the whole section of the dance with perfection but at the end when I started clapping he tripped over his feet.

I would never let him live either of those moments down, these moments were ones I would never forget because I was in love with him.

His ocean blue eyes, the cute nose, his cute smile, the loud laugh whenever he found something funny, his large hands that always radiated warmth. He was filled with personality and I loved that about him.

He was the most kind, loving, funny, smart guy I’ve met. I could talk to him all day and I would never run out of things to say.

I loved him the day I came crying because my dog died and he stuck with me, cheering me up and holding me close. I loved him when he broke his wrist but insisted on trying to carry me causing us both to fall on the ground in between laughter.

“(Y/n)?” I look up snapping out of my thoughts to see Hayes staring down at me.

“You zoned out” he said chuckling and reaching out a hand to me to pull me up.

“Yeah” I mumbled at him, feeling all kinds of sad when I realized I was out here in the first place. He had gotten a call from someone who was named “Love”. It made me sad to think that he had a special someone in his life.

“Hey whats wrong?” his arms wrapped around my shoulder as we headed back into the dance building.

“Nothing” I replied struggling against his arm.

“What’s wrong (y/n)?” suddenly his warm hands were cupping my face as his eyes stared into mine.

“Stop people will get the wrong idea, what if they tell your girlfriend?” I muttered angrily.

“Girlfriend?” he managed out after a few minutes.

“Yeah your girlfriend, I saw the name “Love” calling you” I replied hastily.

His face broke out into a grin. “What?” I snapped at him, only to have him chuckling.

“Your jealous aren’t you?” he asked crossing his arms across his chest with one eyebrow raised, a skill I have yet to master.

“No I just-”

“You’re jealous”

“No I am not” I huffed out





This bantering went on for a bit until I grew tired and finally poured out my feelings to him.

“Okay fine! I love you okay? And it hurts so much to see that you already have another girl in your life. I want to be your love and I want to be your girlfriend. But now that could not happen I should move on. Maybe I’ll marry Dylan O’Brien or something in the future but right now I-”

“Shut up (y/n) your rambling” he said cutting me short. “I love you too (y/n) a lot. It’s about time that we finally admitted our feelings to each other because it has been eating me out ever since I first realized I love you.” He grabbed my waist pulling me into him causing me to squeal.

Chuckling lightly, he pulled my chin up to look at him. “So would you like to go on a date with me?”

I was just about to yell yes out when a thought stopped you. “But what about “love” the one that was calling you on your phone.” I asked looking straight at him.

He chuckled yet again and stopped when I hit his chest. “That’s Tez, he put that as his contact name because fans believe we have some bromance going on, so can you please answer my question now?”

I giggled as I heard Tez’s weird behavior before nodding.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeats as I stood in his arms.

I was in love with him, so deeply and madly and this was just our beginning to our story, our love story.

Requested by http://nia1010.tumblr.com/:Hi I LOVE your blog. Can you please do a Hayes Grier imagine please where They are both on dancing with the stars and Hayes and y/n fall in love? Thanks

Also remember to request if you want an imagine!xx