The end had finally come and despite the amount of time you spent preparing for it, it still felt like a punch in your stomach. The knot in your throat was painful and your lungs still struggled for air to breathe. Tears clouded your eyes and turned your vision blurry until his face was unrecognizable.
Headcanon: Jeremy LOVES thunderstorms. It’s like an anxiety thing, he loves how it makes things all warm and dark and cozy. He always goes to Michael’s house in the middle of a storm with this excited dorky smile and boxes of apple cider and hot cocoa mix. The two of them bury themselves in blankets and listen to the sound of the rain as they play video games together.
Y’know what? I used to be ashamed of how pale I am naturally. People used to praise how tan I was when I was little, but that was only because I spent so much more time outside then than I do now. My natural skin color has always been this pale. And now that I spend much of my time indoors because of my work… the only time my skin color comes up in casual conversation, it’s to point out “wow, you’re REALLY pale.”
I get dismissed for being white a lot. I get told my opinions on things don’t matter, or that I can’t possibly understand things… because I’m white, and therefore not anything else. As if my skin color was a reflection of who I am, who and what I could be.
But… I have good skin. I don’t burn easy. My skin has a nice slightly-olive, slightly-yellowish cast to it, and it makes me look good in yellow clothing, which is my favorite color.
It contrasts well with my dark hair. I don’t have much of a natural blush, but my skin looks good with a little bit of salmon-colored rouge applied on my cheeks. I can wear lipstick that ranges from cherry red to burnt orange to bright pink, and it doesn’t look silly on me.
I’m still admittedly a little jealous of people who have darker, richer skin tones. Beautiful, sunny skin that looks healthy and vibrant, even when they don’t spend much time outside. But I have good skin, too, and I shouldn’t be so self-conscious about being naturally pale – something I can’t really help.
‘Name one hero who was happy.“ I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back. "You can’t.” He was sitting up now, leaning forward. “I can’t.” “I know. They never let you be famous AND happy.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you a secret.” “Tell me.” I loved it when he was like this. “I’m going to be the first.” He took my palm and held it to his. “Swear it.” “Why me?” “Because you’re the reason. Swear it.” “I swear it.”