i really like him with glasses

SWEATY PALMS CH3

Summary: “DESPERATE NEED: BASSIST. NO SHIT TASTE IN MUSIC. PLUS: BE HOT.” That was all the flyer had said along with a location. Eddie would usually never go to some random club to try out for a band full of people he didn’t know, but his therapist DID tell him to take some more risks.

Read Ch 1 HERE, Ch 2 HERE

Pairings: Reddie, slight Mike/Stan/Bill

Warnings: internalized homophobia, vomit, hints to sexual content. (please remember that these characters are all over the ages of 21)

Thank you AGAIN @losvcr so much for being my beta for this. What would I do without you??

Taglist: @just-an-akward-fangirl, @hauntedtozier, @achievehuntress, @my-son-richie-tozier, @decaffeinatedpostmoon, @rhubarberous, @littletwinstxrs, @bl0w-ur-dad

The warm skin that Eddie had felt in his hands was replaced with cold porcelain. His knuckles went white as he lurched forward, his stomach emptying once again. Eddie tried to remember what had lead up to this; he had downed some vodka and now he was here. At least the hand on his back let Eddie know he wasn’t alone.

“Damn Eds, you gonna make it?” Richie snorted, continuing to rub circles into his back.

Maybe he would rather be alone. This was so embarrassing. Eddie groaned as his memories rushed back.

Eddie and Richie’s heavy breathing synced together as the music stopped, Richie pressing his forehead to the smaller man’s.

“Holy shit, Eds. Didn’t peg you for the dancing type.” He rested his hands on Eddie’s waist, rubbing exposed skin with his thumbs.

“Me neither.” Eddie let out a breathy laugh, lightly pressing back against Richie’s forehead. He had never felt this free before. His head was spinning. His fingers were tingling. He felt a bit nauseous. Richie pulled back with a concerned look on his face.

“You alright, Eddie? You don’t look so good.” He smoothed back Eddie’s hair before pressing a hand to his forehead.

“R-Richie…I don’t feel so hot..” Before Richie had the chance to back away Eddie was hurling onto his shirt.

“Oh, gross! Alright okay, everyone make some space!” Richie had dealt with puke before, he was in a band after all. Richie ushered Eddie upstairs and to the bathroom.

Eddie groaned, his dread being realized has he looked over Richie’s vomit covered shirt.

“Oh god, Richie, I’m sorry.” He mumbled out, resting his forehead in his hand.

“Don’t worry about it Eds, you were really cool.” Richie kept his hand on Eddie’s back.

“I puked on you, that’s not cool.” He wanted to die right there.

“Eddie, listen. You drank like a champ and were the best dance partner I’ve probably ever had.” Richie flashed him a huge grin and Eddie felt his heart squeeze.

“Really?” Eddie couldn’t help but smile. Richie nodded, scooting closer to him and moving his hand from Eddie’s back to rest on his shoulder. He couldn’t help his gaze from landing on Eddie’s lips. Richie had just watched this guy puke his guts out, why’d he want to kiss him so bad?

There was a knock on the doorframe and both their heads whipped up.

Mike stood in the doorway a glass of water in hand.

“Am I interrupting?” He smirked at Richie who was shaking his head furiously.

“Nah. Han my man, what’s up?” He slowly stood, resting his hand gently on top of Eddie’s head.

“Just wanted to bring this poor kid some water.” Mike’s gaze shifted to Eddie with a soft smile as he walked over to crouch down next to the poor man still kneeling next to the toilet. He held out the glass of water.

“You feeling any better?”

Eddie’s shaky hands took the glass, pressing it to his lips lightly.

“Yeah, thank you.” He nodded before realization struck, he hadn’t just puked on Richie but on the floor as well. “I have to go clean that up!”

Mike shook his head. “It’s alright, I already took care of it.” Eddie’s cheeks went red.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. That must have been so gross.” He took a small sip of water as Mike laughed.

“It’s alright, I used to work on a farm. I’ve seen a lot worse than a little puke.” Mike smiled wider as Eddie continued with the apologizes.

Richie gently curled his fingers in Eddie’s soft hair, sending chills down his spine. He was about to thank Mike again for about the hundredth time when their attention was brought to a door opening across the hall.

Eddie’s face nearly turned beet red watching what was happening in front of them. Bill had Stan pinned against the open door, trailing kisses down his neck. Both the men’s hands were trying to remove the other person’s shirt as fast as they could. Bill only pulled away to pull his shirt over his head, moving back into what Eddie could only guess was their bedroom.

Stan watched the other man with a look that made Eddie’s insides tighten.

Should I be watching this?

Suddenly, Stan turned his attention over to them; more specifically Mike. A grin broke out over Stan’s face as he pointed to the now blushing Mike, making a calling motion with his finger. Mike stood quickly, brushing his hands over his pants.

“Well have a good night you two. Feel better Eddie!” He quickly made his way to Stan and Eddie could barely make out what the curly-haired man said as Mike closed the door behind him, but he heard it.

“Did you really think we’d start without you?”

Eddie stared into his glass of water, his cheeks still flushed while Richie sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched Eddie squirm.

“Does that stuff make you uncomfortable?” Richie stared him down.

“Sex? I’m not a kid, Richie.” Eddie couldn’t look up from the glass.

“No I mean- does it make you uncomfortable ‘cause they’re all guys?” Eddie shrunk in on himself, trying to ignore his mother’s words bouncing around in his head.

Faggots! Disgusting! Eddie you’re not like them! You’re not gay Eddie, we’ll get you help!

Eddie shook his head before downing the rest of his water.

“It doesn’t bother me.” He didn’t sound very convincing. His eyes shot to Richie who was just frowning, and Eddie let out a sigh.

“I wasn’t brought up by the most accepting person.” His eyes were back to the now empty glass.

As Richie stoop up, Eddie’s stomach dropped. He was sure Richie was going for the door. How could he have already fucked this whole situation up? Richie had to hate him now.

Stupid, so stupid, Eddie.

His thoughts stopped dead when he felt Richie’s hand on the top of his head again. It was just as gentle as the time before.

“Let’s get you to bed alright, Ed’s?” Eddie looked up to the taller man who had nothing but love in his eyes. It made Eddie’s stomach flip.

“A-Alright.” He slowly stood and Richie placed a hand on his arm to steady him before they made their way to Richie’s bedroom.

It looked exactly how Eddie would have imagined it; posters lining every inch of the walls, clothes strewn all over the floor, and a desk covered in pages of music and lyrics.

“Sorry it’s a mess.” Richie apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. Eddie just kept taking in all the stuff that Richie had; most of it looked like junk, but cool junk. He walked over to Richie’s desk, smiling fondly as he picked up a Magic 8Ball and sat down onto Richie’s bed.

“Are you twelve?” He looked up to the taller man who was now blushing.

“Hey! That thing has helped me write a lot of songs, alright?” A grin formed on his face as he kicked off his shoes and sat down next to Eddie.

“You do know they’re completely random, right?” Eddie went to shake the 8ball but Richie took it from his hands.

“I’m telling you these things really work, Ed’s” Richie shook it in his hands. “Is Eddie going to be a good addition to the Losers’ Club?” Eddie blushed as Richie asked the question. The answer showed: Very Likely.

“See! It’s magic!” Richie had the biggest smile on his face as Eddie took the 8Ball back.

“Is Richie a total nerd?” Eddie beamed back at the curly-haired man as the answer showed: Yes.

“Woah Richie you might actually be right!” Eddie laughed, and made Richie’s heart squeeze.

“Alright smart guy, give me that!” Richie playfully tried to wrestle the 8Ball from Eddie’s hands.

“No! I’m not done!” They continued the struggle before they both fell back onto the bed, Richie holding himself up over Eddie on shaky arms. The room went silent as Eddie stared up at Richie, their faces only inches apart. Eddie’s hand went limp, the 8ball rolling onto the floor.

After a moment, Richie finally broke the silence. “Do you like the left or the right side?” Eddie’s cheeks flushed while Richie slowly stood up. “Or I could take the floor, I don’t mind.”

Eddie shook his head.

“I-It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing.” Eddie sat up again, pushing off his shoes and scooting onto the left side of the bed. He watched as Richie opened his closet and sifted through a pile of clothes before pulling out a clean shirt. Eddie’s cheeks warmed again as he remembered why Richie had to change.

Richie pulled the dirty shirt off and Eddie couldn’t help but stare. Richie was tall and skinny, but his arms and back had enough definition to show from all the playing and lifting of equipment he did. Eddie felt a dryness in his throat as he watched Richie’s bare back flex, but Richie frowned as he caught a look of himself in a standing mirror he had next to his closet.

Fuck, I look like shit.

After Richie pulled on the shirt and ran his fingers through his hair, Eddie was quick to lay down and pretend he hadn’t been staring when the curly-haired man turned his attention back to the bed. Without warning, Richie flung himself onto the side next to Eddie, a grin on his face while Eddie tried his hardest not to look. A a blush was still creeping up his neck.

Why was I staring? That’s so creepy.

Richie leaned over Eddie to place his glasses on the nightstand. Eddie’s heart was beating like crazy.

“Night, Eds” Richie laid on his back, closing his eyes. Eddie studied Richie’s face for a moment before turning to face the taller man and closing his eyes tight.

Maybe I shouldn’t drink anymore

It had been about an hour until Richie was sure Eddie was asleep. He could hear soft snores over the muffled music still playing from downstairs. Richie turned to face the man sleeping next to him and he carefully reached out to gently push a few strands of hair from Eddie’s face. Eddie may not have understood, but Richie wasn’t a stranger to these kinds of feelings. If only Eddie Kaspbrak was gay was all Richie could think to himself.

I’m so fucked.

anonymous asked:

ok so maybe magnus is translating some super complicated demonic text and that’s why he has glasses. anyway magnus has been doing it for hours so he doesn’t really notice alec coming home. but then the door to the study opens (alec’s bringing him tea bc he’s a great bf) but nothing happens for a while and magnus looks up to see alec staring at him with the ”wow mr bane looks great in glasses and fuck i’m gay” eyes and idk that’s that

magnus pushing the glasses further up his nose like ??? but also smiling and alec is like i love my intelligent mans and his glasses and he goes over and slides them off of his face and pulls him into a kiss

Idea for a Superman origin movie

built around two solid points:
1) Lois Lane is the lead character; and
2) The audience dose not know who is playing Superman going into the movie.

So the movie centers around a young Lois, who’s desperately trying to get a job as a reporter at the Daily Planet, despite a hiring freeze as the printed journalism business struggles to keep up, and despite the fact she has no prior journalism experience (at least, not outside of an expensive degree that has yet to start paying for itself). Even though no one at the Planet will even return her calls, she barges in in the middle of a work day, trying to get an interview. She bounces off a lot of people (a number of them tall guys with dark hair and nice eyes who she barely notices) until she tracks down Perry White, who tells her, sarcastically, that he’ll hire her on the spot if she can bring him a properly sourced article revealing the story Metropolis’s new hero, who just yesterday stopped a runaway train with his bare hands. 

She gets to work. Her friends tell her she’s crazy. Her sister bails her out of jail at least once (maybe a montage of times). Her father, General Lane, threatens disownment and/or military arrest. This “menace” broke a muggers arm last week, and is wanted for vigilantism. If she really does find out the identity of this man (who’s been gaining notoriety with every feat) and brings it to a newspaper before the military, her father would have to take action. (This country is his family, after all.)

But the more Lois looks into this ‘super man’, the more she likes what she sees. It’s hard without credentials, but she’s been collecting eye-witness reports for months trying to find the pattern to track; the pattern that everyone’s been looking for. She has dozens of interviews with police, and store owners, and caught criminals, but it’s in the interviews of the regular folk that she finds the pattern:

This man is kind. 

Every headline is about a larger-than-life figure who catches falling statues, wins chases with cars, and stops bullets with his pecs. In the words of the innocent people of Metropolis though, is someone else. Someone who flies broken cars to the shop from the highway during rush hour. Someone who takes a sobbing child from the scene of a bike accident and drops off a smiling one with their parents. Someone who’s been spotted leaving flowers by the headstones of the ones who didn’t make it out of that train crash. Someone who sits in a secluded corner of the park and plays chess with the old woman who’s husband can no longer leave the house. Someone who literally pulled a dog out of a river and a cat from a tree. 

So, to find the Man of Steel, Lois searches for kindness - and she finds it everywhere. She finds all the coats freely shed for someone cold. She finds all the grocery carts paid for by the previous customer. She finds lonely veterans offered a seat at the family table in restaurants. She finds hate symbols painted over with cute cartoons and symbols of love. She finds dozens and dozens of volunteers who help clean up and serve food and rebuild after train crashes and car wrecks and robberies. 

She finds Superman.

And then she finds a man in the park.

He’s not doing much, just sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. The copy of the Daily Planet on the bench next to him speculates on the dangers of super humans, as it has every day for the last two weeks. Some have even suggested that the Man of Steel is an alien, though those theories have only barely broken into mainstream. Whatever this man is worrying over, whatever weight is on his shoulders, seems much heavier than a newspaper, though. Lois hasn’t worried herself with the same issue’s as her prospective employer, either. Thoughts still on the group of teens she’s just passed, each promising to beat up on some boy for their friend, are still fresh on her mind, and she takes the spot next to the stranger on the bench.

He’s not a stranger, though. Lois recognizes him. She doesn’t know his name, but she saw him that day at the Daily Planet months ago, and she’s seen him across the police tape at scenes she’s investigated. He wrote today’s front page article: “Man of Steel, or Menace of Steel?”

He’s politely flustered when she sits down, and she promptly tells him that everything about his article - she’s already read it, of course - is absurd. She doesn’t care who “made him write it”, the entire thing is just plain wrong. She finds herself repeating stories she’s read and re-read at all hours of the morning. Stories of regular people who’d told her how they’d been inspired by Superman. How they’d taken leaps of faith toward recovery and new lives thanks to Superman. Teenagers have chosen to live because of Superman. She quotes sources, and sources of people, including herself, who have said that the city of Metropolis - maybe even the world - was so much better because of Superman.

“Superman?” the reporter asks.

“It’s just something I’ve been calling him. He’s got that big S on his chest, right?”

The reporter laughs. He hasn’t smiled the whole time, only looked at her with wide eyes. His smile is… nice. His glasses are dumb though.

“Yeah,” she admits, “it’s a dumb name.”

“No,” he says. A weight has fallen off his shoulders while she was flipping through her notebooks. He sniffles a bit. Lois had just torn into his article with all the fury she could muster, is he crying about it? No, he’s smiling, still. “I really like it. Have you written all this down?”

Lois Lane writes it all down. Her new friend (who proofread the hell out of it because Lois is driven as hell but can’t spell) Clark Kent turned it in to his boss. The newest headline reads:

The Story of Superman -by Lois Lane


She’s getting paid more than Clark in under a year. He just seems to be so distracted all the time. Maybe she should look into that…
tsundere (m)

Originally posted by nnochu

⇢ resident advisor! yoongi x reader, college au

⇢ word count: 11.2k

⇢ summary: according to the rumours, min yoongi is a bad apple- doesn’t take grades seriously, drinks as if he has two livers, a certified bad boy™. when you get paired up with him for a project, you’d never expect that someone like him would have a thing or two to teach you about life itself- and how it should be lived. 

⇢ warnings: angst, smut

🎵 song recommendation: something just like this by coldplay x the chainsmokers

a/n: finally something that isn’t pwp????? :”) 


Panic races through your veins and fills up your airway, causing your breathing to double itself, chest heaving in an attempt to calm yourself down. No, this can’t be happening, you chant to yourself over and over. The clock on your laptop is glaringly bright in the near darkness of your room, and the numbers burn themselves into the back of your eyelids. When you close your eyes, the uncomfortable stinging of your contact lenses makes your eyes water and at this point they might as well be tears of desperation.

It’s not like you’ve never had writer’s block before, you reason with yourself. You just have to start writing and edit along the way. Your own voice of reason is drowned out by the anxiety that echoes all the possible consequences of not acing this paper. It’s nearly 4 am and the essay you have so far in front of you is not enough to get an A, you know it in your bones but you can’t come up with anything better either. You could just submit this as it is, but anything less than an A on this paper would pull you down from the cusp of that ever elusive first class honours. And you can’t afford to graduate with anything less than that. The very thought of it sends a fresh chill of panic that creeps down your spine and jolts your fingers into a typing frenzy, spilling thoughts and ideas onto your screen till you reach the end of the page.

But when you read over what you’ve written, it doesn’t make sense at all, just incoherent rambling sentences strung together into a never ending paragraph. In frustration you shove your laptop away from you and push back your chair, reaching for your keys and phone. Sneaking a peek at your roommate’s still form across the room, you let yourself out of the room silently, feeling your tensed shoulders relax immediately as the cool night air embraces you with open arms.

It’s a little chilly to be out in just a long shirt and sleep shorts, but since there’s no one awake to catch you dressed like this, it’s the least of your concerns for now. The balcony that is attached to your room affords a little privacy, and it’s one of the perks of occupying the corner room on this floor. The tranquillity of the cold, autumn night directly contrasts with the millions of theories and concepts running through your mind, and any attempts at clearing your mind are failing pathetically. The residential halls are eerily silent at this time of the night, and as you glance down over the protective railings, you consider how easy it would be to just climb over, just one leg over and then-

“Late night?” You whirl around at the interruption of a raspy, gruff voice sounding from behind you. Your eyes are met with a figure clothed in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans, but it’s only when you squint in the darkness to survey his face that you realise who he is.

Keep reading

The scene where Rowan outs Lysandra as a shifter really is a treasure

Rowan seated on Aedion’s right, cocked his head to the side. “Do you need an introduction?”
Lysandra’s smile grew. “I like your fangs,” she said sweetly.
Aelin choked on her grape. Of course Lysandra did.
Rowan gave a little grin that usually sent Aelin running. “Are you studying them so you can replicate them when you take my form, shapeshifter?”
Aelin’s fork froze midair.
“Bullshit” Aedion said.

#buymelodramaonitunes

  • the reason melodrama is so complex is that it simultaneously celebrates and criticises parties as a place where the rules no longer apply 
  • parties give us an illusion of control? confined in the world of the party it’s all ‘our rules, our dreams’ and we are ‘kings and queens’
  • homemade dynamite is such a call to arms for our generation okay it feels like a metaphor for the potential we all have to create change 
  • but equally could be a metaphor for our self-destructive tendencies??? 
  • the louvre is beautiful because it glorifies the tiny beautiful moments, relationships that don’t last forever but are still beautiful and priceless and are still works of art - masterpieces and still good enough for the louvre
  • also this is a song about writing a love song? ‘broadcast the boom boom boom and make ‘em all dance to it’ that is literally the conventional role of pop music? 
  • okay but hear me out i think liability/hard feelings are two versions of the same story, liability immediately after the split and hard feelings in retrospect!!!!! there are so many parallels!!!
  • let go of this endless summer afternoon vs. every endless summer’s eating me alive 
  • well i guess i should go vs. well i guess i’ll go home 
  • big mistake of dancing in my storm vs.  how you’d dance for me 
  • i am obsessed with how sober ii explores the performance of being a young adult like ‘oh how fast the evening passes’ and the references to ‘champagne’ suggests some form of performed sophistication 
  • ‘we told you this was melodrama’ could play on this idea of performing a role, or alternatively could play on the way society views the lives of millennials - melodramatic and ridiculous!!!
  • ‘they’ll talk about us, all the lovers, how we kissed and killed each other’  reminds us that this is our legacy, this is how we live forever - it’s super self-reflective and seems to call on us to consider the mark we are leaving on the world BUT also ‘romanticises us making us the stuff of myth and legend, we are immortalised forever in our scandal 
  • writer in the dark!!!!! so like to begin with that double meaning - kissing her literally in the dark / kissing her while he kept her in the dark about how he really felt 
  • this is lorde’s ‘blank space’ revenge song okay fight me on this 
  • her secret power is being able to keep him forever bc she ‘locks him in her heart’ he’ll rue the day he kissed her because in doing so he sealed his fate!!!
  • this is actually REALLY CREEPY I WANT A CREEPY MUSIC VIDEO!!!!
  • okay so love of my life supercut: every chorus is like the actual supercut playing back all the good parts back - that sunny pre-chorus with the repetition, mirroring the idea of a highlights reel playing over and over again
  • but it’s also a metaphor for seeing a past relationship through rose-tinted glasses/the way nostalgia makes things beautiful - she is only remembering the beautiful parts
  • okay but the ultimate storyline of the album seems to be from green light, sober, homemade dynamite we get the impression that ‘all there is, is the party’, whereas liability reprise suggests that ‘maybe all this is the party’ which is such a beautiful and hopeful discovery for the album to make - leading straight into perfect places, which celebrates life with all it’s imperfections and flaws!!!
#fluff #wrong-number #texting

Prompts: @poppinsss
Author: @queenofthyme

Malfoy opened the door in a silk robe. Harry nearly choked.

“What are you doing here?” Malfoy asked.

Harry blinked. “You asked me over.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Potter, I did no such thing. Why would you – “

Harry pulled out his phone for the evidence and showed it to Draco.

Now it was Malfoy’s turn to choke. His face went beet red. “That wasn’t meant for you.”

Harry eyed the silk robe. “Clearly.”

Malfoy tugged the robe tighter over his chest and crossed his arms. “But you came.”

Harry shrugged. “I was curious.” And hopeful.

“Come in, then.”

“What?”

“My intended guest clearly isn’t coming so it’s not like I have anything better to do,” Malfoy said, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“Charming,” retorted Harry. The offer wasn’t particularly convincing. He had known the text was too good to be true. He made to turn away.

“Wait, Potter,” Draco said, stopping him, “I didn’t mean – Look, I’m sorry.” He sighed, like he really didn’t want to have to say it: “I’d like you to stay.”

Now that was more like it. Harry stepped inside and followed Malfoy into the Sitting Room. He kept his eyes high, trying not to notice how short the robe was from behind. It didn’t appear as if Malfoy was wearing any underwear.

“Can I get you a drink?” Malfoy asked, once Harry had sat down.

Harry gulped. The robe appeared even shorter from this vantage point. “Sure.”

Malfoy disappeared into the Manor and appeared minutes later, two glasses of firewhiskey in hand. He passed one to Harry and then took a seat on the armchair opposite, crossing his legs demurely – which was a necessity in his getup.

Harry took a large swig of his glass. “Aren’t you going to change?”

Malfoy’s raised his eyebrows. “You have a problem, Potter?

“No,” Harry squeaked. Yes, actually squeaked.

Malfoy laughed at that, but he did pull down on the hem of his robe to cover his legs a little further.  “I don’t usually – I’m not usually this forward,” he explained.

“Must be someone special.”

Malfoy frowned. “Not not really. No at all. I’m actually glad I – “ He stopped himself, his eyes darting to Harry sharply. “Well, I just mean it’s probably best I didn’t text them.”

“Instead, you got me.”

“I certainly would have dressed differently if I’d known. You wouldn’t see me like this until at least the second date.”

Harry held back a smile. “So is this a date now?”

“It could be,” Malfoy said, his eyes on his firewhiskey as he swished it around in his glass like it were wine.

“But is it?” Harry pushed.

Malfoy looked up. “You tell me.”

“You’re the one who answered the door half naked.”

Malfoy’s lips quirked up. “So, I’ve already lost some of my dignity tonight. I’d say it’s your turn.”

Harry downed the rest of his firewhiskey. “It’s a date,” he decided.

‘You always were the brave one,” Malfoy said, following Harry’s actions and finishing his own firewhiskey. He placed the empty glass down and moved his hands to the tie of his robe. “So if this is a date, I guess I can show you what’s underneath the robe now.”

“I – er – um – I – “ Harry spluttered, his face heating up at the thought.

Malfoy laughed and dropped his hands. “Calm down, Potter. I’m only teasing. Not until the second date, remember? Tonight we talk. And eat. How do you feel about soup? It’s the only thing I can cook.”

Harry relaxed. “Perfect.”


more like this l @queenofthyme I soup meme

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.”

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write a fic about Scott getting werewolf drunk with Derek and accidentally letting it slip that Stiles is on love with Derek. (In honor of your drinking) ;)

“Scott, I’m going to kill you!”

The door of his apartment banged open and for the first time in years, Scott jumped in shock. His coffee mug hit the kitchen tile and shattered, piping hot coffee splashed over his bare feet, and he suddenly remembered Stiles saying at some point that he was learning how to mask his presence from werewolves.

Apparently he mastered that particular skill.

And how to magically and silently open a deadbolt.

Normally Scott would pick up Stiles’ familiar heartbeat two floors down, and his jeep while it was still a ways down the road, but this time, there had been nothing. No heartbeat, no jeep, not even footsteps in the hallway—until suddenly there was everything. Elevated heart rate, clouds of anger wafting through the apartment, Stiles stomping closer, furious for some reason, and Scott could do nothing to prepare himself because for the first time in his life, he was hungover.

Really hungover.

He was dying, because just the night before, he discovered in the stupidest way possible that yes, werewolves could get drunk with the right tools and a little determination. And the right tool was some crazy strong alcohol Stiles brought back from Poland last year that could punch straight through even an alpha werewolf’s metabolism. And what did he do with that discovery?

Shots.

Like a college freshman away from home for the first time, buckling under immense peer pressure.

He was hungover, he was dying, and he was an idiot.

An idiot who Stiles was apparently about to murder, judging by his murderous expression when he turned the corner and locked his wild, murderous gaze on Scott. His hair was tugged up in every direction, he’d probably slept in that loose and stretched shirt, and he had the manic energy of a man who’d been roaming the streets looking for vengeance.

It had been years since Scott last felt any kind of inkling of fear towards his best friend, but right then, standing in his underwear in a puddle of hot coffee, feeling nauseous and fuzzy and somehow bloated—he was horribly aware of the mountain ash that Stiles always had on him. It was the emissary’s favorite threat towards werewolves who pissed him off, and while he rarely ever followed through with it, that murderous face promised no empty threats. Just revenge.

Scott stepped out of the puddle of hot coffee. That was really all he could do to improve the situation.

“You told him,” Stiles accused, eyes narrowed with rage as he stalked closer. “You actually told him, I can’t believe you would tell him!”

Keep reading

i had a spare moment so i tried to figure out what my lone wanderer’s parents looked like

Snap Decision

(A chance meeting with a stranger at a bar helps you recover from a bad breakup.)

Warnings: 11000+ words of mostly sex stuff.  Bad ex boyfriends. People doing inadvisable things.  Listen up kids: in real life you should be more cautious about who you let take naked pictures of you! Lots and lots of sex.  If you’ve read my stuff before, you know the drill.  


You thought it would be fun to work in sales after you graduated from university; you would travel around the country, meeting new people, holding meetings in fancy high rise office buildings in big cities, wining and dining clients at gourmet restaurants while you closed deals and made boatloads of money.  The reality was that you were selling industrial wastewater management systems, making a moderate income, while traveling four days a week to factories and chemical refineries in some of the least glamorous locations on earth.  You didn’t mind the work itself, but the evenings alone in small town hotel rooms were dull and disheartening, so you would frequently head out to a local movie theater or neighborhood bar to distract yourself from the loneliness on the road.   

 It was pouring down rain outside and you decide to run to the closest place you could find to grab a drink, rather than risk driving around and getting lost.  That’s how you found yourself sitting alone at the bar of the Applebee’s restaurant that was adjacent to your hotel, sipping on something called a Blue Hawaiian, in a town you couldn’t even remember the name of.   

Unruly children sat with their families having dinner in the nearby booths, while innocuously bland pop songs played overhead.  You took one sip of the cloyingly sweet blue cocktail in front of you and immediately regretted your decision to come here tonight. Given the lousy week you had experienced, you would have been better off drinking cheap whiskey at a dive bar filled with unapologetic alcoholics.  Here, the family friendly atmosphere mixed with the empty promises of a fruity cocktail that was designed to trick you into thinking you were on a tropical island vacation instead of in your real life.  Your real crappy life. 

You had totally blown the sale today.  The clients had a million questions about the technical specifications of the products you were trying to sell, but you kept tripping over your words and making yourself sound like an idiot.  You blamed your poor work performance on lack of sleep.  And you blamed the lack of sleep on your boyfriend, David.  Actually, he was your ex-boyfriend now.  After more than a year together, you dumped him for cheating on you.  

He claimed he was faithful, but you were certain he was lying.  He never picked up his phone when you called him from out on the road.  He would eventually call you back, but his stories about where he was and what he was doing always sounded a little off.  The final blow came when your friend Stephanie told you she saw him going into a movie theater with another girl.  David claimed Stephanie was mistaken and that you were just paranoid and jealous for no reason.  You wanted to believe him, but deep down you were sure that Stephanie was right.  All the unresolved questions you had about what David was doing while you were working could easily be answered if he had been cheating on you.  David cried when you told him it was over, he begged you to reconsider, but you were resolute and just walked away.

That had been a week ago, and every day since then, you questioned whether or not you made the right decision.  You had no hard proof that he had been unfaithful.  Sure, Stephanie said she saw him, but she only saw from a distance.  Maybe she was mistaken.  Maybe it was just someone who looked like David.

“Is this seat taken?”

Keep reading

She’s Just Not That Into You » Part I (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

First and foremost, I need to dedicate this miniseries to @stylesunchained​. If it weren’t for B, this idea would’ve never come to fruition. It’s been so lovely to torture you with snippets of this story, and now it’s finally here! And yes, the whole damn thing is dedicated to you, my beautiful friend.

Secondly, I need to take the time to thank @cuddlemusclestyles​ for her knowledge of England and always answering my questions about it. I would be lost without you, for you are my own personal Google.

And, of course, thank you all for the interest you’ve expressed for this miniseries. It’s always that much more enjoyable to write when you know you’ve got people rooting for you. I hope I don’t disappoint you.

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by chillhopdotcom

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sterek, Glasses. Magic. Diner.

Filling Prompts Live Nightly!

——-

Derek fiddled with the fragile pair of glasses Stiles had unofficially borrowed from Deaton after Allison had borrowed them without permission from her father. They were, according to Allison, a magical artifact that was somehow supposed to help the wearer to see the truth. As this would more than likely reveal werewolves without any guesswork, it was understandable that none of them wanted such an artifact in the hands of hunters, even one that had agreed to a tentative truce.

So now they were here, hiding at a diner Derek normally wouldn’t be caught dead at, looking for answers. Stiles was flipping through pages of a book he had also questionably borrowed, reading about curses and enchantments, so that they could tell if the glasses were even safe to put on at all.

“Wow, it’s like really unhelpful,” Stiles said around his mouthful of curly fries. He laid the book down and spun it so Derek could read, even though he said it aloud anyway. “Enchantments aid the intended user, curses aid the original caster. For example, a truth enchantment would reveal the truth to the user, where as a truth curse would force the user to reveal the truth to the caster.”

“How do you tell the difference, if you didn’t cast the spell?” Derek asked, glancing down at the flowing script.

“Exactly,” Stiles said, like he won an argument, even though for once they were not arguing. “It doesn’t say. I guess someone’s just going to have to, like, put them on.”

“Are you volunteering?” Derek asked, raising a brow.

“To test unknown magic on myself?” Stiles returned, then scoffed. Derek could see him shifting to get ready to make a grab for the glasses, so he moved them enough Stiles had to reconsider. “Oh, come on.”

“And what if they’re cursed?” Derek said, reasonably.

“Then you ask me embarrassing questions until I take them off,” Stiles answered immediately. He had thought about this, clearly. “They can’t be that dangerous if Chris didn’t lock them up.”

Derek relented with a sigh, because he really did not think that the glasses were actually harmful. And they did need to know what exactly they did. Stiles snatched them up greedily, unfolding the delicate arms with a grace he seemed to reserve only for magic, and slipped them onto his face. Derek couldn’t help the stray though zipping through his mind, that Stiles really did look cute in glasses.

“Oh,” Stiles said, small and big, when he looked at Derek. He swallowed, looking like he could see ghosts currently, and Derek figured that meant they’d been right. It would reveal werewolves.

“You’ve seen me wolf out,” Derek told him, holding out a hand to take the glasses.

“You love me,” Stiles said, hushed, and Derek’s blood ran cold as he looked up to meet Stiles’ eyes.

Oh, no. No no no.

“What?” Derek said, mouth dry, mind tailspinning.

“You love me,” Stiles repeated, reverently, not looking away.

“Stiles, I…” Derek shook his head, not sure what he could even say. Of course he did. He had for a while, but he’d never intended to say a word. He’d never intended to ruin what they had going, like he had ruined so many other things.

Stiles snatched the glasses off his nose like they’d burned him, and if they hadn’t been sitting in a booth, he’d have knocked the chair and table over in his scramble to get to his feet. Derek pulled back a little when Stiles came at him with the glasses, but he froze when Stiles did, and then allowed Stiles to place the glasses on him, instead.

With a heavy whump, Stiles sat back down across from him, staring at him with wide, urgent eyes. Derek blinked once, twice, and then he suddenly understood how Stiles knew. He could see it there, plain as day, in the way Stiles looked at him. In the beat of his heart, in the catch of his breath, in the quirk of his smile. Nothing had really changed, Derek couldn’t see anything actually different about Stiles while looking through the glasses, but he knew.

Stiles loved him, too.

“Please don’t think that I never care enough.” she said. “I know…I can’t blame you for feeling that way. As if someone took away one of your favorite pens. As if someone fastly grab your toothbrush or the spoon you’re about to take. As if you suddenly stopped doing the things you’re used to. I am sorry. I am really sorry if you’re feeling like that.” she stared at him for several minutes. Then she looked ahead and wiped a single tear that fell from her eyes. “But I was just like a glass of water. A glass you knew that will always be there for you. A sun you knew that will always be there every morning you woke up from tiredness, sadness and hopelessness. Yet, I felt the storm coming in. I felt the glass falling. I felt the cracks. I felt as if you meet someone new and suddenly you’re no longer looking for me. You’re no longer afraid to lose me.” she took a deep sigh. Pulling back all the tears she’s keeping inside. “Because if you’ll ask me, I…I will never blame you for not caring. I just…I just wanted you to know that I am human too. That once I was an echo, and I was dying to be heard too”.
—  ma.c.a // But If I run, would you chase me?

I say this again and again but, seriously more Shaggy, Velma&Scoobs in the show plz??? Like please??? They were freaking wonderful in SDWAY???

also i like the tallest and the shortest kids hanging around together thanks to dekaranger so sue me

Twisted Truth or Dare

Originally posted by tomshollandss

Series: Tom Holland Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Reader, Tom and Harrison have play dirty truth or dare 

Warning: Swearing, Sexual flirtation/actions

Word Count: 2,300

A/N: Hope you enjoy this babes.. btw I posted on my Twitter that my rest days will be Monday’s & Thursday! Also 100 more followers till I reach 2,000! 

Inspired by Naughty Girl by Queen B & Tequila :,)


[Reader’s POV]


    “Tom what’s the plan for tonight?” you ask curling your hair in the master bathroom mirror. Looking to the side to see he wasn’t even on the bed anymore. Setting the curler down on the marble counter you stand up. Ruffling the curls for a lil bit to lose them up a bit.


Where is he?


    Your phone dings making you look over at it. Seeing a snapchat notification flash across the screen. Sliding the bar to the left unlocking your phone with Touch ID. The app opens up to show a notification from Tom. Clicking it to see he was recording himself in the living room downstairs. 


    Walking out of your bathroom dressed in one of Tom’s t-shirts and some nike spanx . You were planning to go out but once you got done curling your hair you decided to just spend time with Tom. He was getting ready to take off for Chaos Walking.  He had to cut his hair and you were adjusting to see his hair shorter. 


    Heading out of the room towards the stairs,feet padding against the wood flooring. Taking each step careful cause you tend to slip every so often on the stairs. It was hard being clumsy. Hearing Tom’s voice coming from the living room, followed by laughter.


    Walking down the hallway that leads to your destination. You look at the pictures of you and Tom hung on the wall. A smile coming to your face as you look at the memories. Your hand touches the picture of Tom from when he had his curls. You did miss them but it’s hair and it will grow back.


    Turning you continue to walk to the living room. Harrison’s body comes into view as he holds a bottle of your cucumber and jalepeno vodka you recently bought. Tom gets up once he sees you enter the room, a huge smile on his face. He stumbles over to you pulling you in a hug. A gasp leaves your lips as his hands grip your ass.


“Tom!” you squeak out earning a chuckle from him. Looking up to see his cheeks pink and a silly grin on his face. 


He’s tipsy and soon to be drunk if they keep it at this rate.


“Darling c’mon and drink with me and Hazeroonie” Tom’s lips press against your forehead. He fills another bringing it over to you.


“C’mon drink up, lets play a game shall we?” a grin tugging at his lips as he takes a sip from the cup. His eyes widen making you laugh at his reaction.


“Jesus Tom, what kind of stuff does she drink?” he coughs looking between you and the cup. You quickly down the cup that was handed to you. Sticking out your tongue in a playful manner.


“I like things spicy and I love alcohol, so shut your trap and drink.. If not I’ll drink it cause that stuff isn’t cheap” getting out of Tom’s arms you make your way towards the vodka bottle. Picking it up I pour more into my cup than what he gave me the last time.


“She’s introduced me to more alcohols since we started drinking and do drinking games when we watch our shows” I raise my cup in agreeance at the many memories drinking with Tom.


“I sound like an alcoholic” I laugh out feeling a buzz coming along. The alcohol making its way through my system. There was something you loved about the feeling.


“What were you thinking of playing Haz?” Tom looks in his direction tilting his head to the side like a puppy would.


“How bout..we play Truth or Dare.. if you back out the dare you have to take a shot and if you don’t want to say the Truth question someone asks you.. You take a shot” He grins looking between you and Tom. Raising your cup agreeing but suddenly regretting seeing Tom and Harrison’s grins turn mischievous.


Fuck.


-


“Okay now that she’s on the same level as us, let’s begin” Harrison smiles sitting down on the carpeted floor.Tom pulls you next to him holding onto you,he’s so affectionate when he drinks. He presses a kiss against your cheek making you smile.


“Darlingg why don’t you go first” Tom says rubbing your hand with his thumb.


“Hmmm.. Truth or Dare Harrison?” you ask quirking up and eyebrow.


Truth


“…Have you ever had a sexual dream about me?” You could feel Tom’s hand gripping yours tighter. Harrison coughs from his drink, eyes widening from your question.


“You know this game is going to last a while.. do you want to take a shot or tell the truth?” the smirk on your face prominent. Harrison shifts nervously before making eye contact with you.


“I’ve had sexual dreams and thoughts about you” He says flinching because of Tom’s reaction. Tom was tense next to you making you look up at him.


“Seriously mate?” Tom lets go of you picking up his drink and a bottle of vodka.


“I’m trying to survive this game!” Harrison defends raising his hands up.


“Alright Tom, Truth or Dare?” Harrison asks looking over at his best mate.


“Since I’m not a pussy like you, Dare” Tom had confidence radiating off of him. Boi that’s about to be shut down real quick.


“Keep your hand on her inner thigh till your next turn but move it closer with each turn” Tom jokes how that wasn’t even a bad dare. It was definitely bad for you because alcohol and Tom touching you was your weak point. You bite your lip as Tom’s hand instantly places itself on your inner thigh. Sending a glare to a smirking Harrison, bastard.


   The questions get more intense when some of you dodge em by drinking. You were drunk now and now things could change here. Tom’s hand traveled closer and closer making your thoughts get dirty. Tessa laid down in the center of the circle, so innocent to what’s happening around her.


   Swearing went on when we Harrison dared me to strip in front of them on the stripper pole upstairs and do a dance on the pole.. Tom was upset cause you stripped down to your thong and bra. He shows his jealousy more when he gets intoxicated. Thankfully you did your makeup that night so you could look somewhat decent.


“Truth or Dare”


Truth” you hiccup out looking up at Harrison. Tom was currently in your clothes now and wearing your short Nike spanx. He looked so funny in them you couldn’t help but giggle when you looked over at him.


“How do you really feel about Tom’s hair?” Flinching from the look at the shot glass. You ran out of your vodka and were drinking Tom’s and the kind he has made you gag. It was too strong for you and you didn’t want a shot of it.


“I’m sorry baby, I like it and don’t like it.. I miss your curls especially grabbing onto them when you go down on me” you pout thinking of the last time he went down on you. Harrisons laughter fills the air at your confession.


“It’s just for this movie and I promise I’ll grow it back for you to grab onto it” Tom smiles pulling you over to him. You were in his shirt and sweatpants since the two of you swapped clothes. He puts you in his lap holding onto you.


“Darling, Truth or Dare?” Tom asks pressing kisses on your face making your eyes flutter open. Smiling up at him and poking his nose with your finger. Your action makes Tom laugh at your drunk behavior.


Dare Thomas” you slur with a smile on your face.


“Switch clothes with me and give me a lapdance while Harrison records” eyes widening at the dare he just told you. Harrison had to record?


“Why do I have to record?” Harrison groans falling onto his back letting out a long groan. He sounded like Tina from Bobs Burgers.


“That’s what you get for trying to get her to make out with you and the other time for daring her to strip on the stripper pole in the game room” Tom glares over at his groaning friend. He reaches over throwing a pillow hitting Harrison right in the crotch. Harrison lurches forward grabbing his crotch, face twisted in pain.


“Fuck, okay you twat I’ll do it” Harrison catches Tom’s phone that he tossed over to him. The two of you head towards the bathroom to change. Closing the door behind you and Tom. His back to you, looking down you see his ass hanging out. He probably has a better ass than you.


“Baby your ass was hanging out” you giggle poking his ass making him turn around.


“Bootylicious” He laughs striking a pose, he is such a goof.


   The two of you swapped clothes,now looking normal. He backs you up against the door making your breath hitch in your throat. Feeling his lips kiss your neck made you moan lightly. Tom’s lips travel up right below your ear. You could feel your heartbeat pounding harder.


“Put on a good show for me love” He whispers near your ear before exiting the bathroom. Standing in the bathroom flustered and drunk, not a fun mix.


   Composing yourself of your nerves that boiled up inside you. Pushing them away you look at your blurred self in the mirror. Fixing your hair a bit and making sure your makeup looked decent. Sighing in content you exit the bathroom. 

    Walking through the hall and seeing Tom sitting in the middle of the couch. The couch had enough space for Harrison to walk behind it if he wanted a different shot. Tom was chatting with Harrison that was adjusting the lights in the room. You guessed correctly cause he adjusted the lights behind the couch as well.


“Seriously you’re fixing the lights?” you laugh walking over to the JBL speaker Tom has. Turning on your bluetooth to sync up to it. Once it beeps you start scrolling through your songs.


“If I’m recording I’m doing it my way” Harrison defends with a chuckle. You could feel Tom’s stare burning into you.


“Plus this will give me something to watch when I’m away Angel” Tom’s nickname for you making a smile appear on your lips. He had many names for you but Darling and Angel were your favorites.


   Rolling your eyes at his comment. You knew he had to get off to something while he was away. You rather it be you than some other girl. Focusing back on your task of finding a song you head to your recently played songs. Your eyes landing on one of your favorites. 


    Bringing the speaker where Harrison was standing with Tom’s phone. Setting the speaker down and walking over to Tom holding your phone. Harrison gives you a thumbs up to start the music.The song starts playing loudly on the speaker.Tossing your phone to the side so it lands on the couch.


“Come to Daddy Angel” Tom grins patting his lap. Your cheeks tint a shade of pink from what he just said.


   Walking over to him hands lifting your shirt off letting it fall to the floor behind you. Swaying your hips as you slowly slide your shorts off. Tom’s eyes watching every movement that your body is making. His tongue flicks out and his lips press in a firm line, eyes slowly going down your body and back up. Sitting on his lap straddling him you start grinding against him slowly.


   Your fingers sliding down his chest ,feeling his abs through the shirt. A moan comes from Tom as your hips add more pressure to his growing erection. Biting your lip from the feeling of him underneath you. His head tilts back when he sees you biting your lip,he loved that.


   Tom’s hands grabbed onto your ass when you start kissing his neck. You could feel yourself getting damp from how aroused you were. His hand comes down slapping your ass hard. A moan escapes your lips from the contact. Tom groans as you go back to kissing and sucking on his neck.


“H-Harrison, you can end it ma- oh god yeah end the vi-video and maybe stay downstairs?” He lifts you up off the couch carrying you towards the stairs. He hisses when you bite the skin right at the base of his neck. Hearing the recording end and Harrison groan.


“You did that dare so you could get your dick wet didn’t you” Harrison’s tone full of annoyance. Tom stops looking over at Harrison. You press kisses to Tom’s jaw as he held you up. 


“Dude I’ve been gone for almost a month.. Of c-oh christ we’re going now” Tom not being able talk casually anymore. You tug what hair you could whining from the lack of affection he was giving you. 


    He sets you down so the two of you could go up the stairs. The two of you make your way upstairs towards the bedroom. Harrison picked up his backpack that was by the stairs.Tugging Tom along as he stumble a bit, a cheeky grin on his face.


“Tom please..” you beg when Tom turns around to look at Harrison about to leave. Kneeling on the stairs you bend down trying to get his attention. Giggling as you wiggle your ass his way looking back at him. Harrison’s eyes widen turning away from looking at you causing Tom to jump in shock. 


“Angel stop that! Not while he’s around!” Tom slaps your ass making you laugh and Tom smirk.


“I hate the both of you! I’m leaving!! LAST TIME I SUGGEST A DRINKING GAME!” Harrison shouts before slamming the door behind him. Leaving the house where the two of you had a lot of catching up to do.

So I got bored and checked the weather for both Almaty and St. Petersburg and they're hilariously different so here's an otayuri drabble

Why the hell Yakov was making him practice in this heat, Yuri had no idea. But he hated him for it.

Sure, it wasn’t drastically hot, but 19°C was hot for St. Petersburg, and Yuri could be enjoying the weather if A: it wasn’t so humid, and B: Yakov wasn’t making him practice.

Yuri tipped his head back, the vertebrae in his neck creaking and tense muscles stretching.

“Hey Yakov-”

“Give me a perfect triple axel into a spread eagle and you’re free to go.” The old man told him, drinking from the water bottle handed to him by Lilia.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Yuri said, exasperated. “In this heat?”

“Vitya’s been making Katsuki practice his quads all day, at least I’m not that cruel.” Yakov shrugged.

“Actually, I’m doing this voluntarily.” Yuuri called, taking off and landing a frustratingly perfect quad flip.

“I’ve been trying to make him come home for hours Yakov, this is none of my doing.” Viktor groaned, leaning against the barrier and wiping his brow.

“You said it yourself Vitya,” Yuuri shrugged, pulling off an effortless triple axel into a spread eagle. “I’m going to need to try my best to beat you.”

“I’ve created a monster. I’m doomed.” Viktor sighed defeatedly, gazing at Yuuri.

“And Yurio-” He started, trailing lazily around the rink.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m not stopping until I have both records, so I suggest you watch yourself.”

“Getting cocky, now are we, Katsudon?” Yuri asked, cocking a brow.

“Well it’s not the only thing I’m getting.” Yuuri shrugged, taking off into a perfect quad salchow, winking at Viktor as he landed.

“What the fuck have you done to him, Vitkor?” Yuri asked, slightly disgusted at the innuendo.

“I don’t know!” Viktor said exasperatedly.

“Alright, that’s it.” Yakov sighed. “Katsuki, get your ass out of my rink before you kill yourself.”

“I’m not even tired though.” Yuuri sighed, taking off into a quad loop.

“You’re hell bent on destroying my skaters and I can’t have that. Get out before you hurt yourself.” Yakov said firmly.

“But-”

“Yuuri.” Mila started. “We adore you, you’re sweet and talented and everything but with every jump you land, Yakov pushes us that much harder, so please, for the love of god, get the fuck out of the rink.”

“Okay, okay.” Yuuri sighed, finally skating off of the rink, Mila earning an exhausted ‘thank you’ from Viktor, who followed behind Yuuri.

“Yura. Triple axel. Now.” Yakov said firmly, folding his arms.

“Seriously?!”

“Yes. Now.”

“I’d like to see you do it, old man.” Yuri huffed, crossing his arms.

“Just do it, Yuri.” Yuuri called. “Anyway, we’re leaving for today, guys.”

“Finally!” Georgi groaned.

“Please take like, the next week off, you’re making us look bad.” Mila joked.

“No actually do, you’re driving me insane.” Yuri called.

“And Yakov said I couldn’t coach anyone.” Viktor smirked, pecking Yuuri on the cheek.

“Just leave already.” Yakov sighed. “Yuri, triple axel. I’m waiting.”

“For fucks sake, do I have to?”

“Do you want to lose the Olympics?”

“… fine.”

“That’s what I thought.”


Yuri unlocked his dorm, dumping his duffle bag at the door and kicking his shoes off. It’d been a week since Yakov and Lilia’s asshole of a son kicked Yuri out of his mother’s house.

He stalked over the mini fridge in the corner of his room, opening it and pulling out a cold can of fanta, wrenching open the tab and flopping down on his bed.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and opening up whatsapp, ignoring the 689 missed texts from the Barcelona GPF group chat and scrolling to Otabek’s contact, selecting video call.

Otabek picked up after around the 3rd ring, and the imagine Yuri was greeted with wasn’t what he expected.

A flushed, tanned, sweaty, muscular chest and a giggling little girl in the background. The camera shakily carried up to Otabek’s face, where it was obvious that he older boy was fast asleep.

“Bekaaaa!” Giggled the little girl, a bony little hand with garish pink nail polish and ratty bracelets pressing down on Otabek’s chest. “Oyanw! Beka! Käne Beka!”

Otabek made a weird noise between a snort and a squawk, eyes snapping open suddenly as he lurched forwards.

“Sälem aytşı Yura!” The little girl giggled.

“Natya…” Otabek murmured groggily. “Nege telefonım bar?” He asked, reaching for the phone and pulling the little girl to the side. “Bul öte jaramsız.” He scolded, blowing a raspberry into the little girl’s cheek.

“Um… is this a bad time?” Yuri asked awkwardly, taking a sip from his soda can. “I can go…”

“Crap! Yura, I forgot. Sorry, I fell asleep and my little sister took my phone-”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Yuri shrugged. “It’s kinda cute.”

Otabek laughed, ruffling his sister’s messy black hair.

“Sälem Yura!” She grinned, waving at the screen.

“She says hi.” Otabek grinned, translating.

“Hi Natalia.” Yuri smiled, waving back, earning a gap-toothed grin from the little girl.

“Natya, Siz bizden kete alasız ba?” Otabek asked his sister, slipping back into his native tongue.

She nodded, waving at the screen.

“Bayt Yura!” She giggled, running off.

“She’s adorable.” Yuri smiled, sipping from the can again.

“I know.” Otabek grinned.

“Did you teach her to call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“To call me Yura?”

“She’s called you that since she saw you on TV at the Russian Nationals two years ago.”

“Why though?”

“Don’t look at me, she just does.”

Oh, Yuri was look at him.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Huh?”

“You’re half naked. At least I think you are… I can only see your chest.”

“I’m wearing underwear if that’s what you’re asking.” Otabek snorted, flashing Yuri a crooked grin.

“Really? No pants?”

“It’s too hot.” Otabek shrugged, reaching for a something offscreen and bringing a glass of water to his lips.

“Seriously? Isn’t it like, 19°C? Kinda pathetic. And that’s coming from a Moscow native.”

“It’s 36°C over here.” Otabek said flatly.

“Damn, your coach makes you practice in that heat?” Yuri asked incredulously.

“Nah. Training’s cancelled. He’s passed out in the porch.”

“Lucky bastard. Yakov’s been forcing me to train.” Yuri huffed.

“Watch your language, Yura. My family is in the vicinity.”

“I’m like 300 miles away they can’t hurt me.”

“My cousin will find you. You know what Aleks is like.”

“And I hope you boys are keeping it PG-13!” Came the call of cousin in the background, causing Otabek to flush slightly.

“ALEKS!”

“I’m just saying! Your mother wouldn’t be too happy if she saw you-”

“Aleks, sabırlılıqtı toqtatıñız Beka!” Came a call.

“Dude I can hear like, your entire family, where are you?”

“In my back yard.” He shrugged, switching the camera so Yuri could get a view of the lush, green garden, and the hammock Otabek was laying in.

“Its huge!” Yuri gasped. “Your family must be loaded!”

“My mother was an Olympic silver medalist. That kind of set us up for quite a while, then I started to send money home whenever I got it.” Otabek shrugged. “Joq, Natya, şlangini tömenge ornatıñız!”

Yuri heard giggling in the background, along with running water. Otabek shifted, the camera shaking a bit as he moved.

“My sister has a hose, I’m going inside.” He explained as a jet of water splashed behind him. “Nope nope nope nope. Not today.”

“Are you afraid of getting wet, Beka?”

“No I just don’t want to get- AH!”

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked, cocking an eyebrow at the maniacal cackling heard in the background.

“Yeah, my sister just got me in the ass while I was running inside.”

“Damn, good aim.”

“Yeah,” He said, camera shaking as he went up the stairs, opening the door to his room and pushing in. “Yura?”

“Still here.”

“I’m gonna need to change but I’m too lazy to disconnect the call, can I just put you against a pillow so you don’t see anything?”

“Sure.” Yuri shrugged, tossing his empty soda can into the trash.

The screen went a dark reddish-brown colour as it was pressed against the pillow, the camera suddenly flipping just as the screen went black.

Yuri could see Otabek pull away, turning around and pulling down the damp, dark grey boxers.

What the hell was Yuri supposed to do?!

The rational thing to would be to tell Otabek 'hey the camera accidentally flipped and I can see your ass and probably dick but I’m not sure’, but for some reason Yuri couldn’t speak.

Otabek turned in the direction of the camera, humming to himself as he stopped up the boxers and tossed them into the laundry hamper at the edge of his room, walking over to a chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of boxers.

Otabek quickly pulled the boxers on, rooting through the drawers and pulling out some shorts and a t-shirt, putting those on too.

He reached for the camera, which suddenly flipped back to front facing as it was being pulled away from the pillow.

“Sorry I took so long- Yura, are you okay?” Otabek asked, suddenly concerned.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. Why are you asking me?” Yuri stammered awkwardly.

“Your face, it’s all… red. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine! I’m just a bit hot and sweaty from practice, I should probably shower.” Yuri said quickly.

“Okay…” Otabek murmured, unconvinced. “If you don’t feel better after the shower, call Viktor or Yuuri or someone like that. And make sure you drink a lot of water. And eat properly. None of that energy bar nonsense-”

“Okay mom, jeez. I’m fine, really.” Yuri said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t get smart with me, young man.” Otabek said jokingly.

Yuri rolled his eyes, snorting.

“Bye Beka.”

“I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll call you later.”

“I really can’t stop you can I?”

“Nope.”

Yuri laughed, ending the call and flinging his phone onto the other end of the bed and pressing his hands into his face.

Otabek is hung like a fucking horse.

——-

I just winged it ok sorry

POT Dating Tips

1. Always confirm the same day that you guys are meeting. These men have crazy schedules and they can cancel on you same day, best to know before you do your hair & makeup. 

2. Never drive or uber a long distance to meet them. They should offer to come to you and if they don’t they should offer to uber you. I always get ubered to my dates, I never give them my real address obviously but somewhere close that I could walk or a place I could drive to and leave my car. Driving or ubering a far distance because he said he would reimburse you isn’t worth the risk. These men ain’t shit! they will lie to you. Don’t risk being out of gas or money, never worth it. 

3. Always vet them before you meet them, nothing worse than going on POT date to find out he wants to pay you 200 per meeting. ASk questions nothing to invasive but just enough to see if can meet your needs. If you want monthly allowances make sure he’s open to that. IF he wants to do per meet to start, discuss how much. You can obviously negotiate a better price in person, but make sure you guys are in the same range $$$.  Don't’ waste your hair/makeup and a cute outfit on a fuck boy who thinks he’s a sugar daddy. NEVER go on the POT with someone who gives you weird vibes, I mean if he’s weird over the phone he probably won’t be better in person, nothing is worth your safety. 

4. Be cute but comfortable, Opt for the heels that are more comfortable over the ones that may look better with the outfit.  Nothing worst than being out and having your feet hurt the entire time. 

5. Be sexy and alluring without showing too much. I have big boobs so no matter what I wear their gonna show, but I always wear dresses that aren’t  too tight or show that much cleavage. He may want to take you to social events with his colleagues or friends, you don’t want to show up on your first encounter with your boobs out or a dress that barely covers your ass. You want to give off a lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets vibe. You don’t have to spend much to look great, Forever 21 or Zara has great dress options that are affordable. Macy’s always has in store sales on shoes ( Got a couple of heels from there), DSW also. A little black dress with some cute heels and some simple accessories can go a long way, ladies. For new sugars, you can spend under 100 bucks buy a cute outfit that you can re-wear to multiple POT dates. Ball on a budget until you can get him to take you, to Saks ;)

6. Knowledge is key! reading book  Ho Tactics and the art of seduction has really stepped my sugar skills up. Body language and confidence is everything! This may sound silly but I practice my faces in the mirror so I can get an idea of what I’m looking like when I say certain things, also what angles i look best in so I know how to tilt my head or smile. You have to mindfuck these to give you everything you want but never had. I always give eye contact it shows that you are really engaged it also turns guys on. I always order martinis or wine because of the way the glass fit in your hand. Eating a  olive off a  toothpick while eye fucking a guy will drive him crazy. Always ask follow up questions, whens he’s going on and on about his job or life, in general, show that your interested make comments be engaging. Also, brush up on current events, I use the SKIMM to help keep me up to date on current events. Be pretty but also cultured.

7. Always choose a high-end restaurant in your area. I usually yelp and look for restaurants with $$$ that has the best reviews, I legit have been to areas in D.C that I wouldn’t have been able to afford or even heard of. Set your standards high and don’t lower them. Don’t ever go out with a guy who thinks going to some cheap chain restaurant is acceptable. Like your makeup shouldn’t cost more than the menu. Gain knowledge on the nicest spots in your area, if he wants to take you somewhere lower end that’s the easiest way to spot a Splenda. If it doesn’t go anywhere at least you got to go to a nice ass restaurant, ate some good ass food, and drank some wine that cost as much your textbooks. Still a win. 

8. If you’re meeting for a quick date such as Starbucks ( which I don’t even recommend, they give me Splenda vibes)  make sure you choose a time when it’s not too pack. You don’t want to walk into a packed Starbucks with the line to door and no seats for your first date it sets an awkward tone. You want to be in a quiet setting where you can discuss the arrangement privately, without random people walking by every minute.  Choose a time after lunch, or later in the evening. 

9.Safety First! Never give out private information, give out fake email address, phone numbers, etc. The only thing I’m truthful about is that I’m a student and my age. Never get into a POT car, or go back to his place. I also send my friends my location so they know where I’m at all times. Also download a safety app, very useful. If a guy gives you weird vibe excuse yourself to the bathroom and call a uber, try to find a different exit and leave his ass. Never meet up in a sketchy area or place. Make sure the place is public and that it is quiet but moderately packed. Never meet up too late in the night, and don't’ over a drink. Overdrinking puts you in a bad head space which can lead to a bad situation that could be unsafe. I have no more than 3 cocktails on date depending on the time we are together. These sites are filled with psychos, be careful !. 

10. Last but not least Never give up the pussy until you get yours. Things happen maybe you drank too much, or he was really cute so the chemistry was there but it is never a good idea to sleep with POT before the arrangement has been hashed out.  This is not normal dating and he is not your bf. Unless he’s paying your bills, tuition, rent or aiding your makeup addiction why does he deserve pussy???? Always get your first, these men will fuck and dip out never to be seen again. GIving him quick access will not get your bills paid sis, don’t do it. Before you think about giving him some think about your rent that’s about to be due, the tuition you still have to pay, that car payment, or Rihanna new makeup line that’s about to drop.  Pussy is power use it wisely!

Feel free to add on ladies. Pusssy is power, let’s encourage each other and help each other to mindfuck these men! #TeamVagina

Who is D.O?

♡ Do kyungsoo

♡ “penguin”

♡ Also “satansoo”

♡ A free soul

♡ I wanna say that god really took his time on him

♡ he looks good in whatever he wears

♡ is nice and kind towards people

♡ soft voice 

♡ is good at acting

♡ cooks

♡ everybody loves him

♡ *cries while hugging a plush penguin*

Originally posted by kyungsuhos

♡ He’s actually the devil

♡ Suho is savage but he is compared nothing to kyungsoo

♡ “Chanyeol,you’re not funny”

♡ “If I open my mouth you’re finished”

♡”It’s not even funny so just move on” to suho

♡ “It’s true that i don’t talk much but that was just me ignoring you” to chan

he really hates him lol

♡ “The situation of two people liking each other hurts my head and i don’t like it”

♡ “I wish chen would be more serious.He’s no fun”

♡ “Do you even have friends?” to an actress

Originally posted by 3x0ismystyle

♡ People think that he’s staring at them

♡ but actually has a bad eyesight

♡ wears glasses

but i’m pretty sure he stares at people like that

Originally posted by veriloquentmind

♡ I’m telling y’all he’s no joke

♡ You may not believe it but he’s a lost penguin in real life

♡ A wise man once said “squishy”

♡ He’s soooooooo cute

♡ So fluffy

Originally posted by emommoma

♡ He used to disagree with the fact that he’s super cute but he accepted it in Ex’ordium Seoul Dot

*screams fuck yes and awwww at the same time*

♡ He is a ball made full of fluff,cutesy and love

♡ He is the actor of exo along with lay

♡ He hangs out with all those hot actors out there

Kim woo bin and minho

♡ Park Shin Hye

♡ In an interview,Lee Kwang Soo said that Kim woo Bin loves him so much

♡ “to the point where he’ll say kyungsoo my dear love,where are you?”

♡ Kim woo bin also said that their group chat went wild when Hyung was the most watched movie in korea for 3 weeks

♡ THEY HAVE A GROUP CHAT Y’ALL

♡ NO I’M NOT FUCKING JEALOUS

♡ Won 3 awards for his acting

♡ Is now filming a musical 

♡ includes tap dance

♡ He is famous of

♡ He also cooks well

he is literally perfect

♡ He was the one who cooked for the members since their debut

♡ I bet he still does

♡ He actually has to

♡ Coz

♡ His voice is smooth as fuck

♡ soft as honey

♡ He literally has a voice from heaven

♡ “Tell me what is love”

♡ No more words needed

♡ Also sang for his movie Hyung

♡ “Scream” CART OST

♡ Has a blessed voice

♡ His relationship with members

Here we go booiiii

♡ He hates Chanyeol

♡ so much

♡ but loves him as much

♡ still,hates him

♡ They’re tom and jerry

♡ They actually have a love relationship behind all those fights

and chokings

♡ Every exo-l’s heart flutters when we see both of them happily getting on together

Originally posted by ethereal-baek

♡ Chanyeol confessed him many times

♡ choose him whenever on whichever event

♡ ksoo rejected

♡ coz he got kai

♡ or chan is already his secret one-night-stand

Originally posted by moontaevhyung

kaisoo

♡ the real shit

♡ He’s a hoe for kai

♡ A really big one

♡ Kai is also a hoe for ksoo

♡ they’re the married couple along with xiuchen

♡ they don’t hide it

♡ they stare at each other

♡ they dance to playboy together

♡ they mention about each other on a individual broadcast

♡ they actually have fun together

♡ they seriously have a lovely relationship

Originally posted by k-craze

♡ happy penguin and his ethereal husband

♡ He is yet another member of exo who looks like a korean god

Originally posted by noutsuretho

♡ kaisoo strikes again

♡ The thing about him is that he can go sexysoo to fluffy penguin in 0.2 seconds

Originally posted by theonly-vagina-kyungsoo-will-fuk

♡ See?

♡ He literally looks so good in anything

♡ A coat

♡ A jacket

♡ A shirt

No shirt

♡ Pantless soo is my new fav thing

♡ He looks gooooooood

♡ His dance is amazing

♡ isn’t appreciated enough

Originally posted by ohyaahkkaebsong

♡ is the member who’s forced to do embarrassing stuff but ends up being cute

Originally posted by minniedeer

♡ He has a lovely relationship with any member who isn’t trying to be funny

Originally posted by im-a-loser-carry-on

♡ If you watch an exo interview,it may seem like soo only loves kai and yixing

the truth

♡ He adores every member

♡ He also loves Yoo jae suk

♡ He’s the only exo member who didn’t show his abs and dyed his hair

♡ P R O T E C T  T H I S  B O Y 

♡ He’s the squishy satan who we all love and protect

♡ And even though he doesn’t say all the time,he appreciates all of exols and loves us so much

♡ just like we love him

Originally posted by jonginssoo

Blurred Vision

Lance usually loved picture day, as a self proclaimed pretty boy it really was his time to shine.
That would be if he hadn’t of loses his contacts that morning and the only glasses he had were a pair of thick black wide frames that made him look like someone dressing up as a dork for Halloween.
He never used to mind wearing glasses, but after he started high school, other people latched onto somthing to tease him about and well… there’s only so many times you can come back and find bi-eyes written across your locker before enough enough.

Lance had hoped to never have to go to school wearing his glasses again, however since he was legally blind without them he didn’t really have much choice.

————-
“McClain!” Iverson Lance’s hated home room teacher yelled as Lance slipped into the class room “your late!”
“Yeah I had to-”
“No excuses! March to the principles office and hand over those joke glasses this instant!”
Before Lance could protest Iverson had grabbed his glasses and shoved him into the hallway locking the door behind him.
Lance half wanted to just hammer on the door until he was let back in but he was already on thin ice with Iverson… he didn’t need an excuse to be expelled.
Lance sighed as he squinted trying to see to no avail.
“Ok… come on Lancy Lance, you’ve walked down this hallway a million times, you could do it blind folded.” He mumbled to himself as he slowly made his way down the hall.
For a little while everything was going fine, Lance even held his head up high thinking he could do this!
That was until he walked right into someone sending whoever they were flying and Lance stumbling back.
“WHAT THE HELL MY COMPUTER!”
Lance cringed he knew that voice.
It belonged to the scary smart Pidge.
They had joined the school a couple months ago and already had a reputation for ruining the lives of anyone that crossed them.
And Lance had just judging from the blurred pieces on the floor, that their precious computer had been broken.
“Oh… man I’m so sorry.”
“You will be!” Pidge yelled standing up and poking Lance in the chest.
“You think you can purposely bump into me and get away with it!”
Wait…
Oh no they thought it was on purpose!
“H-hang on a second! It was an accident!”
“Please, you were looking right at me!”
Lance felt his heat beat speed up and he took a couple steps back.
“I didn’t see you I swear!”
“Yeah sure you didn’t! I know your type, pretty rich boy who’s had everything handed to him on a silver platter! Well I won’t let you push me around!” Pidge sounded so angry but also a note of pain to their voice…
Had they been bullied too in the past?
“I really didn’t see you!” Lance tried but he doubted they believed him.
He was finding it hard to breath as the familiar sensation of a panic attack came on.
He had to get out of here.
Lance spin on his heals and started to run, he couldn’t see where he was going but at the time he didn’t care.
“LOOK OUT!”
Lance turned his head in the direction of Pidge’s voice as his feet slipped out from under him and the last thing he rembered was staring up at the blurry ceiling and cursing himself for forgetting about the stairs, before suddenly their was pain… then nothing.
———————-

Lance woke up to someone slipping something into his face.
He couldn’t figure out what it was, his whole body felt heavy and like his mind was disconnected from his body.
Lance forced his eyes open only to wince at the intense light above him.
The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t looking at his bedroom ceiling, also that he could actually see.
Suddenly as Lance tried to move an intense pain throbbing throughout his whole body became known.
He groaned but continued to try and sit up.
“Your awake!”
Lance made a small noise of pain as he moved to look at Pidge a little surprised to see them sitting at the edge of his bed looking worried.
“Y-yeah… what happened?” He asked rubbing his head only to find it bandaged.
“You… you fell down two flights of stairs. Got a pretty bad concussion and maybe a broken rib or two. An ambulance is on its way.” Pidge looked down looking at their hands.
Lance couldn’t understand why he could see then he realised someone must of gotten his glasses…
Was it Pidge.
“I’m sorry.” Lance smiled as he sat up in the bed wincing at the protest from his ribs.
“What! Why?” Pidge asked.
“Broke your computer.” Lance shrugged.
When did he get so tired?
Pidge sighed running a hand through her short messy hair “it wasn’t your fault… I checked out your prescription. Man it’s no wonder you bumped into me. Your like super blind.”
Lance cringed “yeah… still sorry though. Please don’t… don’t hack in and use ‘puter powers to ruin my life.” Lance slurred finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.
“Hu?… oh that” Pidge chuckled “they wouldn’t stop misgendering even after I told them I’m gender neutral. I only changed their grades back from what they payed me to do.”
“Oh…”
“Guess we both misjudged eachother?”
“Guess so.” Lance smiled wondering why the world was getting blurry if he was still wearing his glasses.
“Lance?”
Pidge’s voice sounded distant and muffled like he was underwater.
He saw their eyes widen in horror as Lance slumped backwards.
He could see her yelling and a group of people came running in wearing green uniforms pulling a what Lance thought looked like a bed on wheels.
That was a funny thought.
Lance was sure he had only blinked.
But when he opened his eyes again he was lying in a hospital bed with Hunk standing over him.
“Hunk?”
“Oh thanks god Lance!” Hunk yelled hugging him causing Lance to cry out in pain.
“Ribs buddy, ribs!”
Hunk let go sheepishly “sorry… but when I got a call from your mom that you were sent to hospital I was so worried! Why the hell weren’t you wearing your contacts or glasses!”
Lance shrugged “Ivserson confiscated my glasses and I couldn’t find my contacts this morning.”
A look of anger crossed Hunks usually kind features.
Suddenly a thought came to Lance’s mind.
How did Pidge get his glasses back?
“Oh yeah you had a visitor a while ago. They left you a card.” Hunks easy smile returned as he handed over a folded piece of lined paper acting as a crude card.
Lance opened it and chuckled quietly to himself.

'Dear Lance,
Sorry for scaring you to the point of you trying to fly away, don’t do that again or I will use my hacking powers to ruin your life.
-Pidge.
Ps. Don’t worry about Iverson, I tatted him out to Principle Coran. Us four eyes gotta stick together.’

Lance smiled as he placed the card on his bed side table making a mental note to offer to get their computer fixed later on.