“make the princess speak and you will have the crown of kings.”
my knees hurt, as usual, from scrubbing. technically i’m too high of Maid Station to help out with these things, but i like seeing what happens when you clean. the development of things. how a lot of effort can make something. i like learning and trying and working hard to get towards something.
and i’ve seen them, from the back of pillars, from behind cracked doors, from beside her (on the best days) the way they talk to her. oh beautiful won’t you just look at me. oh darling. if you speak i’ll be your prince. if you speak i’ll be your king.
the princess, i know, finds the lines of suitors boring. it’s in the way her hands are always moving. she hides yawns, leaves early, we make her apologies. once, a man comes and tries to startle her into screaming. she rolls her eyes and looks directly at me. i have to hide my smile behind my sleeve. he is taken away while still screaming.
by accident, i find her once, crying. when we imagine princesses, they always cry daintily. hers is hoarse, angry, and something in it breaks me. in my station i should apologize and bow and leave. instead i am frozen, watching her shoulders heaving.
she looks up and spots me, her cheeks ruddy. i know i should go but instead i make a big show. i act as one of her princes. i make grand gestures and speak in deep voices. i frantically offer her handkerchiefs and trip over my own two feet. a smile crawls up over her, slowly. i dab my sweat away and offer her the used rag. i feign a fluster, turn a terrible cartwheel, make shadow puppets. the sound of her laugh, raw and rusty, sends shivers through me.
for a while, i do not see her after this. but then i am called to her chambers. she is crying again. i offer silly gifts, pebbles and dusting rags and a candlestick from her own kitchen, pretend to steal it, use it as a hat, rock it as a babe. she laughs more easily this time, gladly, and when she laughs i am taken by more important maids, thereby officially Excused.
it goes like this for months. the winter comes. i rarely see her. i spend my week thinking about ways to please her. i knick interesting cookies, show her shiny buttons, learn to cartwheel in a full skirt, and then promptly how to make it look foolish again. i learn how to juggle hot bread and dance as a man would, i learn how to balance on a ball and how to fall down without hurting myself, how to fake a fight with my own body, which colors she likes and which don’t please her.
i show up on a cold eve with a knotted line of scarves hidden down my sleeve, worried and breathless, wondering why she’s been crying. the door opens and she is sitting there, happy. at first i’m confused, but she waves me in. next to her is her small dessert, in two containers. i’m not sure how to respond, so i fake a fall to hear her laugh, and then sit at her feet. she gives me ice cream - so rare a treat. i know what went into making it - the hours of shaking. it’s smooth and tasty. i don’t feign my reaction, but she laughs anyway, kindly.
it goes like this. i see her more frequently. she likes giving me new things, watching me discover i hate kiwi and love oranges and would die if it made her laugh breathlessly. i’ve made her keel over with cackling and she’s put a fire in me. sometimes we just sit there, quietly, enjoying each other’s company.
it’s in her hands, always moving. little things i thought were just her, fidgeting. here’s how she says she’s thirsty, this is what her hands do when she needs a second to think, here’s how she shows she’s happy. this is how i learn to speak back to her. around her i spend much of my time smiling. i feel every visit is a gift. a new part to unravel. i find out she doesn’t respond to spoken things, that she needs to be looking in order to know you were speaking. sometimes she has me talk and she holds her hands to the base of my throat, her eyes wide and wondering. sometimes she just looks at me and i forget that i’m her jester in chief. i get caught up in her eyes, in how expressive they are when she’s happy, in how when she’s sad i feel like i’m drowning.
i never see the king or queen, but i know when she’s had a visit with them, because she never comes back happy. two winters i have known her, two winters and now we dine frequently. i am often called to stand beside her, to whisper translations of her desires into the ears of someone more important than i, someone who gets to be the voice of royalty. i can’t decide if i’m her friend or her plaything, but i don’t know i care much of the distinction. every moment i’m near her is a moment free of friction. i take stock of suitors and curtsy to them in daylight only to mock them in the candle’s eye later.
she asks me one night to stay. it has been a bad day. it’s completely not okay. i cannot say no but i cannot, by my station, stay. but she begs with her eyes and her hands and i know i’ll take the punishment.
we lie beside each other. i make sure to turn to her when i speak. in the dark she can’t see me, so i move my hands in the way i’m learning. she asks if i am ever lonely. i cannot tell her that i am always lonely without her beside me, so instead i say i think all people are very lonely and just are pretending. she laughs a little at that and says she thinks her parents are the two most lonely people that ever met. her mother was like her; broke a fairy curse and talked, just once, although nobody knows what she said. well, excepting her father, who was the only one around, and who won her hand in marriage.
from her mother she learned the art of hands, of speaking without words - from her father she learned that who she was included a curse. that she just wanted someone who would make her open like a rose - someone who could fix her. how she stared out into the royal garden and wished on flowers to be what her kingdom needs.
she fell asleep pressed against me. i couldn’t breathe. i was still awake in the morning.
the punishment never came. we spent nights like this. the handmaidens had grown to know me. whenever their princess was stubborn, i worked magic and made her lovely.
it was a terrible thing. i did too good a job, i think. the princess glowed too much or shone too brightly - or at least, i saw it that way, so who knows what the truth is. every day it felt like we were being rushed with princes.
her father’s temper at hosting failed. it was the day before her twenty-first birthday and first time i’d ever seen him. he stormed in at the end of the session. “just speak!” he said, “it’s not that hard! do for others what your mother did!”
“tomorrow is your last day of this,” he warned her, “either you pick a prince or i pick for you. i’m done with it.”
he stormed off. she was left shellshocked and trembling. that night she didn’t ask me to come, but i waited outside, just in case she changed her mind. i understood why she needed space. either she’d speak and be married tomorrow or she’d be married shortly. i heard her crying and it took everything in my power not to rush in and hold her, cradle her gently. but i cannot come into a room of a royal person without being invited. i stayed there, tears in my own eyes, thinking of treason.
the next day was a huge festival. what had been a birthday celebration was turned into a day about princes. i watched her shake her head. i tried to cheer her up. i tried everything. i frequently came inches from causing public humiliation, toed the line of mocking and failing to acknowledge my station. she wouldn’t smile. not once. not even for anything.
the day was long. the bonfire wore down. i watched her crumple into herself. i was out of ideas. i knelt at her feet. her eyes barely looked at me. just wait, i said to her with my hands, i’ll be right back. i took off running.
the price of stealing is losing my hands. these things that i spoke to her with. these things that mattered so much to me, that helped with my comedy and cleaning.
i didn’t think of them. i bloodied my fingers when i ripped the royal roses from their stems. and then i ran, as fast as i could, back to her feet. i picked them to show you, i said, as she gasped, looking at my treason, they’re beautiful and nobody told them to open to reveal their secrets to the bees. they are unbroken. as you are. as you always will be.
she fell off her throne and for a second i was beyond speaking, worried something had happened, or she’d fainted, or i’d said the wrong thing. but then she was on her knees, her arms around me, and i heard it. i heard the soft croak of her speaking. just one word, and it sent shivers down me. my name, in her voice, awkward and unwieldy, but full of love and passion, burning fire through me.
i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled away from her. they already had me in handcuffs while i struggled to get back to her, to tell her i loved her, to beg her to run off with me or maybe just hold me around her, maybe just have her for a moment, because i couldn’t live without her for a moment longer.
they put me in the cells. i rotted in there, for a while or for no time at all, i’m not sure. the thorns scarred my palms. i watched the scabs build up and flake off. every time someone came down, i flinched, wondering if i would be the next to be taken and chopped into bits.
but one day the light was different. not the smoky torch of the jailer, instead a bright light in a lantern. at first when i saw her, my breath caught in my throat, mistaking her for my princess.
but she was my queen. at first we stood in silence. and slowly, i moved my hands to speak. is she married? is what came out, even though i should be more worried about me myself and me.
she is not. she bit her father on the arm when he tried to make her. then she fought him. and then ran away. it took us a bit to find her, i’m afraid. she threatened her own life and the life of everyone in this place. the queen was smiling. i was told there was a young woman who could make the princess speak, whom she would die to save, who brought roses to her feet. someone in a cell, rotting. are you her?
the memory of her voice rang through me. i’m she.
yes, her hands said, for even now, aren’t you speaking to the silent Queen?
she opened the door. come, she said, let’s get you cleaned up for the ceremony.
the crown of kings. when she wraps her arms around my neck and laughs next to me, i am royalty. when she smiles or makes a joke or asks to see my cartwheel again, i’m lost in her. i kiss her whenever i can, which is often. we have roses in a vase at the base of our bed, and for all of the kingdom, i’d give my hands if it would keep her laughing.
the next time she spoke was just once, at our wedding, where she said the two words i do to bind us for eternity. she had learned from me, from holding her hands over my voicebox, the way i learned from her how to use hands to speak. sometimes at night she says my name, just because she likes what it does to me.
i’m more blessed than a king. every day i spend with her is a day i spend happily.
1. The last time you made the mistake of making a home out of a pair of arms and a soft smile, you learned the hard way that anything that moves, that can blame, that can cause ache does not deserve such an elevated status in your heart. Still, you are an anomaly, a wild thing hoping for a home. A sailor wishing to leave the ocean and return.
2. I still remember a day when your father had lifted you in his arms and told you that you are loved, more than you ever know. It was two days before the plane crash that took him. It was two days before I saw death dance in your broken eyes for the first time. I don’t think it ever stopped dancing there.
3. Yesterday, someone asked you, “who do you trust most in the world?” And you felt that your lips were sewn shut. Everybody you should love and trusts’ names felt rough and raw on your tongue like they were in a foreign language that you had become too ancient to learn. So instead you whispered your own name like a secret into the abyss and hoped no one saw the sadness that had crawled it’s way along with your name out of your mouth.
4. A summer ago, you asked me what it was like to not need a place to call home. I know you asked this from a place of trauma, that your trauma has convinced you it will all be okay once you find a home. But it is lying, because what you need up find is your healing. And I told you that wanderlust had etched itself so ornately into my bones that I had no choice but to travel till it had sated itself. You looked at me with envy, even as I thought of all the people who would love to make a home of your heartbeat. You however were looking for a certain kind of love that you would call your very own. A kind of love that would never abandon you the way everyone you have ever loved has.
5. Something about you glowed bigger and better than all the stars we gazed at in the night sky. And even then, even when you had everything, you longed for a human to belong in. But everytime you laid the foundations for something good, they came crashing and tumbling down on your head. Because your trauma is a perfectionist and no one could quite become what you needed and wanted at the same time.
6. I wish I had told you then what I told you in that very last letter before I left. That child, why did no one ever teach you that you cannot turn people into homes? People are rivers, ever changing, ever flowing. They will disappear with everything you put inside them. Still, that home you are hunting for does have a heartbeat. But it isn’t one locked in anyone else’s chest. Just look inside your own.
i mean, i appreciate the subtlety. i crave those tiny moments that you only notice when someone points them out to you. but this! you can’t miss this one, this moment is shoved down our throats. this is so “i’m allowed to do that to you, to be in your personal space, and gaze into your eyes for no reason, just because i want to”. and phil’s face in that moment, so much joy and mischief, he claps his hands and gazes back.
drama queen howell strikes again, it hurts to rewatch it srsly, why is he so extra? but what is phil doing ladies and gents? he slaps his chest in the weirdest way possible, he brushes it, it’s like he wants to shove him but reassuringly and the movement happens so fast you have to pause for a second to comprehend it. that sweet gentle boy is so fond of dan’s unnecessary commentary and yeah, it completely distracts us from what dan is saying at that moment.
was that necessary, really? like, i don’t ask my friends to feel my heartbeat when i’m scared, that was such a “horror movie at first date” bullshit, that’s not what people do?? and when dan does feel that beautiful hummingbird heart, phil just covers his hand with his own palm because yes, you gotta feel it very close, no air between your hand and my chest. dan immediately looks into the camera to show us that yeah, i know you’re there, nothing strange, and makes a comment about phil dying. wow.
i don’t know what to say. it’s so simple but why does phil have to make such an act of bringing dan his charger, why does he talk in that stupid voice?? they have a banter, and then phil FIXES DAN’S CHARGER FOR HIM, like what?? who asked you to do that? where’s my IT guy au (literally, he’s got glasses, look at him). and before he leaves he plays the piano that nerd, what an attention seeker, and then bows!! is he tipsy? did he have a pre-liveshow orgasm or something? dan laughs fondly and it’s all i need in the world.
what’s happening and does it even matter. phil’s hiding on the floor, but why? to surprise us? eh whatever. so he’s got that magical japanese powdery stuff and he wants dan to taste it. the biggest problem for me here, ahem, i mean the thing that just kills me every time is that phil spends the whole time (eight minutes) on his knees and he looks so cute when he makes that beer, holds it close to the camera, and then lets the foam sit so dan can have the ultimate child beer experience.
it reminds me of that hot chocolate video, where he does something so trivial but he’s so gentle and loving about it. i still don’t understand why they didn’t do a simple taste test like bros, but phil had to make it for dan, he wanted to see his reaction. and then he tries it as well, touches the glass rim with his lips at the same place where dan’s mouth just was (gross).
and i just can’t ignore how that boy sneaks past dan’s room after that, he’s playful, he stops to say that he googled something and dan was wrong, and domesticity, i wanna die.
i kinda wanna talk about the angle here because i don’t understand how it was filmed (camera is pretty static, dan’s hand reaches from the side, not behind), but i don’t know if it matters here. what matters is how gentle dan is. of course, he starts with classic nose tickling, which is what “messing with a sleeping friend” usually implies, but then he frees one strand of phil’s hair and just lets it fall. wow, fantastic prank, dan.
and let’s separately discuss that pout/kiss phil does after he opens his eyes. i know you want a slow mo replay, so here we go:
that’s what i call “im gonna stay asleep but i love you”. where’s the nearest cliff so i can fling myself into abyss?
context what context. why did they keep it? why did they put it on fullscreen instead of hiding in the corner? two full-length looks dan, really?? you know what he looks like, why do you have to examine him like that in front of us you slut. and it just passes, without acknowledgment, they just turn back at us simultaneously and I’M STILL DEAD at that moment, i don’t care what happens next.
i don’t even care what it was. something about piano sounds or whatever, but this video haunts me. THERE’S SO MUCH TO IT. first, phil is lying on dan’s bed (at least in the official version it’s dan’s, not mutual), just chilling?? and dan’s working i guess. so they are not actually doing something together but it’s a cozy evening, why would they spend it in different rooms? dan says something, idk, and phil replies “yeah” in that deep voice I SWEAR i haven’t heard from him before. dan makes the sounds again, like can you believe he’s an actual dork in real life, it’s not an act, he’s actually the weirdest boy alive, and he so obviously doesn’t know he’s being filmed. because when phil says “i just filmed you doing that you’re so weird”, he’s so delighted, he laughs at himself, he turns around, his hair is pushed back omg they are both so sleepy and i rejoice. i think this video gives us a rare but fantastic insight in their everyday life, phil must be keeping so much silly videos like that on his google drive and we never get to see them BUT SOMEHOW he posts this one, probably because dan is cute and he wants everyone to know it.
so, yes. you know this one. where do i even begin?? they play this dragon quiz and then 1) phil says “you loved it” in the strangest voice, like the voice we never hear from him, it’s deeper and quieter, he looks at dan even though dan’s not looking back; 2) dan is looking down as if he’s fiddling with an ipad or something, it’s almost a bts moment, something they would usually edit out. AND THEN THREE SECONDS OF SILENCE while dan kinda processes what’s going on and phil still looks at him expectantly. seductive as fuck. and now this quiet “alright”, i’m just… dan looks like he’s gotten the hint, so he’s a little embarrassed and they share the softest laugh.
the thing is, we know how often phil makes sexual innuendos and dan always reacts the same way: he looks into the camera, he throws a witty comment in, he puts it on display to show us that there’s no intimacy in that moment. but not this time. i don’t understand why they didn’t edit it out. i just… don’t.
1) pantless liveshow this is the ultimate. this is the weirdest and the most awesome thing these two gave me and i’m not even sure what can top that. the moment when phil decides to grab the humidifier and show us, he looks at the screen, says “one second” and stands up very awkwardly while dan turns the laptop away from him and makes the weirdest “how you doing” face.
WHAT THE FUCK. did they think we were so used to them weirdos that we wouldn’t even notice that shit? but fuck, they do it again, they want to show us the spray and dan goes “should i go get it? you have to do phil’s corner”. like, i can’t function, i honestly can’t. AND THE WORST PART is when dan returns and we can see him covering his legs with a blanket just too fast like it’s not that cold boy come on.
i have no explanation and i have every explanation. i don’t deserve all this suffering.
I just got a job as a writing tutor, and it inspired me to start a series of writing masterposts! From teaching college composition for two years at grad school and from working as a consultant at my university’s Writing Center, I’ve come to learn a few things about writing I’d like to share. Some of these tips may sound basic, and some may be fresh to you. Some may meet you exactly where you are. Regardless, these are some of the foundational aspects of good college writing.
I. Content & Style: Avoid Fluffy Language
Perhaps this is a symptom of trying to meet page minimums, but some students tend to inflate sentences with unnecessary adjectives. Similarly, they may puff up an essay with a useless statement, like, “Depression affects people in various ways.” What follows a sentence like this is usually a cataloging of the various/numerous/diverse ways in which depression affects people. Kill the middleman: that useless sentence. Be assured that most readers are astute enough to infer that depression affects people in many ways when you list said ways.
Language that sounds like that of a motivational speaker is maddening to most college instructors. “If you are true to yourself, you will be happy in life.” “Friends and family are the most important way to get the emotional support you need.” These are platitudes and overly generalize. Broad claims make for unoriginal writing; be specific and back up your claims with a logical argument, providing evidence for your opinion. Broad generalizations like, “Since the dawn of time, people have loved art” are just padding and detract from more interesting ideas you may have.
II. Description: Be Concrete and Concise
An easy way to avoid vague fluff is to use concrete images and concise language. First, if you can say something in five words instead of ten, that’s great! Go with the five. Second, concrete details provide a more refined image in the reader’s mind (car vs. Ford Taurus, for example) without the use of adjectives and adverbs. And try to avoid adverbs when you can. Show how a person is running “quickly” instead of telling the reader the person is running quickly. Is there sweat? Is this person bumping into others? Are the legs pumping like pistons? Specificity makes for much more interesting writing.
III. Organization: Make a Backwards Outline!
The best thing about outlines is that you ultimately do not have to follow them. Many people use the drafting process to think and come up with their best idea in the middle of the paper. But often the papers that are turned in are first drafts, so that great idea—around which you ought to have centered your paper—remains in the middle, not standing front and center and lacking enough space to develop further. If you’ve allowed yourself enough time to make a second/final draft, post-organize your paper. Map out the flow of your ideas and ask yourself if this is the best order and arrangement possible. Yes, revision is more work, but it is worth it. It is so, so, obvious to professors when a paper has not been properly organized.
IV. Grammar: Comma Splices
The most common grammatical error students make is the comma splice. A comma splice is the attachment of two sentences with only a comma. For example: “Harvey and Tim built a raft, they took it out on the river later.” ARGH. “Harvey and Tim built a raft” is a complete sentence, as is “they took it out on the river later.” How do you fix a comma splice? Well, there are three ways:
Use two separate sentences: “Harvey and Tim built a raft. They took it out on the river later.”
Add a conjunction after the comma: “Harvey and Tim built a raft, and they took it out on the river later.”
Use a semicolon: “Harvey and Tim built a raft; they took it out on the river later.
Standard/Edited (American) English grammar is the grammar of (American) academia and will be for a while. Also, simply, spelling and grammar mistakes only work to undermine your writing. If you have brilliant ideas, you shouldn’t obfuscate them with lousy grammar.
V. Language: Build Your Vocabulary
What does “obfuscate” mean? Well, when you encounter unfamiliar words, look them up and commit their meaning to memory. Practice using them, when appropriate. Of course don’t bloat your language so that your prose reads like a thesaurus. Your writing should sound intelligent/formal (with the help of new words), yet not awkward and stiff with the clumsy handling of “big” words.
VI. Scoring: Read What You Wrote Out Loud
This is pretty basic. Listening to your own writing will help you determine if it sounds stiff and/or unnatural or just awkward as hell. You can read your writing aloud to yourself, but it is best to hear another person read it. I refer to this section as “scoring” because writing has a musical aspect, too. Your use of language should be pleasing, made so by choosing the right word for the right moment, by opting for combinations of words that sound harmonious, and so that your delivery of ideas is arranged to have the most powerful impact. Choose a tone suited to your subject, and know thy audience. What will sound good to you may not sound so good for your intended audience. Adjust the score accordingly.
VII. Research: Do More of It Than You Think You Need To
Often you will be assigned a minimum number of sources for a research paper. Let’s say five, for example. Go for eight or nine. Of course you should avoid using redundant sources (a book on Samuel Beckett’s stage directions and journal article about Samuel Beckett’s stage directions). Find as many perspectives as possible; it’ll only make your arguments stronger. Plus the more academic writing you read, the more naturally it’ll come when you have to do your own.
VIII. Go Weird or Go Home
Another reason more using sources than required can help: finding unique perspectives/approaches to a subject. You may encounter some ideas that counter popular assumptions (peer pressure has some positive impacts; depression can sometimes benefit cognitive function; anti-drug education actually increases drug use). Another interesting tack to take is to go with a subject that often makes people uncomfortable, such as child sexuality, masochism, and alternatives to capitalism.
Strange, uncommon arguments are more interesting than broader overly researched topics, such as nature vs. nurture. A paper on the deliberate use of plot holes, in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and their effect on narrator reliability would be far more interesting than the representation of capitalism in Animal Farm by George Orwell. The more complex and difficult the argument you choose the more critical thinking/writing skills you demonstrate. Weirdness is rewarded in academia, by getting your professor’s attention, by getting published in critical journals, etc. In this case, the axiom of “Be unique, and stand out in the crowd” stands true.
I hope this was helpful! Message me or send me an ask if you have any questions.
Why Midoriya Izuku is the Best Shounen Main Character
Alright so I’m pretty guilty right now. I have a lot of
things to sort out and I still unanswered asks and oh boy do I got a lot of
fanfic writing to do before summer ends and I’m opening requests soon but JESUS
Y’ALL. Im a huge fan of this series and I’ll be damned if I miss writing
something for this boy’s birthday. I already missed writing my Inko
appreciation on her birthday but I won’t let her down!
So…HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MIDORIYA IZUKU AKA BEST SHOUNEN MC
Woah, broad statement to say huh? Well, my friends, I’ve
read a lot of manga, particularly shounens since that’s my more favorite genre,
and I have to say that Midoriya Izuku has been the best main character I’ve
ever read and I only hope he continues to grow into his beautiful character.
I mean even from the beginning of the manga, the way he was
written was so completely relatable and realistic. In the very beginning of the
manga, he was written to be this lonely boy who suffered through bullying and
suicide comments and continuously kept going because of his obsession with
heroes. From the very beginning, Horikoshi gave us this character that wasn’t
perfect (rather was filled with psychological issues) and really at the bottom
of the totem pole. I know a lot of people have compared Izuku with Naruto but
at least Naruto was born with an incredibly gifted ability from the start.
Izuku was literally born with nothing. In a society where there are heroes
running rampant and where Izuku dreams about being a hero, he was literally
born with all odds against him in that regard. Yet, through all the loneliness,
through all the bullying, Izuku still stayed strong through all of that and continued
to dream on his goal, only truly wavering once when All Might told him he
should find a new dream (and even then, he still got himself almost killed but
I’ll get to that in a bit).
And to add on to his realistic demeanor, I know a lot of
people call Izuku a cry baby and make fun of his constant amount of crying but
honestly? Imagine this: you were born a black sheep in society, everyone looks
down on you, you dream of being something great but you weren’t born with the
skills for it, someone you consider to be a friend looks down on you and
literally tells you to go jump off a building and destroys a piece of you that
you hold memorable, then you almost get killed but someone saves you, then you
finally get to meet your idol, the person keeping you alive essentially and
they tell you straight up that you should give up on your dream, then you’re devastated
but you see that friend in a life threatening position so you literally
sacrifice yourself to go save them even though you can’t do anything, and then
instead of praise, you get all the blame and beaten down again while your
friend gets all the praise, but then you end that EMOTIONAL DAY (keep in mind
it happened within a DAY) with your idol telling you that you can be that person
and he will help you achieve your dream. I won’t even go onto the other times
he’s cried but honestly? I know if I was in his position, I wouldn’t have even
stomached half of what happened and I’m sure most of you reading this wouldn’t
be able to have a DAY like that without crying. I’m sure with 99% of you, at
least once tears will shed. Izuku during his time has been through emotionally
exhausting feats and I think it’s absolutely INCREDIBLE that Horikoshi gives us
this raw character with RAW emotions. Through Izuku being this emotional, not
only does it help us relate to him much more but it helps shows that, hey you
can still be strong AND be emotional too. Emotions doesn’t equal weakness and
Horikoshi really shows that tremendously, especially when the audience are a
group of young ones-adults that are taught daily showing emotions is weak and
you have to be strong and not show weakness because apparently crying shows
weakness. With Izuku, all of that is stomped on the ground and it’s truly
And oh boy, my favorite part of Izuku! So most shounen
protagonists I have seen and come across are usually born or given this great
ability suddenly and yes, while they have to train, they normally get the hang
of it pretty quickly and are pretty op with it (I’m looking at you Natsu). Most
of the time nakama power is enough to win the battle even though the power
difference is crazy different. Yet with Izuku, it’s not like that at all. We
are 145 chapters in and Izuku can only still use a small portion of One for All
still and he’s gotten to the point where, because of his continuous idiotic use
of One for All, he has the major consequence that if he uses it too much at
100%, he could lose FUNCTION IN HIS ARMS. OH YEA, PRETTY BIG DEAL AND
CONSEQUENCE FOR THAT.
From what I just wrote, this was my favorite thing that was
Yes, folks, he not only says that once, not twice, but
multiple times throughout the series. I think the most recent time he said it
was during Episode 27 when he was climbing the walls, though I’m sure he’s said
it in the future arcs and I forgot about it. Due to this new given status he
was given, Izuku acknowledges that he is completely far behind from everyone
else, he understands that he is at the bottom of the totem pole and that he has
to work 10x harder than everyone else since he lost about 10-11 years to get
used to his quirk. And throughout the series, Horikoshi doesn’t pull back on
that, in fact he really drives it in that, while Izuku does become the greatest
hero of all time, it doesn’t happen overnight, it takes a lot of time, training
and consequences to get to that point. Even from the beginning, we were given a
small glimpse of his incredible training regime and that alone just shows how
much effort he has to put in and even that wasn’t enough. I won’t lie, it feels
so refreshing that the Main Character isn’t some overpowered person who always
gets away with his ridiculous moves, rather it’s nice that he does have
consequences and that he see him actually develop into that role while he is
being surrounded by others who could take that title from him.
Also, not only is he an intelligent and incredibly hard
worker like holy hell, but can we talk about his personality as well? See, here
is another perk about Izuku, we weren’t given some either suave person or an
annoying character that makes you want to rip out your hair because they’re
either too happy or too sad or too emo cringey mess. Rather, Horikoshi gave him
a realist personality who thinks through, is incredibly modest and respectful,
and holy fuck the most selfless character in the entire show.
I mean, we already know
his intelligence and craftiness as he analyzes heroes and their moves as seen
through the constant muttering he does as he watches them and his writings in
Which might I add right
now that I’m really happy Horikoshi gave him this type of analytic behavior as
it makes his earlier actions have a bit more sense involved in them, like due
to his constant observation he was able to use moves in combat that at least
got him by in the beginning
To also tie in with that,
can I say that it is so refreshing to have a main character be a complete DORK
about girls and such like that?? Like for someone who was lonely and only had
much of the internet to interact with, it makes complete sense that in the
beginning he’s really nervous around females or even touching them or talking
Like look at how he talks
Or even how he reacted
when Tsuyu said to put her down
Or even how he reacted
towards Mei when she had her chest all up in his grill.
Not only does having this
personality trait make him a total dork and cutie but it really shows that we
won’t see anything super perverted on Deku’s side. Like if he’s too nervous to
talk or even touch a girl in a different manner, than it really shows how respectful
he is and how modest he is and how we won’t see any pervy side of Deku anytime
soon, which is refreshing for an MC to be that way since most MCs have to
either touch or acknowledge their love interest’s chest before they can be established
as a good character.
Though, I will say that
even though those are amazing points of our birthday boy, the one personality
trait of his that truly makes him a much more fitting hero than Bakugou or even
Todoroki or even my baby Ochako is how incredibly SELFLESS he is. Ok ok I know
that’s a common personality trait but Izuku really takes it to the max
throughout the manga.
Like when right after he was told to jump by Bakugou, his initial thoughts were based on Kacchan not wanting to get severely punished by the law
Or when he risks his
life to save Bakugou from the sludge monster even though he has no quirk
Or when he risks his life
once again to save Ochako even though he can’t control his quirk
Or when he risks his life
AGAIN to save All Might
Or when he attempts to
help Ochako before her fight with Bakugou
Or when he puts his spot
in the tournament on the line to help Todoroki reconcile his fire side
Or when he helps Iida with
the Stain fight and notifies the entire class to come and help
Or when he even goes well
over his power limit to save Kota and show him that heroes are good people that
can hold on their own
Or when, even though he
could lose function in his GOD DAMN ARMS, he still helps the others get Bakugou
back from the villains
And note guys, I didn’t
even list everything. I just listed the things I could remember but there is so
much more that I could have listed as well. And legit, the things I mentioned,
there was no benefit in him doing that, like during the time he did them, all
there were were cons for him, there was nothing positive in any of those
situations for him. And yet? He still did it. He still put himself and his
wishes behind to help those around him and make sure they were successful or
safe, even if it meant his own life on the line. I’ve never seen other shounen
protagonists push themselves this much in only 145 chapters and I think that’s
Alright so this post is
reaching to be about 2k and while I can say more about this wonderful boy, I
also want to make sure that I not only post this on time but that I don’t find
myself repeating the same thing over and over again. While Izuku is not my
favorite character of all time, I am so happy and blessed that he is the main
character of this amazing manga series. He’s grown so much since the first
chapter and Horikoshi is only setting up the series more to have him grow much
more and I’m excited to see how much more he grows as the series progresses. He
is such a good character that is well balanced and realistic and such and I
know for myself personally that I really relate to him in a lot of ways. Truth
be told, it makes me actually really incredibly sad when people dismiss his
reasoning for being a hero or when people just write him off as a cry baby
because there’s so much more to him than just that. His reasoning to be a hero
is realistic and deep enough, his emotions are realistic, his psychological
issues that he faced with in the beginning shows his strength tremendously.
Izuku is one of the best
main characters and I’m so happy all of us were blessed with him on this
wonderful day! Yay!!! Happy Birthday Deku!!!
Tldr; Izuku’s face appears
when you look up the definition of what a friend and a hero is.
Sorry if this comes off ignorant, I don't mean it... My son is 4 1/2 and was diagnosed two years ago. I try to do the best I can and let him be him 💕 but while he's in speech therapy (he's still moving into the idea of talking), schools in the area (private) push ABA for students with autism. But I see young adults like yourself saying ABA is NOT good. I'm more inclined to listen to someone on the spectrum than those not, but what is the issue with ABA?
First, I want to say that I am so glad that you are turning to the autistic community for help. This isn’t an ignorant question at all. There is so much conflicting information out there about ABA that it can be hard to even know where to begin. It sounds like you really want to help your son as best you can which is admirable.
To start off, not all therapy labeled as ABA is actually ABA. I’m going to explain what the issues are with true ABA and then explain how to figure out if the therapy they are trying to push on your son is ABA or not.
ABA stands for Applied Behavioral Analysis. It is a scientific method that involves observing the individual in order to identify “target behaviors,” i.e. behaviors that are undesirable to the parents/therapist. Next, aversives, rewards, and operant conditioning is used to eliminate these behaviors and encourage wanted behaviors. Overall, this may not sound like a bad thing, so let’s get into why this therapy is harmful.
The groundwork of ABA therapy is the idea that autistic people are broken and in need of fixing. Our natural, non-harmful behaviors, such as stimming or lack of eye contact, are targeted as behaviors in need of fixing. The main focus of ABA is making a child “indistinguishable from peers,” i.e. to make the child seem “normal.”
This often includes things like getting rid of stimming (often with the phrase “quiet hands”) and forcing eye contact in order to make the child less noticeably autistic. The problem with this is that stimming is a coping mechanism for autistic people. We stim to regulate our emotions/senses, cope with stress, and express ourselves. Eye contact can be uncomfortable or even painful for us and being forced to perform it can be just awful.
Further, changing these behaviors does nothing that is truly beneficial for the child. Instead of being trained out of behaviors that are non-harmful, an autistic child should be taught ways to manage their autistic traits in a way that is useful and productive for the child. For instance, if a child is uncomfortable making eye contact, learning to look at a person’s forehead or nose is a great alternative as most people can’t tell the difference.
Further, due to the focus on making a child indistinguishable from peers, there is often a push towards verbal speech even when atypical methods of communication like sign language or AAC would work better for the child.
ABA therapy operates by using rewards/reinforces and punishments/aversives to train a child to perform wanted behaviors and to stop unwanted behaviors. Rewards are withheld until the wanted behavior is performed and aversives are used when an unwanted behavior is performed. Often, foods, such as gummy bears, candy, or other tasty treats, are used as rewards as well as praise or affection, access to a comfort object, break time, stickers or stamps that can be traded for privileges/rewards, or access to a special interest. Additionally, some therapists make use of a clicker, a device that makes a loud click sound originally used for training animals, to indicate that a wanted behavior has been performed and that a reward is coming.
For aversives, the removal of a comfort object, withholding of snacks, removal of reward items, or prevention of engagement in a special interest are often used. Some therapists also use “taste aversives” like pickle juice, vinegar, hot sauce, or other bad tasting edibles, as well as “tactile aversives” which would be making the child touch something that sets off tactile defensiveness or distress. Withholding praise or affection is also used as an aversive.
In DTT (Discrete Trial Training), a form of ABA that is considered to be kinder than other versions of ABA, the therapist will not look at, engage with, or respond to the autistic child until the desired behavior is performed. Similar methods are employed when unwanted behaviors are displayed.
As a treatment, ABA is centered around compliance training, in other words, making a child compliant to the desires of the adults in their lives. Rather than focusing on how to help a child live the best autistic life they can, the focus is put on making the child seem “normal” no matter what the cost to the child. This serves only to make parents more comfortable and does little to help the autistic child as they progress through life.
Using aversives on a child ranges from bad to cruel depending on the aversive used. Withholding rewards from the child, particularly when those rewards are food or other necessities, creates insecurity in the child. Further, by training a child in this way, the child becomes more vulnerable to victimization. When you are told by all the adults in your life that you must ignore your own pain and discomfort for the sake of adults, how is a child to know when they are being abused? How is a child to know that the adult touching them in that way is wrong when they are forced into hugs which are painful for them?
You may have noticed that what was described here sounds an awful lot like dog training, and that’s because it is. ABA trains a child in the same way you would train an animal which is dehumanizing. Autistic children are not animals whose behavior should be crafted to suit those around them. Autistic children are unique individuals who need support and care.
Finally, ABA therapy is often a full time job for the autistic child. Often, 40 hours a week or more of therapy is recommended for optimal results. It is ridiculous to put a child through such a strenuous routine.
So what are you to do instead? Obviously you want to help your child live the best life possible which is wonderful. There are plenty of therapies that can be very helpful to autistic children. Speech therapy, which you’re already doing, can be great for children who are struggling with verbal speech, though methods of AAC should be provided until the child is able to communicate verbally (and even then, AAC should still be available for times when the child goes nonverbal/semiverbal).
Occupational therapy to help with sensory integration or motor difficulties or other areas in which the child is struggling. There are also play-based therapies like floor time which can be very beneficial to autistic children. No matter which therapies you utilize to help your child there are a few things to keep in mind.
First, therapy should be supplemental according to the child’s need rather than the central aspect of their life. If the therapy schedule would be exhausting for an adult, it’s not appropriate for the child. Next, does this therapy help the child live the best autistic life they can or does it focus on making the child appear to be “normal”? Normalization is for the benefit of parents while good therapy focuses on helping the child with things that the child finds problematic such as learning to cope with sensory issues or learning better communication (whether that’s verbal communication or AAC).
So how do you figure out is what is being presented to you is true ABA or something else masquerading as ABA? There are some questions you can ask to help sort this out. First, though, we need to go over why there are therapies that aren’t ABA calling themselves ABA. In the US, most insurance plans will ONLY cover ABA for autistic children. As such, many therapists who perform other therapies have resorted to labeling themselves ABA in order to be covered by insurance. This allows them to work with children that otherwise wouldn’t be able to access these therapies. As such, what is being pushed for your child may not be true ABA.
Here are some questions to ask:
What is the goal of the therapy? As we’ve discussed, ABA focuses on making the child “indistinguishable from peers” or normalization. If you hear that phrase, turn away and don’t look back. Even if the therapy isn’t ABA, the goal of making a child appear “normal” is not a useful goal for the child and can be detrimental.
Does the therapy make use of rewards and aversives? We’ve discussed why aversives and rewards can be damaging to a child. A good therapy for your child will use other means to discourage harmful behavior.
Does the therapy emphasize compliance? Compliance makes for a “well-behaved” child but does not lead to a healthy, independent adult (which I’m sure is what you’re hoping for in your child’s future). Therapies should focus on helping a child manage any harmful traits they have without forcing them to be compliant to an adults wishes. Just like all children, autistic children will not always be obedient or follow adults’ wishes. This is how it is supposed to be. Children need the space to make their own mistakes and learn and grow. Compliance teaches a child to shutdown their own needs and desires to fit the desires of another.
Does this therapy discourage non-harmful behaviors? Autistic children will sometimes engage in behaviors that are harmful to themselves or others. These behaviors definitely need to be addressed and worked on. For instance, a child’s stims may physically hurt another person such as grabbing onto other people to stim. This behavior is not ok and a parent/therapist should work with the child to redirect the behavior. However, ABA often focuses on stopping behaviors that are not harmful. For instance, most stimming does not hurt anyone. It may be atypical behavior, but it generally does not hurt the child or anyone else. If a child is being bullied for their stims, that should be addressed with the school to change the harmful behavior of the other students rather than stopping the child from engaging in behaviors that are useful for self-regulation and expression. A good therapy will focus only on discouraging harmful behaviors.
Are you allowed to observe the therapy as you please? In non-harmful therapies, you will generally be allowed to observe the therapy whenever you wish as they have nothing to hide. If a therapy will not allow you to observe what is being done, then it may be harmful to your child. However, even some therapies that are harmful may allow observation, so, when you do observe, make sure to really pay attention to how they treat your child.
If the therapy being presented to you passes all of these questions, then it is not true ABA and could potentially be helpful for your child. As we’ve discussed, there are many therapies that can be beneficial to autistic children. Some useful goals of therapy could include:
Changing harmful behaviors- if a child is causing harm to themselves or others, the behavior needs to be addressed and the child should be provided with alternatives to help redirect the behavior. For instance, if a child is playing with their own poop, the child needs to be taught that this is unsanitary and provided with playdoh or other sensory tools to use to redirect the need for sensory input. Similarly, if the child hits others while melting down, one alternative may be providing the child with a pillow or stuffed animal to hit instead.
Communication- While many therapies focus on speech, the true goal should be improved communication. This may include speech as a goal if that is within the child’s abilities, but it should also include forms of AAC to be used for communication either until the child is able to learn verbal speech or instead of verbal speech if speech is too difficult for the child. AAC can include letter boards, picture boards, text to speech apps, among others. Sign language can also be useful in facilitating communication.
Managing Sensory Input- Many autistic children are hyposensitive and/or hypersensitive to sensory input. As such, it is important to teach the child ways to manage their sensory sensitivities. This may include managing their sensory diet by setting aside time for sensory play, use of sensory defenders like headphones/ear defenders/ear plugs, sunglasses, or other methods of regulating sensory input, and stimming as a method of regulating sensory input.
Anything that causes the child distress- If a child is struggling in an area and it causes them distress, that is a good thing to work on in therapy. For instance, if the child is having frequent meltdowns, one of the goals of therapy should be to figure out why the child is having so many meltdowns and find ways to accommodate the child to prevent meltdowns. Similarly, if the child struggles with socializing with other children and is upset by this, social skills classes may be beneficial. If something is upsetting for the child, then it is likely a good goal for therapy. However, if the child is not bothered by something, therapy likely isn’t necessary (unless it is causing harm to the child or others).
So this got super long. I hope I’ve addressed everything you needed covered. If you have anymore questions, you are welcome to send me more asks or check out @autism-asks to get more info about autism.
Finally, I’m going to leave you with some links that cover ABA from other perspectives:
vika, i need relationship advice? a long while back you mentioned your relationship with your now-husband (congrats!!!!!!!!!! 💕💕) was a healthy one. how did you know? i've been in two very unhealthy relationships in the past and now i don't know how to recognize a healthy one. sorry if this is an annoying question!
No, your question is great, don’t worry about it!
First of all, I think that since every person is different, they have different understanding of what “healthy” means, so the main points can alter a bit. As in, some couples enjoy arguing, both getting good emotions out of it, so for them it’s a way of healthy.
As for the main points, there still should be general “rules”.
• you don’t beat each other up in order to prove anything, that you’re right, that you’re stronger, etc etc.. Hitting your partner in a nose with an elbow by accident or playfully LIGHTLY tapping don’t count.
• you don’t make up the ideal and then consider whether or not your partner fits in the borders of it. Changing them if they don’t, being angry that they can’t change. The changes in relationships are completely normal, but both go through changes willingly.
• you listen to each other opinions, trying to understand them if your opinion differs. One doesn’t bully the other no matter how much they disagree. Both should be willing to find a compromise and respect that this other human being that is not me can in fact have a different opinion!
• you talk to each other about something you don’t like instead of forming an inner snowball. If someone did or didn’t do something you have expected them to (or you disagree with), talk it out. Don’t go all gloomy for a week and then spill it all out. Don’t constantly remind someone about what they did 5 years ago and how wrong and horrible it was.
• you help and support each other no matter what, and you don’t try to ruin your partner’s passion if you don’t share it. If one wants to do something, to work somewhere, to invest in a hobby they love so much - support them. The support partners give each other can make them grow amazingly.
• you don’t lie to each other, but don’t be BRUTALLY honest. If there is something that may hurt your partner but they need to know it, be kind.
• you seek happiness for your partner, and don’t want to purposefully hurt them and ruin them with your words.
• YOU RESPECT EACH OTHER. And hopefully, don’t want to use your partner like an object. You value them.
•Also!! I remembered: hang out with your friends and let your partner do the same! Don’t be posessive of each other.
I can go on forever and I might have missed out something important, because there is so much in my head, but! I wrote the main things I consider important.
Also, I’m sorry it sounds so “you do that and you don’t do this”, it’s just the easiest way to form out my thoughts, so!
➾ warnings: incredibly filthy smut with no plot at all | cumplay | dirty talk | tit fucking | slight demeaning names/ name calling | face fucking | oral sex | unprotected sex
➾ summary: ceo!jimin takes it upon himself to discipline you when your attire doesn’t exactly adhere to HR regulations
➾ a/n: okay look this is just my excuse to write a ceo!jimin smut… i just felt like i owed him big time after what i did to him in instant gratification :”) i speed wrote this in a day and didn’t proofread whatsoever rip…
The clattering sounds of typing,
clicking and pages flipping lull you into a state of lethargy as your eyes
flutter half-shut in your cubicle. Having graduated as an arts major two years
ago, you’d never imagine being holed up with a mundane 9-5 office job that had
almost nothing to do with your major. But bills needed to be paid and rent had
to come from somewhere, so you find yourself trudging to work soulessly every
morning, day in day out.
“Hey, are you almost done with those
files I gave you this morning?” The voice of your co-worker Mingyu in the next
cubicle jolts you into awareness immediately.
So, while we’re all assuming that the cult ending was/is intended for some sort of creepy Halloween DLC, I wanted to throw my idea out there:
Make every character super dark/into a monster. Every dad has something super messed up about them going on and you need to save your dad/join Robert in ridding the world of these monsters.
Damien becomes an actual vampire, drinking the blood of the other beloved characters in the game (Quizmaster Quinn, may you rest in piece).
Joseph is, well, a cult leader possessed by a demon that is getting him to kill others for its own sick pleasure.
Craig has turned into a werewolf, and you must chase him (UUHHHGGG) down before he turns on River who is still strapped to his chest.
Mat, you don’t know what’s wrong…But something’s just…Not right. It’s not actually Mat, but everyone thinks you’re crazy. (Changeling)
Hugo’s son goes mad and kills his father, now Hugo is a ghost and you have to figure out how to bring him back.
Brian…Idk what to do for Brian. Go nuts in the comments. Hell, tell me what each dad should actually be instead of what I just thought of off the top of my head.
Robert’s the only one who hasn’t turned, so he’s the demon hunter of the town. You can either join up with him to save your Dream Daddy; Exorcise Joseph, cure Damien/Craig, find out what’s wrong with Mat, bring Hugo back from the dead, ETC. Or, if Robert’s your Dream Daddy, you help him out in ridding the world of all the other evil dads and adopt all their kids and become the best dads in the world together.
The end. Best Halloween DLC ever. Game Grumps, do this thing or something like it. Don’t make Joseph the only one with something creepy going on. Include everyone in the fun! Make it dark but oddly charming and adorable as you are so good at doing.
Impostor syndrome is a psychological condition where people are unable to believe in their successes. Thus, despite the evidence that points to the fact that they are skilled, capable and competent they write this off as temporary – or timing and good luck. Thus, they constantly struggle with feeling like a fraud.
So what are some ways that you can counteract this syndrome?
1. Admit this is something that you suffer from. When we know we’re not alone, and our symptoms have a name (because they are part of an identified disorder) it can help disperse the feelings of anxiety and shame.
2. Distinguish between facts and feelings. Everyone feels stupid and inept at times. That doesn’t mean we’re stupid. Our feelings aren’t facts. So try to be objective - and seek out the real truth.
3. Don’t demand perfection. It is good to set goals and have high standards for yourself. However, it’s unhealthy to obsess over every little thing. You’ll simply waste a lot of time and never feel quite satisfied. And all of us are human and make lots of mistakes.
4. Take a look at the rules you have imposed upon yourself. Are you saying to yourself: “I have to always get it right”;”I should never ask for help”; or “It is bad to make mistakes”? These are misguided rules that undermine your self-esteem. They set you up for failure as they close the door to help.
5. Change the tapes in your head. Instead of constantly repeating faulty self-destructive thoughts (such as “Wait till they discover just how useless I am”) replace it with a thought that builds esteem and confidence. (Such as, “I’m better at this now as I know what I am doing … It’s so much easier when you’ve been here for a while.”)
6. Don’t look to others to affirm your success. Don’t look to other people to rate and judge your work. Set your own personal goals, and mark your progress and success.
7. Fake it till you make it. Almost every individual who succeed in life has a period when they’re acting, as they don’t feel confident. It doesn’t mean that they’re a failure, a fake or a fraud. It means that they’re still learning, and are not afraid to try.
So, there’s a lot y'all don’t know about me. Some things you’re just never gonna no. But let me let you in on this: I am shy as hell, awkward, and this is a post on how to hoe when you’re not a hoe.
Maybe you wanna experiment? Maybe you wanna be a hoe? Maybe you’re ready to hoe but too shy? Maybe you wanna look like a bad bitch? Or maybe you’re a hoe but you’re not but you are but you’re not- either way. I gotchu.
Confidence is key
Of course, the first one I add is on confidence you think. No, but seriously, confidence.
If you don’t have conidence, fake it till you make it. If you pretend like you’re a bad bitch, you will eventually be a bad bitch.
Change your walk. yes, your walk. There’s a walk that will not only make you look like a bad bitch, but will make you feel like a bad bitch. Shoulders back, head high (? straight basically) and let your boobs lead the way. You want your arms swinging by your side casually and your hips doing it too, make it look casual. So don’t overdo it.
Tell yourself how much you love you every day.
Wear clothes that make you feel sexy. For me it’s a variety of things, but put me in skinny jeans, a tank top, adidas and let me put on some highlighter && I’ll be ready for anything.
Work on yourself. Improve constantly. Instead of just being upset about your flaws, write them down and figure outhow to solve them.
Ways to hoe
This all depends and such, but here you go. You may wanna be a sneaky hoe, a cute hoe, a obvious hoe. It doesn’t matter, these should help in some way. So you can get that ish.
Learn the art of seduction. Seducing is a skill. If you want to seduce someone you should learn it. You can find tons of things online, everywhere. There’s sites with ways to seduce, give blow jobs, eat girls out…etc. Learn. Practice your expressions with random people (not forcing them into anything sexually, yall, just lots of eye contact…etc) but do it in a way that you seem innocent. Gauge their reactions.
Sexting. Alright, this is for those that want to feel good sexually. This is for the one’s that are too shy to do anything up close and personal, but want to hoe. Or anyone, tbh. Sexting is a very common thing. If you want to sext, do your research. Don’t show your face…etc. You can always fake your confidence with sexting.
Hoeing that isn’t exactly hoeing. Maybe you like the aesthetic but don’t want dick. Maybe you want to wear racy things and flirt, but not fuck. I gotchu. Your goal is to wear something sexy. I mean sexy. Buy lingerie and wear it every chance you get. Mini skirts are your best friend. Flrit with body language, not just words.
Be your best. Be confident. If you want to wear makeup, do it. Girl ya highlighter is poppin.
Clubs & parties. Do I need to explain this one? Fuck who you want, boo!
The other options, are different. I won’t “recommend” them but I also won’t tell you not to do them. I’m not recommending them because of the struggle…etc. I’ve seen off of just this site alone. You could be an escort, a sugar baby, a stripper, a cam girl…etc But if you even consider this shit. Do your fucking research. Be of a legal age. Know what you’re doing before you go into it. And if you do go into it, have fun, baby.
DON’T. TAKE. SHIT.
I mean that. Don’t let ANYONE put you down for what you wear, do, or want to do. You do you. You wear what you want, do what you want, and take what you want. If they try to pull some bullshit, show them that you are a queen.
To look like a bad bitch:
Wear what makes you confident. But here’s some things I’ve just noticed as I see a lot of them or something. In general:
Get your eyebrows done
Make sure your eyeliner & shadow is matching
Highliiigghhhttt, highlight, highlight more highlight yes
Matte lips are common
So are glossy lips though
SPARKLE, GLITTER, YES
Coconut oil ur hair
Look at all the clear skin posts yall
Shave your legs
Thigh high boot/heels are p common
Bbodycon happens a bit
But tbh wear what you wanna weat && love yourself
Please remember to be safe doing any of the things. Watch out for allergies when you read hoe tip posts, don’t follow everything you see, carry a self defense weapon, learn some self defense. Get it, boo.
So apparently, baby ducks can imprint. How what would happen is that one day Derek just walks into Deaton's clinic with about ten baby ducks in his arms, which had been following him around all day since they decided for some reason that he is their mom and refused to let him out of their sight .
Derek totally didn’t name them, but, “I think Patrice has abandonment issues.”
“Abandonment issues?” Deaton asked, blinking, and then “Patrice?”
Derek just glared, averting his gaze. Alright, so he had named him. But only because it made them easier to tell apart. “Yes,” he gritted through his teeth, holding out the baby ducks for Deaton to take. “I can’t look after them. So here, you have to take them.”
Deaton shook his head. “I think you’re doing just fine, Derek,” he said in a way that could either mean ‘fuck off’ or ‘these ducklings are part of some bigger plan that I’m not going to tell you about’ and then walked away. Just like that.
Later that evening, Stiles came home to find Derek….and several ducklings on his bed.
“Please tell me that’s not the pack,” was the first thing he said, panicked that he wasn’t feeling just as panicked about that scenario as he should be. He wasn’t going to lie and say the thought of Jackson being turned into a baby duck didn’t amuse him.
“No, it’s not the pack,” Derek answered, rolling his eyes, letting one crawl into his hands. “I think….” he frowned. “I don’t think they have…parents.”
“Yeah, “ Derek nodded, all serious and utterly adorable. “And….I don’t know what to do.”
It was hard to read Derek most of the time, but Stiles thought he was getting better at it and this was definitely Derek speak for: ‘I found these baby animals and now I am scared I’m going to hurt them because I don’t have the best track record. SOS, send help, I am a tragic, brooding, beautiful mess’.
Okay, so maybe not the last part. But Stiles was definitely on to Derek.
Derek looked up at Stiles then, as if reading his thoughts, like Stiles had all the answers to the universe. Usually, Stiles was flattered when Derek came to him for help. Well, not flattered, per se. Smug. Smug was the word he’d use. He liked being smug around Derek, his own personal fucked up foreplay. But right now, something different was tingling in the pit of his stomach. He felt warm, and maybe just a little bit helpless. He wasn’t sure if it was a feeling he necessarily liked.
“Well, how about we start with a pond?” he suggested, leaning back against his bedroom door, resisting the urge to grab his phone and snap a picture.
“A pond?” Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, like, build a pond?” He started shaking his head, like the thought terrified him.
Silly, beautiful wolf.
Stiles shrugged. “Why not? You have the money, don’t you? Plus, I think they like you.” He winked and Derek flushed, right to the tips of his ears. Stiles laughed.
“Come on, sourwolf,” he grinned, shaking his head, picking up his backpack from where he had dumped it on the floor. “Let’s go make us a home.”
“It’s your turn to feed them,” Stiles groaned, turning in Derek’s arms.
He swore he could hear the ducks already quacking impatiently. “Please, babe,I’ll do anything if I don’t have to get up right now. I’ll even blow you. Twice. It’s so waaaaaarm.” He stretched, like the lazy cat he was, and smiled all the way down to his toes.
“Don’t call me ‘babe’,” was the only reply he received.
Stiles groaned again. “Sweetheart?” he tried, instead. “Honey? Chicken pot pie of my life?”
For that, his Derek Hale shaped cover was snatched away from him.
“What’s wrong with chicken pot pie???” he yelled, heart broken. Utterly, utterly heart broken. No, betrayed. Derek was mean.
“Nothing, if you want to stay married to me, noodle.”
Stiles grimaced. Okay, they’d work on their pet names for each other outside of sex later. They couldn’t just stick with ‘asshole’ - it was starting to lose its meaning when they fought.
Shoving a pillow in Derek’s face, because when was that ever not satisfying, Stiles crawled to the side of the bed - and because he had no dignity - rolled out of it. “See if you get any sex when I get back,” he called over his shoulder, grabbing Derek’s boxers on the way out of the door.
Derek only grinned when Stiles looked back, already falling back to sleep.
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.
Maybe Dark!Annabeth fighting a child of the big three and she knows that defeating them with physical, raw power isn't possible, so she attacks mentally. She defeats them with words, something Annabeth constantly does throughout the books to her enemies. Making them so angry, distracted, and/or sad that they lose focus and she easily takes the victory.
Annabeth feels him coming before she sees him.
There’s a charge in the air. A gathering static that threatens to strike with every movement she makes, but never quite gets the guts to do so.
That’s Jason Grace for you. Son of Jupiter, chosen of Juno, and just a touch too soft to do what needs to be done. Oh sure, he’ll kill monsters if he needs to, but when the monsters are gods, his solution is to become a priest.
It’s about finding a compromise, he’d said. And making sure that we’re heard.
Annabeth’s finding there are better ways of making noise.
“You got here faster than I expected,” she remarks as he touches down in front of her. She’s perched on the crumbling remnants of a wall that’s thousands of years old. Some small, distant part of her regrets what is about to happen here, but not enough to change course.
“Your pattern’s getting old,” he says. His gladius is out and he holds it warily between them. Annabeth keeps her drakonbone sword at her side. “The others can hold Percy off long enough for me to stop what you’re doing.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You’re the only one coming?”
He tries to hide his grimace, but that’s the danger with fighting your friends. They can read you too well, and a smile curls over Annabeth’s mouth at the confirmation. She hops off the wall, landing lightly on the dirt.
“What made you think I’d be at Pompeii?”
Lightning crackles in the sky overhead, raising the small hairs at the back of her neck. He nods at the scaffolding in the distance, empty of workers this early in the morning. It’s a grim dawn, about to get darker.
“No tourists today. You might’ve turned against the gods, Annabeth, but you’re not a murderer.”
Isn’t she? Annabeth has lost count of the number of monsters she’s put in the ground (under the ground). How many demigods died in the war with Kronos? They bleed red the same as mortals, and her hands are as stained as anyone’s.
So are Jason’s, and irritation pricks at her face. She smooths it away with a cool smile, carefully tracking him as he starts to circle her. She has a certain amount of faith in Jason’s willingness to ‘save’ his friends, but she’s not an idiot.
“So I should start picking locations with people if I don’t want you to interfere, is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s obviously not what I’m saying.” His gaze flickers over the ruins stretching behind her. “So this is all rigged to blow, huh?”
“Leo does good work.”
He winces. He can play on whatever friendship the two of them might have had all he likes, but that betrayal is the real knife in the guts and they both know it. Annabeth coerces her expression into concern, the cogs of her brain turning the right muscles to give it the realism it needs. She takes a half step forward, and Jason doesn’t step away.
“He misses you, you know.” Her voice is a soft thing. Caring. “Misses both of you.”
“If he misses us so bad, he should come and see us.”
“You really think we’re going to be welcome at Camp after all this?
“You haven’t killed anyone.”
The yet sits between us, and it doesn’t matter anyway. The gods would be more likely to forgive her if she had killed someone. They could have murdered thousands of mortals and not been struck down, if they’d just done it far away from the last vestiges of godly power in this world.
Gaea had plotted to bring down Mt Olympus, and that’s definitely on Annabeth’s list. But she’s always been a methodical sort of girl, and divine power runs deep. Best to stamp out all traces of it, one relic at a time.
She sighs. “We don’t plan to. You know that.”
“You’re trying to kill the gods!” Lightning cracks again, closer now. It takes more strength than Annabeth wants to admit to to avoid reaching for her weapon.
“And how many times have they tried to kill us? At best they don’t give a shit, Jason, you know that.”
But he’s shaking his head. They’ve had this fight before, all of them, enough times that she could probably just record it for him to save energy. He’s long since stopped listening to sense, and she doesn’t bother with more than a cursory attempt to convince him.
“You’re too late for this one,” she says. “I’m proud of you for getting here before it blows, but you were right. It’s ready to go.”
His grip shifts on his sword. And - there’s something in his expression that prompts her to brace for an attack, because it’s not defeat. This time, she thinks. This time might be the one where I push too far.
It’s sad, sort of, but relief swamps that soon enough. It’s not that she wants to fight old friends, but it would make everything a lot simpler. To just be able to fight, without caring what happens to them anymore. To draw battlelines instead of blurring them
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls. “But even if the rest of your team is ready to destroy this place, they’ll stop once you’re a hostage.”
Annabeth laughs. It’s a miscalculation, but she can’t help herself. “The others might. But hell itself couldn’t keep Percy Jackson from me, Jason, and you’re no Tartarus.”
“I can deal with Percy.”
He can’t. She wonders idly if he knows that. Everyone’s aware of Percy’s power these days, but that’s what he’s like with her at his side. Jason, she suspects, still has a little too much optimism left about what Percy’s self control would be like without her. What it would be like if he even thought she was in danger.
“Right, well, that’ll be your mistake to live with.” She squints up at the sky, trying to judge her next play. Being a hostage would accelerate certain things that she’s not ready to set into motion just yet. Most of all, she doesn’t think that Percy is quite as ready to fight the others as she is.
“You made a miscalculation,” she said finally. “You always want to go for the biggest player, Jason. It’s one of your biggest weaknesses.”
“You can’t talk your way out of this, Annabeth.” His body moves, and she can almost trace the lines in the air, the familiar forms he’s about to slide into. “You’re coming back to Camp wth me.”
He lifts his blade, wreathed in lightning. She smells ozone on the air, the threat of violence wafting in behind it. She clasps her hands behind her back, and lays down her hand.
“Where’s Piper, Jason?”
Everything stops. Nature itself holds its breath as those too-blue eyes widen in sheer panic, before narrowing at her.
“Piper’s your friend. You wouldn’t hurt her.”
Annabeth waits. She doesn’t need to say anything. The silence between them does it for her. The even sound of her breathing. The shroud of absolute confidence holding her shoulders straight.
You are not going to take me, her body says, like it’s all a foregone conclusion.
“She can handle herself,” he tries again, and there’s the edge of desperation that she’s been waiting for. Enough to cloud his thinking. He might not think she’s a murderer, but there are other atrocities. Things she hasn’t held back from in the opening numbers of this new war.
That’s a risk. Because they both know that Percy isn’t steady, isn’t stable, that his relationship with Piper had been tenuous at best and that without Annabeth there, his temper might just get away with him. Piper has her Charmspeak, but there are ways around everything if you have enough power.
It’s a risk, because Jason’s anger could always outweigh his fear. He could always take it out on her rather than fly off for Piper. Annabeth is confident in her ability to take him with a sword, but Jason comes with all those bonus add-ons that children of Athena just aren’t privy to.
So she gives him one last push. Just to make sure.
“Tartarus has so many doors,” she says softly. That same quiet concern from before, turned deadly now. “You know we found all of them, right Jason?”
He spits a curse, something in Latin about the gods and what he hopes they’ll do to her. She watches him leap into the sky, shading her eyes against the rising sun until he’s no more than a dot in the distance.
“You say that like they haven’t already done their worst,” she murmurs, before turning back to the ruins.
summary : peter’s always been a little bit in love with you, it just took a difficult night and warm, ever comforting words for him to come to the realization. intelligent he may be, but he’s a clueless teenage boy before anything else.
word count : 2.5k
It was eleven o’clock at night and, as per usual, you were neglecting the sleep you desperately needed in order to finish up the notes on your assigned reading novel that were due in just a few short hours. You were never one to finish tasks, especially menial ones such as homework, in a timely fashion. This was just the tip of the iceberg. You briefly took off your glasses, rubbing your tired eyes that were now struggling to focus on the words in front of you properly. When you slipped them back over your nose, glancing up toward your bedroom window that lead out to the fire escape, you saw the familiar face of your best friend peering in through the glass in a way that was only slightly creepy.
Peter knocked rapidly on the glass, waving at you in the typical, hyperactive way that he always had about him. You jumped off your bed, reaching out to shut your bedroom door before walking over to the bay window and unlocking it. A rush of cold winter air nipped at your face the minute it swung open and Peter Parker shoved himself through. Visits from him in this particular manner were common, especially after a day’s work of fighting crime throughout various parts of New York, but not usually this late- and never without a text to alert you first.
“You must be freezing,” you shivered, closing the window quickly. “How long were you out there?” Making yourself comfortable on your bed once again, you propped open your book, ready to force him into helping you study. He didn’t answer. Instead, he drew his sweatshirt closer to his body, sliding to the floor beside your bed and leaning his head against the soft duvet. His curls were sticking up in every direction when he pulled his hood away, his cheeks and the tip of his nose a brilliant shade of red, but not from the bitter chill that was sweeping mercilessly over Queens.
You heard a distinct sniff, then another, then another. His breathing, already shallow from the frantic climbing he had done to reach your fire escape, became even more labored. He pulled his knees to his chest to hide his face. He felt you press yourself against him, your arms around his shoulders and across his chest before he could pull away in embarrassment. Your glasses creaked when they pushed too far into his shoulder. Neither of you moved. You clung to him and he sat there, silently shaking and leaning into your embrace as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
“Hey, hey, shh, shh, Peter, you’re okay,” you whispered, rubbing his back. “I’ve got you, I promise. You’ve gotta breathe, though, okay?” He was always ashamed of his sensitivity, but he couldn’t help it. He was a sensitive boy and he cried easily and had an awful lot of anxiety sometimes. Today was one of those days, with good reason. He nodded stiffly, maneuvering himself to hug you back, face pressed into your shoulder this time.
“It’s… the anniversary,” he said, his voice broken. “One year.” Hollow. “One year since- since Ben. One year tomorrow.”
He pulled away, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt. There were traces of tears still making their way down his cheeks, sliding across his nose and down to his lips. He tried to rub them away, too, but you caught his wrist in your hand.
“You’re not wrong or less of a dude for crying, Peter.” The way you looked at him, so lovely and caring and worried, made his heart cry out for the safety of your embrace again. “Were you at the cemetery?” You matched his stance and rested the side of your cheek on your knee, still carefully studying his face.
“Yeah,” he exhaled, placing his chin in his palm. “I’m gonna go again in the morning with May. Gonna miss school. I- I probably should’ve, um, stayed with her tonight but I…” he trailed off, “I needed you.” He said it as he said most things to you, with his soft tone of voice and his hesitance that made him, him. He never really noticed until now.
“What are best friends for, right?”
“Yeah. Best friends.”
Ignoring the odd way those two words slipped out of his mouth, you said, “I’m sorry, Peter. I know you loved Uncle Ben so much. I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this. You and May don’t deserve this.” You reached out to him, your hand gripping his without an ounce of doubt. You had small hands and he didn’t but he felt a thousand times better when yours found his. “I’m always here for you. Do you wanna talk about it?”
Surprisingly, he shook his head adamantly. “No, no.” He squeezed your hand. “I kind of, um, just wanna go to bed. Crying like a little baby really tires a guy out, you know?” He gave a weak laugh, a tiny grin, and you smiled right back at him before pulling him to his feet. “Can I use the bathroom?” He needed to wash the sticky feeling of dry tears off his face, rub the sadness out of his eyes. He wanted to be strong for May when he got back in the morning.
“Of course, just be quiet. Mom and dad are asleep.” You padded across your rug and opened your door a crack, holding it in a specific way so that it wouldn’t creak when you let Peter through. He gave you a grateful squeeze of the hand again before disappearing into the bathroom.
He splashed water on his face, staring up at his reflection, at the water dripping off his eyelashes and the curling ends of the hair that was plastered to his forehead. He rubbed at his face and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to cry anymore. You had sufficiently comforted him for the night. Peter could breathe again.
Peter quietly walked back down the hallway and into your bedroom, watching for a second as you pulled spare blankets down from a shelf in your closet and arranged them on your bay window. You had cleared your bed of your school supplies and had left the covers open for Peter to crawl into without a second though. Which he did. Your covers smelled quite lovely, actually. It was the scent of your perfume that you wore often enough for him to recognize the scent, and he wanted to fall asleep under the inviting covers that were laid out for him. Then, he saw you sit atop your window, about to lie down.
“Wait, why are you doing that?” He got out of bed and took your hand for the third time that night, growing accustomed to the feeling of it. He pulled you over to your bed. “You’re not sleeping on a stupid window. That’s ridiculous. I’ll take the window.” He spun you around and ignored the protestant noise you made, gripping your shoulders and sitting you down on the bed.
“I’m not letting you take the window, either!” You argued, yanking him back down on the bed. He huffed, glaring at you in a teasing manner. “C’mon, just take the bed. You need it more than I do.” His glare dropped to his lap, an idea rolling around in his head. “What?”
“Y/N, how about we just both take the bed?” He said finally, lifting his eyes back to yours. He wasn’t sure what made him say it, why he didn’t just take the floor like he probably should have, but the words were out there in the world and there wasn’t a way to take them back now. You bit your lip, then shrugged, scooting over.
“It is big enough for the two of us.” You turned away from him, turning off your lamp and getting under the covers. You heard Peter slide in next to you, but your back was toward him until he poked you sharply. “What’s wrong, Peter?”
“Can you- um, well-”
You flipped over on your side, just barely making out his face in the darkness of your room. “Do you want me to cuddle you?” Though you said in a teasing sort of tone, you were silently quite pleased when he mumbled a reluctant yes. You moved closer, one arm going around his waist and the other underneath him. Your head was on his chest, listening to the resilient beating of his heart. He placed his chin atop your head. He focused on the sound of your steady breaths until you were sleeping peacefully beside him.
He was so grateful for you- the person who stood by his side throughout anything and everything. You, so strong and beautiful and brave and comforting in his times of distress. You, who never seemed to waver in your loyalty to him. You, the very picture of loveliness and a girl who he’d very much like to-
His eyes flew open, and he almost jumped away from you. He didn’t want to risk you awakening, though, so he stayed put, freaking out internally rather than externally the way he was prone to doing. He had been thinking of kissing you. That was what he was going to say. Kiss. The thought had come so simply to his brain it was like he already thought the same thing for years. Maybe he had. It wasn’t like he was blind. You were a stunning girl, even if you didn’t think so yourself, you were his best friend, you were practically perfect and Peter would be an idiot to not adore you the way that he did.
Adore, adore, adore. Oh, boy. Peter glanced down at you, sleeping in his arms, and confirmed what he had so stupidly never noticed before. His infinitesimal, brief affection for Liz Allen had absolutely nothing on his all encompassing love for you.
Peter bid you goodbye that morning at six thirty sharp, before either of your parents had woken up for work. Before he slipped out your window and into the cracks early morning sunlight, he had pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek. It was only the briefest touch of his lips to your face, but you had held your face, right in that spot, for practically the entire day. Ned had questioned why, but you brushed him off with an answer of exhaustion.
The day after that, Peter returned to school, dragging Ned off to the side as soon as he stepped off the train platform. He had waited for the other boy purposely, seeking advice.
“I have a huge, gigantic, terrible awful problem right now, Ned!” He exclaimed as soon as he saw him, throwing his hands up in the air. “I need help.”
“Psychiatric help,” Michelle supplied, appearing out of nowhere as she usually did before walking down the path to school.
Ned shrugged. “She’s not wrong.”
Peter, frantic, seized Ned’s shoulders and shook him. “This is not a roast Peter session! This a cry for help! Help me, Ned Leeds!”
“Am I your only hope?” Peter wanted to scream.
“This isn’t the time for Star Wars puns, either!” Not waiting for Ned to quip back that every time was Star Wars time, Peter said, loudly, “I’m in love with Y/N and I don’t know what to do!” He ran his hands in his hair, wanting to pull it out. “I just- I just realized the other night! Everything just kind of, like, clicked and I’ve been so stupid. I should’ve realized it before, but of course I didn’t and now I have no idea what to do!”
“Wait, dude, you seriously have never noticed this before? Are you kidding me? Peter, you’re supposed to be the genius of the school. I feel let down.” Ned shook his head solemnly. “Dude, everyone knows you love her. Even Flash. That’s why he picks on her all the time. He likes pissing you off and nothing gets under your skin more than someone messing with Y/N. She’s the first one you told about being Spider-Man, you go to her for all your problems, you practically pee yourself racing to be her partner for almost everything- not science because science is our subject, but still. I figured you knew you loved her and just didn’t wanna talk about it because she’s out of your league.”
“Hey! I am not-” He stopped. “So what if I am? That’s not even the point. The point is that I love her. Me realizing it was inevitable, even if it took me like eighty years to get there. Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta tell her, right?”
“You totally should,” Ned encouraged. “She’s definitely in love with you, too.”
Hopefully, Peter grinned. “You really think so?”
“The reassurance you give me is suffocating, Ned. Stop before I die.”
That day in gym class, Ned and Peter went off to the side to pretend they were doing stretches while you sat with Michelle and conversed about literature for the first half of the period. Your conversation, however, soon led off into other directions.
“Hey, MJ, have you ever… I don’t know, been in love?”
Michelle raised her eyebrows. “Only with crushing the patriarchy. Why? Have you?” The intuitive girl already knew your answer, of course, but she was invested in you and Peter’s love story and was desperate to hear the truth from your own lips.
You played with the hem of your shirt, thinking. Peter and Ned casually inched closer, having been listening to the conversation for quite sometime now. They were unapologetically nosy. “I think I am.”
“With who?” Peter clasped his hands together, silently pleading with the universe to grant him this one wish. I promise, universe, I’ll never ask for anything ever again in my whole life if you just let this girl love me back I swear I’ll be the best Spider-Man there ever was and I’ll protect New York until I’m eighty five just please oh my god please-
The gasp he let out was involuntary, but you didn’t hear him. He turned to Ned, his expression of shock, as well as elation, mirroring Peter’s own. Suddenly, Ned stood, shouting for the entire gym class to hear, “Y/N! Peter loves you too!” You looked up, Michelle’s happy and knowing smirk going unnoticed by you because the only thing you could focus on was Peter and what Ned had just declared.
The gym fell silent, every student turning to stare at you and Peter. You were frozen in shock up until the bell rang and everyone filed out quickly, leaving you and Peter alone.
“Did he mean it?” You asked, your sneakers squeaking against the floor as you closed the distance between you and Peter, your head tilted to meet his.
“It’s the truest thing anyone has ever said.” His lips met yours, and the slant of his mouth against your own was a feeling you could definitely come to adore more than you already did after just one kiss.
Its been about a week since Liz’s party happened and during that time Peter had completely started ignoring you, every time you sat by Peter he would get up and leave. In gym Ned and him started doing their stretches on the furthest part of the gym from you.
You were hurt. More then hurt actually, you felt broken. The guy of your dreams almost kissed you and now you could feel he regretted it, a lot. Hell he could barley even stand looking at you. Michelle finally spoke kicking you out of your horrid thoughts “Hey Y/N how ya holding up?” You felt her hand slowly rub your back in an attempt to comfort you. “Well MJ not very well, I’ve liked peter ever since he moved into that stupid apartment and when i finally got the chance to kiss him, he left me..” you paused looking up from the library table you’ve recently started coming to to seek comfort in being alone, “and he regrets it, he regrets trying to kiss me and won’t even do as much as give me the time of day.” Michelle’s hand dropped from your back and found their way onto your face and turned you to look at her. “Listen Y/N, maybe Peter has an explanation for all this.” She looked deep into your eyes feeling the sadness radiate off of you.
“Just maybe try talking to him?” she suggested pulling her hand away from your face. You sighed, she’s right i need to just woman up and talk to him instead of treating him like he is me. I need to be the mature one in this situation. You grabbed your books off of the table and made your way out of the library and towards Peters locker, Its almost the end of 6th period, the last period of the day.
The bell rang right as you made it to Peters locker and waited silently to confront the boy who made you feel broken, but he never came.
“Uh hey Ned?” you asked when you passed by him on your way to debate club, tired of waiting. Ned shut his locker and mad his way over to you with a smile on his face “Yeah whats up Y/N?” you felt a sick feeling over come you before asking whats on your mind, “Have yo-you seen Pete-Peter anywhere?” You stuttered out your question, averting your eyes from Ned’s suddenly feeling a gross kind of embarrassed over run your feeling of sickness. “No, actually i haven’t seen him since gym.” Ned replied as you two began to walk the same way towards the debate club. “Maybe he’ll be at the debate meeting today.” Ned said with a happy glint in his eyes, “How come you’re looking for him?” your heart drops into your stomach trying to think of something to say other than the truth, “We uh-we’re doing a project in chemistry together and i haven’t been able to get ahold of him.” You lie with a sick smile on your face, the lie seeming to convince Ned as you two walked through the doors of the gym to your now daily debate club meeting.
“Hey you two, hurry up and take your seats.” Liz spoke gleefully with a smile on her face before going back to asking questions to the 4 people sitting at tables on the small school stage for nationals that happen in 2 days.
You were getting settled into your seat next to MJ at the front table when you heard the door open to the small theater room open. You looked up from pulling your binder out of your backpack when you caught eyes with the beautiful chocolate ones that were so intimate with you just a week ago.
His gaze averted from yours making you feel guilty for even meeting his eyes in the first place. “Mr. Harrington, I need you to let me go to nationals.” Peter rushed his sentence out. You let out a small laugh you were trying to keep in. Peters head snapped over in your direction and the smile on your face grew wider and your laugh grew louder at his unexpected look. Not even 2 days have passed since Peter said he wasn’t going to nationals and now he wants to? “Well i don’t know whats up with Y/N but you can’t just show up at the last meeting before nationals and expect to be put back on the team” Flash spits confidently at Peter “Well actually Mr. Parker..” Mr. Harrington shot Flash the “shut up” look with his eyebrows raised “Yes you can, Flash can you grab Peters jacket out of my office desk please.” Mr. Harrington flashed a smile at Flash.
“Peters coming to nationals now?” Michelle lowly whispered just barely audible for you to hear, “this should be interesting.” She smiled down at her notebook as she began drawing god knows what.
“Alright everyone needs to behave and no sneaking out after the curfew I’ve set, ten o'clock.” Mr. Harrington lectured you and the group of 10 teenagers. Liz, Michelle and you grab your key cards from the front desk and make your way up to your shared room with them. After getting settled in you decided to relax and watch some tv.
“Hey..” your attention got jerked away from the tv when it turned off suddenly “how about we go to the pool?” You looked over to see Liz gleefully smiling at you and Michelle with her bathing suit on. “Now?” you asked getting up off the bed you were sitting on “it’s 10:30 and isn’t the pool closed?” Liz slipped on her flip-flops “No it doesn’t close till 11:30 and Mr. Harrington does have to know, Plus being rebellious is good for moral…” she paused looking between Michelle and you “so hurry up and get your bathing suits on while I go tell the others.” you quickly agree with her and grab your suit out of your draw of the dresser.
“Michelle, you gonna come?” you ask from the bathroom while putting on your swimsuit on “No, I’m good here with the tv.” she replied as she plopped back down on the bed. You shoved your dirty clothes into your suitcase “Well you’ll just miss out on all the fun!” you called out leaving the room and making your way to the pool.
the pool is on the same floor as your shared room so all you have to do is walk down a few hallways, you make a round around the 2nd to last corner when you collide with something, or someone.
You fall back on your butt letting out a few mumbles of cuss words, “Oh god I’m so sorry, that was my-” The person stops when your eyes meet the familiar chocolate ombré orbs, this moment feeling more intimate than intended, you break your eyes away staring at the floor and taking peters now stretched out hand to help you up.
“Ok so-” a voice interrupts the moment you and Peter were having, “oh hey guys!” The smile of Liz comes into your view, “Hey Liz.” Peter coughs and you see a pink shade take over his face, you lowly scoff and roll eyes taking your hand slowly from Peters. “Are you coming to the pool too Peter?” Liz asks as everyone passes by the three of you “I wasn’t planning on it.” He laughs slightly catching your eyes only to look back to Liz just as you were about to say something you might’ve regretted Liz spoke, “Well you should, so hurry up and get your trunks on!” She whisper shouted the last part of her comment and the same pink shade that took over peters face took over hers.
You felt uncomfortable, like you were intruding on a private moment. “Please, its gonna be like a good luck charm for us!” She spoke as she walked away towards everyone else. Peter turned his attention back to you “You’re going swimming i’m guessing?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking everywhere but your eyes “well you heard Liz, it’s gonna be our good luck charm.” You sarcastically spoke trying to meet Peters eyes with your Y/E/C ones just once.
“Look could we talk about what happened last-” Peters eyes finally caught yours taking you off guard and causing you to choke on your words, the feeling of be unwanted right here in this moment overran your body making you slouch slightly “Look Y/N…” he paused as his phone buzzed in his pocket “I really have to go, could we talk later?” He sighed running his hands through his soft, fluffy brown hair. “Uh sure.” You whispered breaking eye contact with Peter and looking at the floor, Peter sighed once more before walking away “just- just please don’t forget!” You called to him as he turned the corner and out of your sight.
You started making your way to the pool again thinking about what just happened, did Peter even really want to talk? He hasn’t wanted to talk to me at all this past week so maybe he really did regret what could have happened that night. You reached the door to the pool and slid your keycard through the small slot and the door clicked open. You slapped your card down on one of the small tables “there you are!” Flash shouted from in the pool, “I was starting to think you ditched us for penis.” He laughed making your mood even worse than it already was. “Whatever Flash.” You slipped into the pool and just floated on your back looking up at the ceiling with a couple of windows at the top, just admiring the stars and wishing how you could just be one right now instead of having to deal with all of this .. drama? no that’s not the right word for it, but I’m not sure what is maybe- your thoughts get cut off when your eyes meet the ones you saw in the hallway not even 5 minutes ago.
“Peter?” You whisper so quiet no one else hears you, you see Peters eyes widen and then he disappears. You stop and stand on your feet in the small hotel pool still staring up at the window. What is he doing on the roof? Why was he staring at me?
You get out of the pool and grab a designated towel from a small rack in the corner of the room and sit down at a lawn chair.