this quote basically explains my life

I’m a Mouse, Duh - Isaac Lahey

Summary: Lydia throws a Halloween party and you want Isaac’s attention 

Word Count: 1,552

Author’s Note: Mean Girl’s is life. This whole thing just popped in my head when I thought of the line when Katy explained Halloween in girl world. Also, I don’t know where this ending came from. It was not planned. I didn’t know how this was going to go, I just wanted the Mean Girl’s reference. 

Masterlist 

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. That was the reason you were basically wearing lingerie. Plus you quoted Mean Girl’s every day, so how could you not pay homage to the iconic movie. There may have been another reason you donned the black lacy get up with the matching gray mouse ears, but you didn’t admit it out loud.

Your heels clicked on the steps as you went down Lydia’s stairs. It was best you got into your costume at Lydia’s house since you didn’t want to be going through Beacon Hills in a nighty.

You walked to the kitchen where Lydia was placing out some cups to go with the punch that was most likely already spiked. The strawberry blonde beauty turned around, her hair flipping over her shoulder like she was in a shampoo commercial for Tresemme.

“You look so hot!”

“Thanks, Lyds. Might I say you make an excellent black cat,” you replied smiling back.

Lydia placed her hands on her hips and posed, “Why thank you.”

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YES, okay you see this right guys? Someone asked so I’m not just blathering on for no reason. Ok so @icedevil242 , my first thought was to put Haru into Hufflepuff because I think the whole finding thing, general caring, good at herbology stuff all fits her. But I think she would have asked the sorting hat for anything but Hufflepuff. Why you may ask?

Because Haru’s father would definitely be a Slytherin and would have looked down on them, and lbr for a long part of her life Haru tried to be everything her father wanted in a daughter and so she begged the hat to be put into anything else and the hat answered with Ravenclaw because she does like learning, and some of her knowledge about plants etc. is specialised. 

But basically my point is, it’s not what house she is but what house she couldn’t let herself be.

Jesusss Christ. Ok. First of all “he was BASICALLY a rapist” even tho he literally NEVER RAPED ANYONE. He said and I quote “I didn’t touch her (kate) and I wouldn’t” and honestly I don’t need to explain to random internet people on why I like Nathan. I don’t care what you have to say to me because I’m a grown person and I am capable of disassociating fiction from real life. Now get off my posts would you kindly.

It’s hard to explain the attraction I feel towards him. There’s times when I can’t seem to get him out of my head but there are also those times when I am absorbed by my negative thoughts and I’m reminded why I don’t deserve him. In my eyes he’s mere perfection. He’s a breath of fresh air. I have never been so attracted to someone before. It frightens me how vulnerable I become whenever he comes around but I wouldn’t change it.

i got an anon message asking what i thought about how mahiru ended up in shsl despair and i couldn’t resist making another one of these posts. it’s getting more and more tempting to make one for every sdr2 kid. so in the same line as my posts about ibuki and sonia, here’s how a completely average girl ended up with not-so-average company.

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Preference #100: All About That Bass (Requested)-His POV…

(Got it done just in time for my sister’s birthday! You know we’re All About That Bass here, so this is my take on this request: “you’re a plus size model and he likes you but is intimidated by your size.” Sorry if it is not what you wanted when you said intimidated, but I’m actually not sorry. :P XX)

Louis: I reluctantly took my seat at the table my friend reserved for me. I was so sick of people trying to set me up. I was going to be okay if I was not in a relationship for a year or two. Not only that, but they sucked at it. Just because someone is a model does not mean that they are going to be the kind of person that I was going to date. They were all the same; we never had anything to talk about. I started taping on the table irritated after working myself up. As I looked up to the clock a beautiful girl was stepping in and talking to the reservations person. She was in a tight short black dress and heels. It was the perfect balance of classy and sexy. She was the kind of girl that I needed to be going out with: curvy, confident and just a hint of danger in her eyes. She looked around the room then thanked the woman, for a second I could swear she was walking in my direction. But then I realized she was walking in my direction, she was coming to my table. I looked to the salt, so it didn’t look like I was watching her. “Mind if I join you,” her cute voice asked and I looked up disappointed. “I honestly wish I could say no, but I’m meeting someone,” I reluctantly responded. “I’m sorry, I’m not funny,” she laughed at herself. “That was my attempt at a joke, I’m (y/n), your date,” she clarified. “No I’m sorry, I should have asked,” I said worried I already blew it. I quickly got up to pull out her chair. “Thank you,” she seemed surprised by my manners. “You’re welcome,” I responded calmly helping her scoot it back in. “You look beautiful,” I complemented as I sat back down. I was cursing the fact that I had not made any effort to bring her flowers or anything. I did not plan on this being anything more than an obligation. Conversation came very easy and diner was flying by. “Did I spill on myself,” she asked looking to her chest worried. “I do this every dang time I try to eat.” “I don’t think so,” I tried to see what she was referring to. “Really,” she pulled at the fabric and realized that it was clean. “What are you looking at then?” She caught me and I was panicking on the inside. Why did she make me so stupid? I knew why, she had a spark to her that made her body irresistible. I just wanted to run my hands down her curves. “Nothing I’m sorry, you’ve just taken me off guard tonight,” I admitted. “So he didn’t tell you I was a plus size model.” I nodded; happy she got what I was saying. “People like to leave out the first part when it’s convenient. Sorry to have disappointed you,” she said taking another big swig of her wine but did not seem the least bit upset about the situation; if anything she seemed empowered by the potential rejection. “I’m not disappointed I’m grateful. Your body is amazing, and you cheekiness is even better,” I complemented. “You haven’t had much experience with girls that look like me have you,” she asked probably noticing that I could not look away from her chest for more than 5 minutes straight. When I got nervous I looked down and when I looked down those lovelies were in my face, there was nothing I could do. “Not really, probably because most girls that look like you can’t see how great that body type is. I need a girl with confidence,” I informed her. “So what you’re saying is you want a girl who knows what she likes, and can show you what you like,” she suggested. “That pretty much sums it up,” she managed to explain exactly what she had done tonight. I never felt this strongly toward someone of that size or any body type to be honest. “I don’t know if you’re ready for a girl like me,” she challenged getting my heart racing even more. “I don’t either, if I’m honest,” she was going to be fun I could tell. “Oh, you’re defiantly not ready for me,” she sassed my response. “You wish, bring it on baby,” I said with a cocky smile ready for more of this girl.

Harry: The boys had all left the club, but I was still trying to calm myself down enough to get some sleep so I decided to just sit at the bar alone and people watch. I was scanning the dance floor with no real focus, until my eyes landed on one girl. She had a gold dress on that was caching the lights just slightly with her hip movements. The song that was playing was Miss Independent and she made it look like Ne-Yo was singing about her. She was with a group of friends, but wasn’t really settling on a partner. I wouldn’t say that her dancing was good, but she defiantly had a feel for the music. Her body was made to dance, the curves flowing with the music somehow made her crazy moves look graceful. One of the guys in the group got behind her and she used him like a prop for a few beats dismissing him shortly after, just like she had been doing with all of them all night. She was clearly just there to have a good time, but the guy looked disappointed and rightfully so. As the songs changed she managed to switch her dance moves to the beat very elegantly. She floated around the dance room charming everyone with ease. Eventually she was getting worn out and came to the bar for a drink. “Do you like my dress,” she asked. I was shocked when I realized she was talking to me. I looked at it up close, it was really simple, and probably did not do many favors for a woman’s figure, but she didn’t need it to. The dress didn’t wear her, she wore it, and she wore it well. “Yeah, it’s very pretty,” I supposed. “So is that why you have been watching me all night,” she questioned. “Was I that obvious,” I ran my fingers through my hair in terror of the situation I had put myself in. “Don’t worry about it, my friends pointed you out, I didn’t see before,” she revealed sipping her cocktail and taking a seat next to me. “So is my dancing really that bad,” she asked with a hint of playfulness in her voice. “No, you just look like you’re having a good time. You’re a great dancer, I was just admiring you,” I responded honestly. “Oh well in that case eat your heart out doll,” she put her hand on my shoulder and smiled as she prepared to strut back to the dance floor. I turned around taken off guard. She was like no one I had ever met. She just continued dancing like the whole conversation had never happened. But, since I had permission I decided might as well continue getting a free show. After a few songs she headed back toward me. “So you’re just going to complement me and then sit here and let me dance with other boys. I thought you were into me,” she huffed the second she got into ear shot. “I… I am,” I stuttered nervously. “Then why didn’t you drag me back here and buy me a drink, or follow me out there and claim me,” she asked like it was a normal question. “I can’t handle you,” I said with a smile. “What’s that supposed to mean,” she asked confused. “Exactly what I said, your over my head and out of my league,” she had both hands on her hips and I took a moment to look her up and down. She had every girl that was half her size in the place beat and I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. “Well that’s no fun,” she pouted. “Sorry,” I shrugged. “Dance with me Harry,” she demanded. “You know my name,” I questioned feeling a slight confidence boost. “Seems that way, are you going to dance with me or not,” she asked impatient. “No like I said I can’t handle you,” I was persistence. “What’s your name,” I asked curiously. “I don’t like to tell people who can’t handle me.” She pushed her lips to the side like she was thinking. “But you know what? I’ll tell you on the dance floor.” She spun away before I could argue and found a place in the middle. Except this time she did not pretend it didn’t happen, she was dancing for me, never breaking eye contact. I finally got out of my seat and prepared myself to “claim her.”

Zayn: I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the photograph. It was of a girl about my age and it was titled, “Used Up.” It was blown up to cover the wall. She was completely exposed, just barely covering the necessities with her hands. The background was of an abandon photographer’s studio but it gave the illusion that we were seeing her looking into a mirror, but we were the mirror, not on her side. She was written on all over her body, with different handwritings. More ink than skin showed. They were all of her imperfections pointed out. I figured that the hours of people coming up with insults was probably wearing for her. Having every, stretch mark, bump, wrinkle and scar pointed out could not have been easy. It showed in her face. Her eyes had bags and they were filled with water. I wondered if they actually took the picture through a one way mirror, because otherwise her acting was flawless. I wiped a tear from my eye as I looked at her face. It killed me that they used such a beautiful canvas to write such hurtful things. But then again that was probably the motive, to make you want better for her. “I’ve never seen anyone look at this piece this long, critic or fan,” a woman stood next to me and asked as I continued to study it. “Fan,” I responded still lost in the intensity of the eyes. “Not very many of those around here,” she pointed out. “Why,” I asked trying to figure it out. “Well a plus size model’s job is basically to prove that even though they are big they can still be beautiful, but this picture is not supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to be ugly. No Photoshop, no makeup, just life,” she explained. “Well maybe the wrong people have been critiquing it. People from the modeling industry wouldn’t understand. It’s not supposed to be beautiful; it’s supposed to be art. It’s supposed to make you feel something,” I remembered one of my favorite quotes. “Exactly, you should tell Randy that, because he still thinks he ruined my modeling career with this photo.” I slowly turned my head to see the girl I had been studying. I don’t know if it was the photo still floating in my head, but I had never been more paralyzed in my life. She had a hand on her hip and was smiling at the master piece. “He’s a good photographer, don’t you think,” I still could not manage any words. “Okay, I know that I manage to look a lot better on camera, but do I really look that bad right now,” she asked and that snapped me back. “No you look amazing, better in real life. I mean great in pictures too. I just didn’t know I was talking to the person in this photograph,” I rambled on. “Don’t worry about it you didn’t say anything insulting,” she tried to ease my mind. “If you like it though you should really see some more of Randy’s pieces,” she suggested. “I think I’m more of a fan of you if I’m honest,” I shakily admitted, fearing how she would respond. “Most of my photos aren’t like this one. I’m normally fully clothed, he is the only reason I could do this. It was just me and him on the studio that day,” she revealed. “So he wrote all the things on your body,” I questioned. “No, he loves me; he would never be able to think of that many. Physically he did write them though yes, but I came up with most of them, I mean I didn’t come up with them. They were things people have pointed out before,” she rambled on seeming to enjoy talking about it. “Does it upset you that it was not received well,” I questioned. “It tickles me. Not only is it ridiculously ironic, but it proves we got the point across, if the critics liked it, then we missed the mark big time.” “Well congratulate your boyfriend on the beauty of it for me,” I said disappointed. “Slow down, Randy is 42 years old, and I’m single,” she said with a hint of invitation in her voice.

Liam: When we got to the photo shoot set for our next perfume the room was occupied. “We don’t have time for this,” I observed angrily looking at the time on my phone. “Calm down Hulk, let’s just go wait for them to finish up,” Zayn suggested leading me into the room to watch the slowpokes photo shoot. “If we have to,” I grumbled figuring it was better than sitting in silence with the rest of the boys. I was shocked by the awesome music that was blasting when we stepped in. We found a spot on the open couch so that we could watch the shoot. The photographer was taking pictures of a plus size model. She was in a black bra and hipster underwear that were both trimmed with lace. But she also had a kick ass leather jacket on. It was full of studs and the stark opposite of the dainty lingerie. It was probably supposed to be a boyfriend’s jacket kind of deal. Her makeup looked like it had been through hell and back and her hair was a mess. She continued switching poses and angles, playing with the jacket and making fun faces. She carried herself so seductively, I found myself jealous of whoever owned that jacket. I mean obviously I knew no one did, but she could walk around my house like that in the morning anytime she wanted. I just wanted to grab onto her love handles and teach her a lesson for teasing. “Don’t drool on the floor Liam, Harry will hurt himself,” Zayn said not looking up from his phone. “She’s good,” I didn’t even care that he had caught me. “You going to tell her that,” he winked and smiled. “I don’t think so, I’ve never dated anyone like her before, and people wouldn’t know what to think.” He finally stopped texting and brought all of his attention to me. “I’m so sick of your attitude lately. You are getting so full of yourself. You do realize that all of this superficial skin deep bullshit is temporary right? You constantly trying to prove that you are skinny and your girlfriend is the hottest thing in the world is hopeless, because no matter how hard you hold on to it and how much importance you put on it, it will fade. Your looks, the fame and believe it or not the fans will all disappear and all you are going to be left with is the people you have loved and cared for on a level deeper than I’m not sure you have even grazed the surface of yet. So if you get a vibe from that girl, fucking jump and give yourself a chance at something that will last as long as you yourself… Besides, shame on you, she is gorgeous and anyone who thinks different can go get a life.” With that he started ignoring me again and texting his own girl. He was right and when I saw her remove her I-pod from the sound system I was sold. “That speech was flawless you’re seriously not going to go talk to her,” Zayn questioned after a few minutes as she was wrapping in a robe and getting cleaned up. “I’m still nervous,” I mumbled starting to shake at the idea of trying to get her to agree to see me again after just meeting. “Man up,” he teased pushing me off the couch and in her direction. I stumbled over to her where she was getting a quick look at a few of the shots, “beautiful,” I said looking over their shoulders. “Thanks,” she said turning to face me, “sorry for cutting into your time, last minute ideas extended the shoot length,” she explained. “No problem, I think I learned a thing or two from watching,” I said trying not to smile too big. “Doubt it, but I’m going to watch your shoot as payback,” she challenged, pulling her hair into a messy bun. “Not fair, this is your job, come watch one of my concerts,” I argued. “You get paid for this too,” she pointed out. “I’ll go to your concert when you come to my fashion show,” she came up with a better analogy. “Deal,” I blurted out. “Okay, deal,” she put her hand out to shake on it.

Niall: “Who wants to play chicken,” one of the guys at the snack table shouted. That got everyone excited and I panicked, “(Y/n),” I shouted. She looked to me questioningly. God she was so pretty, I gestured between the two of us and finished with some gestures to show her I wanted to be her chicken partner. She giggled at my ridiculousness, but I didn’t mind because her smile was adorable. “Sure,” she mothed back with a nod and continued talking to the group she was with. “Do you think I can lift her,” I asked Harry nervously. “I’m going to be straight with you, she pretty voluptuous, and she’s taller than you so she is probably a lot heavier than you think. Why did you do that?” He just shook his head oblivious. “I didn’t want one of the other guys here to get her. What do you think will happen if I can’t,” I hoped he could give me some kind of reassurance. “She will probably just pair up with that bodybuilder looking guy that is staring you down right now,” he moved his eyebrows and head to show me the guy he was pointing out. “Shit,” I breathed out more nervous than I already was and walked slowly over to her. “Ready to play,” I asked to get her attention. “Yeah,” she turned out of the group and started walking with me to the pool. I jumped in too nervous to try and hold a conversation. She crossed her arms and grabbed the bottom of her dress to gracefully remove her cover-up. Every one of her curves flowed just like the good Lord intended and I could not take my eyes off of her. She ran her hands through her hair, probably uncomfortable with my staring, but when I forced myself to look away I realized I was not the only guy to realize that fact. “Coming in,” I asked getting tired of squinting into the sun to see her. She shook her head with a smile and gracefully dropped herself into the pool. “Let’s play,” the intimidating guy from before shouted. “Ok let’s get you up,” I insisted. “Seriously,” she asked. “Yup come on,” I got under the water before she could argue. I felt her thighs situating on my shoulders, once she stopped moving I put my hands on them to steady her and built momentum as I stood up. I held her for almost a second, but then tipped over. We crashed in the water hard. I started panicking, she was going to hate me for embarrassing her, and I’d blown it. “Sorry,” I said wiping the water out of my eyes frustrated. I was taken off guard by her giggling. “You’re stronger than you look Niall, I was afraid I was going to drown you,” she joked with a laugh. Her reaction was perfect and I was taken back. “I like that you can laugh at yourself,” I informed her. “I like that you are up for a challenge,” she countered working the wet hair out of her face. Once she got her eyes cleared they locked with mine for a good minute. Then we watched the rest of the teams play out the game. Just as I dreaded, the big bulky guy made his way over the second the first round ended. “I bench 300 lb,” he said proud. “That’s cool,” (y/n) said clearly finding humor in his cockiness. “I could easily lift you, let’s switch partner’s man,” he looked to me and I had no choice but to let her go. “No thanks, we’re good,” she took me off guard by wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my rosy cheeks. He grunted and dragged his petite partner away defeated. “Sorry, I had to stop him from hitting on me,” she rolled her eyes, and I felt more secure knowing everyone saw her do that. “I can be on bottom if you want to play, I’m strong,” she flexed and wiggled her eyebrows. “No I think I can get it,” I refused to give in. “Loving the persistence too,” she winked. “But we could check out the hot tub, it might be more up our ally.” “Hot tub it is,” I said grateful for so many reasons.

It just seems like, they agree to have a certain personality or something. For no reason. Just to make things easier for everyone. But when you think about it, I mean, how do you know it’s even them? And, I mean, this whole thing with [the book] - it’s like, everybody’s in this big hurry to make this book, to supposedly remember what happened. Because if they made a book of what really happened, it’d be a really upsetting book.
—  Me butchering a My-So-Called-Life quote to explain my feelings on the Who We Are Book.