who's got it better than us

They’re too nice to fight each other what are you even talking about.

“Millennials were told that they were special, that they could be anything if they tried hard enough.”

Who were you that you were told that? Where did you grow up that you got that “just for trying” trophy everyone is speaking about? What was it like, thinking you could exceed? I lost faith in jobs in 2008 when my family lost everything. I have been working since I was 12. I never thought I was special because for every talent I had there was someone better than me. The average number of colleges applied to in my high school was 11. The average acceptance rate was 3 to 7. We knew we weren’t going to get our reach school. We knew we weren’t good enough. My friends died because of that. For every person i know who had it easy I know forty who are struggling. Who can’t afford an education or health insurance or who has to choose between feeding their family and their future. None of us ever got a trophy. And if we did it didn’t make us think we were good for trying, it made us aware we didn’t try hard enough for the real thing.

Who were you that you were never called stupid or bossy or loud or weird. Who was told that you could succeed being who you were when the rest of us had nothing. My last name meant I couldn’t be a CEO. Hispanic genes. Who were you that you never got tripped up by your sexuality, never had something denied you because of your gender. Never told to get back into the kitchen, never told that trans people are just sick. I’m just asking.

It would have been nice to have that kind of a life.

26 Reasons to Watch Heathers: The Musical

( A.K.A some of my favorite funny/weird lines ) 

1. “Homo! Homo! Homo!”

2. “Seems every time I’m about to despair, Theres a 7/11 right there!”

3. “Who needs cocaine?”

4. “Let’s rub each other’s backs while watchin’ porn on Cinemax”

5. “There’s no alcohol in here! Are you trying to poison me?”

Keep reading

somebody responded to us posting that emma watson is a clueless activist with this

and i’m just like… yeah because emma watson was born to rich parents and got sent to a freaking private boarding school in oxford and getting tutored in drama from a very young age, and landed a role in a very visible movie franchise .

like… both people who work on this blog are lower middle class at absolute best. if i had a rich mummy and daddy that sent me to rich people school and paid for a better education then maybe i would be a some kind of ambassador that makes speeches that don’t say anything as well, but instead i’m just a local activist who tries to support people in the best way she can with the resources she has.

for what it’s worth i’m from roughly the same geographic area as emma and i’m just like… maybe if i was a rich pretty cis girl i could work for the UN in promoting equality in an ineffective way too, but instead i’m working class, transgender and finding it hard to even get a job as a shitty position in the same city she went to school, all because we both played the cards we got dealt and she happened to have all aces.

jesus. think before you speak, y’know?

If we’re gonna be totally meta about it, Hibike! Euphonium was about a teenage lesbian who was crushing so hard on an oblivious straight girl, whose straightness came up when she was already in too deep. Who, along her other “friends”, kept pushing her towards a boy she literally couldn’t care less about. Gradually, she started getting over Straight Girl, and was able to move on, as she got closer and closer to another, older girl, whom she used to hate. As she was allowed to be closer to the other girl than anyone else, her feelings for the straight girl faded into a friendship, and she came to terms with her new deepening love with a most complicated girl, whom she understood better than anyone else. The series ended with her confessing, and the older girl accepted her feelings. 

And I think that’s beautiful.

Twas inspired by this song and the need to see these two smoochin ;3

Granted, my animation skills don’t give it that effectiveness, but I’m getting better I think. It’s a WIP. I MAY just color it ;)

Something about Danny Phantom that bothers me is how the show deals with bullying in regards to Danny himself, particularly in episodes like ‘Splitting Images’ and ‘Reign Storm’.

In both those episodes, Danny finally gets sick of how Dash pushes him around and uses his powers to exact revenge. He then gets taught a lesson about abusing his powers and that doing so makes him no better than any other bully. And while I can appreciate the message, the writers seem to miss one important thing: That Danny has no other way to deal with being bullied.

He can’t fight back against Dash as a human because he’ll either get beat up or punished by the teachers, or both. He can’t go to the teachers because they have blind spots for the A-listers and constantly let them get away with this shit.

He can’t go to his parents because their only choices would be to go to the teachers (which, again, doesn’t work) or transfer Danny to another school, which they would never do because Plot. So the only option left to him is using his powers against Dash, which we’re repeatedly told is wrong.

Now I’m not saying that Danny using his powers to torment Dash is right, what I’m saying is that when it comes to defending himself he’s left with no better options. And while Danny does ultimately take the high road, Dash never does, he just continues on bullying Danny until it gets to be too much and Danny snaps again and takes revenge.

The whole thing turns into a vicious cycle because the writers only deal with a symptom of the problem in Danny’s “ghostly get-backs” rather than the source, Dash’s abuse. It doesn’t matter if Danny decides not to use his powers against Dash if Dash is going to keep coming after him anyway. So the only way to break the cycle would be for Dash to get some character development and realize he was being a creep, or for Danny to settle things as a human outside of school where he couldn’t be punished for fighting Dash (although he could still get the shit beat out of him).

But for whatever reason, most likely the good ol’ Status Quo, that never happens. We just end up on the same rickety hamster wheel where Danny is the only one being held accountable for his violent relationship with Dash. And while this certainly isn’t as bad as some botched bullying stories I’ve seen (like the entirety of Severus Snape’s character in Harry Potter, where Harry is apparently supposed to be the mature one and let a grownass man in his thirties take his issues out on him), it’s still incredibly flawed.

We all get dealt cards.  Some of us get better cards than others.  And while it’s easy to get hung up on our cards, and feel we got screwed over, the real game lies in the choices we make with those cards, the risk we decide to take, and the consequences we choose to live with.  People who consistently make the best choices in the situations they’re given are the ones who eventually come out ahead in poker, just as in life.  And it’s not necessarily the people with the best cards.

Things I believe with all my heart and soul:  Obi-Wan Kenobi cheats at games. Card games, holoboard games, dice games, space paintball games, etc.  You name it, he’ll cheat at it.

And he has such an unreadable face that nobody can ever catch him at it, they suspect maybe a quarter of the time he’s got a card up his sleeve or that he moved the Holo pieces on the dejarik board or that he used the Force to turn over the dice to a better roll, but they can never prove it and eventually everyone who’s known him for longer than a week refuses to play any kind of game with him anymore.

The one time Ahsoka managed to catch him sliding a card up his sleeve for later, she crowed about it for a week, and Obi-Wan had never been prouder of her.  (He’s tried to teach Anakin how to cheat at cards, but that disaster just has no sabacc face whatsoever and can’t spot anyone else’s tell to save his life, once he gets going on a game.)

Story timeeee!! (The one that got away?)

I officially entered the bowl 8 months ago and within a month met an amazing guy on tinder (sn: ive used tinder since day one)! He’s a lawyer in his early 60s, very handsome, smells great, dresses impeccable, treated me better than any other guy I’ve ever been with to this day and most of all we were friends too. He was a white man who dated young thin attractive black women since his divorce. Listen ya’ll, this man took one look at me and asked if I was a “K” 😂😂😂😂. That’s how I knew he wasn’t lying about dating black women. He definitely had a type 💀.

Now he was never my SD per se as I never received an allowance and he never knew I was a SB. However, he would send me money if I expressed a need or distress, for nails or if I wanted to buy something (which I never fully took advantage of because again I was still a “newborn” in terms of sugaring. In other words, I was scared to open my damn mouth! I had not cause I asked not!) We dated like bf/gf only going to ATLs most exclusive 4.5/5 star resturants and frequenting the 4 Seasons, The W or Ritz whenever he was in town.

This man held open doors, took coats, pulled out chairs, handled valet, checked in before every date being sure that he sent me the correct address, made sure I was completely satisfied in every way even if that meant he had to talk to the chef himself (he’s done it before). He left NOTHING to interpretation. Anything a gentleman should do, he did. He was a wealthy white man and he used his privilege with authority yet humbly to make me happy. Best part yet? He never, ever invited me to his hotel room, kissed me or touched me at ALL! So much respect!

Well after a dating for a bit, he let’s me know that if I’ll have him, he’ll pay off my debt and put me in his will along with his two children (one is my EXACT age 😶). I could expect a very nice ring. He wasn’t proposing right then, but he wanted to be sure that I knew that he wanted this to go somewhere as “hes old and doesn’t have many good years left on earth” (his words). He said he didn’t want to waste time and that if I couldn’t be sure that I wanted to be married within a yr that he’d have to move on because he didn’t have as much time as I did. The thought of being married so young scared me but this is what we as SBs want right? And here it was at my feet only months after being in the bowl. I wanted him. I wanted this life for LIFE! Everything just lined up…almost.

We still hadn’t been sexual let alone kissed. That night we had the talk, I made a move. I was gonna see where things could go with us. I invited myself to his room. I kissed him, which wasn’t all that great, but whatever I wanted that will. He was grinding on me making old man sounds like he was about buss in his pants. I ignore it cause I’m trying to get a BMW convertible for Xmas. He sticks his tongue in my ear and literally, I fucking kid you not, starts making a noise that sounds like “sha la-la-la sha la sha la sha la-la-la”. Then……he grabs my face and proceeds to lick my makeup off my face with long strokes of his tongue and it feels like a cats tongue and for some reason, THAT breaks me and I realize I can’t do it lol. I just cannot. One of my eyebrows is halfway gone and my contour is erased. I can feel the spit drying on my skin. I start to rationalize things different.

Like this man just might fuck around and live for another 25 yrs. Can I deal with this for 25 yrs? I can’t have a sad pussy for 25 yrs. Can’t have an affair, that’ll cancel out the will. This is why I drink on dates! To take off the edge so stuff like this won’t bother me. I try to show him how I like to be kissed….he shhhh’s me and proceeds to suck my neck like a leech. I can’t. And I never do again. Now that I’m a bit more experienced and I’ve seen more shit, I’m thinking about calling him up 🤔🤔🤔. It would be hella nice to get out bowl.

You know what I just realised…

Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone:

Draco: You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there

Harry: I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself thanks

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child:

Rose: I’m a Granger-Weasley, you’re a Potter - everyone will want to be friends with us,we’ve got the pick of anyone we want

(LATER)

Rose: Yes, well we should probably sit somewhere else. Come on, Albus

Albus: No. I’m okay you go on

Rose: Albus, I won’t wait

Albus: And I wouldn’t expect you to. But i’m staying here

After talking about their family names - Rose Granger Weasley deems Scorpius the wrong sort of person to be hanging out with and leaves.

Albus chooses Scorpius despite him not being the likely choice. Even his dad doesn’t particularly like his association with a Malfoy but it’s not the family name Albus cares about, just like young Harry.

Its a direct parallel of Harry and Draco’s first meeting in reverse.

Albus can tell who the wrong sort are for himself thanks

In my absence...

Well hello there, Tumblr! Almost forgot I had an account on here. It feels like decades since I’ve been on last… probably because it has been decades. My bad. 

To say the past 28 years have been busy is an understatement. 

First off, I went to space for a couple of years by complete accident. I guess living among the stars sounded a lot better in theory than it did in practice. 

It was sad that Pops had to do what he did in order to bring us back (and we all still miss him dearly!), but I’m still very grateful because without the sacrifice, who knows how things would’ve turned out for us?

As for me, well, I quit my waitress job (management wasn’t very fond of my little space vacation anyways) and Rigby and I got married a couple of years after we got home.

And… started a family relatively quickly. Both of our daughters take a lot after Rigby. Honestly. 

In-between raising two girls and teaching astronomy at a local community college, I found the time to pursue film-making! Not anything big per se but still notable enough to be recognized regionally… it’s a start!

Now? Our girls are teenagers, the park gang as well as Margaret are still in-touch and Rigby and I have fell into the normalcy of growing old together. 

It honestly couldn’t have gone better for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is… follow your heart? Life goes by fast, so make what you want out of it? Ugh, the both of those sound so unbelievably trite. I just feel so content with everything. Thank-you all for going on this wonderful journey with me and chatting me up during my youth. It’s funny to look back on my older posts and see how much I’ve changed and how much my relationships have changed. 

I hope that all of my lovely followers experience a positive change in the same way some day. 

Till next time, 

<3 Eileen 

James Potter didn’t “change for Lily.” He grew up, urged on by the fact that a war was coming and he was the kind of person who wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he didn’t actively fight the evil forces gaining traction in his society. He matured because he was living in a world where innocent people were in danger for no sensible reason, and he realized that there were far more important things than seeking fleeting amusement and trying to look cool.

Don’t suggest that he pulled a 180 personality switch to get the girl he liked. He already knew his values, and he learned to prioritize them and use his leadership skills for better causes as he got older.

I’m so upset that Native Americans have been completely swept under the rug. We have been victims of genocide since 1492. I’m upset that native american women are sexually assaulted and abused and no one blinks an eye. I’m upset that we are supposedly “extinct” according to the history channel. I’m upset that I go to work and hear war stories about veterans killed in action in WW-II or who were Prisoners of War by widows or family members of those veterans and i see them cry and look up to the sky or a picture of their lost loved one only to log on to social media and see the people they got killed for and the country they died for turn their backs on us and destroy our land and shoot at us for protecting the land AND NO ONE SAYS A DAMN THING!

Why are Native Americans forgotten? Or a better question, why are we treated less than animals? Why aren’t we categorized as humans? Why are we mistreated? Why don’t our lives matter?

I am just. So. Sick. Of people calling in after being sick for 2 days and asking for antibiotics. I’ve got a young woman calling me because I saw her Tuesday and she’s used up all the meds I gave her (she definitely is over using if that’s the case) and is no better. Welcome to viruses, people. They last longer than 2 days.

When I tell folks that >90% of the colds are viral they roll their eyes because OBVIOUSLY they are the special snowflake who has a raging bacterial pneumonia despite not having fevers or sputum or anything.

Can someone write me a zpak to help me get over my sickness with humanity? That’s the only thing that helps me.

@flavoracle , @vorthosjay , and @ anyone else who has the art book.


So I get that Tezzeret’s a monster who must be stopped, and Baral’s evil and all that. I understand and have internalized this.

But back up a ways, to before Tezzeret was in power.

Other than government regulations on energy consumption, what did the Consulate actually do that resulted in their being a rebel faction to begin with?

Also, with the government regulations or without, how does Aether collection work with scarcity? It seems clear that there’s not actually enough to go around, as the Consulate is using all they have. Is the Consulate using their Aether inappropriately, or did the rebels merely want more than they were allowed?

Basically, I get that the consulate are clearly the bad guys NOW, but other than Baral being a renegade cop who did a bunch of things his superiors straight up did not allow, what’s the problem? They seem a lot better than anything we’ve got on Ravnica.

(Oh, and don’t claim Chandra’s execution as part of the issue. Baral’s falsified reports are on him, and as far as the Consuls knew she’d blown up a factory and a town, killing a lot of people. We could argue death penalty all day, but the fact is that basically every single plane we know of has it.)

i promised a lovely anon some bi trans leo headcanons and what better day than on trans thursday? beware, they are… a bit sad. i got carried away;

1) he figures it out from a relatively young age, mostly because of his “tia”, who keeps referring to him by he/him and using male titles for him (she knew the prophecy about him after all). it always feels right, and after a while, his very smart and amazing mom notices and starts calling him mijo instead of mija without being asked. it makes him happier, though its one of those things he appreciates much, much more later in life

2) thanks to his garbage extended family and the foster care system, his self-esteem and sense of self-worth is shot and he gets a kind of heavy dysphoria he never felt before. any kind of sga he had felt starts to get repressed; real guys like girls, right?? real guys are macho. real guys are cool. leo is small and skinny until he isnt so small and skinny in some parts and it hurts.

3) things get better when he meets piper. piper boosts his confidence and, being trans herself, offers him advice and council he doesnt think he could get anywhere else. he doesnt want it from anywhere else, either - she’s the best kind of friend there is. even if she has the strange and unearthly power to make him give her the good parts of his lunch…. seriously how does she do that…

4) ohhh so THAT’S how she does it… he thinks after a while at camp halfblood. he likes it here - he has something like family, and they just.. accepted him. called him their brother, called him son of hephestus, and he doesnt know how to handle it. it feels… strange. he likes it and he’s afraid od it all at once. he feels like he might have a home here, where he can be himself, be a man the way he was his mother’s mijo, her family, her son. he even thinks the guy who gave him the tour was trans, too. he never wants to leave, but he’s terrified to stay.

5) jason may not have been their friend for real, but he is now. it makes leo feel… guilty. jason is a good-looking guy, which makes leo jealous and… something else. something strange that he hasnt felt since he was little and he had his first crush on that boy he knew… he doesnt want it to happen again, but it does, and he cant help it. jason has pretty blue eyes and a nice laugh and hes the kind of tall and strong that makes you feel safe instead of intimidated. like a cross between superman and captain america. leo sighs to himself as he watches jason and piper slowly grow closer and thinks “and im his sidekick, lieutenant Totally Screwed”

akdhs i’ll have some more soon!!! trans leo is my jam (trans everyone is my jam, gonna rub my trans little hands over everything) so be prepared~

anonymous asked:

Lol at those petty Delena fans complaining about Ian and his 'i couldn't give a f***' face when he reunited with Elena. Like are these DE fans dumb? Ian has stated many times on how much he hates Delena and that Damon is selfish, so of course he isn't going to be happy. At least they got their abusive endgame while all us Stelena, Steroline and Stefan fans got screwed over by writers who have admitted to shipping Stelena.

Haha RIGHT. No one hates Delena more than Ian and it’s been that way since s1. He’s always been an anti and it has nothing to do with Nina.

In the early seasons he was like of course it’s always going to be Stefan. I don’t blame her, Stefan’s the better dude. And then he kept shading Damon for killing Jeremy saying he just doesn’t understand this man. And then in s6 he was all over Bamon begging for it to happen because he thought it was the healthier relationship. (to be fair he did his best acting with Kat as well)

And then when he realized none of that would work he was like, she should be with no one. Damon (and Stefan) deserve death. As long as it wasn’t DE he supported every other idea lmao.

Unspoken

Character: Lafayette X Reader

 Prompt: The reader, who shouldn’t have been out in the first place, stumbles upon a mysterious man in the woods on their way home. The two share an inaudible connection, one that might be more than they had thought. Requested by Anon

Sentence 1: (706) “You’re not alone.”


 Sentence 2: (712) “Please, don’t leave.”

 Word Count: 1,584 

W/T: Mentions of death, war, blood

 A/N: This was actually a lot of fun to write b/c I got to practice using better descriptive words, lmao. Hope y'all enjoy!

 ~SJ


 ——— 


 You weren’t supposed to be out at this time of night. Your mother had warned you about the incoming revolutionaries from the North, and how rambunctious they could be, to say the least. The memories of what your relatives’ tavern looked like after the rebels had come through their town flicker into sight, causing you to grimace. Their explosive spirits always drew the British soldiers in, and a battle was bound to happen in due time, you just hope you won’t be caught off guard, or in the crossfire.

 Readjusting your father’s coat draped over your shoulders, you shift the small wooden box that you had bought from the store in your hands, continuing down the worn dirt path toward your home. You had heard gunshots on the way, but they seemed distant enough to keep to this trail in the woods. Well, you would much rather take the short way home trough the city, but the roads were closed for construction on the town hall, so you were stuck with your current situation. The glow from the overhead moon lending enough light for you to keep track of your walk, careful not to stray. 

 The silence was deafening. Nothing seemed to stir in the trees, everything remaining motionless in the dark, refusing to even breathe. The bare tree limbs cast odd shapes across the sky, their knots and twist stretching out. The night air added a chill to the atmosphere, topping off the eerie and ominous sensation. Your chest tight with nerves, you bite your lip and keep going, your imagination beginning to take ahold of your rising fear. You couldn’t quite push back the idea of soldiers stalking you quietly, their footsteps too distant to hear. You try to shrug off the thought, straightening your back to try and convince yourself that you weren’t scared. You weren’t scared, nothing scares you. You are Y/N M/N L/N, and you are not afraid of the dark.

 Chanting this to yourself, you feel a gentle rain drop splatter against your forehead, sending an icy shiver down your spine. You glance up, seeing as the moon’s light had faded somewhat from the now incoming overcast, more inaudible pellets dropping from the sky. Quickening your pace, you hoist the heavy coat above your head with one arm, cradling the box full of trinkets against your stomach with the other. Everything seemed to be going against you at the moment, which always seems to be your luck. You just want to be at home by this point, hopefully without being drenched to the bone. 

 A single sound shatters the still air, startling you back about five feet. You freeze in place, unsure of what to make of the noise you just heard. Whipping your head around, you try to place the source of the sound, attempting to distract yourself slightly. You know what that noise was; it was a human cough, and a rather ragged one at that. There has to be someone else out here, who seems to be in a much worse condition than you by the sound of it. The cough sounds off again, this time giving you a much clearer spot to find the source. The tree just ahead of you on your right seems to be harboring the source, it’s mangled trunk hiding it from you. Cautiously, you tip toe towards the thick tree, the rain from above spilling from the sky a little faster. Stepping off of the mudding dirt and into the wet grass off of the oath, you place your hands against the rough bark of the old tree, peeking around the other side. 

 And there sat a man leaning against the base of the tree, his dark skin and dark hair causing the breath in your throat to hitch. His eyes remained shut, and his hands rested against the left side of his abdomen, obviously clutching some sort of wound. His hair was tied back into a ponytail high on his head, making it look more like a bun with how poofy it is. The icy rain pounced against his blue coat mercilessly, making him appear utterly defenseless. He coughs again, startling you slightly, making your urge to help him only grow greater. You weigh out the pros and cons quickly. He was a revolutionary, which wasn’t good or bad. You’ve seen men die before, you had helped your sister on the front line before in a battle or two as a nurse. But there was something different about this man, something so mysterious and alluring, that you couldn’t stop yourself. 

 You spin around the tree, setting your father’s coat on a pair of limbs above the man, creating a makeshift roof. You pry open the medical box you had been carrying home, hoping your family doesn’t question you about its whereabouts. You gently kneel down between the legs of the man before you, whatever heat was left in his body radiating off of your face. Gingerly, you lift his hands away from his side, taking in the size of his wound. No infection luckily, just a lot of drying blood. The mans eyes fly open, and your own gaze up to greet them, making sure he stays calm. "You’re not alone. It’s okay, I’m going to help you now.” You whisper, pulling a swab dabbed in alcohol from the crate and slowly pressing it against the wound. He winces, and you pull back a bit, waiting. “Mon ange?” He breathes dreamily, his thick accent wavering with his words as you start back at his wound. You giggle, unsure of what he just said. It sounded French, so you would think you would know some of it, but you just weren’t really focusing on that right now. “Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You reply, hoping that was what he asked for. Dabbing some more alcohol onto a new cotton swab, you clean around his wound, careful not to reopen it by breaking the thin scab that’s formed over it. “Belle…” He drifts, his eyes trained to you, watching your delicate hands move back and forth between his wound and the medical equipment. His voice seemed to be fading, and his body was growing less tense, the body heat he was emitting becoming fainter. “Hey, come on now. Stay with me here. Please, don’t leave.” You gently command, pressing your free hand against his cheek in an attempt to warm him back up.

 "Talk to me, tell me about yourself. Just stay with me here.“ He leans into your hand, almost as if he were melting. ”…Lafayette. I am Lafayette.“ He states, trying to make his voice stronger sounding. "Good.” You smile, shaking off the rain that had poured onto your back. “I’m from France.” “Oh? Tell me more, I love France.” You inquire, nudging him on. “It is beautiful there…” He stops, his eyes still glued to you. “Well, what are you doing over here then?” “Fighting for freedom.” He smirks, his accent making it sound all the more reasonable. “I see. Well I thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping defend us.” You answer as whole heartedly had you can, reaching for the bandages. “I’m going to need you to sit up for me, Lafayette.” You instruct, snaking your arm around to the small of his back, helping set him up. He struggles to do the best he can, pained grunts escaping his chiseled face. “You’re doing great, I’m almost done.” You tell him, hastily securing the bandage around his abdomen, making sure it won’t fall or come undone. 

 "There.“ You finish, admiring your work. The Frenchman smiles warmly at you, his eyes full of something you couldn’t quite place, but was almost positive that your own eyes were filled with the same emotion. "Merci, mon ange.” He answers, to which you know one of the words of which he said. “De rien. Now come with me.” You say, pushing yourself up from the damp foliage, offering your hands to Lafayette. He gives a a puzzled look to you, hesitantly taking your hands and slowly standing up. His rough fingers brush across his newly wrapped wound, mystified. “Where do you wish to take me?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed. “Out of the rain, silly.” You laugh, reaching around him and grasping the hung coat, proceeding to draw it around Lafayette. “Oh non, mon ange. I could ne-” “Don’t be silly, Lafayette.” You sigh, cutting him off quickly. “I’m not going to leave you to die in the rain. Come stay the night at my home. My family will welcome you, I’m sure of it.” You lie, knowing full well that your parents weren’t actually home, but rather staying with your relatives. 

He smiles warmly at you, that same whimsical look from moments ago reappearing in his eyes. Those eyes, those flowing, alive eyes had a hypnotic shine to them, drawing you towards him slowly. The heat from his face steadily grows closer to yours, lighting you cheeks with warmth. You close you eyes, an unspoken force overpowering you in the night rain as your lips slow press against his. A spark passes between you two, electricity jumping from his mouth to yours, a fire dancing across his lips. The icy weather pounced upon you as you squeezed his hands, the silence of your interaction spiking adrenaline inside you. You pull away bashfully, your veins racing with his body heat. 

 "Let’s go.“