a snail's pace

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🌸 Tattoo artists!Jikook for anon 🐉

How to Deaf Culture

I’m about to go attend a deaf event, so I decided to write this quick little list! A lot of my followers don’t know any ASL or even what ASL is (American Sign Language) , so here’s a guide for if you’re ever around Deaf people and how to respect them!


  •  DO NOT use the term “hearing impaired”. Good willed people like to use it for political correctness, but to the Deaf Community, it’s offensive because they are proud to be Deaf. They embrace their deafness and the lifestyle that comes with it.
  • TAP, don’t YELL. Yes, unbelievable, I know. They’re deaf. So yelling in their faces won’t help you or them one bit. Besides that, waving obnoxiously to get a deaf persons’ attention is also rude. Simply give a little tap on the shoulder to alert them, unless you’re facing their front! If coming up from behind, give a little tap! If not, a small wave will be fine.
  • ASL is not a direct translation of English. It is its’ own language, something like Korean or Mandarin or French and so forth. ASL has its own grammar structure and rules, so signing direct English is technically incorrect. If you accidently sign in PSE (pigeon-signed-english) which is direct translation, whoever you are signing with will most likely remind you/correct you to sign in the technical structure.
  • ASL is not universal. There is no count of how many signed languages there are, just like how it’s difficult to get an accurate number of spoken languages! The point is, there is British Sign Language, German Sign Language, Japanese Sign Language, and so on and so forth. For Deaf who go overseas frequently or attend international meetings, there is an improvised form of sign language, but not so much that it is a learned sign language.
  • If using an interpreter, talk directly to the deaf person. Facing the interpreter is like saying that the deaf person is not there, which is extremely rude. The interpreter will catch on and interpret even if you’re not facing them, that’s their job.
  • Breaking eye contact is rude. In the hearing world, eye contact isn’t as important because we can look at one thing but still listen to the speaker. In the deaf world, eye contact must be made while conversing to show respect.
  • “S…L…O…W…L…Y” is a no.  Many deaf persons can read lips. Does that mean you should mouth every syllable of a word at a snails’ pace when talking to a deaf person? No. It’s like having the same done to you. Also, though it may be done with good intentions, it often comes off as stuck-up/having the higher power. Speak normally.
  • Don’t be scared! The Deaf Community loves to sign and help students learning ASL. If you have basic knowledge of it, then approach them politely and introduce yourself! Especially if at a deaf event, Deaf are more than happy to warmly greet you and sign. There’s no need to hold back! Just remember that Deaf Culture is different from Hearing.


I encourage you to learn ASL/your countrys’ sign language if you’re curious! Learn from classes, because online diagrams will not give you the correct forms. Sign language is a beautiful form of communication , along with the people in the community! Remember, every culture has its differences, and Deaf Culture is no exception!

Wake up early enough to start your day peacefully. Wake up, ignore your phone, and take a deep breath, today will bring greatness. Stretch. Trust me. Spend your morning moving at a snail pace, caring for yourself and making time for all you need to do. The morning will decide your mood for the day, make sure you are at a place of happiness and gratitude.
— 

The significance of a good morning by Amy Kennedy

12/06/17

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@instishoot he’s ready for his date with mary :^)

Dream A Little Dream

Spencer x reader smutty smut smut.

“Y/N we’re gonna have to get a motel, I’ve checked online and the highways gridlocked for miles. Huge accident.”

“What if we if double back and go a different way?” You asked him, already knowing that you wouldn’t be able to drive for much longer without losing your patience.

“It’ll still take us at least three hours. It’s up to you. I can drive for a bit if you’d like?”

“No I think you’re right. There’s bound to be a motel around here somewhere. Can you call Hotch and tell him we’ll be late in tomorrow please.”

You pulled out of the fast food restaurant parking lot you’d pulled into after sitting on the freeway for the last three hours, barely moving more than an inch every few minutes. Spencer and you had been lecturing for the last two days at a colleague campus four hours away. The faculty had taken you out for a meal afterwards to say say thank you and you’d left at eight pm, meaning you should have been home by twelve at the latest. Instead, it was eleven pm at night and you’d encountered one of the biggest traffic jams you seen or read about in years. After crawling at a snails pace for three hours, you come off at the next exit to assess your options and to get food. You were tired, you wanted to sleep but you still had at least a three hour drive ahead of you both and that was in normal traffic. You spotted a sign for a motel and pulled in, seeing the parking lot was nearly full. A lot of other people on the road were perhaps having the same ideas as you were.

Spencer disconnected his call to your supervisor. “Hotch says it’s fine, the accident is all over the news. He says we can reclaim the cost of the rooms on expenses.”

You nodded and reached behind you to pull out your bag that you’d packed for the few days away, handing Spencer his, and you both exited the vehicle, heading for the reception.

“Please tell me you have two rooms free?” You greeted the woman behind the reception desk.

“Sorry darlin’. We’re down to our last one. We’ve filled up pretty quickly cos of the accident on that darn freeway.”

“Twin beds?” You asked hopefully, watching her shake her head.

“Fraid not. It’s a double. I can get you some extra bed linen in one of you wants to take the floor? Or else there’s another motel a few miles down the road.”

You couldn’t bear getting back in the car right now, you just wanted to stretch out and sleep. Turning to Reid you asked him.

“Do you mind sharing a bed?”

“If you don’t then I don’t.”

You pulled out your purse and credit card, flashing your FBI ID as the required identification and requested a receipt for expenses.

“Did you guys want any extra linen?” The receptionist asked as she slid the room key over.

“We’ll share. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

You and Reid found the room, pleased that the bed was a fair sized double, and you took yourself off into the bathroom; changing quickly into your sleep shorts and tank top, brushing your teeth and pulling your hair up.

“Bathrooms all yours.” You told your colleague as you plumped the pillows up and climbed into the bed, rolling onto your side, willing your brain to remember that you were sharing with someone so if you got warm, you could NOT strip off like you normally did in your sleep. Half the time you didn’t even remember doing it, you’d go to bed in pajamas and wake up naked and with your foot sticking out of the sheets in an effort to cool down. Not tonight, please… Not tonight.

Closing your eyes, you settled down into the pillows, feeling the bed creak a while later as Spencer climbed in beside you and got comfortable.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispered, shutting off the light.

“.. Night… ” You murmured, already half asleep.

….

You were warm, uncomfortably so.

And it probably had something to do with the arm that was wrapped around your waist and the long body that was pressed against your back. Spencer was asleep, little snuffles coming from his mouth.

So this was why Derek refused to share a room with him on cases. The genius was a sleep snuggler.

Glancing down, you were thankful to see that your tank top was still in place. Otherwise that could have been embarrassing. You wriggled, trying to gently nudge your colleague away but his arm wasn’t budging. Not wanting to wake him, you threw the covers back and closed your eyes again.

You woke again a few hours later… Or at least you thought you were awake.

But you couldn’t be. If you were awake you definitely wouldn’t have your colleagues hand on your chest.

Would you?

You wriggled again feeling the hand start to stroke softly against the fabric of your chest. It actually felt kinda nice.

More than nice to be honest, it felt… Sensual, erotic even. As his hand caressed your body, skimming over your torso and cupping your breast, massaging it lightly, you wondered what he was dreaming about.

This was not good. Except.. Oh it was. You stretched out, pressing your back against Spencers front and feeling a hard bulge pressing against your ass.

You should totally wake him up.

In a minute, you thought as his fingers brushed over your nipple sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You juddered suddenly and you felt Spencer stir beside you, his hand stilling and his breathing changing.

He was awake.

He didn’t remove his hand but you could feel him holding his breath and trying to work out if you were awake and what he should do.

What SHOULD he continue to do exactly. You’d never been in this situation before. You stretched again, pressing your ass against him and pushing your chest out so that it pushed against the palm of his hand.

He breathed in deeply and then moved his hips forward, nudging you. You very purposely rubbed your butt up and down slowly hearing a low groan.

Alright. So you knew he was awake and he knew you were awake.

One of you needed to take charge here and make a decision.

“Either roll over and go back to sleep Spencer, or carry on what you were doing, because I’m VERY intrigued to know what you were dreaming about that was making you do that…. ” You whispered.

“ You… I was dreaming about you, Y/N.” Came his murmured response. He hand resumed it’s previous activities, groping and squeezing your breasts lightly, the tips of his fingers grazing your now very alert peaks through your top. Fuck that felt good, and you let out a little gasp to let him know.

Reaching back with your arm, you placed your hand onto his hip, rubbing it over the fabric of his bottoms.

“Dreaming about… Me?” You asked him, move your butt up and down again as he teased with his thumb and forefinger.

“Mmmmm. I still think I’m dreaming.” Spencer adjusted himself behind you and you felt a pair of soft lips on your shoulder, kissing along the skin until he reached the crook of your neck.

“Same… I don’t think we… Ugh… are though.”

Spencers lips kissing the skin just below your ear, his hand travelling higher and tugging the tank top lower, slipping a strap off your shoulder and exposing your breast. His hand was now on your bare skin, your nipple catching between two fingers as his caressed you, pressing the two fingers together occasionally and pinching your bud.

“Oh fuck… ” You arched your back at the sensation, hearing Reid sucking air through his teeth as you pushed against him.

Moving on the mattress, you leant back so that you were flush against him, hooking your leg back and over his, essentially pulling his groin as close as you could to you. You actively started to grind on him now, revelling in the feel of him hard on you, the little grunts and groans he was making, egging you on. Feeling bolder, Spencers hand starting roaming further, trailing up and down your body, slipping lower and lower with each lap.

With your leg hooked over his hip, your centre was exposed to him already and you held your breath as he let his hand skate over your thighs and drag against your shorts. His fingers felt for the waistband, pushing underneath it and ghosting over your panties.

You were desperate for the friction now and you ground your butt against him harder and more frantically. He seemed to get the picture and moved his hand between your legs, dragging his fingers over your fabric covered clit. You gasped and he did it again, the pads of his fingertips pressing harder against you as he found your bundle of nerves through your underwear.

His lips suckling at your neck, he began to rub, alternating between moving the sensitive nub from side to side and up and down, the friction of your panties adding to the sensation. You pushed against him hard, feeling him starting to grind back, humping against your ass as he played between your legs.

Your moans started to get louder and more frequent, your arm reaching up and back so that it could caress the back of his head as it was buried in your neck, Spencers gasps and groans tickling your neck as they escaped his throat.

“Fuck…. Spence… Oh shit… ”

His fingers moved faster, applying just the right about of pressure at exactly the right speed as he worked himself up and down your butt, using it get himself off.

“Oh god…” He bit down on your shoulder and growled out your name, now bucking against you, his fingers working magic on your clit, the familiar tremble in your leg starting as you dragged your lip between your teeth as you started to come, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gasped through your orgasm. He shoved hard on your ass a few more times before your felt him twitch behind you, delicious grunts coming from him as he came inside his boxers.

“Jeez….fucking hell Reid… ” You whispered minutes later, when you could finally catch your breath.

You unhooked your leg and rolled away, Spencers hand retreating from you. You shifted on to your back, turning your face to face look at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Spencer replied, rolling onto his back and tugging his pajama bottoms away from his skin. You knew he must be dying to go and clean up.

“That was an interesting way to wake up, I must say.”

“Y/N I’m so sorry… I honestly didn’t mean to start groping you.”

“Hey hey…. Do you hear me complaining? Were you really dreaming about me?”

He nodded and you grinned.

“Have you dreamt about me before?”

“Erm…. ”

“Cos I’ve dreamed about you before Spencer. Just so you know…. And if you ever feel like doing that again, maybe with our clothes actually off, just let me know.” You told him.

He laughed. “Clothes off might be less messier for me… But do you think we could maybe go and see a movie or go to a restaurant before hand? Like.. Erm… A date?”

“If you’re asking me out, I’m saying yes.”

“Then I’m asking you out, Y/N.”

You smiled at each other.

“Alright. Go clean yourself up. We can still get a few hours sleep before we need to leave.”

He slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

“Spencer…. ”

“Hmmmm?” He turned to look at you.

“Is that why Morgan won’t share with you? Did you sleep grope him too.”

You laughed at the horrified expression on his face.

“I can tell you now, I have never EVER have those sorts of dreams about him.”

“Good…. Cos as much as I like Morgan, I’d hate to have THAT in common with him.”

Vampire Bat Boyfriend


I’ve gotten a lot of requests for vampires and a few for a bat monster, so vampire bat is here!

  It’s dark when you get home, then again it always is. You use to think working the late shift would be easy and fun, it’s only you and your coworkers in the store. You didn’t consider that the walk home would be so terrifying. You’ve started keeping your box cutter with you in your bag as well as a can of pepper spray on your keychain. You would ask your coworkers for a ride home, but some of them are gone before you even lock the front door.

  That was before though. Now as you make your way home you hear the familiar flapping above you and as you stop to look up he lands before you. He kneels then stands, towering above you as he kneels down and kisses you.

  “Did you just wake up?” You ask as you wipe the crust from the corners of his eyes, having to stand on tip-toe to reach.

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The Best way to describe my feelings

the touken ship was going at snail pace and I was happy for the little things but now Ishida got the ship going faster than Usain Bolt on the back of a cheetah and I just gripping that cheetahs tail trying my best to hold on I am just overwhelmed!

Me or the Motorcycle?

Request: Idk if you are still talking requests but I love the idea of a Bucky x reader fic or smut where Bucky gets a new motorcycle and she’s reader admiring it so he offers to take her for a ride! Ps I love your work

Summary: You and Bucky have always had sexual tension, neither of you acted on it for different reasons; the tension snaps after the two of you go for a ride on his new motorcycle together. 

Warnings: Some smutty smut, a little angst, uhm…I think that’s it? Oh! Metal hand kink!

A/N: Hahaha I know nothing about motorcycles, I apologize in advance. 

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woke up with two furry butts in my face today

(I literally can’t believe I went to the lengths of drawing this stupid thing to procrastinate drawing something else)

Dreams come slow, like snail pace slow, a bit of a I don’t know if this is ever going to happen excruciating pace. That is why so many fail to follow their dreams, some begin and give up, don’t let that be you. If you want something you have to be prepared to give your all, to fight until you cannot fight anymore, to push what you want to be to a whole new level of effort. Then, and only then, will you see it is worth every ounce of doubt and every drop of motivation.
— 

I’m trying here by Amy Kennedy

15/02/17

Like this? Check out the book here!

Robin’s Nest: Part 17

Prompt: What if the robin’s were batmom’s and bruce’s biological kids?

AN: Wifi is currently moving at snail pace. I’ll post the links to previous chapters later today.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 , Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16


Your family is a lot to handle. As the matriarch, you know this. However, you don’t really understand how much they are until Duke comes into your lives. Cass had come from a horrible situation, but a familiar one. Bruce knew how to deal with her training. Duke’s situation is completely different.

    The boy had come from a loving home, with two wonderful parents. You’d read up on them, and with Duke’s help, you’d written their obituaries. In the days leading up to the funeral, you can’t help but worry. He barely eats anything, and he leaves the room when more than three people are in it.

    The only one who doesn’t seem surprised is Alfred. When you question him about it he says, “The poor boy is grieving, Mrs. Wayne. His entire world has been turned upside down, he’s in a brand new environment, and to be quite honest, your children can be a lot to deal with.”

    You purse your lips, “So Bruce went through the same thing?”

    The old man smiles, “Master Bruce was quite different. With him I had to deal with him risking his life, and other odd entities.”

    You roll your eyes, “Of course. What changed that?”

    The butler smiles, “You, Mrs. Wayne. You pulled him out.” Without another word, you watch the butler go.

    You lay in bed awake the night before the funeral, and without thought you send you arm flying so that your hand lands right on Bruce’s face. You feel him smile, before he kisses it. Turning towards you he asks, “Can’t sleep?”

    “I’m worried about him, Bruce.”

    “Me too.” There’s several minutes of silence before you toss the covers aside.

Bruce groans, “Don’t go, the bed will get cold.”

You smile, “Well I should hope so, I’m going to get ice cream.”

He smiles back and says, “Alfred will kill us for eating upstairs.”

“Then we shouldn’t leave any evidence.”

You make your way through the Manor, and you’re a bit surprised to find the kitchen light already on. You find Duke at the island with a plate of leftovers in front of him. You hesitate before walking in. He looks up and meets your gaze.

There’s a few minutes of silence before you say, “I came down to sneak ice cream. Do you want some?”

It doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t respond. Instead of pushing, you head to the fridge, and then you hear, “What kind is it?”

You smile, “Cookie dough. I keep it hidden behind the broccoli, but that’s just between you and me, but I’m willing to share.”

He nods, and you pull out two bowls. You scoop generous servings into each and slide a bowl in front of him before pulling your own bowl in front of you. You don’t push him to talk, you wait for him to make the first move, “I’m dreading tomorrow.”

You meet his eyes, before sticking a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth, “I get it. My parents’ funeral was horrible.”

“Your parents?”

You nod, “They died in a car accident when I was eight. My grandmother raised me until she died when I was sixteen. Since then, it’s been Bruce and me.”

You watch him play with his ice cream, “Why was it so bad?”

“There were a lot of people there that I didn’t know, all saying how sorry they were. I was tired of hearing sorry by that point. Sorry didn’t bring them back, and none of those people could understand how I felt. Everyone’s pain is different. And losing parents at a young age is just…”

He nods, “Yeah. You think it’ll be that way for me?”

“There’s a good chance. That being said, Bruce and I have both been there, we have a few tricks.”

“Bruce has been there, too?”

“It’s one of the things that brought us together. Bruce’s parents were killed when he was eight too. But he had a lot of focus on him, being the Wayne heir. Alfred kept him pretty sheltered.”

“What tricks do you have?”

You smile, “Sandwich yourself between me and Bruce, use the other kids as shields if you need to. They know how to deal with people who might not have the best intentions.”

“You think there will be people like that?”

You sigh, “If only because of Bruce and me, I’m sorry in advance. We draw a lot of press attention, and there’s not a whole lot we can do about it. Now you’ll have to deal with it too. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be.” You meet his eyes, and he gives you a small smile, “Bruce saved my life, he didn’t have to do anything else. He didn’t even have to do that. Instead he stayed with me, he was there every time I woke up, and then you guys took me in. You guys didn’t have to do that.”

You blink back tears, “Duke, I want you to know… we know we can’t replace your parents. We don’t want to, either. We do want to be your family, though. I know the kids are a lot to deal with. Damian and Helena are a pair of hellions, Lord knows, and Dick loves to flip around, and Jason and Tim bicker, and Cass has this ability to sneak up on you…”

Duke reaches over and places a hand on yours, “Thank you for giving me a home. Thank you for being here. I look forward to being a part of this family.”

With a smile, you stand up and walk over to him, and then you wrap him in the tightest hug you can. He hugs you back, and a moment later, he starts sobbing. You hold him until he falls asleep. When the sound of light snores hit your ears, you feel a hand settle on your shoulder. Turning, you smile at Bruce, and watch as he effortlessly lifts your newest son into his arms.

Together, you put him to bed. You stand there, watching him sleep, with Bruce next to you. You stare at his sleeping face and you know, he’s your son. He’s one of your kids.

Pecans

Chapter Five

I’m going to leave the warning from the original -cuz it makes me laugh:

Warnings: Usual warning of super fluff ahead…. and there are some dirty bits ahead. :::ducks behind computer, blushing and giggling like a school girl::::

(Oh, how innocent I once was….)

As always, please let me know if you want on/off my tag list! :)

Master List

Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three *Chapter Four

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anonymous asked:

People use death of the author to talk about racial, consent and DLC issues in ASOIAF, but they also use the authorial intent to explain why the series is optimistic in spite of its darkness. How do you personally reconcile those two views?

Textual analysis. My starting and ending point always lies with the text and what it’s telling me. I never have a conscious method of reading when I start a book; I do not go in deciding that everything that the author says does not count, or, alternatively, seeing his interviews as something that trumps the actual text. It’s the text that has my attention and that forms my understanding of the author’s point. More often than not, when I say “GRRM makes a point” or “GRRM argues” it’s not a direct quote from Martin that I’m relying on but rather the themes and motifs he is depicting in his story, which is what I personally use to argue that yes, asoiaf is not grimdark but is actually a rather hopeful story. It’s not a matter of authorial intent as much as it is a matter of analyzing the text itself. I don’t know what Martin said about what kind of story asoiaf is (I’ve never finished So Spake Martin and I’m very bad at following his interviews or retaining much information when I do read them) I’m simply sitting here with the text, trying to pull threads together and connect them to bigger overarching themes. Understanding Martin’s writing patterns and what kind of writer he is certainly informs my understanding of the text, but it does not overpower it. Personally, I use Martin’s comments as a complementary addendum to the source material since he offers some additional info or puts some events into perspective. But if what the text is telling me does not match what he is telling me it was meant to convey, though, you bet everything I’m going with the text. The text is what matters.

Usually, when the writer is good, it would be rare to find points of incompatibility between what they meant to convey with their writing, and what they actually wrote. Martin is very, very good and thus there aren’t many instances of incompatibility, but they are a few. For example, he is not the best with dealing with consent issues, so when he doubles down on the claim that, unlike how it was portrayed on the show, Dany’s relationship with Drogo was not rape, I’m sure as hell not going to prioritize what he is saying over the text that, quite clearly, frames it as rape. Dany was 13, a child by even in-universe standards, sold into a marriage that she begged her brother not to go through with. She told Drogo no repeatedly and only acquiesced after he continued touching her despite her objections till she was aroused. That’s not consensual sex. Dany was not even capable of consenting to sex because she was 13. For someone who did such a good job with depicting how traumatizing Cersei’s rape of Lancel was and who framed it as very, very wrong, it is disappointing that he continues to dance around the fact that Dany was raped by Drogo. But no matter what he says, I’m going with the text.

That said, there are things in the books that garner criticism that actually can’t be attributed to an argument between death of the author vs authorial intent, such as the Dead Ladies Club. What even is Martin’s authorial intent here? What did he want to tell us, that these women did not matter? It’s not a question of the death of the author, it’s that Martin portrayed these women as mere vessels, as victims, as idolized versions of who they were, but never bothered to flesh them out or give them a voice or any interiority. Similarly, the racist writing frequently shown in Dany’s story, and to a lesser extent, in Dorne isn’t due to Martin trying to make a point and failing, but rather uncritical and casual usage of racist tropes prevalent in several genres. I find it difficult to talk about authorial intent here because while I believe Martin did not mean to impregnate his writing with these implications, I don’t see a point to what he actually wrote. Authorial intent isn’t a magical excuse to be used to argue that the author did not intend for X story to come across that bad or with these problematic implications, it’s about the author trying to convey a meaning or a point with his writing that we’re meant to pick up on. I fail to see what Martin meant to say when he wrote the Dothraki or the Ghiscari, or when his portrayal of the Dead Ladies club boiled down to “she died”.