and then i cried all the way home

Harry Potter Read-aloud Liveblog

I knew to expect it - but I’m honestly shaken by how different my kids’ experience of HP is than mine was. Reading the first three chapters so far to a group of tiny people who were all, at one time, orphans - it’s honestly been hard.

My daughter whose birthmom died last summer has cried for Harry every day, because she understands. My kids who were abused and neglected in foster homes before getting to me are ANGRY about his treatment by the Dursleys in ways that I never was until I became a foster parent. They’re loving and enjoying the book, don’t get me wrong - but there’s hard emotional work for them here that I never had to do as a kid. I’m doing it now, though. I’ve never ever been so desperately excited for Hagrid to come and rescue Harry.

I was at a board meeting tonight and we open each meeting with an invocation. A man on our board, an immigrant from Central America, led that invocation by praying for immigrants and refugees in this time of university and for God to protect us all.

When I left that board meeting I had a CNN update on my phone that Trump had rescinded protections of transgender students in public schools.

On my way home I listened to MSNBC in the car. They were playing one of the many town halls happening right now. I heard the desperate pleas of a mother whose son will lose his ability to be insured under the new healthcare plan being proposed. I heard her congressman talking, dispassionately, over her desperation.

I got to my garage, parked, and just cried at the everyday reminders of how our government is so poised, willing, and able to sacrifice our humanity.

They sacrifice our humanity for money.
They sacrifice our humanity for power.

We need to sacrifice them at the ballot box in two years.
Do not stop fighting.
Do not lose your passion for what’s right.

i am obsessed with the reoccurring use of ‘the girl in the dress’ in ‘dear john’, and i have always thought it was such a clever use of language. the way she is being described by only two identifying features, being a ‘girl’ and wearing ‘a dress’ suggests the purely sexualised way that ‘john’ sees the narrator, and draws on sexist stereotypes  by suggesting that he sees her as weak and defenseless because she is so ‘typically’ feminine. the lack of names and descriptions also means that this could be any one of the ‘long list of traitors’ in ‘john’s’ life crying the whole way home, which shows how they are interchangeable and completely replaceable to him like material objects. i think this is so interesting and think it works as a comment on the objectification of all women in society, as well as the victim-blaming culture we live in. far too many women have been that girl in the dress who cried the whole way home, and rather than blaming the man who caused their emotional trauma, those suffering women have just been told that they ‘should have known’ and the narrator’s first instinct is to blame herself. it’s essentially a parallel of the ‘they were asking for it’ ideology. the best part is how taylor subverts this though, john is then portrayed as someone who plays with fire, through the image of the girls that he has ‘burned… out’. the song then flips the narrative when the narrator steals his matches and sets the town alight, because if john was playing with fire… well then he was obviously asking to get burned, right? the narrator knows this as the final lines fade out with her changing ‘i should have known’ for ‘you should have known’. it’s calling out double standards at it’s finest

heartbeat | part one

part one // part two

Originally posted by yoo-ngie

[Yoongi x Reader | Jungkook x Reader]

Genre: Angst, Fluff for now

Words: 5221

—> The exact moment you experienced heartbreak with Min Yoongi would be a moment you’d remember forever.

A/N: AHHHH. I desperately wanted this to just be one entire fic, but ended up breaking it into two parts because I haven’t posted a fic in like… months lmao. I felt like a fraud for calling myself a writer, but not posting shit. So yeah, idek what this is but I hope you all enjoy it! xoxo


The exact moment you fell in love with Min Yoongi would be a moment you’d remember forever.

Keep reading

How do you describe your parents?
  • Himawari: Papa and Mama are the best! Papa is a-
  • Boruto: *interrupts* BAKA! Who needs a stupid old man when you have a beautiful strong mama!
  • Hinata: Boruto! That's not nice to say about your father.
  • Naruto: Don't worry Hinata! It's fine..
  • Boruto: I hope the Ramen shop gets shut down.
  • Naruto: Take it back child!
  • _______________________________
  • Sarada: Mama is always there for me and whenever I'm ill, she lays beside me. Whereas, papa will protect no matter what!
  • Sakura: Aw that's nice to say.
  • Sasuke: I will protect here no matter what! Even from that little pikachu banana shaped head brat!
  • Sarada: That's not nice to say about Boruto... I mean....
  • Sasuke: Oh no...he has got into you. Don't worry, my child, I will erase those feelings and let you become free.
  • Sarada: Papa?!!! No, I don't have any feelings for Boruto.
  • Sasuke: Not even one bit?
  • Sarada: I....
  • Sasuke: *activates sharingan* I'm coming for you Uzumaki brat!
  • Sakura: Darling...calm down
  • _______________________________
  • Mitsuki: My mama...my papa......let's just say that I have a parent.
  • Orochimaru: *smiles* Im his parent.
  • Mitsuki: My parent has trained me and taken care of me and feeded me and...I'm not sure if I should my parent my mama or my papa....it's confusing...
  • Orochimaru: I'm just an amazing parent. *flicks his hair*
  • _______________________________
  • Shikadai: My dad is an hardworking man and he is always here for dinner.
  • Boruto: *interrupts*
  • UNLIKE MY FATHER!!!
  • Shikadai: Buzz off Boruto....
  • Boruto: *fades away*
  • Shikadai: anyways, my mother is......erm...
  • Temari: *gives a scary look to Shikadai*
  • Shikadai: is an amazing woman. I love her to bits. She is so strong with her wind fan. I love my mama...
  • Temari: Hmph *smiles*
  • Shikadai: What a drag.....
  • Temari: You just thought 'What a drag' didn't you, Shikadai?
  • Shikadai: How...do you.....know?
  • Temari: No dinner for you!
  • Shikadai: *cries inside*
  • ___________________________
  • Inojin: My mother is so beautiful and that's how I got these looks
  • Ino: Aw my cute child.
  • Inojin: Papa is so happy to see me all the time. We go shopping and training together.
  • Sai: That's right!
  • Inojin: ...and he always tells me his jokes about mama!
  • Ino: Jokes?! What kind of jokes?
  • Sai: ....
  • Inojin: *whispers to Ino*
  • Ino: *blushes* SAIIIIIIII!!!!!
  • Sai: I should run....
  • ___________________________
  • Chocho: Mama shows me how I am strong and beautiful in every way. My mama tells me that I'm not fat. It's just my curves and I love her home made food. Papa and me always get along. We go to restaurants and eat, we go to parks and eat. We even go to shopping eat. And buy most things from the shop! Even his card got declined!
  • Karui: Are you serious?
  • Choji: Hehe....
  • Chocho: I love them both!
  • ____________________________
  • Kiba's child: Mama is so nice to me. She will always be there to kiss me to sleep and wake me up in the morning. She makes nice breakfast and a warm hug. Me and mama are always studying and training together and my grades are doing very well and my strength
  • Tamaki: I'm glad you like it, my kitten.
  • Kiba's child: Papa is so fun! We go to the park and he lets me ride on Akamaru and we jump from cliff to cliff!
  • Tamaki: Wait, what?!
  • Kiba's child: There was even a time when me, Boruto and papa jumped from the Hokage's faces and we landed on soft bouncy mattress.
  • Tamaki: WHAT?! KIBA?!!!!
  • Kiba: ...gotta go *sprints away*
  • ________________________
  • Metal Lee: Papa and I are always training because we both do it for youth and mama makes me warm and happy. Even when I get nervous!
  • Lee: That's my boy!
  • Metal's Lee mother: My little cute dragon.
An open letter to the girl who saved me today

When I went into the store today after work, I had decided I was going to be brave. I had a pretty good day, and I wanted to reward myself with something I’d been eyeing for quite some time. Mens underwear.

I won’t lie, I stalled quite a bit before I slunk over to the mens underwear section, but eventually I wound up in the aisle looking over my various options. It was while I was trying to figure out what size I would be, that the man is all his socks and sandals glory came into the aisle. I barely had time to look up before he bellowed at me, “you fucking abomination”

I gaped like a fish while I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that yes, this was happening, and yes, he just yelled that at me. He said it again, and began to make his way towards me, very tall and very angry looking. All the clever things I wanted to say died in my throat and tears started pooling in my eyes.

Just as he was getting right up in my face, telling me about how there wasn’t a single god from any religion that would accept a piece of shit like me, you appeared at the end of the aisle. You ran towards us and put yourself between me and him like you weren’t a tiny 5 ft nothing. Then you stuck your finger in his face and told him to “shut the hole in his head that was spewing ignorance and hatred and get out because he wasn’t welcome here”. It was his turn to be the fish then, and before he could say another thing you shouted “GET THE FUCK AWAY” drawing the attention of shoppers who had been so conveniently hard of hearing before. He tucked tail and left.

You turned to me then, put the underwear I had dropped back in my hand and asked if I was okay. I was sobbing and could feel my face doing the ugly thing it does when I cry. I nodded, you asked me if there was anything else I wanted to look at in the mens section, I shook my head. You asked if I had anymore shopping to do. I huffed out that I wanted some bananas. You took my hand and lead me towards produce. You told me I was beautiful. You told me I would look so handsome in the underwear I picked. You helped me pick out bananas and told me my future was so bright and wonderful it was practically blinding. 

You held my hand all the way to the cashier, and then outside. You asked me if I wanted a ride, I told you I’d like to walk, that I needed some time to cry. You stared at me very seriously, then hugged me so hard I could feel all me pieces coming back together. You said “I don’t even know who you are and I don’t care, I love you”

I cried all the way back home. 

Thank you. Thank you for everything. For who you are, and for what you did. Plenty of other people passed by and did nothing, but you came in like a shining beacon and all I can say is thank you. You saved me when I was all alone. Thank you.

Meant to Be - Part Two: Hey

All Parts

Pairing: jamilton (Hamilton x Jefferson)

Request: Soulmate AU – When soulmates draw on themselves, it appears on the other’s skin as well. (Also Modern High School AU)

Tagging: @elenarte @empyrealsakaki @gum-and-chips @karenthepoop @hammytrashy @falling-open @bestfluteninja @urstupidmom @olympun @rebel-with-cause @mishaisakitten @depressionjoke @gemilton @ur-friendly-neighborhood-fangirl

Word Count: 1912

Warnings: swearing, anxiety, allusions to suicide

A/N: OKAY Y’ALL, first off: thank you so much for all the amazing love and support you’ve given this fic already! it means so much to me and i am so truly grateful for all of you. second: I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and I’ll keep trying to put one out every other day! 

that’s all, enjoy  <3


Alex

Alex

Alex

Alexander glared at the writing on his arm, feeling his anger building as he walked back home in a blind rage. He bounded up the stairs to his apartment, trying to ignore the writing that was covering his arm.

Please talk to me

I’m sorry

Please

Alex

Alex

Alex

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SPOILERS

As if sensing my thoughts, Lucien said, “You don’t need to waste your time convincing me. I get it. I get … I get that we were not what you wanted. Or needed. How small and isolated our home must have been for you, once you saw this.” He jerked his chin toward the city, where lights were now sparking into view amid the falling twilight. “Who could compare?” 

I almost said Don’t you mean what could compare? but held my tongue.

I know there are multiple ways to read this but. My baby ginger was so upset that he lost his bff :(((((

I told this story about refugees a couple years ago on Veteran’s Day with a humorous slant. I’m going to tell it again today, unfiltered.

Years ago, on my first deployment to Iraq, I befriended a local boy, Brahim, who would quickly become one of our interpreters. He was able to do so, because the turnover rate for local nationals work with us was enormous. And not because they quit, because they were killed.

Besides the money, we were able to get them to volunteer with us by promising them refugee status in the U.S. if they completed a tour. (But really, I think the chain of command knew that most interpreters wouldn’t make it through their contracts alive.)

Anyway, Brahmin would tell me about all the family members he lost in the conflict–brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, all of em. He told me how he lived in a one bedroom house with 7 people. No clean, power every other week because of the rolling blackouts, etc.

He told me how they did have the basic necessities most days and that him volunteering with us was one of their sole sources of income. One day, I went down to the PX and bought him $20, maybe $30 worth of toiletries. Nbd really. Just didn’t want dude to smell like shit.

When I presented it to him, he cried. Literally bawled his eyes out and said he give his life for me. OVER SOAP. Completely sobering. He spent the next year acting as our liaison, providing us with valuable intel, essentially saving our lives on a daily basis. At 16.

At the end of my tour in Iraq, I knew I was leaving him to die. I knew I’d never see him again. Was just kinda like “take care kid.”

Fast forward 5 years. And I’m flying home to Phoenix to bury my little brother who was brutally murdered. (Gun violence is another subject.)

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I cried my eyes out all the way from Hawaii to Arizona. Fucking brutal. Spend 6 years fighting wars and you don’t expect to get a phone call that your kid brother was randomly murdered in a carjacking. 

Anyway, I land in Arizona and it’s pouring. Hop off and walk down to the taxi stand. (Uber’s weren’t really a thing in 2013.)

I get in the first taxi that pulls up and we’re off. Driver starts to make the standard small talk. Where you from, what do you do, etc. I tell him I just got out of the military and blah blah. He says “oh great. I love the military. You ever travel anywhere?” Tell him, “Sure. Been to every corner of the globe. Africa, Afghanistan, Iraq, etc.” He says “Oh! I’m from Iraq! What part?”

I say “Kirkuk, mostly.” And he says “I’m from Kirkuk.” And then gets really fucking quiet. Like awkwardly quiet. Making me nervous quiet.  My first thought is I killed one of his family members and he recognizes me. And now I’m literally getting ready to bail out of the cab.

I see him staring at me in the rear view. I can see the anguish in his eyes. And then he starts to PULL THE CAB TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.

He stops, turns around and says, “Dylan, you remember me? It’s me, Brahim.” And I’m like wtffffff. And just start sobbing. We got out of that taxi off the I10 and Rural and hugged it out on a bridge in the rain on some Notebook shit. I didn’t ever care, man.

So I’m like WTF ARE YOU DOING IN FUCKING ARIZONA?! HOW? MAN WHAT? And he’s like I did my 4 years and they gave me a visa. They gave him some cash and a one-way ticket to the States. Asked him where he wanted to go, and he said where the weather is like Iraq.

So they sent him to Arizona.

5 years after I left him in Iraq and a few days after my younger brother was violently murdered, the universe linked us up again.

Brahim literally saved my life, twice.

Lost one brother, and got another one back. 

(had to share this amazing story here. link to the original twitter thread)

Work Comes Home - Part 8

Summary: You work for the company that publishes Hamilton: The Revolution.

Words: Approx. 6100

Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who read this over (@ourforgottenboleros​, @secretschuylersister​, @letsgiggletogether​: your enthusiasm and excitement honestly helps me to write this. @iwrotemywayto-revolution​ THANK YOU for fixing my horrible grammar - you’re amazing.) Let me know if there’s any little mistakes, I can go in and fix later <3

Ask Me Anything

Disclaimer: I’m sorry for any pain, there’s a few more parts left in this story so please stay with me. Feel free to yell at me all you like because I UNDERSTAND. Again, the timeline is definitely a little weird and artistic liberties were obviously taken in reference to the publishing industry. 

Warnings: Angst, maybe swearing

Tags@hoppybunnny​ @doctorstethoscope@smileystumph​  @invisiblerambler​ @lookingformygus @theselfishllama @genericusernameblahblahblah @musicals-lin @ruth-hamilton-delrio

Keep reading

Feelings

Reader x Klaus Mikaelson

(NOT MY GIF)

*requested

Imagine: You are Rebekah Mikaelson’s best friend and, ah, a mermaid. She brough you home in a gesture act. What she did not expect was that her brother, Klaus, would fall for you and, whilst doing so, he win your heart over.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, some violent descriptions (not that big of a deal), mentions of sex, fluff

Word Count: 4250 (i think i broke my record with this one)


Patiently waiting for Rebekah Mikaelson, who happened to be your best friend for quite some time now, at a bar, you thought of how much your life had changed in the past year. All because you were forced to abandon your mermaid nature after one reckless night you spend at a forbidden cave; sure, your mother had warned you what would happen if you went there during a full moon, but you always thought she was just being an overprotective mum. Ultimately, she was not, for the next morning you woke up entirely naked. Oh, and with freaking legs instead of your blueish tail as well.

A gentle chuckle left your lips when you remembered the stunned looks the humans gave you once you managed to get out of the cave. Nudity can get them incredibly nervous.

“I presume you’re waiting for my sister, love.” A masculine voice, soaked in a marvellous British accent, said. “May I keep you company?”

“Suit yourself, Niklaus.” Your reply was short, straight to the point. “But I warn you she’ll be mad if she finds you here.”

“I know how to deal with Rebekah.” He smirked, sitting on one of the chairs and facing you with those deep blue eyes. “You know that.”

Keep reading

Here goes. This is the weakest I’ll ever be with you. I’ve missed you. Some days not all. But I was fine, I was doing really okay and I think every time I’m doing my best that’s when you come and fuck it all up. You were a huge disappointment. You repeatedly let me down on days I needed you most, where I needed you to comfort me and just love me. You were not there for the longest time. So you can see why it’s hard to trust you again? Telling me I’m the one does not convince me as much as I want it to it doesn’t because you’ve crushed that hope of mine that YOU were the one and I was that to you. Because you don’t treat people that way you don’t when you’re in love with them. I can’t tell if I miss the idea of you or if I miss you. I’ve been crying a lot because you give me so much anxiety and I’m afraid of making the wrong decision. I hate that you’re doing this while you’re not here because I just want to see you I want to yell at you I want to hug you and I want to kiss you but I can’t. And the anxiety is eating me alive because I want to just call you and talk to you about everything. You know me I’m the kind of person that needs to deal with things at that moment. And I can’t do that yet. I’m really terrified. I don’t think it’s because I’m Afraid of how much I think I love you but how much you’ll hurt me next. Let’s face it, you’ll hurt me again. You do not know the pain I felt losing my best friend so many times and me always being so good to you. And now I leave for 2 Months and now I don’t want to anymore because I want to stay with you. What does that say about me really? That I let any person control my life? I want you to call I want you to talk to me I want you to annoy me because I really don’t want to stop talking until you come why can’t you fucking see that? You’re proving everything I’ve said about you and you don’t seem to care. and it hurts. You brought back all this pain and anxiety you don’t see that either. Im thinking about how I felt when you left every time, how you literally broke me. There’s no other way than to describe it that way. The night I called you drunk was because this guy kissed me and I instantly left and went home and collapsed onto the floor and just cried. All i wanted was you. It made me sick to my stomach kissing someone else. Im trying to believe you. Im trying to believe you’re different I just don’t see how that is true or how you will prove it. I think the number thing I hate about myself is that I am a pushover. I will always forgive you and I hate that. I hate that Im talking to you, I feel weak for even crying about you right now. But I want to get back to where we were. I want you to make me fall in love with you again, I truly do. I’m just scared Im so fucking scared of leaving now and I don’t know what will happen when Im gone. But were not talking right now, and I don’t know what I think of that. You’re proving me right, i hope you see that. So idk what I’m trying to say here I really don’t. But just call. Fuck, just call please. 

Stay

Summary: You have some very important news to tell Shawn, but you’re not quite sure how he’s gonna take it.

Requested: Sort Of

I ran a hand through my hair as I paced around Shawn’s empty dressing room. I found out some news a few days ago and I’m not sure how he’s gonna take it. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. I have to tell him though. He deserves to know. It would be cruel of me not to tell him. I let out a frustrated growl as I sat on the couch. What’s the worst that can happen?”

With that, I forced myself off the couch and made my way to the stage where Shawn is doing soundcheck. I tucked my hands in my pocket, trying not to talk myself out of this. I walked out to the isles of seats and stood in the middle of the walkway.

Shawn was playing his guitar and smiling at the crew as the made up silly lyrics. He busted into laughter and high fives a guy after the track was over. He looks so carefree. This is what he loves and who am I to rip this away from him. I feel my heart plummet to my stomach as Shawn turns around and spots me, sending me the biggest smile I’ve seen in a long time. I turned around and started toward the arena door, trying to conceal my tears from Shawn’s view.

“I’ll be right back.” I hear him say. Crap. I speed up my walking and make it out the double doors just as Shawn is grabbing my arm, turning me around. His face drops as he takes hold of my face, wiping the tears away. “Hey hey hey, What’s wrong? What happened?”


“I have something to tell you and I don’t know how you’re going to take it.” I explain. Shawn suddenly stood up straight and examined my face. He looked down and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Who is he?” He asked through clenched teeth, catching me off guard.

“What?”

“Who is he and how long has it been going on? I swear, Y/n, if you say it’s Cameron, I will-“

“You think I’m cheating on you? You think I would do that to you with your best friend?” I asked hurt clear in my voice.

“Why else would you be so nervous to tell me something, Y/n?”

“Because I’m pregnant!” I say raising my voice a little bit. Shawn freezes.

“What?” He says, the color drained from his face. A few minutes pass and Shawn is still standing there, speechless.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I said, tears starting to well up in my eyes again. I start to walk away when Shawn grabs my arm again.


“Wait, I’m sorry. I just… it’s a lot.” He says placing his hands on my waist. I lean into him and rest my head on his chest. “How long have you known?”


“2 days.” I feel Shawn stiffen under me.  

“How far are you?” I take a deep breath.

“If I got my math right, the last time we had sex was when you were frustrated about your tour work so… 2 months tomorrow.” I slowly break away from Shawn and look at Shawn who seems to be deep bin thought. “I should go.” |

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I don’t belong here anymore Shawn.”

“Why does it sound like you saying goodbye?” He asks. I closed my eyes and try to hold back my tears.

“Because I am.” I reply. Shawn shakes his head.

“No.” He replies with a stern voice. I know he’s not going to let me go easily, but I have too. I open my mouth to say something, but the door behind us opens.

“Sorry to interrupt but, Shawn if you want the show to start on time you need to get dressed.” Someone from the crew notifies him. Shawn nods.

“I’ll be a second.” With that the person leaves and I cross my arms around my torso.

“Have fun at your show. I know your gonna kill it.” I said. Shawn rubbed his eyes.

“Why do you keep saying goodbye?” I could hear the hurt in his voice.

“Because I don’t want to hold you back! I don’t want to be the reason you can’t go out and live like an 18 year old pop star should! I don’t want you to miss amazing opportunities all because you have a pregnant girlfriend at home, Shawn! I don’t want that for you! I don’t want you to look back years from now and start to resent me because you couldn’t do what you love to do!” I cried. Shawn gathered me in his arms.

“Baby, I will never see you that way. Believe it or not you’re giving me a gift. Yes, it might be a little early, but there’s nothing that I want more than to start a family with you.”  

“You’re not angry?” I asked into his chest. Shawn chuckled.

“No, I’m not angry.” He said.

“What about the hormones?” Shawn laughed.

“I think I can handle them.” He said taking my face in his hands and kissing my forehead.

“And the cravings and mood swings?”

“I think I can handle those too. Just… stay. Please.” Shawn said, placing his forehead on mine.

“Fine.” I whispered. With that, Shawn smiled and placed a kiss on my lips, pulling me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him as close as possible. Suddenly the door behind us opened.

“Sorry to break this up, but you need to get ready, Mendes. Now.” His stylist said, practically dragging him through the doors. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself. That went better than expected. Now here comes the hard part:

Telling everyone else.

Acceptance as a Queer Asian American

Coming out as pansexual to my grandmother was an extremely important, and I believe, pivotal moment in my life as a queer, Asian young adult. I believe this for many reasons, but there are two specific ones that over shadow the rest.

The first of those is what it meant to me as a Japanese-American woman to feel safe enough and confidant enough in who I was to come out to my grandmother. For the majority of my queer journey up to this point, I was dead set on the fact that I could never tell my grandmother my sexual orientation. No matter the circumstance, I was sure that my grandmother would not understand or approve. No matter the circumstance, there was a great chance of my losing my relationship with her, my strongest tie to my Japanese heritage and her presence in my life as a third parent could be gone forever. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice the love between us or isolate myself even more than I already felt from the Japanese community.

As much as my refusal to share my identity with my grandmother was based in my fear of her not loving me anymore, a good portion was also based in how I felt my faux-heterosexuality was essentially tied to my right to my Japanese heritage. I already felt like an imposter for being biracial and I felt that my admission to being attracted to more than just men would give the community more reason to exile me, revoke my membership that I’d come to believe I could only have if my grandmother backed me first. After all, my grandmother was the closest resource I had for my culture and language. Everything that made me feel Japanese I could attribute to her: my round face, olive skin, and almond eyes, my short stature and straight frame, my knowledge of Japanese tradition and lore with her songs and stories, my induction to Japanese pop culture with Studio Ghibli, candies and sweets, cartoons by Sanrio, and watching her Japanese shows on the TV, my love of the Japanese food she’d raised me on, the miso shiru and gyoza that marked my childhood, my interest and grasp of the Japanese language that she’d spoke and sang to me all my life. If she disowned me for this, it would feel like the entire Japanese and Asian community behind her would disown me as well.

When I finally decided to come out as pansexual to my grandma I was twenty. Four years after my official acceptance of the label, I’d gained enough confidence in my intersectionality of identities, enough love and pride for them all, that none of them could be affected by her acceptance or disapproval. My forgiveness and acceptance of my white, Scottish family and heritage had allowed me to discard the shame I felt for being mixed race in the Asian community. My growth and education in my Japanese heritage, history, and language had given me confidence in my identity as a Japanese person that no amount of racial slurs, stereotypes, or discrimination I received from any group of people could shake. My growth and knowledge of my self as a sexually and gender queer person and found footing in the LGBTQ+ community had shed the self hatred and fear of rejection from my mind. As painful as losing my grandmother would be, it would not and could not break me as might have before. I was tired of living behind lies. Being able to do something about that without fear of losing myself in my lost relationship was the most liberating thing I’d felt in my history with my Japanese and queer identities.

The second of the two reasons is absolutely the way my grandmother responded to my coming out. She both met my expectations and surprised me in the best of ways. And by that I mean that her reaction was so explicitly something my grandmother would say and do, but my fear of the worst case scenario had clouded my ability to perceive this outcome over the former.

I saw the opportunity to tell her over a conversation we had started about the recent mass shooting of LGBTQ+ people in Orlando, Florida. The devastation she expressed over the massacre, her clear understanding of the hateful prejudice behind the crime, it allowed me to see her clearer than before.

“I don’t understand why people do that!” I remember her shouting. “Why you got to hurt and kill people just because you disagree? Megan, it does not matter who you love, who I love, it doesn’t matter! Just because you believe doesn’t give you right to take another’s life!”

With her words my perceptions changed. My biases that often allowed me to view her as a stubborn child with an adult’s face and experiences had been pushed aside. Instead of the previously held image I’d had, my view of my grandmother had shifted to that of a women who’d experienced much hardship and shut out many new people and ideas because of it, but was still capable of growth and acceptance of new social norms and ways of thinking. This new image, this new perception of my grandma was a kinder, softer one than I’d met previously. It was one that I was safe with, I could feel it in my stomach and my cheeks.

“You know, it’s kind of scary for people like me, people who like more than just the opposite sex, people like those killed in that club, to be alive right now,” I said. “I’m like them, I like more than just boys, I want to date a girl someday, and it scares me that someone might want to kill me for that.”

My grandmother stared at me for a moment, her bony arms encircling her small legs, a high hum coming from her throat. That hum and the noise of her TV that never got turned off were the only sound in the room for several moments.

“You like girls?” She asked, then gestured to the news on the TV. “Like those people?”

I nodded and she made the same high hum.

“Well you know, Megan,” she said, looking down then back up again. I could feel my heart pounding heavily against my chest. “it does not matter who you love what you believe because you are my granddaughter. You are my first granddaughter and I will love you and take care of you always.”

I felt tears pricking my eyes and my heart slow its pace. I’d cried coming out to each of my parents so far, but this was the first time my tears were from joy.

With my mother I’d cried with frustration and anger at her lack of understanding and patronizing questions. Despite her general acceptance and “I’ll always love you” concluding statements, it’d hurt that she’d had so many concerns and objections. With my father I’d cried with rage, the pain of betrayal, the pain of lost love, and a fear for my livelihood then forward. He’d made me feel like a child running from home who truly had no option of turning back. He’d made me feel like his promises to love and care for me all these years had been out right lies.

But with my grandmother, all I’d felt was an overwhelming happiness from her words. Her straightforward acceptance, her attempt to understand me with out being invasive… I hadn’t been aware of how desperately I’d needed her to respond in this way until she had. With it I felt a tremendous weight lifted off my chest and a surge of love and emotion.

Seeing my watering eyes, my grandmother leaned forward and hugged me. I laughed at how her arms could hardly reach around my shoulders and I scooted closer so to make it easier for her. She patted my back with her bony, knobby, hands and kissed my head.

“I don’t care who you love, Megan. I love you first and that’s what’s important.”

I sniffled and laughed, squeezing her waist in my arms.

“Arigatou gozaimasu, obaachan. Aishite,” I said. “Thank you, grandma. I love you.”

When I was in elementary school, there was an elderly teacher’s aide who was very strict but that I liked a lot because she talked to me about books.

When we were in third grade, and reading a book that touched on the Holocaust (I think it was Number the Stars), our teacher asked her to come and speak with us.

She came in, this strict but kind old woman, and she told us about being a little girl in Nazi Germany being raised by a single father, a professional bookbinder. She and her father, they sheltered Jews on their way out of the country. She told us about watching her father get beaten in front of her, and still the Nazis couldn’t find the Jews in their house. She told us this, and she cried. She told us she didn’t know if any of those people made it all the way out alive. Before the end of the war, her father was dead. And she was very proud of him.

I went home that day and told my parents about it. My dad told me about my grandfather, and his time in WWII. He was hard of hearing, bordering on deaf in later years, which made it very hard to get into the military, let alone advance. But he ended up an expert surveyor, planning out strikes with math because they didn’t have computers yet. He was often in an enemy zone before everyone else.

So my dad went into the closet and pulled out a sword. A German ceremonial sword. The advance squad had run into a town and my grandpa led the fight that ended in their surrender, taking advantage of the element of surprise. And that was the sword they surrendered to him. He, a man who could barely hear them, heard the Nazi surrender.

And as a kid, I held the sword and it was very heavy. These days, it still is. My brother calls me and tells me he has registered on an underground network as a safe house, for muslims, for gay kids. He asks me for resources.

I have seen a lot of posts lately about the bomb threats against temples and the desecration of Jewish buildings. And I want all my Jewish followers to know that if they want to know if the non-Jews in here would hide them, I am one. I’m not Jewish but standing against nazis is in my blood. It should be in everyone’s.

Please know that you are not alone. These neo-nazis have so many targets based on race, nationality, sexuality. But I won’t forget that their anti-semitism is at the root of so much.

Love-Starved (Jumin x MC)

Jumin comes home from a long business trip hopelessly missing you.

Word Count: 980

I decided to change my blog as it really isn’t very wintery anymore. I hope you like it and enjoy this prompt! Thank you and have a terrific day!

————————————————————————————————————–

It had been almost two months since Jumin had been with you.

His business trip had gone on far too long then he’d liked, a new issue arriving every day almost. 

You both called each other every day, your words full of utter love and affection.

However, he desperately wanted to be with you again. 

He missed the nights he’d hold you in his arms before you both fell asleep, the way your hand always seemed to find its way into his own, or the way you’d ruffle his hair and pepper his face in kisses.

He missed you more than anything. 

And yet he couldn’t even see you when he returned home. 

He was to be sent straight back to work, to discuss the paperwork and decisions made. 

He was infuriated upon hearing this. 

But you assured him that you’d still be there when he came home no matter what. 

You always knew the right thing to say.

Yet he still couldn’t deny the gnawing at him at your absence. 

He had felt lonely again.

And it dug into his skin like a knife.

Everyone would merely dip their heads, hesitant to come within a mile of him. 

Their voices were cold, and awkward around him.

He felt as though he was forced to recoil within himself, reapplying the stoic expression he had hoped he would never have to use again. 

He had felt pathetic, and empty. 

And as the plane lowered, the only thing keeping him from feeling the very same way, was you.

He headed down the set of stairs as it was lowered, seeing Jahee standing just beyond it as she examined her phone. 

She lifted her head, nodding. “Hello, Mr. Han. I hope you enjoyed your trip?”

“I wish I did.” He huffed, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. 

“Hm, whatever happened you’ll have to discuss with your father. Was it the location?” 

“It was me.” 

She held her breath as they began to walk. “…Are you alright Mr. Han?” 

They reached the car, Driver Kim giving a polite wave.

“Just can’t wait to get home.” 

And yet home was the last place he’d be going. 

His father was kind and patient as they spoke during lunch. 

He had slid the paperwork, Mr. Han scanned through it, raising pitch black coffee to his lips. “You did well. I especially like the new policy you made in regards to exportations. Very nice.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You must be tired, I’m sure.” He glanced up at his son. “But at the very least I’m sure the day will go by quickly with all you’ve been handling on your trip.” 

“I can only hope.” 

“You miss MC don’t you?” 

“More than words can describe.” Jumin tapped his wedding ring, his eyes constantly shifting towards the clock. 

“I can’t believe you’re still acting like newlyweds even now.” He chuckled. “Just a bit longer don’t worry now.” 

“And how long is a bit longer?” 

“Until eight.” 

It sounded more like a century.

Yet your messages made it a bit lighter. 

“How has your day been?” 

“Without you, it’s not quite right.”

“I was thinking the same thing. But we’ll see each other soon don’t worry!” 

“Right.” 

“Elizabeth 3rd and I are very excited. See you soon!” 

“I can’t wait love.” 

When the clock finally did reveal 8 o’clock, he nearly raced out of the building, anticipation bubbling inside of him rapidly. 

As he came to the penthouse door, he took a deep breath, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. 

He slipped open the door, finding the home to be drenched in darkness. 

As though no one was there. 

Panic.

Panic filled him in seconds, desperately searching for you.

You said you’d be home.

Where were you? 

Why were you gone? 

What if he never saw you again?

He felt a lump grow in his throat, as he couldn’t find you, his hands and body beginning to tremble. 

You probably didn’t even want to see him.

He couldn’t blame you.

But it still hurt, far worse than he could’ve possibly imagined.

He came towards the kitchen, utter fear painting his expression as he tore at his hair. 

Then the lights flashed on. 

You erupted from behind the row of counters with the rest of the RFA, a cake in your hands. 

“Welcome home!” You all cried, flailing and clapping as he stared in shock.

You hadn’t gone. 

You stayed.

You waited for him.

Relief washed over him, his shoulders dropping as he gave a shaky sigh, coughs shortly following. 

“We missed you!” You exclaimed, setting the cake on the counter as you made your way towards him. “We wanted to do something a little special!” 

You looked ecstatic to see him. 

You raised a hand to his cheek, furrowing your brow. “Is…is everything okay?” 

He melted at your touch.

“I…I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too.” 

He tipped his forehead against your own, delighted at the familiar warmth spreading through his body. “Can I just…hold you?” 

You were shocked for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure of course!” 

“You alright ‘Mr. Trust Fund’?” Zen cocked his head to the side in confusion, frowning.

Jumin wound his arms around your waist, pulling you close. 

You pressed a tender kiss to his nose, grinning gently as adoration drenched his gaze. 

“I’m feeling much better now.” He lowered his voice, whispering towards you. 

“Thanks to you, darling.” 

Mafumafu Tweets ー 02.17.17

Mafumafu: “That moment when someone said to me, “I heard that apparently turtles’ genders are determined when they hatch out of their eggs, so they become male if the surrounding temperature is less than 28℃ and female if the surrounding temperature is above 30℃. If you head over to a warm beach, there might just be a lot of female turtles there. I just caught onto something great, didn’t I?”, and I realized that at some point in time people had started to consider turtles as part of my love interest. The pain is overflowing.”

Mafumafu: “I’m at home almost all the time because of my projects, I’m working to my death at my job, I don’t really have any friends so I don’t go out to play much, there’s no way I’d cheat with someone based off of my personality, I wait around like a dog, and on top of that I think I’m the type that makes gloomy little cries of “woof, woof” while getting emotionally attached to someone, but when I think about how I’ll spend my life and die alone as a video uploader who never became popular and never received any chocolate, I want to cry”

Mafumafu: “However, though it’s only because it’s now that I can say this, I’ve (always) thought that surely a life of immersing yourself into music and your hobbies must be blissful. I’ve devoted a ton of time into my music activities, but I am so content with how each single day has both its fun and painful moments that I think I’d choose this life again if I had a chance to be reborn. Therefore, I thought I might even say that I will give up on romance wait what screw that I want to be blessed I want to be bles”

aporeticelenchus  asked:

Alternately, headcanon about Cosette in the convent?

I come here, a week later, looking at the work I have to do and… not doing it. 

  • Cosette, I think, is a bit frightened at first by all the girls in the convent. Not that any of them are particularly mean, or anything, but they’re good and cheerful and well-dressed, and Cosette is a bit too shy, or a bit too wild, perhaps, to go play with them - waiting for a trick, or a mocking laugh, or someone to tell her she doesn’t get to play with other well-dressed little girls. After all, eight year old Cosette would still remember Éponine and Azelma, and everybody judging her (or downright beating her) for trying to play like them. She does get comfortable, eventually! And faster than expected. But I still think she ends up feeling more comfortable with younger girls than her. 
  • As it is, Cosette IS the wild girl of the convent; she has a reputation. For starters, she spends most of her free time with the two old gardeners. Like, sure, she says they’re her family, but still! She’s the one who runs towards the sound of the bell instead of away from it when it can be heard! Also, once, there was a snake, and rumors says Miss Cosette Fauchevelent stayed and played with the snake. Another time, several pupils affirm she climbed in a tree to retrieve the ball younger girls were playing with. She’s also oddly strong; she can carry very heavy weight and help the sisters with the food that comes outside of the convent. 
  • Once, a girl decided she did not like Cosette; but when she tried to provoke her, Cosette visibly shrink, and paled, and went all quiet. Other girls from her dormitory, who sometimes woke during the night and heard Cosette having nightmares, all band together to defend Cosette. Cosette cries a little and thank all of them - she doesn’t know why she was so scared, she’ll say later, but she feels so happy she had friends to help. Later on, she sees the girl who provoked her, all alone because the other girls shut her down; she takes a deep breath, and then she goes to sit with her, and offer her an apple. They never become friends, but they do get along okay after that. 
  • Fauchelvent and her had a real uncle/niece relationship that develops over the course of the years. While Valjean is a very strong moral parent, that tries to teach her to be as good as possible (which, coincidentally, goes extremely well with the sisters’s education), Fauchelevent is the one who gently reprimands her when he finds her with the snake and then help her ‘finding it a good home we won’t tell your father will we now’, or winks at her and gives her a candy from times to times, etc. Cosette cries a lot when he dies. 
  • I think Cosette never think of becoming a nun. She might think she’ll stay in the convent for all her life - but not in a ‘i’ll be a nun’ way, more like ‘i’ll be with my dad and my uncle and my friends forever and ever here’. However, after Fauchelevent’s death, she is sort of glad, and maybe a bit excited, at the idea of going outside again, discovering the world. 
  • She still exchanges letter with the girls from the convent. AT LEAST some of them. They’re here for her wedding, as a surprise from her dad. They’re all charmed by Marius, who blushes a lot and smiles awkwardly and holds Cosette very close to him the whole time. 
Her Eyes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: PTSD, alcoholism, death of a child, language <— see I do post warnings. 

A/N: Kate Bishop y’all - enough said. 

Summary: A mission left you clinging to alcohol as a coping mechanism and the team wants you to get help. 

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