fire and lunch

Rivalry to Romance AUs
  • We hate each other but we both have a mutual friend so we have to put up with each other AU
  • This is a mandatory partner project and since everybody else is taken I have to have you as my partner AU
  • You’re my jerk barista who purposely screws up my name when I order my caffeine fix AU
  • The Proposal AU
  • You used to bully/mess with me in elementary school and it turned out it was because you had a major crush on me AU
  • I’m trying to recruit members for my club but you keep stealing away all my potential recruits AU
  • You spoil all the things I’m into and it’s really pissing me off AU
  • So I have to spend the night at my longtime rival’s house, everything will totally be fine because their parents are there (or not) AU
  • If you aren’t serious about this play then leave AU
  • I know you don’t like me but I really need help passing this class AU
  • Don’t tell anyone you saw me crying AU
  • I don’t want to go to this party/dance alone so please be my date AU
  • Just got caught under the mistletoe with my arch-nemesis and now everything is slow changing between us AU
  • You come to the restaurant I work at and choose me as your waiter(ess) every time just to annoy me and I can’t do anything in retribution or I’ll get fired AU
  • I spilled my lunch on this person one time and now they hate me AU
  • A Walk to Remember AU
  • You’re the Gantu to my Stitch AU

“A couple weeks, maybe.”

At my going away happy hour thing someone asked how long I was planning to take off before looking for a new job. “That’s it? Take a month, at least.”

Today marks 3 months.

My former manager offered to review my resume when I finally got tired of hiatus-ing. I sent it to them last week.

So now I’ve got a resume I can send out or whatever one does with those things these days. Put it on LinkedIn, I guess. I’ll worry about that when I get back from Sweden.

Every YouTube video I’ve watched on ‘traveling to Sweden’ or ‘how to speak Swedish’ or 'what have I gotten myself into with this whole Sweden thing’ has included a line about how almost everyone in Sweden speaks English so just go with that, no really, it’s fine. So there’s that.

Extended versions of the above have been on my mind a lot lately. I thought I’d worked through it all and settled on a plan, but apparently there’s something I’m missing.

I was hoping this concert would distract me for a while, but since I wrote most of this out between the penultimate and ultimate bands, I guess that didn’t work out.

The talking smoke detector with an overactive imagination also didn’t work out. It may have been murderized after thinking there was a fire between 2 and 5 am for the fourth time in a month.

we get it, you’re gay.
my sexuality is not a shirt that I take off at the end of each day, it is not dirty. I do not dress myself in lesbianism just for the fashion perks; homophobia is not in style. i am not a living light switch, I do not turn myself off to solve all your problems, my light will not go out because it’s too bright for you.
we get it, you’re gay.
if I stop talking about it, it will not go away. I would say I am sorry to disappoint but I am not sorry, I am gay, I am very gay and I am not sorry for who I am, I am only sorry that you have a problem with self-liberation and confidence.
we get it, you’re gay.
I can tell when someone is uncomfortable and my sexuality is making you uncomfortable, you are upset that I am comfortable in my own skin, you are upset that I am comfortable with the fact that I love girls and you are uncomfortable about the fact that I won’t shut up. you can’t silence my sexuality, actions speak louder than words.
we get it, you’re gay.
you don’t mind that I’m gay you just don’t want me to be too gay, because being too gay is distracting. you want me to be quiet gay, nice gay, understanding gay, your-gay-friend gay, let-you-get-away-with-everything gay. I can like girls but I’m supposed to whisper that kind of thing, not shout it. the neighbors aren’t supposed to hear.
we get it, you’re gay.
you say you understand, but you’d rather just push it under the rug. it’s okay if I’m gay, but I shouldn’t rub it in your face. you don’t mind, you say, but you can’t help but notice how many people are gay these days and you assume it must be some kind of practical joke. I am not a joke, my life is not some riddle, do you see me laughing? this is not funny.
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, I’m just rebellious, I’ve been told. a rebellious teen confused by the media, so tell me, where is my army? where are my hundreds of thousands of lgbt soldiers, ready to fight this war on love? we stand united but we are not armed, because if we bring the weapons we have guaranteed ourselves a two-minute five o'clock news slot, tragic tragedy, one-more-gay-gone, let’s save the world, let’s save the gays.
we get it, you’re gay.
“lesbians have ruined flannels for me” because the community was supposed to ask for a style after you denied us basic human rights? I’m sorry gay girls have ruined plaid for you, but it never looked too great on you anyway. maybe you should stick to solid colors; if you put too many shades on one shirt, it might look like a rainbow and someone might accidentally think you’re gay. can’t have that.
we get it, you’re gay.
don’t annoy the straights! eyes wide open, avoiding ticking bombs of discrimination, it happens all the time but there’s no way to prepare yourself for hate speech coming from the mouth of your mother or your teacher or your best friend. I bite my tongue to keep from coming out but you’re just so sure that you can trust me, I’ll get it, no offense, no hard feelings, I will understand.
we get it, you’re gay.
I am not going to hit on you, just because I like girls does not mean that I like you, I love myself and I love being gay. do not make my sexuality about you, my life does not revolve around you. I’ve undressed in front of you my entire life but now you insist on changing in the next room. you don’t say it, but I know. I’m not a friend, I’m a predator.
we get it, you’re gay.
you can ramble all day about how that kid in your physics class is just to die for, but the second I mention that a girl in my history class is cute then all eyes are burning holes into my skin. you don’t have to bring your gay with you everywhere, leave it at home most days, it’s too embarrassing to share.
we get it, you’re gay.
I don’t look gay enough, I’ve heard. do I need to carry a sign with me everywhere to broadcast that I Am Not Straight, I am g-a-y gay, rainbows all over my body and in my back pocket, just so you can see?
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, but you tell me that I am not gay I am not gay because I am a girl that likes girls, I can only use the word lesbian. I didn’t know that I erased my name tag and handed it to you, I didn’t know that you were in charge of what I called myself, I didn’t know you were allowed to police my labels; I never asked for your opinions but that never stopped you anyway, do you understand?
we get it, you’re gay.
so, by gay, do you mean really gay or just a little gay? lipstick lesbian, three-way fantasy, am I right? what stereotype would you like to claim, or would you prefer that I choose?
we get it, you’re gay.
truth or dare has always been a death sentence for me, and anyone that says that party games aren’t lethal doesn’t know pure poison, I grew up drinking venom from vodka bottles because alcohol was nothing to a child on the run. so explain to me why I would stop now.
we get it, you’re gay.
in every wedding aisle there’s a “mr.” and a “mrs.” who’s the man in the relationship, they’ll ask us, nothing about us is traditional but they’ll insist we wear white anyway. marriage equality, what else are you fighting for?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re the cool straight friend. you’re the best straight friend any gay person could ever have, asking for fashion advice and introducing me as your “gay friend.” you say that you have a pretty great gaydar, and you knew all along. do you also know that I want you to shut the fuck up?
I get it, you’re straight.
capital s “Straight,” straight as a telephone pole, straighter than a ruler. so straight and everyone knows without you saying a word because you people are everywhere. you’re on cereal boxes and billboards and in every television show. you’re the main character but we’re just there for a little drama, an episode or two, and then we’re gone.
I get it, you’re straight.
you have never had to come out of the closet because you were never in one to begin with, you own the entire house and didn’t even give us enough room to be. has anyone ever told you how dark and crowded a closet is? it is so hard to breathe with so little space to exist, I’m surprised my thoughts didn’t suffocate me over the years, would you have even noticed?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re a girl and you like boys, only boys. I mean, everyone experiments in college, right? everyone loves that song, I kissed a girl, because everyone loves just to give being gay a try without the weight of what it really means. it’s not cheating if it’s with a girl, right? right?
I get it, you’re straight.
no homo, bro! holding hands, sharing drinks, making eye contact, it’s not gay, no homo. just two pals being gals, no homo, don’t worry, we’re straight!
I get it, you’re straight.
you have learned how to hate since the moment you were born. no worries, I have been too, but I unlearned heteronormativity so I could fall in love with myself. you preach it every sunday in church and every weekday at work, you learn that serving me is optional, that you can turn me away because you don’t like who I love.
I get it, you’re straight.
lets talk about me as a topic of class discussion, I am the focus of today’s debate, go. argue your stance. do you think this girl at table three should have the right to get married, the right to adopt, the right to buy milk, the right to exist? do you think this girl at table three is just trying to fit in? do you think the girl at table three should be allowed to go to prom? tell me, let’s talk about the girl at table three, no harm done.
I get it, you’re straight.
you are in every book I’ve ever read. the love stories are always about you, how can you expect me to grow up and not feel flawed? these novels teach me to hate who I am, it’s a miracle in and of itself that I’m still here.
I get it, you’re straight.
“there’s a war on straight people,” excuse me? we are just beginning to come out of the shadows because the earth is only now a little less haunted and you have the audacity to say that you are the ones under attack?
I get it, you’re straight.
every step we take is monitored and broadcast for the world to see. you are just a person allowed to make your own decisions but everything I do respresents my entire community and there is no space for me to make mistakes. I am not perfect but I am trying.
I get it, you’re straight.
you say that me being gay is not a big deal to you, it could be anyone, no big deal, not at all. but it’s a big deal to me, this wasn’t an easy thing to say. why should I silence myself, am I overreacting?
I get it, you’re straight.
there’s no rule book for being an ally and sometimes the borders become a little blurred, it’s easy to cross a line. I will help guide you but I will not hold your hand. I cannot always be there to watch the words that trickle out of your mouth, you have to remember that I am a secret.
I get it, you’re straight.
please stop talking about me like I am the latest news story, I am not a headline in big bold font, sometimes I just need a moment to breathe. I have these words printed into my skin just like a newspaper and I’ve never been more black and white.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be gay? oh, you know what I mean, so when did you know? which girl turned you gay? why did you lie to us, how many times have you done it with a girl, what about with a guy? how can you be gay if you’ve never done anything? can you ever really know? what if it’s all a phase?
I get it, you’re straight.
the words we identify ourselves by are your insults. they lock us up for holding hands, they criminalize and sexualize our daily activities because they don’t want us corrupting the children. I’ve spent my entire life in an invisible prison with see-through shackles, this is on my permanent record.
I get it, you’re straight.
have you ever considered that my backpack is heavy because I have to carry the weight of your judgment to and from school every day, I have to carry a fire extinguisher in my lunch box because these toxic words are flammable. I might break my back but at least you don’t know.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be “normal”? to never have to deal with the undercover I’m-sorry-for-you stares from the kids in the hallway, the I’ll-pray-for you promises spoken by nice ladies in their sunday best?
we get it, you’re gay.
when I’m telling my love story I do not want to lie. I will not censor the pronouns to protect the innocent because my happiness is not guilt-ridden. I am leaving this book open.
—  we get it.

anonymous asked:

How do you think Gladio would be with a deaf s/o?

Please note that I don’t personally know anyone who is deaf so I’m coming up with these on a whim. If there’s anything offensive and/or unlikely an/or incorrect please let me know.

  • Your first meeting with Gladio will be a bit tense, because he won’t realise you’re deaf and instead presumes you’re ignoring him.  He’s looking for information from you, he’s needs this information fast, so he’ll grab hold of your arm and yank you around to face him.  If you’re quick enough to break his nose, it’s his own damn fault for laying a hand on you.
  • He won’t realise on his own that you’re deaf.  So either someone who knows you will have to tell him, or Ignis will (if he spots the way you focus rather intently on Gladio’s mouth to try and lipread what he’s saying), or you’ll have to bust out the emergency notepad and pen and literally spell it out for him (and maybe smack him on the forehead with that notepad for good measure).
  • He’ll be seven levels of embarrassed and apologising profusely because, while his temper is a bit on the short side, he’s not a total jerk.  He even buys you coffee/tea as a peace offering.
  • He doesn’t know sign language to start with, so he’s a bit stumped as to how to communicate with you.  Use that notepad again to let him know that so long as he speaks slowly and clearly you’ll be able to lipread what he’s saying, with a few hiccups here and there.
  • You will, at some point, start laughing, because he keeps forgetting and you’ll need to stop him every couple of minutes and wave that note around again.  The sheepish expression is actually kinda cute on him.
  • Fast forward a couple of weeks when your information has panned out (maybe you’re the one in the know about the local creatures that have been picking off the hunters, or you know that one person he needs to talk to doesn’t like being seen around this area so try in that café instead) and he’ll be back again.  With his own note at the ready, on a big sheet of A2 paper.
  • I’m sorry for being a jerk last time
  • But don’t think for one minute that he’s going to let your lack of hearing get in the way of getting to know you better.  If it means you can only text each other back and forth for a while, then that’s fine.  He’ll just drop a ton of emoticons in his so you know what tone he’s meaning to convey, and make it his mission to have you laughing at least once.
  • He’s gonna ask you out eventually, but it’ll take a while.  So long, in fact, that you’ll be left wondering if maybe you’ve picked him up wrong (it’s not often that folks try to actively flirt with you, so it wouldn’t be unusual for you to have misread signs or body language).
  • If you cry when he signs if you’d join him for dinner before the fireworks show, don’t worry.  He’s got tissues (and a small notepad and pen of his own, but he’s not letting you know about those because he’s a manly man damn it, he doesn’t plan this shit, he’s not a sap who wants to talk with you at all).
  • Just be warned that he doesn’t pick up sign language quickly, and he’s gonna make quite a few mistakes (some will probably be humorous as fuck and he’s gonna be so clueless as to why you can’t breathe from laughing so hard), but he tries and he’ll master it if it’s the last thing he does.
  • He’ll have taught Ignis, Noct, and Prompt how to sign hello to you and how to introduce themselves.
  • Doesn’t matter how long you two end up together, this man is still going to have moments when he forgets to fully face you when he’s talking.  You’re in the middle of a conversation while he’s doing something else, and be prepared for him to randomly look away and cut off what he was saying.  He goes red every time you tap him on the shoulder with that look on your face that says “Gladio, I love you, but for fuck’s sake man”.
  • He really doesn’t care that you’re deaf.  He loves you.  He will make sure you know he loves you every damn day (the first text you get from him whenever he’s away is just a love heart, he’s such a sap).
  • You are getting a guard dog.  No ifs.  No buts.  No maybes.  You’re raising it from being a puppy and you’re teaching it to respond to your hand commands and the signals of snapping your fingers in a rhythm.  Knowing the scruff ball will alert you to danger really soothes his worry.
  • All the surprise hugs and kisses.

Stiles wasn’t stupid. He had ADHD which led to trouble focusing and he might not be the most popular person, but he was far from stupid.

He scarfed down his lunch quickly, ignoring the other teens milling around him as he read on his phone. He’d finish his food quickly so he could leave and go to the library, as usual.

He glanced a few tables down to nonchalantly study the new popular table. Scott McCall was the newest edition, brought up the social ladder by his Disney princess of a girlfriend, Allison Argent. Once upon a time, Scott and he had been inseparable, but then middle school had happened and they’d drifted apart. Stiles missed having a partner in crime—or someone to eat lunch with, hang out with, text, have inside jokes with, or just to call a friend—but he was living. Sure, he got lonely sometimes, but this too shall pass and all of that.

He stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and quickly cleared his table, heading for the trashcan. He meant Boyd’s eyes and gave him a nod, from one loner to another. The other boy rolled his eyes but nodding back all the same. Stiles smirked, social connection for the day completed, and slipped out the cafeteria to spend the rest of his time researching.

See, since he wasn’t stupid, he knew something was going on. There had been a sudden increase in animal attacks lately and the most recent one had been at a video store in the middle of town. Not exactly your typical mountain lion hunting ground. Plus, he’d hacked into the CCTV feed from the parking lot and whatever had been the cause of the video store’s manager’s untimely demise was definitely not a mountain lion.

Stiles frowned, tapping his pen on his notepad in thought. The school’s goddess Lydia and resident douche-bag Jackson had been there, so the rumor mill said, but both were refusing to talk. This was the third death in the past month though and, for Beacon Hills, that was a lot. Like, an insane amount. His dad was barely even home anymore thanks to the whole department being mobilized to try and catch a damn mountain lion. It just didn’t add up though.

The first death had been Laura Hale, torn clean in half on the Preserve. Her brother, Derek, had been brought in for questioning but he’d been cleared and released.

Next was a bus driver, attacked on his bus and then died later in the hospital from his wounds. Messy all around. Again, not the normal hunting grounds of a mountain lion.

And now the video store manager. It all just didn’t connect.

“We’ve got to do something; the Alpha’s getting braver.”

Stiles stiffened, ears perking as he listened to the students milling past his spot around the corner. Here he could hear conversations in front of the stairwell easily without being seen.

Alpha?

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