This is a story of how assholes in the workplace can fuck with ADA compliance
Let me make this pretty fucking clear, first as a prologue to this story A disability isn’t just the actual thing wrong with you. It’s the anxiety that goes along with being stuck, the fear of having an episode, the constant stress of avoiding an episode, the difficulties of adapting to the environment. It’s also pain management, moderating how much you do in a shift, and so on. It is also the emotional trauma that comes with the physical disability.
Let me tell you about myself. I have very limited vision. I fake being sighted very well because I knew what it was like to have sight. But I’ve been mostly blind now for almost 22 years. It gets worse every year as I age. I have constant difficulty adapting. So if my phone (which I use as a visual aid) starts to die, it upsets me. If I get disoriented, it can trigger anxiety attacks. If the light is too bright, or I don’t have my sunglasses, or I simply have a bad day, it triggers a migraine. Those migraines are physically debilitating. My immune system has a hair trigger. Stress triggers all sorts of horrible attacks from skin to lung. And then there’s the emotional frustration and suffering that goes with this.
But never mind that shit. It’s shit you can’t see, right, so it must not be real. I deal with it, because I know how insensitive able-bodied people can be. I put up with it and I manage it, but sometimes I can’t anymore, and I just need a fucking break. But when that happens, because I seldom mention it, people treat me as if I’m hysterical. I’m not. I just need my fifteen minutes of silence where someone isn’t telling me how to live. So yeah, I don’t often talk about my disability unless it comes up and has something to do with physically being able to do my job. I’ve never had a job I couldn’t do, if some minor changes were made, and I always had great employers who helped make those changes. However…it’s not just the place and the way things are done that need alteration. Sometimes it’s the people too.
And now we are to the story.
I used to have this job that involved me being out on a floor, chatting to people. Anyway, I got into a conversation with one of my coworkers while we were just sitting there, and I mentioned that I have bad vision.
She was stunned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m legally blind. It’s a long story.”
And it’s one I like to avoid telling in this kind of environment, but the trouble is, once you’ve said that you have a disability, able people want to fucking push. They want to test you, or they’re curious, and they feel they have the right to know, and so by god you better tell them, or you’re obviously a liar. And yeah, you can say to yourself that that isn’t what you’re doing, but it is a story you’re telling yourself to feel better. To the person receiving that kind of treatment, it’s insensitive, intrusive, and can actually trigger symptoms.
It’s like if you discuss your condition you give up the right to have boundaries. I now know how to say to people, “you don’t have the right to know that about me, and right now you’re triggering my anxiety by reminding me of all the fucking doctors visits I had to sit through where they injected me with dye that caused anaphylaxis and stabbed needles into my eye,” but at the time of this story, I didn’t know what to say, besides answering the question.
So I gave a very shortened version of why I am legally blind. She kept questioning me. Can I drive, can I read, can I this, can I that? But what about all the times I’ve seen you do this, or that, or whatever? Did you try eating kale, did you try this, did you try that? I finally said, “I went to some of the best specialists on earth for over six years. I’m just a freak of nature, and you’re actually making me really uncomfortable right now.”
This was because her questions had become hostile, judgemental, and disrespectful. She assumed that because my condition is idiopathic (unknown cause), it must not be real. She assumed that because she’d seen me look at things, I must be able to see them. She acted on that idea by being aggressive, acting as if she knows more about the human eye than I do. You want to know about how much I know about the human eye?
When I was in high school, I was in AP anatomy (I had to have a dedicated lab partner to dissect things for me, because you don’t want a blind person holding a scalpel, but that was fine). When the segment on the eye came along…my teacher asked me to teach the class..cold. No preparation. He did this because I had been getting picked on for my condition, and he wanted to show that my condition made me stronger. I walked up to the transparency machine, and I taught the fucking class. Not just an in-depth explanation of the anatomy of the eye, but the way it works, how the brain processes it, the various dysfunctions it can have, and then people began asking how my vision worked, and for the first time, I got to explain to my class (the same people who knew me BEFORE I lost my vision) how I see.
By the end of that hour, kids understood, and they never made fun of me again.
That’s how much I have known about the eye since I was 15 years old. And here’s this fucking woman, insinuating that I am making more out of it than it is, telling me I probably have too alkaline a diet, or this that and the other.
I finally said to her, “This is really bothering me, can we change the subject?”
She says “Did you go to a priest?”
“Well, doctors don’t know anything. Did you go to a priest and pray?”
“I’m an atheist, and I don’t think any of this is your business.”
“Well, that’s your problem. You didn’t pray enough. That’s why you’re sick and why your eyes don’t work.”
You didn’t pray enough.
I looked her right in the place where her eye would be if I could see her fucking face and said, “At the time this happened, I was 14. My step father was a minister and I went to church every Sunday. I’m an atheist because my illness brought up a lot of issues and never offered anything but fear. Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that I was sick because I didn’t pray?”
And you know what she said to me? “You obviously were a sinner then and never repented.” And then…
She starts singing a fucking hymn at me.
I got up, shaking with rage, I walked over to my boss and explained that I was leaving. She asked why, was going to argue with me that my shift wasn’t up, except that she saw me and understood that if I didn’t leave, i was going to hurt someone. I told her that I had just been treated so badly, it was actually causing me to have hives (which it was), and that I knew I was going to have a migraine very soon. I didn’t wait for her to answer. I just left. I walked down the street to a store and called my best friend Angela. Angela is the daughter of an ex-priest (who came out and married a man) and a nun (who also has a chronic illness) and when Angela was born, she had a rare heart defect that resulted in a massive stroke at the age of 1. She has had FIVE open heart surgeries to rebuild and repair her heart. She is chronically ill in ways I cannot imagine. She is also intelligent, caring, manages a support network and charity for people with heart conditions, helps raise my niece, and oh yeah…is religious, but the kind of religious I like because she really lives by the words.
When I told her what this woman did to me, she was absolutely speechless. The fact that anyone would say a child deserved to be given a horrible illness and suffer, because they were a sinner and needed to beg for forgiveness is fucking gross. If that’s how her god operates, fuck him. If that’s how grace functions, then fucking count me out.
I spent two hours sitting on a park bench, shaking from head to toe, in pain, my skin reacting to the stress with welts and hives. Within about thirty minutes, I got my migraine warnings. These happen to me whenever I am under serious stress, because my blood pressure increases, and when this happens, it puts pressure into my eye. This causes a chain reaction. I finally made it home, and quit that job two weeks later, because every time I had to work with that woman, it gave me the most horrible anxiety.
I kept expecting her to try and bless me, or demand I go to her priest, or try and tell me that I should stop taking my medications, or mock me, or call me a sinner. Tell me I was going to hell…because obviously sickness is a sign of sin. And she low key did, and that was enough, but the anticipation of having to see her every day…that’s what killed me.
SO GET THIS THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEADS ABLE-BODIED PEOPLE
A disability isn’t just the physical problem. It’s the PTSD of dealing with operations, doctors, interrogations, tests, surgeries, and on and on. It’s pain management and exhaustion. It’s depression and frustration. It’s anxiety triggered by people being insensitive pricks (and in my case, the triggering of my immune system when under stress). It’s the constant strain of trying to adapt and perform as well as others. It’s the constant worry that someone will behave toward you in a way that is condescending, and that you will have to fight, once again, to be treated fairly.
THAT’S A FUCKING DISABILITY.
Imagine what you might feel if I took your arm away. Imafine what you’d feel if a person made fun of you, told you to get over it, told you that you didn’t pray enough. Now imagine it’s a disability they can’t see. How do they act? Like you’re a fucking liar who makes shit up to get attention. And they treat you like that too. I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve heard from people who have told me that when their co-workers found out they had a disability, people were told to get out, to quit, were harassed, had equipment sabotaged…
So when you make your workplace ADA compliant, think about the people you have on your team and handle that shit too. Get rid of employees or contractors who are going to destroy the productivity of a disabled worker, because I can fucking promise you something: if you don’t, it will cost you. I was damn good at that job. When I left, my boss begged me not to. She even offered to fire the other girl, but by then I was already so over the job and the people and the place, that it was way more trouble than I could handle. I was better at my job than she was, and because of her bullshit, my boss lost a good employee, and then eventually fired the other one too. Disabled people have more fucking work ethic than you can imagine. Can you even comprehend what it takes me to live on a daily basis? It’s WORK. And If I can work through life AND work through your shitty job, you’re going to really be pissed if I leave.
Disabled people can contribute, but they need those around them to grasp what they’re dealing with. It’s not about pity. It’s not about going easy on us. We can handle difficulty, because we do every day. It’s about being mindful and decent. It’s about having fucking common sense.
So maybe I should add to my list of ways to deal with partially sighted or blind people DON’T FUCKING SING HYMNS OVER THEM OR SUGGEST GOD PUNISHED THEM FOR NOT PUTTING THEIR BIKE AWAY BY STRIKING THEM DOWN WITH BLINDNESS.
Hey guys! I have so many imagines coming your guys way you just don’t understand. Also, i’m finally writing an imagine on my computer so this will come out in way better quality AND I can write faster yay! I hope you guys enjoy this one it was requested by @chloesalva! Happy reading.
Pairing: Zach x Reader
Request: Can you do one where Zach cheats on the reader and the reader finds out about the tapes? Thanks :)
Warnings: Cheating and swearing, if you’re looking for something with a happy ending this is NOT it.
A/N : YALL FOREAL NEED TO LISTEN TO ECHOES OF SILENCE BY THE WEEKEND WHILE LISTENING TO THIS SONG OMG I JUST NCDSONVFJS
“Hey Jess have you seen Zach?” I questioned. Zach convinced me to come to this dumb party. I’m not a party person at all, if anything i’m the exact opposite. Something about warm bodies all around me and red solo cups everywhere just aggravates me. Unfortunately, Zach’s convincing game is strong. So here I am, surrounded by drunk teens and searching for Zach. But that didn’t stop me from having a couple drinks.
“I haven’t seen him since when you guys walked in…want some?” Jessica slurred offering me a swig from her lipstick stained cup. I took four big gulps and returned the cup before I walked away.
I needed some place away from all the sweaty figures, so I made my way to the bathroom for a breather. I opened the door to and saw two people. A girl on the sink and a guy standing between her legs, showering her neck in lustful kisses.I was about to close the door but the boy looked familiar to me.
“Z..Zach?” I slurred, the liquor from before finally kicking in. He pulled away from the girls neck and snapped his head in my direction. His eyes were full of regret and sorrow.
I pushed past all the sweaty bodies in the house and made my way outside. My eyes were starting to form tears as I made my way down the sidewalk to my house which wasn’t too far from Jess’s place. It didn’t really help that Zach was my ride and I was anything but sober.
I heard quick heavy footsteps trailing behind me and I started to walk faster. I knew exactly who was following me. The boy that made all my troubles go away. The boy that made me forget all my problems. The boy I gave my heart to, and he destroyed it in return.
“Y/N please stop I can explain!” He grabbed at my wrist.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I yanked away from his grip. He was shocked. He had never seen me angry like this and he didn’t know what to do.
“How could you..?” I questioned with a look of disgust on my face. He was about to talk but I cut him off.
“I’m an idiot for thinking that somebody like you could be in love with a girl like me.” Nothing I was saying was making sense, but that didn’t stop me from coming clean about everything. I told him about how I thought I was never good enough for him and how I would never be. I told him I never loved even though it was a lie. Soon my voice got louder to the point where people were pulled me away from him.
Sherri pulled me into her car and she took me home. The whole car ride was filled with awkward silence and a sniffle from me every now and then.
We finally got to my house and I put my hand on the car door handle but Sherri placed her hand on top mine.
“Y/N hold on just one second okay, sweetheart.” She spoke softly as she reached into the backseat and grabbed a shoe box.
She handed me the shoe box and rubbed the back of my hand with her thumb.
“Don’t open it now, open it when you get inside and don’t ask questions. Just listen.”
I nodded and thanked her then went inside my house.
I flipped the lid of the shoe box and looked at the cassette tapes inside. “Why would Sherri give me this?” I thought to myself.
I grabbed my moms old tape player and put in the first tape.
“Hey it’s Hannah. Hannah Baker.”
Zach texted me about a million times this whole weekend. I didn’t bother to open any of the messages. Between him and the tapes I didn’t know how to feel anymore. My perspective changed on everybody and I even questioned myself. How could I be one of the reasons why Hannah killed herself? How could Zach be one of the reasons she killed herself?
I went to my locker to get my English book when I felt a large figure next to me.
“I don’t think you understand how sorry I am about everything, you’re the one person that made me feel better in life after everything that’s happened, and it kills me inside knowing that I messed up what we had. It kills me knowing that you don’t love me anymore.” Zach stated. I looked up at him and he looked horrible. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was all messy and untamed. His lips were dry and his face was pale. He really let go of himself.
“When I said I never loved you.. I lied. And ever since Saturday I’ve constantly told myself to forget about you just like you forgot about me that night. And then I heard your tape. And I really realized how pathetic you are. And I keep trying to convince myself to remove you from my life. But no matter what I do, I can’t stop myself from loving you. And that’s the part that kills me.” I shut my locker and walked away, leaving Zach standing there defeated and sobbing.
A/N: I’m not even gonna lie I cried while writing this. I really liked writing this. It was a challenge for me because i’m not used to writing things without a happy ending. But anyways I hope you guys enjoyed this! My requests are currently closed i’m really sorry but I have a lot of imagines to write and I don’t want to keep people waiting. I have a couple more imagines coming out this weekend so I hope this makes up for the little dry period I had. I love you guys! Thanks so much for reading. :) ps. (the gif isn’t mine)
Dean hadn’t even noticed he was doing it at first. He just did it blindly and it never seemed to bother Castiel so he kept doing it. Fixing things. His lapel, his tie, his hair.
It’s the sort of simple, easy things he’s good at, the kind of things that show people he cares without him actually having to say it, the kind of things that take the bite out of his words when he says something stupid.
That’s what he’d thought anyway.
Now, he’s not so sure.
It was his fault, you see.
He told Cas to never change but he was the one who exploded time after time, taking it all out on the angel, picking him apart when he was angry, reaching for all the stupid things that he actually loved about Cas to use them as ammunition.
It started with the tie.
Dean always fixed Cas’ tie. It was their thing. Cas didn’t even frown anymore, he just kept talking about whatever new problem had come up in their lives. So, when Castiel hadn’t given any news for a whole week, even after Dean’s insistent calling, and then showed up like nothing was wrong, it began.
Dean scoffed when Castiel said he was there to help, his face blank but his insides burning with acidic bitterness and wrathful anger. Out of spite, and because hurting back when he was hurt was the only way he knew how to deal with these things, he’d snapped:
“What the fuck do you think you can help with if you can’t even tie your freaking tie?!”
After that, Dean never had to fix Cas’ tie again. Cas always showed up with it lined up and turned with the right side out. He pretended it didn’t matter, pretended he wasn’t being slowly eaten away by remorse, pretended on and on until he actually made himself believe it wasn’t that important anyway.
Then, came the trenchcoat.
Dean had been furious, absolutely furious. Cas had jumped in front of him during a hunt and got a knife to the chest. And sure, he hadn’t died and he was okay, but Dean was still shaking and mad beyond belief, so he’d spit it out:
“I don’t need some jerk that doesn’t even know his coat size jumping in front of me, thanks but no thanks.”
Cas had looked so broken and helplessly lost right then that Dean almost backed down, almost hugged him and apologized and pleaded that the angel didn’t do that sort of thing because he couldn’t take Cas getting hurt because of him again. But that was too much, too soon, and Dean was still trembling with the thought of losing Cas, so he turned his back and walked away.
The next time he saw him, Cas was wearing a trenchcoat that was far too small for his size, looking awkward and uncomfortable without the beautiful beige flowing behind him majestically. Dean swallowed hard and looked away.
He promised he wouldn’t say stupid things like that again because obviously Cas wasn’t getting that he didn’t really mean any of them, that he was just mad and horrible at dealing with all these emotions. So the hair thing came out of nowhere.
He had noticed that Castiel’s hair looked more tamed each day and it was confusingly strange that his chest actually ached slightly whenever Cas showed up looking impeccable. But Dean just accepted it as a fact - telling himself he just missed the old Cas, all ruffled and messy and completely oblivious to human appearances.
So, when Cas had walked into the kitchen one day with messy hair spiking every each way, Dean didn’t question why his heart burst and soared, beating irregularly, instead he just rushed close and put his hands on the dark, soft strands that he hadn’t touched in too long. He’d even smiled, huffing as he commented fondly, “your hair is a mess.”
But Cas pulled back like he’d been burned, frowning so hard that Dean crashed from his high almost instantly. His hands replaced Dean’s on his hair and he apologized softly, assuring Dean he’d fix it before turning away and disappearing.
That’s when Dean knew.
That’s when he knew for sure it had been his fault.
Now, here he was, days later, hovering in front of Cas’s door, hand raised, ready to knock. But he couldn’t find the courage to do it. What would he even say? Where would he start?
He dropped his hand for the third time, finally deciding to give up completely and try another day, even though he’d told himself the exact same thing yesterday and the day before that. He was about to turn away when the door abruptly opened. All of the sudden, he was faced with a rumpled, startled Cas looking at him like a deer in headlights.
“Dean? What are you doing here?”
And then, worried, hands rushing to fix his appearance, “I wasn’t expecting you, I’m not presentable. I’ll just-”
But Dean put his foot on the door, stopping Cas from closing it, and barged in confidently. That is, of course, until he was inside, staring awkwardly at Cas while the bewildered, hesitant angel stared back. And… well, maybe he was crazy but he wasn’t good with words so he just did what he always did, breaking the space between them, hands reaching to gently fix Castiel’s hair before running down his neck, gently correcting the askew lapels and tie before patting Cas’s chest and dropping his gaze.
“It’s okay. I like fixing it.”
Cas frowned, tilting his head like what Dean had just said didn’t make any sense.
Dean swallowed, biting his lip and looking back up, trying for a grin but failing.
“Yeah,” he muttered softly, hands still running down Castiel’s coat though it was already fixed, “I do.”
And he’d done what he’d come here to do, so he just brushed another stray strand of hair from Cas’ forehead and turned away.
After that, Cas was back to his rumpled, oblivious self and whenever Dean grumbled about how much of a mess he looked that day while fixing him, Cas tilted his head slightly and smiled like he knew some deep, ancient secret that no one else did.
And hell, maybe he did, because it was the angel that leaned over one day, his lips brushing over Dean’s in a soft, gentle kiss. At Dean’s startled, wide eyes, Cas had just smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Thank you, Dean.”
After that, it became a lot harder to fix Cas’ look. Whenever Dean tried, he always ended up doing worst. When he grumbled about it, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips, Cas just made fun of him and kissed him again.
Request: Can I request a bucky x reader where you bring bucky to your parents home or they come to visit at the compound or wherever you live and they bring pictures of you as a baby,pre teen and high school
Literally I was cringing just thinking about my preteen awkward pictures as I wrote this. I hope my boyfriend never finds those…..hahahaha
“I miss this.” You sat down at you and Bucky’s kitchen table. Your grandma was sitting across from you, a cup of coffee in front of both of you. Your hair was off your face, being pushed back with a couple bobby pins and hair sprayed to avoid it from coming loose.
“So have I, but it’s not like we’re necessarily right around the corner from one another anymore.” Your grandma chuckled softly, and placed both hands on the sides of the cup. You hummed in agreement and blew on your coffee to cool it down. Although you knew you weren’t really helping it cool down.
“I wish we were.” You admitted. Your grandma made a tsking sound and looked around your kitchen and dining room area.
“But you like it here, especially now that you live with that handsome man of yours.” She nodded to where your mom and Bucky were in the living room. Your mom and him laughing at something one of them said.
“I’m lucky.” You laughed softly, turning around to face your grandma again.
“That you are.” Your grandma agreed with you, a sly smile crossing over her red stained lips. “And so is he. You two are perfect for each other, never have I ever seen such a beautiful couple. So young, so in love.”
“Thank you?” You giggled, playing with the locket hanging from your necklace. You heard Bucky’s laughter erupt from the living room and you turned around quickly to see what had caused it.
“Mom? What’re you doing to him?” You scrambled up from your seat and made your way into the living room where your boyfriend and mom were looking through photos in an old photo album. “You brought that?”
“It’s for you, Y/n. I thought you would like to have pictures of your childhood around in your new home.” She looked up at you with a sly smile on her face, and you simply rolled your eyes and laughed.
“Scoot over then. I wanna see.” You sat in between your mom and Bucky. Your mom laughing at where you chose to sit, and placed the photo album in your lap.
The pictures started off sweet. They were from when you were just a little baby or toddler. Your outfits were adorable and awkward at times, but nobody can harsh on a little baby with pretty eyes and a silly smile. Bucky cooed at what you looked like all those years ago and you giggled softly, you cooed at yourself several times as well.
But then the pictures began to move on to when you became older. There was one when you were eight and were overly mad at the time the picture was taken and it was obvious by the look on your face. You knew what was coming, but you didn’t freak out until you saw the pictures that had been erased from your memory.
Your preteen years.
“Oh my god, no!” You tried to shut the album but both Bucky and your mom stopped you. Your preteen years were filled with awkward as all hell pictures. Horrible hair choices and purposely ugly faces every time a camera was pointed your way. Your fashion choice was awful and you cringed just looking at it.
“That’s you?!” Bucky stiffened a laugh. “You’re adorable.”
“No I wasn’t!” You blushed, reaching up to cover your cheeks with your hands as you cringed. “I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? God, shut up, okay!”
Bucky wrapped an arm lazily around you and pulled you closer to his chest as he chuckled at pictures of twelve year old you. You could feel the warmth radiate off his chest and scrunched your nose as his chin dug into the top of your head. You mom watched the two of you with heart eyes, she adored the two of you.
“I love you.” He murmured into your hair, although you could still hear the tease in his voice and the stiffened laughter.
“Whatever.” He squeezed you closer to his chest and you laughed. His scent swarmed your senses and your heart beat a little faster.
The pictures moved on from your preteen awkward years and moved on to when you were in High School. Your fashion taste were way cuter, and your hairstyles were way more stylish. You actually started looking like yourself, unlike when you were twelve. There were pictures of you with your friends, some who you were still friends to this day.
There was a picture of you when you first started learning how to drive and from all the times you went to sports games at your High School. There were pictures of you in Homecoming dresses and at school events. As you neared the end of your High School years, Bucky stared in awe as he saw you in your Prom dress from senior year.
You felt at ease when the album finally shut, and Bucky could feel it too since you slouched back into his chest again. Bucky chuckled once more and your mom grabbed your hands, pressing a light kiss to them and grinning at you.
“I love you, Y/n.” Your mom placed the album on your coffee table for you.
“I love you too, mama.” Your mom stood up and went into the kitchen to where your grandma still was. You tilted your head all the way back against Bucky’s chest and kissed under his chin lightly. He looked down at you, a grin still covering his handsome features.
“Is it too soon to tell your mom I love her?” You couldn’t help but laugh, moving your head back to facing forward. Bucky’s arm wrapped around your shoulder and hung lazily in front of your chest and stomach. You played with his long fingers with your much smaller ones.
“Feel free, she already loves you.” Bucky’s whole face lit up although you couldn’t see it, you just knew.
“When did she say that?” He sounded eager and excited, he adored your mom and her approval of him being with you meant the world to him.
“A while ago. She said you’re already family to her.” Bucky grinned more, and wrapped his fingers around yours before bringing them up to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss on them.
Bucky fell silent for several minutes. You could both hear your mom and grandma mumbling a conversation in the kitchen but neither of you could understand a word they were saying. They both adored Bucky to the moon and loved how he was with you.
“You’re so perfect.” The words came out of his mouth softly and his voice was only just above a whisper. Your heart skipped a beat and you froze for a second while playing with his fingers. You wrapped your fingers around his metal thumb and squeezed it tightly.
“You’ve always been perfect, doll.” He shifted his fingers around so that they were holding onto your hand instead. The coolness causing chills to run throughout your body. “Even when you were a dork.”
“Hey!” You giggled, your eyes closing softly and staying closed for several moments. You opened them and looked down at the your hand intertwined in his. The metal feeling of his fingers never failed to cause a rush of butterflies in your stomach and electricity to run throughout you. He gave you a sense of life.
“You’re perfect, Bucky.” He didn’t say anything. He only squeezed your hand softly, careful not to hurt you. He was always worried about his arm around you, he always thought he would snap you in half if he wasn’t gentle. For the longest time, he wouldn’t let you touch his arm.
You told him you loved him, every last bit of him. You told him you loved his arm, you told him that it wasn’t scary to you. It was a part of him, and you loved everything about him.
two weirdly specific stress dreams I had last night
1. I’ve gotten the long hair above my undercut trimmed. something has gone horrible wrong and it’s all choppy and gross. I have to get it all shaved off. I’m not actually too bummed out about this (I’ve always wanted to try having super short hair!) but due to the circumstances leading up to it and wondering about societal expectations I’m still stressed.
2. I’m up in the balcony above some…swimming pool? it’s dark. Sue Perkins is there, we both have microphones and are about to try playing Just a Minute. I spend an unreasonable amount of time fumbling around and getting set up, and finally it’s my turn to start talking about my topic, “Cleaning the Floor”.
I get caught once for repetition, so it’s Sue’s turn. I also get her for repetition a moment later but shortly after that I get flustered because I’ve started talking weird after listening to her english accent. I drop my microphone and go running after it–it’s very important to speak into the microphone even though we’re literally the only people in the dark-ass swimming pool room.
3. bonus non-specific high school stress dream where my family is moving and I’m going to have to spend the last year of HS in a different school. but I’m weirdly excited because I know this will give me a chance to interact with new people who don’t know me, and maybe do better.
it, but usually within a day we all forget about it, leaving a hole
maybe a feet deep, something that our parents would twist their ankles in and get mad at us for later.
Not us. Not the boys
of Redwood Drive.
There was about
twelve of us, ranging from age five to twelve, and we wanted to dig a
hole so deep we’d fall into the center of the earth. I can’t
remember why we decided to do it. I think Parker read ‘Journey To
The Center Of The Earth’ one too many times, or maybe that summer
was just that boring. Either way, it was in the woods in my backyard
where we began ‘excavation’.
Requested by a very cute nonnie! They requested:
15. “remind me again of how much you love me.” and
51. “you’ve never looked more beautiful than you are in this moment.” with eleven! Very cute! If you want to request with a prompt, click HERE for the prompt list.
Warnings: Too much fluff, implied smut.
You took off your heels, giggling loudly. Your feet hurt, these shoes were horrible. You were exhausted by all the running. But you had never been happier. The Doctor collapsed next to you on the TARDIS floor, fiddling with his bow-tie.
“Let’s never do that again,” the Doctor groaned and you started laughing loudly. He tried to look serious but as soon as he looked you in the eye he also burst into laughter.
“Did..did..you see the…look on..the premier’s face…when..he….realized,” you said, wiping away some tears from the laughing. Your whole body hurt from all the laughter.
“I’m sorry your birthday was ruined,” the Doctor said, taking your hand and helping you up like a real gentleman.
“Are you kidding?” you asked, “that was the most amazing thing ever. I went to a ball, wore a fairytale dress, stuffed myself with the amazing food there and then run it off escaping from the premier’s guards. I’ve never enjoyed myself more. That was the best birthday ever.”
The Doctor grinned and you just looked at him. He was the most handsome man, you thought. His smile, it lighted up the whole room, like always. And his eyes, they were ancient and old and tired most of the time, but now they were glowing, shining. It reminded you of stars. His hair was messy, his suit a little bit tattered from all the running. He breathed heavily.
”You’ve never looked more beautiful than you are in this moment,” he said softly and you blushed.
“I was just about to say that about you,” you said, leaning into him. He kissed the top of your head, your nose and your cheeks, while he still held his hands into yours. You felt so loved and pretty that moment. In a ruined ball gown, your hair a horrible mess, all sweaty. But the Doctor loved you and that… that was..enough.
You let go of his hands and wrapped them around his neck, kissing him softly. He smiled against your lips and then kissed back. Your eyes were closed, all you could feel were his arms around you, his lips.
You stepped away. “Doctor, how can you love me?”
He frowned. “What do you mean, darling?”
“Well,” you started, “you’ve seen so much of this universe. You’ve met more people than any other person, I think. How can you love me after you’ve seen all that. I’m normal, just plain. You’ve met Time Ladies, Goddesses, Princesses and Queens. Women I could never compete with. So why did you choose me?”
He smiled softly.
“Because I’ve travelled the universe and I’ve seen a lot beautiful things, but never combined in one person, like you. I’ve met people who had brilliant eyes like you, but they never had your kindness. I’ve met people with your bravery, but they never had your intelligence. I’ve met people who were as pretty as you, but they never had your wonder for the universe. You’re perfect.”
You wiped away a tear you hadn’t noticed.
“I love you,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.
“I love you too,” he said back, hugging you. You were content, just standing there, being held by the man you loved more than anything. But the had other ideas.
“Come on. To bed,” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. You followed him up the stairs, almost tripping over your skirts. In the end the Doctor just carried you bridal style and to tell the truth, you didn’t really mind. In the bedroom you shared the lights were already dimmed, something you suspected the TARDIS of doing. Thanks, old girl, you thought, while the Doctor helped you out of the dress. It was nice to wear to the ball, you had felt really beautiful, but now the corset was suffocating you. You put the dress back in the closet and then turned around, kissing the Doctor again.
”Remind me again of how much you love me?“ you asked, cheekily. He smiled at you.
“With pleasure, Miss L/N,” he whispered into your ear and you shivered slightly. Before you knew it he was on top of you and you were on the bed. He started kissing your neck and lower and you just knew you were the luckiest girl in the universe!
Feel free to request an imagine or just drop by to talk about something!
reblogs, comments and constructive criticism is very much appreciated!
Also, English is not my first language, so if you see some grammar
mistakes, let me know so I can fix them!
(A/N: Hey fellow Tumblr-Users and Others! This smol fanfic comes with a WARNING!!!! It’s a bit sad. That’s all. Otherwise have fun and prosper!)
Everybody loves the things you do From the way you talk To the way you move… Everybody here is watching you ‘Cause you feel like home You’re like a dream come true But if by chance you’re here alone Can I have a moment Before I go? 'Cause I’ve been by myself all night long Hoping you’re someone I used to know
You look like a movie You sound like a song My God, this reminds me Of when we were young
As you walked towards the prisons cells, with your long black and (f/c) dress swishing with each step, you thought what on Asgard happened to the Man you once knew. You had know both Loki and Thor since you all were children, your first meeting being when your mother had left you in the care of the Frigga All-Mother. You still remember that day.