no mother! i can blow myself!

Tom Holland Imagine: All Too Well

Summary: This is based off of the song All Too Well by Taylor Swift. So be ready for a sad ending… Im sowwy…

A/N: Idk why I wrote this tbh I didn’t need this sadness in my life…

Warnings: None

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“I walked through the door with you, the air was cold… but something bout it felt like home somehow…” 

 "Come on, love, you’re going to freeze to death!“ Tom called.

 I smiled at him and ran up the sidewalk to join him at the door of his parents’ house. Tom sat my bags on the ground and reached into his pocket to pull out his key. As soon as the door was open, the loud scream of Tom’s name filled both of our ears as his family came running around the corner to take in the rare sight of Tom Holland standing inside their home. 

Tom hugged all of them before turning to introduce me. 

 "Guys, this is Y/N. The love of my life.” Tom said with a wide smile across his face. 

 Tom’s mother smiled at me before pulling me into a loving hug. 

 "Oh, I can just tell you’re going to fit right in with us! Tom, take her bags up to her room! We’re going to give her a tour really fast!“ 

 I smiled at Tom before following his mother down the hallway. 

 "I told you they’d love you.” Tom whispered in my ear as he pressed a kiss to my temple.

 "Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place and I can picture it after all these days…“ 

 Tom’s hand held mine as we walked down the path. His other hand held the leash that Tessa was on. I pressed myself into his side as another cold strike of the wind hit us. 

 "I told you to bring your coat, love." 

 "I know, but it’s not that bad when the wind isn’t blowing. And besides, I have you beside me to keep me warm." 

 Tom smiled down at me and kissed my forehead as we continued our walk through the woods. Tom let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around me as I hugged his torso. We both walked in silence as the leaves began to fall around us. 

 "This is my absolute favorite time of year. It’s so beautiful, I could just stay out here and watch it all day.” I said. 

 Tom hummed in agreement. 

 "Well, as great as that would be, cuddling up by a warm fire with some hot chocolate is pretty great too.“ 

 I laughed and hugged Tom even tighter. Tom then stopped walking and turned to face me. 

 "I have to tell you something, Y/N…" 

 "Okay… what is it?" 

 "I-I love you." 

 I stared up at Tom in shock. Neither one of us had said those three words yet. I could tell Tom was growing anxious by my silence. 

 "I love you, too, Tom." 

 Tom’s smile grew huge and he pulled me into a kiss as the leaves continued to fall around us. 

 "Cause there we are again on that little town street, you almost ran the red cause you were looking over at me…" 

 "Why does Harrison have to live so far away from you?” I whined as we continued on the long drive towards our friend’s house. 

 "Because that’s the house his mum and dad bought.“ Tom whined back. 

 I giggled and reached over to turn the music up. I began to quietly sing the song that was playing in the radio. My feet were placed on his dashboard. Even though he hated when I did that, he had given up on trying to keep me from doing. Because I always did it. 

 "Uh, Tom? Why aren’t you slowing down? Tom! That’s a red light! Slow down!" 

Tom then hit the breaks as hard as he could so that we wouldn’t fly out and get hit by other cars. 

 "What was that all about?” I asked as I put my hands on my hips. 

 "Sorry, love. You’re just really beautiful. The wind was blowing through your hair and you’re voice, God your voice. I just couldn’t look away…“ he said as he began to blush. 

 "Alright, lover boy. Just pay attention to the road.” I said, causing us both to laugh. 

 “Photo album on the counter, your cheeks are turning red…" 

 Tom groaned as his mother continued to flip through the old photo album.

 "And here’s Tom after he lost his first tooth. He got so scared and thought he was dying! He woke up and screamed at the top of his lungs. It was hilarious!”

 Tom then stood up and grabbed the photo album from his mother. 

 "Please mum, not now!“ 

 Tom’s cheeks were bright red which made me and his mother laugh even harder. 

 "Well, I think you were very adorable, Tom.” I said as I leaned across and kissed his cheek. 

 The action only made his cheeks turn redder. 

 "Oh! I have to show you the one of him from the time he put my make up on himself!“ Nikki said as she raced off towards her room. 

 "NO!” Tom screamed as he chased his mom down the hallway. 

 "Cause there we are again in the middle of the night, we’re dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light…“ 

 I had woken him up after I had a bad dream. Tom immediately took me to the kitchen to heat me up a glass of warm milk to help me go back to sleep. As we waited for the milk to warm on the stove, Tom pulled me into his chest and began to dance with me around the kitchen. 

 "And you can tell everybody that this is your song…” Tom quietly sang as he twirled me around. 

 Tom knew how much I loved this song solely from the fact that Ewan McGregor sounds like an absolute angel when he sings it in Moulin Rouge! Tom immediately became jealous the first time I expressed my crush on Ewan McGregor because he had played his son in The Impossible. Although Tom wasn’t as talented in Ewan, I loved his version a million times more because it was coming from him. 

 "Maybe we got lost in translation maybe I asked for too much… but maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you tore it all up…“ 

 "Tom, I’m not comfortable with this… I want you to follow your dreams, but this is too much. Please, just be honest with me. Is it true?" 

 Tom stared at me. His silence was all I needed. I slid out from the booth in the coffee shop and began to walk towards the exit. As I reached the door, I turned to face Tom one last time. He had his head placed in his hands. 

 "I just wanted you to love me.” I said to him before I walked out. 

 “You call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest…“ 

 I hadn’t left my house in days. The thought of seeing Tom was too much for me to handle. I still love him. I think I always will. I felt my phone ring beside me and I answered it stupidly without looking at the caller ID. 

 "Hello?" 

 "Y/N? Thank god…" 

 "Oh.. hi, Tom." 

 "Listen love, I know I hurt you but she meant nothing to me. I love you. I will always love you. You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted! I was drunk and I hadn’t seen you in weeks and I was so lonely and she looked so much like you. I love you. I only want you. Please give me a second chance, I won’t let you down." 

 I felt a single tear fall down my cheeks as I heard his pleas. My heart was pounding against my chest, begging my brain to just forgive him so that it’s suffering could end, but I knew I had to stay strong and stick to my morales, because if I didn’t, I would lose who I am. 

 "Tom, never call me again." 

 And with that, I hung up. 

 "Time won’t fly its like I’m paralyzed by it, I’d like to be my old self again, but I’m still trying to find it…” 

 I spent what felt like years trying to fall back into my old life, but Tom was everywhere. His new success with Spider-Man had his face plastered on every magazine. I knew it had only been a few weeks since the phone call, but it felt like centuries. Tom had invaded my heart and I knew he would never truly leave it. I walked down the path that I had walked many times with him and Tessa. The same path where we first told each other “I love you”. I felt more tears slip from my eyes. I felt my heart break a million times more as I saw the leaves fall around me. Memories of the time I spent with him were constantly running through my mind, reminding me of what I had lost. I wish I had taken him back. What he had done was wrong, but if I hadn’t have been so stubborn I know we could’ve overcome it, but now I’ve ruined it. He’s probably already got another girl wrapped up in his arms, whispering all the sweet things that used to be for my ears only. He probably took her down this very path to tell her he loved her. He probably dances with her in the middle of the night and sings to her now. These thoughts ran through my mind as a constant reminder that Tom Holland was no longer mine.

Royalty Mess: Part 2

a/n: a tiny little smut ahead! also, strong language! also, some drama! a little fluff and might do a part three as well

Prologue / Part One

Masterlist


It approximately hit me with an enormous strike in my mind on the stage that I had revealed something worldwide known scandal or mediastruck. I looked into his eyes, nodded and faced off from the stage. Immediately, the jerking feeling started to pump up and left a trail behind of something unusual and stupid. It was my own fault, my own mistake that I did. I just wanted to hug Shawn so bad. Tears didn’t stop screaming (yes, screaming!) and streaming, I was tend to be hold by my security to take and leave me to some kind of very protected room where I could wait and calm down. Vivid lights and some beautiful tapestry on the wall were welcoming the room, it was Shawn’s room. I was left all by my own, my guards in front of the door in the hallway. It all seemed so pallid and numb now, also quiet. I fell on the ground, sight became blurry, mind unconsious, whole body feeling like being on a floating air. Teardrops radically changed direction as it was previously falling down on the cheeks, now they were flooding down from eyecorners to on my hair which were placed on my ears.

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Forever

 A/N: I present to you an angsty fic where they are still at Watford (so AU) and they’re both going through some things and need comfort.

Simon

Packing my bags to get ready for another year at Watford I couldn’t help but think back to how awful this summer had actually been. The Mage had sent me to a Catholic orphanage where there were too many kids and too little food, there was also the fact that I always smelt like smoke so the teachers would “discipline” me as to let go of my “sinful ways” honestly it was terrible. The kids were mean and ate the small portion of food that was supposed to be mine while regularly teasing me.

I was so ready to finally get to Watford and see my friends I took out my list on the first bus not being able to wait any longer.

Baz

“Basilton I’ve been talking to the old families and they think you’re ready. Did you hear me Basilton, this will be the year we finally take down the Mage and his pesky little heir!” My father had been going on about this since he had come back from the gathering which had been about a week ago, and each time without fail my stomach churned at the fact that mine and Snow’s fight was so close. I knew it was unavoidable, Snow would inevitably kill me and I would still love him.

:3 :3 :3 Time skip :3 :3 :3

Simon

I arrive in the room and see Baz’s things are already here. “Weird” I think as I am usually one of the first students to arrive while Baz only came a week or two before, he probably needs to set up whatever traps he’s prepared for me this year.

I pushed these thoughts aside and headed down for tea, Penny should be arriving in a few days she’ll want to get ahead on our classes to “be ready for exams”, I don’t understand why she worries so much exams are only halfway through the year and she’s worrying about them before the year even starts! Not many people sat at the cafeteria a couple of third and fourth years near the front while at the back I could spot Baz picking at some biscuits, he looked up and just got a second out eyes met before he got and left. When he stood I noticed how much skinnier he looked any thoughts of him coming earlier to kill me vanish.

Baz

Snow came in making a racket as usual, and had to hold back a gasp. He looked horrendous, he was way to skinny even more so then when he usually returns to Watford, he had a bruise forming on his jaw and he seemed on edge. I understand that with the Humdrum still out there he would be apprehensive but he flinched at everything. 

I tried to ignore what my father had said as he hadn’t specifically given me an order nor a plan. Snow stared at me all through out the day, during lunch i sat with my back facing him picking at my food and even then I could feel his eyes boring into me, and for all I know with that weird magick of his I might as well have two holes in the back of my head.

*****Time skip*****

As I make my way to the catacombs I dully notice Snow following me, I’d try to shake him off but I honestly didn’t have the energy, so I let him follow me and knowing I was so far ahead I left a trail of drained rats behind me. I collapsed in L'tombe de l'enfants shortly after Snow came in.

Simon

When I had followed Baz down to the Catacombs I had expected him to at least try to get away not leave behind a trail of rats for me to follow. When I find him in what looks to be some sort of tomb he doesn’t even look up, I approach him slowly and not really know what to do I sit next to him “What is it Snow?” there’s no malice in his voice I turn my head to look at him to find he had already been looking at me “You haven’t any food all day.” He rolls his eyes at me but doesn’t say anything and I think he expects me to keep going, so I do “And… I don’t know” he sighs exasperated but no snarky reply leaves his lips “Just tell me what’s wrong” I don’t know why I ask but he seems to gloomy and I generally want to know but the question seems to send him into shock.

Baz

Did Simon Snow just ask me what was wrong? Thoughts fill my head coming and going I don’t even have time to process what they are. After a few minutes the shock reduces and I am able to get out what I hope was a coherent sentence “Wh-why do you care Snow?” his face goes red and he looks so adorable I’m not sure if I’ll be able to control myself “Be-because… I- I just do” “That’s not an answer Snow” I can see he’s getting angry and down here there is no Anathema, no one would find my body  I think mindlessly “Please tell me Baz, I-I want to help” of course he wants to help because he’s Simon bloody Snow and he expects me to just bare my soul to him just because he asked. But even through all these thoughts that is exactly what I find myself doing, and I tell him everything I tell him about my mother, why I come down here, I tell him about my father and his plans. I tell him everything, by the end I’m a sobbing mess and not even sure if he can understand the words I manage to sob out “And I love you Simon!” I drop my head to my knees and let the tears fall readying for the blow, for the onslaught of  yells and insults i was sure to receive. It doesn’t come though instead I feel strong arms wrap around me as he lifts me up and carries me to what is most likely our room. Usually I would never agree to appear so weak in public but as the school was practically empty I let Snow carry me up the stairs, one step at a time. 

He places me on what appears to be his bed and sit there sitting against the wall me a hideous mess sobbing into his shoulder and him sitting there patiently petting my head waiting for the tears to end.

Simon

I’m not entirely sure what to do I was never good at the comforting thing much less to someone who was suppose to be my enemy.   So I just sat there letting him shed what seemed to be years worth of tears on my shoulder as I thought about everything he had said. ‘And I love you Simon!’ the words echoed in my head, the more I thought about it the more I thought maybe I didn’t hate Baz, maybe he wasn’t bad after all he had said he only acted that way to cover up his feeling because he had thought I hated him. Which I did, but after seeing how broken he actually was and hearing the truth I can’t help but think that maybe Baz wasn’t evil, maybe he was capable of kindness. “Snow. Why are you doing this for me?” he sounded so weak and when I turned to look at him my heart sunk “Because Baz, maybe you aren’t so bad and I’m so tired of fighting. Why don’t we call a truce and maybe…you know, be friends?”

Baz

Simon Snow just asked me to be his friend. Simon Snow is tired of fighting and he wants to be my friend, “O-Ok” I don’t know what’s wrong with me Snow is usually the one stuttering but, Simon Snow my former ‘enemy’ wants to be friend! 

()()()()(three days later)()()()()

Since that day Snow made good on his promise befriending me and going as far as to invite me to sit with him during meals although I don’t know if that was just to make sure I ate, and after a while I realised I never got a chance to ask him what was wrong with him. He still flinched a lot and avoided teachers at all costs. So one of these days we were laid down in our room Snow doing homework while I read a book I decided to ask him “So, Snow” he looked up and turned to face me “Yes dear Basilton” I rolled my eyes at the use of my full name but decided to continue “I was wondering. Well, how was your summer?” I asked guessing that whatever happened during summer was the cause, apparently I was right as instantly after I asked his eyes clouded over and his face went blank “Fine. Why do you ask?” his voice held no emotion and I found myself becoming more concerned as to what actually happened during Snow’s summer. 

Simon

 "Simon" he spoke quietly as he got up from his own bed and got on my I turned so we were face to face, we were so close “Simon, you can tell me” I felt tears sting my eyes at his quiet voice, his words were so innocent but if I were to speak they’d surely break along with me. So I decided to show him instead, unbuttoning my shirt I avoided looking at Baz I couldn’t bare to see his face of disgust once he saw how broken I was.

Baz


When I saw his hands unbuttoning his shit I was shocked at first but as his tawny skin came into view I saw the bruises that marked it , the lower he got the deeper they seemed to get. When he reached his abdomen I saw scar that had surely bled without really meaning to I stretched my hand to touch them, but when he flinched back I retreated my hand bringing it to his face instead, I lifted his chin forcing him to look at me and as I saw his tear stained face I couldn’t hold back. I enveloped him in a hug “Simon, tell me who did this to you” he had his head in the crook of my neck sobbing wildly as I help him close. 

He pulled back taking my hand instead “Simon, please tell me what happened” I asked this time more pleadingly, he shook his head and he looked so scared. I squeezed his hand as if begging him to tell me, he was staring so intensely at me and he must have seen how desperate I looked because he  nodded his head ever so slightly and began to tell me his story.

“Th-the Mage had sent me to ano-another home like he does every year, b-but this h-home was Catholic a-and there wasn’t enough food to properly feed everyone s-so when it was m-my turn to e-eat th-the kids would steal my f-food.” I brought him back into my arms and he turned so his back pressed against my chest, I could feel my own tears threatening to fall as he continued “A-and I always smell like sm-smoke, s-so the teachers thought I-I was a smoker and wo-would beat me if they could smell it” his voice cracked at the end and I held him tighter. I knew the Mage was bad but to send Simon to such a place, how could he! How dare those people hurt my Simon for no reason! Do they not know who he is! Who I am! 

I stop ranting as I realised I had just said that aloud, Simon is looking at me with an incredulous look and I realised what I had just “Your Simon?” he asks smirking, smirking! I feel my cheeks go red but seeing as I hadn’t gone hunting yet it was very faint. He sat up and looked straight at me I didn’t have the strength to look away “Would you like me to be yours?” he’s so close he only needs to whisper and as he gets nearer I am at a lost of words so I just nod my head. He closes the space between us  and it was more then I could have ever imagined, his lips were wet and salty from former tears and he was doing this nice thing with his chin, I let him lead I’d never kissed anyone before. When he pulled away his lips were red and swollen as I’m sure were mine “I’ll be yours as long as you’re mine” he whispered still so close “Forever” I replied and I hope it was enough the next second he crashes his lips back on mine.

Caged [29]

Characters: NamjoonxReader
Length: 2561 words
Genre: Mafia AU
Warnings: Violence

Part 28  Part 30

The sharp click resounded in the quiet room and all you could do was stare at the gun in Taehyung’s hand. He was holding it with one hand, his stance too frontal and his index finger cramping around the trigger. You could tell that he wasn’t used to shooting guns, and that he had never bothered to learn how to do it correctly and effectively. Unfortunately, that didn’t make the bullets of the 9mm any less deadly.

“Why on earth do you want to kill her?”

Yoongi’s voice was the next thing to cut through the silence, but it did nothing to help you relax. Your body was tense and your jaw hurt from clenching it way too hard. It didn’t make sense to you how sad Taehyung looked while pointing a gun at your face.

“I don’t want to kill her,” Taehyung countered. “I have orders.”

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Chapter 9 - Can A Man and Woman Be Just Friends?

Disclaimer: Hello to my fellow Joshifer shippers and tumblr users. I’ve decided to get things up and running again with Joshifer by publishing chapter 9. If you are still with me on my fanfiction, which I’m praying you are, then I hope you enjoy this chapter. There’s more to come, don’t worry. Don’t forget to like, reblog and share! xo.

I arrived home less than ten minutes later, covered in sweat. To my surprise, my parents arrived before I did and were sitting at the dining table; they both smiled, chuckling as I unclipped Lulu’s chain, allowing the basset hound to collapse, exhausted, by my mother’s feet. My mom abandoned the shiny black quilted Chanel purse I’d bought for her birthday, reaching down to stroke Lulu’s fur.

“She’s beat.” Mom laughed, her fingers skimming along the dog’s back. “What’d you do? Run a marathon?”

“Kinda.” I conceded, mopping the sweat off my brow. “I was in a hurry to get home. Josh is dropping by in a couple of minutes.” I smile sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course we won’t.” My dad said, lowering the newspaper. “We did invite his family after all. It’s just a little earlier than we were expecting.”

“You what?”

“We sent them invitations via email two weeks ago.” My mother confirmed. She got up and refilled Lulu’s water bowl at the kitchen sink. “Michelle said she couldn’t come, neither can Chris. So it’s totally okay if it’s just Josh. At least we have a member of the Hutcherson family here.”

I stared at them, flabbergasted. They hadn’t mentioned inviting my best friend and his family over, not in the last hundred text messages or phone calls we exchanged. Oh well. I shrug, attempting to pass off the gesture as nonchalance. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Can I help with anything before I do?”

“No, honey. Go on up. We’re all good.”

“Okay.” Without further ado, I went upstairs. I grabbed a quick change of clothes and headed for the communal bathroom. During the years that my brothers and I shared the bathroom, it had been messy, hectic; with clothes everywhere, toothbrushes strewn all over the sink.

Now, it was pristine. My mother had repainted the walls, although still in the same colour. The room emitted a pleasant, floral smell. By the corner of the bathtub lay a stack of neatly folded fresh towels and on the sink was a vase of lilies.

Grinning slightly, I shed my clothes and hopped into the shower. After an hour beneath the sun, it felt good to wash away the sweat. I lingered in the shower a little longer than usual, kneading the shampoo carefully into my hair and scrubbing the soap onto my skin.

As soon as I finished, I turned off the tap, clambering carefully out of the tub. While I was towelling off, taking great care to drain water from my hair, I heard a familiar voice. Holding my breath, I sidled closer to the door, pressing my ear against the wood.

“Josh, sweetie, come on in!”

I gasped.

“Happy birthday, Karen. I’m sorry I stopped by a little early. But here, I got you something.”

“Oh don’t worry. Why, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, please, it’s not a big deal. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will, honey. Come, come. Are you hungry?” My mother asked. “I can rustle up some pancakes for you, if you like.”

“Would you kill me if I said I was?” Josh chuckled easily. I heard my mother’s resounding, tinkling laugh.

“Of course not. Go sit down, you’ve had a long drive.”

“Thanks, Karen.”

I dressed quickly as the voices faded; almost tripping over myself in my haste to pull on a pair of jeans. When I was done, I brushed my teeth, working to remove any traces of cinnamon roll. I blow dried my hair, combing my short locks until they were dry and tangle free.

Prying open my toiletries kit, I put on some makeup, abruptly conscious of the effort I was putting in. It had been a long time since I cared this much about the amount of cosmetics I used. I squinted my eyes as I dabbed on some lipgloss. When I was done, I leaned back, staring at my reflection.

Not too much. Simple. I couldn’t help but smile just a little. I looked pretty good. I hurried downstairs, the smile on my face expanding the minute my eyes met his warm hazel ones.

Josh was sitting at the table with my father, deep in conversation. They were playfully arguing about March Madness; deciding which of the team’s performed better. He flashed my favourite crooked grin.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” I chuckled at our plain greeting.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders enthusiastically, hugging him. He responded in kind, giving my waist a gentle squeeze. I held onto him a second longer than usual, aware of how much I missed him. He smelled the same. Like fresh linen and mint.

“What’s up, Jen?” Josh asked, releasing me.

“Eh, not much. Went for a walk. Nothing special. How about you? What have you been up to?” I took a seat at the table, across from him. He followed my lead, sitting down just as my mom set a stack of fresh pancakes in front of him.

“Well, it’s been a long ass drive from Union. But it was great to be home. I never actually left the house. I hung around with my folks, my brother and my grandma.” He poured a generous measure of maple syrup. “God, it makes me thankful we’re filming so close by. I get to see my family more often.”

“Yeah you got that right.” I agree, with an affectionate glance at my father.

“So, how’s the prep for the party coming along? Can I help?” Josh asked thickly, his mouth full of pancake. I shook my head, grinning and help myself to a few pieces.

Dad folded up his newspaper. “Things are good, son. All ready. You don’t have to lift a finger, we got most of the stuff out. You can just hang out until the party starts.”

“Are you sure?”

This time, my mother answered, taking a seat beside him. “Yes, we’re sure. Thanks for the casserole dish, honey, I’ve been looking for one of these.” She pulled the bubble wrap off a shiny glass platter, turning it over with undisguised glee. I recognised the product instantly; it was a Williams Sonoma item, a brand my mom loves so much.

“Sure.” Josh replied easily. “My mom and grandma love those. They actually helped me pick it out two days ago. I think it’s their way of compensating for not being able to come today.”

“Oh, tell them not to worry. It’s not a big deal.” My mom said anxiously, her brow creasing.

“Don’t sweat it, Mama Lawrence. It’s all good. They added a gift voucher too, I think. From um, this Australian outdoor brand, Wild Earth. It’s got all this neat camping stuff, everything you’ll need for the summer season.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” My mother exclaimed, her eyes skimming across the birthday card Josh had written. Sure enough, a voucher fell out from inside the envelope; emblazoned with the image of an enormous oak tree. “Wow, this is too much. Michelle didn’t have to..”

“My mom told me not to take no for an answer, to make sure you accept the card without any hassle.” He grinned mischievously. “Her words, not mine.”

“Obviously, Michelle’s just as stubborn as you are, honey.” My dad chuckled.

“Well, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Josh.” My mother kissed the top of my best friend’s head affectionately, her manicured hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “I’ll thank your mom in a minute.”

“You’re welcome.” Josh beamed, pleased at my mom’s response. His obvious delight made my heart skip several beats. He truly was a selfless person, a person who did everything they could to make a person happy. And delighted in making their lives better. “This is so good, by the way, Karen. Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetie.”

“Son, do you have somewhere to stay tonight because..” My father began, leaning forward. Josh interrupted quickly, politely cutting across my father’s statement.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a hotel nearby. I wouldn’t want to impose on you more than I already have, sir.” I roll my eyes in his direction. He had the manners of a proper Southern gentleman. When he wasn’t messing around, of course.

“You wouldn’t be.” Dad smiled, looking at him with fatherly concern. “If you’d let me finish, I was gonna say that you’re more than welcome to stay here. God knows, we have enough room.”

“Woohoo, sleepover!” I nudge Josh playfully. “Late night horror movie marathons, popcorn.”

“Uh, you hate horror movies.” He said, sniggering.

“Not when I have people to watch it with. Remember when I watched Insidious by myself and I called you screaming?”

“Ah, yeah that’s right. Fine, I’ll watch one with you. Is it okay if I stay?” He asked, turning to my parents.

My mother smiled. “Of course, honey. We’re happy to have you here.” She ruffled his dark hair fondly. “You can take your pick of Ben or Blaine’s rooms.”

“Wow, so many choices.” Josh chuckled appreciatively. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, son.” My father said, disappearing once more behind his daily newspaper.

Lingering at the table, I made myself a cup of hot cocoa while I waited for Josh to finish his meal. The atmosphere in the kitchen was easy, natural; my mother remained at the sink, cooking more of the pancakes. My father was ruffling through the newspaper again, pausing to peruse the sports section while making snide comments about the Cincinnati Reds. In between bites, Josh impishly replied back, his answers just as witty.

When I sat down, mug in hand, he was halfway through his meal and in the midst of an animated conversation with my father. In this, they were very much alike; they stood by their favourite teams, staunchly defending them from criticism. I sipped my cocoa, not bothering to keep up. Football didn’t interest me as much as it did them.

There were dregs at the bottom of the mug by the time my best friend had finished his meal. He placed a hand above his lips, narrowly suppressing a burp. I raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was finally done.

“Yep, I’m good.” Josh said, catching my eye. “This was so yummy, Karen, thank you.”

“Of course, dear. You two can watch some TV, if you like.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can help with?” He asked helpfully, getting to his feet. I mimicked him, approaching the sink so I could rinse out my dirty mug before replacing it in the dish washer.

“Not right now, but if you could help me work the grill later, that’d be great.” My father answered, lowering the newspaper slightly.

“Definitely. You just tell me when.” Josh nodded eagerly.

“Okay. Now run along, you kids.”

We left my parents in the kitchen, heading for the living room. I sat on the couch cross-legged while Josh took my father’s arm chair. He rubbed his stomach contentedly, unsuccessfully suppressing a burp.

I giggle appreciatively, responding with a burp of my own. We laughed even harder, amused at our childishness. By the time we were done burping, I could feel the strain in my cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop in case I throw up.” Josh said, taking a deep breath. “So, what do you feel like doing, Jen?”

“Hmm.” I pause, lifting my fingers to my chin. “I’ve already done some running and showered so maybe not something too physical. Everything’s already set for Mom’s birthday tonight.. Let’s see.. Umm..” I hemmed and hawed a mite longer.

“God, you’re so indecisive.” He teased, watching me chew my lips.

“Shut up please.” I held up a hand imperiously. “I’m trying to think.” I close my eyes, doing my best to ignore him sniggering as he lolled in the arm chair. “Well I can’t think with you giggling over there in the corner!”

“Then, let me make a suggestion.”

“No.” I fold my arms across my chest.

“Come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

“Hmm, fine, I’m all ears.”

“What do you think about going to the zoo? I passed one on my way over here and I dunno, I was thinking.. ‘I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.’ Like on a field trip before my mom homeschooled me.”

“A zoo..” I tilt my head, mulling it over.

“Just for a few hours, at least until the party anyway.”

“Yeah, why not?” I stand up, straightening the cream coloured shirt I wore. “I’m all for seeing monkeys that are not like the CGI mutts we fought in Hawaii.”

Josh laughed. “Oh good point.”

“Let me just grab a sweater and we can go.” Suddenly, I came upon a brilliant idea. “Hey, I have a thought. Can we take Bear with us? Theodore’s a bit too young. But if you want it to be just us, then that’s cool as well.”

“Sure.” He smiled easily, catching me off guard.

“Um, what? Aren’t you gonna give this some thought?”

“No, seriously Jen, it’s fine. Of course we can take Bear. We just have to get a car seat for him.” Josh said soothingly. I search his eyes for signs of reluctance but found none.

“Yay! We can swing by Ben’s place and borrow theirs. I’ll call him, hang on.” I reply, one arm in the left side of my black trench coat.

“Wait, we can do that in the Jeep. It has the in-built phone system. I got his number dialled in, don’t sweat it.”

“Are you sure?” I button up my coat, gazing at him uncertainly.

“Yes.” Josh crossed the room to pat me on the back. “If I didn’t want to, I would have said something.”

“Okay.”

“Great. Let’s go to the zoo!!”

I laughed at his childlike enthusiasm. “Lead the way, Hutch!”

****

An hour later, we were standing outside the wrought iron gates of the Louisville Zoo. Josh had gone to buy us tickets; a feat which was easy, given the off-peak time. There was only a handful of visitors; mostly young families with children still too young to be in school.

I held Bear’s hand while we waited. My brother and sister-in-law had agreed enthusiastically to our offer to take him to the zoo with us. While they loved him dearly, it was taking up all their energy looking after a newborn and a toddler with limitless energy. The kid in question was appropriately dressed for the outing; wearing khaki pants, shirt and small black boots. A matching green hat concealed his blonde curls.

Bear was hopping on the balls of his feet, tugging at my hand in his haste to see the animals. I tightened my grip on his ever so slightly, stilling him. He looked up at me, his features twisted in a grimace. Oh boy, we were about five seconds away from a tantrum.

Josh rejoined us, waving the tickets in his hand. I sighed with relief as my nephew’s face cleared. He thrust his little fist in the air at the sight of my best friend coming toward us. I squeeze his hand affectionately, feeling him pull me forward.

“Here we go. Got the tickets!” Josh announced cheerfully. He used his free hand to lightly tap Bear’s nose, making the child giggle. “You ready for safari time?”

“Yea!”

I chuckle as he handed the tickets to a bored-looking teen employee. “Thank god you got back in time. This little shit was five seconds away from a full tantrum.”

“Saved by the bell, hey?” Josh’s eyes twinkled as he laughed.

“You have no idea.”

Once the tickets had been returned, we went inside. Josh unfurled a large map of the zoo, examining it intently. “Okay we’re right outside the Reptile House, if you wanna go in there first. Otherwise we can visit the Aviary, where they keep the birds.”

I knelt down so I was eye to eye with my nephew. “Which one do you want to see first? Bird or snake?”

Bear frowned in concentration, a line appearing above his brows. “Snake.” He said seriously.

Grinning, I straightened. “He’s cast his vote. He wants to see the snakes.”

“Then, snakes it is.”

The three of us headed for the Reptile House. Inside, the House was almost entirely dark; save for a few lights. The air was heavy with a myriad of sound; hissing, chattering and soft music. We hurried forward to the nearest cage.

Inside the cage was a layer of fine dry red earth. There, among the twigs, leaves and branches, lay an enormous Burmese Python. Its coils upon coils of gleaming dark scales shone beneath the dim light. At the moment, it lay still, obviously asleep despite the three pairs of eyes that were ogling it.

Bear jumped up as far as he could go, trying to see the snake, but obviously not quite making it. Chuckling, I lifted him into my arms, keeping my hands wrapped tightly around his middle. He peered closely at the tank, eyes fixed on the snake in fascination.

“Do you see it?” I whisper. “Look at how big the snake is.”

“Yes. 'Is big.” Bear whispered back. He placed his hands on the glass, leaving messy handprints everywhere. “Why is it sweepen?”

“Well, it’s probably just had something to eat.” Josh said, watching the reptile move slightly, its tail twitching. “They feed em’ very rarely apparently. Like once or twice a year. Or so I’ve read anyway.”

“So what do they eat?”

“Dead mice, fresh chicken, meat.” He shrugged, counting the items off his fingers. “It takes them forever to, like, digest the food which is why they’re only fed a couple of times. You know, unless they get sick. Buddy.” He added, addressing my nephew. “You might wanna take your hands off the tank. The snake might not like it.”

Bear looked at him curiously for a moment before pulling his hands away. He struggled out of my hold, his arms outstretched, fingers pointed in Josh’s direction. Josh chuckled softly before lifting the boy out of my arms.

“Is it hungwy now, Unca Josh?”

“No, I don’t think so, little man. But do you know how they eat if they don’t have hands like we do?”

My adorable nephew shook his head, hanging on to Josh’s every word.

“They squeeze em’ like this.” I watched as Josh ever so slightly tightened his grip around Bear’s middle, making the child giggle in delight. “Then they open their mouths and swallow the food.” He tickled Bear’s tummy.

“Don’t eat me, Unca Josh.”

“Of course I won’t. You’re a good boy.” He set my nephew back on his feet, giving him a pat on the head. “The snake only likes naughty people.”

“Guess you’re included in that category.” I say in an undertone, winking at my best friend. “Scaring the kid, how dare you?”

“What?” Josh grinned innocently. “I’m just making entertainment. Besides, he’s not scared. Are you, buddy?”

“Am not.” Bear replied seriously, brushing his curls away from his face. I took his left hand in mine again.

“See?”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” I stick my tongue out at Josh. “Let’s keep going, shall we? Plenty more snakes to go.”

We ambled leisurely through the House, coming across more reptiles asleep in their tanks. Some were surprisingly alert, yellow eyes trained on the visitors that filed past. Others, like the Burmese Python, lay sleeping, oblivious to the attention.

More than once, we stopped to watch some of the animals, at Bear’s request. He insisted on watching the zookeepers hand-feed yet another snake; a large anaconda, whose jaws were stretched wide open, ready to catch the fresh chicken dangling above it. Catching his eye, one of the keepers called out to us and asked if we wanted to take part.

It was a relatively harmless snake, a four year old female who wasn’t fully grown. I shook my head vigorously, my eyes on the sharp fangs protruding from the snake’s jaws. No way in hell was I going to let my four year old nephew, a baby, feed a fucking snake.

Bear sulked for ten minutes after we walked away from the Anaconda; at which point I transferred him to Josh’s arms. Josh laughed, gave my nephew’s cheek a gentle pinch and bounced him around, hoping to cheer him up. I shook my head, amused.

“Don’t be such a goody goody, Aunt Jen.” Josh teased, patting Bear’s shoulder.

“Oh, so you’d rather I let those guys take him into the tank, dangle a mouse into the anaconda’s mouth?”

“Well, an experience is an experience.”

“Can’t really enjoy it if you get your ass bitten, now can you?”

“Aw, maybe next time, buddy.” He squeezed Bear’s shoulders. “When you’re a bit older, okay?”

“Maybe not even then.” I whisper under my breath, so that only Josh could hear. He only laughed in agreement, clearly enjoying himself.

We moved on to the next exhibit; a set of enclosures that housed the zoo’s mammals. The disgruntled expression on my nephew’s face cleared the very second he spotted an elephant with large, shining white tusks. I rolled my eyes. Kids these days, with their ever changing moods.

Stopping by the elephant enclosure, we watched fascinated, as the elephant, a male from the looks of it, shuffled slowly to the other side, swinging its rubbery grey trunk with reckless abandon. He paused by an enormous water trough to drink.

The elephant slurped noisily and for some reason, decided to spray the water all over himself. Unfortunately, because we stood so close to the fence, we were caught in the explosion of water droplets. Within seconds, we were soaked.

“Oh god. Oh dear god.” I spluttered, wringing out my damp locks. “Come on, man, I just showered!” I narrow my eyes at the elephant, who seemed to find it supremely hilarious. He shook his giant rubbery head, swinging his trunk wildly; as if he was laughing at me. “This isn’t funny!”

“Actually, it is.” Said a voice from my left.

I turned, catching Josh’s eye. He was drenched from head to toe, as well, but unlike me, was grinning. He shook his wet hair vigorously, sending water droplets shooting in every direction. The sight of him standing there made me laugh loudly, finally seeing the humour in the situation.

I took Bear from him, setting the toddler on his feet. Luckily, his Thomas the Tank Engine backpack escaped the worst of the water explosion. I dug through the contents, thankful to find that everything inside was dry. He stood still, giggling as he pointed at the elephant, while I meticulously dried him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Josh peeling the sweater off himself. He was leaner than I remembered; his torso more defined from all those workouts he did to stay fit for the films. His grey t-shirt had soaked all the way through, revealing a set of muscles beneath.

Damn, he looked good. Really good.

Shaking my head, I focused on drying my nephew, who was still engrossed in the elephant enclosure. What the hell was I doing? Checking him out like that. It’s not exactly appropriate. We were best friends, nothing more.

“Okay, well, I don’t think we should be getting changed in public.” Josh said, interrupting my thoughts. “Let’s take a break, maybe find a toilet. Jen, you should probably use the baby room so you can change Bear properly.”

“Right.” I hoist Bear up into my arms, barely paying attention to his protest. “Lead the way.”

We followed him as he navigated his way around the exhibits. On our way to find the bathrooms, we stopped by the zoo’s gift shop. Josh bought two over-sized souvenir shirts and a small one for my nephew. We separated once we found the toilets; with Josh heading for the men’s room.

I did as my best friend suggested, using the baby room to coax Bear into wearing the new shirt. It was a little coarse but otherwise dry, perfect enough so he wouldn’t catch a cold. When he was dry, I changed into my own over-sized shirt. By then, the two of us were both ready.

Josh met us outside, clutching his own backpack. He relieved me of the Thomas bag so I could hold my nephew’s hand. He, too, had worn the zoo shirt. I met his cheerful grin with a smile of my own.

“Nice shirt.” He teased, elbowing me.

“Well, thank you. I always knew you had good taste.” I wink.

“C'mon, Ant Jen.” Bear tugged at my hand impatiently. “Maw animals.”

“Sorry, little buddy. Let’s go.”

For the next several minutes, we walked through the exhibits; coming across zebras, lions, giraffes, bears and monkeys. Bear was delighted. At the giraffe enclosure, the keepers had started feeding the animals, passing them large pieces from a basket of fruits and vegetables.

They invited us to participate, to my nephew’s delight. Whether the keepers recognised Josh and I or not, they gave no sign. We were treated as ordinary visitors; not something to be ogled at. I held my nephew as the senior keeper, a man named Owen, handed him a large carrot.

“Why don’t you feed Patch for me?” He suggested cheerfully.

Bear nodded, his fingers curled tightly around the carrot. I shuffled closer to the gate, where a pair of giraffes were waiting. The larger one, a female, ambled forward, sniffing the carrot with interest. Bear instinctively recoiled, shrinking against my breast.

“It’s okay, buddy.” I say soothingly. “She’s not gonna hurt you. She’s just waiting to eat the carrot. Go on.”

“Here, watch me first.” Josh took the carrot from Bear’s hand, breaking it in half. He held up his own palm to the giraffe, who gazed at it questioningly for a second before lazily scooping up the carrot in its mouth. He laughed, clapping his hands together. Then he turned to the child in my arms with an encouraging grin. “See? No harm, no foul. Give it a go.”

Bear chewed his lip for a moment, before meeting Josh’s gaze with a look of determination. “Okay, Unca Josh.”

We approached the gate as the second giraffe, a young male, ambled forward. I kept my arms wrapped tightly round Bear’s middle as he leaned toward the giraffe, little fingers outstretched. Josh hovered protectively beside us, watching the scene unfold.

There was a moment of silence. The giraffe moved his head in our direction, opening his mouth and tentatively snatching the carrot from Bear’s hand. It seemed as though he was taking great care not to accidentally touch him or bite his fingers.

Surprisingly, the giraffe gently nudged Bear’s hand. My nephew stroked the giraffe’s head, bursting into delighted laughter as the creature’s warm brown eyes swivelled round to meet his. I was dimly aware of a clicking sound nearby. Someone was obviously taking time to document the tender moment between child and beast.

“Aw wow.” Josh lowered his iPhone to ruffle Bear’s golden curls. “You did it, buddy! You fed the giraffe!”

“Yea!” Bear said happily.

“Good job!” I planted a light kiss on his forehead.

so lads its that crying while blow drying my mood tonight and I just sent a long ass text to my sleeping mother asking if she might consider paying for me to get therapy bc I can’t afford it myself and I get a Lot of bad vibes these days. those along the my life is a joke and I’ll die alone for seven reasons line. but like, my parents are just about to do the renovation they’ve wanted to do for like 5 years or more…

heck, I was taken to a therapist in my third year of high school bc of a voice in my head putting my every move and thought down until I was so frazzled I got jumpscared by my own reflection, but I only went one session bc I was scared of costing money. Everyone who spoke to me before I went in told me therapists are daylight robbers (as well as media) and I panicked. so theres also that history to judge by. but I just need help, I need someone to help me bc I can’t shake the idea that my entire worth as a life on this planet is determined by how useful I could be in a marketable sense of value. God knows I’m also an unlovable ace lesbian who is terrified whenever anyone shows more than friendly affection bc that shit ain’t right. No one should love me, theres nothing there of value. It’d end badly for everyone involved. Oh, and also I have no skills or dreams or idea what the heck I’m doing and most days I wake up with intense executive dysfunction that only JUST lets me finish assignments and live above a rotting point because I’m always trying so hard.


Yeah anyway y’all. I’m terrified af. business as usual

anonymous asked:

Moving out prompt: Some kind of scenario where Dick and Talia have to present a united front and co-parent Damian.

Title: Family
Characters: Dick Grayson, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne
A/N: Haha, I hope this is what you meant, Anon. This one got away from me. Set in the scenario where Ra’s wanted to attack/kill Damian to have him as his vessel again. Instead of the rumble-tumble fighting, Talia takes a different approach in attempts to protect her son. Set over, let’s say, eight to ten months.

~~

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

you don't get to guilt comments out of us. we don't owe you anything

honestly, blow me. 

like 99% of the time i try super hard not to stir pots and disturb shit. this fandom is so volatile and so sensitive that a dozen times a day i half reply to something and then decide best not to. but fuck it. i feel really fucking strongly about this.

so blow me, homes.

i’m a fic writer and i work crazy hard on my fic. people can tell you that i agonize over my shit, that i hate writing chaptered fic, that i worry about if my clarke is too much of a snarker, if i’m getting characters and tone right. i give a fuck okay, i give literally all the fucks. i pour hours of my time into writing fic, into betaing other people’s fic every fucking day.

and you mother fuckers swan in here, read this beautifully crafted shit by myself and so many other insanely talented writers in this fandom and you don’t give us shit for it. you are so fucking selfish. it’s so easy to just take and take and take and all we’re asking for is a fucking comment. something made you stop and read the fic, something made you finish it. especially when it’s a fucking chaptered fic and you spend all god damn night reading it or you wait impatiently for it to update. 

so fine, whatever, don’t leave me any comments any more. i bet you didn’t anyway.  we work hard for you and all we ask is that you tell us if you liked it, you say something nice to validate all the time and effort we put into it for you.

and let’s shelve this bullshit “you write for yourself” trash. if i just wrote for myself i wouldn’t post it on the internet and there would be a hot brunette named kayla layla as the meat in that bellarke sandwich. i write for you guys as much as i write for me; i write for us as fandom because fandoms without creative works stagnate and die. i put a lot of fucking time into it and you should take two minutes to say something nice at the end of a one shot or every couple chapters in a long fic. it’s not hard. you liked something. 

step up and be a productive, giving part of this community. 

so look, i don’t always comment either. i get into slumps.  but i should.

So here’s the deal. from now until the end of july i’m going to comment on everything i read. leave ao3 comments, reblog with commentary, send writers an ask. i’m going to tell writers what i am liking about their writing, tell them (politely) what maybe isn’t working so well. i’m going to engage with other writers as a reader actively. you should too. 

Explanation: Today's Twitter Rant and "Not All Hearing People"

Note: eventually, I’ll script out a video for this with cited sources and such.
Last week, my cultural diversity professor informed me, her only Deaf student, that our last movie of the semester would be on Deaf culture. I was ecstatic! I was thinking, “Finally, people will get a peek into my life and see what a beautiful community and culture I have!”
We watched the movie this morning. It didn’t work out that way.
The documentary, titled Sound and Fury, told the story of two families: one Deaf and one hearing. The Deaf family’s eldest child, Heather, age 4.5, was told by her hearing grandmother that if Heather got a cochlear implant (CI), she could talk on the phone and have fun with her hearing friends. Heather got it in her head that a CI was how she could truly be happy and brought this up to her parents, who were bewildered and upset but heard her out. The hearing family (the fathers of these families are brothers) had just brought twins into the world, one of whom, Peter, was profoundly deaf. Peter’s mom is a CODA who said she hated growing up in the Deaf community and being a “weird” kid. This is very similar to some of the comments that would be made by the hearing grandmother throughout the film. Heather and her parents went to an audiologist, who talked up CIs, and then two little girls with CIs: one from a Deaf family and one from a hearing family. The Deaf CI child was happy with her implant, though it didn’t completely “fix” (yikes) her, and she went to a Deaf school; she had the best of both worlds, in her mind. The mainstreamed CI child was a great speaker who was getting along fine in the speech therapy program, but she didn’t sign and her family taught her to hide her hearing loss. Heather and her parents decided not to get the CI. Meanwhile, baby Peter’s parents decided to get a CI for him. The hearing grandparents were happy with Peter’s parents’ decision, but not Heather’s parents’. The hearing grandma (and her hearing son) even repeatedly called her Deaf son abusive for not making Heather get the surgery. The Deaf grandparents were upset at the decision and felt that they were being rejected and thought of as broken.
Peter got the implant. Heather didn’t until the followup/sequel documentary.
The hearing grandma proclaimed that “Deaf culture is dead.”
(Let us set the record straight immediately: if you are d/Deaf/HOH, I do not care what assistive technology you use. CI, hearing aids, nothing, I don’t care. You can be successful with any of these or with none of them!)
For many reasons, this film upset and enraged me. For one thing, it was clearly made with a hearing audience in mind: no option for captions and the camera shifted away from the signers to focus on other things, relying on voiceover acting for viewers to understand. In addition, the proclamation that “Deaf culture is dead.” It’s not. It’s alive and well because we foster and nurture it. But most importantly, it perpetuated the “Angry, Self-Isolating Deaf” stereotype.
I first saw this while my hearing started to go south and I was watching an episode of Cold Case. (I was only watching it for Shoshannah Stern. Heart eyes.) A Deaf family proudly proclaimed that their (deaf) baby was “perfect.” This was met with intense backlash from the hearing protagonists. “A disabled child?? Live a fulfilling life without being ‘fixed’??? IMPOSSIBLE!!!!” Aside from that, the killer ended up being the angry Deaf best friend of the Deaf victim who got a CI and a hearing girlfriend and was happier that way. Deaf Best Friend/Killer was jealous and killed Deaf Victim. And a couple other Deaf characters, if I recall correctly, rejected Deaf Victim’s hearing girlfriend because “Deaf with Deaf and hearing with hearing.” While many of us find comfort in being around people in our own culture, plenty of us still have hearing friends. Hearing culture is, after all, the norm. So, uh, ew at that.
Because of these depictions in fiction, my hearing family developed a stereotyped view of d/Deaf people without ever even having met one. (They pretend my deafness isn’t real.) “They love to isolate themselves in their own little world and lock out everyone else. Why do they hate hearing people?! They should just take speech therapy and get corrective surgeries.” These are sentences and phrases strung together from VARIOUS hearing people. Not just my family.
Once the film wrapped up, a fellow student asked the professor, “But what’s ‘wrong’ with Deaf culture?”
The professor looked at me to answer.
I simcommed, as I usually do, with a choked voice as I answered, “NOTHING is wrong with my culture.”
This is where my anger really started festering.
After reading my reaction form, my professor emailed me to tell me that she “greatly appreciated [me] sharing [my] life experience. It would warm [my] heart to know that although many students sided with the hearing family, a good chunk’s eyes were opened to realise that deaf [sic] people have a rich culture, not just an adaptation to hearing loss. America is a melting pot and we are flawed, but accepting.” I love my CDIH professor, but that statement is problematic for many, many reasons that I’m not going to get into here. But the gist of it: “not all hearing people.”
The same thing happened when I ranted and raved on my Twitter account.
Yeah. I detect the cringing and sighing.
I get it. Not every hearing person I meet is going to be audist and mean. Dude, do you realise that only three of my friends are d/Deaf? All my other friends are hearing and I love them. They meet me halfway and care enough about me to even learn some sign, whether they are attempting fluency or just know a few key phrases. I love them with all my heart.
When I told THEM about this film and why I was quite literally on the verge of frustrated, frightened tears, they wholeheartedly agreed with me. Of their own accord. I did not coerce them. But they have semi-comparable struggles, being from at least one minority group.
My point with my rant was never to say, “I hate all hearing people!” Never did I ever say “all hearing people” anything. My point is that ENOUGH hearing people behave this way that it pisses off and hurts the d/Deaf/HOH community. I had no real intent other than to blow off steam, but if it gets your attention as a hearing person, good! You need to be aware that actions such as these, even if unintentional, can and will hurt people! The stereotypes, the refusal to meet halfway, the “I would kill myself if I were deaf,” the writing of characters when you have done little to no research and/or hired a hearing actor (!), all of that. It is so very detrimental.
My half-black/half-white friend compared it to her struggle of growing up with her white mother in an all-white community: “I tried to blend but it never really worked. Like, I’m still black. I’m still a person of colour. Sometimes I was just like, ‘Damn, I gotta get myself some black friends.’” I think that that is a comparison that more people can try to comprehend a bit easier.
Quite frankly, if you feel the need to shout, “Not ALL hearing people!” when I express the way I have been hurt by hearing people, I’m not interested in having conversation. Odds are I wasn’t ever talking about you, but if the boot fits, lace it up and wear it out on the town. In my experience, jumping to your defences like that typically means you feel some kind of guilt. And I really do not care if you think my anger is unwarranted or that I should be helpful and educational instead of rightfully upset. Do not tone police me.
d/Deaf/HOH people don’t need fixing. We don’t need hearing people to pity us. We don’t need what is forced upon us. We need our language, our culture and peers with whom we can relate.
I am going to recommend some better, more positive documentaries to my professor, whether in response to the email or in person when I see her again later this week. If anyone in the community has any suggestions, please shoot me a message!

Enslaved by a King- [Melamin, My Love]- Thranduil Fanfiction

Thranduil feels the axe slam into his side. The dull pain knocks the breath from his lungs and he staggers against his bookcase. Who dares put an axe to his tree, in his forest? Blind rage is quickly replaced by chilling suspicion.

It is not just any tree that groans under the gouge of the axe. This tree is dear to him. Precious. He had cast the ward over it himself.

There can only be one reason why someone would put an axe to the mother of all oaks in his forest.



Legolas runs breathless to the doorway, clutching his side. “Ada, did you feel that? What is happening?”



Thranduil makes no answer, his mind racing a mile a minute. It can not be.



“Sound the horns,” he said calmly. “I want every Mirkwood elf withdrawn to my halls for protection. I will see to the disturbance myself. Do not, for any reason, come after me.”  





The darkness wields the axe with your trembling hands and hacks at the tree mercilessly. The impact rattles through your frame with each deafening blow. The darkness is swollen and brimming with your misery; your struggle is nothing but a weak whine against the roar of its will.



Death,

it breathes with every shattering blow.

Death upon all.



The gash oozes gold with running sap. Gold, like the glint of firelight against his cobalt eyes, the color of his hair in the morning sun. Such beauty, even in its destruction.




Your king will bleed scarlet, like the berries he is fond of weaving into his crown. He will be just as lovely, with a dagger in his hand and a hole in his chest.



The darkness drops the axe and stretches your fingers into the seeping wound of the tree. You feel something icy in the warm stickiness and pry it out with your fingernails. The moment it comes loose, the tree shudders and creaks. It topples, smashing the trees in its path with an ear-splitting roar. It had been a good, wholesome tree, standing for eons in silent vigilance over its treasure. It had shielded the ring and its innocence from all corruption. Until now.



The ring is small, the emerald sparkling with the flicker of every leaf, every blade of grass of Middle Earth. It is set in mahogany, intricate wooden claws keeping the gem locked in place on carved foliate. It is just as beautiful as the darkness remembers it to be, humming with raw, untainted power. It is still young and unfinished, quivering delicately in its uncertainty of its full potential.



The darkness has waited for so long for this moment. It coos to the ring, whispering its influence like poison seeping into a well. It shares vision of conquest in the name of fire and iron, of total annihilation and the rebirth of a new world. The wood blackens as if burned, and the emerald gleams with a deeper, sinister hue. The ring is corrupted, and anxious to please its new master.



The darkness slips the ring over your finger, and it fits perfectly, as if it were carved just for you. In a sudden surge of power, the darkness envelops you like a shroud, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your heartbeat slows, your eyes roll back. You feel yourself shrink away, sucked into a vortex of thoughts and emotions that are no longer your own. You spiral deeper and deeper, until you are but a shimmering speck lost in neverending night.



Ancient evil rises from the ashes of what you were and takes your place. Gone is the weepy human girl. You are darkness. You are power overwhelming. No longer a shadow fighting for dominion, you are living, breathing force with the power of life and death at your fingertips. You feel the thrum of life about you, the steady beating of hearts and chlorophyll and sap and blood rushing in and out of stems and veins in a million living creatures. The ring feels it too, and draws the vibrancy from all around you and infuses it into your flesh.



The trees shrivel and shriek, their branches straining against your will. Then they are dried, dead husks, their leaves falling in clumps of brown and black. Cold, lifeless creatures of fur and feather litter the barren wasteland at your feet. They stare unseeing at you in silent horror. Everything is quiet and still. You are dripping with power, electricity shimmering downs your limbs.



Today Mirkwood. Tomorrow Lothlórien. Then all of Middle Earth will fall.



“…What have you done?”



You whip around, and are face to face with the King of Mirkwood.



He is beautiful in his disbelief, thick lashes framing wide, wide eyes. A crease is carved between his eyebrows, his lips are thin white lines of anguish. He is shaking, every breath he draws like a dagger to his heart. You recall the sweetness of his lips against yours, the surrounding warmth of his embrace as promises were whispered between you under the witness of a million stars.



Forever, he breathed.



Foolish king. As if such promises could ever be kept.



“I knew you would come,” you giggle. You trail your fingers suggestively down the cracked, withered bark of a nearby tree. It falls rotten under your caress. “You could never bear to be apart from me for long, Melamin.”



He stares at you, his gaze piercing into your soul. His features harden as realization slowly sinks in. He knows just how deeply he has been betrayed, how blind he has been all this time.  There is no how or why. Not when his woods have been laid to waste. His jaw is clenched, his gaze dark with bloodlust. His words are slow, his breath ragged and broken by grief.



“…Did the dragon put you up to this? Or is it that foul creature, Cumber?”



“The dragon and his half soul have long since turned from their One, true Master. They will soon learn to see things my way; I possess what they consider a treasure beyond all the riches of Erebor.“



Thranduil flinches at your words. He is at loss, stripped of his most precious. Despair flickers behind hollow eyes. You have taken everything from him, and you will take much more.



“I have plans, Thranduil. Wondrous, wondrous plans of fire and decay. Surely you will join me in ushering the new Middle Earth, one paved with blood and bone.” You reach out to touch him, and he swings his sword. The blade freezes a hair away from your bare, exposed neck.



“What’s the matter, Melamin?” Your mouth stretches into a huge grin. “You do realize your hesitation will cost you?”



With a flick of your fingers, you hurl him against a tree. He smashes into the trunk with a sickening crack.



“Daro!”



The soldiers of Mirkwood have arrived, their arrows straining against taut bow strings.



“Not another step, human, if you value your life!”



The air crackles with dark electricity as you lift them all in the air with your power, slowly crushing their hearts from within their chests. Their screams feed your bloodlust as their lifeforce tingles up your arms and into your heart. You are wrapped in a haze of ecstasy in their deaths. With every sacrifice, you grow stronger, until you are omnipotent. No blade will cut you now, no ice nor fire will affect your being. The world is a haze of ash and dust. You no longer see the faces of the living, only the bright burn of life in their hearts.



A young elf leaps from the trees with his sword drawn. His heart beats with vengeance and vitality.



“How valiantly you defend your king,” you breathe. “I shall ensure you a swift journey to the Hall of Mandos.” You laugh. With a twist of your wrist, you draw a cloud of dark electricity. You will snuff out that light in his being, and consume it as your own. Before your spell can reach its mark, a brighter, deeper flame jumps in front of the younger elf, taking the brunt of the spell.



Thranduil glares at you with a hatred you did not ever think him capable. Then his eyes roll back, and he falls limp.



“Ada!” The elf screams, shaking his father. The young elf is Legolas. You pause, the need for death resonating within you, pounding with the force of a million drums.



A burst of light crackles through you like lightning. The girl within has re-emerged from the murky depths of the subconscious. She is screaming, clawing at you with renewed fervor. You have never felt such wrath, such determination like the one searing through you. She grabs your wrist and twists at your fingers. You wrench from her grasp, beating her down with your usual taunts and ridicule. Yet this time your words only enrage her more, feeding her disgust and hatred of you and giving force to her will. She snatches the ring from your finger and hurls it, far, far away.



“NO!”



Your power dissipates from you like bees from a beehive, the glow of a million lives you have stripped flowing into the air above you. You must reclaim the ring! You did not get so far only to be thwarted by a pathetic, useless girl you so easily dominated-



Legolas smashes his fist into the side of your head. And all goes dark.





You wake chained in Thranduil’s dungeon, your arms cuffed behind your back. The taste of starlight and vomit burns in your throat. The elves must have tried to force starlight upon you while you were unconscious. You snicker to yourself. As if starlight could drown out the shadows of Dol Guldur. You have no intention of releasing your host. For the briefest of moments, you had tasted victory. None stood in your way of ultimate dominion. Yet swithin a second she snatched your future away from you.



She will pay dearly for what she has done.



The dungeon door swings open. Thranduil enters, leaning heavily against his staff. The elf must have a hide that rivals dragonscale, to survive such a blast from you. You feel the rush of relief from the girl, and you crush it.



He has come to end you for your betrayal, you rasp silently. See how he carries his sword at his waist.



For the longest time, he stares at you without speaking. You can almost feel the shudder of his broken heart. Slowly, he holds out his hand. The charred ring lays in his palm, the emerald gleaming wantonly under the torchlight. You instinctively lunge for it, but your chains jerk you back. He closes his eyes, his expression stricken.  



“You have slaughtered my men. Desecrated my woods. You have made a tomb of my Realm in your lust for power. The Silvan elves demand blood, as does my son.”



“Then give it to them,” you breathe. “Or shall you seem weak and useless in their eyes?”



He slams his fist into the dungeon wall. He grabs your face and brings it close to his. His hands are shaking.



“Is there no shred of remorse? All that we have built together, all that we have nurtured-” He chokes in mid-sentence, unable to contain his sorrow. He searches in vain for answers, yet only cold, familiar darkness stares back.



He releases you, and for the first time since you have known him, you see that he is defeated.



“If you will not dwell in our past, then neither shall I. Your fate is tied to ruin. I will not allow you to drag Mirkwood into further calamity.”



He knocks his staff against the iron bars of the dungeon, and guards appear, holding a familiar gold circlet. It is Smaug’s enchanted collar. The girl within shrinks back, cowering. She cannot return to Erebor. It is a fate crueler than death.



He takes the collar, running his fingers along the hefty metal, tracing the jagged black speech carved into the surface.



Please, the girl within cries. Don’t you see it’s not me? Please don’t make me go back!



For a moment he hesitates, as if he hears the voiceless pleas of the girl. Then he reaches and snaps the collar around you. The weight is staggering, and you shudder at the familiar grip around your neck.



The girl utters a gut-wrenching cry, and is silent. Thranduil has abandoned her. She has been betrayed.



“I want you gone,” he says coldly. Only his eyes betray his violent emotions. “There has never been, nor ever will be a place for you here.”





[posted 4.3.14]

My parents have been together for 25 years. That is so much of a life. You could fill a book with all of those years. They had my brother and me. They saw us both graduate from high school. They saw us off on our first day of college. Between those milestones–drivers’ licenses and packing school lunches and taking me to cheerleading practice and my brother to football and taking us to dances and barbecues and family reunions and Christmases and birthdays and long car rides and falling asleep on my father’s lap and letting my mother meticulously clean the cuts on my legs that I got from falling or playing too hard with my brother. How my parents always told my brother and me that we’re all each other really has. But I never thought that was true. My parents’ love was a lot of what we had. It was like a small sun, and my brother and I orbited around it, always warm. Our parents will be together forever, we always said, and we swore on it. We wore that promise like a shiny badge on our chests.

This morning, my mother knocked softly on my bedroom door. My brother wasn’t home. She told me to come downstairs. It wasn’t until I was sitting in the living room with my mom and dad that I realized she was trying to hold back tears. They said, “This is the hardest conversation we’ve ever had to have with you.” A million scenarios stretched out before me like long, winding roads. Selfishly, I could only think of things that had to do with me. My father started to cry. He never cries. He said, “Your mother and I are separating. We’re more than likely going to get a divorce.” I asked them, twice, “Are you serious?” My heart was blowing up like a balloon. I felt too big for my body. I felt together and separate from my parents. I saw myself in the living room, watching everything, apart from what was happening. I am 23 years old and I felt like a child. I wanted to climb into my father’s lap. I wanted to leave. He kept saying, “I hope I can still be your dad.” They said, “We really tried.” And I believe them. I said, “I get it. Sometimes love just isn’t enough.” Because it’s not. Because I’m 23 and my parents’ love is no longer something I can rely on. I have to take the badge off. The sun of their love becomes the red dwarf, or maybe a black hole. I am an adult. I understand. I am thankful that they were able to stay together this long. I am so very, very lucky. But I don’t know if I believe in promises anymore. They are things that break.

My dad asked me if I had any questions. I didn’t say anything for a minute, and then I told them I was going to take a shower. I sobbed all the way upstairs. I cried, and washed my hair, and cried, and washed my body, and cried, and scrubbed at my face until I felt raw. I put on my clothes for work. I looked at myself in the mirror. I cried some more. The sun was out today. It didn’t rain. The snow is melting. Spring refuses to be kept in a cage. 

Today, my parents, after 21 years of marriage, told me they are getting a divorce. They did not fight. There was no screaming or yelling. It was the most quiet thing. The trees are starting to bloom. I wish I was nine again. I wish I was in our old house. I wish the rain would come. I wish I was at my parents’ wedding again, cake smeared on my face, my dress. I wish I had stayed awake for the entire thing.

The thing that bugged me the most about the latest filler Naruto episode is that from the very second I heard there was going to be a chuunin exams filler, I was sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for amazing moments of Sakura. I had to wait through all the political start-up episodes. I had to wait through the embarrassment that was the first test, where Sakura majority of the time was seen in the background, starring at the wall. I had to wait through the time between exam 1 and 2, where that god awful food fight happened. I had to wait through all the Team Gai episodes. The embarrassing Team 8 episodes that made me wonder why I liked Naruto in the first place. The focus on Ino’s development and filler flashbacks. The build-up episode where we get Taka and the scramble to make Karin’s chains make sense. And finally, finally when it was finally Sakura’s episode to shine, we get half the episode about Naruto for no reason whatsoever, and literally get the last 10 minutes of Sakura beating herself again, finally gathering the courage and chakra to stand on her own, only to throw literally one single punch and be done with it. I mean… what? We’ve seen Sakura throwing that killer punch for a long-ass time now. 

  

I wanted to see her do something we haven’t seen before. I wanted to see her be able to use that brilliant mind of hers and come up with this killer strategy that blows the audience’s mind. I wanted to see her go ape shit like she did in the Sasori fight and literally wreck everyone and their mother. But no. We get the same punch we’ve seen since Shippuden started and that’s it. 

  

I can only blame myself though. I should have known what SP would pull with Sakura. I should have known that they wouldn’t even make an attempt in giving her something we haven’t seen yet, or at least move a bit out of their comfort zone enough to satisfy the audience. It’s my fault. I’m not sure if they’ll cover the next part as well (the ___ vs. ___ fights), but if they do, I’m not even going to bother wishing for them to give Sakura decent treatment. Not going to get my hopes up again.

looking back there were signs from the beginning but it was hard to suss out being i was used to that kind of treatment passing as normal. the more you love you, the less shit you’ll take. and my self love was really lacking.

just in the first month there were several blow ups.
-i cursed in front of his mother and he flipped out in the car, yelling, saying i was disrespectful and i can recall wondering if i was going to have to get out of the car because he kept leaning into my space and his eyes were bulging out of his sockets. i blamed myself and apologized. he ranted on. i thought nothing of it.
-at dinner a week later, i said i didnt need to confess my sins to a priest, he called me arrogant and a bad person for thinking i didnt need the church. i let it slide. everyone argues, right?
-the week after that, we were hanging out with mutual friends. he got it in his head i was only toying with him and decided to give me the cold shoulder all night, for all to see. i apologized for things i never said or did, kept seeking his approval, trying to smooth things over.
-a few days after that, he and a friend were hanging a frame. i was standing back and said it was crooked. his friend said i didnt know what i was talking about. i insisted. he sided with his friend on some “your opinion is stupid, you dont know anything”. i let it go and decided i was wrong. to this day that shit is crooked.
-then we were looking at an art magazine and came across pinups from some lady whos supposed to be one of the best. i found her mediocre and said i could do better. he called me a bigheaded liar. fast forward to now, he says “well, i hadnt seen your work yet but you were right”. somehow not being heard or believed and chastized for the 80th time was normal to me.
-a few months after that, i was on depo and it made me severely depressed. when i told him, he started raging “so im not good enough to make you happy?” and basically guilted and shamed me for how my depression made him feel. i thought to myself, im so pathetic, im lucky he still loves me in my unpleasantness.

every single one of those instances was a window into the future. and a mirror of what i had been raised to endure within my family and everywhere else. it didnt occur to me i was on the abusive unhealthy relationship track. i thought i had it all.