she goes to my church

 Love Of Mine… || A playlist for girls who like girls.

I Will Follow You Into The Dark Jayme Dee // Rude Kina Grannis // Chocolate Lily Ahlberg // There She Goes Sixpence None The Richer // Take Me To Church Neon Jungle // For My Lover Tracy Chapman // Not Going To Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance Kate Nash // Let Her Go Nicole Cross // She Dodie Clark // She’s So High Mia Wray.


my aunt was talking to someone she goes to church with about the bakery that wouldnt bake wedding cakes for gays or whatever and the lady she was talking to was going on about how she shouldnt HAVE to and my aunt says

“karen, would jesus bake the cake”

“…………..[sighs] i guess jesus would bake the cake.”

and you drive me wild

(Read previous chapters here!)

PART ELEVEN: Tell your story (part one)

“It started with a girl,” John said.

“Just like the Trojan War,” Alex mumbled.

John looked at Alex and actually smiled, then shook his head, that beautiful smile still on his lips, as if to say I cannot believe you just said that, you wonderful nerd.

Or at least that’s what Alex hoped John meant by the smile and shake of his head.

“My dad liked her. A lot. I mean for me, not like, himself.” John shuddered. “She goes to my church and is in Teen Bible Study Sundays with me which, yes, is exactly as awful as it sounds.”

“So your dad is trying to choose your girlfriends?” Alex said, kind of shocked. He couldn’t imagine the Washingtons ever doing that to him or Laf. It would be so… invasive.

“Uh, not exactly. He probably wouldn’t care which girl I date.” John paused. “He just, uh, he just wants me to date a girl. Period.”

“Oh,” Alex said softly. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone was fortunate enough to have such supportive and accepting parents.

“Yeah. And, well, last week, we kind of… had a fight.” John sighed and shook his head. “He set me and her up on a date, and when I found out, I was really angry. I mean he didn’t even ask me!” John throw his hands in the air in frustration. “What if I’d had plans or something already?”

Alex nodded along empathetically.

“So I tried to play it off like wow, Dad, she’ll never like me now that you went ahead and set up our first date, like, who wants to date someone who doesn’t even ask the girl out himself? but he just shrugged it off, like, he went through her dad, so it wasn’t weird, but that kind of made it… I can’t even say that made it weirder because the whole thing was so weird.”

“It sounds really… awkward?” Alex offered.

“There is no word in the English language, or possibly any language, that properly describes that situation.”

Alex nodded in agreement, feeling unsure of what to say. This was a new feeling for him, not knowing what to say, and it seemed to happen exclusively around John. Alexander briefly wondered what that meant, though he didn’t have much time to ponder on it.

“So I should’ve just addressed the whole thing right then and there. I should’ve said ‘Listen, Dad. You know it and I know it, but since you’re gonna pretend you don’t know it, then how about I just say it. I’m gay as heck, Dad.”

Alex’s heart fluttered because even when John Laurens was angry he said things like heck and it was the most endearing thing that Alex had ever experienced.

“But I’m getting the sense you didn’t say anything there?”

John let out a slightly-pained sigh. “Ha, no.” He stopped walking and crossed his arms over his chest as if he were suddenly cold. “I really, well…” He took a deep breath and looked Alex in the eye. “I really fucked this one up.”

Alex got the sense John didn’t swear too much, maybe because he had so many younger siblings, or maybe because it was just who he was as a person, so when he used that word… Alex knew it must have been pretty serious.

“So Martha and I were supposed to, uh, go on our date,” John made air quotes and rolled his eyes, “the night of our weekly commercial shoot, like, right after it, basically.”

They had started walking again, and John was making a bunch of angry hand gestures, as if the air had personally offended him.

“And I was keeping it together until right after we’d finished the final take when my dad turned to me with a hecking grin on his face and said ‘Maybe soon your special lady friend can do a commercial with us, just for fun.’ But I knew what he was really saying was we’re gonna show the world you are Not Gay, John, even though we both know you are Hella Gay.”

“Damn,” Alex muttered.

“Yeah,” John said, voice flat. “And that’s when I lost it.”

“I would’ve too. I don’t think anyone could blame you for that,” Alexander said in what he prayed was a comforting and not condescending or annoying tone.

John offered him a small smile, and Alex sighed in relief, figuring he’d done something right. He hoped he kept doing things right because when John smiled at him… Well, he fell apart.

“I guess,” John said, and although he shrugged as if trying to keep the statement nonchalant, Alex could see the glimmer in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “So you won’t judge me too hard for this next part?”

Alex smiled at John. “I think I’ll be disappointed if you don’t do something drastic in that moment.”

John smiled back at Alexander, and Alex’s heart fluttered. He knew in that moment that John had entirely stolen his affections, and there was nothing he could do–– or want to do–– to get them back.

Ugh. I think I’m holding a grudge? I really don’t like this girl who goes to my church. She’s a bad person and active in the church and trusted by many of the older adults. She’s a horrible person and they don’t even know. I’m tired of seeing her and hearing her voice.

anonymous asked:

Can you do a fanfic or head cannon of KBTBB when the mc is getting married with a different man with personal reasons and the guys snatch her away before she goes to the church? (:

Hehe of course! Like my last post, I decided on one character. But if you would like another one don’t feel shy to ask cutie pie! And sorry its on the shorter side. Enjoy!

Don’t Go

MC x Soryu

I told her to go. I couldn’t keep her safe. Living a life, with me, in my world, wasn’t the right choice. I still remember the tears in her eyes as she left my apartment, her bag sluggishly slung onto her shoulder and her hair in a messy bun.

She tried her hardest to plead with me, saying she didn’t mind, but I did. If she got injured, or worse killed, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself.

Although when she was gone I felt hollow, empty. Like she really did just die. She took my only happiness with her as she closed the door.

Days went by and we barely saw each other. It was for the best, because if I did see her I would take her in my arms and I wouldn’t let her go, my worst fear. Although the news the guys gave me on her after a couple months changed my mind completely.

“Her parents are forcing her into a marriage.” Eisuke said, throwing files and photos on my desk office. Shocked, I picked them up to see the man she would be marrying. “Her parents requested the wedding at a church not to far by.” 

I kept staring at the photos. The guy was dragging Khim everywhere and she looked displeased.

“So? It’s her life.” I lied, piling the documents on the corner of my desk.

“Is that so?” He said with a smirk before leaving the office, “I just wanted to give you a little head start is all.” And with that he was gone.

Sighing, I looked over the photos again and again. Khim was so sad, so exhausted in them. I knew this wouldn’t make her happy, but there was nothing I could do.

Days went by with the guys teasing at first, but insisting later on that I stop the wedding, but I couldn’t do that. 

“Sir, you need to get Miss Khim back!” Inui complained for the nth time today. Sighing, I looked up at him to see utter fear on his face. 

“What’s that look for?” I asked.

“Sir, she is going to be married in a hour!” He exclaimed. I felt the wind knocked out of me as I stared at him. Was I about to let her really go? I affirmed in myself I would never love another woman but Khim…

I got up and started running. Running to get her.

I remembered when Eisuke came and told me the church she would be married at which wasn’t far from my office. Running, I knew I had to get her back.

Reaching the church doors I swung them open, revealing Khim halfway down the isle. All eyes were on me as I walked up to her. “Soryu?” She breathed out, shocked.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her to me, lifting her up in my arms and walking out of the church. People were questioning what was going on when the guy came running down the aisle. “H-hey! Where do you think your taking my-”

I drew my gun, not willing to let her go now, after I resolved to keep her. He stopped in his tracks. 

“Listen. Shes always been mine. I’m taking her home.” I said. I felt Khim’s grasp on my jacket grow stronger as she rested her head on my chest. 

Taking her out of the church and to my apartment, I let her down and pulled her in for a kiss, trying to convey all my emotions in it. “I need you. I need you so much it hurts.” I said, resting my forehead against hers. “But I don’t want you getting hurt.”

She locked eyes with me, so full of lust and happiness. “Soryu, I love you. So don’t push me away.” She said wrapping her arms around my back. 


Today a woman came into my work and was asking me if I was deaf (and when I said yes) about where I learned sign language and wanted to know my name and all this stuff. Then after the initial pleasantries she shows me this asl interpretation of the bible on her phone and gave me a copy of it on a Disk and invited me to her asl bible study and gave me her number and everything. She was really nice and not pushy or anything and was deaf herself and talked to me in sign so I wasn’t offended or anything just really uncomfortable.
I’d be way less uncomfortable (people often approach me about attending their church because of my hair color) but she came in when I was in the bathroom and asked one of my coworkers if there was someone deaf or hoh who would like the asl bible and stuff.
Does anyone in the d/Deaf/HOH community know if it’s a common practice for religious people to go from business to business just asking around for other d/Deaf/HOH people? Or is it possible she knew I worked there and had gone out of her way to give me the info and the asl bible? Idk I’m just kind of concerned because now this church she goes to knows my name and where I work and although she herself was very nice I’m not sure how I feel about them wanting to contact me again. Anyone have a similar experience or know anything about this sort of stuff?

The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Said

This is the story of the worst thing I’ve ever said.

It was a joke. Well, it was supposed to be a joke. Immediately relax. What I said was no shade of offensive, it was not racist, sexist, or derogatory towards giraffes.

The worst thing I ever said was such because of timing. It was a bad time for a joke. I shouldn’t have said it. 

Every person I’ve ever told the story to responds the same exact way: they half-smile despite themselves as they rub their forehead and say “Anthony…”

Before I tell you what I said, there are some things you should know.

Mom is an earnest woman of small stature with the resolve of a 25 year old trying to find communal importance through Facebook statuses. She tries her best and relentlessly wants to let you know she is. Sad story short, she was regularly abandoned by her troubled mother and father and didn’t grow up with much genuine parental love. Mom is equal parts tough, sweet, and naive. She also can’t take a joke to save her fucking life. Her devotion to being a good mom and person sometimes makes her gullible or insusceptible to sarcasm. She’s been the perfect audience for my bullshit for 29 years, and not once has she ever suspected she was an audience member, even when she was physically sitting in the audience while I performed on stage. For example, her response to that last sentence would be something like “No! I know when I’m in the audience at a show you are performing at!” Mom sold makeup at Macy’s for about twenty years and she always looks beautiful. With or without product. She goes to church every Sunday and prays for me. My mom is four foot eleven, loves Barry White, and eats cookies with milk in the middle of the night. That’s my mom. Mama Shelly. Michelle Ann Apruzzese.

I think what attracted my mom to my dad was that he was sixteen years her senior and generally knew his way around life. He was both her husband and a father figure in the least creepy way possible, you asshole. Dad was many things: a bookie, a U.S. Army Ranger, a horse racetrack enthusiast, a hairdresser for Carol Burnett, a bartender, a plumber for the Jersey City Board of Education, a baseball player, and for all intents and purposes, the love of my mother’s life, the love of my brother’s life, and the love of my life. Dad was the heart and soul of the Apruzzese’s of Bayonne, New Jersey. He was an accessible, kind, understanding, and incredibly smart man for someone who only graduated elementary school. Above all, he was consistent. He was always there. With every year that passes and the further away from him I become, the more I love him. Dad never sat me down and gave me life lessons but I have an endless well of knowledge I’ve gained from him that will guide me through the rest of my life. Dad wasn’t preachy. His approach to life was the same as the great philosopher Rick Ross: “Don’t talk about it, be about it.” Countless times I saw my him do the right thing, even when doing the right hard thing was hard. I never saw the seams on him, I never knew if he had any doubts. If he felt bad, he never took it out on anyone or even let us feel the pressure of his feelings. I don’t know how he did it. He was also very fucking funny. All of his jokes followed with laughter. Not once did I hear him explain “what he was going for.” For example: my brother, Joe, came back 20 pounds heavier after his first two months away at college. When dad saw him he said “Jesus, Christ, Joe, you put on some weight!” My brother, in an effort to save face, lied and said “what are you talking about? I just lost 10 pounds!” Dad replied, “Where? At a crap game in England, you fat fuck?” Laughs. All the laughs. That’s my dad. Big C. Carmine Romeo Apruzzese.

You might have just thought to yourself, “this is nice but, what the fuck does this have to do with the worst thing he’s ever said? Oh, nice, a box of peach iced tea Snapples!” Relax, I’m getting to it. Open up the box of peach iced tea Snapples, take out each one and throw them in the garbage. Peach iced tea Snapples are terrible. Especially if you don’t realize they’re peach until after you get a mouthful of it’s awfulness. I imagine it’s a similar feeling that heterosexual men have when they pick up what they think is a female prostitute but later, after it’s already too late, find out it is a man in drag. That’s right. I imagine the feeling is the same. I wouldn’t know. Is your palate cleansed from my sincerity yet? Good. Now let’s dive back in.

To get a proper understanding of why what I said was the worst, you needed to know the key players and my relationship to them, which you now do. I’ll never forget the date of the worst thing I’ve ever said. It was September 30th, 2008, the day my dad died. I remember the day incredibly well. I had just graduated college a few months prior and didn’t have a day-job yet. I was still living at home and making pocket money by bartending three nights a week. On that particular sunny day, I woke up around 11 then watched “The Untouchables” starring Kevin Costner, Robert DeNiro, Sean Connery, and a young,  tight Andy Garcia. After that, I went to lunch with my friend Pat (which given how the day transpires, refuses to get lunch with me to this very day) at a place we frequented. A place in Jersey City called, coincidentally, Carmine’s Italian Deli. Ugh. I ate the day’s special for lunch: ravioli parmigiana. This was the first time I had ever heard of/violent consumed ravioli parmigiana. Essentially, it’s a bunch of raviolis, which are pasta-cheese pockets, covered in marinara and, get this, more cheese. After I over-ate, Pat was driving me back home when I got a call from my brother telling me to head to the school my father worked at because something “had happened.” At the time, my brother didn’t know dad had died yet either. As Rob Zombie has said (at least once in his life, I’m sure) “ignorance is bliss, Dragula.”

Second we pulled up to the school, knew something was wrong. There was a police car (key indicator) parked outside. I ran into the school and was cut off by a police officer who asked me who I was and I told him my name. His response was something I’ll never forget. He put his arm around me, lead me inside and said, “Anthony, we’re gonna have a bit of bad news for you.” This, of course, went down as the biggest understatement of 2008, merely edging out a thirteen year old’s science project that year entitled “The Sun is Good.” Once I got in the school, I saw my cousin Vinny (yes, I have a cousin Vinny and YES he is Joe Pesci), who’s a detective in Jersey City and he let me know my father had passed of a heart attack. I was the first of my immediate family to find out. They let me see him. He had died in the supply room in the basement of his job.

Job. My dad died at his job. I can’t type that without crying. When I went into the supply room I saw him laying on the floor. I asked my cousin, the other cop, and some paramedics to leave me alone with him and they abided. I still can’t get over the unfairness of it all. Not for me, but for him. My dad died alone on the unswept floor of an elementary school supply room. No pillow beneath his head, no loved one by his side, he deserved better. He deserved the best because that’s what he was. But man, that’s life. This is how it goes: unexpected and grossly not what we had imagined. Unfair. I approached his body. Rested on him was a generic looking, thick, pale sky blue blanket the had paramedics placed on him. It covered him from his ankles to the clavicle. His left arm lay against his side and his right arm was outstretched, pointing nine o’clock. I try not to think about why his right arm was like that. However, thoughts creep in my head that paint a picture of him struggling hard, reaching for life but coming up empty. It’s hard to imagine him like that because I never saw him struggle in real life. I grabbed his left hand. I could feel the life leaving his body as I promised him, through tears, that I’d try my best. Only he and I really know what that means and only he and I know if I’m keeping that promise. I did him a favor and the world a disservice by shutting his coffee with milk brown eyes for the last time. My dad, the heart of the Apruzzese’s of Bayonne, NJ, had beat for the last time. That’s when my brother arrived and got his bit of bad news. Shortly thereafter, the hardest thing I’ve ever witnessed happened. Mom got there. She knelt beside her dead husband, the father to her children and in some respects her too and wailed. She asked God “why?” and begged my father to come back. The girl whose parents abandoned her was now a woman and abandoned again. After what I’m sure was only twenty seconds but felt like my whole life, I pulled her up from the ground, wiped the tears off of her face, looked her in the eyes and said it.

“Mom, I think you might have to get a second job.”

Needless to say, the attempt to break the tension by joking about how my mom will get by financially now that everyone’s favorite Apruzzese lay dead at the toes of my New Balances fell flat. It, as always, did not register with my mom as a joke and my brother briefly marveled at the consistency in which I never cease to disappoint. I’m not sure if they even remember I said that. It probably got swallowed up in what was most important about the day, the ravioli parmigiana special at Carmine’s Italian Deli.

I have told this story to a few people, but never with this much detail. There’s still much more that I have chosen to omit because it both doesn’t serve the purpose of this essay and because what’s left is mine and his. In writing this, I realized how I had chosen to immediately emulate my dad the second both my mom and brother arrived at the scene. I didn’t cry in front of them that day. The first thing I said when we were all together was a joke. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me, for them.

Or, I’m an asshole.

I wish the years that followed were as retroactively well intentioned. The truth is, I grew cold. I tried to convince myself and everyone around me that my dad’s death didn’t bother me. I distanced myself from my mom and brother. I didn’t have my mom’s courage to love despite having lost badly in the past. Only recently have I tried to bridge the gap between who I became in order to survive and who I believe I am: Carmine’s son. It’s hard and scary to try. But that’s life. 

You can’t give up.

Well, that’s it. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever said. The sentiment came from what I believed was a very good place, like most of the worst things people have ever said.

an update

on my shitty highschool drama, in the tags

Lol okay soo a few days ago my mom took me to warped tour and while we were there me and my friend were waiting over at the unicorn stage to see Pierce the Veil and my mom decided that instead of sitting around for like 8 hours she was going to watch some bands and stuff and she goes to watch Juliet Simms and mY MOM TEXTED ME THIS PICTURE AND WAS ALMOST ALL THE WAY IN FRONT AND TOOK LIKE 20 + PICTURES OF ANDY AND JULIET and so my mom has like a crush on Andy and she now listens to Juliet Simms, BVB, metro station, beartooth, and Never shout Never…