21st Century Kid

teenagefrankzhang

So my dad took away my laptop because I wouldn’t give him the password. I wasn’t even allowed to type it in, he demanded to know the password to my personal computer because he thinks I’m “ doing things I’m not supposed to do. ” My sister is not, and never has been, held to the same standard when it came to passwords on her own phone etc. But my parents always suspect me of being “up to something” and will randomly ask to use my computer/ know the password, and when I say no, they get mad at me. In the past, they have taken away my devices and looked through them, which cased me a lot of anxiety and is part of the reason I don’t like it when people use my computer or go through the camera roll on my phone. Even as I type this, I’m being asked what I’m doing. If you think parents demanding to know the passwords to their child’s personal devices is a breach of privacy please reblog

theactualjensenackles

my parents do the same thing it’s torture

eviltessmacher

As a parent, you don’t get privacy until you are on your own. My house, my rules, my money, my decision.

Don’t like it?

Too bad.

I am the parent here. I’m not your friend. I’m your father.

ichristyg

Literally kids are not your prisoner??? There’s a difference between being protective and being controlling.

Anonymous asked:

please can you write a oneshot where harry forgets y/n’s birthday and is really mean to her and she gets a little upset but she doesn’t show it at all and just gets on with her day as usual because she’s used to people forgetting as her bday is feb 29th so its not usually celebrated but she is a bit deflated because she thought harry would remember and make it super special but then he finally realises and feels guilty so he makes it up to her! thank you :)

btw i wrote this whole one shot before, but then i hit refresh and it all got deleted and so yeah…. :/ here we go again.

He couldn’t have forgotten, right?

I mean, he was your boyfriend and he had promised he wouldn’t forget. Plus, on top of all that, he was Harry Styles, which adds a whole other list of expectations of it’s own.

It was February 29, also known as your birthday. How convenient it is that you were born on a day that only comes around every four years? And you had various conversations – the most recent one occurring on his birthday about the possibilities of your birthday being forgotten. All of which he had answered with a kiss, a smile, and a confident dose of never.

But today was the day.

The day of your birth.

And he was having you cook for him.

“Are you sure you can’t take over?” You ask aloud. You had your eyes and mind set on not letting this omelette in front of you burn. “My hand is getting tired. So is my arm.”

Harry pops up at the doorway of the kitchen and holds up his phone and mouths, “Important call.”

What could be more important than your birthday? You think, then mentally slap yourself for thinking that. World hunger is more important than that, and Harry could be on the phone with UNICEF, for all you know.

But still, how could he forget?

You look away from the pan for a second to check Twitter. Surely there must be some fans tweeting him. And to your surprise, #Y/Nsbday was trending. How could he have missed that?

“Woah, be careful,” Harry comes up behind you and presses a kiss to your neck. He glances briefly at your phone. “Whatcha looking at that you are willing to burn breakfast over?”

“Shit,” you let out as you drop your phone onto the counter and flip the omelette into a large plate waiting.

“Delicious,” he kisses you again before turning around to look for a pair of eating utensils. He doesn’t push the Twitter thing, and you wanted so badly to just tell him it was your big day, but you wanted him to remember on his own.

You try and prompt him, “There was just something trending on Twitter, that’s all.”

“Oh, don’t pay attention to those,” he grabs the plate from your hands. “They are almost always looking for attention.”

“But this one looked important,” you call after him as he leaves the kitchen.

He grins at you, “Unless it’s on a scale from fire-breathing-dragon-alive to cure-to-all-illnesses, I’m not interested.”

But it’s February 29, you whine mentally.

Now you know for sure he doesn’t know it’s your birthday.

He wouldn’t have stolen your breakfast omelette if he knew it was

The day went by frustratingly slow.

You sat at home, alone, replying to your birthday DM’s and texts, whilst browsing Netflix. You couldn’t even go to work, because you had called in earlier this week to say that your boyfriend had big plans.

How could Harry forget?

As if on sync, your phone rings, and it’s Harry.

Could it be?

“Hello?” You answer, sitting up straighter.

“Hey kitten.” Harry sounded apologetic.

Could it be?

Could he have seen the date and realised?

But instead, he said, “Listen, management wants me to stay in later. Something about recording my voice when it’s hoarse. Is that okay? If you have something important, I’ll cancel and–”

“No, nothing important is happening today,” you slump back into your sofa crease. “You can stay to record. I’m fine with that. Have fun.”

Harry sighs, relieved. “You’re the best, did you know that? I love you.”

You have to keep your voice from shaking as you ask, “I just have one question, Haz.”

“What is it?”

You hesitate. The question was just sitting there, at the tip of your tongue. But you still choose to swallow it down. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Chinese would be nice.” You can practically feel him smiling against the phone. “Love you.”

“Yeah,” you murmur absent-mindedly. “Okay.” You hang up before he could say I love you one more time.

Shutting your phone off, you turn back to the television, to another episode of Gossip Girl. Eating your way through another chocolate box, you could see that Serena and Blair’s relationship drama was way worse than yours.

But still, at least neither of them had a rare birthday and a forgetful boyfriend. And, why didn’t you say those three words back? You have said it before, multiple times. But he promised he wouldn’t forget your birthday, and here he is, forgetting.

Sweet and sour pork and a whole two seasons of television later, you were ready for bed.

But you couldn’t fall asleep.

Today was supposed to be your big day.

And you spent the whole day on your own. And still not one call from Harry, making it painfully clear to you that he does not remember at all.

You don’t know how long you have been lying in the dark, but it must’ve been pretty late, as you hear keys jiggling in the front door. You can picture Harry hanging his coat by the door, dropping his bag on the couch, and you can hear him enter the bedroom.

Shutting your eyes, you are quite sure he can’t see your wet cheeks in the dark. You feel him ease softly into the bed with you, stinking heavily of the humid air outside.

“Today is my birthday,” you whisper quietly.

You feel his muscles tense. And then he blurts out, “I’m so sorry, I forgot.”

“I know,” you murmur, tears leaking onto the pillow beneath your head. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” you can feel him rise, and then a second later, the lights snap on. You have no time to wipe your cheeks, and Harry sees your tears immediately. He freezes. “You’re crying.”

“I’m just tired,” you lie, quickly brushing them away. “It’s nothing. You’ll buy me a cake tomorrow.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. He paces at the foot of the bed, “I’m such a fucking idiot. I made you cry on your birthday. Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday? No, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine. Dammit, why didn’t I remember? I swear, I…” His green eyes light up. “I have a present for you.”

You shift uncomfortably, “Harry, you don’t have to–”

“I’m not kidding,” he drags you out of bed. “I have a present for you. I bought it earlier this week. God, how could I have forgotten about it?”

You let him drag you all the way outside, then into his car. He doesn’t seem to notice or care that you are still in your pajamas. “Where at you taking me?” You ask, when he pulls onto the highway. “I’m not dressed for a party, you know.”

“It’s not a party,” Harry grips the steering wheel in one hand, and holds your hand in the other. “I’m so sorry I forgot. I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s–”

“If you say it’s fine one more time, I’m going to feel worse,” Harry snaps. Then he adds, softly, “I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s not fine. I’m a crap boyfriend. And it’s not fine.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, and you watched the streetlights disappear one by one until Harry pulls off of the highway and onto an unfamiliar looking street.

“Where are we?” You ask. It was getting darker by the minute, and you check the dashboard to see that it was well over midnight. Hopefully you both wouldn’t have to walk anywhere in this darkness, or else you both would definitely get mugged.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe,” Harry reassures you, though he checks the rearview mirror multiple times. “Or, we will be safe.” He squeezes your hand tightly. “I promise you’ll like it. I hope you’ll like it.”

Like what?

What would possibly be waiting for you two in the dark?

But at that exact instant, Harry pulls up into the driveway of a big, white house. It’s windows were dark, and there was no sign suggesting that anyone had lived there. It was getting eerier by the second. “Harry–”

He shuts off the engine, turns to you and says, “Close your eyes.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “What?”

“Close your eyes,” he repeats, smiling. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s just, it’s a surprise.”

What surprise could be waiting for you in there?

You cross your arms over your chest, “You said there wasn’t going to be a party. I’m not dressed for that kind of occasion! Plus, I’m really tired and it’s really sketchy here.”

He laughs, “Just close your eyes, I promise everything will be fine.”

Against all odds, you let your eyelids sink to a close. He leads you out of the car, and down a long, rocky trail. You hear the sounds of a key jingle and you hear the sounds of a door opening.

Harry places his hands on your shoulders, and whispers, “Stay right here, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You barely manage a nod before he’s off, footsteps smothered by the soft carpeting underneath your slippers. Who owns this place? And what did he drive you two here for?

You hear something click on, and then light smacks against your closed eyelids. You are tempted to open your eyes, but then Harry’s hands are back on your shoulders, and he faces you towards him. He murmurs, “You can open them now.”

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, and you can see Harry’s face, clear as day. He’s smiling. “Turn around. I just wanted your eyes to adjust to the light, first. Go ahead, the surprise is right behind you.”

And when you turn around, there is nothing there. Just the inside of a beautiful home, the floor in front of you bare. You turn back to him and frown, “What am I supposed to be looking at? What’s your present?”

Harry stands beside you and smiles, pulling you into his arms, “This.” He gestures around you both. “This house. It’s our new home.”

Your jaw drops, and you spin to face him, “Harry, but….but we already have a home! A perfectly nice one! That’s not as expensive as this one looks to be!”

He chuckles, “But that house has no room for our kids.”

“Kids?” You repeat.

Then your eyes bulge out of your head as you watch him sink down onto one knee. He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out the key to this house, and a ring is attached to it. He smiles and says, “I’m so sorry I forgot your birthday. I hope this makes up for it.”

“Shut up, of course it does.”

it’s horrible and rushed asdfusdpf

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