#I taught myself how to manipulate my father at the age of 9

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable  ( Jungkook x Oc ) Chapter 9

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3   Chapter 4 Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Chapter 8 

Chapter 9

“Fuck yeah....” Jungkook’s grip on my thighs tightened, tugging me closer as he slid into me, deeper and i spluttered a bit, spitting water all over him. 

“This is a bad idea. “ i choked, blinking the water out of my eyes as the shower overhead kept pouring a whole deluge on top of us and Jungkook frowned, glancing at me in annoyance. 

“I’m going to  gag you the next time we have sex.” He grunted, pressing me into the tiled wall of the bathroom and I winced when he pulled out fully and rammed back in, clearly pissed. 

I pouted.

“I’m not good with water. “ I whined, eyes still closed because the water, Christ. It dripped into my eyes and all over my body and i couldn’t even enjoy being fucked right now because I was mortally afraid that Jungkook’s hands were going to slip, he was going to drop me on my butt and i was going to break my tailbone.

Jungkook groaned, more frustration than pleasure and gripped my ass harder, holding me up at a better angle and fucking right back into me, slide made easier both from his cum from earlier and the water. 

“Sera, sweetheart...if you could just shut up for a couple of mutes, I’ll be done. And then i swear I will never try to seduce you in the shower again. Ever.” He begged. 

 “  Why can’t you wait till i finish showering? We literally had sex ten minutes ago, why are you so thirsty? ” I glared at him. Or tried to . But I couldn’t .

Because water. 

‘Okay that’s it,” He pulled out, and I hated that sudden emptiness and this was probably going to be a problem, me being used to having him inside me all the time.

He grabbed the back of my knees, prompting me to get down. But my muscles were still a bit too weary he was dripping wet so I slid down a little, panicking. 

 I gripped his shoulders hard, and he laughed, shaking his head at the look on my face. 

“ I won’t drop you, little one. Stop looking petrified.” He chuckled, before carefully unwrapping my thighs from around his waist and lowering me to the floor. 

“You alright?” He brushed the wet hair off my face and I nodded.

“Can we at least kiss in the shower?” 

I laughed. 

“You can kiss me anywhere you want.” i reached out to press my lips against his and pulled back to smile at him, tilting my head as he ran his fingers down my neck, fingers fluttering against my pulse gently. 

“And can I drink from you?” He asked softly and i froze.

The words made me pause. 

“Jungkook...” I whispered, staring at my feet.

 I couldn’t believe he wanted to. 

He knew my secret. Knew that nothing good would come from feeding from me. That my blood in his veins would do nothing but take away his will, and the scent and taste of it all was just a facade. 

That everything about me was a lie. The innocence, the beauty , the delicate build...all a distraction from what I truly was : a dangerous, manipulative being. Someone capable of doing a lot of damage. 

“Please. When I start courting you, I want to be able to feed from you,  angel... It’s how we vampires build our bond. ...”He said gently. 

I laughed without really feeling it. 

“I would never say no to you. You know that....but... you... you know .” I couldn’t finish. 

“What do I know?” He asked gently, running his thumb across my lip. 

“ you know what my blood does to vampires. You know that I can use it against you.”

“But I also know that you  won’t.”  He said simply and I looked up at him.

“I trust you. “ He said simply.  i swallowed.

“Besides, most women would be glad that their husbands are terrified of them.” He chuckled. 

I knew he was joking but I still felt tears sting. 

I couldn’t bear the thought of Jungkook being afraid of me. 

“I won’t ever do it you know. “ I choked out. “ Take away your consent... I’ve never done it on anyone who didn’t deserve it...even with those boys in college , I was just scared that they would attack me again... That they would bite me again and i was bleeding out and I felt so cold...and i was so scared so I just did the first thing I could think of... I never meant to hurt them... I was just so scared and...” I sobbed out and his arms came around me , pulling me into a hug and I felt the tears spill over, soaking his chest as i clung to him.

“Baby...no...please don’t cry...it’s alright.. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have joked about that...I’m sorry Sera....”

“I’m not a monster. “ I whispered. “ Please don’t be scared of me Gukkie... I’d never hurt you or Joowon.... I’m not a monster.. I don’t want to be. I just.. I just wanted to be normal. It’s not my fault I’m the way i am.... ” 

Jungkook pulled back to cup my face between his hands, I bit my lips, another sob building up when I saw how wet his lashes were. 

“Baby look at me...” He smiled, a watery smile , “ I would never think that. I have never for a second considered you as a threat to me or my son.... you’re...”He shook his head, “ Darling, You’re not normal. You’re perfect.” 

“Now you’re just mocking me.” I muttered, looking away. But he made a noise of protest. 

“I’m not joking. You are easily the most generous  person I’ve ever met, Sera... You give so freely of yourself to everyone, whether they are deserving of it or not... You play with the babies , you take Joo Won out on walks and play ball with him, you do things for me even when I push you away and....God,  do you not know how amazing and kind and generous you are???!! “ He kissed me on the lips, hard , before pulling back. 

I stared at him, laughing a little but he wasn’t done.

“ I’ve never seen anyone as selfless as you. . Just the fact that you’ve given me the privilege to be here, hold you like this, tells me how kind and forgiving you are... You gave a bastard like me a chance, even though I did nothing but hurt you, over and over again.... You’re beautiful , So beautiful, my angel..In fact I was going to wait at least till we were out of the shower, but to hell with it.”

I blinked , surprised , when he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before rushing out . I grabbed my own robe, surprised, tying it together before following him out to the bedroom. 

He was fumbling in his closet and I felt my heart drop when I saw the small red box. He opened it easily pulling out a glittering necklace with a pendant and a small vial hanging off it. 

“Is that....?” I couldn’t even say it. 

“My birthstone.  It’s a sapphire. “ He smiled. “ And this vial has my blood. You put this on and anyone who comes near you will know that you’re being courted. By me. “ 

“You ... really? You mean this? You really want this?” I asked , nervous and jittery. 

He hesitated, coming closer and gently pulling my hand up . 

Jungkook placed the necklace on my hand, gently curling my fingers closed.

“Whether you put it on, or not. it’s yours. There’s no one else in this world, I would ever want to give this to.” He smiled softly. 

“How dare you!” I bawled. “ I can’t even take a picture because we’re dressed like this!!” 

He laughed. 

“So, i hope that’s a yes?” 

“Yes, you infuriatingly beautiful, beautifully infuriating bastard....! Put it on me!” 

Still laughing , he plucked the necklace off my hand and moved behind me. I smiled as he locked it in place behind my neck, pressing a small kiss to my skin. 

“Thank you. For giving me the privilege to love you.” He breathed against my skin, wrapping me in a warm hug and i closed my eyes. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. You’re never getting rid of me now.” I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So...I was thinking... .” I began carefully glancing at Jungkook  who stood leaning against the bed post, fiddling with his phone while I ran a brush through my hair  before tying it up into a messy ponytail. He was already  dressed in jeans and a muscle t and I was ogling his nipples through the mirror. Last night, he’d finally let me bite them. 

“Yes, princess?” He smiled indulgently, looking up and running his eyes up and down my body as usual. I loved that. Being with Jungkook had taught me a lot of things about myself. Things I never knew I could enjoy. 

Like dressing up and being looked at . I’d spent a long time hiding in the shadows, wary of who I was, of letting someone see me for what I was. Feeling beautiful was a distant dream because I just didn’t want to be someone dangerous. Didn’t want anyone to look at me and see a monster. 

But standing here, in the comfort of my own room, dressed in a strapless yellow blouse and a flowy white skirt, with his eyes on me, I felt absolutely beautiful. I fixed the necklace around my neck so it shone bright . 

“ its Saturday. Not a lot of kids at the day care center so I don’t have to be there at all... Would the five hundred year old vampire be willing to spend a day indulging the twenty one year old human’s love for cotton candy and tandem bike rides by the river?” 

Jungkook laughed. 

“That’s something Joo Won would come up with. Are the two of you trying to play me again?”

Thwarted, I gave him a pout.

“It’s a beautiful day Jungkook!! Jo o Won loves the river... i took him there with Somi when you you were holed up with my father for two weeks and he had such a good time!! “

“You know...if you’re going to be the parental figure in his life, you need to learn to better resist his puppy dog eyes.” Jungkook said drily. “ Besides, I was hoping it could just be the two of us today. Celebrate  our courtship? “

I frowned. 

“I’m not leaving Joo Won alone... He’ll be bored.” I said firmly.

“Alright...how about you ask him yourself and let him decide?” He suggested with a smile. 

I hesitated , suspicious. 

Alright.

i followed Jungkook downstairs to the huge foyer and  then past the guards to the dining room for breakfast. 

To my surprise, Joo Won sat at the table with my father, both of them dressed in identical outfits. White t shirts, white pants and shoes , digging into toast and eggs. 

“Sera !! Sera!! Grandpa Hwang is taking me fishing!!!” Joo Won seemed to be vibrating out of his skin in excitement and i glanced at Jungkook in shock.

“you planned this.” I protested.

He shrugged.

“It was actually I who suggested it. i intend to get  to know my grandson better.” My father said with a bright smile and I felt the tears sting again as he looked at me, eyes warm and happy. 

“Oh, dad...” I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. 

“You’re glowing my dearest. And what do I smell?” He pulled back, eyes landing on the necklace. “ Ah. Finally plucked up the courage, have you my boy?” 

He gave Jungkook a wink and a grin. 

Jungkook bowed respectfully, smiling. 

“Excellent. Once all this distressing stuff with Tae Kwan is over, we will celebrate your betrothal in a grand manner. For now, let me take my handsome fishing partner and get out of your hair, with the promise to bring you a delicious catch for dinner tonight. Perhaps together? As a family?” My father smiled wide, eyes trained on Jungkook and he went red.

“Yes, sir.”

My father harrumphed.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to be calling me...”

I laughed as Jungkook went redder.

“Sorry.. I.. yes father. We will join you for dinner. “ He smiled a genuine smile and my father beamed at him. 

“Excellent....now sit down and let’s eat.” 

We sat next to my father and I remembered the first time my father had invited Jungkook to sit for breakfast with us. 

“Honey, would you like a drink?” i teased, fluttering my fingers against my neck and Jungkook flushed. My father guffawed heartily, highly amused. 

“Ahh yes... that was the morning i realized my daughter was a complete fool for you, Jungkook ah. “ He chuckled. 

“She told me about herself, father.” Jungkook said softly and my father looked surprised. He gave me a smile .

“It is good be honest with each other. I’m glad she did.” He said softly. “You may be overwhelmed by it, Jungkook ah. We have never seen anything like her. I haven’t encouraged her to pursue it because I’m not sure how it would affect her. Her blood is magic....but she herself isn’t. I don’t want her abilities robbing her of her life, especially because we don’t know the true extent of them.” 

I bit my lips.

‘I won’t use them .” I said softly . 

“You shouldn’t. They take a toll on your mind and I don’t ever want to see you in that condition again.” My father said firmly. 

Jungkook gave me a curious glance but I shook my head. 

“Please don’t worry about me father . I have Jungkook now. He’s going to keep me safe. Even though you no longer have to pay him for it.” I laughed. 

My father chuckled. 

We finished breakfast, with Jungkook and my father talking about business while Joo Won told me all the fishes he could name and how their feeding habit varied. He had a great love for books and his birthday was coming up in a few weeks. I had already bulk ordered a bunch of his favorite authors for him. 

When we were finally done, we walked out to the driveway where two cars stood, one to take me and Jungkook out for the day and a golf cart for my father to drive Joo Won down to the lake. 

“We’ll be home for dinner then.” Jungkook gave my father a hug and my father looked positively ecstatic at the gesture. I knew he had always loved him deeply and as Jungkook moved away to tie Joo Won’s shoe laces, I could help but snuggle up to his side. 

“you knew.” I said gently.

My father hummed, ruffling my hair affectionately. 

“Knew what , my dearest?” 

“That I would fall in love with him. You knew and that’s why you brought her here. You love him deeply and you wanted him by your side. To keep him and Joo Won safe.” 

My father smiled.

“you are perceptive. Yes... I have always regarded Jungkook as my son. i wanted him here where I could protect him. And that’s why i brought him here. And i hoped that you would both grow fond of each other....  But it wasn’t because i knew you would fall in love with him.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. It was because I knew  he  would fall in love with  you.” 

I turned to look up at him and he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

“ I told you dearest. i will never settle for anything but your complete happiness. And I think that is with Jungkook.” His eyes shifted away and I followed his gaze to where Jungkook was kneeling in front of his son, nuzzling his hair and hugging him tight. 

“They are your family now and I am at peace.” He said softly. 

Jungkook and Joo Won straightened and moved towards us, identical grins on their faces.

“He’s all ready .” Jungkook said softly. 

“Excellent. Come then young master Jeon...let’s go see what treasures the water fairy will bring us today....” My father took Joo Won’s hand and Joo Won’s eyes went wide. Giving me one last kiss on my cheek, my father led him away. 

“The water fairy?”

“Why yes, haven’t you heard of her? come... I’ll tell you all about it.” 

I watched the pair of them walk up to the golf cart on the driveway. 

I turned back to Jungkook smiling and holding my hand out.

“Looks like You get to have me all to yourself today, Jungk-”

The gunshot rang out behind me, right as my fingers brushed Jungkook’s. 

Terror as I’d never known flooded my veins as i froze, eyes trained on Jungkook who was already moving. My fingers shook, breath ripped right out of my lung, blood turning to ice in my veins as I turned around. 

The first thing that caught my eye was the commotion across the lawn, guards subduing a man into the ground, a shot gun lying by his side. 

And as my eyes finally saw the golf cart, I saw my father, slumped over the wheel, soaked in scarlet. 

The scream that got torn out of me was feral.

 My throat in agony as I raced to the vehicle. Joo won was on the floor, between my fathers legs and I realized that he had pushed the child down, covering him with his body right before the gunshot had rang out. 

Jungkook pulled his son into his arms but I could only crawl over to my father, gripping his face as he gurgled, blood flowing out of him in a torrent. 

“Daddy!” i whimpered... “ Oh God..no... Please...” I pressed my wrist to his mouth, but he was too weak to move, the shot gun bullet at such close quarters having left too much damage to his body. i saw the carnage, the blood and the mess and I sobbed in disbelief. 

“We need to get him to the clinic...!!” Jungkook’s arms came around me , pulling me away as men crowded my father, lifting him off the seat and onto a stretcher.  

“Se....ra...” My father’s broken voice made my knees buckle and I shoved Jungkook away, rushing to his side as they wheeled him to the nearest car.

“Daddy..I’m here... I’m right here... I’m going to fix this....we’re going to fix this...you’re going to be okay... Hang on... “ i begged and he chuckled weakly another spurt of blood dribbling down his lips.

“Wanted...to walk you...down ...”He closed his eyes, “the aisle...” 

‘I sobbed out in agony, the pain so heavy and all consuming that i felt like i was being torn to shreds on the inside. 

“You are...You are going to daddy...You’re the only one who can...the only one I have... Oh please God...no...” 

“I love you...”Take care of her, Jungkook-ah...”  He said firmly, eyes blazing red as he stared over me and i realized that Jungkook had followed me, was holding me up as he watched my father die. I saw him reach out and grip my father’s hand squeezing tight. 

“They’ll be fine father. All of them. Rest easy...” Jungkook whispered and I felt my heart crack clean in two. 

 I saw my father’s  eyes grow dimmer and felt hope leave my body leaving ice cold grief in its place. . No.. No...

“Dad...” I stopped crying, shock taking over me as i instinctively realized what was happening. 

He was dying. 

My father was dying. 

His hands went up, touching my face gently. 

“My favorite... “ He smiled weakly  and  I watched the light leave his eye forever. He slumped, softly, his hands falling away and I sagged. Jungkook caught me to his body. 

“I’m so sorry angel.” i could feel the damp of his tears as he cried into my neck. 

 I felt the cold in my heart as the bond between my father an I  pulsed and burned , really bright for one split second before fading abruptly, leaving icy cold behind. 

Screams rang out from all around me, from the windows over head and from across the estate. Somewhere I heard my sister’s roar of rage .

 Somi’s screams followed by Jimin’s sobs. 

Everyone had felt it.

Everyone in the clan had felt the death of the Hwang clan’s leader, shot dead on his own lawn by some traitor who had managed to break his way in 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : I’m so sorry. 

feedback is loved. 

Taglist : 

@ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo  @sumzysworld   @carolsummerlove@bunniechoon  @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine    @baekhyunatthehaunted-house @craztextae   @nikkiordonez12

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[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3135

Warnings: none

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

_________________________

Pt 7 - Welcome To The Family

After your dance, you and Five continued to talk and hang out enjoying the slightly staler donuts and the lukewarm pizza. It was not until you looked out the window and saw the stars in the sky that you realized how late it was. As much as you didn't want to leave you knew that you had to go home since you hadn't told your parents you were sleeping over at a friend's house nor did they even know you had left. Reluctantly you said,

"This has been wonderful but I think I need to be getting back home."

"Do you have to?" Five pleaded

"Yes, I don't want my parents to report me missing in the morning" You reply

"Fine, but can I at least escort you back to your house?" Five asks

"Why of course." You reply

Holding your flowers and teddy bear with one arm you grabbed Five's hand with the other. Barely a second after the two of you jumped from his room to yours. You placed the flowers down on your desk and the teddy bear on your bed before turning to Five. Giving him another tight hug you quietly say,

"Thank you for everything Five. You pushing me to the ground was the best thing to ever happen to me."

"And you are the best thing to ever happen to me." He quietly replied

The two of you stood there in the silence not wanting to let go of each other but knowing at some point you had to. Slowly the two of you let go of the embrace. Five gave you a smile before flashing back over to his room. Tired from the events of the day you got into your bed, held your teddy bear tight, and fell asleep to the thoughts of the dance you shared that night.

Once Five had returned back to his room he flopped back on his bed, a wide smile across his face. He was tired but he couldn't sleep because the memory of you calling him mon cherí replayed over and over again in his mind. It wasn't just the words that made him so overwhelmingly happy it was the fact that the words came from you. He didn't understand why or how you were able to overwhelm him so much but one thing he knew is he never wanted you to stop. Five stayed awake for a while just replaying the night in his head but soon enough he had succumbed to his exhaustion and fallen asleep. One thing for sure is that even while he slept he was excited for what the next day would bring.

His siblings had a different plan in mind though. Luther taking on the leadership role woke the rest of his siblings up and brought them to the parlor. Diego and Allison were ready to find out what was going on while Klaus, Ben, and Vanya were more apathetic accomplices. Did they want to know? Of course, but not enough to wake up early on one of the only days they'd probably get to sleep in because their father wasn't around.

"Did you have to get us up so early Luther? This is earlier than our typical schedule." Klaus complains

"Yes. We all need to be present so we can question him. We're stronger together." Luther replies

Klaus lets out a defeated sigh. Luther, Allison, and Diego stood up and waited for Five to wake up and come downstairs. It took a while, so long that the other three had fallen back asleep on one of the couches. When the children heard their brother coming down the stairs though they all got ready to strike. Strike with their questions that is. Diego smacked Klaus' head so that he would wake up.

"Ow!" Klaus exclaims jolting up waking Ben and Vanya in the process

When Five walked into the parlor and saw all of his siblings there he said,

"Morning. Why are you all just sitting down here?"

"Five, why don't you take a seat," Luther says gesturing to a spot on the couch

"Uh, alright." Five replies

He slowly walks over to the open space on the couch and sits down. He looks at his siblings confused and asks,

"What's going on?"

"We just have a few questions for you." Diego replies

"Okay? Go on." Five says

"Well, given recent circumstances..." Allison starts

"We were just wondering..." Luther continues

"What's your girlfriend's name?!" Klaus interjects

"What? (Y/N) isn't my girlfriend." Five retorts

He then realizes what he had just said. He not only admitted your existence but he told them your name.

"Shit!" Five yells jumping up from his seat "None of you better say anything or I'll slit your throats one by one."

"Calm down Five, we're not going to tell anyone," Allison says

"How can I trust that you guys won't hold this over my head as some type of blackmail, huh?" Five retorts

"We're siblings, we wouldn't do that," Vanya adds

"Why are you getting so worked up about this anyway? She's just some girl." Diego asks

"(Y/N) IS NOT JUST SOME GIRL. SHE IS MY BEST FRIEND AND I LOVE HER." Five yells

The room goes silent but the volume of the words Five had just said was louder than anything. Five stood there in a moment of realization. He loved her. He loved (Y/N). The silence hangs in the air for a bit but then is cut by Klaus exclaiming,

"Awwwww our angry little munchkin is in love! How sweet!"

"At least he found someone outside the family," Diego whispers to the three siblings on the couch

The four of them start to chuckle to themselves. Allison then turn to them and asks,

"What are you guys laughing about?"

"Oh, nothing," Klaus replies

"Whatever," Allison says with a shake of her head

"Can we meet her?" Ben asks

Five snaps out of his trance and looks towards Ben. Soon all his siblings were begging to meet you. They wanted to know all about you and see what made their sarcastic grump of a sibling so happy. Their incessant chatter became so overwhelming that Five burst and said,

"Fine! Just stop asking me."

While the rest of his siblings celebrated, Five went to the kitchen to grab his breakfast from Grace and then immediately flashed up to his room. He really wasn't excited to introduce you to the rest of his siblings. Especially after he had just admitted he had feelings for you. What if they embarrassed him? What if they ended up not liking you? What if they told you how he felt and you didn't feel the same and you didn't want to be around him anymore? All these thoughts flew through his head as he chomped down on his breakfast anxiously waiting for your arrival later that day.

His siblings downstairs though were excitedly prepping for you to come over. Not only were they excited to meet the person that their brother was in love with but you would be the first outsider of their own age that they got to meet. They were prepared to ask you so many questions because they wanted to know every little detail about you. They even asked Grace to make snacks for the occasion without mentioning what the occasion was for (although Grace had an idea of what it might be).

As the day went by it became close to the time in which you typically arrived. Five became more and more anxious as the minutes ticked down because he was hesitant to introduce you to the rest of his family. Pacing back and forth he tried to think of a way out of introducing you but it was too late because when he turned to pace in the other direction you were already sitting on his window sill.

"What's wrong?" You asked him

With a deep sigh, he replied,

"I don't know how but my siblings found out about you and they really want to meet you."

"Well then let me meet them." You respond "but let's do it my way."

Five looks at you intrigued. You wave your hand to call him over and then whisper your plan in his ear. Five looks at you with a devilish smirk and nods in agreement. Five heads downstairs with you invisibly trailing behind him. When he enters the parlor he addresses his siblings with a smile saying,

"Well, here she is."

"Where?" Vanya asks

"Right here!" you say as you phase your head through Five's chest

The six other siblings start to scream in panic at what you had done. You phase back out of Five and stand to his side. The two of you fall to the ground and bust out laughing at the fear you had caused his siblings. Five stands up and extends a hand to help you off the ground. Then when the six other Hargreeves siblings calm down and stop screaming you try to introduce yourself but before you can respond Grace and Pogo run into the room.

"Children, what is with all the commotion?" Pogo asks

"Are all of you okay?" Grace questions

The children nod their heads but then turn to you causing Grace and Pogo to look your way.

"Uh hi. I'm (Y/N)." You say nervously

"Oh, you must be Five's new friend!" Grace says cheerfully "The kids have been so excited to meet you! Let me go get the snacks I prepared!"

When Grace exits the room Pogo looks you up and down before saying,

"So you're the child from across the street with unexplained powers."

"Well yes, but uh...I wouldn't quite say they're unexplained." You reply

You avoid the gaze of everyone nervous about how they might react to you. You can feel the intense stares of everyone in the room waiting for you to explain how you can do the things you do. You then feel a familiar hand grab yours. Turning your head Five gives you a reassuring nod. Taking a deep breath you turn your attention back to the crowd in front of you before stating,

"I was born on October 1st, 1989 at 12pm."

Some of the kids' jaws drop while others eyes go wide. You try to calm your nerves as you can feel yourself shaking

"Go on." Pogo requests

"My mother was not pregnant when the day began but yet she had me anyway. Ever since I was a child I've had these unnatural and unexplained abilities." You continue

"What are your abilities?" Ben asks

"Well, simply I can manipulate molecules. Through practice I've taught myself to do some things but since molecules make up everything I know I can probably do more, or at least improve upon what I can already do."

"So what can you do then?" A stern voice comes from the parlor entrance

"Master Hargreeves, I did not expect you to be back so early," Pogo says shocked

The kids look over to see their father standing there. Five grabs your hand tighter and pulls you slightly behind him as if to be a wall in between you and his father.

"Well go on then, if you aren't fooling my family then you will show us these abilities you claim to have."

Fear struck your heart after hearing the stories from Five of how he treated him and his siblings but you knew you were stronger than him. You had powers beyond belief and he did not. Gaining your courage you step forward and look at the old man sternly before stating,

"Oh, it would be my pleasure."

You feel a rush of power and adrenaline course through your veins as you show off what you can do. Turning invisible you make your way over to paperweight lying on a desk. Making yourself visible again you raise the paperweight into the air and turn it into a liquid and then into a gas. Walking forward you phase through everything in your path from chairs, to tables, to statues. When you arrive closer to the other kids you make the paperweight reappear and ask,

"Which one of you is the strongest?"

Luther stands up and steps forward.

"Put your hands out."

Luther does as he's told and once he is ready with his hands out your drop the paperweight that is immensely denser than it typically would be. Just as Five had with the quarter, Luther immediately drops to the ground hard enough that it actually dents the floor.

"I- I can't lift it! It's too heavy! I can't get it off me." He yells

As you continue to make the paperweight denser than it should be you then disappear. Disassembling yourself from in front of the children and reassembling yourself right behind Mr. Hargreeves. You then ask sternly,

"Was my demonstration to your satisfaction, sir?"

Reginald turns around visible shock in his eyes. You did have abilities just like you said and somehow they were more developed than any of his children thus far. You could be a good asset to assist his children in becoming stronger and more developed. Reginald regains his composure and comments,

"Your powers are impressive, although your attitude is not."

"It's not attitude, it's called freedom of expression." You retort "It's something you acquire when your parents actually love you."

Such a sharp tongue for such a small girl. Although Reginald wouldn't show it he was almost impressed. He didn't quite like your ability to stand up to him but the more he saw of you the more he figured he could use you to improve his own children's skills. If they could become efficient in combat with someone who had the ability to control molecules then they would be able to take on anything. The two of you stared each other down before you said,

"I am going to depart earlier than I typically do so you can spend some quality time with your family. I will be back tomorrow though whether you like it or not."

And with that, you were gone. Everyone watched as you left in shock and awe of not only of your abilities but the true power you had of putting Reginald Hargreeves, the cruelest man these kids have ever known, in check. And from that day forward you became a key part of the Hargreeves family even though you weren't their sibling. You brought a different dynamic to the group that they hadn't had before.

To Grace, you were another child to take care of. She adored you in the same way she adored all of the other children in the household. Although you were not there all the time you still mattered a great deal to her and she enjoyed hearing about your time at school or something you did back at your home. She tried to encourage you in the same way she encouraged all the children to do their best and when you struggled she was there to support you.

To Reginald and Pogo, you were a key part of the development of the Umbrella Academy. Each day when you came over you agreed to train with the children on the condition that you and they were able to play and hang out afterward. Reginald despised the lack of structure but he despised not using you as a combat training mechanism more. With you around the kids learned new strategies to take down threats that were unseen and controlled parts of nature that they could not. You also improved upon your abilities by being able to do them naturally and not have to concentrate all the time. You were also able to learn new skills such as self-defense and offensive fighting maneuvers and the ability to use the molecules around you to create things such as fire, water, or smoke. With each practice session, you, Five, and all his siblings grew stronger.

But to the children, you had the greatest impact. You became a comfort to them. First of all, the fact that you were able to get them legitimate free time where they could just play was a miracle and they were forever grateful for that. Second of all, you gave them a connection that they had never experience. You became a friend, one that they greatly needed and never had before. You and Vanya bonded over your love of classical instruments. You played the piano and she played the violin. To her, it was nice to have someone who shared her passion but also someone who saw her as more than just ordinary. You made her feel special and like she was important in a house that had thrown her to the side. For Allison, you were the girl bestie she could never find. The two of you would talk about anything from pop culture to make up to boys. You even snuck her some magazines every once in a while. The two of you looked out for each other, she kept your secrets and you kept hers. To Ben, you were just a nice addition. Compared to all his siblings who were constantly ready for battle and always ready to use their powers you were just normal. He was shy but he felt like he could open up and talk to you and that's all he really needed. As for Klaus you gave him an outlet to get all his energy and need to be entertaining out. You were his perfect audience and he took great comfort in knowing that you accepted him as is more so than his family. To Luther and Diego, you were a fierce opponent in training but more so you made them feel strong. They both felt a strong desire to protect you because you protected them. For Luther, you helped to reassure him that he was a good leader and he was worthy of being Number One. And for Diego, you helped him with his stutter without judgment and listened to the feelings he was keeping inside.

And then there was Five. You were already his best friend and even though you branched out to the rest of the family you always reassured him that he was your number one pick out of the Hargreeves siblings. Every moment with Five was better than the last and each time you were with him you found more and more things to love about him. You didn't know it but Five felt the same about you. Although neither of you saw it everyone else could see how much the two of you meant to each other. In combat, you two would always work together and look out for each other. At the end of the day no matter who you had spent time with earlier you always went back to five and he always went back to you. You were each other's best friend and confidants. Closer than close, you two were inseparable. Every day was spent with each other and your shared upcoming birthday was no exception.

tag list: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @eddiomyspaghettio @lady-celeste25

[kathyprior4200]

Alastor, Autism and an Ace Author

Yesterday, I discovered something mind-blowing about my favorite Hazbin Hotel character. On Twitter, a user by the name of “puppyclown struggle tweets” or “StinkyRatBoy” proposed a theory they had kept for a while. They claim: “Alastor is on the autism spectrum.”

 My first response in my mind? “Nonsense! Alastor is the most extraverted, sociable and manipulative character we’ve seen so far. You can’t just assume he has a neurological disorder out of nowhere! It’s an insult!”

 But then I read their reasons for it…and it slowly clicked into place. As I read them, they began to make sense…it was a reflection of my own personality. Indeed, I am also asexual/aromantic and on the autism spectrum. Whether Vivziepop meant for Alastor to be on the spectrum remains uncertain at the moment.

 What did they say? Here is their first reason:

 “Alastor is often speaking in a very loud voice, something that autistic people do since they have trouble regulating their volume.”

 Reason 2:

“He has little social awareness, telling Charlie to her face that he wants to see people fail and he doesn’t see why that would make her not want to partner with him.”

 Reason 3:

“He also doesn’t see why people constantly run away from him (as shown in the Alastor comic) getting pretty annoyed when people are too sacred to speak with him, despite him knowing of his reputation.”

 Reason 4:

“His discomfort with people touching him probably being a sensory problem, something I myself struggle with, despite not understanding other people’s physical boundaries, constantly dancing with them and pulling them into side hugs without permission.”

 Reason 5:

“Tying back to social problems, he sees Husk as a friend, despite how much Husk wants to make it clear that he doesn’t like being roped into Alastor’s schemes and interests. He reads Husk’s refusal as just him being in a bad mood.”

 Reason 6:

“His hyperfixation with radio, entertainment and old technology being so strong that it causes him to dislike it changing and becoming more modern and foreign to him. Entertainment is his special interest and he doesn’t want someone showing up and making it different.”

 Reason 7:

“Of course, there’s troubles with physical hygiene, something that autistic people are known to have a hard time with for any number of reasons.”

 Reason 8:

“Him constantly smiling could also be his inability to emote the same way neurotypical people around him do, which is why people find it so strange.”

 Reason 9:

“One more thing! Hs little sound effects and song clips he plays are auditory stims. I said what I said.”

 They certainly said it indeed! Despite me having autism as well, myself and the majority of fans didn’t fully pick up on those traits. We knew that the majority of the Hazbin characters were LGBTQ…but so far, there haven’t been any characters with physical or mental disabilities. If what StinkyRatBoy says is true…and if it’s confirmed by Vivziepop herself…it could be revolutionary, both in the show and real life.

 If Alastor has autism, it could add more depth to his backstory and his character. Being a French Creole colored asexual man in the early 1900s wouldn’t be the ideal status to have in the predominantly white straight male society. Many fans speculate that his mother was kind to him and taught him everything he knows about dancing, music, cooking and Voodoo culture. His father is often portrayed by fans as an abusive alcoholic who wanted to shape Alastor into the ideal “macho man,” that was expected at the time. (No “women’s” work, no theater, got to have sex with girls and provide for the family). His abuse toward Alastor and his mother may have laid the groundwork for Alastor’s decent into becoming a serial killer.

 With his expertise with radios, music and entertainment at a young age, it’s no wonder he became such a renowned broadcaster in New Orleans. Along with music being his special interest, it may have been the very thing that kept him sane when he was ruthlessly bullied by his peers, his father, and society in general. It was his escape, a mental state where he felt safe and secure. Entertainment represents the good side of him…the killing part is what got him into Hell. Murdering racist men and criminals may have been both a new special interest and his way of coping with the trauma he faced. In addition, Alastor’s name, means “spirit of vengeance,” thus it was also his way to get revenge on those who wronged him. Alastor’s side hobby of hunting deer and taxidermy may also have been a way to cope.

 Now in Hazbin Hotel, Charlie will have to find a way to redeem Alastor (and like Angel, Husk and Niffty, he can be redeemed, but it will not be easy). Charlie and the others will eventually learn of Alastor’s condition and his asexuality. (Many people on the spectrum also identify as asexual and have trouble with relationships). As demonstrated by the “Day In The Afterlife” comic, Alastor seeks true friendship and belonging, despite his sadistic nature. He has several allies like Mimzy, Rosie, Husk, Niffty and Charlie, yet also misses his mother. Alastor likes seeing others fail as it reminds him of his powerful status…but when he helps the other Hazbins (and betrays them), he may very well learn that he too, is a “lost cause.” More than ever, he wants to see his mother in Heaven…but he’ll have to develop for the better, first. Not to mention villains like Vox and maybe the angels might try to take advantage of his condition. (Does Heaven discriminate against those deemed “abnormal”?)

 Charlie will likely learn of his condition and help him better express his feelings without feeling vulnerable. “You’re never fully dressed without a smile” is a motto he’s lived by in both his lives. His smile is a mask he wears to hide his true feelings of loneliness and leftover trauma. (World War One, the Great Depression, the Spanish Flu, his death etc. is a new level of trauma!) Niffty will likely help out Alastor with his hygiene…even demons need to bathe, eat and sleep. (His yellow teeth, bags under his eyes, thin body and raggedy nails don’t help matters). Husk will teach Alastor about personal space…and hopefully, Alastor will free Husk and Niffty from working under him in the future. And Charlie of course, will help him get in touch with his feelings, creating a relationship of friendship, mentoring, and hints of romance.  

 Embracing change and expressing feelings is very hard for those on the spectrum…but with therapy, effort and practice, it can be achieved by many. It will take a long time for Alastor to redeem himself, let alone allow himself to cry or fall in love. But the journey, rather than the Heaven destination, is what matters most. After overcoming his evil nature, Alastor will learn to embrace his feelings and condition…even if it means adapting to a moderate amount of change. (There are other ways to seek out justice and entertainment.) I bet his mother will be very proud of him once Alastor is able to make friends and truly be happy.

 Proper representation in media, matters, and Vivziepop has already gone above and beyond. A majority of her characters are LGBTQ or are in LGBTQ relationships. Representing someone with a disability will make the show all the more intriguing, and the characters more relatable. Her show deals with a variety of issues that young adults face in real life: sex, drugs, slavery, rebellion etc. With Alastor supposedly being both LGBTQ + and having a neurological disorder, it is a portrayal not often seen in many cartoons.

 Hopefully in a few years, we’ll get to see more of our deerly beloved radio host in the first season of Hazbin Hotel; we wish him all the best on his journey of redemption and friendship formations!

[bcrtonarrcws]

Meta: Claire's relationship with Barney

              HELLO, HI, YOU HAVE JUST UNLOCKED AN ESSAY THAT IS PROBABLY JUST A LITTLE TOO LONG, if I do say so myself and given that I wrote it, I would say you should listen.

 Anyway, the Bartons are actually my favorite comic siblings to ever exist – probably actually my two favorite comic characters ever ever. Their relationship is so dysfunctional and a little broken, yet held together by shitty guardians and a rough childhood. It’s kinda beautiful, how after everything that happened to each other, they’re still close?? Like they trust each other, tease each other, they have each other’s back?? The relationship between Clint and Barney is truly one of my favorite representations of a pair of siblings who didn’t have the easiest life, mainly because, like without the superhero nonsense, their relationship is actually very similar to my own relationship with my siblings – a severely messed up ride or die that might end with one of us killing each other.

Yet, this question is what does Barney’s and Claire’s relationship look like, not Barney’s and Clint, which despite how little it would change, does change some things. To figure out what it changes though, I’d like to head to what their relationship is like, in canon, for me. I know that the fandom has it’s own view of Barney Barton – I don’t agree with it nor particularly like it, so it’s probably best if I explain how I look at their relationship.

So Barney Barton, born Charles Bernard Barton, is the eldest of the two – no ages because this is the comics and characters can’t have canon ages ?? I guess it’ll break the suspension of disbelief but like shrugs – and he showed up in the comics in 1969, before this, he never existed. Of course this is during the age of the 60’s so most superheros didn’t really like have a life outside of the comics they were in so it’s not that big of a deal, but like still, Marvel just creates this character to be Clint’s brother, tells us he’s a racketeer that’s been on the Avenger’s radar for a while, and then kills him in the same issue, only revealing at the end that he was an undercover FBI agent.

(yeah, they gave Clint a family and then killed said family right away, sounds so similar, y’know kinda like the movie-verse which gave clint a family with very little characterization and then snapped them – no wonder I love Laura so much)

Anyway, later issues of Clint’s will explain that their parents were abusive, they died and Clint and Barney ran away from the orphanage they were in when they were like teenagers – this would be retconned to young teenagers, then implied to be younger as of the Hawkeye (2012) series, which puts Clint sleeping under the tents at age 9 (src), which could or could not imply them being their already - it’s whatever, like it’s just gonna get retconned again. Running away to the circus always puts strain on their relationship no matter what age they are though, mainly due to Clint receiving training from their mutual “father figure” Jacques DuQuesne and Barney becoming jealous; a completely and natural thing according to all child psych I’ve read, it creates an environment that allows one kid to be the “golden child” and the other to be the “scapegoat” – now of course, we don’t know much about the dynamics of their full childhood, Marvel hates sharing any information like that, but we can extrapolate a fair amount.

(also, just so everyone knows, this jealousy did not pave the way for their relationship in later comics, namely Blindspot. In that it’s very clearly stated that Barney was found by Egghead to still be slightly alive. He was then held onto, for nefarious reasons, in a healing chamber, until he was found by Baron Zemo years later who then manipulated Barney against his brother so that Baron Zemo could get his revenge against Clint Barton. I’ll say it again, Barney was used against his own brother by an evil guy who hated Clint because Clint slept with Zemo’s wife; that is where the “Cain and Abel” dynamic comes from – not childhood)

Back on the tangentially related topic I was writing about. This jealousy grows until Jacques DuQuesne leaves after Clint finds out about his illegal dealings ( though the all new hawkeye actually kinda, maybe, a little, I’m unsure, retcons this with Clint finding out about it much earlier, when he finds out about Jacques having Barney stealing from people and places and finds the hidden cache of a gun, money and some other things under Jacques’ bed??? I don’t know, I’m now a little confused if Jacques still fucks off thanks to that comic ) - of course, this is after Jacques chases Clint through the circus, cutting the high wire Clint tried to hide on. Barney tells Clint, while his brother is in the hospital (and in literally a comic that got retconned basically) that he should’ve kept his mouth shut and stuck by Jacques no matter what (can we say that that sounds like trauma?? because guess what, psych 101 says that that’s kinda sounding like trauma since Jacques was trash to these kids, like literally, fuck Jacques DuQuesne – all my friends hate him – he’s an interesting villain but fuck the whitewashing of his bullshit).

This doesn’t sour their relationship at all – no seriously, it doesn’t which uh shows that neither of them really take each other at face value anymore – and they go back to the circus, Clint heals up, starts working with Buck (a man currently being written out of the comics world which is a shame because he’s kinda important but kinda not) and then Barney decides he wants out. With Barney in the army, Clint continues down the crime street and well, now that we’ve got a bit of background (over 800 words of background), let’s get onto what their relationship is really like for Claire and Barney.

Simply put, like in the comic relationship with Clint and Barney, Barney is a protective older brother, he taught Claire how to fight and aim, how to patch up simple bruises and cuts, taught her to drink her first shot (at like age fourteen, but like what do you expect when that boy was drinking much younger???). He was her first teacher, her best teacher – yes their relationship got complicated; it’s Claire when isn’t her relationships complicated – but at the end of the day, he helped shape her into who she was.

Less simply put…

He is her everything—in all the P L A T O N I C (I’m emphasizing platonic because please don’t take this in the romantic sense, they’re fucked up but not like that; I am not Marvel, I don’t ship siblings and pretend that shit is fine.) sense of the word—he was her guardian when all the guardians around her failed to properly take care of her; he was her brother who teased her and made fun of her; he was her best friend who understood what she went through, the only other person who did; he taught her as much schooling as she would sit down and listen to, he taught her how to cook herself some basic food.

He was a father, a mother, a brother, a best friend, a moral compass – which is why when he went off to the Army, Claire found it a betrayal. She hated him for the time that he was gone, though she forgave him not long before she first shot him because she could understand that to him  (the little purple box in the third panel: Carnival of Death, of course this is how Barney would remember things) the circus was never a home, just another temporary place to stay. 

(btw this is “shooting barney” thing that is part of my main verse, is canon. Clint shot his brother, who was working undercover as a bodyguard, while Clint was breaking into a mansion with the aforementioned soon-to-be-retconned-I’m-sure-of-it Buck Chisholm, which led to Buck shooting Clint in the shoulder when he refused to leave his brother’s body and pinning him to a tree – I don’t quite recall how Clint got out of getting arrested, I’m pretty sure it never explained, but I’m rusty and not really up for pulling out some old comics to read up on) 

(I lied, here’s the comic strip: 1. 2. Clint “somehow” managed to get free, take his brother to the hospital and then leave??? yeah sure. )

Anyway, let’s get on with it. So if that was their relationship when they were younger, what is it like now?? Now that Claire has found a place – a sturdy, yet unsteady, comfortable, yet spartan, to call her own –

( and yes, this sounds angsty, but Clint has issues accepting that he is where he wants to be – Clint is always running, even when standing completely still. It’s a trauma response to his shitty childhood where they never stayed in one place for too long; even when their parents were alive, they moved from above the family butcher shop to the Barton farm. Barney had it too, but apparently a relationship helped with that (and okay, look I love Simone and Barney, but that part in All New Hawkeye rubbed me wrong as a fellow wandering child turned rootless adult; the guy needs therapy, not just a relationship – but then again, Barney Barton does not get agency or a personality outside of Clint Barton; his life must revolve around Clint Barton, even when he was on the Dark Avengers, it was about Clint – and yeah, they’re brothers, “two sides of the same coin”, and all that jazz but like I’ve got three sisters and a brother, I’m my own person at the end of the day – something Barney Barton cannot say, which means ending his story on the note of retirement and falling in love is just the best thing so they don’t have to keep finding a reason to try to remember that Clint has a brother   I’ll stop with the rant, I’m sorry.) )

   where does a man who no longer has to be a father, mother, brother, best friend, and moral compass stand when his sister has all that? Well, for the most part, he stands next to her – in my main verse at least. After he has come back wrong (Buffy much?), he finds his place standing beside his sister, no longer solely protecting her from the world (as he had always done because the world is not kind to lost little girls or boys), because he’s learned that she can, for the most part, protect herself, and Claire finds herself less on a lower standing (less of a burden in her eyes, less of a child in need of comfort) with her brother, but more like an equal, something that’s a bit of a new situation for the both of them.

In truth, Claire’s relationship with Barney is complicated and messy but it’s hers, and when you have something that’s complicated and messy, you have to figure it out, and that’s what, in my canon, she’s doing. Sure Barney isn’t around a lot - he’s got his own shit to figure out - but he’s her brother, and she loves him, and he loves her and they’re trying to get to a place where they don’t accidentally poke the trauma they’ve got and ruin a good thing. 

......

Okay, so like did any of this make sense??? I don’t know. I guess, to sum it up really quick, in my main verse - and most of my canon - I’d say Claire’s relationship with Barney is slightly yet not really awkward – it’s awkward because once upon a time, it was simple. Yet at the same time, it’s a really important relationship because Claire was shaped by her brother (and of course all those shitty adults because there are no good mentors in the Marvel world, not for kids at least).

Idk, this is really just me rambling. Like I should just state that tis is just Mun taking all the retcons that Marvel stuck her babies through and trying to make sense of them along with a healthy dose of a smattering of psychology shoved all about because unlike Marvel, I have no desire to ignore the C-PTSD/PTSD that seems to follow both boys around thanks to their childhood – of course this crazy amount of words actually kinda ignores all the trauma they have as adults, but that’s a whole nother post for some other day

I also know that I carry some ~controversial ~ barney barton views - ie. he’s not a villain and that him and clint share a close relationship, that he isn’t dumb muscle (bitch got a 1350 SAT score with like minimal schooling, i’d like to see you do that) and that he wasn’t a shit older brother when they were kids - i’m not apologizing for them. not at all. i will never apologize for them. characters are more than one dimensional and if i gotta be the one to wade through all this vague ass bullshit to get those other two dimensions then i’m going to do just that, which i have done. 

plus it doesn’t even matter because through all the retcons clint and barney has gone through, this is what their relationship is; a fucked up dysfunctional sibling relationship gone off the rails when Barney was brought back from the dead and manipulated/brainwashed into hating his brother. it eventually got better, how? we’ve got none of that, but it did and and at the end of the day, as clint said:

[hanawrites404]

7 8 and 9 please ! Thanks a lot 😊

7. What colour do they burn?

Well, I cannot only say only one colour. My personality as Sahana says is pretty.... complicated....and unpredictable. So according to me, it shall not be only one colour, but a mixture of colours. Maybe a rainbow I guess............And no, I am not a homosexual. I am sorry. Women are like sisters to me.

8. A defining moment that irreversibly hardened them.

Well, I have discussed about this in the second question of that previous ask. You can check that out.

And to be honest, even though Lucio has returned and everything is back to normal.....I don't think I can ever be able to become what I previously was. What was gone has already been vanished.....even after being with my loved ones I don't think it will ever come back.......

H-Hey, don't worry about me. I am fine, I promise. I still laugh and smile and actually enjoy myself, it's just that I won't be cheerful and carefree as I was when I was a teenager. I have many responsibilities so I need to harden up, so don't worry about me. And if you still do.......

*Gives you an ice dagger* Take this and kill me. If I do not exist, neither do your worries about me.

"WINNIE NO-"

9. What was a moment in their childhood or adolescence that changed how they physically or mentally perceived themselves?

It was when I got sick at the age of 7. Dad took me to a doctor to babysit me till I got better.

The doctor was good to me at first but then after some days, he had started to touch me.....down there.

I was a little kid, I did not know about things like sexual assault, but I couldn't ignore the uncomfortable feeling down my stomach when he touched me like that, and I was also sure that what he was doing to me was not for some 'mere research' as he used to call it.

However, this was just the start. The snap that took place was when he.......raped me.

Yes. A middle-aged man raping a 7-year old like me. Disturbing, isn't it? But when I grew up, that memory didn't really bother me. I had like, moved on with it.

*Mumbles* Due to a certain redhead doctor...........

Infact, it affected my father the most. Ever since that day, he had started disrespecting every doctor or medical practitioners till their death. If he sees even one physician, you would find them lying somewhere in the corner, beaten up badly.

Julian had a tough time with Dad since he was a doctor himself. Dad did not left any chance to insult and bully him. He would always give him a death glare which sent sent such shivers down Julian's spine that you can literally see him shaking from fear.

But that's a topic for some next time. Let's come on to what that incident actually changed in me.

When he was raping me I was crying. No.....infact, I was weeping loudly. I didn't know what was going on and what the hell was getting inserted in me, it was all like blurs.

But then I noticed that my hands were on fire, but it was not burning me. They were blue in colour and it looked beautiful, and I noticed that they moved according to how I wanted it to. And that's when I realised that I was not really a normal village girl.

I shot the fire on the doctor and he got burnt alive, just like how I wanted. It was.... actually very satisfying to watch him burn, but that satisfaction didn't last long when I found out that I was bleeding rapidly down there and it was hurting like hell.

I escaped from the clinic and ran to find Dad. I was crying the whole time while desperately trying to find my father, and after like 10 minutes of searching here and there while leaving drops of blood on the way, I found him and hugged him tight.

After that incident, we moved to Kathmandu, where I told Dad about the fire, and so he had started to train me on this.

Later on, I discovered that I can manipulate water too when Dad threw me in the lake......literally, even though he knew that I didn't know how to swim. And so I discovered ice, blood and even air.

Dad even taught me how to fight with blades. Let it be swords, shurikans, scythes, you name it. And I can make them whenever I want due to my ice power and even charge it up with fire due to my pyrokinesis.

As I grew up, I kept perfecting my powers. And as I went back to Vesuvia, Asra too taught me some magic, like how to shapeshift into people or how to heal wounds. Pretty much some basic stuff 乁[ᓀ˵▾˵ᓂ]ㄏ

Hopefully this answer is to your satisfaction. Sahana might put a new list after this so do ask me, I would love to open up to people a bit and rant till my heart is content. Thank you so much.

[thinkyoureholy]

Opposites Attract [1]

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Pairing : Park Jimin / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Enemies to Lovers!AU, Fantasy!AU

Words : 1.8k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

-16 Years Ago; Y/N’s P.O.V-

I stared in awe as I watched the boy create fire out of thin air. It was the first time I had seen anyone create anything other than water. Everyone here in the Poseidon faction could create and manipulate water, my father could even freeze it but I wasn’t allowed to talk about that. The boy did some fancy moves with his hands before outstretching his right arm, fire shooting out of it. Without thinking I applauded and cheered for him loudly, drawing his attention over to where I was. From where I was sitting I could see a blush rise to his cheeks, his eyes on the ground in front of him in embarrassment.

“That was so cool!” I exclaimed, running over to him and jumping up and down in front of him giddily.

“When you went like whoosh and stretched out your hand and the fire just went like boom before shooting out like ssshhh!” I all but yelled, mimicking his moves from before and adding sound effects.

The more I talked the more I saw him loosening up until a huge grin spread across his face, a giggle slipping passed his lips. I grinned at hearing the giggle, pausing my rambling for a second.

“What you do is so much cooler than what my people can do.” I said with a pout, staring down at my hands.

“What faction are you from?” He asked with a tilt of his head, curiosity swimming in his eyes.

I didn’t say anything, deciding to just show him. I waved a finger in the form of an ‘s', opening my palm, having it face upwards as the water formed at my command. He stared with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape.

“Woah...you’re from Poseidon?!” He asked, poking at the ball of water I had made, fascinated that it held its shape.

Before I could get another word out I heard my brother calling out to me. I groaned before turning to face him, “Coming!”

I turned back to face the boy again, a frown now on my face, “I have to go...I’ll see you later…”

I turned to run over to my brother after that but stopped midway, turning on my heel and running back to the boy, man was I doing a lot of turning. He raised his eyebrows, curious as to why I came back, his brows shooting up higher when I stuck out my hand to him. My father always taught me to extend a hand for the other person to shake when introducing myself, said it left a good impression...or something like that.

“I’m Y/N by the way.” I said with a grin, that grin growing wider when he shook my hand.

“I’m Jimin.”

-8 Years Ago-

“Park Jimin your ass is grass! Get the hell over here!” I yelled, shaking off the water from my sleeves before running after him.

I had been practicing gathering as much water as I could in one go. I had gotten it to be as big as a kiddie pool when the grass a few feet in front of me had suddenly caught on fire. I had been so preoccupied with focusing all my energy into keeping the water as uniform as possible. Suddenly having the grass catch on fire had a small yelp leave my lips, my concentration broken. All the water that I had collected came raining down on top of my head, soaking me from head to toe. Jimin had doubled over in hysterics, clutching onto his stomach as he tried but didn’t succeed in controlling his fits of laughter. When he hadn’t heard another peep out of me after seeing me get drenched he finally looked up at me, his eyes wide as he noticed how angry I was.

As soon as I started yelling at him he began running. I let out a groan, running after him but he was too fast so I gathered as much water as I could as I ran. I had just enough to make a makeshift rope out of it, stretching my arm out towards him. The rope of water latched onto his ankle and with a tug he came tumbling down. Before he could get up I straddled his waist, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them above his head. With my other hand I made a small ball of water before letting it fall onto his face.

“Not so funny now is it?” I asked, a smug grin on my face.

He glared up at me, his hair slicked back by the water. The longer I stared down at his face the more I felt myself getting hypnotized by his eyes. It had been eight years since I met Jimin when we were both seven now at the age of fifteen we had both changed significantly but I hadn’t really noticed until now. The baby fat he had was still there on his cheeks but it wasn’t so much compared to when he was seven. His jaw had started to look a little more chiseled as well but then again he still had that boyish look to him. What had changed the most were those eyes of his. Just before I got sucked in I snapped myself out of it, shaking my head. I got off of him, not noticing the slight blush on his cheek. Grumbling to myself I threw more water at him, now drenching his entire body.

“Hey!”

“Now this, this is hilarious.” I said with a grin, leaning back on one hand while the other pointed at him.

He glared over at me, the water that coated his skin turning to steam as he rose his body temperature. I glared at him, knowing he wasn’t even going to offer to dry me off. He smirked, his clothes already halfway done drying. With a roll of my eyes I waved my hand in front of my body, sucking out all the moisture from my clothes, leaving my hair wet. Looking at the water I had collected from my clothes I smirk, throwing it in his face once more before getting to my feet and running off.

“See I’m telling you it’s comedy gold! Someone should pay me to be a comedian! I’d make millions!” I yelled over my shoulder, running away as fast as I could.

I caught a glimpse of him, seeing that he was still sitting on the ground but he had a smile on his face instead of the frown I expected. With a grin of my own I turned to face him, waving my hand high above my head.

“Bye for now Jimin! I’ve gotta go meet up with my father, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” I asked, hopeful.

The grin on my face grew at seeing him nod, waving back at me.

[Later that same year]

“Father! Father!” I yelled out, putting the fighting techniques he and Levi had taught me to use.

I looked over to where he was, frantically trying to reach him. I could see him struggling against the man he was fighting. The Hephaestus faction had been fighting for the right to rule since the Zeus faction ruled a hundred years ago. Seventy years ago the crown had been passed to the Gaia faction, forty years ago it was passed to the Zephyrus faction, and ten years ago it was passed onto the Poseidon faction, the Hephaestus faction never being allowed to rule due to their past. Since my father was our leader it only made sense that he was the one they were targeting.

Levi and my mother had begged me to stay away and hide but knowing that all three of them were going to fight I couldn’t just stay and do nothing so I lied to them. I told them I’d stay behind but snuck away the moment they were out of sight. I had to be with my family through this fight, I just had to. When I had arrived the fighting was going on full force. It took a few seconds for my brain to kick in but when it did it was all muscle memory. Everything Levi and my father had taught me was being used to its full potential. I knew it was just a matter of time before any of them noticed me but I didn’t care, I wasn’t going to run away.

What I didn’t expect to see was my father fighting against a man I did not know from Hephaestus. The state my father was in had a lump forming in my throat. Half of his shirt was totally burned off, the burn marks very visible even from where I was standing. Knocking the woman I was fighting off her feet I ran to my father, the panic spreading across my entire body. I could see how fatigued he was, his legs shaking as they had difficulty keeping him upright. Before I could even get close to him I felt an arm block my path, the hand connecting to said arm grabbing a tight hold of my shoulder. I looked up to see that the arm belonged to Levi, his eyes glaring into my own. Before he could scold me I yelled out for my father once more, having seen him falling to his knees from exhaustion. The tears were streaming down my face as I watched the man he had been fighting creating a huge ball of fire, the flames were so uncontrollable that they slapped the ground a feet few from where we were. The heat was unbearable. The man raised his arm high above his head, my mother’s screaming being heard somewhere to my right. And like what he did to me Levi reached out to grab her, stopping her from going any further. The both of us fought against his hold, trying desperately to reach and save my father.

“Woosung!”

“Father!”

Within the next second the man had flung the fire at my father. Before I could see the fire engulf his body Levi brought me into his chest. I screamed and cried out for my father, hearing my mother do the same. The only thing that let me know Levi was even effected was the shaking of his body. I clung onto my brother, sobbing into his chest. I knew...I knew there was no way my father would have survived that as defenseless as he was in that last moment. I could hear my mother yelling at Levi to let her go, the desperation in her voice clear.

“No! I’m not losing you too...I’m not losing anymore of my family today!” He yelled, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his cheeks.

I let out another sob, closing my fist around the fabric of his shirt as I buried my face into his chest.

-

It wasn’t until years later that I learned that the boy I had befriended out on that field was the son of the very man that killed my father.

[kitsune-kirei]

Neverending Survey: Kirei Meztli

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs! (Or as many as you’d like)

Tagged by: @lightofthecrystal, @elegie-de-sang, @ataki-yuuto, and @lillies-n-lilacs, thank you for tagging me​, It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these!

Tagging: @gaillaffxiv, @infiniteleftdoesffxiv, @sparrow-ffxiv, @fensa-valehart, @mai-takeda, @seina-kurokiba, @gaggle-of-dorks-ffxiv, @jorandalkitor, @thesinsofgreed

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Kirei Meztli ( @kitsune-kirei )

NICKNAME:  Kitsune, Kitsu, Rei, The Firefox.

AGE:  Unknown, looks in her 20′s or 30′s. 

BIRTHDAY: Unknown.

ETHNIC GROUP: Half Hyur, Half Doman .

NATIONALITY: Ul’dahian, Doman.

LANGUAGE/S: Hingan, Eorzean.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Quoiromantic (thank you for this term Spurrow)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:  Complicated as fuck.

HOME TOWN / AREA:  Yanxia, deep within the bamboo forests. 

CURRENT HOME:  A hidden cave in the Mists. The location is unknown, except to those Kirei has become dedicated to.

PROFESSION: Flower arranger/seller, deliverer, information broker, exorcist, spy. 

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Curly, wavy, and messy, fire orange in color, recently cut to cheek length. 

EYES: Peculiar lavender eyes.  

FACE: Almost doll-like and delicate in appearance, sometimes covered in dirt. 

LIPS: A bit pouty, rarely wears lip-paint.   

COMPLEXION: Olive, dewy.

BLEMISHES: A mole on the left side of her chin. 

SCARS: Small, barely noticeable scars mar her entire body. 

TATTOOS: None, sometimes Kirei will mess with Henna. 

HEIGHT: 5′6, pretty tall for a Miqo’te.

BUILD: Skinny, lanky, tall. 

FEATURES: Foxlike ears and a foxlike tail. 

ALLERGIES: None.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Neutral, melancholic, bright, friendly, ever present smile. 

USUAL CLOTHING: Practical clothing on the skin-showing side. 

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S:  Losing sense of taste, hands and feet being cut off, feeling trapped.

ASPIRATION/S: To liberate every single slave under the Echion slave branch, to understand what it means to be human.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Empathetic, helpful, friendly, dedicated worker, passionate, self sacrificing, able to look at the bigger picture, peacekeeper.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Self sacrificing, self pitying, generous to the point of poverty, feral, half truths, holds too many secrets.

TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic- individuals tend to be relaxed, peaceful, quiet, and easy-going. They are sympathetic and care about others, yet they try to hide their emotions. Melancholic-  individuals tend to be analytical and detail-oriented, and they are deep thinkers and feelers. 

SOUL TYPE/S:  The Shaman- This type of soul is wise and old. They can give great advice as well as truly connect with people around them. Others often feel better in their presence.

ANIMALS: Fox, Deer, Otter.

VICE HABIT/S: Smoking, drugs every so often, having strong urges to dig holes in the ground out of nowhere, toxic relationships, succumbs to feral instincts every now and then. 

FAITH: Loose faith in Kami/ Shinto.

GHOSTS?: Yes, Kirei can communicate to spirits and sense ones nearby.

AFTERLIFE?: Yes. 

REINCARNATION?: Yes. Kirei has brief episodes where she gets feelings from her last lifetime, and rarely, will share a familiar feeling among people she had been acquainted with in her past life. 

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Taught to read and write, self studying.

FAMILY.

FATHER: R’ihan Meztli - Estranged, Keeper of the Moon. Kirei traveled with her father in Thanalan for a while before he ultimately sold her to a slaver. Spent his life work searching for a powerful Kami in the east. 

MOTHER: Leiote Sekai - Deceased, Doman Hyur. Leiote was a Geiko in Hingashi, and was well known for her ethereal presence, beauty, and kindness. She was ultimately charmed by the outsider R’ihan Meztli, and they both moved back to her home village in Yanxia to start a family. 

SIBLINGS: Kaeyu Meztli - Half sibling, half Keeper half Seeker.  Kaeyu and Kirei don’t know the other exists. Kaeyu has a reputation for being rather rambunctious and a trouble maker. 

EXTENDED FAMILY: Kirei has family on her mother’s and father’s side, but she doesn’t know anything about them, or there whereabouts. 

NAME MEANING/S: Kirei (きれい)- The Hingan word for ‘pretty’, or ‘beautiful’. It has been heavily implied to Kirei by others, that she was named after her mother’s beauty and kindness in hopes that she would inherit these traits. 

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: A Hingan child’s book called ‘The Tale of Mohatsu-Otome’, otherwise known as the Eastern version of Rapunzel. 

DEITY: None.

HOLIDAY: Moonfire Faire.

MONTH: Fall seasons.

SEASON: Autumn.

PLACE: The astral plane, various hidden nooks and crannies throughout Eorzea, Doman bath houses, hot springs. 

WEATHER: Sunny with a chill in the air, warm desert days, rainy.

SOUND / S: Ethereal singing, the singing of lesser nature spirits within the woods, wind chimes, ocean waves, water, the rustle of leaves in the wind. 

SCENT / S: Incense, tobacco, fresh unpicked flowers, old tomes, herbs, fresh baked bread, tea. 

TASTE / S: Peaches, apples, fresh sweet cream.

FEEL / S: Soft and bristly fur, warmth, fresh snow, crunchy leaves, fine sand, hot rocks, pebbles.

ANIMAL / S: Goobbue, Tortoises, smaller creatures.

NUMBER: 3, 6, 9, 33.

COLORS: Rich purple, pink, light/bright blue, green. 

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Dancing, healing, cooking, making shitty looking but durable furniture, sewing, manipulation, twin daggers, aether control.

BAD AT: Lying, drawing, staying clean, writing.

TURN ONS: Charming cockiness, depth, intensity, shoulders, meaningful words, white eyes, dark eyes, smirks, someone who can figure her out, making her laugh, a nice voice.

TURN OFFS: Simple minds, tunnel vision, someone who doesn’t listen to her words, racism, un-needed/careless violence and aggression, calling her a ‘cat’, unflattering colors, self absorbed.

HOBBIES: Flower frolicking, cooking, traveling, swimming, making junk, people watching.

TROPES: Girl next door, Hippie, Undere/Yandere

QUOTES: 

“I want to understand... The weight of a human life.” 

“We need to keep moving forward. We have our eyes in the front for a reason after all, there is no point in looking back to the past.” 

“I take a hold of my fate with my own two hands. I will not leave things to chance.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : I’m not sure about the title, but it would definitely have to be an animated film. And It would probably be about Kirei’s backstory and about her parents. There’s a lot of details about her past that I don’t get to touch on too much in RP. 

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : Something that would invoke a lot of emotion if possible. Ghibli/Disney-esque would be awesomeeee.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : Long story short, something happened to me while visiting Japan that gave me inspiration to write Kirei. Close friends know the entire story, but its a bit long and wild. I’ll just say it involves a Fox shrine I ran into!

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : Besides the thing that happened in Japan, I wanted a character where I was able to express my interest in things like shamanism and the spirit world. I also was really attracted to the idea of writing a character that was still kind to others even though she has no reason to be, due to the rough life she lived. 

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : I’m a really open person who likes to approach people to start conversations, but Kirei is the opposite of that. It makes it a bit harder to approach in RP since I wrote her to be a wallflower. She’s also much more reserved than I am, so if there’s a wild scene happening in RP that I would like to get in on, I really can’t on Kirei since she’s not one to participate in things unless asked. 

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : Probably too much in hindsight rofl. Kirei is the first RP character I ever wrote, so I gave her a lot of commonalities from myself so it would be easier to write her and learn how to RP. 

Q7 :  How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : She would probably tell me that I’m trying my best, but she thinks that with most! 

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

A8 : A whole other side of Kirei comes out if she interacts with manipulative/cunning characters, and I really enjoy writing that darker side of her that appears. 

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

A9: A big inspiration for the core of Kirei is Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket (if you couldn’t tell but all the fruits basket stuff I reblog). I just loved how she was written, and how she stayed kind despite her hard life, and I loved her layers and how she viewed others. Tohru gave me a lot if inspiration to be kind to others growing up, Kirei is really just a homage to her. 

Q10: How long did this take you to complete ?

A10: TOO LONG, I worked on it on and off throughout the week. 

Thanks for reading if you stuck around this long! 

[blackhound14]

Paint it Red. Chapter 2

I thought all that mattered was my work, but sometimes the world isn't just black or white, sometimes it's a whole spectra of colors. Love, I learned, is the most perplexing of all colors.

I hoped that I never learned that.

View On AO3

chapter 1

chapter 3

Chapter 2: Get the Coffee and the Lead.

Chapter 2: Get the Coffee and the Lead.

I have been to several crime scenes over the last few years; first when I was a rookie, working under my adoptive father, Hank, and then when I was promoted to the post of a Lieutenant. I have interrogated more suspects than the amount of people I have, informally, ever spoken to. Never, in the past seven years of my services to the DPD, have I ever encountered such a troublesome investigation.

The man, Markus, nods towards Jerry and motions me to follow.

We enter another room at the back, filled with what I can only describe as more colors. By the looks of it, this place was probably the store room. I look around curiously, as it was just my second nature by this point. There were empty canvases of varying sizes, lined up neatly in the side and boxes full of brand new brushes. I never knew that brushes could have so many variations.

I hear Markus clear his throat in an attempt to gain my attention, “So, how may I help you, Lieutenant?”

Shit! Even his voice is silky smooth, with a honeyed tone, that I want to do nothing but relish in its sweetness. It had a calming feel to it. How does his laugh sound like, I wonder? How would those lips taste, similar to salt and caramel perhaps? Just like the tint of his sun-kissed skin. I snap out of my nanosecond of distraction and muster up my ability to make full coherent words, one skill of mine that I’m not particularly too proud of.

“I am looking for details regarding a certain type of paint.” I hand him the paint sample, “Do you know of anyone who buys it regularly?”

He shook his head, repeating what Jerry explained earlier about not having the shade for sale. “If you require, I can try to get the same shade of color and then match them with the purchases. However, there are different methods of getting a particular color, so there will be many combinations. I am an artist and I am sure that you will find my services useful.”, he winked.

Calm down and do not stutter. You hear me, Connor?!

I must decline, getting civilians dragged into this mess will only create more problems. And unhealthy distractions. But I need help and this man seems to be the only one that will help me accomplish my mission. I reluctantly agreed. I managed to exchange numbers without much stuttering and making a fool out of myself, so that one good thing.

I walk into the office and make my way to the cafeteria, or the break-room as it is so inconveniently named, to get a cup of coffee. I see Hank, going through some of his case files, from the corner of my eyes. Even at this age, his passion for the job remains undefeated. He was still great at his work as I first worked under him for about eight years and the man didn’t care about relations when it came to the office. ‘I am not your father here, Connor. I am your superior and you call me Lieutenant.’

I couldn’t help but smile at those memories. And now he asks me to call him dad. Hank’s some hard nut to crack, but worth it. No matter how solid of a shell he has, he is still a big-big softy that cries during rom-coms, sleeps while snuggling to a teddy-bear like dog and most importantly, will do anything to keep his small family safe.

I then come face to face with the man I absolutely loath. Gavin Reed. It is still morning and I do not have the willpower to deal with a self-centered moron because, god forbid, this time I might be the one to pull up my sleeve and throw a punch. And I haven’t even taken my coffee yet, making this situation even worse.

He’s a man that has everyone on edge, being incredibly disrespectful and violent. His frame is a little similar to mine, but a tad bit broad. His face has a sharp jawline with a light stubble and light colored eyes. I might even call him ruggedly handsome if his lips, whenever I’m graced with, aren’t always curled up in a nasty snarl or busy making a pathetic statement.

“If it isn’t, Lieutenant Anderson the junior! Seems like you overslept, it’s almost noon. Maybe you were too busy riding daddy’s coattails! Hah!”

As I said, pathetic. Why the hell Captain Fowler hasn’t fired him is beyond my comprehension. I ignore his remarks and continue making myself my drink, as I find that replying back to him is an utter waste of my time. I hear him groan, but don’t turn around because I know what was to follow. I quickly grab my hot coffee and accidentallyspill it over his face.

For a second there was pin drop silence, except the screams of the detective and an occasional curse directed at me. He tried to grabbed me by my collar, but a quickstep and all he held was air. “I will fucking kill you, dipshit! Your daddy’s ain’t gonna save you now, asshole!”

He threw another punch which I easily blocked, I then grabbed that arm and twisted him till his back was against me and the other arm locked. “It is not good to fight, detective. I know your dad might have not taught you manners, but at least follow the rules if you do not want to get fired. It would be very disappointing if our bromance ended so soon.” I then push him away and give him a heartfelt smile.

Before he could cause anymore damage, Tina dragged him away to clean up that mess over his face. “Have a good day, detective.” Now that that’s dealt with, I better get back to work.

I make a new cup of coffee and leave for my desk, which is still the one adjacent to Hank’s. He doesn’t notice me at first, preoccupied going over his documents. I peaked and read the name of the file, ‘Child Kidnapping’. The case Hank was assigned just a couple of weeks ago. I remember going through the file once.

“Is something wrong, Hank? You have been going through that file since I came into the office”

He almost jumped off his seat, “Jeez, Connor! At least let the old man know you’re here.” he huffed, “Anyway, remember this case I was telling you about, it’s been closed.”

“Closed?” my eyes narrowed, “But why? It’s hasn’t even been a month.”

“That’s not the reason. The children, the ones that were captured, miraculously returned home one day. On their own, might I add.”

“All of them? How is that possible?”

“No. Not all of them. But the ones that did, say that some guy saved them. Weird. I said that we should investigate, but Fowler disagreed! Oh, and there are some reports Chris left for you.”

“Have to be the forensics report from last night. I’ll take a look at it.”

I open the report and just as I suspected, Caiden Huffman’s basement acted as a torture room for children and he was illegally selling child organs. That wasn’t the only part, the lab also analyzed the fingerprints present on the crime-scene and gave the list of people to whom the prints belong to. I went through the entire report and I couldn't help but feel that there’s something missing. Where did thesechildren go?

“Hank, can I take a look at your file, the one that got closed?”

He looked at me incredulously, “Why? You got a lead on my case?”

“Maybe.”, he handed me the case file. The names matched. “The names of the children are the same. The cases are linked. How many children were reported to have returned to their families?”

“Oh my god! Three. These are the ones. But we cannot interrogate children! Fuck knows what happened to them.”

Three children escaped. “But we have to try, this is my only lead, Hank!”

Name: Trevor Norris

Age: 10

Date Reported Missing: 25 May 2018

Last Seen Location: Pirate’s Cove Amusement Park

Date of Return: 30 May 2018

Name: Sean Woods

Age: 9

Date Reported Missing: 25 May 2018

Last Seen Location: Pirate’s Cove Amusement Park

Date of Return: 30 May 2018

Name: Alice Chapman

Age: 9

Date Reported Missing: 25 May 2018

Last Seen Location: Pirate’s Cove Amusement Park

Date of Return: 30 May 2018

Caiden worked at an amusement park, his shift was from four to nine in the evening. That’s when the parks are the most crowded. “It is the second of June today. Caiden was killed on 31st of May and his body was found today at two in the morning. He was most likely a mascot as he was was able to grab a child’s attention easily. He’d then make sure that the parents lost sight of their child midst the crowd and then manipulated them into going with him. Maybe by making them think that he’d help them find their parents.”

Hank grimaced, “I suspected that the kidnapper was one of the workers, but we went through all the cameras and we found nothing in the recordings, that backed up my suspicion. Only a worker would know the locations of the security cameras and know how to hide from them. The place has a total of ten-thousand employees. We weren’t even given enough time till the case was declared close.”

He claimed the lives of eight children within a month. The kidnapper was then mysteriously killed in his own home. I need to talk to these kids and find out all I can. “We leave after lunch.”

It is long past five and we have learned nothing new. No parent wants to expose their child to the traumatizing memories of the past few days, when they were held captive in that dungeon-isque place. I do not disagree, but I need to know something!

The first couple declined to let us speak to the child. Which is understandable, still we tried to convince them that it was for a case but to no avail.

The second couple, albeit a bit wary, guided us to their son. He hadn’t even left his room since he returned, according to his parents. We tried asking him a few questions, in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Woods, but he was too scared to talk, might as well talk to a brick wall.

“You are Sean, am I right? My name is Connor and this”, I pointed towards Hank, “is my father.”

No reply. I look around the room, trying the figure out more about the boy. In the corner, laid a stringed instrument and the place was littered with basic-level music sheets, a football and a dog’s plushy.

“You are nine years old, correct? Do you like to play the cello? I can see some of your music sheets. Cellos are very soothing.”

No reply.

“Do you like to play any sport, such as football?”

No reply.

“You know, I have a dog at home. A St. Bernard and his name is Sumo. He is huge! But not frightening at all, he’s just a softy that wouldn’t even harm a burglar.”

And as expected. No reply. There has to be a way! Then a small noise caught my attention, finally. But to my horror, instead of Sean opening up about the crime, he began to cry. His parents intervened and bitterly, ordered us to leave.

Disappointed, we leave the residence and get in the car. “Do you think that we’ll find something in the next place, Hank?”

He glanced at me, “Well, they do say that the third time’s a charm. Wouldn’t hurt to try our luck, huh?”

I hummed in agreement. Maybe we will.

“So, you never told me that you would be late to office today.” he questioned as I began to drive.

“I went to an art shop for investigation. A man named Markus, who’s also the owner, volunteered to help me out.”

He hummed, “You are leaving something out, Connor. Something happened!” he said with that twinkle in his eye and a sly smirk, “I can hear it in your voice.”

“What? Nothing else happened! Just thought that he was unbelievably handsome and has a great voice.” I stuttered.

“Aha! So something did happen. You have a crush, son!” he laughed that only seemed to ruffle me up, “Now you are blushing! Oh god!”

“Why do I share everything with you? It is just an infatuation. Please, drop this line of conversation now, dad” I say pleadingly and he chortled but listened.

“Ya know, Connor, it’s high time you found someone to spend your life with. I am getting old, I need to have some grand-kids. Are you gonna deprive your old man of this?”

“Dad, I know you are worried about my non-existing love life, but I will when I am ready. Besides, Cole still acts like a five year old and he already has a girlfriend. How about you ask him for grandchildren.”

Hank’s eyes popped out in surprise, “Cole has a girlfriend?! And he never told me!” I do not reply and continue to chuckle, “Hey, Connor! Tell me, how is she? How did they meet? Is she pretty? Connor? Say something, goddammit!”

The residence of the third child was thirty minutes away, and all I could hope for was the child to say something as I waited for someone to answer the bell. A few moments later I could hear the clicking noise of the door being unlocked and it opened to reveal a woman. The woman had short, light brown hair and pale skin. She had blue eyes, some freckles and a sharp jawline. She’s really pretty.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Good evening, Mrs. Chapman. My name is Connor and this is my partner, Hank. We are from the DPD, we would like to have a talk, if that is alright?”

She remained silent for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Hank cleared his throat and that caught her attention.

“Yes. Do come in. And please, call me Kara.”

She tells us to get comfortable while she brings us some coffee.

“How may I help you, officers?” she asks.

“We are here regarding your daughter, Alice. We got the news that she returned on her own a few days ago after she was… captured. I would like to ask you and Alice a few questions, if that is alright with you.”

She looked around hesitantly, definitely not wanting to speak about it and absolutely not wanting to call Alice. “I know that this is very important to your investigation, but I am afraid that I cannot help you. She doesn’t leave her room, she cannot sleep and when she does she always wakes up screaming. I do not want her to go through those memories again. As a mother, I just want her to forget and move on. I hope you understand.”

I take a deep breath, “The kidnapper has been killed, Kara. The killer, I suspect, is the one that saved your child. All we want to know is, who was the one who saved them. Their looks, their clothing, anything. You can stay in the room with us. We will not ask anything that will harm your daughter anymore. Just give us a few minutes, Kara.”

I hear footsteps and a new voice spoke, “If someone did kill that kidnapper, maybe he did the right thing. He did more than what the police did anyways, why would I help you find the person that saved my daughter?”

That had to be Alice’s father. He was very tall, with dark skin and dark hair with a military cut. An impressive figure.

“Mr. Chapman, killing is a crime, done for whatever reason. Capturing such assholes is our job.” Hank replied.

Before the taller man could say anything else, Kara intervened, she held his palm in her own and looked him in his eyes, “Luther, they are just doing their job. We should allow them to speak to Alice, just for few minutes. We’ll be there with her.”

Luther reluctantly allowed, but not without a warning, and motioned us to follow. The door to her room opened and Alice was silently reading a story book. The moment she notices us, she tries to hide inside her blanket.

“Alice, this is Connor and Hank. They are your friends and they wanna talk to you.” Kara reassures while sitting next to her. “Think you can answer some questions?”

Alice gives a small nod, and I smile. “Hello, Alice. How are you?”

“I am fine, I think. But I am also scared.”

“I know. You like reading books?”, I read the title, “Alice in wonderland? It is an amazing story.” she doesn't reply. I haven't ever read the book, but I know a little about it thanks to the movie’s promotions, “So, I heard that you met the Mad-Hatter.”

The girl was puzzled, “I did not meet him, he is not real.”

“But you did. The person that saved you from the bad man. The Mad-Hatter must have saved Alice sometimes. So, let’s call them, the Mad-Hatter because they saved you. What can you tell me about them?”

She looked at her mother who just nodded in return, “I do not know. He was wearing dark clothes and his face was covered. He saved me from that place and the other two took me back to mom and dad. A boy and a girl.” a few stray tear drops fell from her brown eyes. Kara hugged her and kept her close. “He said that we were free now.”

I glanced towards Luther, “We didn’t see them. They left before we could thank them. That is all.”

I and Hank left after saying our goodbyes to Alice and her parents. Emotionless, I stare right ahead, conflicted.

“Look at the bright side. Now we are certain that your killer is a male and that he is not alone. It is a group of three.” Hank said, trying to make me feel better and it did, but I just felt at lost.

What do I do now?

A buzz grabbed my attention. I received a message.

From: Markus

I have found something. You might wanna have a look! Maybe come over tomorrow?

“What is this? I’m the one that says the good things but when someone else messages you, you beam like the goddamn sun?! Is it that Marcus guy?”

“It is Markus, Hank.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were dating already. Whatever, just send me the wedding date!”

“Very funny, Hank. Look I am laughing. HAHAHAH” I said unimpressed, but my face was flushed red and Hank was having the time of his life.

“And by the way, you have never read ‘Alice in Wonderland’, have you?” and he just laughed more.

[easkyrah]

What’s your opinion on younger teens in the sjm fandoms? I’m starting to get uncomfortable when younger kids follow me and their age is outright listed on their description.

This went way longer than I thought it was. I’d originally planned simply giving a one sentence response, but the more I thought about it, the more I think I needed to clarify, and pin down why I felt this way. Because opinions aren’t fact, you know?

I didn’t grow up on bedtime stories where the prince saved the princess. When my mother tucked me into bed, she told me two weeks after her marriage, she cut herself. As she made the motions over her wrist, I sick feeling remained in my stomach for days, and every day my father came home from work, I would rub my palms over my arms.

My father holds that sex remains an integral facet of a marriage. Without intercourse, two individuals exist as friends. So whenever my father felt aroused, he forced my mother to have sex with him, even though she’s repeatedly told me when we’re alone she doesn’t want it—but she has to if this marriage is to work.

I told my mother that that is rape, that he’s undermining the vow to love each other. But my mother’s so broken down from her young, past self, she can’t see it. One day, she asked me, “Do you think your father’s controlling?” Not husband, but my father.

And it is my father that locked me out on the porch, and when he let me in with me blubbering “why why why”, he told me, “I destroy my enemies so completely so that they don’t destroy me.” Me—his daughter—his enemy.

I’d been doing the dishes, and the plates had made a clashing noise. “That sound is annoying,” my father had said, approaching me. “If you make it again, I’m going to start using my fists to keep me happy.”

I told him I’d report him, but that didn’t deter him. “Good!” he shouted. “Report me so that I don’t have to take care of you anymore.” My mother had watched silently, but she knew she couldn’t do anything.

Because he is controlling. He had my mother quit her job before I was born, and told her if she wanted to get one know, it would have to be as a trash can driver—because it’s work that’s singular, where she won’t be surrounded by people. He closed both my mother’s and I’s bank accounts.

My younger sister whispered to me one day when our father was home, “If this is love, then I do not want it.”

I found love overrated at this point, anyway. I identified (and still do) as an asexual, so when my father preached sex was the fundamental root of a relationship, I cringed. And when my sister, still discovering her orientation, told me she thinks she’s bisexual—well, I knew we were doomed.

We couldn’t talk to our parents—because my mother tells my father what we tell her—about how we felt.

“You’ll like boys when you get older,” my father said. It’s why when I was in elementary school, he had me sign a contract that I wouldn’t date until I was over 21. “You’ll start feeling attracted sexually—that’s normal.”

But I never did. I found boys cute, sure, but it never went further than that. And whenever my friends came out to be gay, and he found out, he’d say, “It’s a phase in life, they’ll get over it.”

I’ve never said it outright that he needed to get over his own homophobic feelings. It was not up to him to play a god and determine the happiness of others—such as I cannot let age be an aspect of discomfort to justify monitoring or controlling others.

Who was my father to lecture me on the privilege of having the chance to cut myself when he found out I was suicidal? Who was he to laugh at me when I demanded he re-open my bank account and tell me “that’s cute” when I begged for my own credit card? [Side not, just today I opened a student savings account! It feels amazing having this autonomy, even small, from him. It’s a step.]

Celaena had been told by Arobynn, the father (?) figure she knew, about the ways of assassins. When you apply the psychodynamic view, it’s no surprise she believes in the beginning violence is the answer. And in my household, when not negative reinforcement, but punishment reigns, you associate violence as a form of tough-love.

But books show that this is not the way, and it doesn’t have to be. I read TOG when I was a freshmen, thirteen years old. I’d gone through the Wattpad phase, scoffing and belittling every romance/chick-flick/werewolf/vampire/love work in my head. What did these people know about love, probably conjuring these scenes they wished happened to themselves?

But the beauty with SJM’s works is that not only are her fictional relationships unique, but herself and her husband Josh’s relationship too. With SJM’s characters such as Aelin, it took our favorite protagonist more relationships than the single one in books where the female lead + first male mentioned ship together.

In ACOTAR, on the other hand Nesta’s been assaulted by Tomas Mandray. Feyre goes back to an abusive relationship (arguably) with Tamlin. Elain’s put herself in a shell when Feyre went missing. Her characters intertwined with pieces of my own story. There are not just external challenges, but internal character development cognitively.

And meeting people, conversing with people over Tumblr—I found people just as broken, if not more, than me. You can’t dismiss these people in the fandom across all ages who have had their own experiences because of relativity.

And I find age a relative number. Oprah Winfrey was 9 when she was raped. One of my closest friends, an immigrant from Egypt, was nearly 5 years old when his house had been ravaged apart and the sounds of gunshots still ring in his years more than decades later. And conversely, I learned what a dildo was when I was in a senior in high school���and over Tumblr.

When sex-ed teachers said “don’t have sex till you’re married”, I saw that sentence as justifying what my father said—that sex is essential to marriage. But it is anything but. Trust and communication are. In fact, in social societal circumstances, what you learn in the classroom never covers this. And if you’ve been raped—how do you feel, knowing that you didn’t have a choice?

Because my mother didn’t have a choice, not when she’d be left with nothing now if she filed for a divorce. Neither did my friend who was attacked by a male when she was at the gas station and dragged away in the night at Bakersfield. Education never covers more than the basic of what has been preached for years.

For so long, no’s have been negotiated. If I tell a man “no”, he says, “But I’ve brought you coffee this entire week. I’ve made you food when you were sick. You owe me this at least.” Do I really owe him that? If I’d known his supposed kindness wasn’t hallmark of friendship, but something much more sinister, would I be emotionally manipulated into feeling like a bitch if I’d disagreed?

So when SJM gives me a badass female who goes through the stages of defeat and grief, but picks herself back up, I see a role model. I see what my mother could have been. I see what my father would have deserved—my father who negotiated my mother��s no’s, and that is not okay. “No” is a complete sentence.

It’s not to say SJM’s books prove the epitome of relationships—Aelin had intercourse with Rowan on the beach—do you know how unsanitary that is?? Do you know???

I get the age stigma, and I’m going to admit that I didn’t have my sister read City of Heavenly Fire while Jace and Clary have sex in hell—am I the only one who found that ridiculous?? Books do over-romanticize things, but isn’t that the point of fanfiction? To portray it in however you feel—more realistically?

When I first came onto Tumblr, my fics were only angst. I carved facets of my own family life into these fics, and when I received notes that readers cried and couldn’t believe I had the capacity to write this, they became more exposed unknowingly to bits of me.

I’d rather my sister read books and join the Tumblr fandom than say yes to the boy on the bus showing her a pornographic video (because boys do that unashamed here), allow teammates on our cross country and track team to smack her butt and ask to make her feel better with a kiss, etc.

Because in our circumstance, reading the stories of those, such as Celaena who survived Endovier—she’s the closest thing we have to understanding our own situation of what transpires in our house. When Sam died, my friends had sobbed while those whose parents had passed away—they didn’t shed a tear. So the former learned what it felt like to have someone you loved ripped away from you—and this empathy later on serves as a life skill.

The fandom itself has been incredibly supportive. I’ve met people from Bulgaria to Australia, and not only do I have better glimpses into the culture, the bond of SJM books have brought a situational awareness that I have yet to experience sitting fifty minutes in a high school classroom.

Because it’s too late to learn the truth of things in college. Our brains do not absorb the information as compared to when we were younger. Retention rates and all that—we’ve got to start young. There are many forms of education, and Tumblr taught me that my father is not the only type of male in the world—and that there are others like me who have thought there was no way out.

SJM’s characters have taught me self-love, that I can be more than my environment. Age knows no boundaries. What one person experienced at 9 years old is what another could have in his/her 20’s.

Age has always been a limit. I mean, it wasn’t until the 26th amendment 18 year olds and over could vote—but are there not the prodigies below that mark more informed about government and politics than someone who has only lived in their city and has been exposed to their parent’s opinions since he/she never went to college? Especially today with the Internet as such a vast source and online class to enroll it, education starts with incentive, not age.

And if NSFW posts are the issue, then we can always insert that read-below cut. It won’t prevent them from not reading, but we can always frame it in a way that perhaps is meant for these younger readers, and then at the very end, reveal that it was for such.

We can use our blogs in a positive manner to educate about sex, if that’s the root of uncomfortableness. We can be the sex-ed class that we never got. Tell me why my sex-ed teachers called people out if they asked questions, saying the kids were too eager? If we are to overcome the stigma about learning about our bodies, then we have to be able to talk about it.

The youth are the future generation, and if we keep teaching kids that we shouldn’t know things at certain ages, then we set limits on education itself. When I told my sister to not read City of Heavenly Fire, she got a copy from her friend and read it herself—which put a strain on our bond. Because restrictions show that we do not trust. And we’ve got to take the leap of faith. 

I get not everyone has these tragic/pity/sorrowful stories, no matter what you believe. But personally, SJM’s books taught me that there exists some good in the world. There is redemption. There are second chances, and my sister and I struggle to fix our family.  

We have to be exposed. It’s how we function. And for kids who never went through sex-ed, reading books as a source of information can direct them to look things up and educate themselves.

SJM’s books illustrated that you could find happiness without sex—a fact my father would have disagreed with. SJM showed that love is progress, and doesn’t have to be detrimental. Some may interpret her books in other ways, but that’s why it’s so pivotal we have these discussions.

Take Nesta Archeron. Lots of people has called her a cold-hearted bitch, not realizing that it’s an actual, legitimate defense mechanism. And if being a cold-hearted bitch is sending mercenaries after your sister, starving yourself to death so their father would save them, writing a letter to the Mortal Queens despite her hatred of Faes—then I guess I would be too.

But knowing me, I’d freeze up and probably would have not lived at all. Because it’s easy to dismiss characters when they do something we don’t—as if we could have done better. Sure there’s ways Nesta could have gone about and done things differently, but then she wouldn’t have been Nesta Archeron, you know? We’re dismissing her as a person, and coping mechanisms as invalid, which people use in life.

Passing judgments on characters is easy, but when you dive into the Tumblr fandom, you see people defending her (like me), and get another side of things. These debates allow for that one track mind to diverge.

Because if I hadn’t opened up to people, then I would have continued to cut myself. And then I was able to help my sister stop too. The exchange and interaction of ideas may be used to promote ideas that no longer remain up to date, but that’s why we have other users who are up to date, and use their knowledge to write about them. Because knowledge is power!!

What do you guys think? Lowkey highkey want your feedback and thoughts not just to my response but the anon’s as well.

[groundbreaking-science]

2-0 - Sensing and Manipulation - “Breaking the Natural Flow”

How does that picture book retelling of the Cell Games go again? We had it at one point, a staple of Pan’s bedtime routine. You can never find these things when you need them of course but I’m sure I remember the broad strokes.

Once upon a time there was an alien called Cell. Cell was very bad. It liked to eat people for dinner, and the tastiest people of all were the scared kind. One day, Cell snuck down to Earth to eat. It gobbled up one person for breakfast, but that wasn’t enough. It gobbled up two people for lunch, but that still wasn’t enough. It gobbled up three whole people for dinner but yet that still was not enough! Now, scaring people was hard work and always left Cell hungry. If it was going to eat its fill, Cell needed to scare the entire world at once…

Cell was cunning, and devised a plan to challenge the world to a tournament. If Earth could beat it, it would go away hungry, but if Cell won it’d eat everyone for its dinner! But Cell was also a cheater. It used explosions and magic tricks on its TV show to scare everyone away from competing. He decided to let the world stew in fear for nine days. The longer people were afraid, the tastier they would be. It licked its lips in anticipation, thinking itself so very clever.

But Cell did not expect Mr. Satan, the World’s Champion to come to the rescue! Cell threw fire and lasers to scare Mr. Satan into giving up, but he was brave, and saw through its lies. Cell was not strong at all - it was all just magic tricks! Cell pleaded for its life but the alien had been too wicked across the Galaxy to escape justice. With one huge Satan Punch, Cell was defeated. His punch was so strong it undid all Cell’s evil and everyone came back to life! Mr. Satan had saved the world, and he keeps us safe to this day. The End.

The story is an alarmingly macabre one of good and evil, a comment on how we should fight against trickery and be brave in the face of adversity. Even better because it’s true, yes?

For those old enough to remember The Games themselves, I’m sure you’ll agree the picture painted above is a gross simplification at best. Notable omissions include the civil unrest after Cell’s broadcast, Mr. Satan’s initial loss in the ring before all pretence of the tournament was lost and of course the mysterious challengers - me and my friends and family. In fact our presence is completely glossed over these days in material for all ages. This is by design. We would rather you forget about that ragtag band using the same magic tricks as Cell. The most charitable accounts of our appearance say we were misguided amateurs wanting to make a name for ourselves. The least forgiving say we were in on the plot. Very few theories have the measure of it.

If you were to root through ZTV’s archives, deep in the vaults below ZPress’ main headquarters, there, on an unassuming rack, you’d find the original battered camera footage and corresponding Cell Games’ broadcast tapes. These tapes went missing until very recently. Oh, their absence was noted, though never publicised - what an embarrassment that would have caused. I know because I had them at home on my own shelf. I was curious what little footage there was towards the end of the bout, as my own memories were vivid but distorted over the years. Suffice to say that with what they showed I was a little reluctant to return them. Still, after this, I’m sure they’ll be hauled out, and with a little imagination and extrapolation there’s enough there to confirm my story.

Pan very much enjoyed the picture book - cajoling her Gramps to act the events out with her when they played. But when she was old enough to understand how to keep secrets I retold the story somewhat differently. Bear with me as the truth is a little more winding; with a far larger cast filled with knights, monsters, witches and wizards, giants and the Chimera itself, and begins some three years before the Games themselves.

Are you tucked in tight? Good. Then I’ll begin.

There once was a boy called Trunks.

Now. The Trunks in this story was not the Trunks we know and love today. Yes, they both were the son of an uncrowned King from a long-lost kingdom and the Good Witch, and they both grew up in those vaulted corridors of Capsule Castle. They even looked the same: the same set jaw when serious, the same high hairline inherited from their father, hidden behind those bangs. They both could swing a sword. But this Trunks was a little more polite, not as self-assured, would have to learn to laugh a little more - and I’m sure he wouldn’t have played tricks on his sister and niece half as much as the Trunks we know.

This Trunks was waiting. The cliffs from which he watched the unfolding scene below were like those at home - all but desolate for miles around. But he could feel the world and this world was truly alive; millions upon millions of people across the land, more than he’d ever sensed. And that gave him hope.

He had heard stories of the warriors in past-times led by the Golden Knight, your own Grandpa Son Goku; the strongest and bravest fighter there had ever been. At home and in foreign lands the secret order battled against evil wizards, demons and monsters to keep their chosen homeland safe for the King and his subjects. The warriors and knights were different from the rank and file of the King’s soldiers, for they knew how to harness the power of Words to bring forth great strength from within; echoing the powers of beasts, or of fire and the Sun, great winds, and even dragons. Trunks had been taught the same secret Words, but he was all alone in his land, not even yet a grown man but defending it as best he could from terrible monsters. He had come to our land to find your Grandpa, the Golden Knight of Legend, and to warn him.

Down below I was waiting too, though in great fear. I was just a lowly squire back then, surrounded by the great warriors Trunks had only heard of, along with the Good Witch - your Auntie Bulma. Your Grandpa had been travelling in distant lands to learn more Words and secrets and had promised to return soon. But now it would be too late. Far from the joyful reunion we were one day hoping for, we found ourselves yet again rushing towards trouble. Your Grandpa had not vanquished that conqueror of other lands - the evil “Lord” Freeza. The Tyrant had risen again, and this time we were to face him alone.

Now Freeza was upon us, his ship weighing anchor behind our hideaway cliffs. His forces flooded ashore, followed by himself and his much stronger father. We panicked. For the third time in my seven years of life I was preparing myself to face down impossible odds.

However, high on the cliffs the lonely knight was not concerned. He knew the story - the Golden Knight of Legend would appear in a few hours and save the lands once again. Trunks would just hold on until the battle was over to give his message in secret before travelling home…

But something was wrong.

Soon, Trunks could see, we would be abandoning our hiding spot to make our desperate surprise attack. He knew that would spell our doom, the difference in strength between even this land’s greatest warriors and the Tyrant far too great. There wasn’t much time. With Grandpa not around, Trunks would have to intervene.

As we readied ourselves for what could be our last moments I sensed the impossible and froze - Freeza’s henchman dying in a moment beyond the rock, their lives snuffed out as if a candle flame in a gale. But before I had a chance to grapple with this, above us flew a figure bright against the sky, shining golden, almost as blinding as the Sun itself. A memory of crystallized righteous rage came back to me then: a Golden Knight, a legend realised in the distant land of Namek. Was this Grandpa? No. Stronger than I remembered. The apparition cleaved Freeza in two with his sword, sliced him to pieces and blasted him into nothingness with just his breath. Freeza! Grandpa’s struggle with the Tyrant had razed the entire Namekian’s homeland to the ground, but here was a new Golden Knight, so much stronger than your Grandpa, and he’d destroyed Freeza with barely a shrug.

We rushed closer to see, hoping the miracle was not a trick of the distance. Even Freeza’s father wasn’t a problem for him. The Golden Knight defeated him easily, burnt their ship - then turned to greet us warmly and politely. We were relieved to find out he was on our side. He told us he knew when and where your Grandpa would come ashore and asked us whether we wanted to come and greet him. But how could anyone know that?

Knights were born not made, that was a fact, and I thought I knew all of them. What’s more, the Golden Knight was only supposed to appear once every thousand years. Up close the boy didn’t look much of a knight to me - his eyes and hair were too light - but there was no doubt about his bloodline. And if he could become a Golden Knight, could I?

I had a lot of questions for this young knight. The others asked theirs in turn but he rebuffed them all. He couldn’t explain himself or how he knew your Grandpa. A secret mission from a far away land, I guessed.

True to the boy’s word Grandpa came ashore exactly when expected and we rushed to greet him. He was glad to see us after his long journey, but looked past us to the new knight. Your Grandpa had never met the boy either, even though the knight claimed to know of him.

They spoke away from us for some time, the boy revealing in secret to your Grandpa who he truly was, his name and parentage. A knight indeed from a far away land - but far away in time, not distance. This Trunks was from the future, and carried a grave story of our fates.

In Age 767, on May 12th at around 10 am, two monsters of immense destructive power would appear on an island 9 miles southwest of South City - Amenbo Island. Wanting nothing more than to kill for fun, these monsters would easily obliterate every fighter and soldier in the land in their first onslaught. From there they would decimate the population, cruelly hunting the King’s subjects for sport to pass their time. The monsters never stopped. Your uncles would hardly make a stand, run through almost instantly. I would escape, and use the understanding of the Golden Knight I had gained as a squire to become one myself. I’d teach the boy the same in turn, acting as his mentor to hone him as a warrior and pass on every Word I knew until I too would succumb. And Grandpa? The great Golden Knight himself would never even see the battle - he would die of a sudden sickness of the heart in a matter of months.

The Fates in the boy’s time said we were all doomed. But not now, not with his warning. His land was nearly lost but we still had time to save our future. The boy gave Grandpa a potion to cure him when he would fall sick, and before leaving gave us his word he would return when the day came, should he survive the time between trips. Then, almost as suddenly as he’d entered our story, he vanished into the ether.

Seeing his magic as proof of the boy’s prophecy, the warriors all vowed to meet again at the battlefield in three years time, fully prepared. For the most part we went our separate ways, myself with Grandpa back home to your Grandma and our tranquil farm in the hills. But it would not remain quiet for long - we’d need to train together.

Those three years were an odd time for us. Dreaming of a future felt wrong (knowing what was coming), but I am grateful your Grandma insisted we live as normally as possible. I continued my schooling with her, learning my words and numbers to fulfil my wish to become a Great Scholar someday, to take advantage of the peacetime we hoped for, and with Grandpa I trained to become a real warrior Knight, preparing to one day hold the flame of the Golden Knight, him teaching me many of the Words he knew, ready for the future we knew was coming.

Often I would lay awake at night wondering about the boy, the knight we met that fateful day, whether there was anyone thinking of a future for him like Grandma was for me. With May 12th fast approaching I hoped we’d see him safe again.

We would only find out what truly happened to Trunks’ land and how he came to find us when we met him the second time. In his land there was no Uncle Goten to play with, no little Bra to carry on his shoulders, not even a little Pan to defend his castle against. Trunks was a sworn soldier through and through. When his teacher - the me in the future - had lost his life in battle he made a promise to protect all he could and vowed to defeat those great monsters. There weren’t many people left in his land, but Trunks did what he could all the same.

His only constant company was his mother: the Good Witch Bulma. Like Trunks she helped everyone she could by making potions and spells and enchantments. But try as she might, she could not magic away the worst evil - those two monsters. After years of trying their best and still retreating at every turn, most would lose hope of ever finding a way out of that nightmare. Not the Good Witch. She knew that if her magic couldn’t get them out of the situation they were in now, maybe they just had to change what now was…

Time travel should be impossible, but that word meant nothing to your Auntie Bulma. She worked day and night for years to construct her own special enchantment, the like of which no witch or wizard in the world has ever made before or since: a time changer. Whoever used the device could travel in time, but there would only be enough magic for a trip to the past and back before it needed to be restored, and that could not be done quickly. Bulma had sent Trunks off to see us and held her breath for those few hours, overjoyed when he returned safe and sound. Her magic vindicated, she immediately she set to work restoring the enchantment.

From then on Trunks faced his monsters with renewed vigour. Now he knew the past had a fighting chance because of his warning and if he could just visit us once more to assist he might learn a secret to defeat them in his own time. As he fought on to stem the loss of life, the Good Witch worked as fast as she dared, fearing the monsters drawing closer and closer.

Two years in Trunks’ time would pass before the enchantment was ready to use and his fateful trip finally a reality. He said goodbye to his mother not knowing whether he would ever see her again - neither his return trip or her survival in the meanwhile assured.

With one command he made his way back to us hopeful for our progress and found - well, a mess, quite frankly.

Death and destruction greeted him at our meeting place nine miles south west of South City. Trunks’ prediction was wrong; the monsters had crawled out of their cave too early and had rampaged through the island we had so desperately wanted to defend. Barely anything was left standing. He found us in the midst of tracking down the perpetrators. Worse, your Grandpa wasn’t with us to turn the tide; he’d only just fallen ill and taken the Good Witch’s potion, now bedridden at home.

And to complete our misery, those weren’t the two monsters Trunks knew. The past had truly changed. Trunks was as lost as we were.

Thankfully our training had paid off at least - early in your uncles’ desperate chase, your Uncle Vegeta caught and crushed the first monster. Up close we could see this one’s true nature; it wasn’t a demonic beast but manmade, conjured with a dark and powerful magic, an imitation of life puppeting nuts and bolts. The magic was a type the Good Witch hadn’t seen in many years: the work of Gero the Dark Wizard. In fact, the Good Witch informed us that the other monster was none other than the Wizard himself - though not in human form. He had used his wicked magic to transform himself, becoming stronger and smarter. In his cunning he had led us to his lair, where more creatures laid in wait to defend him.

Three creations laid in wait. The first he called 16, the kind of opponent we were expecting - a giant in stature with an overwhelming menace emanating from him, a great wall of possessed machinery who scowled and scrutinised all as though looking for someone.

The last two monsters were finally those of Trunks’ warning - 17 and 18. Though we found them wanting in appearance - we envisioned horns and teeth and tails and wings, and given Trunks’ fear you would have thought that’s what he saw, plain as day.

In truth, the terrible twins were human. Young and beautiful, they could pass unseen amongst us if they wished. Far from the full artifice of their companion, they had once been human. But the wizard had mutated them, blood and bone and all, to draw out an unnatural strength; then cursed them as he had done his creations of metal. They had but one purpose, one itch to scratch, the Wizard cackled - to seek and destroy Son Goku.

The wizard bade the three to kill all those who stood before him. Your uncles braced for what would be the final battle. And then… nothing. Instead, the twins turned on their creator, their torturer, running him through in an instant for the crimes he had committed against them.

Cruelly however, his curse was not broken. 16 in particular, not being made of flesh, could not battle his driving desire and so the trio left to help him fulfil his binding, all the while paying the warriors no mind. This turn of events was far from expectation, and the small army now found itself without an enemy.

In Trunks’ future, the monsters 17 and 18 were pure evil and without care - that much was true. But Uncle Krillin did not see this in the Seventeen and Eighteen of our time when they pushed past him into the wide world they’d been hidden from for so long. Far from the murderers Trunks had painted them as, Krillin instead saw a tired, wretched pair who might be reasoned with. Everyone thought him mad, but Uncle Krillin hoped the damage to our land may not be as deadly as we’d first feared.

Regardless of the twins’ eventual intentions, our focus now turned to protecting your Grandpa from the trio. He had barely recovered, and would not be able to fight the three monsters if they soon found him. I helped move him from home in secret, and your uncles worked to intercept the monsters; the great warriors now coming to the aid of their leader in his time of need.

Despite two Golden Knights supporting the band - both father and son in Vegeta and Trunks - without your Grandpa the warriors would struggle. Though not as cruel in our time, the strength of Seventeen and Eighteen was even greater than in the stories Trunks had told. We were prepared to match Trunks’ future and no more.

Whether your uncles would have won in the end is uncertain. A greater threat still was heading towards both us and the monsters, indifferent to our respective causes.

We didn’t notice the disappearances right away, distracted by the struggle at hand as we were. While our back were turned, entire towns of people had emptied, only their clothes left for passing travellers to stumble across. On any other day we would have sensed the void of life growing and helped, if we could. But this day we learnt something was wrong only as the whispers reached our friends at home. Something else was out there, something beyond the horrors that even Trunks had seen.

The Chimera had arrived.

Cell stepped out of the shadows to announce itself to us, its sheer brazen confidence terrifying to behold. The history books speak of it as a demon from another land, but Cell was instead the pinnacle of The Dark Wizard’s creation. In secret he had gathered blood from the strongest warriors in the realm and beyond, and used blood magic to create a creature so grotesque, so wicked, I wouldn’t dare describe it to someone as sweet as you. It was a Chimera, and called itself Cell. To gain strength it would need to eat hundreds of people alive, and to complete itself - to reach the peak of its evolution - it would have to take Seventeen and Eighteen. It was already stronger than us, and we knew if it achieved its goal its power would be beyond our imagination. Our home - and very lives - would be lost.

What should have been a battle against the twisted 17 and 18 to save our future had exploded into a fight to save our lives and our present. Within seconds everything had been turned upon its head, and we were now doing the unthinkable given our three years of preparation - defending the cursed creatures Seventeen and Eighteen from this new monstrosity. They were just as scared as we were.

But just in time, a near miracle! The Good Witch of our time sent your uncles her magic. She had been pouring over the Dark Wizard’s work and had found instructions for a potion, one that would undo the wizard’s sorcery on the human monsters, killing them in the process but making them useless to Cell. She entrusted this potion to Uncle Krillin. All he had to do was to fling the potion on them - a single drop would do the job.

Uncle Krillin rushed to find them, difficult though it was when both he and they were keeping low and away from Cell. He found them with moments to spare and aimed his throw, but he could not release. Uncle Krillin knew that everyone was counting on him to kill the monsters before Cell could eat them, but as he watched them cowering, trying to help the heavily damaged giant Sixteen, he faltered. He realised how they had not killed anyone for fun like in Trunks’ time and were only afraid for themselves, for each other… Instead, he poured the potion at his feet. Against everyone’s protestations he had stayed his hand, unable to bring himself to kill innocent people. He hoped against hope it was the right thing to do.

In the short term, it is fair to say that this was not the best decision. Cell caught the monsters and completed itself, becoming far stronger than any of us could have believed possible. Despite our efforts we had lost the battle. And yet, choices we make with a kind heart, even if initially regrettable, often have a habit of helping us in return when we least expect it.

Cell could have killed your uncles right then and there. But pride is a funny thing and Cell - to its detriment - had plenty. It could not face killing us before it had had a chance to best your Grandpa in battle. It wanted everyone in the land to weep hearing the sad laments of bards learning their one true secret champion had been defeated, and to tremble upon learning that Cell was on its way to set the land - and the world - to burn.

This is where the story begins for most everyone else. For years people would ask each other where they were the moment Cell announced the Games, his call for a worthy challenge and the nine day countdown to the everyone’s doom. On that fateful day, Cell’s proclamation filled the people with an overwhelming fear. They had no faith in the King’s Guard, weakened after years of peace throughout the land. And they had no faith in the King’s champions.

But the world had forgotten that long ago, there lived a little boy who fought the Great Demon King Piccolo.

The world had forgotten the warrior who turned aside the threat of the invading Knights and Tyrants.

The world had forgotten your Grandpa.

And in doing so they - and Cell - knew nothing of me.

In the nine days between the announcement and the Games, the land panicked. Your uncles panicked. I panicked. But not Grandpa. After recovering from his illness, he worked patiently with me so I could learn and finally master the way of the Golden Knight he, Trunks and now Uncle Vegeta knew; everyone would be needed for this fight, after all. Scared as I was holding this new Wordless flame inside my heart, I was willing to do my part to help. Then, with still a week to go, we stopped. Grandpa said we were ready.

The news excited me. Do you think you can beat Cell? I asked him. Not a chance, he sang, but I have a plan. He just smiled at me, like I should be in on his secret strategy too. Our friends asked the same and he repeated his reply. To not think he could lead us to victory, yet be so happy? Some wondered whether Grandpa had lost his mind. I didn’t understand him, but I believed in him, and had faith in his unspoken plan.

The only training we were to do between then and the Games was to live as a Golden Knight day and night, to feel as though this was normal for us so we would not tire or be overcome with that wild emotion. In trying to navigate our day on the homestead we learned restraint, how to hold onto that power without wastage, and how to avoid being burnt from holding the flame so close. Otherwise, Grandpa told me, my job was to relax.

At the same time, not quite half the world away, your Gramps came to exactly the same conclusion. As the winner of the recent tournament of warriors, he knew he was the strongest person in the land - no foreign-trained upstart could stand up to the likes of him. He told the bards to spread the word, that Cell better watch out - Mr. Satan was on his way. The land rejoiced; they had their hero, and the world’s best no less. They were saved! The rest of the week filled itself with celebration, as though the match were already won, and the people now waited with excitement for the downfall of the alien invader.

Finally, the day and time was upon us. We travelled into the wilderness where the Games would be, and were greeted on our arrival by Cell itself. Our not-so-merry band was composed of your Grandpa, most of your uncles, the grown-up Trunks… and little me. The up-jumped squire to the warriors I lined up with, dwarfed by the simple yet bulky armour I’d asked your Uncle Piccoyo for. Even Sixteen, now repaired, came to help us in honour of his fallen friends and the mercy your Uncle Krillin had shown them; Krillin’s hope the Dark Wizard’s creations could be redeemed and freed of the curse was well-placed indeed. We were an imposing sight for any warrior to face off against to be sure, but Cell only had eyes for your Grandpa.

Unlike the rest of the land, now readying to feast and celebrate the sure result, I was nervous. And still Grandpa said not to worry, all was in hand, yet he would tell no one the secret.

Of course, we weren’t the only challengers. How could we forget the Greatest Warrior in All the Land, Mr. Satan? The first time I ever met your Gramps he called me an idiot for not knowing who he was. How’s that for a first impression? We were even called reckless by the bards accompanying him, and they composed rude songs calling us weak. We’d get caught in the crossfire if we weren’t careful, we were told. On your heads be it.

We thought the same of them in return - merely fools and jesters. Mr. Satan knew no Words, he would be powerless in this fight and unable to defend his followers. Still, as much as we wanted to protect them from harm, we knew any life the Chimera stole would be restored if Grandpa could win, so we did not expend any effort shooing them away.

Your Gramps, great showboat that he is, insisted on trying his luck against Cell first. The bards began their song, the Champion faced the monster down and roared… yet Cell simply breathed on him to throw him from the ring in seconds. Truly a court jester against a dragon. The bards were in shock. Surely this was a trick? A cheat? Your Gramps claimed the same, stammering his way through explaining witchcraft and explosion magics, but he wasn’t as sure of the deception as he asserted.

Entertainment over, Grandpa and Cell readied themselves. Both were razor sharp - excited even - the Golden Knight of Legend trained onto the Chimera and ready to give his all. I felt it again then, that sense of hope he can bring out in you. He did in the land of Namek and he would do it again here for all of us. I now knew why Trunks believed in Grandpa so much without even meeting him - his mom and myself in the future would have spoken of him highly, weaving stories of his great battles and victories in a such a way you couldn’t help but feel your heart rise.

One breath. The land stilled - and the clash began.

No one would believe the intensity of the battle from the stories and songs handed down from bard to bard. Though their tales were never an exaggeration. The speed, the force, the damage. The noise. Cell and your Grandpa’s Words brought forth great power, shattering the ring and wilderness all around. The display was beyond most people's’ limited imaginations, and nobody had ever seen the likes of it. But your Gramps had. He’d felt this kind of strength once before, many years ago, from the man who killed his master and left him for dead with just one Word. It was a type of magic, yes, but an ancient and visceral one, and he feared it greatly. He was quickly learning that the hope of the land was misplaced in him and he, like the rest of us, would have to put his hope in Grandpa too.

Watching their fight from a safe distance, your uncles gaped then whooped at the turn of events. They said they’d lost track of Grandpa in the fray, that he was awe-inspiring, truly the warrior of legend. Were they joking?, I thought. I could follow easily, and what was more I could tell Grandpa wasn’t matching Cell. He had to be holding back, maybe to surprise it. But that didn’t make sense, why would he do that with so much at stake? Grandpa was inflicting damage but he looked to be tiring, whilst the Chimera used its blood magic to heal injury after injury.

One giant blast from Cell in defence and the ring was blown clean away, and whatever pretence of rules the Games had fled in the wake of the explosion. This was truly a fight to the death for both warriors.

Cell taunted your Grandpa as they broke apart, and we willed him to fight harder. Why wouldn’t he? It didn’t make sense to me. Grandpa was the strongest, the Golden Knight, and I was only a boy, and yet I was sure I could put up more of a fight that he was now –

Grandpa gave up.

He turned his back on the Chimera to return to us. I couldn’t believe it, no one could. Grandpa had been fighting his very best to no avail. I had overestimated him. If he couldn’t win we were doomed. Yet, he was still smiling as though his loss was expected. He then let us all in on his trump card.

Me.

I was to defeat the Chimera. My hunch was right. I was only a boy yet my heritage and exposure to battle from such a young age had honed me. I had surpassed my father. Though there was one problem, one misstep in Grandpa’s secret plan. In my desire to please him, I’d never truly told him how much I hated fighting.

In principle I was willing to. I had repeated as much to Grandpa over the three years, and the me in the future had fought monsters, too. But like Trunks, that Son Gohan had grown to be a different man to the man I would become. He never became a scholar - there was nowhere left to learn. He never got to catch criminals for fun nor have a chance to be the luckiest husband. And the very worst of all? He never got to be a Dad to the the most amazing little girl in all the world. I’m sure, as much as he cared for the Earth, the Son Gohan of the future did not want to be fighting as he died, and I knew at that young age I did not want that either.

Even so, despite my reluctance in that moment, Grandpa was right. If I wanted to grow up to be the scholar I always dreamed I could be, this time, just this once, I needed to try and fight.

To everyone’s shock I agreed and stepped forward to take up the hero’s mantle from Grandpa. He even told me to enjoy myself. The Chimera laughed and laughed, anticipating a second round of entertainment. A snack before its main course and a chance to catch its breath. If the Golden Knight wanted to sacrifice his boy in vain that was his choice. It approached, completely recovered, and launched into its terrible onslaught.

The bards would tell tales of Cell’s overwhelming power, how the poor boy would be tossed around like a ragdoll and they had averted their eyes from the sheer cruelty of it all. They couldn’t see the truth; that blow for blow I was withstanding Cell better than Grandpa ever had. It landed some heavy hits and Words for sure, and even Uncle Piccoyo believed I was on the ropes, scolding your Grandpa. Yet smash after smash I stood up again and again, barely understanding how I could be so resilient. Slowly, your uncles came to realise that Grandpa was right. I was the only one who had a chance, I really was a secret weapon. But not everything was going to plan.

For the first time, I was wrestling with a new fear - not in the same way as before, when I was scared for myself or my family and friends when fighting tooth and nail for our lives. This time I feared what I could do. I knew I could end this miserable creature’s life easily enough. It had killed many people and wanted to kill more. I could stop that. But was it right for me to pass such a judgement? Wouldn’t that make me just as bad? I looked to my uncles on the hill for guidance. Trunks would have killed it without hesitation, and he was a good man. But Uncle Krillin had stayed his hand against the monsters, believing they could be reasoned with. The Chimera was also created by the Dark Wizard; maybe it could come to its senses? And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to be a killer. My self-doubt stopped me from being as strong as I could be; I became slower, unresponsive. The tendrils of indecision creeped in.

I could not fight back.

My lack of enthusiasm frustrated Cell to no end. It wanted to fight me at full strength to humiliate your Grandpa, and to do so it realised it had to provoke me. It decided to torture me physically. What the bards say is true. Burning and branding me with his Words, fracturing bones with each strike and forcing dislocations as he squeezed me; aiming in such a way as to maximise my pain without killing me. Doing that to anyone, let alone a child, is immeasurably cruel. Cell hoped to reignite the flame of the Golden Knight I had tempered those past days. But its efforts were all in vain.

Still I could not fight back.

Failing to bring forth the rage it wanted from me, it turned it’s attention to your Grandpa and Uncles, forcing them to fight for their lives against magic creatures of its own devising. The warriors struggled, close to death at times, fighting the replicants and Cell itself where I could not. Sixteen was all but destroyed in the fray, throwing his life away trying to protect us all. This horrid creature was going to kill everyone and yet, even as I willed it…

Still I could not fight back.

Hope was dwindling, the light fading.

Then came the greatest surprise. Your Gramps, still clinging to the sidelines in a show of defiance as the Champion of the People he would prove himself to be, did one of the bravest things I have ever seen to this day. Knowing in his hearts of hearts that these ‘tricks’ were real and truly understanding the mortal danger he was in, he approached what was left of the battlefield to bring me a dying Sixteen. The gentle giant had fought alongside us against orders, the faith Uncle Krillin had placed in him and his friends encouraging him to see the good in the world. And now he wanted to speak his last words to me.

Sixteen told me he understood. I was gentle, I valued life and didn’t want to hurt anybody no matter their actions. But our words don’t always work and sometimes, just sometimes, we have to go against our own rules to stand up for what is right. It is because I valued life that I must protect it.

And for that sentiment, Cell killed him.

Cell’s final act of cruelty against its own brother pushed me over the edge. My resolve finally solidified, and the Golden Knight I had grown so used to as a power within me raged with fuel once again. I broke my limits, strength more than doubling in an instant, my Words now echoing around the sky like thunder to the lightning weaving new armour around me. In moments I destroyed the Chimera’s familiars, saving your Grandpa and uncles.

For the first time, Cell was afraid; for the first time it ;knew; I could kill it.

…Sometimes, Pan, small people have big feelings. They’re hard to explain if you’ve never had them before but you feel them just as much as any grown-up can. I was barely ten years old and I had an angry feeling, more angry than I’d ever felt before. It clawed at my face and boiled inside, made an itch I had to scratch until something bled. The calm control over the Golden Knight I’d gained with Grandpa the week before had slipped; I was taken over by it, drunk on my own power. I had hated Cell with all my heart for what it had done from the start, but now I let myself feel it, not caring if that was right or wrong to do. I wanted Cell to feel the same pain as all those people it had killed. I wanted Cell to pay.

Pursuing that desire was the worst thing I could have done. It may be hard to put aside how terrible and wicked someone is, but don’t chase what I did then, Pan. Always be quick, without passion for blood. In wanting my own revenge on Cell I let my new strength and huge feelings cloud my judgement. They fueled me, yes, but the power it gives is not easy to stay or wrestle. It can - and will - consume you, as it nearly did me.

That day I toyed with Cell using my new-found strength in the same way it had toyed with me, ignoring the calls of your uncles to come to my senses in favour of the bloodrush in my ears. Why would I listen? I was finally enjoying this fight. Isn’t that what your Grandpa had told me to do? But by not heeding their warnings I gave Cell time to think - to plan. One push away from me and it had the space and time to breathe and speak a deadly Word, an explosion I would never have been able to defend against. Grandpa, still tired from his struggles but knowing he could help, rushed in. And in doing so, Grandpa died.

The world stopped for me. In that one blast your Grandpa had sacrificed himself to save us all - to stop our land falling to the same fate as the old land of the Namekians. Because I did not want to control my emotions I had killed the Golden Knight of Legend. Even worse, Cell lived, coming back stronger still and now enraged, ready to end the world without hesitation.

Grandpa had been wrong to place his faith in me. For a moment I had had the upper hand, before losing it through folly. Now no one could stop it. The situation was hopeless.

With the fight taken out of me I felt every break and bruise, my left arm dislocated and damaged so badly it hung lifeless at my side. In an instant my resolve had shattered into pieces and I could barely muster the energy to stand, the magic of the Golden Knight now dulled again. It was too late. Cell was to have the last Word. The world shook, and I could do no more.

Now, in stories of monsters and knights and dragons, when all hope is lost, there comes a voice on the wind to help the hero, to tell them what they need to hear. Like in those fairy stories I had been sent to sleep with, it was then I heard a voice - your Grandpa Goku’s voice - speaking to me from beyond the veil. He told me not to give up, that I still had the strength - I just had to find it in myself. I tried to apologise but he shushed me. After everything he still believed in me, he still had hope in his little boy. All I had to do was have that same faith in myself. I chose to believe him one last time, and legs shaking, squared up towards the Chimera.

Cell’s final deadly Word howled towards me like a nightmare yet with one steadying breath, one hand outstretched and Grandpa’s unwavering faith I dug deep. And yelled. And matched it.

Our struggle was like two great dragons, blue and yellow, claws locked in a stalemate, their clash carving great canyons in the landscape around us. Whichever of us faltered first would be instantly overcome in the wake of the others’ Word, their cause lost. There was no going back. Your uncles fled for their own safety and I was left completely alone to face this creature, seemingly nothing but the roar of our voices for comfort. Barely a ten year-old boy, the fate of the realm on my shoulders. But I wasn’t alone, not really. Your Grandpa was with me, urging me on. Dig deep Gohan, he said, just let it go!

Your Uncle Vegeta could see my resolve returning and thought fast, using the last of his voice to scream at Cell, dividing its attention. It worked! Cell’s focus slipped. One chance. I pushed as hard as I could, the final charge, and a power I would never have otherwise believed myself capable of burst forward as I screamed.

I felt its last attempts at resistance reverberate back - less the wall it had been and now a weak struggle, my words a jet of sand, of glass shards, forcing their way between its fingers, into and through it. One great dragon swallowed the other whole and it was done. The evil was vanquished, and everything turned to silence and stillness once again. The land was safe.

Cell was gone.

In that moment I was too exhausted to think beyond an overwhelming sense of relief, the magic dispelled and I was left numb. Your uncles surrounded and congratulated me, helping me from the pile I’d collapsed into to take me home to rest. We’d forgotten all about the bards, cowering away unable to find their own words to explain the cataclysm they’d born witness to. Luckily, someone was on hand with their own story to spin and embellishments to boot. Your Gramps would take the credit for the win and become the most lauded man in the land. He may have told a lie, but it was a good lie; he saved me, your Grandma and Uncle Goten from a lot of trouble. Besides, his claim to heroism wasn’t a complete falsehood. He had brought me Sixteen’s wise words that allowed me to tap into a strength I never knew I had. For that, and for many, many brave deeds thereafter, your Gramps is every part the hero he’s praised to be; just not in the ways you’ve been taught.

We prepared to send Trunks off the next day, our mood sombre for the loss of your Grandpa. Unlike the Chimera’s other victims he would choose not return to us for some time, travelling beyond the veil to find new masters and secrets to bring home one day, trusting his mere absence would keep the peace - and it would, for a time. As Trunks had learnt from my counterpart, I had a learnt a lot from him in turn about what a knight could be. We would meet again, and we would come to learn his experience with us allowed him both to defeat 17 and 18 in his own time and prevent Cell from ever appearing. Seventeen and Eighteen here would awake with all of Cell’s victims, their curse now lifted and freedom granted, and would fight alongside us to defend the land in future battles, their help indispensable. Uncle Krillin’s decision to follow his gut and stay his hand that day was the right one in the end.

For many years after I’d believe my father not just spoke to me but returned in that final moment, both of us working in tandem to deliver that final blow. Of course in reality the overwhelming strength was all from me - I just needed to find the balance in myself, absorb my father’s words and have conviction, and like the boy from the future all those years ago, have hope we’d prevail.

There once was a boy called Son Gohan, and he defeated Cell.

Maybe you find it a little galling that I sent my daughter to sleep with stories like this. In truth Pan would have heard this story and others in a fragmented fashion as we adults spoke, especially given who both her grandfathers are, so having a coherent (if slightly fantastical version) was helpful for context.

For her to know the truth of the struggle was important to me, even if it meant she had to keep a big secret. She had to know the magnitude of the work we did and understand the danger, lest she romanticise the games. After the harrowing childhood I had starting at four years old I never wanted anyone to go through the same. My little brother would not escape my fate, dragged into a conflict and quite literally told at not even seven years of age he was the last line of defense for the world, possibly even the Universe. I never wanted Pan to see the horrors I and Goten hold. But I am not a fool, and since she showed interest in fighting we let her learn, encouraging and supporting her beyond mere drilling so she could keep her head should peacetime break. I kept her away from serious conflict until she was fifteen. That’s all I could manage.

Sometimes we’re thrust into situations we’d rather not be in, forcing us to act against our better nature. In those moments the greatest challenge is not the monster we’re facing but the battle within ourselves, our fear of losing our sense of self in the ensuing mess. Though I can assure you, if in those times we can hold onto hope - whether that is hope in the truth of a story we were told long ago, hope that others can do good and be good despite what circumstances say, hope in the potential of those closest to us even as their doubts rage and even gain a glimmer of hope in ourselves - well, like Bulma in the future, we can do what we believe right now to be impossible.

What I did as a child may have been impressive. It may be beyond what many full Earthlings would ever be capable of, and it may have all worked out in the end. But it is not right to hide behind the courage of children. No one who learns any of the techniques in the rest of this book is under any obligation to lay their life on the line should the world be in danger. I would however like some people to make that choice, a real choice that neither I nor my brother and daughter ever had, and as a consequence I hope my grandchildren, should I ever have any, will have that same free choice, too.

It is my hope now that, despite the difficulty and despite how impossible it sounds, you will now show that same courage to learn, to step up, to rely on your own strength - and defend the Earth.

Myself, Little Trunks and Big Trunks on the day of the latter’s departure after the Cell Games. Three pictures were taken - one for me (the image above), one for Little Trunks as a surprise for when he was older, and the third for Big Trunks, though he said he’d pass it to his mom. Because of that, I gave him the one where he had the biggest smile.

This chapter is dedicated to Android Sixteen.

“It is because we value life that we must protect it.”

next previous first contents ask?

[vipervisionsart]

I am depression

Have it, lived with it for upteenth amount of years, and only now starting to realize that the depression is but a mere symptom of a larger self-esteem to disciplinary to compulsiveness disorder.

I want a true medical diagnosis besides that of which is a blanket statement of “mood disorder” as my symptoms fit descriptions of too many disorders and no doctor has yet to commit to just one. It was bi-polar depression at first; “it’s what we believe but are not sure of” but still declined for me to be tested for it; then it’s full fledged bi-polar disorder, moving to OCD, schizophrenia, mania, until everyone decided to leave my mental health in the air with the simple blanket statement of “you definitely have A mood disorder” but we’re also not going to run any tests to be sure. Have a nice day! Don’t kill yourself next time!

Pfft. Then the American Health Care System prescribed me medications that hurt more than helped due to the lack-of research and decisiveness of my health. 

I don’t take those medications any longer and I don’t plan to. It’s been happening for as long as I can remember, when I tell my stories I always start at the climax of the events, this is the shortened but full version, I moved to the United States when I was 4 about to turn 5. Prior, I lived on a farm with my mother’s boss; whom I believe to this day she was sleeping with. She met my step-father in the Philippians, the true nature I don’t believe I’ve been truthfully told, via newspaper ad stating she was a young woman looking for a husband. My father wrote to her after seeing the ad and took her on some dates. He moved back to the states and they wrote letters to each other; he would send her money and she would send back gifts she made for him. I was told they fell in-love.

Meanwhile, I was being raised by my 7 uncles and my mom’s best friend Z, who I’ve only ever known as my auntie, a Hawaiian islander who came to the Philippians to study nursing. She would show me dancing and my uncles showed me how to work with concrete and clay. I had an uncle that would take me to the bathroom with him. My mother told me when I was 12 she saw me come out of the bathroom with him and “knew instantly” I would be a “bad child.” He was never reprimanded by my family; only by God when he died of a heart attack because of the devastating hurricane. I found solace and peace when my mother left to attend his funeral and visit her family for 6mo. 

When I first moved to the states, I wanted to be one of the American Girls I would see on TV and movies. Short skirts, tank tops, ripped leggings, a cellphone, over sized sunglasses, with long, straight, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I wanted glitter on everything and pink streaks through it all. My parents; didn’t want that for me, at first. Because I liked to play in dirt, a trait a child would pick up growing up on a farm with no toys, and attracted many boys as friends; I was a tomboy. My mom cut my hair short and bought me only boy’s clothing. I wasn’t allowed to play with my friend’s outside of school. NO. 

I was meant to clean the house when I got home, do my homework, and help my mother with whatever she wanted help with. I felt trapped all the time. I remember asking to have play dates and my parent’s always saying no. My mom would hide me away in her room if I convinced one of my friend’s parents to come over and ask my parents to let me play.

I wore overalls, baggy pants, collared shirts, capri shorts (the colored plaid ones), and sneakers up until I was about 7 years old. During this time, if I didn’t clean up my mother would beat me until I couldn’t scream anymore. If we went out in public and I didn’t stay by her side she would hold my shirt close to my neck and slowly pull it closed until my breath was shaky and I was too lightheaded to run away. I would try to tell her how I felt and she would yell at me until I didn’t want to talk anymore. I learned that speaking up is only going to end wrong for me no matter the situation, if she was involved. She would pinch me if I said anything to embarrass her in front of my father’s high society friends. I would be pinched if I said anything to irritate her in public regardless of who was around. It was always away from the eyes of the public.

She made me fear my home life. She made me fear telling the truth. She made me fear being myself. I was lucky enough to remember my auntie Z; “Someone might throw water on your fire, but never let it extinguish your flame. Burn brighter than the Sun. You are a Goddess by your own rights” and understood that even she is not enough to break me. I knew at a young age that individualism is so important, as it is what allows each human to keep living on, pushing past, and moving forward. I knew to never get stuck in a cycle I didn’t create for myself.

I begged my father to let me join the afterschool program and that he would pick me up as late into the day as possible. I was lucky that he worked a 9-5 and often picked up overtime which would mean as many hours away from my house as it could be permitted. From 7am-8pm I was free, and I took advantage of that. I ditched elementary school all the time with friends and we would take cars and steal things from stores and talk about boys, sex, drama, and our parents. My friends hated my mother more than I did. I knew she was probably a product of something more sinister. I tried to explain to my friends about the other worlds, the realms that things exist and no longer exist, and how religion and how all spiritualistics worked. I tried to explain why everyone should be wanting to push for enlightenment above all else so that we may transcend the human “death” but become creators of those in the past, present, and future.

What 10-12 year old listens to a 7 year old anyway? I picked up tarot reading.

I was almost 8 years old when I found out my mother was pregnant with my brother. I was so happy. Finally someone else. That’s when they started to switch. It wasn’t “lady-like” of me to dress the way I dressed and to play the way I played. I started getting beat for sitting in chairs incorrectly, for eating my food incorrectly, for snoring when I slept, for sleeping wildly in a shared bed, for having nightmares and waking people up, for asking questions a young lady should never ask, and for thinking that I was not responsible for grown people who pay bills tasks. I was taught to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner for myself and for the family if the family asks for it. I was taught to always clean up at the end of the day no matter how tired I am for at least 25 minutes. I was taught how to balance my mother’s checkbook and how to count money and hide it.

If I didn’t, I was beat. If I didn’t do it fast enough, I was beat. If things went missing in the house, even if they didn’t belong to me and I had nothing to do with it, I was blamed... and then I was beat. She would take bamboo sticks to my legs and elbows, for proper posture, stance, and gait. I would endure hangers; plastic, wooden, and metal, even past the point of breaking them (which caused a lot of scarring on my thighs, stomach, and hips) if my speed and white-gloved-finger-sweep across the wood wasn’t up to par. I would get the belt, the paddle, and the whip if I didn’t understand the task given to me or if I didn’t do it properly. From 8 years old until 12 years old I was repeatedly asked to take care of my brother, cook, and clean or else I would get beat. My beatings were from 3/4 times a week to 3/4 times a day. It depended on the levels of stress she was under. Though she created it all to begin with, but I’ll digress.

I started sneaking out when I was 9. I would meet my friends and we would go off to one of their houses and talk. We all acted like we weren’t getting treated the same at home. Well, I know for a fact one of my closest friends at the time, a Gemini from Louisiana, knew exactly what I was going through. We had a heart to heart where she shared her personal traumas and I shared mine. We became really close. 

I started realizing my dad wasn’t one for confrontation. I realized he was so non-confrontational, I snuck out of school and went to my house with some friends and he came home early and saw us; he didn’t care as long as we stayed out of his way. That’s when I started realizing the type of woman my mother was and how her raising me affected me. She’d been manipulating him this whole time. She got whatever she wanted and I would get whatever I wanted if I went to him directly. I started getting closer to my dad and his side of the family because they were givers. My mother and I are takers.  

She began to realize that I was smart. So she locked me away. She tried to keep me from my father. She created a false sexual assault allegation against him and moved me in with an elderly couple from church. She wanted me to lie to the police and tell them he had been touching me. I didn’t. It made her really mad so she stopped letting me go to the bathroom and would have me sit in her car until I had to piss or defecate myself. I pissed myself in the front yard of the elderly couple’s home while they watched. They got mad and kicked us out. I didn’t know at the time that a private investigator my dad hired to clear his reputation and prove his innocence was also watching. He had evidence to believe that it was actually my other parent that was abusing me. 

It was then that I held some power but my father showed the police all the things he bought me and all the pictures we took of us having a good time and they believed I had a great home life. I begged and pleaded with so many officers to look at the scars on my body because they are all because of my mother. My father is innocent, yes, but my mother is not please take her away or I’ll die!! My first suicide attempt was at 9 years old.

I started cutting myself. I died my hair and wore all black and joined the 2010 scene-kid scene. I wanted to fit in and belong. I started starving myself and forcing toothbrushes, school spoon-forks, and my fingers down my throat whenever I ate. I started to internalize all of the abuse. My second suicide attempt was 3 months after. I then turned 10 years old.

I attempted suicide 4 more times before I was sent to live in a group home for a year and a half. I wanted nothing more than to be home but all of the internalized trauma really did a number on me. I was acting out and rash and I would destroy things and become violent when angered. It was always toward my family, I never acted this way outside of it. Hm. Wonder why.

When I came back from the group home, my dad had my mom moved out and that’s when I found peace. I didn’t act out as much. I started middle school and for the first time ever I had community. I made life-long friends in middle school. This is where I like to say I truly began life. My trauma was a thing of the past. Until my mother decided she still had a say in my life and what I chose to do and I relapsed all over again. 

I started using drugs. I became a scholarly drug addict. I felt like I had something to prove but a whole lot of fucks not to give to anything else. It was humiliating, in retrospect. I started using heavy. My first OD was my sophomore year in highschool. My second OD was the summer before Junior year. My third OD was 2 months before Junior year ended. My last OD was February 14, 2019. I graduated highschool in May 2018. 

I moved out of the house when I turned 18 in 2017. I moved to the other half of California where I would be rid of my mother and her meddlesome ways. Through all that time, I still had forgiveness in my heart and gave her many chances to show me growth but all it showed me was her stagnation, inability to change, and her simple presence being nothing but a trigger for me. I still didn’t act out. As a direct result of my trauma, I can become extremely verbally abusive when aggravated and, when pushed passed the point of anger, extremely destructive. I tried to explain that to my abusers, whom continue to refuse to understand and continue to subject me to mental abuse on a daily basis since having to move back in with her after the trauma that was my ex.

When one of my life-long friends that I met in middleschool started unveiling the verbally abusive side of me, I had to sit her down and speak with her from my heart to let her know none of it is her fault. That it is a result of a trauma still left to be processed within me and to listen to my warning signs so she might not have to face the hurling bullet that is my mouth. Since that day, she understands and we have never faced a disagreement that turned sour ever again. It is simple once you understand the person.

In March of 2019, a month after declaring my personal war on drugs and staying clean, I fell in love with my ex. We were fine for a while. Then I started receiving boatloads of gaslighting and mental abuse on my psyche. I started acting out shortly after moving in with him. It was unsightly. It was embarrassing. I thought I had a lot more control over myself but I didn’t; I couldn’t have! We were getting into physical altercations and verbal abuse showdowns and it wasn’t doing either of us any good. We were both broken. 

I moved out and sought after more peace within myself. Thinking this whole time I had been the abusive one when (while it is still the case) my abuse was a direct result of the abuse I endured. It always has been. Though how I reacted is still not right, it’s not right to pretend that I am the only person who needs to take the blame.

When a child acts out due to a bad home life, a teacher will recognize that and give the child an outlet to use at school. When an adult in a toxic relationship acts out, a good friend will recognize that and give the adult the advice or push or drive they need to free themselves and find a better outlet. I find that my trauma has a tendency to make me relieve the desperation and sadness that I once felt many years ago, on the same days that I was most desperate and most sad. I find that my trauma has a tendency to manifest in obsessive and compulsive thoughts. I find that my trauma has a tendency to be skeptical of all and every one and thing. I find that my trauma has shaped me to be the person I am today and while there are many things I will be taking and learning from my trauma; the homemaker, the tomboy, the forgiveness, and the perfectionist, there are still things I am working to be rid of; the skepticism, the compulsiveness, the abuser that is my tongue, and the violence. 

I make clear to anyone that comes into my life and wishes to be close with me that I have these things to work on and to heed my warning signs lest they wish to be caught in my hurricane. I hope that one day I don’t have to give a warning for myself anymore. 

[kdkathryn]

before sunrise and psychology

attempting to fit some of jesse and celine’s conversations from before sunrise into arthur aron’s question set for accelerating intimacy between 2 strangers. (remember how someone tried this out in real life, and wrote about it in the new york times?). i’ve put in some quotes that don’t don’t directly answer the prompts, but i think they hit at the heart of them anyway. before sunset version to follow eventually, hopefully.

Set I

1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

4. What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?

5. When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

6. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?

7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die? Celine: I think I'm afraid of death 24 hours a day. I swear. I mean, that's why I'm in a train right now. I could have flown to Paris, but I'm too scared...When I'm in a plane, I can see it. I can see the explosion. I can see me falling through the clouds, and I'm so scared of those few seconds of consciousness before you're gonna die.

8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

9. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be? Celine: But you know what, if your parents never really fully contradict you about anything, and like are basically nice, and supportive, it makes it even harder to officially complain. You know, even when they're wrong, it's this, it's this passive-aggressive shit, you know what I mean, it's...I hate it, I really hate it.

Jesse: Well, you know, despite all that kind of bullshit that comes along with it, I remember childhood as this, you know, this magical time.

11. Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible. Celine: You know, my parents never really spoke about the possibility of my falling in love, or getting married, or having children. Even as a little girl, they wanted me to think of a future career, as an interior designer or a lawyer or something. I’d say to my dad, “I want to be a writer,” and he’d say, “journalist.” I’d say I wanted to have a refuge for stray cats, and he’d say, “veterinarian.” I’d say I wanted to be an actress, and he’d say, “TV newscaster.” It was this constant conversion of my fanciful ambition into these practical, money-making ventures.

Jesse: I always had a pretty good bullshit detector when I was a kid. I always knew when they were lying to me, you know. By the time I was in high school, I was dead set on listening to what everybody thought I should be doing with my life, and just kind of doing just the opposite.

12. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

Set II

13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?

14. Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

16. What do you value most in a friendship?

17. What is your most treasured memory? Jesse: My great-grandmother had just died, and my whole family had just visited them in Florida. I was about 3, 3 and a half years old. Anyway, I was in the backyard, playing, and my sister had just taught me how to take the garden hose, and do it in such a way that you could spray it into the sun, and you could make a rainbow. And so I was doing that, and through the mist I could see my grandmother. And she was just standing there, smiling at me. And then I held it there, for a long time, and I looked at her. And then finally, I let go of the nozzle, you know, and then I dropped the hose, and she disappeared. And so I went back inside, and I tell my parents, you know. And they sit me down give me big rap on how when people die you never see them again, and how I'd imagined it. But I knew what I'd seen. And I was just glad that I saw that.

18. What is your most terrible memory?

19. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why? Celine: Everything is so finite. Jesse: But don’t you think that’s what makes our time and specific moments so important?

20. What does friendship mean to you?

21. What roles do love and affection play in your life? Celine: I think I can really fall in love when I know everything about someone. The way he’s going to part his hair, which shirt he’s going to wear that day, knowing the exact story he’d tell in a given situation.

Jesse: Love is a complex issue...I mean, yes, I had told somebody that I love them before, and I had meant it. Was it totally a totally unselfish, giving love? Was it a beautiful thing? Not really, you know.

22. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items. imaginary telephone conversation:

Céline: He has beautiful blue eyes, nice big lips, greasy hair, I love it. He's kind of tall, and a little clumsy. I like to feel his eyes on me when I look away. He kind of kisses like an adolescent, its so cute. Yeah, we kissed. It was so adorable. As the night went on, I began to like him more and more.

Jesse: You know how they say we're all each others' demons and angels? Well, she was literally a Botticelli angel. Just telling me that everything was gonna be okay...She was sitting next to this very weird couple who started fighting so she had to move. She sat right across the aisle from me. So we started to talk, and she didn't like me much at first. She's super smart, very passionate, um... and beautiful. And I was so unsure of myself. I thought everything I said sounded so stupid.

23. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s? Celine: I really can't complain about anything. You know, [my parents] love me more than anything in the world, and I have been raised with all the freedom they had fought for. And yet for me now, it's another type of fight. We still have to deal with the same old shit, but we can't really know who, or you know, what the enemy is.

Jesse: Everybody’s parents fucked them up. Rich kids’ parents gave them too much. Poor kids’, not enough. You know, too much attention, not enough attention. They either left them or they stuck around and taught them the wrong things. I mean, my parents are just these two people who didn't like each other very much, who decided to get married and have a kid, and the try their best to be nice to me.

24. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother? Jesse: I remember my mother once. She told me, right in front of my father, they were having this big fight, that he didn't really want to have me, you know, that he was really pissed off when he found out that she was pregnant with me, you know, that I was this big mistake. And I think that really shaped the way I think. I always saw the world as this place where I really wasn't meant to be.

Céline: I think [I’m close with my grandmother] because I always... I always have this strange feeling that I am this very old woman laying down about to die. You know, that my life is just her memories, or something.

Set III

25. Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling ...”

26. Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share ...” Celine: So often in my life, I have been with people or shared beautiful moments like traveling or staying up all night and watching the sunrise. And I knew those were special moments, but something was always wrong. I wish I’d been with someone else. I knew that what I was feeling, exactly what was so important to me, they didn’t understand. But I’m happy to be with you.

27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know. Celine: I told him the story about the woman that kills her ex-boyfriend, and stuff. He must be scared to death. He must be thinking I'm this manipulative, mean woman. I just hope he doesn't feel that way about me, because you know me, I'm the most harmless person. The only person I could really hurt is myself.

28. Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met. see #22

29. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life. Jesse, on his recent breakup: I didn’t want to see anybody I knew. I just wanted to be a ghost. Completely anonymous.

30. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself? not crying, but #29

31. Tell your partner something that you like about them already. Celine (telephone conversation): We were in the lounge car, and he began to talk about him as a little boy, seeing his great-grandmother’s ghost. I think that’s when I feel for him. Just the idea of this little boy with all those beautiful dreams. He trapped me.

32. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about? Céline: I... I kind of didn't really like this reaction back at the palm reader. You were like this rooster prick...You were like a little boy whining because all the attention wasn't focused on him.

33. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet? Jesse: If somebody gave me the choice right now of to never see you again or to marry you, I would marry you. And maybe that’s a lot of romantic bullshit, but people have gotten married for a lot less.

34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

35. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why? Celine: I used to think that if none of your family or friends knew you were dead, it was like not really being dead. People can invent the best and the worst for you.

[she discusses the death of her grandmother in Before Sunset]

36. Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.

[dudence-blog]

Dear Dudence for 17 October 2017

For a little spice in your life go with a Bloody Maria.  Just swap out the vodka for tequila.  And it's only day drinking if you stopped.  Can't stop! Won't Stop!  With that useful advice on to answering questions people asked of someone else!  Shoot an email to AskDearDudence@gmail.com or reach me on Facebook!

I feel like I’m going to be the downer in this group of questions… I don’t know how to deal with #MeToo as a rape survivor. I’m feeling triggered and angry. Social media is a big part of my job, so I can’t just turn it off all day, but I’m not sure what to do. I keep finding myself going to the bathroom and sobbing. My boss posted on our Facebook page about how “proud” he was of all the women who’ve been sharing their stories and I almost lost it. I haven’t talked to many people about what happened to me, including several members of my family, and I don’t want to “come out” as a survivor through a hashtag. At the same time, I really want to respond. I want to tell people that survivors don’t owe them their stories. I don’t want people to come away from this display of mutual pain and think that by posting a hashtag, they’ve done enough.

Dear Dealing with #MeToo as a Survivor, it hasn’t been reduced to a hashtag so it can trend on social media, it can also be used as a cudgel against people who don’t genuflect enough or in the correct manner.  You don’t have to out yourself as someone who has been raped to complain about the lazy nature of hashtag activism or question the sincerity of folks pretending to be surprised that sexual assault is a crime women disproportionately impacting women.  Getting furious about other people’s benign messages of support is probably not healthy, but it is what it is.  That you have suffered a traumatic experience and feel it is better for yourself to not make is public doesn’t mean it’s the same for others.  Your boss has expressed some solidarity with victims so it might be worth mentioning to him that, while this campaign is trending, it is difficult for you to work this part of your job.

I live in one of the areas of the country that was significantly affected by the recent natural disasters that hit over the past month or so. (Hurricane, flood, fire etc.) Although I used to really enjoy this column, I now find myself reading the questions and feeling extremely angry, as I don't think that the issue of whether or not someone may or may not have said something mean to a coworker qualifies as a real problem when I personally have no power, have to stand in line for hours to buy food, and had to send our son to my parents house to live so he could attend school since our home was severely damaged. I just want to tell people to get over themselves and be happy and grateful that the only problems they are facing are those. They have food, water, and a warm and dry place to sleep. Everything else is really meaningless.

Dear Who Really has a Problem, step away.  When dealing with a tragedy or a disaster some people crave any return to normalcy or an opportunity to spend some time not thinking about how tough their situation currently is.  Clearly that is not what you're getting from this.  It doesn't mean that won't return, but it's not a thing for you right now.  And while "how do I keep kids from attending my party?" is far more First World Problem than "I have no clean drinking water", it is an important question to the person asking.  Life can be hard enough without needing to turn it into a tragedy competition to determine just who has it worse.  Due to unfortunate circumstances, I’ve recently attended a number of wakes. Am I obligated to kneel before the casket and say a brief prayer? I’d been taught that this was the “polite” thing to do, but it feels disingenuous now that I no longer subscribe to any religion. I’m sure the grievers don’t notice or care either way, but should I continue to fake pray?

Dear Wake Etiquette, you're not obligated to pray.  If part of the wake involves filing by the casket to pay your respects it is polite to go with the crowd, pause at the casket, and have a moment.  Whether you spend that moment praying for the eternal salvation of the deceased, hoping the surviving family can find strength or comfort in this difficult time, or to wonder if you can make it home in time to catch the latest Game of Thrones before it gets spoiled online is up to you.  I supposed you could go up to the casket and loudly proclaim that, as an enlightened atheist, you refuse to partake in this silly superstition.  I'm sure that would go over well too.

My girlfriend recently bought a vibrator for us to use together. We're both women if that matters. However, it's been a couple months since and we haven't used it together once. We have had sex several times, but once we were in bed and I suggested we use it and she said it had dead batteries. My question is, should it upset me or worry me that she is clearly using it on her own time?

Dear Should I be Concerned, define “recently”.  If she burned through a set of fresh batteries in two months y’all need to get some better batteries.  Unless you’ve got one of those fancy-pants ones which have an internal battery, and if that’s the case make sure you check that it’s been plugged in before y’all get to your banging.  That being said let’s go ahead and slow your roll high speed; just because she’s (Googles "female equivalent to jacking off", loses 10 hours to Urban Dictionary and all faith in humanity) jilling off without you doesn’t mean she’s going to be cheating on you.  Heck, just because she didn’t want to use a certain vibrator with you doesn’t mean she’s going to be cheating on you; maybe the idea sounded better when she had it and she realized it wasn’t something she wanted to do?  That she wants to occasionally self-bang doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to have sex with you too.  Talk with her about what you want and how you’d like her to give it to you.

I am a 45 year old woman struggling with several issues. I have returned to dating as a middle aged woman. The men I meet are manipulative and tend to dump me after a few weeks. I also drink more than I should (3 to 5 glasses of wine, nightly). As if that is not bad enough, I spend a couple hours a day on dating and kink websites. I feel lost. I started seeing a therapist five months ago. This was after being "ghosted" by a man who was married. I was very hurt at the time. It felt good to vent to the therapist. However, now, after months of weekly appointments, I feel like therapy is worthless.

Dear Too Nice Therapist, you’re being dumped after a few weeks by men you via dating and kink websites?   I’m shocked.  If you’ve spent half a year seeing a therapist weekly and you’re feeling like it isn’t helping you (it’s certainly not worthless; the therapist has been well-compensated) then please, go and find another one.  But I do have to ask, have you addressed your feelings of not making progress with your therapist?  Because a therapist isn't going to be able to make you choose better men; they might help you understand why you keep picking up men who get what they want and move on, but it's still choices you're making. 

My ex husband and I split up over 5 years ago. My daughter was just turning 4 and had a difficult time, but I did everything I could to make the transition easy.  We never did anything "officially", and although her father was horrible to me, he was an excellent dad and I supported them seeing each other every chance they could. In the beginning he would only take her for a few hours some days and overnights occasionally in an effort to limit any social life I could develop. As years passed, he finally met someone and stopped using her as a means to control me. Once he started dating this person, we developed a clear schedule of when she would stay over at his house.

Dear Daughter Dislikes Stepmom, wait, you mean you had a court bless off on a divorce where the child custody agreement is “We’ll wing it”?  Seriously?  Nevermind, I’m getting wrapped around the axle on a tertiary issue.  Let’s go ahead and ignore what your mother wants in this; she’s not helping.  In the absence of a child custody agreement specifying who gets your child when (again, seriously?) I’m thinking this is something your daughter, your ex, and you need to hash out.  Your daughter is 9, she deserves some say in how her life goes; it doesn’t mean what she wants goes, but she gets a say.  It might be that she needs a temporary respite from staying with your ex and Trish.  Your daughter is getting older and just because she’s well-adjusted doesn’t mean she can be feeling some emotions about being with the woman her father prefers over her mom.  Trish might not like the reminder of a previous relationship.  It probably is frustrating to your ex that the child he loves views nights spent with him as a reason for tears.  An advantage of revisiting your custody agreement and including your daughter is it gives her some control over her life, which helps with her buying into the agreement, which helps her adjust to and accept the change.

I am a college aged woman who recently got out of an almost year long polyamorous relationship with another woman and a man (they were pre-involved for years). It was a spectacularly awful breakup. At the moment, the male partner and I are dating but the other woman is out due to attempted physical assault and anger issues (yes, she's been to therapy but stopped). Frankly, there are oodles and oodles of more backstory I could provide but the long and short is I just found out from my male partner that her mysterious internet job is in fact camming. She became a camgirl shortly before she and I met, withheld that information from me purposefully, and is now very popular and ridiculously financially successful.

Dear Unintended Revelations, does she now drive a brand new Nissan Altima?  A polyamorous relationship between a trio of college-aged people exploded in a spectacular way?  NO WAY!  Totally did not see that coming.  You were with her for less than a year, had no idea what she did, and she didn’t didn’t make an effort to see you for 25% of the time you were together?  Yeah, I think it’s fair to say she was putting more effort into being a camgirl than she was into your relationship.  To answer your question about where you go now I’d say you need to move on.  You are going to get none of the validation you think you’re owed by confronting your ex for her perceived slights.  Although. since you found out about her occupation through your boyfriend, her ex-boyfriend, I'll bet confronting her about her infidelity and demanding an explanation or apology will go swimmingly. 

[chocobutternutnuttychoco]

Maybe I am “too much” but I just can’t be anything else. My 18 years of existence here on earth is absolutely one hell of a roller coaster ride. Looking back to the person who I’ve been before and seeing the person who I’ve become today makes me feel so much emotions.

18 years ago, a girl named Tricia Kaye was born. Her family was expecting for a baby boy but a baby girl was given to them – a healthy baby girl who stayed almost 2 weeks longer than the expected due date. My parents used to tell me how happy they were when they saw me. They always tell me how “spoiled” I am because I am their first child – even my grandparents were so delighted. They used to call me the apple of the family, very charming and easy to handle. I can clearly see that at this stage of my life, I developed trust because my family raised me with a good foundation and environment. They sustained all my needs. I may not remember how my family treated me way back then but based on their stories they treated me the best that they could and everyone was there helping me to slowly adjust to the reality of this world. They made me feel that they’re always there for me – each one of them. 

  At an early age, I’ve experienced one of the greatest miseries of life. When I was 3 years old, we went to Laguna to attend the Summer Outing of my Father. As a bubbly and very playful little child I explored the vicinity of the place and I was so amazed with everything that I saw – little did I know that it almost led me to death. While I was walking at the pavement above the pool I accidentally slipped and fell on the pool, luckily my father’s co-worker was there and he rescued me immediately. I can clearly remember this scenario because my parents always remind me how worried they felt during this time.

Growing in a small but loving and supportive family helped me to develop autonomy. I can remember how my parents let me order foods that I want at Jollibee or pick the dress that I am comfortable with. They told me that I am indeed a very “bibo” kid way back then. I entered kindergarten at an early age because my older cousin doesn’t want to go to school without me that’s why I attended kindergarten thrice.

Growing up without a sibling and surrounded by very supported family made me felt so loved and appreciated at all time. I felt that I got all the attention of the people around me and it makes me more confident with the things that I do. When I was 4 years old, my younger sibling was born. The memory of me crying in our garden is still very very clear. I kept on telling my cousins how sad I am because my younger sibling will take away all the attention that I have. With that thought in my mind, my family and other people around me made me feel the other way around – they still treated me the same way. I started attending kindergarten as a regular student and not just to accompany my cousin. My parents used to tell me how active I am at school. They told me how fond I am into participating in different contests and activities at our day care center. I am that cute little child at kindergarten who loves to share her “baon” to her friends and easy to get along with – who always have initiative and very confident at making decisions at an early age.

At this point of my life, I developed industry but later on turned into inferiority. I can say that this was the turning point of my life – something that broke me and maybe the reason why I became who I am today. I entered an International school when I was 6 years old for preparatory classes. Being the active and sociable kid, I got awards at school like “most participative”, “most active”, and “most active” for three years. It is where I met my best friend – who’s still my best friend until today. My three years stay at that school was probably the peak of my childhood and maybe the turning point of my life. At an early age, I learned how to manipulate my emotions and hide how I feel. I can remember how my mother used to compare me to my cousins and my younger sibling – may it be because of my physical appearance or the way how I act. I can remember my self being hit by my mother every time she gets mad. I can remember crying myself to sleep because my mother was very angry. I can remember myself walking away from home and going to my aunt’s house to seek for comfort. I can remember myself standing in front of the wake of my grandfather and tears were streaming down on my face - “Wala na akong kakampi, Lo.” At an early age I felt all this kind of pain but I learned to control my emotions and at least tried to still be as active and as participative as I can be at school – at least I tried until 3rd grade. On my 4th grade I need to transfer school because my sister will also be studying and my parents can’t support the both of us if we will be studying at an international school – I transferred at a catholic school which is way cheaper than my previous. Having an advanced educational system for my previous grade level helped me to excel at my new school. My mother still treated me the same way – always hitting me with stick or scolding me whenever I failed to accomplish the things she wanted me to do or comparing me to other people. But being smart or excelling never stopped that bullies from bullying me – I experienced verbal bullying when I was on my 4th and 5th grade. This is when I started to be inferior, I was so afraid to try new things or to even talk to other people. I became so insecure and started comparing myself to other people and doubting my capabilities. It felt like the personality that I built during the earlier time was taken away from me. These experiences made me realize that it should not affect me and I should prove them wrong. I tried my best to get back on track – to excel again. I tried harder and kept on praying that I’ll make it to be part of the first section so that I’ll be far from those bullies and start a fresh start. On my 6th grade I reached the quota and was transferred to the first section. The section where I met the most amazing people who brought back the person who I was. 

  It has been indeed a hell of a roller coaster ride. After my 6th grade I became less active at school and I just became a “happy-go-lucky” student. I stopped trying to prove myself to others especially to my mother because I realized that no matter how much I try; I will always be compared to others. Luckily, I met people who made me feel loved and appreciated, who accepted me whole heartedly. But as time passes by, I realized that I am still lost – I kept on wondering on the road wherein I don’t know where it’ll lead me. I felt so lost that I barely know who I am and what I’m becoming. I thought that life is all about making friends with a lot of people. I thought I’ll find the meaning of my life when I get along with different people but I realized that it was the reason why I lost myself. I tried adjusting to the conformity of others.

On my 9th grade, I became friends these amazing people – the people who used to hate me and bash me because they don’t like my personality, but these people also changed me and made me realize who I really am and what I really want to do. This is when I started to trust my self again and believe that I can do things if I really want to and if I work hard for it. We parted ways when we entered senior high school and we’re not that close like how we used to be but the things that they made me realized stayed in my heart and became my foundation to have a fresh start and rebuild myself. I considered my senior high my restart button. I stopped expecting the people around me to like me back and settle with the people who I know I can really rely on. My junior high school classmates became my senior high school family – my refuge. They’ve seen how I tried to walk away from my comfort zone and how I tried to explore new things. They’ve seen how I became independent. They’ve seen me at my worst and at my best but they all chose to stay until the end. 

Aside from them, I met new people who helped me realize that I can do more if I strive more. They taught me that I should never settle for less and life is worth exploring. These people served as my light and guide at my darkest times.

As the time passes by, I settled my issues with my family and they stopped comparing me to others. They’ve seen how I strive hard so that I can make them proud. They’re my source of strength and I offered them all the things that I do. Maybe they doubted me countless of times but I made them realize that I can make my on ways to make them proud. And I am beyond grateful because they are my family. They’ve been supporting me ever since we settled everything.

Lastly, these two people never failed to made me realize how wonderful life is – my 12 years best friend and my father. They’re always by my side supporting me with all the things that I do and cheering me up whenever things are not happening the way how I wanted it to be. These two have the most significant role in my life and they’ve become part on how I realized who I really am.

Maybe I am “too much” but I just can’t be anything else. As I enter college, I am bringing all these experiences and memories. Good or bad, it all taught me to become a better person and to appreciate the tinniest thing life could offer. Maybe I carry too much, I’ve been through a lot but I know all these things will lead me to the better path and it’ll all be worth it in the end. Life is full of risks and pain and if you’re afraid to take a risk or if you always make a way to avoid a pain, you’re missing out the greatest thing life could offer.

[leticia7-blog1]

When I was 5, I sat on the edge of my chair with my legs spread. I felt an itch between them, so I reached down to scratch, but my grandma grabbed my wrist to stop me and hissed: “Girls don’t do that!” I asked her why, because I had seen my father doing it, I had seen all the boys in primary school doing it, too. And it itched and I wanted to scratch it. Her answer was: “It’s just how it is. Girls don’t do that. Also, don’t sit there with your legs spread like that. Girls don’t do that, either.” When I was 6, I spent a day on the beach with my family. I was excited about the new bikini my mum got me, but confused as to why she asked me to keep the top on when I went for a swim. She hadn’t made me wear it the years before, but suddenly, she was very fussy about it. “Look, I’ve got one on, too.”, she said to me. And I thought I understood: Women had to cover their breasts, because they were bigger than mens’. But I wasn’t a woman. I was a child. Later, I overheard a talk she had with my dad. “I don’t want old men to stare at her.”, she whispered. I interrupted them and asked her why she thought old men would look at me. Her answer was: “It’s just how it is. It’s because you’re a girl. And men do that.” When I was 9, I got in a fight with my best friend. I went home and complained about it to my grandma, who lived with us. She told me I should have seen it coming. “That’s how girls are.”, she said. “A friendship between girls is always also a competition. Girls are jealous, manipulative and backstabbing. You can’t trust them.” But I had never fought with my best friend before and I knew we’d forgive and forget the next day, anyway. So, I asked my grandma why, and her answer was: “It’s just how it is. Catfights will happen. It’s normal. That’s how girls are.” When I was 13, I fell in love with a boy from the neighbourhood. I couldn’t hide my excitement. He was on my mind all the time and I caught myself wishing we were together, so I could hold his hand and kiss him, too. I wanted to meet him, get to know him better, and I told my dad about my plan of asking him out. “Don’t do that.”, my dad said. “It’s not appropriate for a girl to ask a boy out.” Though I partly agreed, since I had never seen a woman proposing to the man in a movie, or read about a girl kissing her crush first, I still didn’t understand what would be so bad about being an exception, so I asked my dad why I had to wait for a boy to show interest in me in order to be allowed to openly requite it. His answer was: “It’s just how it is, darling. The man makes the first move. It’s always been this way. Boys like to conquer, and girls love being chased.” When I was 17, I was part of a large group of friends. There was a boy who fancied me. I didn’t like him back, but I wasn’t used to anyone crushing on me, so I enjoyed the attention. He’d always tell me I was special. One of a kind. Different. “You’re not like other girls.”, he said. “You’re not a bitch. You’re funny, laid back, intelligent. You don’t just care about your nails or your hair. You get my sense of humour. You’re not like most girls. You’re my best guy friend. But with tits.” I was flattered in the beginning, but soon, I started to wonder if his compliments were any at all. I began to feel disgusted with him. I didn’t want to be his best guy friend with tits. So I asked him what’s so good about a girl like me, a girl unlike what he called a typical one, and his answer was: “That’s easy to explain. A pretty model type of girl is good enough to jack off to, but in the end, a guy wants some drama free pussy. You’re an exception. The majority of girls is superficial and slutty. The kind of girl you fuck, but dump when you’re ready to settle down. Or they’re just plain boring and prude. This sounds harsh, but it’s just how it is.” When I was 19, there was a boy I regularly had sex with. It was nice. Not the breathtaking kind of passionate, ecstatic fucking I had dreamed of; maybe we lacked chemistry, maybe it would have been nicer if we had been in love; but I was alright with it. I adapted, obeyed and swallowed. Of course I did. In the beginning, he really put an effort in giving me what I gave him. He really tried. But his attempts at putting his tongue to good work quickly faded into halfheartedly rubbing me dry and at some point, he said: “I’m giving up.” I asked him why. His answer was: “It’s so hard to get a girl off. You women need ages to cum. It’s so exhausting.” I laughed and told him I needed about two minutes when I did it on my own. “Then stick to that.”, he said. “I’ve got a cramp in my wrist. Women are so complicated. It’s just how it is. I’m sorry.” I am 20 now, and I’ve come to realize that my female identity has been shaped by a biased, hypocritical excuse based on ridiculous gender roles: “It’s just how it is.” All my life, I have asked them why, and all they said was “It’s just how it is.” And it didn’t matter whether I’ve asked men or women. Internalized misogyny is just as harmful. There were as many women as men who said: “It’s just how it is.” But that is not the answer I wanted. Not the answer I needed. These few words don’t fucking answer the countless questions concerning my gender identity. Why can’t I sit with my legs spread? What’s so shameful about what I keep between them? Why must I cover my breasts? Why am I being sexualized long before I’m even told when sex is? Why am I being taught to mistrust other girls? Why do I have to compete with other girls? Why am I only a good girl when I’m not like most girls? Why do I have to keep quiet about the way I feel? Why am I not allowed to show affection like men do? Can’t I conquer a boy’s heart, too? Why must love be about conquering, anyway? What if I don’t like being chased? What if it scares me? Why do boys scare me, anyway? Why do you make me feel inferior to them? And why do I have to like a boy in order to be liked? Why am I being shamed for being a “slut”, them shamed for being “prude”? Why am I expected to adapt, obey and swallow without praise when boys who return the favour are considered grateful, dedicated lovers, heroes, almost ,because to the majority of them, it’s not fucking understood that if I make them cum, they should make me cum, too? Why am I exhausting to be with? Why am I complicated? Is it because I’m a bitch? Because I’m an oversensitive little baby? Is it because I’m a slut? A prude virgin? Is it because I’m on my period? Cause women are just crazy? Cause I am jealous, manipulative, backstabbing, competitive or any of the other countless negative traits that are immediately connected with the female identity? All summed up, is it because I’m a girl? I’ve asked them. And they said yes. And when I asked “But why?”, they said it again: “It’s just how it is.” “It” is that context, is a never ending circle of resigning acceptance of the circumstance that girls are being raised to disrespect their own gender from their childhood on. I was, and am, expected to accept the fact that being female automatically makes me inferior, and that I should be thankful for being treated equally, because that’s not the standard. I was, and am, expected to appreciate and take it as a compliment when people tell me that I’m not like other women. Because I was, and am, expected to look down on women even though I am a woman myself. But I refuse. I refuse to adapt, obey and swallow. I refuse to accept that “it’s just how it is”. I refuse to take this as an answer, and I will not stop asking why. I won’t ever stop asking why. Not because I want people to give me a proper response, but because I want them to question themselves, too. I want them to start wondering. Want them to start doubting the concept of the role I’ve learned to stick to before I knew how to spell my “typically female” name. I want them to think about it, lose their sleep about it, until they ask, too: “Why?” In order to eliminate misogynic stereotypes, we must unlearn to understand them. We must refuse to accept “It’s just how it is” as an answer, until we forget what “it” stands for. Keep asking why, until nobody knows an answer anymore. “It’s just how it is” is not an answer. Neither is “It’s cause you’re a girl”. Or “That’s how girls are”. Because girls can be everything and anything they want to be. That’s how it really is. —Mia Morgan, I REFUSE! A rant on how my female identity has been shaped by excuses and lies artwork by Andrea Mendez

[wannabc]

When I was 5, I sat on the edge of my chair with my legs spread. I felt an itch between them, so I reached down to scratch, but my grandma grabbed my wrist to stop me and hissed: "Girls don't do that!" I asked her why, because I had seen my father doing it, I had seen all the boys in primary school doing it, too. And it itched and I wanted to scratch it. Her answer was: "It's just how it is. Girls don't do that. Also, don't sit there with your legs spread like that. Girls don't do that, either." When I was 6, I spent a day on the beach with my family. I was excited about the new bikini my mum got me, but confused as to why she asked me to keep the top on when I went for a swim. She hadn't made me wear it the years before, but suddenly, she was very fussy about it. "Look, I've got one on, too.", she said to me. And I thought I understood: Women had to cover their breasts, because they were bigger than mens'. But I wasn't a woman. I was a child. Later, I overheard a talk she had with my dad. "I don't want old men to stare at her.", she whispered. I interrupted them and asked her why she thought old men would look at me. Her answer was: "It's just how it is. It's because you're a girl. And men do that." When I was 9, I got in a fight with my best friend. I went home and complained about it to my grandma, who lived with us. She told me I should have seen it coming. "That's how girls are.", she said. "A friendship between girls is always also a competition. Girls are jealous, manipulative and backstabbing. You can't trust them." But I had never fought with my best friend before and I knew we'd forgive and forget the next day, anyway. So, I asked my grandma why, and her answer was: "It's just how it is. Catfights will happen. It's normal. That's how girls are." When I was 13, I fell in love with a boy from the neighbourhood. I couldn't hide my excitement. He was on my mind all the time and I caught myself wishing we were together, so I could hold his hand and kiss him, too. I wanted to meet him, get to know him better, and I told my dad about my plan of asking him out. "Don't do that.", my dad said. "It's not appropriate for a girl to ask a boy out." Though I partly agreed, since I had never seen a woman proposing to the man in a movie, or read about a girl kissing her crush first, I still didn't understand what would be so bad about being an exception, so I asked my dad why I had to wait for a boy to show interest in me in order to be allowed to openly requite it. His answer was: "It's just how it is, darling. The man makes the first move. It's always been this way. Boys like to conquer, and girls love being chased." When I was 17, I was part of a large group of friends. There was a boy who fancied me. I didn't like him back, but I wasn't used to anyone crushing on me, so I enjoyed the attention. He'd always tell me I was special. One of a kind. Different. "You're not like other girls.", he said. "You're not a bitch. You're funny, laid back, intelligent. You don't just care about your nails or your hair. You get my sense of humour. You're not like most girls. You're my best guy friend. But with tits." I was flattered in the beginning, but soon, I started to wonder if his compliments were any at all. I began to feel disgusted with him. I didn't want to be his best guy friend with tits. So I asked him what's so good about a girl like me, a girl unlike what he called a typical one, and his answer was: "That's easy to explain. A pretty model type of girl is good enough to jack off to, but in the end, a guy wants some drama free pussy. You're an exception. The majority of girls is superficial and slutty. The kind of girl you fuck, but dump when you're ready to settle down. Or they're just plain boring and prude. This sounds harsh, but it's just how it is." When I was 19, there was a boy I regularly had sex with. It was nice. Not the breathtaking kind of passionate, ecstatic fucking I had dreamed of; maybe we lacked chemistry, maybe it would have been nicer if we had been in love; but I was alright with it. I adapted, obeyed and swallowed. Of course I did. In the beginning, he really put an effort in giving me what I gave him. He really tried. But his attempts at putting his tongue to good work quickly faded into halfheartedly rubbing me dry and at some point, he said: "I'm giving up." I asked him why. His answer was: "It's so hard to get a girl off. You women need ages to cum. It's so exhausting." I laughed and told him I needed about two minutes when I did it on my own. "Then stick to that.", he said. "I've got a cramp in my wrist. Women are so complicated. It's just how it is. I'm sorry." I am 20 now, and I've come to realize that my female identity has been shaped by a biased, hypocritical excuse based on ridiculous gender roles: "It's just how it is." All my life, I have asked them why, and all they said was "It's just how it is." And it didn't matter whether I've asked men or women. Internalized misogyny is just as harmful. There were as many women as men who said: "It's just how it is." But that is not the answer I wanted. Not the answer I needed. These few words don't fucking answer the countless questions concerning my gender identity. Why can't I sit with my legs spread? What's so shameful about what I keep between them? Why must I cover my breasts? Why am I being sexualized long before I'm even told when sex is? Why am I being taught to mistrust other girls? Why do I have to compete with other girls? Why am I only a good girl when I'm not like most girls? Why do I have to keep quiet about the way I feel? Why am I not allowed to show affection like men do? Can't I conquer a boy's heart, too? Why must love be about conquering, anyway? What if I don't like being chased? What if it scares me? Why do boys scare me, anyway? Why do you make me feel inferior to them? And why do I have to like a boy in order to be liked? Why am I being shamed for being a "slut", them shamed for being "prude"? Why am I expected to adapt, obey and swallow without praise when boys who return the favour are considered grateful, dedicated lovers, heroes, almost ,because to the majority of them, it's not fucking understood that if I make them cum, they should make me cum, too? Why am I exhausting to be with? Why am I complicated? Is it because I'm a bitch? Because I'm an oversensitive little baby? Is it because I'm a slut? A prude virgin? Is it because I'm on my period? Cause women are just crazy? Cause I am jealous, manipulative, backstabbing, competitive or any of the other countless negative traits that are immediately connected with the female identity? All summed up, is it because I'm a girl? I've asked them. And they said yes. And when I asked "But why?", they said it again: "It's just how it is." "It" is that context, is a never ending circle of resigning acceptance of the circumstance that girls are being raised to disrespect their own gender from their childhood on. I was, and am, expected to accept the fact that being female automatically makes me inferior, and that I should be thankful for being treated equally, because that's not the standard. I was, and am, expected to appreciate and take it as a compliment when people tell me that I'm not like other women. Because I was, and am, expected to look down on women even though I am a woman myself. But I refuse. I refuse to adapt, obey and swallow. I refuse to accept that "it's just how it is". I refuse to take this as an answer, and I will not stop asking why. I won't ever stop asking why. Not because I want people to give me a proper response, but because I want them to question themselves, too. I want them to start wondering. Want them to start doubting the concept of the role I've learned to stick to before I knew how to spell my "typically female" name. I want them to think about it, lose their sleep about it, until they ask, too: "Why?" In order to eliminate misogynic stereotypes, we must unlearn to understand them. We must refuse to accept "It's just how it is" as an answer, until we forget what "it" stands for. Keep asking why, until nobody knows an answer anymore. "It's just how it is" is not an answer. Neither is "It's cause you're a girl". Or "That's how girls are". Because girls can be everything and anything they want to be. That's how it really is.