#for context my mom is cousin's aunt and she kind of raised her and her brother for a couple of years since their mom died when they were- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Indian autistic trans lesbian estranged from her transphobic Hindu parents

@whoviandoodler asked:

Hello! Thank you for all you do! My MC is an Indian autistic trans lesbian who (rather happily) lives with her aunt and her non binary cousin because her Indian parents and brother refused to accept her as trans (she left to live w/ her aunt of her own volition and was not kicked out). They're generally okay people who're not bigoted, but they fell into the pit of 'I'm not okay with this bcs it's my own child' and the narrative of some trans women's parents where they're 'crying over their 'son's' empty grave'. They're not the villains of the tale in any way, just the background sad story of many queer ppl whose parents will probably never accept them and who have to cut ties with the parents for their own mental well-being. I'm comfortable writing the queer part of the narrative, but I'm afraid I might be falling into some racial stereotypes with unaccepting/judgemental brown parents- I have no plans to 'redeem' them (bcs it's the reality I wanna portray), but I'm still in the early stages of writing the story and if you think that might be an overdone/hurtful trope, I can change it.

There's also the matter of them being Hindu, whereas the MC is not (her aunt is, though), and the MC only having her aunt and enby cousin as a 'support system' (I know community is a big deal in Indian culture like it used to be here).

Am I unintentionally 'villainizing' Hinduism even though I have the very accepting Hindu aunt in the narrative and the parents aren't transphobic due to their religion (nor their culture, really)?

Should I give the MC more of a community and connect her with her 'wider' relatives, or is it ok to have her be happy w just her aunt/cousin/(Indian) friends?

(Her parents are first generation immigrants in a vagueishly American-inspired country so there isn't any relatives nearby). That q arises specifically from a worry that I'm cutting her off from her culture, which I don't want to do any further than her situation has already done (away from Indian relatives due to immigration v early in her life, estranged from parents)

is it enough to 'immerse' herself in her culture thru food/other customs and her relationship with her (also immigrant) aunt and Indian friends, or does she need more people in her life to share that culture with?

Additional context from op: I'm white, autistic and queer.

There is a lot to unpack here, and I admit that I can't answer every issue raised in this. Note that I am speaking as a very Americanized bisexual mod.

Trans people do exist in Hinduism; the discussion about interpretations and presence are rather common. For example, there are hijras, which is a term that can apply to people that are intersex, trans, asexual, or eunuchs. Some versions of The Ramayana have hijras waiting faithfully for the king Rama to return to his throne after fourteen years. It was British colonialism which started the trend towards anti-hijra law, and some of those biases have persisted to the present day.

(Reading: A Right to Exist: Eunuchs and the State in Nineteenth-Century India)

Some Hindu parents, even ones that give up the religion, are infamously close-minded and homophobic. I've come out to my family as bisexual three times, and my mother has remained in denial. She also doesn't know what the meaning of bisexual is, that I've put a label on myself. She tried starting several fights about it this summer, actually, and was talking about arranged marriages. This is just for bisexuality, mind, meaning that I can still marry a guy and appear to be conventional first generation. My mom is also not religious; she gave up her belief in God or gods when I was a child. Some stereotypes have a grain of truth to them because these kinds of parents exist and can be very hurtful.

WITH THAT SAID, the big question is what kind of story do you want to tell? Do you want it to be a coming of age where the MC has a supportive community, or one where she feels isolated due to coming out of the closet? There are LGBTQ people and interpretations in mythology, and yes Hinduism isn't necessarily vilified. The people that practice the religion will ultimately determine how they will interpret the texts, rituals, or beliefs.

As for staying connected with their community? That depends on the individual and how they feel is sufficiently immersive. There is no definite answer on what makes a person more "Indian" than not. Food can change with fusion cuisine and different ingredients, and people can too with the influences in their lives.

- Mod Jaya

Like Jaya said, there isn’t one answer on what defines someone as more “Indian” than someone else. Does living in the US diminish the worth of my Indian origin as compared to that of my family in India? Does it make me more “Indian” if I participate in more of the religious customs than they typically do? Does having friends from a variety of backgrounds make me less “Indian” as opposed to having mostly Desi friends? It’s a matter of personal interpretation and how much an individual wants to connect.

I’ve lived in a similar situation to what you described: one of my siblings and I are both openly queer, our parents are first generation immigrants, most of us actively practice Hinduism, though my sibling drifted away from it when they went to college. My family isn’t generally queerphobic, but they aren’t totally tolerant when it comes to the two of us. I’m not trans, and can’t speak for someone who is in a closer situation to what was described, but we’ve learned to live with it, mostly by not continuing to press the issue and letting them discover their views over time.

I don’t think that this scenario villainizes Hinduism; the measures you described for avoiding vilifying Hinduism seem well-balanced to me. I would suggest maybe not limiting some of the struggles the protag had to her parents, and discuss the community a little more. Even if the family is isolated from their relatives in India, there are enough Indian immigrants in the US currently that it’s probable for them to have a group of Desi families that they are social with. Unless this setting tends toward an earlier period, I would think that they’d at least have a few people they know whose beliefs would be similar to theirs. What I’ve found is that it’s easy to discuss queerness in an abstract sense, less so when one is confronted with it.

Wanting to incorporate community doesn’t have to mean just family--depending on the story you’re telling, you could, as I said previously, include family friends as a part of her struggle. Alternatively, you could give her a group of queer friends which includes other queer Desi people. You could do both, depending on how you structure your narrative.

About the aunt: I would be careful to make sure that she has distinct dimension and nuance beyond being supportive and Hindu. Even the most accepting people that I’ve known have struggled sometimes, and if she’s characterized as someone from an older generation, understanding and total acceptance of queerness usually doesn’t come naturally the way it tends to with younger generations, unless it has come through personal experience and/or exposure to queerness via education or social engagement.*

Is her neurodiversity also going to be a key point? I could see that combining with her queerness to be something you could address. Take this previous post (Neurodivergency and Desi Culture: Appropriate forms of Accomodation for Holi) I would do some research into different understandings of neurodivergency and its intersectionality with queerness, to ensure that this protag’s experience is representative of the groups she falls into.

*DISCLAIMER: This is what I’ve seen from the Desi adults I grew up around and how they reacted to me and my sibling being queer. This is not uniform or the only possible experience a young queer Desi person could have with their community.

~ Abhaya

#Indian #Indian woman #desi #trans #transphobia #Hindu #Indian parents #family #Indian stereotypes

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ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her · 3 years

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On Family

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

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One question that I see asked in the news a lot is why there are still any ghouls left. We have a distinctive, high-impact feeding habit that requires us to stay within human society, where we are both outnumbered and outgunned. This has essentially been the case since the development of automatic firearms, and you’ve continued to develop more and more effective methods of killing us since then. How are we not extinct?

The talking heads always have lurid theories to propose. My personal favorite one, which comes up every couple of years or so, is that the government is secretly breeding us so that they have an excuse to send secret police out into the general populace for nefarious purposes pretending to be exterminators. As if they’d need the excuse {Editing Note: I’ve gotta keep my political views out of this except where they directly pertain to ghouls. No unnecessarily alienating people}. The most commonly accepted one seems to be that we just have a lot of children to compensate for our high mortality rate. Spatha calls that an R strategy, I think. Scarlet calls it the Rabbit Theory. Whatever you call it, it’s wrong. Our species has survived off the strength and compassion of our families.

Contrary to popular impressions, our “nuclear” families are pretty small. My understanding is that 1-4 children is the typical range. I’m the only confirmed only child in my friend group. Scarlet’s the youngest of three, Scorpio’s a middle child, Spatha avoids talking about her home life, and Kestrel doesn’t know her biological parents. There’s a couple of pressures that keep our family sizes small. First, it’s challenging to feed too many ghouls at once, especially ghoul children, who we don’t want worrying about where they’re going to get their meals. Second, the majority of ghoul parents are going to end up as single parents before their kids are fully grown. Either one of them is going to get killed, or they’re going to have to separate to go on the run from the exterminators; and, of course, we do still break up and get divorced sometimes.

These pressures are exaggerated by our general lack of an extended family. It’s not that all of our aunts and uncles get hunted down - even if they did, we’d still have cousins - but it’s not safe for us to have traceable extended families. When exterminators identify a ghoul, the first thing they do is put out a bulletin for all known blood relatives. The most common tactic to avoid this is, when multiple siblings make it to adulthood, at least one of them changes their identity and moves away. This isn’t always done, but it’s done often enough that document forging is a widespread and well-respected profession in the Society. It’s useful for dodging exterminators in other circumstances too. My mom and I changed our names and moved cities after exterminators killed my dad when I was 4.

Between that and the sheer number of out-and-out orphans in our Society, it should come as no surprise that we’ve developed a new family structure to fill in the gaps. The terminology we use for this structure is variable, but the term I’ve always used is “household”. A household is a sort of adopted extended family, typically formed by and centered around one particularly resourceful ghoul called a patron. The patron takes whichever ghouls they choose under their wing, introduces them to each other, and helps them coordinate their talents and resources so that they all have everything they need. Most obviously, this means making sure they all have a supply of flesh, but there are numerous other kinds of support a household can provide. I doubt I need to emphasize again how valuable a reliable source of companionship and safety is, but patrons typically have access to connections and contacts that can help the other members of the household accomplish their goals.

My household, for example, was founded by our patron Yaga. It consists of her, her adopted daughter Kestrel, my mom and I, my friends Scarlet and Scorpio and their immediate families, and four other older ghouls. There’s also Spatha, who has been reluctant to fully join the household but acts like a member in most contexts. Three of our members have reliable flesh sources, and Yaga coordinates with other ghouls to find supplementary sources to ensure that she always has a surplus on hand. This keeps all of us well-fed and lets her distribute the rest to those in need in exchange for favors and cachet that the rest of us can use for our own advancement. In turn, the rest of us pitch in for odd jobs here and there, mostly on flesh-gathering jobs of one kind or another, and we look out for each other. I’ve done a bit of babysitting with Kestrel, for example, and Yaga was able to get me and Scarlet summer jobs to save up for college.

Babysitting, by the way, is one of the most valuable services a household can provide to a ghoul parent. Given our mortality rate, it probably isn’t a surprise that there’s a good bit of cultural pressure to have children, and have them quick. Ghoul children are… a lot. When we’re newborn, we’re pretty much like human babies. Ghoul babies can nurse from ghoul mothers for awhile, which is a relief. They need to switch to flesh before their teeth come in, though, so that means flesh slurry, which is more complicated to make than you might think. For best results, you want a mix of blood, muscle tissue, organ tissue, and bone, especially marrow. We get better at pulling all our nutrients from just flesh as we mature, but babies aren’t as developed. Getting those varied tissues is a little more complicated than just getting flesh. Bone especially is challenging - more mature ghouls have no need for it, and it’s honestly kinda gross. You just have to hope that whoever you’re getting flesh from can start holding some bones for you. Not every source has easy access to bones.

{Editing Note: I think I wrote bone too many times - it looks fake now. Bone. Bone.}

We get our ghoul teeth at the same time as our baby teeth. Our ghoul teeth fall out and are replaced too, but we keep growing new ones our whole lives, kinda like sharks. Funnily enough, I don’t think we grow extra human teeth, which seems like a strange way for evolution to take us, but what do I know, I’m not a biologist. At that point we can start eating regular flesh, and parents have the unenviable task of explaining to toddlers that they can’t just slide their teeth out whenever they want. Our other features come in a bit later - claws between 4 and 6, eyes with puberty. Let me tell you, the claws hurt coming in. I couldn’t hold a pencil for a month. My mom told the elementary school that I was deathly sick so she could keep me home, but I think Scarlet just pretended he’d broken both his hands and went in splints. I don’t envy him - stretching my claws did a lot to relieve the pain.

I’ll admit freely that, by our standards, I had a pretty charmed childhood. I fit into human society pretty easily, I had a mom who loved me and could provide for me, a patron and household to help pick up the slack, and ghoul friends my own age. I had the discipline to keep my true nature hidden from my human peers, and I don’t think I was even particularly traumatized by the pressure of performing humanity that much. I can safely attribute that to the fact that I had safe spaces throughout my life to let the charade drop. Most ghouls at least have that. Most, but not all.

Our integration into human society also means that we inevitably become entangled in human society. We become invested in the lives of our human peers, we befriend them, care about them. Sometimes we fall in love with them. Eating people seems like kind of a big secret to keep from a potential romantic partner - I certainly couldn’t manage it - but some ghouls form romantic relationships with humans nonetheless. Maybe some of these human partners eventually discover the truth and are willing to overlook it for the person they love, but I doubt it happens often. I’ve certainly never heard of it. I’ve heard of it going the other way, though, a human partner discovering the truth and reacting poorly. Someone always dies when that happens. I personally know a few ghouls who’ve dated humans, or are seriously involved with them. Frankly, it scares the hell out of me. I get that the heart wants what it wants, but some wants aren’t worth the risk.

{Editing Note: That last line feels… tense. Emotionally charged. Why? And should I change it?}

In my opinion, the gravest of these risks is what happens when a human and a ghoul decide they want to build a life together, but kids are already in the equation. The human-ghoul mixed family is probably the most toxic environment that a ghoul child could be raised in and conceivably survive. All that pressure of hiding your true nature from your peers as you grow up? That feeling of isolation that follows you everywhere you go among humans? All of the most crushing emotional turmoil I’ve described in this book so far? Imagine if there was no relief for that even at home with your family. I frankly have no idea how ghoul parents manage to feed themselves and their children without being caught, or how they manage to perform humanity so flawlessly and constantly that their literal immediate family never catches on. I don’t know how those children manage to survive to adulthood, but I imagine they have some seriously fucked up mental health problems by the time they do. Factor in the suspicion that they would inevitably face from our Society when they finally are able to join it properly - after all, who more likely to become a Judas or be Lost than a ghoul raised by humans? - and I’d be willing to bet most of them don’t make it out of their twenties.

Before we move on entirely from families in general and mixed families in particular, I’d like to take a quick aside to talk about “half-ghouls”. You hear about them in horror media fairly often, the biological child of a human and a ghoul. Authors love to ascribe all sorts of traits to these hypothetical creatures - greater and more monstrous than the sum of their parts, supernaturally strong and vicious, impossible to detect within human society, sometimes with traits that are blatantly impossible, like telepathy or mind control or just plain magic. All of that is obviously untrue, but it’s something of a point of contention as to whether or not a “half-ghoul” is even possible. None of the ghouls I’ve talked to seem to agree about whether it can happen, and a search of human medical literature was similarly inconclusive. Humans, at least, seem to think that it might be theoretically possible, but have never been able to verify it by observation or by medical experiment. Of the ghouls I know that have been romantically involved with humans, none of them have ever gotten a kid out of it. It’s one of those things where we just don’t know. If it were possible, I’m not even sure what the implications would be.

#my writing #memoirs of a flesh eater #original fiction #not tlt

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tw-anchor · 4 years

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39. Trust Your Abilities

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x15: Galvanize

Word Count: 6,559

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, dramatic Stiles, Peter’s severed finger

Author’s Note: Y’all I have had the worst luck these past couple of months. I must have broken a mirror or something without knowing. Please enjoy! Make sure you reblog, like, and tell me what you think!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Peter was lucky to have Olivia and Derek. Most people wouldn't help someone who had murdered and injured more than one of their family members. In fact, if Peter wasn't her father, Olivia wouldn't even be in the same vicinity as him, let alone help Derek sew his finger back on.

But, that's where she found herself. She hovered behind Derek as he and Peter sat at the table in Derek's loft; Derek had taken upon himself to sew Peter's finger back on after the Calaveras' head honcho cut it off. Thankfully, Peter put the finger on ice once Braeden got the two of them out of the hunters' grasp.

Olivia wasn't afraid of blood, but even the sight of her cousin sewing on her father's finger caused some nausea. Thankfully, it was over soon; Derek worked quickly, ignoring Peter's complaints in a way that Olivia couldn't. If she hadn't known the year Peter was born, she would have thought he was six years old. Peter Hale could dish out the pain without a problem, but he certainly couldn't take it.

"Ow," Peter hissed as Derek finished up his almost-perfect sutures. "Don't you have any anesthetic?"

Derek gave him a blank look, setting the small pair of medical scissors on the table next to him. "Yep."

Olivia snickered. "You know, I really thought you'd have a higher pain tolerance,"

Peter rolled his eyes at her. "Shut up," he turned back to Derek and with a whine to his voice, asked, "Are you at least going to tell me what I risked life and digit for?"

"Yeah, actually, I'd like to know that, too," Olivia added, crossing her arms over her chest. "And, you know, why I had to hire a mercenary to get you guys out of there..."

"I'm going to show you," Derek got up from his seat and took only a minute or so while he went up to his room and came back down. He carried a cylinder box made out of some sort of wood, with a triskele carved into the lid; he opened it and carefully slid out its contents. "After the fire, that's all that was left of her."

Talia Hale's claws clattered onto the table and Olivia almost flinched. Even though Talia was long dead, she could still feel power radiating off the claws. And that power? It felt like her Aunt Talia. It wasn't necessarily a tether like her pack members, but there was a slight glow to them on her mental map that caused her pause.

That's why Derek went, she realized privately.

Peter's eyes narrowed in recognition as he looked at his sister's claws. "Talia. I can't decide if that's touching or morbid," he raised an eyebrow at Derek. "I guess the real question is, what are you planning on doing with them?"

Derek hesitated before answering. "I have to ask her something," he finally revealed. "and from what I've heard, this is the only way possible."

Realization dawned on Peter's face. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Why do you think I sewed your finger back on?" Derek's lips turned up slightly into a smirk.

Olivia wrinkled her nose. She hadn't known what Derek was going to do with Talia's claws, but from context clues, she figured it out. Peter would connect to Talia's claws and then do the alpha ritual on Derek, where he peaked into Derek's subconsciousness through his spinal cord. It was a painful procedure and each time Olivia witnessed it, some part of her heart ached.

Even though she did want to know what Derek spoke to Talia about, she couldn't watch him go through with the ritual. It honestly didn't matter much, either way, because she had to get going in order to fetch Stiles from his house so they could get to school on time.

"That's my cue," she patted Derek on the shoulder before heading to the door. "I'll call you later, Der."

"Have fun at school," he mumbled in reply.

Much to her surprise, when she got to her car, Isaac was waiting for her in the passenger seat.

"What are you doing here?" she wasn't upset about his presence, but merely curious.

She slid into her seat and buckled her seatbelt, starting her car. She pulled away from Derek's building and took a left, heading into town so she could pick them up some breakfast. It would butter Stiles up to Isaac's attendance.

Isaac shrugged. "Scott took his bike, so I thought I'd get a ride with you."

"You walked all the way to Derek's loft from Scott's house to get a ride to school?" Olivia laughed.

"Well, any opportunity to annoy Stiles, and I'm there," Isaac chuckled with her.

Olivia shook her head in amusement. Only Isaac...

After a quick stop at the McDonald's drive-through, Olivia was pulling to a stop at the curb in front of Stiles' house. Isaac clambered into the backseat, almost hitting her in the face two separate times with his long legs, as Stiles bounced out of the front door and made his way down the sidewalk.

"Good morning, beautiful!" he was very cheerful today and Olivia knew it wasn't because it was from his lack of nightmares—because he certainly had one. No, he was happy because today was Mischief Day, the day before Halloween. "Mwah!"

The placement of his lips against her cheek with a noisy kiss made Olivia grin. "Morning, sweetcheeks."

"Good morning!"

As soon as Stiles heard Isaac's voice, he deflated. He whipped around and faced the backseat, a scowl on his face. "Ugh, what are you doing here?" he complained; as he reached for the handle of his door, Olivia locked the doors and pulled away from the curb. "Livvy, let me out. I'll drive myself."

"No, you won't," she said firmly. "Wednesdays are my days to drive."

"Well, why'd you bring Isaac?"

"I brought myself," Isaac told him smugly. He reached into the McDonald's bag and pulled out Stiles' breakfast sandwich amongst the wrappers from his biscuit and Olivia's bagel, tossing it at him. "Breakfast."

"Thank you," Stiles grumbled at Olivia as he turned to face the front once again. He unwrapped his sandwich with a grouchy look on his face. "Now Mischief Day is ruined."

"No, it isn't, Mr. Mischief," Olivia rolled her eyes. "If anything, Isaac riding with us is mischief..."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Oh, get over yourself," Isaac rolled his eyes; Olivia caught the action through her rear-view mirror and tried to hide her grin.

"You get over yourself."

"No, you get over your—"

"Okay, both of you, shut it," Olivia interrupted their ridiculous argument. "I don't want to hear another word from either of you until we get to school."

"But—"

"Shush."

"Yes, Mom."

"Isaac Lahey."

Olivia wasn't as annoyed as she portrayed herself. It was actually kind of amusing to see Isaac and Stiles fully chastised for their little spat. Nevertheless, the only noise throughout the rest of the drive to the school was some alternative song that Stiles had turned on

"Look," Isaac spoke as Olivia was parking. "the twins are here."

Olivia and Stiles followed his gaze and saw that he was right. Ethan and Aiden's bikes were parked neatly in the two spaces next to Scott's. Scott had already abandoned his bike and was talking to them, looking affronted.

Stiles' face hardened and in that moment, he and Isaac had something to agree on; they both could not stand Ethan and Aiden.

Stiles and Isaac rushed out of the car and Olivia briskly followed them, making sure that her car was locked securely.

"You're back in school?" they heard Scott ask the twins.

"No, just to talk," Ethan answered him.

"Oh, that's kind of a change of pace for you guys," Stiles snarked as he came to a stop on Scott's right; Isaac joined the alpha's other side. "Usually you're just hurting, maiming, and killing."

Aiden chose to ignore Stiles, keeping his eyes on Scott. "You need a pack, we need an alpha."

"Yeah, absolutely not," Stiles answered for Scott. "That's hilarious, though."

Aiden narrowed his eyes at Stiles while reminding Scott, "You came to use for help. We helped."

"You beat him up, two to one," Olivia spoke up, her voice hardening. "And then when he was down, you had to be stopped by your brother."

"Yeah, in my opinion, that was actually counter-productive," Stiles added as he took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Why would I say yes?" Scott asked, though he looked to be humoring the twins, more than actually considering them as pack members.

"We add strength, we'd make you more powerful," Aiden pitched. "There's no reason to say no."

Stiles rolled his eyes, Olivia scoffed, and Isaac sneered at them, "I can think of one. Like the two of your holding Derek's claws while Kali impaled Boyd." Olivia nodded in agreement with Isaac, her heart aching at the thought of her dead pack mate. "In fact, I don't know why we're not impaling them right now."

Aiden growled at them, his eyes glowing ice-blue. "You wanna try?"

Olivia couldn't believe his audacity. She held out a firm hand, sending her own purple-tinted glare at him. "You need to back up," she ordered firmly, allowing her voice to shift and take control of him.

Aiden's eyes dimed back to their normal brown, but his glare stayed.

"Sorry, but they don't trust you," Scott glanced between Ethan and Aiden, his gaze lingering on the latter and his wicked temper. "And neither do I."

The four of them walked past the twins without another word—though, Isaac did send them a triumphant smirk as he passed.

As soon as they walked into the school, Stiles was decked in the face with a roll of toilet paper.

"All right, that's my fucking face!" he growled as he whipped the roll back at Greenberg. He patted Scott on the chest as they continued on to his locker. "Hey, dude, good decision, buddy. Good alpha decision."

Scott winced sheepishly. "I hope so."

"No, you know so," Olivia loved Scott, but he wished that he would see people the way they were, not the way he hoped them to be. Ethan and Aiden had a large part in Boyd's death, like Isaac had just mentioned, and they were also part of the pack who killed Erica. Sometimes, people couldn't be redeemed.

"Exactly," Isaac pointed at her in agreement.

Stiles, who had successfully closed the door to his mind after Malia's transformation back to a human girl, easily dialed his combination and unlocked his locker. He started unpacking his very full backpack, unloading his various Mischief Day pranks.

Scott nudged Olivia while Stiles was focused on his bag. "Hey, what did you say her name was again?" he nodded down the hall and Olivia saw that he was looking at Kira, who was at her own locker.

"Kira Yukimura," she informed him. "She's really sweet. Why?"

Scott shrugged. "Just wondering."

Isaac and Olivia exchanged an amused look. "Right, okay."

Stiles glanced at them. "What are you guys looking at?" he followed their gaze, saw Kira, and then looked back at Scott, "You looking at her?"

Scott immediately looked away from Kira, flustered. "Her? Who her?"

"Her-her," Stiles rolled his eyes. "Kira. You like her?"

"I thought you were into Lydia now," Isaac mentioned idly; Olivia smirked when Scott's eyes widened in shock.

"What? No!" he shook his head quickly. "I mean, may—no! She's okay, they're both okay...Kira's new."

Stiles shook his head and carefully placed a carton of eggs into his locker. "Yeah, that made a lot of sense, buddy. Just ask her out."

"Who, Lydia?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "He meant Kira, Scott."

"Now?"

"Yes, now," Isaac encouraged him.

"Right now?"

"Right now," Stiles slammed his locker shut after grabbing his econ textbook and turned to face Scott head on. "Scott, I don't think you get it yet. You're an alpha. You're the apex predator—"

"Please don't call him a predator while trying to convince him to ask Kira out," Olivia interjected with a gentle shudder.

"Makes sense," Stiles nodded at her before going back to Scott. "My point is, everyone wants you. You're like the hot girl that every guy wants."

Scott raised his eyebrows, confused. "The hot girl?"

"You are the hottest girl," Stiles poked him in the chest with a wink.

His words must have finally gotten through to Scott, because the alpha nodded with a small, but cute smile on his face. He looked up at Isaac and announced, "I'm the hot girl."

Isaac nodded seriously. "Yes, you are."

Scott giggled cutely before walking away.

Olivia watched him go, shaking her head. "You three are the oddest people I've ever met."

Isaac laughed at her and followed Scott while Stiles scoffed, "Says you," he grabbed her hand as they walked down the hallway to her locker. "Aren't you the teenager whose favorite ice cream is vanilla?"

"You know I don't like ice cream that much," they reached her locker and she swiftly unlocked it. "Now, should I be jealous that you called Scott the hottest girl while I was standing right next to you, or...?"

"No," Stiles leaned against her neighbor's locker, smiling down at her. "Want to know why?"

"Why, Stiles?"

"Because hot doesn't even begin to describe you, Livvy," he cooed sweetly, making her giggle.

"You're lucky I love you," she poked his cheek. "otherwise, you'd be too cheesy for me."

"You like cheese."

"On my pizza," Olivia shut her locker with a laugh, cradling her econ textbook in the crook of her right arm. "Now, did you want to catch the show are you gonna sit around all day and miss it?"

Stiles' eyes lit up at the reminder. Last night, or early this morning, Stiles and Scott had come to the school to prank Coach. It was his birthday and apparently the best friend duo had been pranking him on Mischief Day since they entered high school. It was a sort of tradition for them and Stiles said it was always good fun, but Olivia had never witnessed one of these pranks herself.

She would never tell Stiles, but she was kind of excited about it.

"Yes!" he grabbed her free hand and started pulling her down the hall.

When they entered Coach's classroom, Stiles had insisted on sitting in the front row, so he had a good seat for all the chaos that he and Scott had reined upon Coach. Olivia sat behind him and when Lydia and Scott came into the classroom together, a moment or so later, they sat next to them. The bell rang and there was still no sign of Coach—but then, they heard what was going on next door.

What sounded like furniture collapsing to the floor came from Coach's office. Not a second later, they heard him shout, "Son of a bitch!"

Stiles broke out into a round of snickers, his whole body shaking, and Scott grinned in amusement. Olivia let a smile appear on her lips as she glanced at Lydia, who shook her head, an expression that somehow held both annoyance and amusement painted on her face.

The door that connected Coach's office and the classroom was forced open and then slammed quickly as Coach entered the room. "Mischief Night, Devil's Night," he grumbled, glaring at the students as most of them laughed. "I don't care what you call it. You little punks are evil. You think it's funny that every Halloween my house gets egged?"

The general consensus was yes, everyone thought that Coach's house getting egged was funny.

"A man's house is supposed to be his castle! Mine's a freakin' omelet..." Coach turned to his desk and spotted the wrapped gift that Greenberg had deposited before he took his seat. "Oh, this? We're gonna do this again? I don't think so!"

Coach whipped the present onto the ground and stomped on it. A surprised look flashed onto his face when he heard glass breaking; Stiles' laughter increased into a small roar.

Coach picked up the present, a mug with his picture on it, which was now broken, and glanced at the card. "Happy birthday," he read. "Love, Greenberg."

The slightly chastised look on Coach's face made Olivia laugh. Her giggles died down when Lydia's tether pulsed. She turned to her cousin and saw her on her phone, swatting the air around her head.

"Lyds, what are you doing?" she leaned over to her desk and whispered.

"There's a fly," Lydia mumbled in response.

Olivia narrowed her eyes and looked around; she didn't see any flies.

When Stiles had gone to get his wallet out of his backpack so he could buy his lunch, he definitely didn't expect the police to walk into the school. Many of the deputies were led by his dad, while some of the suited agents walking around were brought by Agent McCall. Even more shocking than the force's appearance was the reason for their visit.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Stiles rushed after Noah after being given a distracted response about why they were at the school. "The William Barrow? The shrapnel bomber? He was spotted nearby?"

Noah turned and stopped, giving the students who were on their lunch break and surrounded the hallways a nervous look. "A little closer than nearby, actually," he corrected Stiles, lowering his voice.

Agent McCall walked by them, the vice-principal at his side. "How do we get down to the basement? I need to know where every entrance is. I don't want anybody coming in or out of the school."

This was more serious than Stiles thought.

"Dad," he looked at his dad with wide eyes. "what's really going on here?"

It didn't take long to discover what was happening. Noah quickly explained that William Barrow had come into the hospital for surgery but had instead escaped. They followed him to the school and they were trying to find him before he ended up killing more people. The scariest part about William Barrow was the fact that he went after kids with glowing eyes.

That meant that Olivia, Scott, and Isaac were in trouble.

He quickly found his friends at the table in the cafeteria where he left them and ushed them out of the overcrowded room. Scott wasn't with them, but he told Olivia, Lydia, Isaac, and Allison what was going on and what—or who—William Barrow was after.

"Barrow went after kids with glowing eyes?" Isaac repeated in disbelief as the five of them wandered along an empty hallway on the second floor of the school. "He said those exact words?"

"Yeah," Stiles squeezed Olivia's hand, assuring himself that she was safe next to him. "and no one knows how he woke up from anesthesia. Just that when they opened him up, they found a tumor full of live flies—which, in any other circumstance, would be all kinds of awesome."

"Maggots coming from the body is a thing, but I've never heard of flies in the stomach," Olivia muttered thoughtfully.

Lydia stopped walking abruptly. "Did you say flies?"

The rest of them stopped with her.

"Lydia?" Allison prompted an explanation from the redhead.

"All day I have been hearing this sound," Lydia explained, pressing her lips together in frustration. "It's like this...buzzing..."

Olivia frowned in realization while Allison asked, "Like the sound of flies?"

That's why Lydia's tether lit up in econ, Olivia realized in dismay, her banshee powers were picking up Barrow at the school.

Lydia nodded grimly. "Exactly like the sound of flies."

It was quickly decided that they needed to split up and find Scott, since he was missing in action. With three floors to search, Allison and Isaac took the top, Lydia and Olivia took the second, and Stiles took the floor level. While they were trying to find Scott, they also had to avoid the police, who were doing their own search for Barrow.

Five minutes before the lunch period was over, Stiles found Scott outside of Mr. Yukimura's classroom. "Hey, dude, where the fuck have you been?"

Scott opened his mouth, but didn't get to answer, as Olivia and Lydia came storming up to them.

"The police are leaving," Lydia told them. "Why are they leaving?"

Scott winced in surprise. "The police?"

"They must have cleared the building and grounds, which means he's not here," Stiles told her.

Olivia shook her head in disagreement. "No, he has to be here," she insisted, her eyes traveling to her cousin. "Tell him, Lydia."

Stiles gave the redhead an expectant look.

"The sound, the buzzing I've been hearing? It's getting louder."

Stiles heart sank. "How loud?"

Olivia's eyes flashed purple. "Loud enough that I can hear it."

Yeah, okay, Stiles glanced between them, that's pretty loud.

Within minutes, Stiles found himself chasing his dad and Agent McCall—along with other deputies and FBI agents—to the parking lot. "Dad, Dad, you can't leave yet!"

"We got an eyewitness that puts Barrow by the train station," he dad explained.

"Let's go, Stilinski!"

Noah went to follow McCall, but Stiles stopped him.

"Dad, please...Lydia said that he's still here."

Noah's eyes widened slightly. "Did she see him?"

"Not exactly, no," Stiles grimaced; he hadn't exactly told him what Lydia was yet. "Well, not at all, actually. But she has a feeling. A supernatural feeling."

Noah turned his eyes away from Stiles in order to look at Olivia and Lydia, who had followed Stiles out of the school. While Lydia looked away, acting like she wasn't listening to their conversation, Olivia slapped on a sweet smile and waved at him.

He waved back at her and then looked back at Stiles. "Lydia wasn't on the chess board."

"She is now."

"Kanima?"

Why did his dad think everyone was a kanima? "Banshee."

"Oh, God."

"I know how it sounds, but basically, it means that she can sense when someone's close to death," Stiles explained rapidly. "And you know what Livvy is, okay, and she's got a bad feeling, too."

"Do these feelings tell them that I'm about to kill you?" Noah retorted, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know," Stiles looked back at Olivia and Lydia, and this time, it was Lydia who waved at Noah.

"All right, look," Noah leveled him with a calm, yet stern, stare. "I'm not saying I don't believe, but right now, I'm going with eyewitness over banshee and anchoram. We're leaving the deputies here. The school's on lockdown till three o'clock. Nobody come in, nobody comes out. Buddy, that's the best I've got right now. That's the best I can give you."

"You're leaving me here," Stiles objected as Noah turned and ran away from him, joining McCall and his agents. "That is not—that is the worst!"

Betrayal, in its purest form. That's what he was feeling at the moment. How dare his dad just leave him here, ignoring his warning about Barrow? Why didn't he just drop him off at the firehouse when he was an infant? It was the same type of abandonment!

Okay, he was being dramatic, but still...

Well, finding William Barrow was up to them, now.

Olivia, Stiles, and Lydia met with Allison in an empty classroom. While Scott and Isaac, along with Ethan and Aiden, would search the basement and floor level, and Olivia, Lydia, and Stiles would search the upper levels, Allison would be sneaking out of school in order to go home and search through the Argent's bestiary for some kind of explanation on Barrow's stomach flies and ability to wake up from full-blown anesthesia.

"The bestiary is literally a thousand pages long," Allison stated as she opened one of the windows leading to outside. "if I'm going to find anything about flies coming out of people's bodies, it could take me all night."

"If you go to the find button in the word document, you should be able to search for flies," Olivia pointed out.

Lydia nodded in agreement. "And remember, the word in archaic Latin for fly is musca."

"Got it," Allison climbed out the window.

Lydia turned to Olivia and Stiles. "Where do we start?"

"Upstairs," Stiles answered. "Let's go."

An hour later, after searching the second floor for any sign of Barrow, they moved onto the third floor. The drawing room was the second room they searched on the floor, right after the room that was reserved for painting.

Olivia soon received a text message from Isaac, informing her that he and Scott were moving onto the floor level while Aiden and Ethan finished up the basement.

"Are they still in the basement?" Lydia asked her.

"Scott and Isaac moved on, but Ethan and Aiden are," Olivia answered, slipping her phone back into her bag. "The twins had to search the boiler room and then they're meeting up with Scott and Isaac."

"Fuck!" Stiles' sudden curse caught Olivia and Lydia's attention. "All the wolves, the majority of the students with glowing eyes are either in the basement or the first floor. An engineer could use a boiler room to blow up the whole fucking school."

Olivia cocked her head and disappeared into her mental map. There were no whispers warning her about her or her pack mates, no names floating through her head. Every tether on her map was safe, other than the slight pulsing from Peter and Derek's—which she assumed was because they were either still doing the alpha ritual or they were recovering from it. So, they were safe from Barrow, right?

But Lydia was still hearing that buzzing. She could hear it, too, if she dived into her cousin's tether. Barrow was still in the school, somewhere, but her powers weren't warning her about anything...

Why aren't there any warnings? She thought, almost frantically. William Barrow is here.

While lost in her head, Olivia missed the significant look that Lydia and Stiles shared. "We have to get them out," Stiles proclaimed. "We have to get everyone out."

"How do we do that?"

Like any other problem in their very problematic lives, Stiles had an answer. Within the next few minutes, he had pulled the fire alarm and was caught by Coach, who claimed that if he was younger, he would have punched him. He had also earned himself a week full of detention.

School ended while students piled out of the building for the drill, which meant that the lockdown was over. Olivia, Stiles, and Lydia joined Scott, Isaac, Ethan, and Aiden near the parking lot to see if they found any sign of Barrow.

"We didn't find anything," Aiden reported.

Scott nodded in agreement. "Not even a scent."

"It's three o'clock, so school's over," Stiles sighed. "If there was a bomb, wouldn't he have set it off by now?"

"I've got nothing," Olivia clenched her jaw, wishing that her abilities were giving her something to work with. "I'm not getting any warnings..."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "Does that mean everybody's safe?"

"That's what she means," Isaac snapped at him in Olivia's defense. He then glanced at Lydia, thoughtfully. "but if you are hearing the flies..."

Lydia shook her head, just as lost as everyone else. "I don't know," she said sadly. "I just don't know."

Sirius knew that something was wrong with his girls. Lydia was hiding in her room and Olivia's face was snuggled into his fur as the two of them laid on her bed. The way her dog squirmed underneath her ear gave Olivia the hint that her anxiety was rubbing off on him. It made her feel bad; she rolled away from Sirius and onto her stomach, resting her chin on her forearms as her eyes landed on her boyfriend's figure across the room.

Stiles had opted to come over to her house instead of his, even though he would have been more comfortable in his house, with his own walls made up like a crime board. Even though Olivia had objected at first, it hadn't taken much coaxing for Stiles to convince her to allow him to set up a brand-new crime board on the large corkboard of her wall, which usually held pictures of her friends and family. She just couldn't resist the weirdo, especially when he pulled out four different balls of colored string—blue, yellow, green, and red—out of his backpack.

"Do you always keep those in there?" she had asked him. He had blinked back at her, almost innocently, and answered, "Yeah, why?"

So, now she watched the love of her life in his element; solving cases was what he was best at. Like her own personal, sexy Sherlock Holmes—she much preferred him to Benedict Cumberbatch.

"Okay, so green is solved, yellow is to-be-determined, and red is unsolved," Olivia hummed as Stiles pinned yet another piece of red string to connect a picture of William Barrow and one of the Eichen House. "What does blue mean?"

There were about three pieces of blue string that hadn't made much sense to her. The rest, she could somewhat follow.

"Blue is pretty," Stiles turned and winked at her. Her heart warmed, remembering the last time he told her that—his favorite color was blue, like her eyes.

"Well, yeah," she smiled as he sauntered over to her, plopping down onto the bed beside her. Sirius scurried off the bed, unnerved by the bounciness of the mattress. "but what does it mean in term of the investigation?"

"Nothing really," Stiles admitted. He leaned closer to her and brushed his lips on her forehead, just above her right eyebrow; her heart started racing. "It's different for each crime board. Today, it's the same as red."

Olivia pressed her lips against his, pulling back quickly. "You only have red on the board."

"Yes," Stiles rolled his eyes and laid on his back with a sigh. "I'm aware of that, thanks, baby."

Olivia shuffled closer to him and shifted so half of her body leaned against his. "I don't get it," she admitted, resting her chin on his chest as she studied his face. "Lydia felt Barrow at the school. And I did, too, it's just...I feel like my powers weren't working."

Stiles frowned and brushed his thumbs over her flushed cheeks. "What do you mean?"

"The tethers, none of them were giving any hint of trouble. When I looked at them, I knew that everyone in the pack was safe. Yet, when I dived into Lydia's, I could hear the flies buzzing. Just like her," she sighed in frustration. "It's so contradicting, it's maddening. And we didn't even find any physical proof of Barrow being there."

"Livvy, you've been right about this kind of stuff before. So has Lydia," Stiles comforted her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer against him. "and maybe the fact that you weren't feeling anything and Lydia was is a hint."

"What do you mean?"

"You know if your pack members are in trouble...What if someone who's not in the pack is who Barrow was after?"

Olivia cocked her head thoughtfully. "That makes sense," she mused. "but still, if he was at the school, the wolves didn't scent him."

"What if he didn't smell like himself? What if he changed his scent somehow?" Stiles bounced another idea off of her. "I mean, you said yourself that Lydia was right. Barrow was there. What if he, fuck, what if he changed into someone's gym clothes. Or he used some girl's perfume...What if he—"

Olivia sat up, her eyes widening in realization. "The chemistry lab. He could use chemicals to completely hide his scent. If they were strong enough, it'd be like he never stepped foot into the school."

Stiles grinned widely at her. "We are geniuses," he pecked her on the lips and then patted her butt. "Get Lydia. We need to go to the school."

Since Mr. Harris' tragic death, there hadn't been a science department head. If he was still alive, getting into the large closet of the school's chemicals would be infinitely harder because Harris was known to stay late after school. Now, though, with Stiles' lock-picking skills, it was easy to break into the senior chemistry lab where the closet was located.

Now, Mr. Harris was a dick, but he was the only science teacher who knew what he was doing at Beacon Hills High School. With science being Olivia's favorite subject, he had been her favorite teacher, of sorts—she purely respected him for his knowledge, not his attitude. For the first time since his death, Olivia didn't mind that he was gone.

Yeah, she knew how horrible that sounded. Ultimately, though, Mr. Harris had helped Kate Argent set the Hale house on fire—who went around telling random women ways to get away with arson? —and the fire led to most of the things that had gone wrong in her life.

"So, what are we looking for?" Lydia asked as they entered the room. Though Stiles and Olivia had brought her up to speed on why they were going to the school, some of the details were still kind of lost on her. She watched as Olivia frowned at the chemical closet and opened it, the key already in the doorknob. "That's supposed to be locked."

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles muttered, walking into the closet. "Notice anything else?"

Lydia inhaled and studied the closet. "It smells like chemicals," she realized. "You guys were right, they wouldn't have been able to catch his scent."

Olivia hummed and pulled out her phone, turning on its flashlight and pointing it at the floor. The three of them flinched when they saw the small puddle of blood on the floor; Stiles even got a little green around the gills, which wasn't surprising due to his slight fear of blood.

"Gross," he groaned quietly. "He was here, preforming very minor surgery on himself."

"Lydia, you were right," Olivia reached for her cousin's hand, squeezing it lightly. "Your instincts were right."

"Then why don't I feel good about this?"

"Probably because he was here to kill somebody."

"Kids with glowing eyes," Olivia mused. "but they're not part of the pack. Which narrows it down it down to..."

Lydia shrugged. "I have no idea."

"We gotta figure it out," Stiles decided. "Spread out, start looking for anything."

The girls did as he said, leaving the chemical closet. While Stiles started on one side of the classroom, looking through some of the lab tables, Lydia walked toward the teacher's desk, and Olivia searched some of the cabinets that held the lab equipment.

"Lydia," Stiles noticed that Lydia drifted toward the chalk board absentmindedly and saw that she was staring at a set of three numbers. "what are those?"

19. 53. 88.

"Atomic numbers," Lydia answered as he and Olivia moved to her side.

"Is it a formula?"

"No," it was Olivia who spoke this time. "Nineteen's Potassium. Fifty-three is Iodine. Eighty-eight is Radium. The first two make Potassium Iodide."

Olivia picked up a piece of chalk and started writing the atomic symbols next to their corresponding numbers.

19—K

"Potassium is K?" Stiles interrupted her writing.

Olivia nodded. "From Kalium, the scientific neo-Latin name."

53—I

"What's Radium?"

88—RA

"RA."

KIRA.

"Kira," Olivia breathed, her heart starting to race. "That's why none of the tethers were giving me anything."

"Guys," Lydia spoke up, giving them a horrified look. "Scott went to Kira's house for dinner."

When they got to Kira's house, Scott was knocked out, laying on the street next to his bike. Kira was no where to be found and when Stiles was finally able to wake Scott, he confirmed their suspicions.

"Barrow, he took Kira!" he exclaimed breathlessly as Stiles and Lydia helped him to his feet.

"We know. He was after her the whole time," Stiles patted him on the back. He glanced at Olivia, who had been talking to Isaac on the phone to see if he and Allison found anything in the bestiary. "What'd he say?"

"They didn't find anything," she reported, ending the call. "Just some stuff about flies and the dead. Nothing else."

"Well, we have to think of something," Scott said nervously. "He's going to kill her."

"I knew he was there," Lydia's voice deepened when it shook from the anxiety she was feeling. "How did I know that?"

"You heard the flies," Stiles said. "What do you hear now?"

Lydia was silent for a moment, listening, before she shook her head. "Nothing," she scoffed, disappointed in herself. "I feel like I can do this. But I don't know what to do. It's like it's on the tip of my tongue, and I don't know how to trigger it. I just—I sweat to God, it literally makes me want to scream."

Screaming, the most known way of communication from a banshee. "Then scream, Lydia," Olivia urged her. "Scream."

The scream that burst from Lydia's lips was the loudest any of them had been yet. While Olivia covered her ears and flinched back, she mused that it might have been because it was the first time Lydia was actually cooperating with her abilities. Despite the pain that being a banshee could bring her cousin, she was proud of Lydia for using her powers for good.

Lydia's tether flared and shook, but it held strong. Lydia was strong.

A full minute later, Lydia's screamed died down. The redhead didn't move, still turned away from Olivia, Stiles, and Scott. A noise caught her attention, the buzzing noise. She followed it, looking up at the streetlight hanging above her. She quickly turned around, causing Stiles to flinch.

"It's not flies," she told them. "it's electricity."

As Scott looked up at the light, Stiles twisted his lips. "Wait a second," he thought aloud. "Barrow was an electrical engineer. He worked at a power substation."

"What substation?"

He squinted, trying to remember the information from some of the papers he pinned to the crime board in Olivia's room. "The one by the Iron Works."

Scott drove ahead of them on his bike, arriving at the power substation in the Iron works couple minutes before Olivia pulled up with Stiles and Lydia in her car. Scott had already run into the building and Stiles was jumping out of his seat the second Olivia shifted into park.

"Okay, wait here," he told Olivia and Lydia. "Just wait for the cops to come."

"Stiles, I'm coming with you—"

Stiles cut Olivia off before she could protest more. "I have only one bat, Livvy. Please, please just wait."

Olivia felt her heart starting to ache from the panic pumping through her. "Stiles, if you die, I'll kill you."

Stiles only winked at her before running off into the building. Lydia climbed into the passenger seat while they waited, tightly squeezing her hand. It wasn't long before Scott's red tether was pulsing painfully and seconds later, Stiles' and Isaac's started up, too.

Scott, Stiles, Isaac...Scott, Scott, Scott...Isaac, Isaac, Isaac...Stiles, Stiles, Stiles...

There was an explosion; bright lights came from the inside of the substation and then everything went black.

"SCOTT? ISAAC? STILES?"

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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marjansmarwani · 4 years

Note

94 for Owen/Michelle (idk if you write them). if not, I could totally go for that same for Tarlos! Love you and thanks for writing! 💜

I don’t normally write Owen/Michelle, but this prompt seemed kind of perfect for them so I guess there is a first time for everything!

I hope you enjoy dear!

Prompt: “I need a date for this wedding.”

Want your own? Send me one of these prompts

don't let your lovin' show

[Read on ao3]

Owen was working his way through a stack of reports he had been ignoring when the sound of footsteps in his doorway made him lookup. He glanced at his door to find Captain Blake standing in his door, looking uncertain. That alone was enough to make this an odd interaction: Michelle Blake never looked uncertain.

“Captain?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Captain,” she responded.

The silence stretched for several long moments before Owen spoke again, “Can I help you with something?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Actually, you can, Or at least, I hope you can.”

Owen gestured for her to take the seat opposite his desk and she did, finally crossing the threshold into his office and settling into the chair. He watched her fidget for a moment before he spoke again, brow furrowed in concern, “Is everything okay Michelle? Is it about your sister?”

“Oh, Iris is fine, that’s not it,” she replied quickly.

“What is it then,” Owen asked pointedly when she showed no signs of continuing.

Michelle sighed before leaning forward in her chair, “I need a favor. I don’t even know if it’s fully appropriate to ask; if this is crossing some boundary or something and I completely understand if you say no…”

“Michelle,” he said, cutting off her rambling. She looked up at him and he gave her a smile, “Just say what you need to say.”

She took a deep breath before finally spitting out the words; “I need a date for this wedding.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” he said, not sure what else there was to say.

“I know this is weird and I am so sorry, but it’s my cousin’s wedding and my mother has threatened to disown me if I show up alone again and she has to spend all night listen to all her sisters lament about how tragic it is that I am so single and I really don’t have many friends outside of work - except Carlos but I’m pretty sure your son would have strong feelings about that and also I’ve already brought him as a date to at least two other family events and I think they might catch on soon and…”

“You’re rambling again Michelle,” Owen informed her.

“Am I? I’m sorry.”

Owen chuckled, “Don’t be. I know how family can be.”

“You too, huh?”

“Let’s just say being divorced twice is not what the busy body aunts like to gush about.”

She nodded, glancing back down to her hands folded in her lap, “I completely understand if you don’t want to go. It’d be weird and like I said I’m not even fully sure it’s appropriate. Actually you can just forget that…”

“Michelle,” he interrupted again. When she looked up he continued, “When’s the wedding?”

---

Two weekends later found Owen surrounded by three of Michelle’s aunts at the bar. He was smiling politely as aunt on the right (Sharon?) went on about the bride while aunt between him and the bar (Susan? He was probably making that up.) interrupted with whatever additions or corrections she thought necessary. Aunt on the left (Julia, he was almost certain about that one.) listened silently, studying him intently. Owen Strand was a man of many talents - one of which may very well be charming people - but even he was no match for this trifecta of aunts. He kept his polite smile pasted on as he scanned the room with his eyes, looking for any sign of Michelle. He had offered to go get drinks, but that had been at least an hour ago. Surely she had noticed he was missing by now.

“Well you know,” aunt on the right was saying, “the poor dear had an overbite until she was 8, bless her heart.”

“No Sharon,” aunt between him and the bar corrected, “she was 9 when they got that sorted out.”

Owen was going to drown himself in his own drink.

A hand on his arm and a familiar voice interrupted his plotting, “Excuse me ladies, would you mind if I stole him back from you?”

Michelle. Owen could have kissed her right there and then. “Sorry ladies,” he said with a beaming smile, “can’t keep my lovely date waiting!” Then he grabbed the drinks and allowed himself to be led away.

“Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?” he asked Michelle as they made their way back to their table.

She hummed, “probably, but it never hurts to hear it again.”

“Well, Michelle Blake, you are a savior. An hour with your aunts is more than one person can be expected to tolerate.”

She huffed out a laugh, “An hour? Owen, you were only there for about 5 minutes, maybe 6.”

He shook his head, “Not possible.”

“Hate to break it to you Captain, but it’s the truth.”

He shook his head in amazement, “Your aunts must have power over time itself then, because that felt like a lifetime.”

Michelle chuckled as they reached their table, “You just got caught up in a bad combination. Sharon and Suzanne are more than one person can handle. Julia is fine, but she likes to watch the fireworks too much to actually try to stop the other two. Just be glad it wasn’t Margret and Sharon - we’d both be stuck over there now.”

Owen gaped at her, “These are all your aunts? How many sisters does your mother have?”

“Five, and one brother.”

Owen shook his head in disbelief, “I see what Carlos meant now.”

Michelle looked at him sharply, “What do you mean?”

“Carlos tried to warn me about the aunts, I didn’t fully believe him.”

That wasn’t quite true. Carlos had in fact sat Owen down with charts to run through the lists of relatives and cover which ones were fine and which ones were to be avoided at all costs in a very serious tone while an amused TK looked on. But he wasn’t about to blow him in. Plus, he had apparently forgotten all of it - a fact he was going to conveniently neglect to mention when they spoke next.

Michelle shook her head, “The traitor!” she exclaimed with a laugh.

Owen waved her words away, “Don’t blame Carlos - he’s dating my only child, he’s just trying to stay on my good side.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, but Owen could tell that she was fighting off a smile. He grinned at her, “Since I’ve already had the Carlos Reyes run down of the Blake family, do you want to give me the official version?”

Michelle rolled her eyes and took her drink from him before launching into the story of her mom and her five sisters (and one brother). She told him about all the aunts and the embarrassing stories. She talked about her cousins and the trouble they used to get into when they were younger. She talked about her sister, about her dad, about how things were before.

At some point, they left the table and found their way to the dance floor. Somewhere in dancing and swaying and wine and hazy lights, Owen realized that maybe he was starting to see the paramedic Captian in a different light. He admired Captian Blake; she was talented, commanding, compassionate, and confident. But tonight he was starting to realize just how much he liked Michelle Blake too. She was softer, funnier, more open. She made him laugh and he enjoyed the sparkle in her eye when they bantered.

Somewhere in between the nights spent at the bar and the late-night chats in the kitchen, something had started. Something that he was just now starting to realize. Something that before this moment here on the dance floor, he had never fully put into context. Something that may be worth exploring further, just to see.

For tonight though, they would just dance.

----

Want to see more? Send me one of these prompts

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #michelle blake #owen strand #prompt fill #sneetchestoo #my writing

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marinette-adrien · 5 years

Text

Help me troll some homophobes

Hey guys, not miraculous related but I need advice.

So I have plenty of homophobic people in my family, sadly. And last night I had one aunt and her daughter come at me, saying I needed to “respect their opinion” about homophobia. Ugh. Sure, Jan.

So I’ll tell you the whole story for context. Last night a cousin of mine, let’s call her Cousin F, asked if anyone knew if it was true that Disney made Elsa a lesbian.

I literally laughed and said that the movie wasn’t out yet, that the plot was already on youtube and that Disney wasn’t that woke. That was just a rumor or something that some fans wanted.

She immediately went on a rant about how she knew how to raise her children (two girls, 3yr and 5yr), implying that I shouldn’t pry or try to tell her how to, and that she was allowed to decide what she thought was in their age-range to watch. You know, the usual bs. Also, wtf with that? It came out of nowhere I swear.

Anyways, I didn’t want to waste my time with someone that I know have no the mental capacity to understand, so I was so not engaging in that conversation. But I wanted to piss her off a little all the same. So I was like, “but why are you so mad? Why are you so defensive? I never said anything about how to raise your kids. You need to calm down” (pun intended)

And of course me playing innocent just set her off. Then her mom joined in (Let’s call her Aunt L) and oh God. I just kept telling them that they needed to calm down and I kid you not, they kept at it until they went to sleep, then some more in the morning. I was actually having a great time pissing them off, but then they started throwing “indirects” to another of my aunts, Aunt B, who has a son with a husband (I love them both, they’re so cool) and tbh I was just like... wow. To her face. How rude.

Aunt L and Cousin F are just oh, that kind of catholic, and even tho I actually never said a word about my actual thoughts or opinions about their homophobia, they were the ones telling me I needed to be more tolerant and not give any opinion if I wasn’t going to accept criticism. Like wtf??? It was hysterical.

Aunt B and I just kept laughing (at them) but after the incident I kept thinking... why the hell the sudden outburst?

Then I realized. I’ve never had a boyfriend and I’m not interested in dating. They were targeting the only two people that weren’t homophobic. One because of her family and me because... they must think I’m a lesbian.

Which, I’m not. I don’t need to be part of the community to be a decent human being but it left me thinking, how can I use this to piss them off even more?

But I’m no expert with these things. I must ask guidance in the only place I know a lot of people would be up to troll some homophobes. I must ask tumblr.

So. Tumblr. Let me hear your ideas. Out of this situation. Any suggestion for future trolling? Let me read you in reblogs, responses and tags. Make it good.

#not miraculous related #help me piss off some homophobes

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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883

1. What kind of textures do you enjoy most in your food? Crunchy, crispy, soft, hard, grainy, slimy, etc? I love chewing on any meal that involves rice. Born and raised with it, can’t feel full without it. I’ll give a special mention to slimy too, because I love seafood.

2. Do you keep up any seasonal decorations outside of their season? No. My mom removes our Christmas decor by late January, which is when Christmas season ends here. We don’t decorate for other holidays.

3. Can you remember the most awkward situation you've ever been in? What happened? Ugh god. Any time I’m left alone with Gab’s dad is bound to be awkward because he’s very quiet and stoic and I tend to be a vibrant, cheery people-pleaser and nothing I do will muster more than two words out of him...but our most awkward moment has to be when I was at their place and he had to leave to run some errands. I stood up and walked over to give him a hug, but for some reason the floor was slippery and I started to do the world’s clumsiest and longest stumble. As an instinct, I held on to his arm and shirt so that I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. It was terrible and nothing I could’ve done or said would’ve saved that situation. EUGH I’m wincing right now lmao

4. Can you remember the most scary situation you've ever been in? What happened? [trigger warning] Would have to be the time when my grandfather got too drunk off his ass that he physically assaulted one of my cousins, then a toddler. My aunt (cousin’s mom) is a little on the delicate and petite side and couldn’t do anything to confront my grandpa, who went on his rage for like 10, 15 minutes. Certainly felt like forever. Nothing has traumatized me more and that’s saying a lot, considering it’s been 13 years and I’ve been through tons of shitty situations.

5. Do you do anything unusual to help you concentrate? It’s not very weird but I did install an extension on my browser that would let me list certain sites (usually social media) I’d want blocked whenever I have work. I suppose not everyone has that kind of program so it kinda counts as unusual.

6. Do you ever wonder what your parents were like as children/teenagers? With my dad, yes. My mom tells me enough stories. I know her family hit a rough patch when she was a teenager and they had to sell a bunch of their stuff, including a grand piano. She went from living a comfortable life to having to skip meals in college because she only had enough money for her daily commute.

7. Do you think suicide is ever "okay?" Groan, this is so triggering. I’m not elaborating on this, soz.

8. Would you rather a close family member/close friend/significant other die of suicide or murder? Why is this? “>> I think having to deal with a murder investigation would be terribly messy and intrusive, and would add more trauma on top of what I’m already dealing with.” < All of this. You don’t always get closure with murders, too. And I would hate that.

9. In your opinion, what is the worst thing someone could ever do? Raping an infant is definitely up there for me.

10. In your opinion, what is the best thing someone could ever do? Be a positive change or impact in someone’s life. Idk, I’m easy to please.

11. Do you think about any fellow xangans outside of xanga? I’ll change the context of this question to Tumblr so I can answer it. And yes I do, sometimes. Not in a creepy way or anything; it usually happens when I encounter something in real life that I know another survey-taker likes.

12. What military installation is the closest to you? Fort Bonifacio.

13. Do you still open your windows during winter? We don’t get winter but yeah, December is the best time to leave the windows open throughout the night. It’s also a great time to be able to save on electricity haha

14. How cold is too cold? How hot is too hot? I’ve lived in a tropical country all my life so I’m a big-ass wimp when it comes to the cold, even though I love it more. I start shivering at around 23ºC. Too hot is anything reaching the 40s.

15. Would you rather lose both legs or both arms? Why? Legs. I use my hands a lot more, so it would be slightly more difficult if I suddenly had to move about without them.

16. If you committed a crime that landed you in prison for the rest of your life, but were given the option to receive the death sentence instead, which would you choose? Why? Death. I get to have the infamous ~last meal~. Lol in all seriousness though, I’d pick it because it would be a quick release for me, I guess. It’s a big reason why I’m not a fan of death penalty...it’s too easy an escape for criminals who deserve a lot worse.

17. Is there any specific album you can listen to in its entirety and enjoy every single song? After Laughter - Paramore

18. Would you rather be a famous movie star, television star, or musician? I don’t have talents that would make me succeed in any of these fields...I guess it’d be fun to be a movie star though.

19. If you are not religious, have you ever eaten dinner with a group of people that were and said grace before eating? How was this for you? If you are religious and say grace before dinner, have you ever eaten dinner with a group of people that weren't and didn't say grace before eating? How was this for you? Yes. I’m from a Catholic family, so we pray before every meal. I do a sign of the cross but barely, just so my mom sees I move my hands when we start the prayer; but I haven’t recited grace since I told myself I was going to be atheist.

20. Do you think an evil Santa or an evil Easter Bunny would make a better villain in a horror movie? I’d go with Evil Santa mostly because I have no attachment to the Easter Bunny whatsoever, and because it’d be hilarious to see a man with reindeer be mean.

21. Did you ever think any fictional story-book character was creepy as a child? Do you still think any of them are creepy? Yes. That girl who wears a ribbon around her neck still gives me the fucking creeps.

22. Would you rather wear nothing but white or nothing but black? Is there any color you'd actually want to wear head-to-toe? Black. I’ve done that many times, so it wouldn’t feel weird.

23. What physical/mental health problems run in your family? Do you have any of the same problems? I’m almost certain there are underlying issues on my mom’s side but seeing as none of us have ever gotten ourselves checked (and most of them don’t believe in mental health problems anyway) I doubt I’ll ever find out what exactly’s wrong.

24. What is your mental and physical health like right now? They are both doing surprisingly well considering how long I’ve had to stay home and how much everything has turned upside down. I’ve only had two bad breakdown in four months and I’ve since recovered from that nasty fever I got, so I can’t complain.

25. If you found a suitcase (with no information about the owner) with a million dollars inside of it , would you turn it into the police or keep it? Be honest. ;] “>> See, a million dollars is an exorbitant sum. There is no way I could just casually make off with a missing million and not suffer repercussions. It's just too much goddamn money, and in this particular scenario, it's highly likely that it's a trap of some sort (whether set for me, or set for someone else and my dumb ass just happened to stumble across it). I'm not dumb enough to try it.

Neither would I necessarily want to turn it in, because that might cause me to get involved in something I didn't want or need to be involved in. The most logical course of action for me would be to leave it the fuck alone.” < Yeup.

26. Would you rather gaze at the stars or clouds? Stars. The fact that they’re so much farther away makes them more fascinating to me.

27. Are they any foods you used to enjoy but no longer like? Are there any foods you used to dislike but now enjoy? There’s a certain brand of frozen sisig that I used to looooove and would have multiple servings of every time I had it. But I had it one too many times and now I can’t even stand the smell of it. On the other hand, I hated chicken curry as a kid, but I can’t get enough of it now.

28. Do you feel much older or younger than you are? Why? Neither. I just feel 22.

29. Did you get along with kids that were older or younger than you? I mostly got along with kids of the same age. I found younger kids too rowdy and being around older kids always felt intimidating.

30. Do you know any magic tricks? Nopes.

31. How much would life suck for you if you had a wheat allergy? A lot.

32. Are you able to watch gory scenes in movies? Why or why not? For sure. I always want to see how far FX artists can go; and if used correctly, gory scenes can be super integral to the movie. Midsommar is a really good example.

33. Do you constantly check the time? Does time seem to move quickly or slowly for you? Not anymore. I used to check it a lot while I was still in school. Sigh, I miss that life so much. Anyway, time definitely felt slower during the first few weeks of the lockdown, but now that I’m used to it days just fly by. I can hardly believe we’re nearly in the middle of July. So much of this year has been wasted. It’s miserable.

34. Would you rather live in a nice house in a bad location, or a less-than-nice house in a great location? I’m taking the great location. I don’t know if I can last living in a shady area, no matter how beautiful my house is.

35. Have you ever been a witness to a horrible crime? What happened? Domestic violence is the worst thing I can think of. I enumerated one of them in one of the earlier questions, but I witnessed several other cases as a kid.

#survey #surveys

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motakimask · 6 years

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Living on Icarus Colony Part 4: The Rel clan.

Nemmenitah, known for many things such as being one of the most social races on their native galaxy or being exellent hunters even at a young age but, a little detail that surprises some, is their clans, and our local Nemmenitah, Zet, is going to elaborate a little bit on how they work.

Zet: Aye´teh, Io-tah´me coibrea-ih (Okay, I´ll ask her), Tia! can you come here for a second?

Tia: Yeah, why- Hi Ms. Aih,Rel.

Aih´Rel: You can call me Aih, ih´okora (translate to a formal version of daugther in law)

Tia: I cant, it feels like I´m disrespecting you...

Aih´Rel: that how we do it here, no need to feel ashame for it...

Zet: Ey´phe, we already talk about this, humans dont have the clan system we got...

Aih´Rel: Ke! ah-meih´tó coah! io-kota´náyoh! (Ke! come here! i got a question!)

Ke´Rel: Aye´teh- Zet... Hi Tia...

Zet: Hi Ae´phe...

Tia: Hi mrs. Ke´Rel...

Aih´Rel: Dont humans call their parents in law by their names?

Ke´Rel: If they are somehow close and sometimes because they hate each other, as far as I know, but I could be wrong, why do you ask?

Aih´Rel: see, you can call us by our name!

Zet: *Facepalms*

Ke´Rel: Aih, humans have different manners...

Zet: Yio´káh! (thanks you!)

Ke´Rel: by the way, when are you getting married?

Zet: *Almost falls of the chair* Ae´phe!

Tia: Whit all respect, we aren´t thinking about marriage right now, I know how important of that but we agree on giving ourself some time before that kind of decision...

Aih´Rel: Well, when that finally happends you´ll be welcome into the Rel clan!

Ke´Rel: Please dont get her scared...

While Zet´s parents discuss over that, the voices of two little kids and what would be a girl into what Nemmenitas call teenage years scream at the background...

Min´Rel: ih´vira!

Tia: hi...

Ya´Rel: Tia! When are you coming to visit us?

Min´Rel: it shouln´t be difficult, aren´t you half Eldemaeran?

Di´Rel: Aye´teh! hu-ku´reahn tsóht! me´to-shiou coah... sorry for that (Hey! you plittle pieces of shit! come back here...)

Ke´Rel: we... we´ll thalk abot that later...

Aih´Rel: Ok... when your simblings start a fight means that we already talk enought... We´ll talk another day, Yóh´nneah!

Ke´Rel: Yoh´nneah ekoro...

Zet´s simblings: Yóh...

Zet: Yóh´nneah ve!

Tia: Ok... goodbye...

After an awkward goodbye (specially for Tia) Zet just turn of the holo-screen of the phone and just fell on the floor and covered his face while screaming “why”...

Tia: Dont get me wrong, I like your family but sometimes they can get a little bit...

Zet: Annoying? I know...

Tia: Dont worry, I can handle everyone in the clan...

Zet: You got no Idea how our clans are?

Tia: Huh?

Zet: *Gets up* Nemmenitah clans are big, like seriously, seven simblings like yours are nothing, in fact, everyone criticizes my parents for having only five, and now one is dead...

Tia: Ok... Tell me everything... You always listen to my stuff so the least I can do is to do the same...

Zet: Is not only my parents and simblings, you also got my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, even the pets are part of the clan and let me tell you, it is a mess, everyone in my mom´s side is... a mess...

Tia: And on your dad´s side?

Zet: I dont know them, that how it works, when a couple gets married one moves to the clan with more “prestige”... I cant find a better word...

Tia: kind off like someone taking their spouse´s last name?

Zet: Yeah... acording to dad, he came from a clan of gatherers, he met mom when he joined the local hunters, at the point they got married dad join the Rel clan and he ended up staying home to raise my simblings and I...

Tia: So you get married, lost contact with your family and abandon your job to take care of the kids?

Zet: I know it sound bad but... I´ll give it some context, dad never get along with his orininal clan, in normal circumstances we would actually knew his clan, as for the job and kids part, it use to be a rule a long time ago but nowadays is not necessary, dad started to work from home when Xa was born...

Tia: Doesn´t sounds as bad as I tought it was...

Zet: Listen, I love my family, I love my clan, I got nothing againts them but... For us marriage is something important, a lot, more than what you spect and I love you but I dont want to preassure you into-

Tia: I dont think we are ready for marriage,but I´ll still want to be with you, I know your parents probably want some sort of ceremony but I... may have an idea...

Zet: What are you talking about?

Tia: Didn´t you have a tradition involving necklaces?

Zet: Engaged couples give them to each other, is like humans using rings.

Tia: We aren´t engaged but I guess we can buy a pair of those and explain your clan that is our way to say “hey, we love each other even if we haven´t get married”

Zet: Well... my dad made my mother´s necklace, and Xa´s fiance give her something personal, grandpa got grandma something with her name...

Tia: Does it needs to be something specific?

Zet: If we are going to do that I want to give you something that has a meaning...*takes off an extremely long bracelet* here... it´s not a necklace but i guess if you untie it...it could fit on your neck...

Tia: but I got nothing to give you... WAIT!

Tia runs towards the wardrobe in their room and searches for an old dress she hasn´t wear in a while, rips off something located on the back of the dress and gives it to Zet.

Tia: I never knew why someone would put strings with of crystals in the back of a dress but hey, they finally got a purpose... I hope this counts...

Zet: It´s... More than perfect! *hugs Tia*

This obviously ends up in both of them just kissing, laugthing and just such way that this narrator can only describe as “so sweet that would give you diabetes”...

Motaki´s notes: the ending says it all, besides I felt like I should write something focusing on their relationship, at least how it is when they have those cliche and sappy moments because most of the time they just act the most casual way ever, and yes, this happened before Naga visited them... And i deleted the original post and re-upload it because for some reason it would disappear from my porfile and then appear after re-loading the page for a few times...

#Living on Icarus Colony #aliens #oc #story #humans are weird

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fmdxjerome · 6 years

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hello people from old and new! naomi is back in action with her son jerome. i’ve been stuck in my sisters house for the last weeks of my absence because she went on vacation and i had to take care of a sick rabbit who peed everywhere. i might have a disease now at the amount he bit me but what can you do. im joking. you might ask “but naomi doesnt your sister have wifi” yes she do but i’m an anxious wreck so spending my days on a first floor apartment with my sister on the other side of the world w an infected foot had me fucke d upppp boiii but now i’m back in my own home and my sister + her boyfriend are safely home!! foot all fine!! and everyone is calm again!! so!! i can return with a good heart. i’ll be sliding in the dms of the people who bear emoticon’ed me 600 years ago and bc i suck w introducing myself to new people i’ll just hi!!!!! i think when i wake up i’m gonna do a “bio reading” marathon as i write bc i need to appreciate. also shit i need more threads wow i suck might see me replying to some open starters and def need to get back to plotting bc there are some people i’ve been dying to thread with ;^;

its like 6am now so i might b heading 2 bed now but under the cut there will be a reintroduction to jerome (one i promised in januari i believe) as im rewriting his bio (no major things change really its just minor things nd its time for an upgrade) so yes! hello (ims will come tomorrow as well ;3;)

also fact. mullet daddy jaebum is jerome rn dont drag him dont @ him its gone before you know it. probs after idolized its a look tho wow i love- a chic farmer (... the short bangs are tragic tho jerome honey i kno u liked them on wren but ur not wren. jerome: but i- me: no. this this not this jerome: :( ok fine me: fuego

anyway before i pass out here is reintroduction. the triggers are; adoption, racism themes??? like yeah ok!! apologize if this is shit. hope everyone is having a good day though you all are great!

Jerome Gauthier aka Yuddy

-Anti idol

-Has an okay reputation but that’s because he’s smart about things.

-BC eyeing him tho *eyes fake friends with good reputation for him to hang out with* (hmu for fake friend plots. funny the person w the best rep of all actually likes jerome. bless jisoos christ. guess that praying on knees worked out in the end huh jerome. /dont/ sainthood is waiting)

-Talented™. (ask him to write songs for you) (Actually have a few songs in my library i want him to write but not sing so *eyes*)

-Passionate as fuck don’t mess with him in the studio (passionate all over tbh)

-Adopted and in search of his bloodlines

-Hoe but not really

-Actually, scrap that. Nicknames him JerHOEme

-Is actually lovely

-But acts like a shit

-Slips up and is soft to people sometimes before being a complete and utter asshole the next second

-bc soft jerome whOMST i only know deMON

-Suave Fuckboy who’s nonchalant about everything

-French™

-Will call you baby at some point in your life

-Signature smirk

-Egotistic???? Narcissistic??? a lil bit don’t stroke his ego

-Secretive™. not much info on his time in france

-Secretly a dad without children (except for his actual biological son insoo aka chorizo sausage who he goes to play ball with- i mean work on songs in the studio. seriously catch him picking up his son from soccer practice i mean shit no i mean- ok insoo is really his son dont fight me on this.)

-And also has a daughter an Oriental shorthair cat called Edith who he is so soft with he kicks out girls to cuddle with her. (one meow and he’s home)

- we support WISH hating jerome in this household. please people who have girls in WISH dont let them like him (or be a rebel and go against the mothers wishes but you’ve been warned)

-Dont let him get in your pants too like ask wren you dont want that (or i mean with the list of kinks i peeped maybe idk who am i to say what your muse wants or does not want idk im just protecting people from satan)

-Unlikely he’ll get in any pants now anyway tho bc he a proud shopper at papa juliens pizza and y’all some other brand type ish domino lookin asses NAH *throws hands up* rome’s in the house (no but guys. this is his soulmate THIS IS HIM. dISgUStiNG- )

-In 2016 interview took him out of context and it looks like he hates all idol rappers but is not true. He just doesn’t like companies making rap out to be like this thing you can do if you’re pretty and you can’t sing and he doesn’t like it when said pretty idols know nothing of it. he gets the grind but will side eye (benjy nd jerome already have a rivalry bc of this shit thank u interviewer)

-Dating scandals?? EHH. He almost had one with a Japanese model called Momo in the beginning of his career but BC did well of spinning them as friends and he legit had one with his ex last october which?????????? shit she touched his *spoiler* and it was *spoiler* . BC about to ban him from fashion shows damn. yoonah and him have to go to paris fashion week quick

-BC has yet to force him into a relationship tho. but damn he gonna be angry when that ever happens yoo.

-Studied to become a cinematographer. Now is annoying as fuck during recording MV’s bc he butts into everything (BUT thats why his his mvs so AESTHETIC. eye for beauty bois)

-Holler at ya boi if you want a nice mv he’s involved like that

-Also to the girls who have been in an MV with Jerome.. know he probably flirted with you between takes bc during he’s grade a professionalism but he still a ho

-Actual catlady no questions asked (he feeds stray cats and gets cut up by edith when she smells other cats on him rip)

-Actual wife material no questions asked (to quote the great Halit Yilmaz during that time Jerome stood in the kitchen for hours making baklava and other Turkish treats for Halit’s Eid al-Fitr: “Shit, Jerome if you were a girl i’d marry you in a heartbeat.” and its true. we would ALL marry jerome. who says no is lying. )

-Smooth™

-Ok the ego thing btw its weird its an act but hes weird about it dont ask

idk what else to write ok short rundown of his bio as again i’m writing a new one and i cringe every time i look at my old one. im probs forgetting a lot but EYO ITS 6AM WHO CARES

CHILDHOOD age 0 to 10

-Born to a single mom who got fucked over by a smash nd dash dad. (we side eye Ok Chanwook in this household.)

-Moms family discouraged her from taking care of him herself so putting up for adoption it is.

-Very emotional not ok mom boram cry a lot pls. (got v angry too like boi if she ever sees chanwook again he can change his name to no dick larry)

-Adopted by a French couple called Lucas and Daphné (previously named Annelies). pretty kool peeps

-JK racist assholes who fetishize jerome a lot. PLEASE. the yellow fever runs deep. take him away from them,

-Raised in a small town in France and knew 0 Asians growing up. so thats nice

-Loves his adoptive grandpa to death tho (who’s he named after u3u)

-Actually hates the rest lol

-Ok uncle Rémy pretty cool bc he laughs at teen!Jerome shit talking his parents and aunt Camille. She a sweety ;3; a bit odd but a sweety #stanauntCamille

-Basically the people on the Gauthier side and born from Jerome and Clemintine are ok, the rest is shit (except for his dad Lucas. He a Gauthier but he shit)

-Junior/Senior relationship w granpda ;3; “Pépé!!” “Junior!!” *tiny jerome swings around grandpa’s neck* LOVE

-Grandma passed when he was 9. (he loved her very much and would always show her his drawings on her bed ;-;)

-Hard time adjusting at first when he was a tiny toddler. had a lisp talking french. ;3; baby rome

-young jerome had a bad case of the abandonment issues he literally held onto his dads leg for like 30 minutes before the teacher finally peeled him away from him. my smol boi

-Elephants. remember this. is important. /sob

-TLDR; biological mom didnt want to loose him. adoptive parents and dad are fucks. grandpa is kool. jerome had a good childhood until he didnt. thank u ignorance

TEEN YEARS age 10 to 20

-middle school very nice

-j FUCKING KKKKK EMO JEROME INBOUNDDDD

-kids are mean. teens are mean. young!jerome v lonely

-honestly he had no friends. except for like maybe this one kid on his sport called mattheo but he kinda a weeb so uhhhh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-the time comes that he feels uncomfortable with everything korean. he already learned korean along side french and english when he was growing up but now distances himself from further learning. he clings to french culture a lot and even to this day he refers to himself as french and european, and rarely refers to himself as korean or asian.

-feels disconnected from both though. its like.. his parents took his korean culture away from him by using it for their own amusement. it was not his to have basically. and french- a lot of people around him give the vibe he’s not “allowed” to call himself fully french. they see him as korean, korean-french but never just french. he feels very misunderstood. lack of identity and just not fitting in

-around this time (or earlier i’m musing still) his cousin Antonin (moms side) kind of fell out on him. like. wow. not good. fucked jerome up a lil. (issues intensify)

-inferiority complex inbound/ is he ok? no he isnt. he starts writing to get his emotions out.

-Blessed Freddy rolled in teen jerome’s life like: guess we need to do history homework together jerome: aren’t you gonna make a ‘do my homework bc you’re asian’ joke freddy: why would i jerome:

-they bond over music, freddy is the one who gets him serious about getting into it (we thank our lord freddy for this gift of life we call singer/songwriter jerome. pray to freddy 10 times a day *srry jisoos christ but ur out*)

-literally young jerome would be a great soundcloud artist in this day and age. he was like joji meets rei brown with more of an rnb tinge. he liked ambient because it calmed him.

-in his old bio thats still up bc im a slow writer his old name was some dumb shit like l.only DUMB its romeles now (get it.. jeROME LESlie gauthier. im smart)

-OK IM GONNA GO QUICKER NOW

-eMO FOR A LONG TIME BC OF LONELINESS AND OTHERING FREDDY IS HIS BEACON OF HOPE WE LOVE FREDDY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!!!!!!

-had a big ass fall out with his parents when he was around 15? was like “UHHH FUCK Y’ALL” and moved in with his grandpa (he was very disrespectful like damn boy but you know what. i support)

-best decision of his life because grandpa v lonely after his wife died and Jerome^2 is… so soft.

-Jerome dancing/singing to old tunes and being engrossed with old movies

-Learning how to cook ;3;

-I mean bc his middle and highschool were in Laval he spend a lot of his time w his grandpa already so he already had a bed and ;-; #jerome^2

-Halit rolls into his life. Braces, huge smile, lil prepubescent stash ohmygod. My child.

-BLANC is born. Freddy/Jerome/Halit’s musical trio. Stan the Three Musketeers

-Found his first best friend and a purpose in Freddy. Found a home in Halit. (sob)

-Finds solace in rnb and hiphop. People start noticing him because of it. Writes songs and performs them in café’s. Found his niche. 15 to 19 where his “best” years

-THE BIG MOVE. After a concerned halit mom, a proud freddy mom and a “WHAT THE FUCK JEROME NO DONT GO” jerome mom they pack their bags and PARIS HERE WE COME

-Enter ex who haunts his life, Seo Yumi aka Marie (now model, v pretty, makes me cry)

-Spots her in the summer doing yoga in the park and boi he an assman so he got fucked up (jk he saw her face and was like wHAT love at first sight

-enrolls in film school, meets her there again and wow falls in love hard like wow calm down boy

-Dating~~~v possessive not good at ALL cALM DOWN JEROME

-ok he got his issues nd marie was the first one who openly listened to his problems and understood and made him appreciate his korean heritige bc she’s korean and showed him cultural aspects without the gross fetishizing that came with his parents and he just- he got intense ok. he already got a v intense personality so- still not good tho he needs to dial it down

-she thought so too and like after a year she was !!!! what the fuck. she is not one for serious relationships but jerome was like ehhh why not in the beginning its v nice to hear nd be seen as the most beautiful ok but then it got suffocating but instead of breaking up with him she kept him around. he a safe haven ya know. reliable. someone to built on later. *i wanna say she also didnt break up w him because his emo stories but marie,,, eh...* (funny tho like she got a thing for bad boys so she just “this is the fifth time you called me beautiful just degrade me lil like choke me idk” and jerome just “w-why would i do that you’re beautiful i dont want to hurt you” ah *looks into the future* ohhowthetableshaveturned.mp4 )

-Marie cheated on him the second she got the chance which was when jerome went to america w his bros

-Got offered a job as a songwriter when in ny. Wouldnt think he’d take it but after getting kicked out of school for beating the shit out of the guy marie cheated on him with and with marie out of the picture nothing held him back from starting a new life.

-TLDR; emo era. silver era. emo era 2 emo harder

ADULTHOOD age 20 to now

-Seoul make way for the rise of YUDDY™

-the name yuddy is from the film days of being wild. the character is kinda yuddy-ish too so he saw the film again and yep. thats my name

-Fuck_love.mp3

-Visits his orphanage. they like “nah boi u aint got no papers boi”

-Parents can give him access to his birthmother btw, aren’t doing it lol

-EMO

-Drinks. Sleeps around. Gets a reputation. You kno how it is. (gr8 ride tho. highly recommend. 5 out of 5 stars on yelp)

-SMASH ND DASH. Chanwook is that u??????

-One girl who he got with multiple times reminded him of Marie tho and that fucked him up for a bit (PSST ITS A PLOT WINK SO IF YA GIRL OF AGE IN THE 2013′S HMU BC ITS DRAMATIC HE GHOSTED THE SHIT OUT OF HER)

-Writes a lot of songs, a few for BC (knight baes). BC like *eye emoji* who dat boi who him iz

-Gets sign w BCreate and is like eyy life pretty good

-but lmao he debut and oh who’s that pretty girl promoting that lipstick?? oh.. its marie ;3;

-imfine.jpeg

-Joins main label and literally joins w a blessing stream limbo on spotify

-wgm era was a great era of jerome lmty his hair was great, shared cute personal things, manager was happy, slept with his best friend, was married to a sweet beautiful girl ya know the good stuff 👍 no im not crying you are

-triple fantasy era was awful we dont talk about that he looked like his brother and i’m still emotional about him wow.

-instagram is a great song

-Interviewer: u mention an ex in ur song tell me more Jerome: *SWEATS*

-Marie: my short hair DOES look pretty thank u babe ur red hair was cute too <3<3

-The fact she linked to him now is spook

-But ok he still flirty, still daring, still yuddy™ but definitely less of the whole “sleeping around” thing now bc he… he uhh closetoyou.mp3

TLDR; he turned into his dad but romeo is rising AND HE IS SCARED!!!!!

also never forget jerome is the messiest king in this ok non y’all are as messy as him. he fucked his ex’s friend oK THERE IS NOTHING MORE MESSY. dONT COME FOR HIS CROWN

#Writer Speaks.#ooc. { i dont want to reset the clock again it says 6am in this post its almost 7am i've been here since 4 i'm slower than usual wow }#{ almost 7 its 7.30 i got to stop ok }#{v sleepy now so!! goodnight talk to everyone in a few hours}

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otnesse · 4 years

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Been banned by ****IrisHatersSay simply for disagreeing with her on May and Misty, but will still reply to her points anyways, merely out of obligation.

“Oh my God. You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?”

Well, gee, considering the entire point of a discussion is to continue talking, yeah, I don’t know WHEN to stop.

“Okay, I guess we’re back to equating skill development with character development. And the Johto stretch just wasn’t good.”

The Johto stretch may have been excessive, but at least THAT had actual lasting results that carried over into the next saga, such as Ash beating Gary, not to mention advancing to top 8, which even if we don’t count his win at the Orange Islands is still a major improvement compared to in Kanto where he barely made Top 16 (and for circumstances beyond his control, namely Team Rocket abducting him). AG, on the other hand, literally had by its end May being replaced with a girl who shared the EXACT same goal as her, rendering her arc pointless in the end, had Ash winning Top 8 AGAIN, and even when Ash did end up gaining the one actual accomplishment for that saga, beating the Frontier Brains, not to mention beating Brandon’s Regice with Pikachu single-handedly, the whole accomplishment got treated as a joke by Gary (who beat Pikachu with Electivire despite Gary pretty much being retired from training by that point), not to mention Paul twice (and both times with explicitly rookie Pokemon).

“Nah, the kindergarten teacher argument is still dumb. Pokémon trainers are more like parents to their Pokémon. They raise Pokémon. And May was still not an abuser.”

If a parent outright ends up HATING the profession of child-raising and child-rearing, they aren’t fit to be a parent, period. Doesn’t matter if they’re abusers or not. Though that being said, it does tend to outright lead into abuse if they hate the child. Just look at Lois Griffin, hated Meg her eldest daughter, and was very abusive towards her.

“Okay, so you didn’t watch AG. Let me pull out my meme.”

Just because I didn’t watch AG doesn’t mean I didn’t look up various stuff like episode summaries/synopses and getting a gauge on the episodes via trivia sections and or other things. I usually use those as compensation for when I don’t watch a series myself. Second-hand knowledge, if you will. Besides, just because you’ve watched something directly doesn’t mean you’re actually right. Thomas Jefferson personally witnessed the events of what would become known later on as Bastille Day while acting as the American Ambassador to France, and he ended up being completely wrong in his assessment of the French Revolution, singing praises for the Jacobin murderers (ironically, John Adams, who never actually set foot in France at all during that time, had a far more accurate assessment of what that event would result in, being ahead of the curve compared to even his fellow Founding Fathers’ assessments, let alone Jefferson).

“Also, reacting differently to stressors in your environment is true. Everyone does not have the same DNA code. I’m pretty sure psychologists are aware of this, genius.”

Of course people don’t have the same DNA code (well, barring maybe identical siblings, but even there, there’s slight variances), but that doesn’t mean people can’t have similar reactions. As far as psychologists, considering psychologists literally convinced my cousin that she was gay just because she had slight trouble with men (something which my mom, who actually HAD psychologist training from trying to train for nursing, was aghast at), I have zero reason to trust them at their word regarding that bit. Besides, even if that were true, it doesn’t change the fact that she outright hated the Pokemon Training profession at the start, which is STILL inexcusable.

“Suffering is not a competition. This is not the Suffering Olympics. And for the record, May and Norman’s relationship did appear to have quite a bit of emotional distance and strain in it. If you actually watched AG, you’d probably know that.”

At least Norman’s actually IN her life, and not as a deadbeat dad, and at least she HAS an actual loving family to go to, unlike Misty and Brock, who were abandoned by their parents and in the case of Brock pretty much was forced to act as the closest thing they had to a parent until Flint came home, and had to endure fairly abusive siblings in Misty’s case. No matter how much emotional strain there might have been between May and Norman, it’s still nothing compared to outright abandonment (and not even “abandonment to protect your child and/or not deal with bad memories of a rape” kind of abandonment, but more “screw you kid, I’m not dealing with you anymore” kind of abandonment due to Misty and Brock regarding the Gym’s difficulties), to say little about outright abuse, and you know it. Now, if Norman and Caroline treated her like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia Dursley did to Harry Potter by barely feeding scraps from the table, forcing him to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs up until his first year in Hogwarts (and even THEN, only out of a failed attempt at preventing the Owls from delivering Harry’s acceptance letter), and even doing stuff like outright starving him or locking him up for various reasons, heck, even deeply considering feeding him to Dementors, THEN you might have a point regarding how May’s interactions with her parents were a lot worse than Misty and Brock’s were, not to mention actually warranted.

“Liking a certain type of female character does not mean you are not a misogynist. A lot of sexist dude bros like certain female characters. Doesn’t mean they’re not misogynists.”

The literal definition of misogyny is “hatred of women”. I’m pretty sure true misogynists would outright HATE a woman simply for BEING a woman at all, not caring about her personality or character. Want a real misogynist? Look at General Blue from Dragon Ball: https://youtu.be/_wyt1Aq6hm8 Also Chi Fu from Mulan. THAT’S what an actual misogynist acts like, where they can’t so much as even STOMACH being six feet from a girl, being revulsed by them (not fearful of them, just disgusted with them).

“And May did receive good development. A narrative direction you don’t like ≠ bad writing.”

Actually, it is bad writing, and I would have said it was bad writing even if I DID like the narrative direction/character. I said the same thing about Disney’s Beauty and the Beast and Beast’s development earlier, and in case you’ve forgotten, unlike May, I actually LIKED Beast as a character.

“Nope, the Bible was still written by men. God was not sitting up in Heaven with a typewriter and poof it down to Earth. And yeah, let’s glorify how Christians committed genocide in order to convert people.”

We didn’t commit genocide in order to convert people. As far as the Bible, it was written by God, and handed down to us. It was certainly not written by men. Use your head, if it were written by men, and had biases from fallable people like men, don’t you think Jesus Christ, the Son of God, would have made sure to, I don’t know, outright destroy any passages that tarnish God’s view on things, and do so in a very public manner I ought to add?

“Also, Sodom and Gomorrah is NOT about homosexuality. It’s about hospitality. If you weren’t an awful person, you’d know that. And while we’re on this topic, homosexuality is not a sin. Comparing references to homosexuality in the Bible and what we think of being LGBT in modern times is like comparing apples and oranges. First of all, you are blatantly ignoring historical context. The homosexuality referenced in the Bible is outlawed because of its connection to pagan rituals. There is nothing to even suggest that two people of the same gender who happen to be in love is bad. Being trans is also fine. Trans men are men, and trans women are women.”

1. Regarding the first part, those mob of men who came over to Lot’s house to interact with the two men who arrived (actually angels of God) certainly were acting very “hospitable” to them, considering they were trying to make them sleep with them. Or maybe I should quote the specific passage for you just so you realize that hospitality was far from the reason for its destruction: “The two angels arrived at Sodom in the evening, and Lot was sitting in the gateway of the city. When he saw them, he got up to meet them and bowed down with his face to the ground. 2 “My lords,” he said, “please turn aside to your servant’s house. You can wash your feet and spend the night and then go on your way early in the morning.”“No,” they answered, “we will spend the night in the square.”3 But he insisted so strongly that they did go with him and entered his house. He prepared a meal for them, baking bread without yeast, and they ate. 4 Before they had gone to bed, all the men from every part of the city of Sodom—both young and old—surrounded the house. 5 They called to Lot, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them.”6 Lot went outside to meet them and shut the door behind him 7 and said, “No, my friends. Don’t do this wicked thing. 8 Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man. Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But don’t do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof.”9 “Get out of our way,” they replied. “This fellow came here as a foreigner, and now he wants to play the judge! We’ll treat you worse than them.” They kept bringing pressure on Lot and moved forward to break down the door.10 But the men inside reached out and pulled Lot back into the house and shut the door. 11 Then they struck the men who were at the door of the house, young and old, with blindness so that they could not find the door.12 The two men said to Lot, “Do you have anyone else here—sons-in-law, sons or daughters, or anyone else in the city who belongs to you? Get them out of here, 13 because we are going to destroy this place. The outcry to the Lord against its people is so great that he has sent us to destroy it.”14 So Lot went out and spoke to his sons-in-law, who were pledged to marry[a] his daughters. He said, “Hurry and get out of this place, because the Lord is about to destroy the city!” But his sons-in-law thought he was joking.” Genesis 19:1-14. Does that REALLY sound like they were inhospitable to you?

2. Homosexuality IS a sin, actually. Aside from Sodom and Gomorrah as listed above, not to mention Leviticus 18:22, even the likes of Jesus’ apostles, with Jesus’s own blessing mind you, outright said that homosexuals are among those who are barred from heaven. And what’s in the past affects the present, since God’s law does NOT change (well, save for maybe dietary restrictions and/or mixed fabrics).

3. Actually, being trans IS bad. In fact, Deuteronomy 22:5 even explicitly states it’s outlawed to a man to wear a woman’s outfit and a woman to wear a man’s outfit.

“Also, there’s plenty of misogyny in the Bible. And the Bible condones slavery, too. Do you think that’s alright, too?”

The Bible’s reference to slavery actually referred to indentured servants or, you know, people holding jobs. If anything, God also didn’t like the kind of slavery you alluded to since... well, the Book of Exodus made that much very clear.

“Homosexuality is not a choice. This has been proven before, you’re just a bigot.”

Homosexuality IS a choice, and even if it wasn’t, it’s a mental disorder, which means it needs to be cured. And that “proof” was homosexuals outright intimidating the APA into removing it from the list of disorders. It’s like saying psychopathy is not a problem just because it got removed from the DSM book while disregarding that it only got removed because psychopaths actually intimidated the guys writing the book into removing it. There’s even a term for it, “zapping the shrinks”, and in fact, the guy most instrumental in getting it removed, Frank Kameny, outright admitted they got it removed due to outright intimidating them, or to quote him, “ At that point they were afraid to say no to us. So they said yes. “.

“Also, people often later discover they’re not the gender or sexuality they thought they were, so jot that down. That’s not “choosing”, that’s self-discovery. And please, characters are hardly ever confirmed as straight. You just think they are because it’s the norm.”

When previous seasons or comics or what have you depicted the characters as actually dating, heck, even marrying the opposite sex without any indication of NOT being attracted to them, it’s pretty obvious they were in fact straight. “Self-discovery” is a stupid excuse to force a character to change. And for the record, the only reason my cousin became a lesbian was because a psychologist outright said that she was that just because she had some trouble with dating men, and my own mom was upset at the whole thing when she learned of it. And just as an FYI, it’s actually pretty common for homosexuals to become homosexual due to being molested by a sexual predator. It happened with George Takei, and it happened with the guy who founded the so-called “LGBT rights”, Karl Ulrichs. They even admit it, though aren’t willing to confront that they were in fact molested.

“And “ex-homosexuals”??? Either a) they found out they weren’t gay, or b) were victim to conversion therapy. For the record, conversion therapy is abhorrent and should be outlawed.”

I am of the opposite view, that homoseuxality needs to ultimately be cured. Besides, considering the lifestyle has several maladies associated with it, not just STDs, but even being more prone to infections, it’s pretty clear it’s ultimately for their sake to do conversion therapy on them. Besides, what makes you think that the gay person DOESN’T want conversion therapy? What if said gay person actually REQUESTS conversion therapy? Should you refuse him?

“As for that CDC bullshit, homophobic studies don’t count. And it’s literally well-documented that the healthcare issues LGBTQ people face is because of homophobia and transphobia. You can even google this.”

Considering Google has been busted for trying to manipulate search results recently, I don’t think that telling me to do so is really good enough proof. Besides, I’m going by actual medical statistics posted by the CDC.

“Also, you can’t use the d slur if you are not a lesbian yourself. If you do, you’re a lesbophobe.”

N-word priviledges, eh? Well, I never bought that. My idea is, if it’s bad for one to use that word, it’s bad for ALL people to use it, yes, even lesbians. And quite frankly, God already made it clear that homosexuality is a sin, multiple times, including in the New Testament, so whether I am a lesbophobe (that’s a new one) or not is ultimately irrelevant.

“And for the record, I’m not left-wing, and I certainly don’t support communism.”

Really? Because you sure are sounding like you do. And for the record, most leftists DO support homosexuality. Just ask Sartre and Foucault.

"You realize there are other choices between communism and capitalism, right?”

No, actually, there are not. Even Socialism is the same as Communism.

“And I don’t support misogynists, even if they aren’t conservative.”

It’s pointless since you probably won’t read this anyways, but prove it. Walk the walk instead of just talk the talk, to borrow an old cliche. Actually condemn the examples I listed of leftists doing that.

“And Pro-Life does NOT mean you’re not a misogynist. You literally don’t think women can do what they want with their own bodies. And you apparently think a women should have to carry her rapist’s baby, so yeah, you’re a misogynist.”

First of all, Pro-life means defending the baby’s life, which is the most defenseless individual out there. When you’re literally advocating for abortion, you’re advocating for child murder, and what does that make you? Besides, rapists also can demand an abortion just to get rid of any evidence to their rape, so it’s actually disingenous to claim that rapists would want to keep the baby alive. Besides, there’s a little thing called “adoption”. Just because the baby is carried to term doesn’t mean the mother must raise that baby if it was conceived by rape. If she doesn’t want to deal with the fact that she was raped, she can always place the baby into adoption. In fact, NCIS actually dealt with that bit with the character Jack Sloane (and despite the name, Jack’s a woman, a biological woman at that. Jack stands for Jacqueline in this case.). She was raped in college while drunk, yet she still carried the baby to term, and despite clearly loving her newborn daughter, nevertheless put her into adoption largely because she really couldn’t deal with the painful memories of the rape. Ayame from Dead or Alive was a similar case, genuinely loving her daughter Ayane, despite the fact that she existed because Raidou raped her one night. Didn’t have an abortion, but put her into adoption largely thanks to her husband Shiden. And what if the woman DOESN’T want the abortion at all? Besides, the Suffragettes such as Susan B. Anthony were also against abortions, and if anything, they specifically stated that men would use abortions to keep women dependent on men.

“And “let autism define you”…I’m autistic. And upapologetically so. So, apparently you just have some internalized ableism.”

Yeah, I have autism as well, and unapologetically as well. But I don’t use it as a crutch (in fact, rarely see the need to reference it specifically to avoid using it as an excuse), so no, I don’t have internalized ableism.

“That’s not what a Pokémon Stylist is. Serena was a Pokémon Performer. Pokémon Stylists got their own episode in DP. See, this is why you shouldn’t try to complain about shows you don’t watch.”

Fine, I stand corrected there. However, after looking it up on Bulbapedia after you mentioned that it’s not the same as Pokemon Performers, it nevertheless made it VERY clear from various characters such as Paris and Hermione that they were similar to Pokemon Coordinators, and in fact, Paris even specifically stated it was a subset of Pokemon Coordinators, so my point about their similarities still stands right there.

“Lmfao, did you really just play the whole “you’re the real bigot” card??? I’m not a bigot for having no tolerance for intolerance. There is NO REASON I should tolerate intolerance. YOU are still the bigot. A bigot is someone who holds prejudice against other groups, such as LGBTQ people, women, people of color, people with disabilities, etc. YOU fit that bill, especially considering your hatred of LGBTQ people.”

Oh really? Because you seem to be intolerant towards straight people, christians, and all of those types of people, or any traditionally minded women as well. Like an SJW in other words. And for the record, it doesn’t matter what I myself think, what matters is what God thinks since He is in charge of everything. Besides, according to the dictionary, a Bigot is “obstinate and unreasoning attachment to one’s own beliefs and opinions, with intolerance of beliefs opposed to them; also acts or beliefs ensuing from such a condition”, which if anything describes you to a T. At least I make sure to take into account any mistakes I made and admit I’ve made some mistakes in my prior analysis when you point them out (case in point, the bit about Serena having a Stylist goal).

“And people can learn things from another person in ways that don’t involve giving pointers, genius.”

The entire POINT of learning involves being given pointers. That’s even why School exists, not to mention why parents tend to teach their kids life skills.

“I really hope you wake up someday and become a better person, but I doubt you will.”

What you’re acting like is not what God defines as a better person.

“Have fun being an awful and hate-filled person.”

Seriously? I’m the one who at least gave you a chance to talk, and even corrected bits of my analysis that were mistaken. You refused to correct yourself for anything like that. Not to mention you tended to rely on insults and SJW talking points. If anything, you’re the awful and hate-filled person. Nice projection, BTW. And fine, was getting tired of you anyway.

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sporksandthings · 7 years

Text

DDay 2017

This is a hard one, guys.

My father died on October 30, 2011. Every year on the day he died, I’ve gotten the day off work (when needed) and posted something on tumblr. Preferably while drunk. I haven’t planned any of them.

Keeping in mind that this day is really all about me (duh), this one is going to be shared between my dad and my uncle Dave. Which is exactly what my father would have wanted, because it was my uncle Dave, and my dad always knew that he was a very good man.

Dave died on September 27th. And there are three distinct sets of feelings that I’m dealing with as a result. Let’s start with the ugliest ones and work our way up, shall we?

1) Jealousy.

My father died when I was twenty-three years old. By the time he had died, he had alienated everyone who ever cared about him, so that meant that when he passed away I felt like I was completely and utterly alone.

I wasn’t, by the way. But it’s DDay and that’s not important right now.

No one else knew him the way I did. No one else was around for the worst of it, like I was (except for my grandmother). All their grief was false. All the love was on my behalf. No one knew about this man who was my entire world, and no one else could feel the ramifications of his absence. My loss was singular, unique to me. Everyone who pretended otherwise was just that – pretending. I can count on one hand the people who showed up at my father’s service who had spoken to him in the five years prior. And I hated all the rest of them . Which wasn’t fair at all, but I felt it absolutely in the moment.

Dave was a different man than my father. Nearly 200 people were there for his service, and every last one of them had an important, individual relationship with him. The love felt that day was for him, the man who had died, and not entirely those he left behind.

And I’m jealous of that.

I wish my father had more people in his life who loved him. I wish I wasn’t going through this alone. I wish that there were a community of people who felt and knew how good my father could be, when he really tried.

The thing is, it’s been six years now. I’ve gone through the worst shit of my dad dying. Not to say that surprising new emotions aren’t popping up every now and then when I least expect or am least able to deal with them. They totally are. But this is an old, old wound. I hate that I have this nagging, awful thought in the back of my head that’s making someone else’s tragedy about me and my dad. Of course they’re different. Each person is different, each death is different, and equating the two doesn’t give enough credit to anyone involved.

Yet here I am. Being small and petty, even if only to myself. Wishing so much that my dad had more people in his life, that I had been older and more able to deal with the loss, that someone else knew exactly how much the world had lost when he died.

Which leads to point number 2.

2) Dave and my dad.

My dad left my mom to be with Cheri.

I’m pretty sure I was two when this happened, and I have no memory of the actual break-up.

But it was nasty.

I know why my dad did it, and it had a lot to do with the fucked up marriage he and my mother had. Even if it was indelicate (to say the least) and blunt, it made sense for him at the time, and I think my childhood was a lot better for it.

But it really destroyed my mom. It’s only been as I’ve gotten older that I’ve been able to appreciate why my mom was so awful to Cheri during that time, and why it was so hard for her to acknowledge that this woman who ‘stole’ her man was a very real, important, loving part of her daughter’s life.

When my mom and dad separated, nearly all of my mom’s very large family turned against him. They had loyalties, and those were to my mom, and he became a pariah.

There were exceptions. I have an aunt who was determined to be a resource to both of my parents while they were raising a kid. If I hadn’t said it before, I will say it here now and with lots of feeling: Thank god for my aunt Margie.

And then there was Dave.

Dave liked my dad, and he made the decision to be one of Tom’s friends, regardless. Dave had also married into this very large, insane, family, and he had a unique ability to navigate all the bullshit. My mom is one of nine kids and (said with all the affection in the world), they’re all crazy. Dave got along with almost all of them and their partners, and had been getting along with them for about fifteen, twenty years when my parents split up.

And he wasn’t just going to stop talking to my dad because he left my mom.

My dad never begrudged my mom’s family not liking him. He hadn’t been too close to most of them, and those he had been close to he always talked about fondly to me. For example, I know he had been really close to my uncle Mark before he split up with my mom, and after the separation, he never said a bad word about the man who had apparently all but spat in his face when the split happened, because he didn’t want to ruin my relationships with him.

My dad had many faults, but he valued loyalty, and he wasn’t going to poison me toward my mother’s family when they had shown her such devotion. Instead, he always said good things about the people he had been close to before he broke up with my mom, and then tactfully (which, good god, my dad being tactful ever was a god damn miracle) said nothing about the others.

So when Dave was around it was shocking to me.

But Dave was around.

In my life, of course. That was never in question. But also in my father’s life. My father didn’t talk about Dave the way he talked about other family members, because it was always in the immediate. He saw Dave at work (they worked at a bread factory together for a time), Dave was at the house fixing something*, Dave had given him a call.

*So apparently, my dad had called up Dave to fix something in the house Dad, Cheri and I had together. I’m 99% I wasn’t there for this, and I think it was actually Cheri who told it to me this story. I’m not sure what the problem was, but I imagine it was relatively simple for Dave to fix, and so he told my dad not to pay him. Dad wouldn’t have it, pulled out a wad of money and waved it in Dave’s face. Dave backed away, said ‘Fuck no!’ and started running around the living room and into the kitchen, running in a circle around the place with my dad chasing him. Soon, Spirit (the dog) joined in the fun, convinced this was the best game ever, and chased them both as they ran around and around in our tiny house. No one told me the end of the story, but I’m sure Dave didn’t take the money. I’m also pretty sure he’s the only person in my family to ever meet Cheri. The fact that she liked him too says a lot.

There was a certain point when Dave wasn’t keeping up with my dad anymore. It was a bit after the time that everyone else realized that he was too sick to maintain meaningful relationships (in this context, a ‘a bit after’ means a lot). But because of all of the times in between, my dad clearly liked Dave more than all the other members of my mother’s family, and whenever I brought up his name my dad would smile, nod and say, “Dave’s a good guy.”

My dad’s service was awful. I’ve written about how I just found my friend Emily and stuck to her like glue, because she was my constant. Everything else was a sad affair. There was a moment when my cousin (love of my life) asked if anyone wanted to say anything about Tom. There were twenty awkward seconds of silence, and then Dave stood up. And he read a eulogy – a poem – he had written for my dad. He was one of two people to speak.

After the service, he gave me an envelope labeled, ‘Remembering Tom,’ with his poem inside. Given just to me.

I have that envelope and his kind words locked away with all the other things I treasure about my dad. I cherish them the same way I value pictures, stupid rocks with green faces and paintings of boys fishing – they represent my father in way that so few things can.

Dave knew my dad – really knew him – at a time when I thought I was totally alone. And he gave me the words to remember that I was not alone in my love for him, when I most thought I was.

3) Dave

Dad wouldn’t mind me sharing this day with Dave. He would honestly be pretty pissed if I didn’t.

Dave is my example of what a good man should be. Like my dad, he felt things more acutely than many men want to admit to, but he owned up to and followed through on those feelings. His love wasn’t a passive thing, it was active and he ensured that it was felt.

At the end of this August, Dave sent me a text message asking me how I was doing.

How I was doing was sick. Very, very sick. I ignored his text message.

He sent me an email asking me how I was doing.

I responded, letting him know I was sick but getting better but that I missed him.

A week later, he sent me another text message.

He asked me if I was feeling better.

I was and told him as much.

Did I see myself moving back to California?

Probably not, at least not any time soon, I replied.

Then, he responded, we would just have to make sure that we saw each other for more than an afternoon during my latest trip. An entire day. There would be wine and food and he was so looking forward to it.

I was too.

There are very few good male role models in my life. Even my dad knew that, and he loved the fact that I knew and cared about Dave. He wanted him around, to offer me a counterpoint to his own, often erratic, behavior.

I’ve dealt with so many people I care about dying. I’m honestly a little scraped out. I feel much less acutely than I did when I was twenty-three and dealing with it for the first time. I thought that I was done. That any grief left could roll off my shoulders.

The things is, it never just rolls off the shoulders. You get better at pretending it does, but some fundamental part of you is still changed.

I’m not very good with talking to other people who experience loss, because of the ‘scraped out’ ness of it all.

I was talking to my cousin, Dave’s son, and he mentioned a gaping hole. Something lost inside of him that he knew he would never get back.

He’s not wrong. Of course he isn’t.

But for me it’s different. Especially now, four deaths down the line.

For me it’s not a hole. It’s a weight. An added burden you get to carry with you for the rest of your life. And that weight carries with it all you valued about the person you’ve lost. Their faults, their virtues, everything they’ve ever taught you. The things you did to help or hurt them. All of it gets passed to you, because they’re not there anymore to share the load.

Your muscles get stronger the longer they bear this burden. They build up over time, and you get better at pretending that it’s not a strain.

Until, suddenly, you feel the weight more than ever. Without knowing it, you’ve overextended yourself and you have no energy left. None at all.

The alternative is to shrug it off. To push off the grief, make it so it’s not there at all. To forget that it hurts, that the person you missed meant so much to you.

And that’s no option at all.

This is a hard DDay. I’ve lost my other father figure. A great man.

I didn’t properly realize that these hits would keep on coming. But they will. And that’s okay. I just have to make sure that we keep working these muscles.

#dday #dday 2017 #real person post

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starlettemagnechalastor · 5 years

Text

Mun’s history

I grew up in good ol’ Texas, despite being born in Virginia. My mom divorced my biological dad and move to Texas when I was 2, so I really have no memory or connection with my biological dad.

She married my stepdad when I was 5. We moved into his house, and for many years, I always thought I had a normal childhood...

Until I started therapy MANY years later.

Being coerced into thinking back made me realize how fucked the marriage was.

The fighting, the emotional and verbal abuse, the religious indoctrination..

The bullshit gender norms my stepdad tried to force on me.

Example: Women cannot wear hats.

So my mom and I wore caps and whatever hats we liked cause fuck him.

She was miserable in the relationship, they ALWAYS fought. Once, my mom told me he wanted a divorce because I was “too smart.”

I was 6.

And unconsciously, all the abuse of my dad (He often called my younger brother and I names, and would make us paranoid by scaring the shit out of us whenever he could. Once or twice? Fine. But don’t hide behind the walls all the time and jump out at us.), the worthlessness I felt because my religion taught me I was broken and filthy without Jesus (thanks grandma).

I admit, I attempted to take my life when I was 7. I tried to swallow a bottle of pills. We had a whole medicine cabinet and I was easily able to access the medicine. My brother caught on when I gave him my prized snow globe music box and told him I didn’t need it anymore.

My mom burst into my room as I opened the bottle.

She hid all medications and all sharp objects for months. But I wasn’t taken to a therapist.

No professional to help me.

10 years of age: One day, my mom snapped and attempted suicide by shooting herself with my dad’s gun. He tried to grab the gun, and a bullet fired. It hit her side and broke their bathroom sink. Police woke me up in the middle of the night, and my grandmother was there in tears.

Middle school: I was forced into a christian school, my mom was paranoid over gossip of the public middle school. And of course, when the ENTIRE class was questioned about their faith...I hesitated. Which made me an instant target for severe bullying. From people pretending to have romantic interest in me, to physically assaulting me. I kept it to myself for my entire middle school life, until the day they busted my bike, which was how I got home. And despite the school saying the damages would be covered and I’d get an apology letter, that never happened.

My mom moved me to a charter school.

The only significant memories I have of THAT gem was that they tried to get me to CHEAT on a TAKS test and that I was bullied for being a virgin.

I told my parents about the TAKS, they confronted the school staff...and they held me back.

So, repeating 10th grade in a public high school.

My mom, over the years, has been in and out of the hospital. Which meant my brother and I were in a house with a man who was emotionally constipated and constantly harassed, berated, and insulted his children.

But constantly reminded us about how he’s so great for marrying a woman with two children.

My mom, when she was home, had a lot of medical problems. She had a small spine, so they had to remove a part of her hip to normalize the length, she couldn’t breathe properly on her own, she had to have a nurse coming over to check on her often, she had a pacemaker, she ended up with diabetes, she had seizures that were mostly triggered by flashing lights, and she had to have certain medications injected.

This woman, my mother, was the one who got me into art, who ALWAYS supported me. I think she knew I was transgender before I did, she gave me my first short haircut that had my FAMILY, all except her brother, call me a dyke. She was always there for my lows, knew I had self-esteem issues, she bred my artistic side where I could be FREE.

12 years old, my uncle (the only other light of my life) got engaged to a pediatric nurse. Her name was Stephanie. They had a kid together already, his name was Aiden. Stephanie asked us to come to a family reunion to meet her family.

I didn’t see any red flags when I got there, but things started being weird when I met a few of the would-be cousins.

One man, who looked like he was in his 20s, was REALLY handsy with me. He even lifted my leg and SPANKED me while we were hanging out outside. REMINDER: I WAS 12 YEARS OLD AT THE TIME.

Then I met this kid named Matthew.

A monster in the making.

He wasn’t handsy, he was a chill guy. He was even invited to our house and we sat at the dining room table to watch videos.

THEN

And ONLY THEN

did he start groping me.

He went as far as shoving his hand down my pants.

And I was so confused, so disturbed and horrified, that I could only quietly cry and plead for him to stop.

I never told my parents, my grandparents, never told an adult.

I only told my brother when he brought Matthew over one day, many years later. I told him he was NEVER allowed in our house again, and my brother wholeheartedly agreed, thankfully.

And thank fuck I never had to see that jerk because someone blew the whistle on him to my parents. Someone caught him groping girl’s butts at the next family reunion.

Fast forward to 14 years of age

At the time, I didn’t know she had a drug abuse problem.

She was crushing medications she was to be taking orally, mixing them with water, and injecting them.

And I helped her do it, because I thought I was helping her get better.

I wanted her SO BADLY to get better.

I prayed so hard, being a devout christian.

I begged and PLEADED for her to get better so I could have my mom back, so we could be TOGETHER again. To have her bright smile and shitty ass jokes (After my mom came home from the attempted suicide, she would always joke about how she should’ve shot herself while holding a toy gun. Or called gangsters wimps for limping after getting shot. She was weird :) And I loved that about her), I just wanted my mom.

I was only a young teen, and I was starting to figure out my gender identity. I couldn’t go to my dad, I didn’t trust him like I trusted her.

I visited her constantly, she tried to teach me more about coloring and encouraged me to practice singing. She was my teacher ^^ And because of her, I clung to teachers and befriended them. My art teachers LOVED me, they did all they could to protect me from bullies that would throw erasers at me, ruin my projects, and draw on my posters. I loved all my teachers, they were kind and understanding and helped me get through the years while my mom was unable to.

My mom gave me all the love and support I could ever wish for. She never required me to be one way, but told me no matter if I was an atheist, satanist, if I was gay or straight, NO MATTER THE CHANGE, she would ALWAYS love me.

And it scared me when she ended up with a staph infection in her heart.

The surgery went well, she managed to recover. Doctors removed the infected valve with a pig’s valve. She came home, and I stuck by her side.

I’d sneak in cigarettes when she asked.

And..my dad tried to turn me against my own mom with texts that I had no context to go by.

I can’t really remember the texts, but I remember feeling devastated. But I still did ANYTHING she asked.

...I lost her when I was 16.

The staph infection was back. She only had a 10% chance of surviving another surgery.

My dad had to explain that to me, so I skipped school that day, December 8 of 2011, to be with her on her last day.

She wasn’t conscious.

I remember sitting there numbly, not really paying attention to the tv in the room. My dad was in and out, as well as some nurses.

One by one, my great aunts, my second cousins, and my grandmother came to say their goodbyes.

I overheard the nurse tell my dad that once they unplugged the machines, she would be dead.

But I think she was dead long before that. Brain dead. Her heart was pumping, but she wasn’t there.

I broke down once my grandma told her sister that, after the nurse had unplugged the machine and left us alone, that she was gone.

I could hear my second cousin break down too. He only got support from my mom, turns out he was disowned for being gay and my mom still treated him like a human being when nobody else would. It made me realize how much of a positive impact she was on the family, and we lost it.

My school offered therapy, which I accepted. My therapist was sweet, she brought me snacks and she reminded me a lot of my mom with her tone and attitude. She helped me realize it wasn’t my fault my mom died, because I completely blamed myself.

I know now that it was due to her drug abuse, that the needles she used caused the infection.

But I didn’t know fully at the time. So when I did, I figured it was my fault. I helped her inject medicine she wasn’t supposed to, helped her with her abuse.

My dad pulled me out of therapy because he said I didn’t need it.

And in that SAME MONTH, when he found out I was considering cutting myself, he said, “If you’re gunna cut, do it right.”

Father of the year anyone?

Fast forward to her funeral.

Open casket. The last time I ever saw my mom in person.

My uncle, my mother’s only brother, sang a song in her honor. He was 27, a musician, and already had a son. Unfortunately, he too was a drug abuser.

I don’t blame him or my mom for their abuse, they hardly had a good foundation. My grandmother didn’t raise them. She was a horrible, vindictive, and petty person. She ignored her children in favor of strange men. My mom had to raise her little baby brother, and my mom had to deal with a woman who burned her clothes, broke her rock cds, and slashed her tires. Because Jesus.

I grew more attached to my uncle after my mom passed, he was the only other positive influence in my life. He was an amazing artist, he was like my mom in a lot of ways. He called me Nikki Six and laughed at my shitty jokes, he cried to me when my grandmother berated and insulted him or treated him like crap.

We were open with each other. He wanted to join the military, be a role model for his one year old son, Aiden. I still have the video where he sang an original song, Thumb Sucking Blues, while my little cousin tried to play along with him :) He was a small little guy, but literally had his thumb in his mouth the whole time :P

Aiden LOVED his dad.

But because of his fiance’s drug use, he was taken from them. My mom was still alive when that happened, and we had supervised visitation with my cousin.

My uncle went to rehab to get clean, yet my grandmother continued to berate and degrade him.I supported him. I wanted him to be back home with US. My brother and I.

During this time...I got a phone call that terrified me.

My biological dad called me.

And I panicked; I didn’t KNOW him, he was NEVER in my life, and after a few months of talking and TRYING to get to know him, he vanished.

Turns out he’s been hiding for years to avoid paying child support.

But I wasn’t too hurt he abandoned me again. All we did was talk about anime we liked. I probably got my love of anime from him to be honest :P

My uncle eventually returned home, and all seemed great. He was a good father to his son, he got him back after his rehab (which I later found out it did fuck all for him because it was just another fucking church)

July 4th, 2012. I got a call from my grandmother because I was too tired to do fireworks that night.

Police had found my uncle’s body in an alley way.

He died of overdose, according to autopsy.

SIX MONTHS after losing one person who supported me, I lost the other.

He was cremated and my grandmother kept his ashes.

I was deist at the time, but I kept his bible, guitar picks, and the crappy religious coins he got from the “rehab.”

I have both my mom’s and my uncle’s bibles.

I..fell into a hard ass depression. I kept reliving the moment my mom died, the moment I heard about my uncle, I...saw his body after the autopsy. Of course, they covered it mostly, but it still hurt SO much to see him lifeless.

I graduated high school and immediately went to college, just trying to get through the shit. I just...didn’t care anymore. I lost the only two people that supported me. Both lights, my artistic inspirations, my TRUE FAMILY, gone.

My brother moved in with our grandmother, he was fed up with dad’s abuse. I..was too blind to see how abusive he was.

I took computer classes, he told me I should because it pays well. I personally found it fascinating on learning how to troubleshoot desktops, but programming was NOT my thing. I hated it.

I actually wanted to go into art, be an artist like my mom.

My dad?

“It’s not a REAL JOB.”

He shot down my passion for YEARS. I started college in 2014.

After nearly a year of computer classes, I was convinced to switch my major to education because I’m good with kids.

Because to my dad, good with kids = I want to be a teacher.

Kids just like me, I’m not sure why. My cousin loved me, and my cousin on my DAD’S side of the family loved me. I had patience and kindness to kids, they’re little beans that just need guidance. I don’t snap, I DEFINITELY don’t lay a HAND on a child as discipline.

So, I went into education like he said. I was just...a robot. Too scared to pursue what I wanted to do.

But there was a shining light; the Coalition club on my campus. A Gay/Straight alliance club! I ended up as their secretary, designed stickers, kept schedules, and I met SO many amazing people in that club. I felt welcomed, I felt SAFE, I could be OPEN about my gender with them, since I was too scared to say anything to my dad.

When he found out I was involved with the group, he got pissed. He’d constantly pick fights with me about how I’m focusing too much on the group and failing my classes.

Funny thing; I had As and Bs on ALL my courses.

Pretty sure that’s passing.

But..he kinda bred me to be unable to handle confrontation well. Whenever someone yells at me or talks in a strict tone, I start to cry.

So he’d always make me a sobbing mess nearly every day.

I locked myself in my room constantly.

I had to quit asking him to take me to HEB for me to buy groceries because I couldn’t STAND him. I was too scared to be alone with him for ANY reason. I felt like he’d find something to make me cry and ruin my day, so..I would walk to a corner store to buy easy mac, eggs, bacon, maybe some frozen pizza if I could afford it. Most of my meals were pasta-related, it was cheaper than most items. Corner store pricing and all that ^^;

I got a job in the work-study program as an AVID Tutor. Which helps students with their work from other classes. The students instantly clung to me, being the youngest teacher.

That job didn’t last long ;v; Apparently a button up shirt and a long black skirt wasn’t teacher apparel??? I wore dress pants too, I fit the “female gender role.” But I was fired for not dressing professionally.

I ended up working at a subway in a flea market, and everyone was SO SWEET! They were fine with my gender, and I was even defended by a rides worker when a customer complained about me using the restroom.

I was deadass exhausted though.

My dad forced me to do MAX college hours

While I also balanced a job.

The stress was KILLING me, but locking myself in my room where I could draw?

Being in a group that loved and accepted me?

It made life bearable.

But my dad eventually started getting after me about my job, that he DIDN’T consider a job because it was only on the weekends that it was open.

He started getting more aggressive with his fights. I would literally just WALK IN THE DOOR from work, exhausted because I have panic attacks (I had no idea I had panic disorder at the time), and he’d start fights about something.

Be it because I was atheist or that he was pissed I was STILL in college (He’s a college dropout so I just think “.________________________. boi.”)

A few months into 2016, I came out to my grandmother and my dad about being transgender.

My grandmother’s response? “You’re not transgender, you’re just fat!”

My dad? He didn’t really get it. He had to learn from his girlfriend because he sure as fuck didn’t listen to me when I explained it.

And he’d constantly ask about it, which didn’t bother me too much because I figured he was still confused.

Then he started to dead name me.

MY ENTIRE LIFE, I was ALWAYS referred to with a gender neutral nickname. NEVER my first because I never liked my name. I hated it. I used to be called Nikki, now I just go by Nick or Nicholas :) Cause I love that name.

HE.

In front of his LGBTQ+ friendly girlfriend.

referred to me with my FULL NAME.

And he did this TWICE.

I was too afraid to confront him, but his gf sure as fuck wasn’t. She was PISSED.

She put an end to that.

But things got worse after I sought out therapy to see if I qualified for HRT, Hormone Replacement Therapy.

And I did.

My dad only got more angry when he saw the letter from my therapist saying I had Gender Dysphoria and that he recommend I take HRT.

He would, from then on,, badger me about my clothes, claiming it’s what 12 year old boys wear.

Despite I paid the internet bill AND his cable bill, he’d get after me for unwinding by playing games.

He spent a fuck ton of money on a new mustang to tinker with to make a drag race car, but not a new air conditioning system for a 50+ year old house with no insulation. So while he was away, and the temperatures rose (It’s texas, it’s ALWAYS hot), I was sweating and trying to keep cool with ice packs and frozen towels. But none of THAT mattered, because I’m irresponsible for playing video games after all my work was completed.

I didn’t tell him I was starting a youtube channel in an attempt to bring in extra money, because I was only paid a little over 120 a week.

But he’s bitch about pretty much EVERY aspect of me.

But I kept quiet, kept food in my room because I was too scared to leave my safe space in fear of him insulting me further.

I literally asked for help on hiding food online.

After 2 more years of college, I got my associate’s in education and moved onto university for my bachelor’s.

I still didn’t want the major. But I didn’t really feel like I had a choice.

But this class I took, Child/Adolescent development, helped me realize how HORRIBLE and ABUSIVE my dad is.

I learned in that class about emotional and verbal abuse, and the effects it had on children and adults.

I began to stand up for myself, I’d argue back with my dad instead of letting him verbally abuse me with no repercussions.

Anything I said?

“Liberal Propaganda”

“Well, I put my religion first”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I thank my government teacher to this day for giving me the backbone I needed. She is a headstrong woman, refuses to be referred to as Miss, but prefers “Professor.” She had a PHD and she was passionate about her job and about human rights.

It became a much more hostile home after I started fighting back.

He would challenge my moral compass, “An atheist should have no problem lying.”

He’d pick on my gender identity and choice of fashion, “You’re trying too hard to be transgender.”

And anytime I went to houston to see my brother and cousin? My grandmother made it worse. She’d pick on my hair, call me a devil worshiper, insult my weight (This woman forced me to eat more when I was on a diet, but I never called her out on it), she was as bad as my dad to where my brother took me to the mall to avoid any further argument.

In late 2017, my dad tried to pick on me in front of his friend, Bobby. Bobby was a long-time family friend, I grew up with his kids. He knew me since I was a child.

And his friend was NOT impressed with my dad, and HE accepted my gender and even tried to explain what he was doing was being a dickhead.

He didn’t listen.

It went on like that until early 2018.

He called me out of my room and, once again, picked a fight with me because I’m part of an LGBTQ+ group, still in college, same bullshit.

But this time, he told me to pack up and leave, that I had two weeks to move.

I panicked.

I didn’t have the funds to move into an apartment with my current job.

I thought I was going to be homeless.

I called one of my friends in tears, and he asked his mother if I could take refuge there.

For a bit of context: I used to date him and I’ve met his family. His family had me over for the holidays, and kept me there for christmas eve and christmas day after I told my friend my dad BANNED me from celebrating the holidays with him because I’m an atheist.

And BOY was she PISSED. And his mom? Veteran Including his dad. BOTH are hard veterans that firmly believe in families sticking together.

So the kicking me out?

It REALLY blew their gaskets.

They told me to pack all I needed and that they’d be there in two weeks.

Later that week, my dad apologized and said it was cruel to do that, but...

I couldn’t stay.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

I was tired of living in FEAR, you shouldn’t be hiding food in your room to eat because you’re too scared to come out.

I told him I was leaving.

And what pissed me off? He tried to play VICTIM.

I moved out, and unfortunately had to quit my job because transportation issues. Ubers didn’t reach out this far and even if they did, it’d be like 30 bucks a trip.

With my wage? WHEEZE. Nope.

But a lady at the flea market gave me boxes and duct tape when I was packing to leave, just so I had places to put my stuff in. :)

I started counseling at A&M not too long after I moved into my new temporary home (I say as I’ve been here for nearly a YEAR ;-; and I feel bad but they’ve not kicked me out soooo....yay?)

And after a few session, my counselor told me to seek long term treatment, and she was helping me break free of my fear of asking for help and it’s thanks to her that I got to pursue the major of my dreams! I’m so thankful that I went to see her, because I went as SOON as I could to a medical clinic to talk to a psychiatrist.

I was diagnosed with PTSD, Bipolar disorder, and Panic disorder.

I was prescribed medication.

And little by little, I was getting better.

I had already had my Bendice tumblr for a while and the more I drew, the better I felt.

And the artist community?

It’s been AMAZING!

I’ve meet so many AMAZING people, from great friends to my art senpais. I’ve been getting better and better at honing my skills, and I feel like I really can be an animator someday.

Now, people are probably wondering why I dumped all this out.

Well...I know I’m not alone, but others might feel how I used to.

Isolated

So very Hurt

Alone

And miserable.

I don’t want pity, I don’t want “there there”, I want to show people that might be feeling alone that they aren’t. That someone suffered just like them.

Be it for being gay

Transgender

Depressed

An artist

No matter the “why,’ all pain here is equal.

It’s not insignificant.

YOU aren’t Insignificant.

All the pain and suffering we’ve all endured?

Is valid.

And we’re not pussies or wimps for feeling hurt.

And we’re not alone.

Thank you to those who read my entire shit storm ^^; I’ll admit I cried while writing this, but I feel good now!

I hope my words and my story inspire someone out there to take the steps they need to better themselves, to escape toxic environments.

Because that shit SUCKS.

#Personal shit #(OOC) 𝑂𝑓𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐴𝑖𝑟 #tw negative thoughts #cw negativity #cw abuse #tw:death #tw drug abuse #tw suicide #LONG ASS POST #Sorry #Read at your own risk

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