#got up in my face and said “don't fucking look at me faggot” and spat directly into my face

[omnic]

my mum was repeating a story i mentioned in passing to her to my grandma, about the drag show i went to. one of the queens was saying "ok who's gay!! who's lesbian!! who's bi!! who's transgender or non-binary!! and finally ..... who's straight 🤨" to get cheers from the audience and idk why my mum was repeating it to my grandma but. when she came to the "who's straight" bit of reiterating it to my grandma, my mum said "who's normal"

and i couldn't stop myself from interjecting and saying that's NOT what she said and that's also NOT right on any level to say and my mum brushed me off and laughed and i was like. fuming. like no matter how many times i try to tell her that phrasing stuff like that is awful to say, she always brushes me off and says "you know what i mean" like???????????? yeah you don't want to think your experience has a label and you don't want to have to learn shit and think that only "abnormal people" have labels but. it's bigoted, great job 👍

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS - Chapter 46 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

It was early morning on the Sunday before we returned to school from winter break and I was having breakfast with my dad again.

He had made scrambled eggs for us.

I definitely wasn't used to these breaking meals and football nights anymore.

So while we sat there and ate, my leg was bouncing up and down with anxiety, waiting for my dad to snap and the utopian dream I was in, to be over but instead, my father spoke awkwardly.

"How is, uh, ya' know, school going?"

"Um pretty good," I said keeping my voice quiet.

"Keeping your grades up? You're gonna graduate, right?" he asked, looking at me sternly.

"Yeah, I'm actually doing pretty well," I told him and finished up my eggs.

"Good, I'm... I'm proud of you," my dad said as he continued to eat his food, not looking at me.

My heart was beating a little more promptly and I almost smiled.

Almost, until he said...

"And I see that you listened to me and broke it off with that faggot."

My heart fell to the bottom of my stomach and my utopian world turned back to shit.

His eyes turned deadly as they focused on mine.

"You're not seeing him, are you?"

"No," I said, feeling like I was gonna throw up.

Worse, like I was suffocating.

"Right," he said, then scrapped his chair back to stand up.

He dropped his plate in the sink.

"Good. I don't need a fag for a son," he muttered before walking into the T.V. room.

I let out a breath as soon as he was out of sight.

I shook my head and went to the kitchen sink to rinse both of our plates off before placing them in the dishwasher.

When I looked up, I spotted Sam walking up to my front porch from the kitchen window.

'Shit. What the fuck was he doing here?'

I checked my cell-phone and saw a missed FaceTime from Sam and a text saying we should study.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck.'

I looked over and saw my dad distracted by some T.V. show and a beer in his hand.

I took that as my opportunity to quickly leave the house.

Sam gave me a boyish smile when he saw me.

"Hey, I was just about to..."

"You gotta leave," I demanded more harshly than I intended to.

His smile dropped.

"What? Why?" he asked as he continued to walk closer to my house.

"I thought we could..."

I put my hands on his shoulders and nudged him to go back.

"Seriously, Sam. You need to go. I'm sorry, I'll call you tonight or try to sneak out..."

"Why? What's going on?" he pressed.

"Is your dad..."

"Jeez, Sam, just fucking go. For fuck's sake," I snapped.

Sam stepped back, out of my reach, like I'd just punched him.

I sighed in frustration at myself.

"Sam, I'm sorry, that's not..."

"No need to explain," he cut me off then turned around, got back in his car and drove away.

When I got back inside, I walked into the T.V. room and was immediately shoved against the wall.

My eyes went wide as my dad grabbed a fistful of my t-shirt and yanked me towards him.

"What was that about?"

My dad spat out at me, his alcoholic breath fanning my face.

"It was nothing, Dad. I dealt with it," I rushed out, hating that I stuttered.

"I thought you told me you weren't seeing him anymore?"

"I'm not."

Before I knew it, he grabbed my hair, pulling my head forward then back real fast causing me to fall down.

My head collided with the coffee table and I bit my tongue.

It took a lot of strength not to cry out in pain.

My dad knelt down in front of me.

"If I ever catch you with that boy again, hittin' your head on a table will be your least concern," he threatened before slamming his fist into my face.

"I'll fucking kill him, don't test me, Noah."

Covering the left side of my face, I watched my dad grab his beer can before slamming the front door shut behind him.

"Fuck," I yelled as I laid on the ground, putting my hands over my face, not that anyone was there to watch me cry.

"Fuck, fuck," I screamed, slamming my hand down continuously on the wooden floor, got up and went to my bedroom, swinging my door close and locked it.

I was filled with too many overwhelming emotions from humiliation, to guilt, to anger, to sadness and it all formed into a huge tower of rage.

I took my cell-phone out of my pocket and chucked it at the wall, shattering the screen with the back popping off.

I swiped everything off my desk in my fit of anger.

Then I realized my the Switch that Sam had gotten me was along the things I pushed off my desk.

"Fuck. Stupid mother fucker," I didn't know who I was yelling that at, probably to myself.

I collapsed onto my messy bed, screaming more profanities into my pillow and I scraped my fingernails into my legs over and over and over and over.

'I'll fucking kill him.'

No, no, no... fuck.