#i knew one kid whos grandparents MET at this camp

[nickbutnodick]

oh and btw im leavin for summer camp on monday and they have an INCREDIBLY strict no-phone policy so this is your last weekend with me, i'll be gone all next week.

[tsarinatorment]

Do you have any backstory headcanons for the other canon Apollo kids?

Not to the extent I did for Michael, but most of them I have at least something, yes!

Going in age order...

Will [disclaimer here that I do not consider TSATS canon; most of this contradicts the weird stuff TSATS tried to claim which didn't actually make any sense...] We know Apollo met Will's mother, Naomi Solace, in Austin, and I do headcanon that Will grew up there. Like most demigods, school wasn't fun for him, although Will was never actually in enough trouble that he got expelled - he was too much of a generally sweet kid for that, who got on well with the other kids in school. His home life was... fine. Naomi loves Will a lot, but trying to make ends meet with her music career whilst raising a son as a single mother was a lot (especially a son with ADHD and dyslexia) and Will often ended up not quite being given all the attention he needed at home.

However, we also know from canon that Will is an unusually powerful son of Apollo, so the monsters picked up on his scent much earlier than they usually do. His first attack was an entire hoard of snakes when he was seven, and with no-one else around close enough to intervene in time, Apollo snatched him away from the attack in person, before telling Naomi that it was probably time for Will to go to camp. She didn't protest, guiltily relieved that looking after Will wouldn't be on her shoulders anymore and that she could fully follow her music career again, and Will ended up at camp aged seven.

He remains a year-rounder because Naomi's career keeps her too busy to give him the attention and stability he should have, although they remain in frequent contact and Will has been known to leave camp for a weekend or even a week, occasionally, to stay with her while she's free between career commitments.

Austin Austin's mother, Latricia Lake, is a music theory lecturer (canon) who met Apollo while she was lecturing at Oberlin College (canon). I have her as being a guest lecturer, who moves around various colleges and universities on demand, which leaves her lifestyle rather an unstable one for raising a child. So instead of lugging around baby!Austin everywhere with her, Austin was mostly raised by his maternal grandparents (location not entirely certain but I'm kinda leaning towards Louisiana, maybe?) to give him a stable place to call home. He ended up at camp the same way most Apollo kids do - the snakes came crawling along and a satyr identified him as a demigod and brought him to camp. Austin got rather a nasty bite (or few) from the snakes on the way, which almost killed him, so his phobia of snakes is worse than most Apollo kids'. He arrived at camp in the period between BOTL and TLO, so he never knew Lee and was still a fresh camper for the Manhattan battle. He now stays at camp year-round because his grandparents are getting a little too old to really raise a hyperactive teenage boy, and Austin doesn't want to bring the added danger of monster attacks to them.

Kayla Kayla, as we know, has two fathers. She's one of the less common children of a male god who was birthed by their godly parent, but Apollo and Darren Knowles had several long conversations about it before she was conceived, because Apollo doesn't do the "drop random unexpected kids on partners" thing. Darren did really want a kid, though, and Apollo was more than happy to oblige. She calls Darren 'Da', while Apollo is 'Dad', and always knew that she had two fathers, and that her other father was an amazing archer. Darren kept her with him most of the time - Kayla's been around archery her entire life, has been shooting bows ever since she was big enough, and is well-known amongst the Olympic candidates in Canada, who are all eagerly awaiting her sixteenth birthday, when she can join their ranks - although they're a bit worried that now she's away at 'boarding school' in America, she's not getting as much training time (if only they knew!) She stays at camp all year because Darren's coaching career does take him across the country, and in some cases the world, to various tournaments, and it's safer and more stable for Kayla to live in one place. (Darren also tries not to let it reach her too much, but not everyone is particularly accepting of a girl with two fathers; she's also away from the bigotry in camp.) She will visit him as often as she can get away with, though!

Yan Yan is canonically from Hong Kong. As they're never given a gender in the books, to me they are nonbinary. They also don't have a canon surname, so I use 'Cheung', which has the same roots as Zhang and means archer! When they were twelve, their mother made the decision to evacuate them from Hong Kong due to the political unrest, and they went to live with a host family in England, enrolling in a local school. This was fine for a year, but then they found themselves being attacked by monsters and were forced to be displaced again, this time to Camp Half-Blood. Their host family knew nothing about them being a demigod - most of it was arranged by proxy of the mother of a kid the year below them in their London school. They later discovered that said kid was also their younger half-brother!

Jerry Jerry is a London kid (canon!). As 'Jerry' is usually a nickname, and considering the fact that he's British, I have his full name as being Jeremy (not that he ever goes by it) and gave him the surname Allen (meaning 'harmony'). Jerry's mum is a massive stress baker by the name of Gwen Allen. Her actual job is that she's a nurse - which is a stressful job, so Jerry was never short on homemade goodies as a kid! Jerry is a huge cricket fan, and grew up near Lords Cricket ground; his dream is to play for England one day. When he was twelve, he and an older kid at school were attacked by a monster and saved by the school's janitor, who was revealed to be a satyr. Jerry did not take well to the idea that he had to move to America for several years (not least because it meant he had to stop playing for the local kids' cricket teams, but also because it meant leaving his mum behind), but Gwen arranged everything with Chiron - and for Yan, too - and saw them off from Heathrow Airport. The pair of them were escorted by an adult demigod onto American soil, but unfortunately the last leg of their trip was rather eventful, culminating in the satyr guide that had picked them up at the airport being killed protecting them, and leaving both Jerry and Yan rather traumatised when they finally reached camp. The pair of them are thick as thieves.

Gracie I don't have much for Gracie yet - we know she's from Idaho, and at this point that's really all I've got, except the headcanon that she's a drum kid. Give her something to bash rhythmically and she's delighted! I'll work something out for her eventually, though! As for her name, like the rest of the TON trio we're not given one, so I gave her the surname 'Crowe' as an acknowledgement of corvids being sacred to Apollo.

[tallnbitter]

History of Man: Prologue

My Brother & I Almost Die in a Car Crash

Description: Helen Snow has spent ten years at Camp Half-Blood, and yet the gods remain silent. Unclaimed and overlooked, her resentment toward them has only grown. Despite her bitterness, she would never betray them—until she becomes the one held responsible for a betrayal she didn’t intend to commit. Now, Helen finds herself tangled in a web of fate, echoing the tragic history of her infamous namesake. As the weight of prophecy looms over her, she wonders: can she carve out a life of her own before destiny catches up to her? Or is history doomed to repeat itself? In a world where gods pull the strings and mortals bear the consequences, Helen must decide if she will fight her fate or surrender to it. Word Count: 528 Warnings: Mentions of Death

Have you ever known that something was going to go bad before it happened?

Had a sinking feeling about getting in a car or on a plane?

Wanted to stay home not for any reason other than a gut feeling?

Well, ever since I was a kid I've had these feelings more than anyone else I know.

People usually listened to them. Small town Montana meant people learnt quickly when to listen to me  when it came to my premonitions.

Really it all started when I refused to leave the church after my father’s funeral when I was three because something was going to happen. And two minutes later the tornado sirens went off and everyone was ushered back into the church and into the basement.

From that day on people learnt that if I thought there was trouble brewing to listen to me, which is why when I refused to get into my brother’s beat up Bronco to go to my grandparents before he deployed, and he made me I knew we were in deep trouble.

I now know that he thought I refused to get in the car because I didn’t want him to leave, and how I wished my life was simple enough that my biggest worry about getting in that car was to stop my brother from leaving, but it never had been. And that day had proven that point to both me and my brother.

The drive had been doomed from the start but when Nick slowed the car down and let out a quiet ‘shit’ at the giant snake in the middle of the road, with ram horns that was coming straight at us.

After the initial sighting and shockingly good defensive driving from my brother, the rest was a blur.

I remember him calling his commanding officer asking for the ability to report two days late so that he could drop me off with family friends as our grandparents couldn’t take care of me.

I remember the long drive from Montana to Long Island, mixed in with diversions and dangerous driving to get away from other monsters.

I remember being a terrified 9 year old being met by Mr D and a sweet girl my age, who I know call my best friend, under a tree and my brother saying he couldn’t come with me past the tree.

I remember getting a call from my brother when he arrived in Miramar telling me that my grandparents thought I was at a summer camp, and that he’d come and visit when he could but he wasn’t sure if I would be able to leave Camp Half Blood.

I remember making friends and watching them get claimed wondering when it would happen to me and it never happening.

In all honesty I think I’m still in that survival mode, not entirely sure if 11 years later if I ever left it.

I know now that Cerastes wasn’t the first monster to attack.

I know now why Cerastes attacked.

I know now that my brother has been fighting for my survival since he was 18 and I was 3 when he didn’t have to.

[bisexualmultifandommess]

It’s my boy Ryan!!!

As we know our boy is bisexual

He’s also autistic but that’s another thing.

He probably realised he liked boys as well as girls when he was like 12 or 13. He developed a small crush on this boy at school who wore denim and leather type jackets and he thought he was so cool. He never revealed anything though because he was too shy and didn’t get along with others.

He didn’t come out until he and his sister were living with their grandparents because while living with their mum he didn’t feel safe enough to reveal that side of him. He was still a little nervous when coming out to his grandparents but he knew that they loved him no matter what.

The first person outside of his family that he came out to was Chris who reassured Ryan that he supported him and he was always here to talk. That and Chris’s support about his school and home life is why Ryan trusts him so much.

He has a few pride pins that he sticks on his jackets or bags. He also has a few pride stickers that Sarah bought him that he likes to stick on his phone case or laptop case.

I think his bi awakening was Sam Winchester in Supernatural (he enjoys supernatural and paranormal things plus Jared Padalecki was one of my big crushes as a kid so I’m including him because I love him)

He like everybody else definitely had a tiny attraction to Nick when he first met him. I just think Nick is the type who attracts a lot of people whether it’s for a long time or just a short crush. Ryan takes one look at him and is like damn he’s good looking.

His attraction to Nick doesn’t last long though because he eventually starts developing feelings for Dylan. He doesn’t like to admit it but he definitely loves those puns and jokes.

One time Jacob after finding out asked Ryan what his type is and then jokingly asked him if he was. Ryan can’t help being blunt and just said no in the most dead pan voice. Nick, Dylan and Kaitlyn who heard all laughed so hard they cried. Ryan was so confused.

All of the campers are supportive of him and Dylan’s sexualities (all the counsellors are queer tbh)

I think he had a non serious relationship with a guy before coming to camp that year due to him saying “Not exactly” to Dylan when he asks if he has a girlfriend but he’d not been feeling the relationship so broke up with him before going to camp but felt conflicted about it but he realised while at camp that he prefers Dylan’s company and has a stronger connection to Dylan.

Sarah definitely is that little sister that isn’t afraid to tease him. She probably says he’s ‘bi himself’ when he’s single and he just rolls his eyes but smiles because it’s just a little fun because she supports him and is only joking.

I think while he is attracted to both he leans more towards men.

He listens to some Queer artists.

I 100% believe that he watched Heartstopper because Dylan asked him to and he actually got really emotional over Nick’s story. He also hates Ben and Harry with a passion and is a Tori stan because he relates to her a bit.

He sometimes struggles with expressing his emotions and being open about his relationships due to his past experiences and trauma from when he was a kid so the first time he really opens up to Dylan and let’s him in is a big moment for him.

The first moment he refers to Dylan as his boyfriend to someone else he feels really content with it. Dylan is absolutely ecstatic but tries to not to get too excited because he doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

If they got married I think they’d either use both last names and hyphenate or he’d take Dylan’s. I think this because I think he’d have complicated feelings over his last name due to his relationship with his mum but also likes his last name because of its connections to his grandparents and sister. He’d be conflicted about it but Dylan would support any decision.

Him and Dylan go on double dates with Nick and Abi or Max and Laura sometimes.

They end up having a daughter when they’re older.

[ace7librarian]

A little late for Holocaust memorial day, but I think I want to share my family story here. It's pretty long, but I'll appreciate it if my goy mutuals could give it a look. Maybe it will help some goyim understand how ingrained the trauma is in the Jewish brain.

Little backstory about my family: I was born from a sperm donation, so my family has only one side- my mother's. If I had two parents, it would be double the amount of grandparents. Now I have just my grandpa and grandma, my mother's parents, and both of their parents are holocaust survivors. Just a heads up: I might be wrong about some stuff.

I'll start with my grandpa, because his parents didn't talk much about the Holocaust, since they were too traumatised. They were called Israel and Lea. Israel was born in Poland, and all we know about his history is that he had about seven sisters who were all murdered. Only he and two of his siblings survived. He blamed himself for the death of his family, and according to my mother, the only reason he didn't commit suicide was his religion. Lea was born in Germany, probably in Berlin, to a rich family. Her father was a very respected rabbi. when the war started, her brother Izzy escaped with all their money, leaving lea to watch her siblings get murdered. Lea, her father and her fiance (?) Were held in a concentration camp in Siberia (?), where lea left her fiance, who didn't want to take care of her father. Lea and Israel met there, and Israel did try to help Lea's father, but he still died, because he was a rabbi wbd that's the Holocaust. Israel and Lea survived and got married for comfort reasons, and decided to move to Israel, because Lea's brother izzy was there. Izzy did not give his sister any money or help, but she stayed close to him, because he was all the family she had. They managed to make a living, but they were never happy. Not even with their family. they didn't even have the strength to pretend, for their kids. They were kind and loving, but they were both shells of themselves.

My grandma's parents had it rough as well, of course, but they expressed it differently. Maybe it's because they were younger while it happened, maybe it's just a personality difference. Their names were Yehuda and Sarah, abd they talked a lot about their experiences. They had a small book made for the family with their stories, and Sarah was regularly going to schools and other events to teach about the Holocaust. Yehuda was born in Hungary, and since he was 3 he carried weapons to protect himself against antisemites in the streets. He was very lucky - only his father was burned alive, his mother and sister survived in a ghetto the whole holocaust, and he snuck into a train and escaped. It did leave him fairly traumatised. My grandma jokes that her father escaped, so he was afraid of everything ever since (got my anxiety from him), and her mother didn't, so she was afraid of nothing. Sarah was born in Slovakia, and I know about her the most, since she passed away just a few years ago. Her father didn't have Hungarian citizenship, so he was taken by the Nazis first. So when Jews who escaped Poland came to hide in their house, Sarah's mother believed the horrors they told about, since she hasn't heard from her husband in months. Eventually, the nazis found them as well. Sarah was pushed to the group of the older kids by her mother, who was murdered later that day in the gas chambers with the two youngest siblings, who were 12 and 7. Sarah and her 3 siblings who survived were moved from camp to camp. They have many stories about those horrible years- from having women they knew from town as their prison guards, to getting a comfortable position as the toilet cleaner, to Sarah's brother showing his ass to a nazi and getting out alive, and getting experimented on by Mengele. Eventually they were freed by the British, but Sarah's sister Golda got terminally ill at a death march and died just after being free at last, at age 19. The three surviving siblings moved to Israel (not before getting arrested and spending some time in a camp in Cyprus), where Sarah and Yehuda met. After the war, Yehuda's mother remarried, which gave him a step sibling. His step brother married and had a child, but he gave his daughter Maya to Yehuda, since his wife was sick. I only recently learned that the sickness was trauma and depression, and Maya's mother killed herself when maya was just a child. Now Sarah and Yehuda had two children, my grandma and Maya. Despite everything, they were very positive and determined to make the most out of life, for their family and friends who couldn't.

I remember grandma Sarah always says, that her biggest revenge on the Nazis was surviving and making a family. I miss her. She was an excellent cook. She never threw away a scrap- in the Holocaust she and her siblings survived on a single loaf of bread, so who is going to dare wasting food? I used to love tracing the number tattooed on her arm with my finger when I was a child. I don't remember a time not knowing how it got there. I don't remember a time not knowing my grandparents didn't have grandparents. I do remember my first time seeing a picture of Hitler though- it was in class. I heard so much about this monster, I felt pretty disappointed seeing him. Like he should have horns or something.

The Holocaust is not just a historical event for me. It's in every recipe my mother learned from Sarah, in every joke my uncle learned from Sarah's brother, in the necklace my grandma got from Lea, every time Maya visits. I wasn't surprised to find out other Jews have nightmares about the Holocaust. I was surprised when I realised goyim don't have that- they weren't born with thousands of years of being chased inside of them. They don't have the fear of their ancestors running in their veins. Honestly, what are they even talking about with their friends? Because in my case, it always comes back to our Jewish trauma. Many Jews weren't in the Holocaust, and they are still burdened by insane trauma. Even if some aren't aware of it, I think that our generational trauma effects everything we do. No matter where I go or what I do, I'll still imagine good places to hide. I'll still have a nightmare about Nazis every once in a while. I'll wonder if the goy being so nice to me would hide me if I was in danger.

Never again.

[usafphantom2]

Photo: Taken by my Aircraft Commander in Riyadh, Saudia Arabia, 1991-2 Desert Calm after wrapping up a mission. Notice the Mustache (was mandatory), Sleeves pushed up, Desert Boots, Ray Bans, Casio Watch and the ridiculous Desert Hat. I was assigned to the 42nd AREFS out of Loring AFB ME.

Why I’ve Been Writing All These Stories

I’ve written about this subject sporadically a couple of times answering questions, but this time, I’m going to give it some structure. I’ll give it a title and save it, so I don’t have to write it again. It’s a bit long winded, so forgive me.

When I was a kid, I was close with all my grandparents. I was blessed in knowing all four of them. But on my father’s side, my father’s last name was different than my grandfather’s last name. It turned out that my grandmother had divorced my biological grandfather in the late ‘50s. Nobody ever really talked about my biological grandfather. My grandmother and gotten rid of almost all photos. So, I never knew him or even of him until I was much older. As it turned out, he passed away in 1977. If anyone in the family knew, they never mentioned it to me.

Two or three years ago, my father’s youngest brother decided to request my biological grandfather’s military service records from the Marine Corps. I spent the next year or two figuring out (the USN is different from the USAF and the USMC is even more different from the USN) that he had been a gunner on the Douglas SBD Dauntless with the VMSB-244, had joined at 16 ½ years old, was awarded an Air Medal by the Army Air Corps for shooting a Zero down while flying in a B-24 out of Midway (not the big battle) before he had turned 18 years old.

He then went to the Solomon Islands. He flew many missions bombing and strafing Rabaul amongst other targets. He had his camp bombed in between missions, and in one case, his own squadron was dropping bombs, and the spotters were in their own camp. The bombs were falling just outside the perimeter. He lost many of the gunners he had trained with over the course of his service.

I found he likely flew on missions where Papy Boyington likely flew cover for his unit (still researching this one), John F Kennedy was in a PT boat right around the corner, Richard Nixon had been running a SCAT (intra theater passenger and cargo flying service) squadron he used, and Gene Rodenberry was collocated with him at one point.

Eventually, the unit burned out, they were ordered to stand down in June 1944 and he had a Casualty Card filed for Combat Fatigue. He wasn’t even 20 years old yet, and the war was over for him. D-day, the invasion of Europe. happened right when he was headed home.

When he got back to the states, he went AWOL several times, obviously having difficulties readjusting to non-combat life. The Marines just gave him an honorable discharge and let him go (it was a common practice at that time.) He met my grandmother, they married and had several children, but he never really adjusted. No steady employment, liberal use of alcohol, and a short temper, which is how and why my grandmother left him. He was a bonified war hero who was permanently damaged by the war, and his life after the war was mostly sad. Fortunately, it does seem that he found some solace before he passed away, he had re-married and by all accounts it seems to have been a happy marriage.

The details of the story were amazing to me. He sat in the back of an aircraft, performed death defying feats (dive bombing is some serious stuff), and faced backwards. Not so dissimilar to me, 45 years later, flying in the back of a KC-135, refueling other aircraft in the air, facing backwards.

Due to the amount of time that has passed since WWII, tracking down some details has been very difficult. His unit was not famous during his time frame. Just a bunch of line guys, doing their jobs. For all purposes, there is nobody to ask if you have a question and want to get the answer from the horse’s mouth, they are all gone.

I shared this research with my father’s family, and my children as well. One thing I was looking for was a cause for my grandfather’s behavior in the ‘50s. I didn’t really find anything concrete, but there were indications.

There was so much information, I started writing a document with all the details, it’s over a hundred pages long, with background information to set the context. If you’re into that kind of stuff, it’s interesting, but not everybody is a fan of history, let alone World War II history, or worse yet, US Marine Corps aviation in the Solomon Islands. Of course, my current version is still in draft. It isn’t finished yet.

Anway, now eleven paragraphs later, I’m finally getting to my point. My son started asking what I did while I was in the Air Force. He’d heard the stories since he was little, but he doesn’t remember the details. He specifically asked me to start writing some of it down. I’d been making little notes, writing down passages.

At the same time, I’d been on Twitter reading a lot, and I love aviation, so I followed that. All these photos, some of the exact same airframes I flew on, made me want to write and share my experiences.

Then, in the beginning of August (this year 2024), I wrote something that took off a bit. The title was “What are the most amazing things you’ve seen as a Boom Operator”. It got about 70,000 impressions, 42 reposts and I thought, maybe people are interested in hearing my stories. I also considered the idea of being able to make some income from these stories, and these days, additional income would be helpful. Although, I am starting to wonder if I’ll really be able to make that happen, five million impressions in three months is a high bar at the moment and I’m worried I might run out of quality material. I mean, nobody wants to read about how I spent six weeks doing nothing (yup… it happened.)

I know my stories are not really all that special in the sense that there were many other people doing the same thing I was, and many of them did it much better than I did, and many of them knew much more than I did. I was never high ranking, was never in charge, was never a mission planner, never a Test boom, I was mostly just a line boom operator who flew when they told me to and went TDY went they told me to. I enjoyed that until I got married, had children, and then after a while, I didn’t enjoy it anymore. Other disciplines grabbed my attention. So, I moved on, but I still thoroughly enjoyed my time flying and always looked back on it fondly.

So, all these passages that I’ve been writing, I’ve been writing in word documents and saving. Twitter/X is not my primary data cache. Eventually, I’ll try to put them all together into some coherent format so they can be read and not be a complete mess, and I’ll be able to give that to my kids and let them have it for when they get curious about their history. I’m sure they’ll put it in the closet until one day, in the future, they will suddenly wonder… and I might not be there to ask.

I have no problem sharing all these stories with everyone in the meanwhile. As they say, the more the merrier. The feedback has jogged my memory on quite a few things, and I also feel that my writing and storytelling is improving because of both the practice and the feedback.

It may not be the largest audience now, but for the most part, I’ve been getting positive feedback, and as long as that is the case, I’ll continue to share what I’ve been writing.

If I were to sum it all up into one sentence, I’d say, I’m writing these passages to preserve the memory for my children and I enjoy doing it, everything else is gravy. (maybe that’s all I should publish, problem is though, it doesn’t tell a story, does it?)

@tcamp202 via X

[batdiangelo]

🌳: Gimme AJ's family tree

OKAY OOOHH....

Barrett Wayne and Amelia [Bates] Wayne are his grandparents. Amelia couldn't have children, but one day, Barrett met a woman who would later reveal herself as Athena, and was given his daughter, Pandora Bates-Wayne.

Pandora Bates-Wayne is his mother, along with Aurora Gonzalez. they got married shortly before having their kids, in which they hyphenated their last names.

Aurora and Pandora got pregnant at the same time. They had both discussed opening their relationship, and met two men. Aurora met a man while heading to college orientation. He is later revealed to be Hephaestus.

Pandora met a man named Micheal, who is later revealed to be Hades.

Both Women had children with these men.

an hour before AJ was born, Aurora had Marcus Alejandro Gonzalez-Wayne. He was born female, but for the sake of making things easy, we'll be calling him by his preferred name.

when AJ was born, he was named Amelia Jessica Gonzalez-Wayne, after his grandmother. later on, he chooses the name Alexander Jason Gonzalez-Wayne, so he could still go by AJ.

When AJ was around 7, His mother Pandora had a set of Twins; Audrey and Archer Gonzalez-Wayne.

When AJ was about nine years old, his mothers adopted Hearthstone Alderman, who was about 8 at the time. (the timeline for hearthstone vs when he left his father is very vague in my understandings, so I went with this because it made sense to me.) The family, at the time, knew him only as Hearth Gonzalez-Wayne.

within the same year, Aurora gave birth to Carmen Gonzalez-Wayne. She was born male, but for the sake of simplicity, once again, we're using her preferred name.

when AJ is around 15-16, Pandora and Aurora adopt Collin Lighthill after briefly meeting him at camp when something not yet revealed happens to AJ. :D

I hope this isn't too confusing!

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #36:

Trans, Part 1

She was lovely.

It was the fall of 1993, our final year of high school, and she'd already had too hard of a life: no memories of her birth mother, an altogether lackluster father and a stepmother who was all mock kindness over hard edges, the resentment covert and steady.

We had come together at the dawn of high school, two sensitive kids from opposite ends of LA who met in a summer camp glory hole. That's what you call a crumbling spot of earth in goldrush country, formed a century or more beforehand by a single stick of hopeful dynamite.

I remember the two of us scurrying down into the near darkness with a few other kids, a box of surreptitiously swiped matches in tow. A four foot high and wobbly baby pine was beginning to block off the entrance, a pine that has since devoured the glory hole in its quest for strength and water. Today that tree is well over a hundred feet tall.

But 31 years ago it gave no protest as we lit all those matches, one at a time, and talked heatedly about God knows what. Joni says it best: that's how our time began.

We were just two kids, both a bit scarred, both a bit scared. We craved reassurance mostly; we listened to Love's Forever Changes while holding hands.

Years passed. We lived far apart and her parents did all they could to block the relationship but we still managed to see one another with some regularity as ninth grade turned into tenth, then turned and turned again until suddenly it was our senior year and we'd grown up together. I validated and praised her. She did the same for me. We listened to a lot of Leonard Cohen. She sewed me a flannel shirt.

And then, after all our years of promise and worry, I was suddenly done. Everything between us was revealed to me as too grown up, too heavy and troubling. What's more, I was in love, and for real this time, and with someone else, someone who showed me an adult future that was both brilliant and steadfast.

I was 17 years old. I wanted to be more than a good boyfriend. I wanted to be happy.

And so I had to let her terribly down.

There was no point in showing her my brand new, dollar bin, version of Trans when she showed up at my parents' house on that hot fall day for our long scheduled Dylan show at the Hollywood Bowl. Santana, ridiculously, shared the bill; the only thing I knew about Santana was that Jonathan Richman told his early audiences that listening to Santana records was a general waste of one's time. I believed Jonathan, of course. I still do.

But there she was on my doorstep, flushed with excitement, her two front teeth freshly chipped from a older-step-sister-saddled-with-too-much-responsibility accident in her grandparents' pool. She had no idea whatsoever what as about to happen.

Could I have spared her from that night? Could I have written her an honest letter or made a simple phone call explaining that I was so terribly sorry but that I had fallen in love with someone else?

Yes, I could have. And yes, of course, I should have.

But the simple truth is that I craved the drama. After all, I was listening to a lot of Trans and Another Side of Bob Dylan at the time: records full of self-importance, drama and manly vibes. And, after a childhood of being chosen last with a sigh for every social and athletic event, I was ready to do something audacious, cold and rash. I'd tell her that we were done in person. In front of all my friends. At a Bob Dylan show.

"It ain't me, babe. No, no, no. It ain't me, babe. It ain't me your looking for. Babe."

Good God: this story is awful, isn't it? Happily, I came slightly to my senses and chickened out, taking her instead, pre-show, to the Mexican hole in the wall down the street from my house for tacos and truth.

Listen, I said. I'm sorry but...

She was furious. Livid. I was selfish, she declared. I was stupid. I had ruined everything.

I listened. All her assessments struck me as reasonable. My teenage fantasies about how cool the whole thing was gonna be were obviously hollow and dumb. And so I finished her taco. It was the only useful action I could come up with.

And then I introduced her to Thom Moore.

Do you know who I'm talking about? We're talking Thom Moore of Moore Brothers fame. If that doesn't mean anything to you, go listen to this:

The reckless, way-cooler-than-Beck, north LA trip hot white man music he was making at that point is not available on YouTube. Which is stupid. This song is from a few years later, after GBV had largely beat him to the punch. But Thom was, and still is, the coolest person to ever befriend me. We haven't talked in 20 years or more now but, whatever: he's so cool. Hi Thom!

It was just supposed to be the three of us that night, driving to see Dylan in my parents' armadillo cake of a Ford Tempo, which responded to heat of any kind by simply turning off. Mid-freeway? Yeah, if it got too hot the car would just stop. I figured Thom would lighten the mood between the two of us and stop her from freaking out too much. But I had a long ago buddy named Matt who always knew how to upstage me.

(We're not talking here about my best buddy Matt, whose favorite Shakey songs are Homegrown, F%^&king Up and T-Bone, in that order, but another, long ago buddy, also named Matt. He was not a Shakey guy. Rather, he was into The Rembrandts.)

Yeah, Rembradts Matt was definitely not as cool as T-Bone Matt. That's just the way it is, baby. (And for the record, I did not make myself listen to the song above while writing this; I just pasted it in so you'd get a sense of the gentleman in question. So feel free to follow my lead and take a hard pass.)

And so, anyway, Rembrandts Matt, who had caught wind of my sophomoric break up plans for the evening, decided to do me one better by dumping his own long term, also-out-of-town girlfriend immediately before the concert as well.

But Rembrandts Matt did his dumping in even more spectacular fashion. Things were thrown. Blame was cast. My famous brother remembers juvenile fisticuffs occurring between them in the small hours of the night ahead inside a donut shop. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Suffice it to say that all the men involved in this night that I'm chronicling were obviously rather childish.

And so, rather than wind up driving to the concert with just my poor, suddenly-ex, ladyfriend beside me and a surely-he'll-pick-us-all-up wit like Thom in the back seat, my long ago buddy Matt's own far less poor, but also suddenly-ex, ladyfriend wound up in my backseat as well - she absolutely refused to drive with Matt. And my own suddenly ex-lady friend joined her back there, telling Thom that if he wanted to sit beside to the world's worst person he was welcome to the passenger seat. Those two ladies' indignation filled up my parents' Tempo like hot farts after pizza in a sixth grade bunkhouse. It was going to be one hell of a drive.

"What's going on here ladies?" Thom asked, spinning around to grin into their fury as I pulled away from the curb, steering wheel gripped like a life preserver. Thom, who was a new friend to me at that point, had never met either of the ladies in question before that moment. He had no real idea what had just gone down, but he was digging the vibes.

After getting the general gist of things through clenched jaws and unprintable words, most of which began with F's, A's and Z's, Thom started riffing. He'd once spent half an hour freestyle rapping in the very same car about squeezable canned cheese; he could riff.

"Listen: ladies! Take a step back!" he declared. Whenever he spoke it seemed like someone was beatboxing in support. "These knuckleheads who let you down tonight are surely insignificant blips in what will be two very long lifetimes of romantic opportunity! We're off to a Dylan show, right? Well, there's gonna be thousands upon thousands of lonely ass, equally dumb men there for you to choose from. I mean, come on! Here, let me angle the rear view mirror a bit so you can take a look at yourselves. Uncross those angry arms and take a look: yeah, that's it! You are both, I must say, rather fetching! I know plenty of guys - hell, I am one of those guys - who'd be all too happy to take the place of either of these - or both of these! - dopes by your side."

He cackled through it all, having the time of his life.

"Shut up Thom!" they both bellowed in response. They too had never met before that night but they already spoke in perfect unison, holding each other's hands and utterly bonded in cold, dark and shimmering, feminine fury.

I won't give you every last detail of what happened next - and, I promise, Trans does winds up central to this story (just relax already: this is Part 1 of what will be a few posts dedicated to Neil's mostly cool and bizarre record) - so let's hit fast-forward:

...there we are, sitting midway back from the stage beside a guy 25 years older than us; he's describing how his life was fundamentally changed in 1974 when he saw Bob perform Ballad of a Thin Man on solo piano. (My famous brother says there is no evidence whatsoever that such a performance ever occurred)...

...and there we are, trying to have a teenage picnic post show in the parking lot. Someone's mother has sent a chocolate cake with a big butcher knife for the slicing. But Matt's ex-lady friend is whispering again in the ear of my own ex-ladyfriend and then mine is taking the knife from his and brandishing it at me in a mock-serious manner than fails to come across as mock-serious but is instead rather terrifying. I whimper and retreat. To this day I do not tend to eat cake...

... and there we are, and it's well after one in the morning, and the two of us are standing on a street corner somewhere in Hollywood, fruitlessly ringing the doorbell of some family friend of her parents at whose house she is supposed to stay the night (because staying at my own house was forever out of the question). But the damn person won't answer the bell and it's cold out and so I give her my favorite flannel - not the one she sewed for me, that one was always itchy, but my favorite flannel - because what the hell else can I offer her of any value, and then the door finally opens and in she goes, still furious, and I know we'll probably never see each other again... and, oh crap: she's still wearing my flannel!

I arrived home around two in the morning totally demoralized. The night was supposed to have been epic, the kind of thing I'd boast about and include in my congratulatory memoirs some day. But Santana had played forever like one big Joe Freakin' Lala cover band and Dylan had sung Stuck Inside of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again so incomprehensibly that I had only realized he what he was performing during the final chorus, and I'd spent the night so scared and so embarrassed and so, so, so deeply disappointed in myself. I was being a jerk to a lovely person. I had probably ruined her life.

At that point in my adolescence I pretty much only entered and exited my parents' house through my bedroom window. Doing so seemed like the cool way to do things and it exhibited the kind of cavalier independence from tradition and family ties which I craved. So I sighed and circled around back. It was time to hurdle inside and be sad and alone.

But my room was packed. Homegrown Matt was in there, not Rembrandts Matt. Plus there were 3 or 4 other of my friends. They were all wide awake, utterly uninvited and brimming over with joy.

Plus, Thom was there, working the turntable. And he had Shakey's manly panegyric for all things troubling, goofy and danceable turned up to 11:

Yes, it was true: I'd been a jerk to her. And yes, I'd let her down.

But I'd also done the right thing. And it was over. My room was now filled with unexpected joy and Neil Young. My friends had picked me first for their team.

And that's how I knew that everything was going to work out. That's how I knew that I was going to be okay.

And so was she. So was she.

[atlafan]

today would’ve been my papa’s 101st birthday, I know I was lucky to have him for the 20 years that I did, but I miss him so much every day. I miss calling and hearing him say, “hi, baby”. His dementia was really bad towards the end. He could only really remember two people: my Nannie and me. I remember the last time I visited them in Florida. My Nannie had urged us to come because she really thought he was on his last leg. I remember walking into their house and he was napping on the couch, all curled up and cozy. My mom and sister came too, so the three of us cautiously walked over. He never looked so small to me, he was a pretty big guy. I knelt down next to the couch because I saw him move a little. I said, “hi, papa”, not knowing if he’d remember me, but without even opening his eyes, he said, “hi, baby”. I remember looking up at my mom with so much hope in my eyes that my papa was still in there, somewhere. He came back to life that week. When we got home, I cried to my brother on the phone because he hadn’t gone to visit them in a while and I begged him to because I knew he’d regret not being able to say goodbye. That may, my brother and his then girlfriend (now his wife) went down to visit. My brother was the last grandchild to see my papa alive. Little did we know that that July we would all be flying back to Florida for his funeral.

This man was not my biological grandfather. My biological grandfather was only someone we’d see occasionally. We had a relationship with him and his wife, but it wasn’t like the relationship we had with Nannie and papa. My papa was 18 years older than my Nannie. They met when he was turning 65. My Nannie was already a grandmother. She was a very young mother, so in turn, a very young grandmother. My papa was the oldest of 13 kids, and served in the naval air force in the pacific during WWII. Fun fact, he was so handsome that they used his headshot on posters to get other young men to join the Air Force.

My grandparents met on the beach. My papa used to go all the time, and one day one of his daughters (who my Nannie was only like 10 years older than lmao) was like, “Dad, who do you keep looking at?” And my papa pointed and said, “that woman in the black bathing suit”. That woman was my Nannie. They went on one date, went to bed (as my Nannie would say), and never separated.

My papa didn’t retire from the longshoreman’s union until he was 82. He still referred to his younger siblings as “the kids”. He was always taking care of other people. And loved being our papa. His biological grandchildren are pieces of shit and barely had a relationship with him because their mother made them side more with my papa’s ex wife. Me and my siblings and my cousins were his grandkids. When my brother was born, Papa was babysitting my oldest sister. My dad came to get her to go meet my brother. My papa was so upset that he called my Nannie and said, “he took the baby!” and all my Nannie could say was, “well, Jimmy, it’s his baby”. And the first time my papa got to meet my brother, no one else was allowed to hold him. He held onto him the entire time. He finally had the boy he always wanted (because his bio grandson again is a piece of shit).

Then my other sister came along and then me. The baby. His baby. My father was very verbally abusive towards my mother and towards us. So going to Nannie and papa’s (long before they moved to Florida) was like our safe haven. My papa adored my Nannie and let her so basically anything she wanted, and he’d give her money to take us shopping for whatever we wanted. And we’d come home and show him all the toys and clothes we got and he genuinely loved looking at everything. We always made sure to say thank you. He paid for my sister’s sleep away camp. He paid for my cousin’s wife to go to nursing school.

When I was little, I never really felt loved or cared for. But Nannie and papa made me feel loved and cared for. My Nannie would call me, and still does, her precious girl. Papa would too. If he wasn’t calling me his baby he was calling me Jordan Rose. He would take me to the park if I was staying with them during a time my Nannie was at work. He always made sure he packed tonic and snacks. He made sure I had a bucket hat for the beach. He made sure I was safe.

My papa loved all of us unconditionally. He cared about how we did in school. He took care of my Nannie. And in return, she took care of him and kept him going way longer than he would have if he didn’t have her.

I hope someday I’ll find someone that will make me feel this loved and cared for again.

[lexie-thurkear]

Now, I was born early November, while they were going over the divorce. At roughly 6 weeks old, I became extremely ill. My mother rushed me to the hospital where they discovered I had contracted rsv that had quickly developed into pneumonia. My fever was roughly 103°F. For a fairly newborn baby, that is danger territory. That is, this baby is unlikely to make it, even in the mid-90s. I was so small they had to use a vein in my head for the IV. My mother never told her father of this. Just before I was born, they discovered my brother had a heart condition where the central wall is thickened to where it could cover the valves if his heart rate goes up. My mother blamed it on my father. She told her father, he said he should come visit only he never did. The next thing she heard was him angry she didn't thank him for the blow up pool he had bought for my brother, that was at his place, in Reno, that my mother had no idea about. So, given his reaction to my brother's health, she never told him about how his newborn granddaughter nearly died. She hasn't contacted him since then. I survived though my father is suspicious that the fever may have caused me to develop ADHD and may have worsened my autism. They divorced by the time I was 3 months old. They both got new partners, one that resulted in my younger brother through my father and a baby sister through my mother.

My younger brother is two yrs younger than me and given his mother and our father had just broken up when she said she was pregnant, he rightfully asked for a paternity test. He had a girlfriend between her and my mother who he caught cheating and didn't want to be suckered into another marriage by a fake pregnancy or by another man's kid. She was offended but my brother, L, was proven to be my father's. They tried again but one weekend, we all went camping.

My father was in the trailer making lunch when he noticed he couldn't see me or my older brother, K. He leaned out of the door and asked L's mom, who was holding him, where we were. She said we weren't her kids and weren't her responsibility. He found us playing out on the main road going past the camp site. He got us, brought us back to the trailer, loading everything up before driving everyone home. He dropped her off and said they were through and he'd be seeing her in court over L's custody. Given how Utah is in favor of mothers, unless they are sjown to be truly awful, he was only granted visitation. He hasn't seen L since he was 2, the last time I saw him.

My sister, H, is six years younger than me by my mother's long term/on again-off again boyfriend, M. M has been in my life since early on, often putting down for naps as a baby. As babies do, they said I've spat up on him more than once. M's parents were my honorary grandparents. I never met my maternal grandfather, to the point I don't even know his name or seen his face aside from old pictures. M's mom, R, tried K and I like her grandbabies. She was an amazing woman and a school teacher. Her husband, M's dad O, taught me at 4 how to ride a horse. I don't remember what his job was before retirement. O is the closest I have to a grandpa. My father's father lived across the main road from us all my childhood and I cannot remember a single time he came to visit us. R passed away when H was only about 3 or 4 and I spent the whole viewing, my first, trying to keep H distracted so she couldn't see her grandma's body. Even then I knew something said had happened and R was gone. O has since remarried to a wonderful lady though I don't know her too well.

On to my mental issues, I was diagnosed with ADHD and OCD at around 2. My father and paternal grandma both knew there was something else up with me but my mother refused to get me tested for anything else. And so, I spent years being bullied and bounced around from class to class, school to school. Finally, in 4th grade, the school psychologist insisted my mother have me tested for autism. The very thing my father and grandma suspected. She however, neglected to tell me and so I didn't know what was wrong with me.

[faolan-red-eagle]

Hiiiiiii qm I allowed 2 ask for all hte childhood oc asks for Ru my beloved bestest friend Ru :3 (if that is too many u can shrimply pick the ones u want to answer the most instead I just love this man)

ohohoho yes!!

What was your muse's personality like as a kid? How has it changed since then?

Ru was a very mischievous and curious child! He loved asking questions about everything he didn't understand, much to the annoyance of some of his minders growing up, haha. As an adult, he is still very curious and a mischief-maker, but he has learned to tone it down a bit and be more subtle about it.

Where did your muse grow up? What was their home like? Did they like where they grew up?

He grew up in several places! He was born in Markarth and lived there for the first five years of his life, then spent time as a nomadic refugee for eight years, before settling in and around Karthspire when he was a teenager. He loves living in Karthspire now, but will always feel a bit homesick for the Markarth he knew as a young child. In Markarth, his family lived in what is now the Thane's house, and in Karthspire they live in the cave system that surrounds the blood seal to Sky Haven Temple. (The "Forsworn camp" that is above Karthspire is actually just sentries guarding the real, much larger underground settlement and scaring away any would-be adventurers.)

What did your muse's family look like? Parents, grandparents? Big or small? Who was around the house when your muse was a kid?

Oh, Ruaidri had a big multigenerational family as a kid! He had three parents, five siblings, and a lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins, though only one grandparent (his second father's adopted mom, Ciara, who is a hagraven and spiritual leader of their clan. His mother's parents died before he was born, and his blood-father's parents are still around, but Ru has never met them because they are from a different, more isolated clan living in the Druadach mountains, though he does want to meet them someday.) Most of his family could be found in or near the house at different times of day on a regular basis.

How was your muse's relationship with their childhood guardians? Has it changed over time, and if so, how? Do they keep in touch?

Ru actually hardcore resented his uncle for a long time, blaming him for not being able to get more of their family to safety. As an adult, their relationship is getting better, as Ru learns to let go of that resentment, but it still a bit awkward. They do keep in touch and talk regularly, however, and they care greatly for each other despite their past strained relationship.

Does your muse have any siblings? What was their relationship like growing up? Is it any different now?

Ruaidri is technically the second youngest of six children, though after Ulfric's siege of Markarth he is the middle sibling of two surviving sisters. He was an absolute Menace to his older sister growing up, as well as almost smotheringly protective of his baby sister due to the trauma of losing most of his family. He learned to mellow out once his baby sister started to really come into her magic, however, and now is very happy to just be an annoying older brother to her, haha.

Did your muse have a best friend? Friends? Who did they hang out with as a kid? Are they still friends?

Ru has a few friends, most prominently Diarmuid, a journeyman wardcrafter, who remains a good friend. They had a friends-with-benefits relationship when they were teenagers, but have not rekindled that aspect of their relationship as adults.

Did your muse have any enemies? Playground rivalries? How did that turn out?

Ru was generally well-liked, and had only one "enemy" of sorts: Muiri, who used to fling mud at him when he didn't want to play potion-making with her anymore. He gets a kick out of re-meeting her when she's an apothecary's apprentice as an adult.

What did your muse do in their free time? How did they entertain themself as a kid?

He liked making "sculptures" out of river clay with the other kids, and also painted pebbles and bits tree bark.

What was your muse's education like? Did they go to school? Did they like it?

Reachfolk education is incredibly hands-on, and whoever has the time and resources to teach young children is expected to do so to the best of their ability. Ru loved learning new skills, and felt proud whenever he got a new skill right, as he was learning to contribute to and give back to his community. Ruaidri does not encounter a "traditional" classroom setting until he goes to the College of Winterhold, and generally hates that style of teaching. He starts bringing knitting or basket-weaving tools to classes so he has something to do with his hands, and it helps him feel that the learning is "productive".

What responsibilities did your muse have as a child? Chores? Babysitting? How good were they at fulfilling their responsibilities?

Ruaidri, like all Reach children, was expected to help out wherever he could, be that in babysitting the very young children, making baskets, fishing, gathering firewood, chopping vegetables for cooking, or foraging for medicinal herbs for the healers to use. He did very well at fulfilling his responsibilities, but had to be reminded he needed to rest, too, as he had a tendency to overwork himself at times.

What expectations were placed on your muse as a child? Who had those expectations for your muse? How did your muse feel about them?

The expectations placed on him were to give back to his community and assist his clanmembers in whatever ways they needed, and they were expected to assist him if he needed it. He has always felt very comforted by the knowledge that he can ask for assistance and expect it to be given, even if he sometimes struggles with asking for that help.

Did your muse go on any trips or vacations as a kid? Where did they go? How did they feel about traveling?

Most of Ru's traveling was while he was a refugee, and it was marked by fear and scarcity, so he did not like it very much. The last family trip he went on was when he was three years old, to visit an aunt in Karthwasten, but he does not remember this.

What did your muse want to be when they grew up? Did they have any childhood dreams, and have they achieved them?

As a child, Ru wanted to be a werewolf like his blood-father. (he thought it was So Cool that his dad could turn into a giant wolf whenever he wanted) He also wanted to be a master archer, like his second father. As an adult, Ru becomes a werebear, which helps him feel closer to his blood-father's memory, and is an exceptionally skilled archer. He is also a devotee of Hircine, in honor of his mother, who was a priestess of Hircine.

Who was a mentor or a hero to your muse as a kid? Why did your muse look up to them and what did your muse learn from them? How is that relationship now?

Ru's mentor growing up was a woman named Nathari, a Reachfolk Dunmer vateshran, who taught him archery and Reach history. He looked up to her for her historical knowledge, as she was present for many of the stories she told him, being an advanced 412 years old at the beginning of their mentorship when Ru was fifteen. (She also attempted to teach him magic, but the only magic Ru ever gained proficiency in was ice wall, warding and conjuring a bow.) He still has great respect for her, and treats her with the formality a vateshran is expected to be given.

What's one childhood memory that has stuck with your muse over the years? What's its significance to your muse now?

A childhood memory that has stuck with Ru is the last time he saw his parents, during the siege of Markarth, and was a deeply traumatic experience for him. As an adult, he still carries that trauma, but also has learned (with therapy) to stop feeling personally guilty for his parents' deaths, and has come to respect what their decisions to sacrifice themselves for their children means: that they were loved, all of them, fiercely, enough to be worth dying to defend.

If your muse could say one thing to their childhood self, what would they say? Would your muse want to meet their childhood self in the first place?

He would want to meet his childhood self, to tell him that he needs to put all that anger down, that he needs to let go of that guilt, because it will only end up hurting him (and his family) in the long run.

How is your muse with kids now? Do they want kids of their own? What lessons from their childhood would they pass on to the next generation?

Ru is very good with kids! He has one daughter so far, Lucia, who he adopted in Whiterun, but he wants to have lots of kids someday, to give them the kind of family he had when he was very young. (he ends up adopting most of the orphans in Honorhall and a few from various cities in Skryim, and his clan welcomes all of them happily) He would do his very best to instill a sense of compassion and community in all his children, teaching them everything he knows to the best of his ability, and working with them to find other teachers for the things he can't help with. He teaches his children the importance of knowing when to speak up for a friend, and when to trust them to fight on their merit. He teaches them how to communicate their feelings better than he did as a child, in hopes that they will not turn out as damaged as he did.

What's one thing that instantly transports your muse back to their childhood? Why?

The smell of rosemary and lavender reminds him of his mother's hugs, because it was the smell of incense in Hircine's shrine and it clung to her robes.

[cedar-sunshine]

I hate math so instead I'm gonna be using this time to flesh out some of my characters families publicly

Atlas- has like 5 siblings, 3 are cis boys, one is a cis girl and the 5th is a trans girl, his parents are very loving and very overwhelmed so when he was a kid they'd send each of their children out to their grandparents' place on alternating weekends to get a break. Atlas always seemed very calm and easy but then you'd look in his room that he shares eith his sister and he'd have like. A deer in there. He loves his family but they're very overwhelming so he lives with his grandparents a lot of the time now, they kind of expect him to come to their place 30% of the week after school and he has his own room there (easier when he isn't living in a 4 room apartment with 6 other people). Two of his brothers are older (17 and 18) and one is the youngest in the family (10) and they're all equally bullshit chaotic. Whenever they go to their grandparents' for a weekend the older two always build something ridiculous like a trebuchet or working fake guillotine and the youngest always tries it out. His sister who's trans is 21 and doesn't live at home due to the chaos, but she does try to visit as often as she can. His other sister is 13 and as chaotic as his brothers, but much subtler about it (she blames it on the 10 year old whenever her weird experiments get found by their parents)

Alex- he's an only child of two working parents, so he spent a lot of time alone at home with his dogs and when he met atlas, he pretty much instantly adopted him as a brother figure (atlas is glad that at least one of his brothers isn't batshit insane). When Alex got diagnosed with GAD and a panic disorder, his parents started letting him spend more time with atlas when they were out from the house so he had someone to look out for him. Atlas's grandparents think that Alex is very sweet and polite and have basically become a secondary family for him whenever he needs one. It's not that his parents are bad, they just don't have the money to be able to have enough time for him.

Athena- she has a twin brother and single father (who is not related to the god) and he was very much not expecting two children, especially two children who have divine powers (Athena has her fire manipulation and her brother is pretty much completely heat resistant which gave their dad many heart attacks when he was a toddler and kept taking naps in the oven after turning it on, or cuddling with a radiator/sticking his hands in boiling water). Their dad is like 50 or 60 and tries very hard for his children and they appreciate him a lot, but he just can't keep up with them. During the school year, they're pretty much constantly causing trouble and the principal has threatened to suspend them like four times (they both have near-straight As though) and he just doesn't know what to do.

Lee- his bio parents were Very not ready for a kid and gave him to their family friend, who also didn't really know what to do with him but has been trying their best. They work for the island summer camp as a ranger (that's why Lee lives there) so he's always had a home and a very large family of all the rangers and staff, but he only gets a nuclear family after the story when he ends up living with angel, essie and vince. They were kind of looking to adopt and then angel brought Lee back so he could actually go to a real school instead of being homeschooled by whichever centaur ranger or mermaid grounds keeper thought they maybe knew math. He never technically had siblings, but he had a sibling relationship with many of the younger centaurs on the island. He never learned enough sign language to communicate with the merfolk who didn't know English, but he still has a pretty close relationship with them due to growing up together.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary. Random thoughts.

🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Ugh. If you could just please give me a moment to explain.

I’ve been trying to shed the fact that I’ve had some exposure to politics. It started at a young age when LBJ (see MTG’s recent remarks about LBJ), now I may not have fully aware nor fully understood what was happening, however years later, I’ve a different perspective.

The Vox Populi all have chimed in.

Yet the consensus is that there are several camps: Love, Hate, Like, A Definite Maybe and I’ve Never Ever Voted, but from my recliner I’ll complain about everything.

This is not uncommon. Since history is now becoming a trigger word for many people, it exists regardless. I know that in my experience and what happened in my life is now a moot point; yet I grew up in a space that was very reminiscent of the United Nations. I had folks such as Barbara Jordan, William F. Buckley, Jr. and Benjamin Netanyahu come into my home and break bread and have some fellowship. I was ignorant. I thought that it was normal to have these people orbit my world.

Meanwhile as I was going to school, I didn’t give it a second thought that I would be able to meet kids and their families from Japan, Korea, England, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Israel, Ghana and Russia. I thought it was perfectly normal to have Black and White living together.

Then in March of 1974, I saw first hand the ugly face of Racism, Bigotry and Hatred when I moved to NYC from Boston. At that moment in time, desegregation was happening and children were being bused from one school to another school. I knew some of the characters involved such as Louise Day Hicks. I had met her once and I was flabbergasted.

At William Cowper Junior High School in Maspeth, Queens, NYC, I had been physically assaulted several times by four boys who were of the view that I was the sole reason for the rioting in the streets due to busing and integration. They all believed that I had moved to NYC to escape the violence and school integration.

Uh…William Cowper was racially diverse. Yet I was positively discriminated against because I was from Boston and I must have had a finger in the desegregation movement. Dude.

As I mentioned earlier, everyone has opinions about what did happen and what is happening. Folks have complained about LBJ through JRB.

Folks rant and rave about each and every President yet not one person has ever said that they had a personal visit from The President who had deliberately singled them out and then destroyed their lives. The Mayors nor The Governors have come out to your house and knocked on the door and said, “I don’t know you but I’m going to ruin your life because I can.”

Your Grandparents don’t need Medicare/Medicaid. You like me have been employed since 1977 and you don’t need Social Security. You can’t have Clean Water from the municipality but you can have water from the culverts that run along the highways. You can’t have Clean Air because of the Chemical Plant we want to build next to your house. Here in the United States, we can say that the government sucks however in some countries you can’t. In those countries where you can’t say anything about anything, you can and will absolutely disappear never to be seen again should you ever utter a word about the government or the people in power.

I’m pretty sure that none of you had read George Orwell’s book 1984, but you want to actually live life like those depicted in Margaret Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale. Apparently you have a dream that like the movie Soylent Green is a goal. The subplot was that if you were considered undesirable etc you’d vanish and then lo and behold Soylent Green.

In some of those totalitarian countries, yes, there’s universal healthcare but it’s not what you think. One person has been riddled with bullets, they just might be first in line and then maybe not. One person may have infection and may need antibiotics, but they just might not get those antibiotics. Malaria can be controlled like Polio but like Leptospirosis, we don’t need or want a vaccine because there are nano bots and microchips in them.

We need more incidents like Columbine, Parkland and Uvalde. We need more heartbeat bills in place in order to deny women prenatal care and after they give birth, we need to abandon them altogether. We need to stop telling men that masturbation is a heinous crime and that all women need to get pregnant just because. Women absolutely should be seen and not heard and women like Margaret Thatcher, Corazon Aquino, Benazir Bhutto and Angela Merkel are all ruining it for women. There shouldn’t be women like Wilma Rudolph, Babe Didrikson Zaharias or Billie Jean King.

Biden wants to make an attempt to bring folks together in order to have things like clean water, clean air and a healthy debate about a plethora of issues that could actually help us.

Yet the Orange Palpatine wants me dead because I said, hey now, Florida is disappearing and I don’t like that. I said, hey now, they’re strip mining the Grand Canyon and the Colorado River is polluting the drinking water of Texans. He says that’s okay. The water is only becoming more polluted by erecting more fracking sites in people’s backyards. Then on TV and in Movies, diversity, equality and inclusion are crimes against humanity. Ed Sullivan should never had introduced us to Diana Ross and The Supremes. Why is there a Bruce Lee or Yakov Smirnoff? Why on God’s green earth would anyone ever want to go see the remake of The Color Purple or even just acknowledge Crazy Rich Asians. Harvey Korman as Mother Marcus on Carol Burnett show is acceptable as Milton Berle in a dress but RuPaul or Tyler Perry, two black men who practically pass as women. Kill them immediately. We absolutely need more shows like Make Room for Daddy, Father Knows Best, The Honeymooners and Leave It To Beaver. We never ever should have heard about Norman Lear, Flip Wilson and we must absolutely get rid of America’s Got Talent Show because they promote diversity, equality and inclusion.

Erasure of James Brown, Rick James and Bad Bunny is a great example to show us that Andy Williams, Perry Como and Pat Boone is the only way to go. I mean erasure of Judy Garland, Adele and Taylor Swift together would make an awesome impact for saying women need to be barefoot and pregnant and they should be able to do everything for their men including breathing.

In conclusion, if Joe Biden is doing such a horrible job then why do have the ability to change the channel and look for a different perspective? Yet the twice impeached, twice indicted and liable for sexual harassment retiree in Florida wants to give you only one channel to watch and no chance at all for a counterpoint? Yeah that Governor in Pennsylvania should never had fixed that portion of the highway. Every single dog, cat and animal should have the ability and right to have rabies and there’s no need for veterinarians. Thank goodness Rodney King is dead because once he uttered, why can’t we all just get along was his downfall.

[yonce6496]

Hacketteer Headcannons

Ryan: Ok so I don’t know why I feel so strongly about this or if it’s a good thing or a bad thing buuuuut, I feel like Ryan is from New Jersey, I know Hackett’s Quarry is in upstate NY but something about Ryan screams Jersey. Anyway, we know he lives with his little sister and grandparents. With both of Ryan’s parents out of the picture I think one parent passed away and the other parent passed the siblings off onto their grandparents.  Ryan used to be a pretty social kid but kids can be cruel and Ryan quickly learned he wouldn’t get picked on if he just stayed in the back and stayed quiet. Ryan first went to Hackett’s Quarry as a camper when he was young, his first few weeks there were spent alone and not really talking to any of the campers. After a few weeks Ryan met Kaylee, even though she wasn’t a camper she was close in age to the rest of the kids so she ended up joining in most of the activities. Kaylee reached out to him and kickstarted their friendship and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Ryan went back to camp every summer, it’d had been a major highlight of his childhood being able to get away from his grandparent’s small house in the city and enjoy the woods upstate with Kaylee and Caleb who joined their little group even though he was older. 

Ryan and Kaylee kept in contact during the school year by becoming pen pals, they wrote to each other at least once a month. One year Ryan’s grandparents weren’t able to save up enough money to send Ryan to camp that summer. Ryan and his grandmother fought for days over it, he constantly pestered and pleaded with her to go but they simply couldn’t do it. Ryan wrote a letter to Kaylee venting about the situation and complaining about his grandmother and he’d thought nothing of it. A few days later Chris Hackett called his house. He spoke to his grandmother and told her that he’d heard about her money troubles and offered to let Ryan come the camp for a fraction of the cost based on how often he was a camper there and how close he was to his kids Kaylee and Caleb. At first Ryan was overjoyed that he’d be able to go to camp again but he immediately felt guilty. Ryan saw his grandmother crying for the first time in his life, she’d always been a strong woman who kept her family together as best she could but seeing her cry made Ryan him realize that he was the reason. Ryan had no idea how much it had an effect on her, he knew he could be very pushy and outspoken but he didn’t realize how much guilt he’d put on her. When Ryan went to camp that summer, he had trouble fully enjoying himself and having fun. He felt odd being there at camp, it’s what Ryan wanted but he felt so guilty that he got there by whining and making his grandparents feel like failures. He didn’t realize it at the time but it completely changed how he carried himself around others now that he was hyper aware of how his words could affect people and to be honest it kinda scared him into not letting his emotions out. From then on Ryan kept his feelings close to his chest with everyone, he never wanted to unintentionally hurt someone like he had his grandmother. Ryan started the transition from Camper to Councilor as soon a she met the age requirement and gave his paycheck back to his grandmother as soon as he’d return from the summer. One of the reason Ryan got into podcasts was that they were a free way to keep himself entertained and not to financially burden his family.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Good with Kids - Kristie Mewis x Reader

Prompt: Maybe like R is very hard but soft with kids? Idk whatever u want I don’t care as long as it’s Queen Mewis.

Note, so pretty sure this sucks, so let me know. 

“And the crew down there are my nieces and nephews,” Kristie motioned to the group pf young kids racing around the yard, the oldest being only eight, youngest three, trying to keep up the older kids. Y/N nodded seriously, taking in all the name and faces she had met at the family barbeque.

“Kristie, stop calling them that, it sounds like I have a stash of kids that no one knows about,” Sam stomped a foot, dramatically complaining to her sister.

“I don’t know family tree math,” Kristie shrugged her shoulders.

“Cousins Kris, they’re called cousins,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, same thing,” Kristie smiled, knowing she was getting under her sisters skin, Y/N finally cracking a small smile.

“Not the same thing!” Sam exclaimed, she knew what Kristie was doing, but couldn’t help her reaction, drawing the attention of several other family members. Kristie grinned in return while her sister scowled, the family members all giggling, used to the two sisters bantering.

“Be nice to your sister Kristie,” her mom warned, with a smile.

Sam grinned triumphantly at her sister, who just rolled her eyes and tugged Y/N’s hand to the stairs of the deck, leading her to meet the group of kids.

“I thought you liked this girl Kristie,” one of her aunts teased when she saw where they were headed.

Kristie laughed, “I do,” she squeezed one of Y/N’s cheeks, drawing another small smile from the normally stoic woman, “but I think she’ll be able to handle herself.”

“Good, then come sit with me” her grandma cut in, shooing one of the other older grandchildren out of a chair next to her.

Kristie bit her lip and gave Y/N a hesitant look, Y/N giving her a reassuring smile and nod in return, pushing Kristie to sit with her grandparents.

Y/N walked the rest of the way down to kids playing tag in the grass. Kristie sat in the chair, shifting it so she could still see Y/N.

“She’s survived this long today, she won’t run away now,” her aunt teased, handing Kristie another beer.

“I know, but look at her,” Kristie motioned to where Y/N was already beginning to play tag with the kids, “she’s kind of hot, I want to look at her all the time,” she winked at another cousin across from her, drawing an eyeroll from everyone, her grandma giving her a gentle smack in the bicep.

The group grew and shrunk as the afternoon wore on, people coming and going, joining different groups or bouncing between them all. Kristie did her best to concentrate on the people around her, but her focus kept shifting down to the large yard where Y/N was still with the kids, them having accepted her as their own.

The kids and Y/N had found a youth size football, a small game going on. The word game used loosely, mostly the kids running around and Y/N gently throwing it for them to catch or running with it and them all tackling her to the ground. The adults all watched on, sharing smiles when they saw how happy all the kids were, Y/N distributing attention to them all, none of them feeling left out. Shifting easily to be a little rougher with the bigger kids, and incredibly gentle with the smaller ones.

“Alright, go get your kid and we’ll get ours,” one of the aunts smiled at Kristie, motioning to the group of kids attempting to drag Y/N down, “supper is ready.”

The pair made their way down the stairs, “supper guys, go wash your hands,” the aunt clapped her hands, gaining the attention of the group.

“Five more minutes!” the oldest called out.

“Yeah! Five more minutes!” Y/N called out from the bottom of the pile of kids, head popping up while she gently lifted a small body off her, it quickly replaced by another.

The rest of the parents all laughed, having been prepared to wrangle their own kids to the table, not expecting the lone adult to be difficult as well. Kristie stared at her girlfriend, mouth agape, before closing it and giving Y/N a hard stare.

Y/N immediately began sitting up, shifting kids to sit up with her, “supper guys! Lets go wash our hands!” the kids all began to scamper off her and race to the bathroom to wash their hands.

“Guess who just earned all future babysitting jobs,” one of the uncles patted Kristie on the back while following the rest of the family inside.

Kristie’s eyes never left Y/N as she pushed herself up once all limbs were untangled from her, brushing off any loose grass before meeting Kristie’s, giving her a wide smile.

“You really are a big kid, aren’t you?” Kristie met her as Y/N began to walk forward, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Y/N smiled down at the blonde, wrapping an arm of her own around Kristie’s shoulders, the couple making their way to the house.

Y/N pulled away when they walked in the house, washing her hands, before sitting at the table next to Kristie.

Supper was a loud, busy thing. Family all talking over each other, stories being thrown about, gentle ribbing all around.  

“You are nothing like these two described you, Y/N,” an aunt smiled across the table, shooting a smirk to Kristie, who rolled her eyes at the teasing.

“Oh?” Y/N turned, giving Kristie a smirk of her own, then shifting her eyes to Sam, who blushed at the look.

“Yupp!” an uncle grinned as well, “Sammy makes you sound terrifying,” he nudged the blushing blonde, “I think she’s scared of you.” Y/N had a hard exterior, and was very quiet, many people interpreting both for her to be very unapproachable.

“I am not!” Sam was quick to defend herself, “I’m not scared of you Y/N,” she looked at Y/N eyes wide, still blushing, Y/N continued to smirk at her, “I’m not!”

“Sure you’re not Sammy,” Y/N just winked, “what are you telling them?”

“Nothing! Kristie says stuff,” Sam stammered out, trying to push the blame onto her sister, pointing across the table. Kristie giggled at how flushed her sister got over nothing.

“They’re fishing Ssmmy,” Kristie smiled, resting a hand on Y/N’s thigh, the couple smiling as Sam flopped back in her chair, mouth wide, realizing she fell right into it.

The table as laughing at Sam, Kristie squeezed Y/N’s thigh, leaning slightly into her side, tilting her chin up and smiling at her girlfriend.

Someone else was about to tease Sam as well, but was cut off by cutlery hitting a plate, a loud “no” being called from the children’s table further down. Everyone looked over to a pouting toddler, arms crossed, lips pursed out, eyebrows furrowed. An exasperated ten year old glaring down. Letting out a sigh, an aunt pushed up from the table, squatting in between the children, working to sooth both upset children.

After a few minutes, the aunt stood up with the toddler in her arms, taking the plate off the table with her and returning to her original seat, toddler remaining on her lap.

The pout remained firm on the toddler’s face with his face tucked into his mom’s neck. Everyone else ignored the outburst, resuming conversation, mom continuing to try and encourage the boy to eat.

Part of the face peaked out, shyly trying to glance around the table, making eye contact with Y/N who made a funny face before anyone else noticed. Giggling, he tucked his face back in briefly, before coming back out, Y/N giving him another silly face.

His mom tried to encourage a fork of food, a grumbled “no”, and his face burrowed back in. Letting out a sigh, she dropped the fork back to his plate, going back to her own.

Y/N bit her lip when she noticed a small hand creep out and towards her plate, one eye peeking out from his mom’s shoulder. She slid her plate closer to the boy, offering her fork out to him. Supressing her own giggle, she watched while the boy awkwardly fisted the fork and stabbed blindly at food on her own plate, no one else at the table aware, having moved on to teasing someone else. The boys head finally lifted fully to put the forkful of food in his mouth, not gaining the attention of his mom.

“Oh Y/N I am so sorry,” she apologized once she realized where the fork of food had come from, noticing the plate of food pushed closer to them.

“Don’t worry about it, my food is just better I guess,” Y/N smirked, shrugging one shoulder, everyone giggling as the small boy reached out for another forkful of food.

“How come at camp you threatened to stab me with my own fork when I wanted to try some of your food?” Sam gasped when she watched the boy go in for a third forkful.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N played coy, rotating the plate to give the boy something else to stab, subtly encouraging the pile of broccoli on the other side.

The boy crinkled his nose, trying to spear another piece of chicken on the far end. Y/N intercepted the fork, taking it into her own hand, and making a show of picking up broccoli and enjoying the bite. Winking at the boy, she stabbed a smaller piece, twirling the fork for his to take it.

Instead of using his hands, he leaned forward, eating off the fork while Y/N held it. His mom rolled her eyes, everyone else giggling at the boy. He pulled himself out of his moms arm, crawling awkwardly into Y/N’s lap.

“No, buddy, you can’t sit in Y/N’s lap,” his mom gripped his hips to try and pull him back.

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N helped guide him the rest of the way, helping him settle in her lap.

Kristie stared lovingly at her girlfriend, watching as Y/N guided another forkful of broccoli into his mouth, the boy shook his head, refusing the vegetable. Y/N smiled, diverting the fork to her mouth, taking the bite with a dramatic chomping sound. His eyes tracked the motion, before clumsily picked up his fork to mimic the action.

Y/N smirked and shot a wink to his mom, everyone’s mouths dropping when he took another without prompting. The meal continued on, the pair continuing to eat off each other’s plates, the boy no longer complaining about eating any of the food.

Desert took everyone to the backyard, a fire having been started, ingredients for smores set out. Several of the kids having found their way to Y/N’s lap, one sat on either thigh, a third squished in the middle, and two more with chairs pulled as close as possible on either side.

Everyone watched while Y/N gave each child equal attention, helping one put a marshmallow on the skewer while answering another’s question, managing to keep all settled.

“You’ve got a good one Kristie,” an aunt leaned over when she saw the blonde watching her girlfriend, her gave soft, smile wide as she took in the woman with all the kids.

Kristie shyly looked away, “I know,” she looked to her aunt, “except now she has me jealous of a bunch of kids.”

They watched as Y/N helped a smaller hand onto to one stick, her other protectively holding a leaning body off her knee.

“That’s alright, I am too,” the uncle on the other side chuckled, “we have spent years trying to get them to all get along and she strolls in and does it without even trying.”

The adults kept an eye on the kids and Y/N, looking over frequently when they noticed how quiet the whole group had gotten. Parents brought their phones out, snapping several pictures of the entire crew asleep. Y/N reclined in the chair, three bodies in her lap leaning into her chest, two on either side snuggled under each arm.  

[random2908]

My two sisters and I are probably never going to marry, probably never going to have kids. Pretty sure my little sister is just all the way aroace. Middle sister and I are somewhere on the gray scale where we don’t identify as ace or aro, but sex and finding a romantic relationship are like down around like #10 on our life priority list. For most allo people it seems like one or both of those is typically in their top 3, and for plenty of people it’s #1.

People talk about Millennials not have kids, generational deviance due to despair, whatever. And it’s like... wow, I don’t think of myself as having or leaning on role models much, but my sisters and I are so lucky this was role-modeled so much for us as kids.

Like. Two of our mother’s siblings never married. They’re both in long-term relationships, but no marriage, no kids, and they’re in their 80s now. Two of our grandparents’ cousins--the two they were closest to--weren’t even in long-term relationships (and were still alive and participating in family stuff in our childhood memories). My grandmother had an aunt who never had romantic relationships--also still alive when I was very young, she lived past 100--and my grandfather had THREE uncles who so far as I know were never in serious relationships, although none of them lived past 40 so even my mom never met them. There were an additional two great-uncles of my grandfather, great-great uncles of my grandmother (my grandparents were distant-ish cousins) whose father died before they were old enough to have an arranged marriage and they decided that gave them the liberty to never be in relationships--one of them lived to be pretty old, like into his 70s, old enough that my grandparents knew him. That’s not getting into the occasional lesbian cousin across the generations (presumably there were gay male cousins and uncles too, but they weren’t out back in the day).

That’s my mom’s side. About half my relatives on my mom’s side never had kids. About half of those were never in serious romantic relationships. It’s common in my family.

On my dad’s side it was rarer, because arranged marriage lasted into my grandparents’ generation and was still universal in my great-grandparents’ generation. But my dad’s favorite great-aunt had been married off to an American in her early 20s, and he died just a few years later (possibly as a US soldier in WWII? I’m not really sure). But not before she got American citizenship, and then she was like, she was an American citizen--what did she even need marriage for anymore? She lived long enough that I remember her, vaguely. Only one of her siblings--only one person in my great-grandparents’ generation--had anything resembling a love match, which is to say one of my dad’s great-aunts married a doctor who was stuck in the same relocation camp as her because it seemed like a pragmatic choice, but she didn’t have parents or a matchmaker to pick him out for her so she did it herself.

That was my dad’s idea of what a love match looked like: he married literally the only Jewish woman in his doctoral program, because he needed to marry and have kids, and that was the option on the table, and at least they laughed at some of the same jokes and really that’s good enough.

My sisters and I were poisoned by American movies, according to my dad. We thought “falling in love” was a thing, and it’s mostly not, he said, and we needed to get over it. Grow up--find someone you can get along with emotionally and financially (because most divorces are over money), someone who will laugh at some of the same jokes and someone you can survive a road trip with without hating them; get married; start procreating. My sisters and I said no, mostly quietly, occasionally out loud in my case because I’d rather have a fight most of the time. Whether or not we believe falling in love is a thing, we weren’t doing that.

But it’s ok. Because on my mother’s side, the American side, the side where arranged marriages ended in the 1880s, this is normal. It’s normal in a big family for only one or two siblings to marry--and our baby brother is married and planning to have kids, it’s not like it’s none of us. It’s not about being a Millennial with Millennial values at all. It’s that the wider message of our family said it was ok to do this, this was a choice available to us. So we took that choice.