#ravon face

[ravonix]

grocy store fit

( it / they )

[mrs-willow]

"A Ravon and a Falcon"

Chapter 7

Benjicot awoke at dawn to the loud hustle and bustle of a castle preparing to host a large gathering. Servants were scurrying from room to room, preparing each to house a guest for a month. The kitchens had been preparing extra food for a feast for two days prior to the arrival of house Arryn and were forced to take extra grain and whine from the castle stores to support the excess number of people that would be in attendance at meals. Even from his window, nearly four hundred feet from the ground, he could hear people running about down below in preparation. As Benjicot rose and began to ready himself for the day, he realized for the first time how truly anxious he was to meet his new wife finally. It had been nearly a month since the betrothal was announced, and for the majority of the time since then, the man had attempted to fill his day to the brim with tasks and training to avoid thinking about the matter for as long as possible. The young Lord changed from his loose sleeping pants to something more suitable for work before he had to change it once more into more formal attire. As Benjicot made his way down to the dining hall for breakfast, the sun had risen and had begun to melt the snow that had fallen the night before. Once he arrived, he was overwhelmed by the business in the castle. Servants were frantically polishing the dining wear as others placed new candles in the large metal chandeliers that hung high on the ceiling. In the thick of it all, he noticed the Maester, Rodric, ordering people about in a rushed manner. As he grabbed a plate of fish and bread from a nearby tray, he plopped down at the back table. As the man scarfed down his breakfast, he began to think of the long journey the Arry party had made and the many struggles they must have faced from the Vale to the Riverlands. The realization he soon made shocked him, so much so that he nearly choked on his food. He was worried. He was worried for the safety and comfort of a woman he had only seen glimpses of and had never spoken to. The man's head began to flood with the possibilities of all the terrible things that could happen on such a long journey. First of all, he thought of all the terrible people who had traveled on those big roads like King's Road and River Road. He doubted that anything could have befallen his wife during the day, but if someone truly wanted to, they could easily break into her bedroom at roadside inns or sneak through the camp at night with less than honorable intentions. Secondly, the party had to pass by Stonehedge. The fighting between the Brackens and the Blackwoods was growing more and more frequent and violent. In addition to the possible attacks from his house's ancient enemies, Benji also realized the party would have been riding into the night while it was snowing. He hated the thought of his wife or family- wait… Wife? The pair had not been married yet. Vows had not been spoken. Why could he not seem to shake the urge to call her that? Determined to keep those annoying thoughts and worries from impeding his work for the day, Benjicot stood and rushed from the room, eager to begin the many tasks he had taken on in preparation for the arrival of their guests. However, regardless of the Lord's efforts, he was unable to block out his memories from the young Arryn girl or the multiple times the two almost spoke.    

Three months earlier

The air in Kings Landing was warm. The sun shone bright in the sky, bathing the city in glowing red light. The red stones of the castle made the castle look blood red and stand out even more against the bright blue sky. The hills surrounding the city were green and covered in tall grass and small trees. On the back side of the city-backed ocean, the blue waves shone like diamonds in the warm sun. People were visible all the way from the king's road as it weaved through the hills. Their colorful clothing shone like lights against the stone walls and ground as the Blackwood family walked through the streets. There were countless roadside shops that sprouted up. Everything from fruit to fish to weapons was being sold. In certain stalls like the bakers, lines stretched all the way down the street and around the corner. Men played on street corners as others sat around them playing their instruments. There were two things that stuck out to Benji as he rode through the city with his father and advisors. The first was how many people were around. Somewhere, he had heard that there were a million people packed into the tiny city, and now, riding above it all on his imposing black horse, he believed it. He could hardly move a few feet without being forced to turn and avoid someone. The second thing he noticed about the city was the smell. He could not even begin to describe it. The city reeked of shit and rott. As Benji rode through the city, he was grateful to be on horseback; as the horse waded through the pile of feces covering the ground, Benjicot had to refrain from vomiting from the smell. He resorted to breathing through his mouth all the way to the Red Keep. When the group finally walked through the castle's front gates, he noticed the sheer size of the main courtyard. It could have easily fit one hundred wagons and all their men. 

The yard was just as busy as the streets in the city: soldiers marching to their respective posts, maids carrying loads of laundry of baskets of bread to and from, wagons full of meat and produce being wheeled in where they were later delivered to the kitchens. As Benjicot observed everything happening around him, a messenger came through the large double doors at the end of the yard. 

“Greeting my Lords,” the man began as he addressed Benjcot and Lord Samwell. “Allow me to show you to your quarters, where you will be staying for your time here in Kings Landing.” 

As the men followed the squire, Benjicot remained silent, completely entranced by everything new that was happening around him as he was led through the halls of the Red Keep. Targaryen banners and emblems decorated the walls and corridors as Lords and Ladies of the court hustled around in preparation for the upcoming coronation in two days' time. The young Lord had managed to block out the squire's constant yammering as the three men finally arrived at the guest apartments in the castle. 

“And we look forward to seeing you at the feast tonight. Her Grace looks forward to greeting all of her closest allies.”

The man scurried off once more, leaving the father and his son standing before the large wooden doors. Two blackwood nights that had followed them from the courtyard took their posts just outside the doors. The two men entered the room, and the only word that came to Benjicots head was ‘lavish.’ The front door opened to a large sitting room with plush chairs, tables, and a large fireplace. The entire back wall was open and led out to a vast shaded terrace. Benjicots room was through a door to the right of the entrance, just as lavish as the main sitting room, and another entrance to the terrace that looked down over the entry courtyard and out over the city. 

Later, after the two men had enjoyed their lunch and explored the castle, Benjicot found himself back in his chambers. He sat at the large desk, reviewing some paperwork he had pushed off till this ‘vacation.’ After an hour of working his chambers, he heard a commotion in the courtyard out below his rooms. Curiosity got the better of him as he ventured just outside his rooms to investigate. As he looked down, he realized he was too far above the party to see any faces or hear any of the conversation, but he recognized the house that had arrived. The Arryns had arrived with a small party. From his perch high above the yard, Benji could make out three men, excluding the soldiers, and finally, a single woman. She was clearly dressed in blue, with the sun reflecting off her long hair. Benjicot decided to seek out the young woman that night at the feast. Something about the woman seemed to draw him in, even from hundreds of feet above the yard. 

The feast was already well underway when Benjicot and the Blackwoods entered the great hall. Large tables lined the sides of the hall, and maids carried baskets of food and pitchers of wine to all the guests. The group made their way to the large table at the end of the room, where the royal family sat. The eleven main members of the family all sat looking out over the feast, with Queen Rhaenyra sitting directly in the middle, to her right, her husband Daemon, and to her left, her firstborn son, Jacaerys. The Blackwoods moved forward to pay their respects and greet their hosts. Rhaenyra and her family greeted the Blackwoods with extensive graciousness. Just after Lord Samwell and his party claimed their seats, the great hall doors opened as House Arryn's entrance was announced. Lord Robert led his party through the hall to greet the Targaeryens. Two young men walked to his left, and on Benjicot's side in the room, the young woman he had seen earlier walked next to Lord Robert. Shit. She is Lillian Arryn, daughter of Lord Robert Arryn of the Vale. He is notoriously protective of his family and more than reluctant to allow anyone besides direct family close to his daughter. 

Today

Benjicot had just returned to his chambers after two grueling hours of training in addition to the scouts he had to attend to and patrol duty. The young lord had washed the day's work from his skin and was beginning to change into his formal clothes in preparation for the feast that very night. He found himself sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. He decided that a certain amount of mental preparation was necessary for what was about to happen. His life was about to change juristically, and the young man desperately needed a little peace and quiet. He was able to escape the loud hustle and bustle of the castle around him, but he was unable to escape his grumbling stomach and rapidly beating heart. With a sharp knock at his door, he was summoned to the courtyard to await the arrival of the Arryns. 

When Benjicot arrived in the courtyard, his father and most of the closest men in his father's council and staff had gathered in the yard. As the young man went to stand beside his father, the older man turned to look at his son. A mutual understanding passed between the two men; this was necessary, duty, and safety for the family and the house. With that, the first house rode through the gate. 

Lord Arryn and his two sons arrived first. All were tall, blonde, and dressed from head to toe in blue. The perfect vision of pride in their house and power, the main power in the East. Lord Robert dismounted his horse and strode over to the family, standing directly in front of Lord Blackwood. He stood above six feet easily, possibly six four or five, taller than Samwell but barely taller than Benjicot. He was strong for his older age, perhaps heavier than he had been in his prime, but still clearly lethal on the battlefield. After an extended stare-off, the two men were joyfully embarrassed. It was nice to see his father so excited and happy. The old man seemed so lonely most of the time, with no close friends left in the castle, and his mother had long since gone. It had been nearly twenty years since her death. The sickness that took her nearly took Benjicot as well. Regardless, the young man was grateful to see his father laughing again. 

Just then, Robert turned to him. His gaze was scutinizing. Benjicot did well hiding his feelings behind his eyes, but under Lord Arryns hard eyes, he could feel the mask slipping. Just as he was about to crack and break eye contact, the man smiled. He raised his hand for Benjicot to shake and greeted the young Lord, approval shining in his eyes. He called the two younger Arryn Lords over to meet the new family. The older one was less liberal with his approval. His handshake was hard, his eyes even more so. 

Just then, the wheelhouse rolled into the courtyard. It was nearly ten feet long and six feet wide. It is a hard place to spend two weeks in. He felt guilty for making his wife travel in such conditions. There it was again. Wife. Why can’t he stop this habit? It wouldn't be too long until he let the word slip out before it was considered proper. As one of the guards dismounted and walked to the door, steps in hand, he felt the pit in his stomach sink a little deeper. A brown-haired woman appeared first. She was dressed in a pretty dress, not highborn but clearly well-loved in their court. She stepped to the side, waiting patiently for her Lady to emerge from the wheelhouse. Benjicot felt his heart stop. Lillian looked more beautiful than anything or anyone he had ever seen. The light from the sun reflected off her hair just like it had the first time he saw her. The wind blew a loose strand into her face, and as she brushed it away, she reached her free hand down and took the guard's outstretched hand. She smiled in gratitude, and Benjicot felt his heart start up again. That smile lit up the yard. The man felt his soul warm at just a simple glimpse of the young woman. He had to concentrate to keep his maks up, his eyes indifferent, and his expression blank. He noticed the woman refused to look up as well. Lillian kept her eyes trained on the ground beneath her, refusing to look at her Father or new family. Her own version of a mask. As she approached Benjicot and the rest of the family, her eyes still remained on the ground. She was wearing a long-sleeved blue dress to protect her skin from the cold, yet Benjicot still thought it was much too thin to wear in winter. She stood before Lord Samwell and greeted his father. Her voice was small, clearly showing her anxiety. Samwell and she exchanged greetings; she had a warm smile, but her eyes showed her true feelings. 

Lord Blackwood turned to his son, placing his hand on Benjicots back. “I would like to introduce you to my son, Benjicot Blackwood.”

Lillian turned to Benjicot, her eyes remaining downcast. All the man could think about was that he wished she would meet his eyes. He wanted to see the color them, desperately. 

“Good morning, my Lord. Thank you for welcoming us into your home.” Lillian stated in a small voice. She dipped into a small curtsy. When she was raised to her full height once more, her eyes finally rose to meet Benjicots. With that, his heart stopped once more. Her eyes were brilliant. He hoped he could spend the rest of his life staring into them. But that would not be proper at this moment. His mask remained solid, perfectly intact. 

Benjicot reached out to take her hand. “It is a pleasure, my Lady,” He said, bringing her hand to his lips and placing soft kisses on her knuckles. 

Lillian blushed. She withdrew her hand quickly, once again looking away. 

With that, Samwell cleared his throat. “I propose we allow our guests to settle into their rooms before we feast. I’m sure they had a long journey and are anxious to freshen up,” Lord Samwell declared. “Robert, walk with me? I will have my master show your sons to their rooms.” Samwell turned to Benjicot. How about you show Lady Arryn to her rooms?” 

Benjicot heard Lillian let out a shuttered breath as she glanced up to his face, “Of course, my Lady?” Benjicot stuck out his arm, allowing her to take his elbow. 

“Thank you,” Lillian mumbled as the two started into the castle. 

The conversation was nonexistent. Benjicot could feel the anxiety radiating from the shorter woman's body. 

As the two weaved through the castle, Benjicot noticed his Lady observing everything new around her. He hoped that she was pleased with what she saw. Her head would snap to every window or any long corridor they passed as the young Lord led her deeper into the castle and up many steps. The pair stopped in front of a large set of double doors, “Here we are, de-.” Benjicot stopped and cleared his throat. Was he about to call her ‘Dearest,’ which is less than an hour of meeting? “Here you are. I do hope it is to your liking.” 

One of the guards stationed outside the doors moved to reveal the chambers inside. 

Lillian stepped inside, Benjicot following her, waiting as she took in the room. A large bed sat in the corner, a closet on the other side with a vanity near it. Large windows covered nearly all of the back wall, and attached were heavy wooden doors with curtains hanging above them. A large rug covered most of the stone floor, and tapestries hung on three of the four walls in the room. 

Lillian turned back to Benjicot with a grateful smile, “Thank you, my Lord, I do love it.” 

Benjicot felt pride swell in his heart. He was grateful that he had made her happy and offered a small comfort in her new home. 

Benjicot cleared his throat once more, “I will take my leave and allow you to rest after your journey.” as he turned to the door, he whipped around, “Would you allow me to escort you to the feast tonight?” he blurted out. 

“Yes,” Lillian stated, “I would like that very much.” the woman confirmed. “As long as it is not too far out of your way?” she hurried out.

Benjicot quickly shook his head. “Not at all, my Lady. I am just down the hall.” As he turned to leave, he said, “I will see you at seven, my dear.” 

With that, Benjicot left his wife in her room and retreated to his own chambers.

Oh my god, this took so long, my bad guys. It's monsoon season where I live, so the wifi has been out for like a week. Also, it got so hard for me to figure out how to write Benji, but I have a pretty good idea of where I am going to take this.

Same dress and hair as last time; the picture above is Benjis fit.

[problematicraccoon]

I WANNA TALK ABOUT MY SKZ DR AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

heres a lore dump

MKAY so in this reality im gonna be in a polycule situation with the entirety of stray kids (shut up i know im an interdimentional whore), but hwen i first shift there, we're still just friends.

some details about me in that dr is that my name is Alyssa Kolanko, im 23, im in a dance crew thats world renowned with Emmy (the youtuber) Beomhan (our boi) Ryan (hellyxryan) and Ravon (also youtuber), we're all best friends (ive been besties with Ravon since we were teenagers growing up together in ohio, then we both moved to Georgetown, Washington for college and to join the dance crew Ultraviolet)

dance crews are treated like kpop groups are in my cr. we're signed to entertainment companies' dance group divisions, have fanchants, fandoms, light sticks, stadium tours, music videos (where we do dance covers of songs and have cool visuals to go with it). if you guys have any ideas as to what our fandom name should be, i'd appreciate it, i cant come up with jack shit lmao.

i lived with Ravon in a cool loft apartment in Georgetown for four years, ever since we moved when we were 19, and now that we're 23, he's decided he wants to live with his boyfriend of two years, Carter (also youtuber from my cr), and i offered to move out so they could have the loft.

i've known the boys of SKZ since i was 21 and they came to see us perform at a dance festival (a type of concert where a bunch of dance crews come and perform at a stadium or concert hall)

as i've been a youtuber since i was like 15 in this reality, i grew a large following and the guys (skz) have been watching my videos since the beginning.

we quickly become friends after we meet, and become very close over the next few years. they fall head over heels in love with me lmao. i love living in fanfiction. ANYWAY.

now that Ravon and Carter are moving in together, i needed to find somewhere else to live. i expressed to the guys in our gc that i wasnt looking forward to living alone, as i love to live with my friends, and they suggested i move in with them since they're just getting ready to have a house built for them. i agree, and we all work together to build our dream house.

when i spawn in, it'll be the day before i fully move into the house with the guys. my besties (the members of UV) all come to me and Ravon's loft to spend the night and help me pack. then, the following day, the guys come and help pile my stuff into our cars and we head off to our house, where (since its totally empty) we'll lay out blankets and pillows in the unfurnished living room to have a big sleepover until we can get our bedrooms sorted out. i am very scared of living with eight other people btw T0T and it's stray kids for christ sake???? its gonna be so fucking LOUD

OH OH AND I HAVE A CAT. SHES AN ORANGE TABBY AND SHES VERY SWEET AND STUPID AND RUNS INTO WALLS AND HER NAME IS MINKA. SHES 2 AND I ADOPTED HER WHEN SHE WAS JUST A KITTEN <3 minho is absolutely OBSESSED with her

and im besties with Brittany Broski because i adore her she is everything to me i would lay down my life for her

and as for my backstory; very tragic, kinda personal, wont share much about that. but all that you need to know is that my parents were shitty, and my aunt Isla (the same one from my better childhood dr, face claim Daphne Zuniga) saved me and my younger brother Eric (eric lloyd) and took us to Ohio from Poland to raise us when i was 13. she also has a son, who's technically my cousin, but i consider him my big brother and he considers me and eric his little siblings. his name is brandon, and his face/personality claim is Brandon Farris (hes a HILARIOUS youtuber, highly recommend him)

so yeah- theres alot more lore in this dr, its definitely my most detailed one, so i might make another post explaining more lmao.

[kamisama1kiss]

Thank you so much for responding! Would you be okay with writing a male reader x Marc?

Perhaps male reader could be a punk and sings in a band, and he ofc drags Marc to his shows. (If you don’t know what punk shows are like feel free to message me)

Thank you so so much!

First id like to apologise if its not that well written (😭🙏) and also slow updates, had tests all week and finally had a couple days off to write this request. Also my first time writing a male × character and it was fun trying :D🫶 Enjoyy!

~~~

Words: 430 ish

Marc Anciel { Ecstatic Punk }

"Come on, it's this evening." He said with a smile on his lips, crossed arms. Being the main singer has its perks to say the least. Leaning forwards with a tiny head tilt, having burst Marc's personal bubble.

"Please?" A boyish grin appering. "Really? (Name)." The boy with black ravon hair only raised a brow, tightening the hold of his precius notepad. "Crowds and loud places aren't exactly for... me" shaking his head in disagrement.

"Maybe so, but just one song." He suggested with a thinking face, almost as if a bulb light up above his head. "How about that?" He leaned back, resting a hand on his hip wishing for a positive answer from the rather anxious boy

Rolling his eyes, raising a hand in defence. "One song.. but that's it." Finally giving in to his boyfriend constant begging to joining, even if it wasn't anything in his peticulare taste. But rather would want to please his boyfriend and agreeing.

The boy gleemed with utter joy, patting his boyfriends shoulder with a peck on his cheek. "Great, I look forwards to seeing you in the crowd cheering for me." Saying with pure excitment as he heading off, just missing Marc's soft red cheeks.

~~~

There he stood, microphone in hand, hair a mess. Eyeshadow mushed from having sung song and danced around stage for about Maybe 40 minutes? Lost count a while ago yet no sight of his writer boyfriend. Feeling his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach, motivation following suit along.

Swinging around the cord attached to the microphone, finally seeing a ravon blocked haired boy nudging through the crowd to close to the front. The smile on his face only grew as they're eyes meet, singing with his focus only on the one he truly wished to see.

Emerald green eyes that shine with admiration and adorning of seeing his partner, frozen as a statue as he mentally filmed this moment. Wondering why he hadn't agreed to earlier on, having forgotten everyone else.

Pushing through with a raspy voice, occasunally growling alongside small voice cracking but it only added to the touch, if he was honest.

"Come everyone, bring up the volume!" He shouted into the microphone pointing to the audience, falling to his knees and leaning back with a roar of a singing voice. Sweat trickeling down his neck and forehead.

Pushing up to make eye contact with Marc, sending a wink his direction as his smiled stayed visible the whole time. Being in his own teratori fully. Only leaving him with a bashfull expression, both hearts punding to the speed of the melody unknowingly in sync. Both beating for the other.

[kaito-2182]

Intro bc uh these are the things jm going to psot most offtn snd it makes sense maybe? Idk atp!!

You can call me kaito, rin, tommy(tom or thomas), xylia, axel and michelle!

I’ll post gacha characters, thinfs i personaly find Funny and uh yeah stuff like that i guess?

Im not in alot of fandoms but im in BATIM, FNAF, uh idk more? Idk i can’t remember alot!

Youtubers i like are the boys, sturnolio triplets (forgive me if i spelt that wrong), sam and colby, larry, ravon, tara yummy, but mainly the boys bc comfort! 👍🏼

Im goth i like cats more then dogs but my favorite animal is a bear! :P

I use the face emoji things alot but mainly :] :3 :) and :P (sometiems i put > over it)

Im a furrh my fursona is a tiger named axel and a moth named ravon :]

Idk what else to out here but i like neon ornage, bears, minecraft, gacha life/club/ gscha life 2 and more :P

Im bisexual, demisexual, and genderlfuid :3

Thats about it my next post will most likely be a gahca character or my crappy art!! And i will NOT cuss in my posts :>

[iamravone]

My Week in Graphite: Seven Postcard Portraits

Last week was a whirlwind of creativity for me. I immersed myself in the world of graphite, drawing seven 4 x 6 inch postcard portraits. The process was incredibly fulfilling, and I wanted to share a bit about what I created and how much I enjoyed the experience.

Each portrait was a unique journey. I drew a variety of subjects, from an influential figure whose work has inspired me, to an actress whose expressions I find captivating. I also captured the likenesses of people I know, which added a personal touch to my work. One of my favorites was a devotional being, where I tried to convey a sense of peace and spirituality through the intricate details and soft shading.

Perhaps the most challenging and rewarding piece was an original portrait of a woman intertwined with flowers. This drawing was a blend of realism and imagination, and I loved how the floral elements complemented the serene expression on her face. It was a dance of light and shadow, with the delicate petals and the contours of her features merging harmoniously.

Creating these postcards was a meditative process. Each stroke of the pencil allowed me to connect deeply with my subjects, bringing out their essence on a small but expressive canvas. The compact size of the postcards made the details even more significant, pushing me to refine my technique and pay close attention to every line and shade.

Reflecting on this week, I'm reminded of why I love working with graphite. It's not just about creating images; it's about capturing moments and emotions, and translating them into something tangible. Each postcard is a piece of my journey as an artist, and I look forward to creating many more.

Stay tuned for more of my artistic adventures!

Ramesh (Ravone)

[harryhookwriter-blog]

HIS TOY

Harry hook X Carlos.

HIS TOY

Summary: Reader was sent to Auradon with Mal, Jay and Evie, but not with her brother Carlos. She got sent back. And is greeted by a creepy Harry and horrible news.

WARNINGS: Bad language, metions of abuse and rape. Self harm. Weirdo Harlan Hook. Also, i wrote that Cruella had dementia an died of it. Please dont get offended by this and I'm almost certain it's not correct.

WORD COUNT: 2104

____________________________________

So, I'm just back from Boradon and I went straight to Uma, Harry and Gil. They're my family. They matter more than my mother. Old Hag. Anyways, let the story begin....

I went straight to the Chip Shop. I wanted to see them, I guess I just missed them so much I couldn't help it. I only lasted six months in Boredon. I, unlike the others, never changed my style or attitude. Those weak ass excuses of Villain Kids.

I arrived at the shop, with a grin on my face. I kicked open the saloon style doors and deadpanned "I'm baaack." "Y/N!!! YOUR BACK!!" Shouted Uma, eyes wide with delight. "We've missed you soooo much." Exclaimed Gil as he pulled me into a bone crushing hug. Uma followed his lead and hugged me like if she let go I'd melt. I gladly hugged the two back. "I guess you can take the girl out of the Isle but not the Isle out of the girl." "Damn right. I got my ass back here after trying to break the barrier down. I am so mainstream." I replied, over the moon to have the two back. "Hang on, where's Harry?" I asked, slightly concerned. "Playing with his toy." Smirked Uma. "Well, I'll see him later then." I thought aloud. "Everyone saw you turn Maleficant into a lizard. People are really intimidated by you now. Your one of the most feared people here." Uma explained, and she seemed really impressed. "As if I never intimidated people." I smirked, "Well, see you guys later, I've got my stuff to put back on the ship." I waved the two goodbye. I was happy to get my old life back.

*TIME SKIP TO ON THE SHIP*

I walked onto the ship to find Harry with his hands all over some poor boy. They were facing away from the door so I snuck along the wall into my room that I shared with Harry. I quietly packed my stuff away, scribbled a note that I left in my bed saying it was me and not some stranger who put their shit away if harry came in. The place hadn't changed. I went out the back way, away from Harry and whoever that poor dude was. You know, I really don't like Harry having boy toys. It's weird to force someone to get down, if you get me, but that's just my opinion. I strolled down the streets of the Isle, occasionally stealing a hat or scarf that I liked. It's the good life.

I got back to the shop, and Harry was there. "Lass! Your back!" Shouted Harry, happy I was back. He pulled me into a bone crunching hug. My ribs really hurt today. I hugged him back and said "How've you been? It's been a while." "Fine Lass just fine, and you?" "As good as I could be in Boredon." I laughed. It's been a while since I laughed. "Hey Uma? Have you guys replaced me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We knew you'd be back. But when can you pick up training?"

"Whenever"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah sure, I can't believe I'm back". I replied with a smile. "But I think I'll go check in on my brother, we all know hes kind of fragile. See you guys in a few hours." And I waved them goodbye. Uma and Harry were smirking at eachother, but I ignored that and left.

*IN THE DE VIL HOUSE HOLD* *TIME SKIP*

I walked into my room in our house, it hasn't really changed. More dust and less valuables. I expected nothing less. I lay on my hammock and felt even better that I was back on the Isle. I haven't heard or seen my mother, but thats a good thing really.

I was almost drifting off to sleep when I heard a sob. I know that cry very well, for it was my brother's. I jumped up and ran towards the sound. He was always kind of soft, so I always looked after him.

I found Carlos in his room, bawling his eyes out in the corner with a knife in his hand.

"Carlos!" I exclaimed gently, not wanting to frighten him. I imidiatly hurried over to my brother to console him. I wrapped my arms around him, whispering "it's okay, I'm here." Over and over again until my little brothers tears turned dry. I made to take the knife out of his hand, but he stabbed himself in the arm. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." I muttered aloud and rushed to my room to get the make shift first aid kit. "Just one second Carlos." I quickly told him and got to work on his arm. I blocked the blood flow, disinfectied the wound and then wrapped his arm. He was crying again. I was certain he was going to be fine now so I looked him in the eye with a sombre expression. I only then I noticed the cuts all over him. "Who did this to you?" I asked him, still being gentle.

"People at school started bullying me after you left. I gave up on trying to defend myself." I was shocked at his statement, but I was upseted most by the disapointment in his voice. Like it was the first time he admitted this to himself. "Can you give me names?" I asked even more gentle than before. "There's a lot of them, but Frank Facilier is the main bully." He still sounded disapointed, but I was livid at Frank. I've never got into any fights or anything with him, so at least Carlos wasn't suffering on my behalf. "Okay thank you. Now, please, tell me how you feel?" "Terrible to be honest. My head hurts, I'm tired, I'm emotionally exhausted and I'm starving." "I can deal with the fact your hungry at the minute, come on, I'll get food for us." I told him, smiling gently, an offering my hand to help him up. "Yeah, let's go."

I left that house with my brother, and we made to go to "Ursulas Fish n chips." I don't think he's been there before, so it seemed like a good idea. I had my arm around my brother's shoulders, as if to say "mess with him you mess with me." So no one even looked at us.

We arrived at the shop Carlos looked nervous. Probably about the whole pirates thing. I smiled at him and we walked in. The place went quiet and stared at us. "What? Haven't seen a De Vil before?" I barked and they all quickly started their conversations again. We strolled over to a booth and sat down. "So what are you getting?" I asked casually, trying to decide on which fish was fresher. "Y/N, I don't like it here." Carlos said nervously. "Don't worry, I'm in charge of these people, they won't lay a finger on you." I tried to relax him, but it didn't work. He just looked confused "Look Carlos, I never told you, but I'm a part of Umas crew, im her left hand and best friend. I never told you incase mother found out. Speaking of Mother, where and how is she?" I asked him, wanting to start a conversation. "Mother... She died. Of her dementia. A month after the parent day video chat. She passed, and her coffin is in the elephant graveyard, I think. I found out from Jafar. I ran away after seeing you guys on the screen. I moved back in before people could trash the house, sometimes EQ and Jafar visit, but only to tell me to do stuff for them. I'm glad your back, it's been.... Horrible. I'm glad you chose evil, if you know what I mean." Carlos spoke his mind, he looked like the world was lifted off his shoulders, but he still had the moon to carry. I was about to ask what else was on his mind when Uma came up to our booth and asked,

"So left hand mate, what will it be?"

"Can I have the salmon?" I asked, somewhat trying my luck.

"Your lucky we're friends, and you?" Uma threatened and then asked.

"Erm, what ever Y/Ns having?" Carlos almost asked himself. He seemed very nervous to be near Uma.

"Only because your related" she snarked, then smirked.

"Oh, I'm not bothered, Gil can make it. GIL!! MAKE TWO SALMONS FOR THE DE VILS!!" Uma shouted, and then said "Well, im off on my break, see you later Y/N." And with that she left.

"So, anything else interesting happen when I was gone?" I asked,trying to ease the tension.

"Nothing really, just what I've mentioned so far."

Carlos was clearly lieing, I can read him like a book.

So I asked him,

"Are you sure Carlos? You seem to want to tell me more. "

"No, I'm fine, I'm just kinda on edge. I don't really like it here."

He was nervous and figity, I didn't like it. Just then Harry served us our food, and Carlos became even more figity. My brother was hesitant to eat the food at first, probably incase it was poisoned I guessed, so I ate some of his and proved it was fine. We ate ravonously, I could tell Carlos hadn't eaten in a while. We finished our food, which was really good, even to Auradon stardards. ( Note to self: Hire Gil as personal chef) So I thanked Gil, and waved goodbye to my friends. After I said my goodbyes, my brother and I headed off for home, even if it wasn't very homely.

We arrived at our house and I said, "Well, I'll get you some water, and we can sleep." "Y/N WAIT!" Carlos shouted, clearly panicked. I drew my sword from my sheath and shouted "WHAT? WHO DO I HAVE TO KILL?" "No one, I just wanted to know if I could sleep in your room, I'd feel safer." Carlos replied sheepishly. I usually built up walls between people, bit Carlos breaks my heart. "Of course you can, do you want to sleep here or on the ship? The ship is safer." I answered/asked. "Maybe the ship" He said. "You should have some water, I'll get the spare hammocks, first aid kit and spare swords and we'll go." I told him with a smile. He sat down on a comfy chair, and I got him a drink. I collected my things and we were ready to go. "Hang on" I said. " You need a weapon." I ran back to my room and got a spare sword and scabbard. I gave them to Carlos and he asked "why do I need this? I don't know how to sword fight." "Intimidation, really and also, I'm training recruits tomorrow for Uma, wanna join the class? It'd be good to learn how to fight." "Yeah, that seems like a good idea." He said as he put on his scabbard. "I'm intimidated, now let's go."

We arrived at the ship and I ran into Harry going to the room, I noticed that Carlos went extremely rigid when he met pirates, but he was worse around Harry. "Har! Are you in our room tonight?" I shouted across the deck. "No Lass, I'm on the Nightshift." He replied, threw a wink at Carlos of all people and walked off to Ursulas. "Well, the room is ours tonight, but I wouldn't sleep in Harry's bed anyhow, too many people have slept in there, if you know what I mean." I told Carlos. I didn't expect him to reply with what he did. "I know I have." He muttered just loud enough for me to hear. "WHAT?" I shouted out of shock. "I'll talk about it later Y/N please?" "Fine, but I want answers." I replied.

We were walking to the living quarters below deck, we met Uma. "Uma, can Carlos sleep on the ship tonight?" I asked the captain. "Go ahead, Harry has plenty of overnight guests." Uma said with a wink, but we overlooked this. "Thanks Uma" Carlos and I walked off to mine and Harry's cabin.

A/N All done!!!! Part 2 will be out soon, but it'll be dark, btw. Forms of rape and abuse are mentioned, so be warned if you want to read more!

[reddirtgirl95]

Get to know me better:

Rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better

Tagged by: @sunflowersandbeer

I’ll tag: Anyone who hasn’t done this. I’m tagging, @coloradoqueen @red-white-booze @coloradoboss @greesefishing @texas-countrylife @red-faced-wolf @midwestern-darling @rabbitsavestheworld @bigbuttandlifted-upfordtrucks

1. Nicknames: Ravon, Raven Cmonster, Ray-Ray, and several others I can’t think of at the moment

2. Gender: Female

3. Star sign: Taurus

4. Height: 5'6”

5. Time: 22:59

6. Birthday: April 27th 1995

7. Favorite bands: wayyy to many.. randy roger band, Casey donahew band, flatland calavery, AC/DC, turnpike troubadours..

8. Favorite solo artist: Aaron Watson, Koe Wetzel, Parker McCollum, Johnny Cash, Merle haggard, Eric Church, Cameron Nelson, Randall King. That’s just a few

9. Song stuck in my head: I’m Done by Koe Wetzel

10. Last movie you watched: honestly I don’t remember...

11. Last show watched: 9-1-1 or greys anatomy

12. When did I create my blog? Last April.

13. What do I post: whatever I feel like

14. Last thing I googled: tactical boots.. I needed a pair for my new job 😅

15. Do you have other blogs? No I don’t

16. Do you get asks? Not very often

17. Why did you choose your url? Because as much as I want to move north, Oklahoma will always be a part of me and the red dirt flows through my veins.

18. Following blogs: 1,206

19. Followers: 974

20. Favorite colors: blue, crimson, hill green, and gray.

21. Average hours of sleep: Not nearly enough

22. Lucky number: 7 and 3.

23. Instruments: none, which is sad because it’s in my blood and I’m the only one out of 4 kids that can’t play an instrument

24. What am I wearing? Tshirt, little shorts, and socks.

25. How many blankets I sleep with: right now? I have 5...

26. Dream job: game warden or maybe even a paramedic 🤷🏻‍♀️ I can’t decide

27. Dream trip: anywhere in the Rockies

28. Favorite food: Mac and cheese, pasta, almost any fried foods, mozzarella sticks, any smoked meats, and hamburgers

29. Nationality: American, German, Indian, and I don’t know what else.

30. Favorite song now: Austin by Koe Wetzel

[nightmaretheif]

Birthday gift 1 of two for The Slender Doll

Collection of a few of her ocs: Soothsayer // Owlet // Ravon // Rikki Tikki // High Voltage // Ally // Broken // Hearted Doll // Doll Face

Ocs © @the-slender-doll

[wordydelights]

first chapter of the first book i ever tried to write

When Galaxies Collide

11:39 AM, November 29th

As I tapped my no. 2 against the side of my desk, I could tell others around me were becoming annoyed. But, that didn't seem to bother me much. The ticking of each second passing by echoed throughout my eardrums. The day was going slower than normal.

It was torture.

I'd usually be scribbling something on the corner of my notebook by now, but the inspiration I needed wasn't present at the moment. I was just waiting for it to walk through the door.

11:43 AM

The classrooms' temperature caused my hands to numb and drift asleep.The dull environment, dry with boredom, painted the students' faces with clear disinterest. Blank sheets of paper sat on each desk, patiently awaiting to be written on, alas no one could find the strength to lift their fingers.

The teachers here refer to us as a lazy generation, concluding we only spend our time watching 'screens' all day and don't know how to socialize, on account of being caught up in our make-believe worlds. They also believe that the public school system is a well established institute for education...and our school's sports teams don't suck. So who's the real loser?

My yawning began to fog the glasses now resting on the tip of my nose. I gently removed the specs, carefully wiping them off with the knit sleeve of my sweater. I'd occasionally wear contacts but I was usually too lazy to deal with carefully shoving plastic underneath my eyelids.

I had sat in the back of the classroom, three rows to the left, giving me a perfect view of my fellow peers, the white board and the lovely scenery of the school's totally non-crappy parking lot, outside the window.

A faint sound began to tickle my ears. As it grew louder I was able to make out my name. Don't worry, I thought. Hearing your name being called is the sign of a healthy mind. Either that or I was becoming schizophrenic. But, unfortunately this wasn't a figment of my imagination, let alone a psychotic voice in my head.

"Jackson."

I snapped my head up towards the front of the classroom, like being resurrected with a sudden jolt. My eyes met the shiny forehead, wrinkled with distress of The Professor. He was a World History teacher at Oakwood High. No one seemed to refer to him by his real name, honestly, I think most of us had forgotten it.

The Professor had always made a huge deal about universities, how hard it is to get in and statistically most of us will end up at a dead-end community college with a degree in flipping burnt burgers. To make matters worse, he constantly bragged about his past employment at Harvard.

The big question he hadn't answered however was 'how he got from Harvard to a low budget public school in Forest Grove, Oregon.' Bigger question, 'how he was removed from Harvard's distinguished faculty?.'

Never once did he object to this sarcastic nickname which was used to describe his unhealthy obsession. As a matter-of-fact he took pride in it. Probably because it reminded him of the times he once had a bigger paycheck, respectful students and a school with an IQ average larger than 60. Or partly because he was an arrogant asshole, who enjoys dwelling on the past.

"Daydreaming again, I see," he said expressionless. His specialty.

"No s-s-ir," my voice cracked.

I heard snickers from multiple students around the room.

Damn you puberty.

"I was just looking for a bit of inspiration."

"Inspiration," he smirked. "How is that related to the lesson?"

My eyes darted across the whiteboard, searching for the title of today's topic, written in it's general bold letters.

The Age of Enlightenment.

"Well sir, during the Enlightenment period, inspiration was what all people were searching for."

"And have you found any inspiration?"

"Not yet, it hasn't seemed to arrive."

He squinted his eyes as if trying to read to me. Scanning my body language, then absorbing the information obtained. I knew I was about to be asked to explain to the class something complex, that I obviously don't know about the Enlightenment. It was his typical routine for making me look like an idiot, not like he had to try.

11:47 AM

As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the words on the tip of his tongue, the door swung open. Inspiration had arrived.

"Hi sorry...you would not believe the hallway traffic."

She was on her usual time. Not too late to be counted absent, but late enough to piss of The Professor.

"Pass?" The tone in his voice was dripping with frustration.

She walked up with a certain confidence in her stride. Not the prideful, vain kind. The bold kind. Too bold. So bold it was a cover up for something dark lying within.

She pushed the hair out of her face, and flashed a smile, a fake, phony, I-hate-you smile, proceeding to hand over a crumpled up hall pass.

The Professor snatched the piece of paper out of her hand, quickly analyzed it and sighed,

"Just go sit down."

"Gladly," she'd snap back without missing a beat.

I watched as she made her way to her desk dropping the bag to the floor and whipping her classic black and white chucks up onto the empty seat in front of her, then continued to twist the stained silver ring on her finger.

Some days were better than others. She never truly disrupted class. She just threw on a show whenever she came in.

Never once did she acknowledge my presence this entire year. I doubt she even vaguely remembered me.

She had changed so much since the four-foot-three Serene Easton from elementary school.

No longer did she wear that burgundy ribbon in her hair, candy bracelets or fuzzy scrunchies on her wrists. She moved away one summer just as we were about to start the seventh grade. I don't know where or why, but I do know I bawled my eyes out for a month straight.

I just couldn't bare the thought of her not being there for me when I needed her most. I don't even really remember much of the time we spent together. It was mostly Halo dragging me along her wild goose chases, getting busted with Halo for tagging along those wild goose chases, and brief moments with Noel during those wild goose chases, probably only lasting half a second, that had been sown in my being.

I told her to write. She didn't. I told her to call. No calls received. I told her to send a damn email. No emails sent.

Her response to each of my requests was a half smile, followed by a nod and sincere look in her eyes. I was like a puppy being left at the local Humane Society, thinking, surely their owner will be back for them.

But, they never were.

Oddly enough, my parents thought it was good, healthy even, that the only friend I had was leaving. My mother was afraid I would become too dependent on Halo if our friendship sustained. And I'm fairly certain my father was becoming worried about my sexuality.

Being a young boy, who wasn't quite as athletically gifted as others and only able to maintain one friend who happened to be female, caused him to raise some suspicions. Also, my incriminating actions might have come into play. Such as, not being able to change in front of other boys or perhaps stumbling upon gay porn on their computer, but I swear, it was already there when I went to use the laptop.

Nevertheless, my family supported me through thick and thin, but at the same time, had awkward conversations about how they accept me for who I am and will always love me not matter what.

Despite my parents' 'words of wisdom,' I will never forget Halo's last words she said to me before she left.

"The story continues."

She said it cryptically, like it was my job to decode the message behind it. The mystery bouncing within the light of her eyes.

Halo had never found pleasure in saying goodbyes, as a result she would say things like 'see ya later' or 'until next time.' In her own words; goodbye is too permanent. But, this time, this saying was different. What did she mean by 'the story continues'? What was the story? Was it her life? Was I just a mere chapter or an adventure to move on from? Or was the story both of us? How we have future journeys lying ahead, just waiting to be ventured upon. Maybe her moving away was just an example of the plot thickening.

I might never realize what she truly meant, however, it gives me hope.

Lunch at Oakwood was pretty much what you would expect for your customary high school. Freshman sitting with freshman, sophomores with sophomores...yeah, you get the gist. Girls on one side, guys on the other, then a couple of mixed tables scattered across the sea of pubescent bodies.

It's a small school. Our last graduating class contained about 136 students. Out of a total population of 584.

Everyone had a place and if you didn't it's because you chose not to have one. That was just my theory at least. I'd always been that shy, quiet guy.

I had become a master of blending in, being overlooked by almost everyone was my speciality.

"Jackson, mah brotha from anotha motha!" Ravon announced as he approached the table. His feign, early 2000's, ghetto slang caused me to cringe. The buttons on the back pockets of his acid wash jeans scraped against the seat next to Aditi, as he began to sit down, creating a group of three. He advanced to unraveling his brown, paper, lunch bag, revealing his masterpiece of a PB&J.

"Hey," he pointed. "Check out that spicy chocolate mama."

Ravon drew Aditi and I's attention over towards Jasmine Baker, senior class president. We watched as she made her way over to her pretentious, intellectually gifted friends. Her hips swayed with each step followed by the sound of her high heeled boots clicking against the marble floor.

"Bow-chicka-wow-wow," Aditi exclaimed.

His thick Indian accent made it hard not to burst into laughter. I snorted.

Aditi was a foreign exchange student from India. He didn't know much English, so he would say words completely irrelevant to the topic, however, I was surprised to hear how much he had improved.

"M-m-mmm," Ravon drooled. "That's one stone cold fox."

I awkwardly shrugged, picking at the glutinous macaroni and cheese, now glued to the paper tray.

"Aw, hell nah."

Ravon stared at me with an almost how-dare-you expression slapped across his face.

"What?" I asked.

He moved closer to my face. So close, I could smell the potent peanut butter aroma permeating the air from his mouth."Did you just diss the chocolate mamas?"

"No, I just don't find Jasmine very appealing."

Which was true. I didn't find girls who covered up their insecurities with false confidence very attractive. Girls who lived for themselves instead were more my type.

I finally looked from my pathetic excuse for a meal and up at Ravon. His dark skin in piercing contrast with his coral polo shirt. He blinked twice. I couldn't tell if he was about explode into a full-fledged rant about how dissing the 'chocolate mamas' was like sucker punching his future love child Tyron. And nobody touches little Tyron. Or laugh it off, pat my back and put this insignificant feud behind us.

Ravon was an interesting character. For example, using words which were televised in the late 90's and dressing in similar fashion to a cast member from a Fresh Prince rerun.

The tension in the air was becoming too thick to breathe. Luckily Aditi broke the ice.

"Bay-gull," He exclaimed in his way of saying the word bagel. At least, so we think..

"Yes, Aditi," Ravon hesitated. "Bagel indeed."

There was something uneasy about the way he spoke, nonetheless, I disregarded it..

Out of the corner of my eye, I captured a glimpse of Halo eagerly walking towards the outdoor lunch patio. I guess I made it obvious as to what I was staring at, because I received unnecessary commentary to my vision.

"Hellooo," Ravon flirtatiously said, lifting both of his eyebrows. "Vanilla mama."

"You're obsession with comparing women to pieces of candy is becoming disturbing," I mumbled while burying my face into my palms. Through the cracks of my fingers, I spotted the back of Halo vanishing behind the corner of school, racing to the usual spot where her group of 'juvenile delinquents' sat. Gone, once again.

I spent the rest of the period listening to Ravon ramble about getting to second-base with a girl waiting in line at the mall. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I saw him there the other day groping a mannequin.

It was relatively easy pretending to pay attention to Ravon. All you had to do was nod and half smile occasionally. He was that type of person who lived in a false reality. Choosing not to believe the fact that the only people he had to speak to included someone who obviously couldn't care less and someone who didn't understand half of what he was saying.

The problem with me was that it became so hard to connect, to feel any emotion whatsoever. It's better when it's just me. My mind and I, we go well together. We agree about everything. It's really all I need. Friends come and go, leading to grief. Why waste all that energy on the expected? So yes, I'm not actually friends with Aditi or Ravon. They just happen to be people in this specific chapter of my life. By the time I'm thirty, I probably won't even remember them. Sad, but true.

I just prefer thinking realistically.

With a hop, skip and jump in my step, I was dumped on the side of the road, attempting to avoid slamming into the bright, red stop sign. I was possibly the only junior at Oakwood who still road the bus to school instead of driving their own 'set of wheels.' The stop was half a mile away from my house, which was far, but not too far to walk home. It happened to be very calm and reflective. I don't know why, but there is something about walking alone that just helps you forget all of the pesky problems in life. Cars passed by me leaving a gust of wind to be remembered by. Puddles were dispersed across the road, which wasn't quite unusual when living in Oregon. The trees were almost bare, only few Amber and ruby colored leaves attached to the claws of their branches. Every now and then I'd see someone I recognize from school, but I don't think I'd look as familiar to them as they do to me.

About a quarter of a mile away from my destination I'd pass a small white house. Its curtains closed, concealing secrets to the curious eye. It looked like your average suburban home. A welcome mat by the front door, wind chimes hanging from over its porch, and a lawn in slight need of a good mow. It definitely did not appear to be the type of home you'd expect Halo Easton to be living in.

I wasn't quite sure if she was home at the moment, there appeared to be no activity coming from within, except for the slight flickering of a light, most likely from a television screen, piercing through the closed blinds. Then again, Halo was the type of person that never seemed to be at home.

By the time I had arrived, my mother was in the front yard hauling what had the appearance of tacky couch from the 70's, from our family pickup truck. One end of the abomination was tilted against the driveway, the other leaning against the tailgate of the vehicle.

"Oh! Jackson, honey, could you come help me with this?"

Sweat poured from the top of her head, as she wiped her face with the white apron she normally used for cleaning.

I made my way over towards the hideous piece of furniture, it's yellowish piss coloring, velvet fabric, with brown and white stripes outlining it's unflattering frame.

"Mom, did you buy this?" I asked while trying to hide my horrified expression.

"No, sweetheart you know me better than that," She paused, catching her breath.

"I found it in of one of our neighbors front yards! Can you believe someone was just giving it away!?"

My mother was a hoarder. As hard as she wanted to admit it, she was. She liked collecting junk, adding to her insatiable collection of stuff she will most likely never use. I guess she thought she would sometime, in the near distant future, fix her junk up or put it to some sort of benefit, unfortunately she never did. So, now we had achieved a garage filled from bicycles missing wheels, to the largest world collection of disfigured beanie babies. Even though she was a bit crazy, I sort of admired her for it in a way. She was able to see a beauty, that no one else did, in the things she found. After all, I had to get my artistic side from somewhere.

"Ok, one, two, three, lift."

The nonexistent muscles I had in my arms, were straining. I was unprepared for the amount of weight I was now lifting. I felt my heart beating twice as fast, almost as if screaming, 'Shouldn't have skipped gym you weak bitch.'

Somehow we managed to tilt the 'couch from hell' rightside up. Mostly because I let it fall to the ground at the last second.

"Good, now help me move it into the garage."

I might've started screaming bloody murder, if my little sister Gracie hadn't opened the front door and shouted, "Daddy's home!"

Slowly, my father's blue minivan rolled up the driveway. Gracie, with a sheet of notebook paper covered with multicolored scribbles in her hands, ran towards the door of the car, excitedly tapping on its window.

My father calmly walked out, but I could tell by his constant glances over towards the new piece of furniture we now owned, which he now had to help move, was ready to burn mother's garage full of trinkets.

"Daddy look." Gracie held up her art, stained with a bit of 100% grape juicy juice.

"Aren't I just as good as Jackson? It's abstract. Just like the one drawing you guys really liked that he did, except mine has color!"

"It's beautiful," my father faintly smiled, but the reassurance in his voice wasn't very prominent.

I smirked at her jealousy of the talents I possessed. She always looked up to her big brother Landon, but he had been away at college for the past few months, so I guess I was her backup plan. However, she didn't hold the same sort of honor she had for me as she had for Landon. It was that 'middle child honor.' The type of honor that truly does look up to you, just doesn't like showing it. The type of honor that likes to bring up embarrassing moments that will haunt you for the rest of your life, steal your towel and clothes while taking a shower and eat the last bite of your favorite cereal.

Luckily, I had my revenge planned. When she really pisses me off I can finally tell her the truth about her unplanned conception.

"How was work dad?" I never usually acted this interested in my father's occupation, mostly because it involved unclogging the shit out of people's toilets, but I was trying to avoid carrying the monstrosity of a sofa to the garage.

"Eh," his common response. He wasn't the most emotional person, especially on days when he was in one of his 'moods.' This was one of those days.

He made his way towards mother, despite her stockpile-syndrome, you could tell he loved her more than life itself.

"Hey hon," he said, softly pecking her on the lips.

It was like her insanity was a part of him that he adored. The part that kept him young, helping him remember their early blossoming romance. They were complete opposites, yet each mirrored the other. Each bringing out the other's character.

As I see it, everything needs it's opposing pair. It wouldn't be whole without it.

What would the moon be without the sun, the light without darkness, bitter without sweet, grief without joy, love without hate? These forces balance each other out. My parents are like that.

My mother smiled, then began, "Hey! Oooo, do you think you could help me move thi-" mother began but was cut off.

"I'm already on it," my father laughed, lifting one side of the couch, clearly exhausted.

I started to walk into the house, the straps of my backpack now chaffing my shoulders. We had lived in this house for about 18 years. Apparently after mom found out she was pregnant once again, they figured it was best to start searching for a place other than the one bedroom condo they were already living in. They found our home thinking it would be a proper family home. Instead, it turned out to be infested with termites, gnawing away at the wooden beams supporting our ceilings. Of course, an exterminator was hired. After that slight bump in the road, a paint job and serious cleaning, it turned out to be the domicile we would spend the rest of our childhood in. All of our precious memories, which we held dear, lied within it's walls.

I raced up the stairway to my room. The house, unlike our garage, was rather neat. My Father and I had always shared a passion for order. I guess I wasn't quite as uptight as he was, although I did become slightly OCD about a backwards roll of toilet paper.

My bedroom was whitewashed with well. . .white. Colorless and bland.

It's not that I was a boring stick-in-the-mud, I just didn't want to ruin the elegance my room pertained. It was like an empty canvas, a blank sheet of paper. Having so much potential. Potential that could easily be destroyed.

My fear was screwing things up.

As an aspiring artist, you might find it odd how I'm exceptionally organized, rather dull and basic. Not all artists have to be these messy slobs, using vibrant colors, seeing things differently than others.

I saw things for the way they were.

I laid my backpack down by the side of my bed, it's zipper clanking against the metal frame. It was time for my daily procrastination. I rolled open the drawer to my drafting table. Its polished wooden frame, still held the freshly cut pine scent, regardless of how old it was. Delicately choosing a pencil from my collection. It needed to be ideal. It's lead not too stubby, so I didn't have to find the energy to choose a new tool, yet not too sharp so it wouldn't break during the process. I tried taking a few short breaths. Attempting to clear my mind.

I liked playing a game with myself. The first thought which popped into my head, I would draw. I counted to four. Not three. Not five. Four. It was the number in between, commonly overlooked as a number to count to.

Just like me.

One....Two....Three...Four.

The gears in my brain started turning, sorting through the files of my mind, seeking for the perfect thought. It scanned through the alphabet.

A...B...C...D....E...STOP!

Yes, E.

The word became clear, its letters floating about.

Emptiness.

Beginning is always the hardest part. It is the foundation for everything. All the work you do from that point on stands upon the structure you created.

The first thing that came to mind when picturing the word was someone hiding behind a mask. Disguising their pain.

I proceeded to sketch a young girl, probably around Gracie's age. Her hair, hiding half her face. Each strand, unkempt, and untamed. She was smiling, yet the crinkles near her eyes told another story. A vacant heart.

A label was printed across her forehead. Numbers, like an ID.

18, 5, 10, 5, 3, 20, 5, 4.

Each number representing a letter. Each letter forming a word. A word that was the root cause of all emptiness. Being rejected.

She could fool anyone who was gullible enough to believe her false sense of contentment. Only those who looked close enough were able to see the agony beneath her facade.

Later that evening, while shading the striking features of the girl's face, darkening her glassy, tear-filled eyes, I was called down for dinner. My creative flow now interrupted, I made my way downstairs. My family each in their traditional seats. We use to have a big fancy dinner table, for guests, but I guess after the first awkward dinner with the Peterson's, and the fact we rarely ever had guests over, we sold it and bought a table much more accustomed to the size of our family. We only had one extra seat, of course in the garage, which was for Landon when he returned from (insert school name here). I plopped into the last available chair, my nose meeting the delicious fragrance of chinese take-out.

Egg rolls, white rice with baby shrimp, teriyaki chicken and those oh-so-sweet stargoons. I guess mom was too lazy to cook tonight. Again.

But, I wasn't complaining.

It was at that moment when I realized just how starving I was. I had forgotten I didn't eat my lunch.

I commenced to quietly dip my egg roll into a small packet of 'duck sauce' or whatever the hell it was and continued to stuff my face with a bite far too large for my mouth.

"So, Jackson, Gracie, you're father and I have some news."

I raised my head, my cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk trying to store his precious supply of nuts. Haha, nuts.

Dad just sat idly by while my mother eagerly took his hand. He seemed clueless. As if he was a random passerby who had just won a lifetime supply of pastries for buying the millionth funnel cake.

"Landon's coming home for the weekend," she exclaimed.

Gracie enthusiastically shrieked like a mating dolphin from the top of her lungs.

"Not inside the house Grace," Dad grimaced.

"Jackson, honey, isn't that great?"

I guess the lack of emotion on my face and the fact I had said not a word might have given the impression I wasn't thrilled to be reuniting with my dear brother, who I had profoundly missed, or was taking his trip home for granted. No, it wasn't either of those things, I was only slightly busy attempting not to choke on the rather sizeable amount of egg roll I had just consumed. The lump in my throat felt as if it was the size of golf ball. The shells' sharp edges slowly slid down my throat.

Amazingly I was able to swallow the choking hazard.

"Yeah mom, that's awesome."

Lately my parents had been acting more attentive towards my needs, assuming I'm depressed or unhappy with my circumstances. I suppose they have noticed my increase in afternoon naps, deadpan smiles and most of my life being spent in my room.

Perhaps they thought bringing Landon back home for a little while, might help recover the 'old Jackson' whose absence had been accounted for.

Yes, I admit it. Landon leaving did make things difficult. But, it was my fault for getting so hung up on the situation. I knew he was leaving. I couldn't help but also feeling slight resentment towards Landon.

He left me. However, Landon wasn't to blame. This was a step he had to take in life. I never expected for him to stay home to tend to his emotional brothers' needs. It just gave me a taste of the truth. Even family will not always be there for you.

Although, I did begin acting unlike my common self around the time when Landon left, he wasn't the only factor that had come into play of my mysterious change in personality. I guess his disappearance was just the gateway to all of the crap I had been storing in my heart for years.

Think of it like Jenga, the more blocks you pile up, the more come tumbling down.

I was never the type of person to talk about their issues and receive perceptive insight, causing my life to magically become picture perfect, solving every single one of my problems, then rolling the credits with the Friends theme song.

Because life just wasn't that simple.

That night was probably like most. Laying in bed staring at my ceiling, weary yet unable to let loose and drift away. All that was left for me to do was think. Think about the inevitable fact that I would soon fall asleep, unfortunately I would have to spend the next few minutes, before that happens, and suffer. I guess this was mother nature's way of letting you reflect on your actions, those humiliating moments we regret, causing us the gut-wrenching feeling of condemnation.

But, there were no moments belonging to me I had to ponder. I could only ask myself, what the hell happened to her?

Halo was a mission impossible movie. There was always something exciting and adventurous just around the corner. Her motto once was there would be no rules without rebellion. She'd then emphasize the statement saying how technically she was enforcing the rules by breaking them. She was one of those people who would have an idea, not take a second longer to think about what had just entered her mind and do it. From what it seemed, her impulsiveness had not changed much or her thirst for an adrenaline rush. No, what had changed was the wholesome tone she use to have in her voice. Each word was now filled with no meaning and each action was driven from a burning desire to fill the void in her soul, only enlarging.

If only I could just find enough courage to talk to her.

But, what would I say?

"Hey, uh, remember me? Jackson Novak. We use to hang out when were like ten, and I've noticed you recently moved back into the neighborhood this past year. Sorry if you ever caught me stalkerishly staring at your house, I was just wondering if you were home and what you might've doing."

Oh yeah, she'd probably just fall right into my arms after that glorious soliloquy.

Actually she might just jackslap me in the face for even considering speaking to her. After all, she had made it very clear she either never wanted to talk to me again, or suffered a terrible case of amnesia, causing her to lose about four years worth of her memory.

In all fairness, we were young.

We have matured quite a bit since our last rendezvous. She definitely wasn't that flat chested little girl from the fifth grade anymore. So, maybe it's possible she didn't recognize me?

That's ridiculous, I hadn't changed that much. I was still rather freckled face, sustaining your basic non-aerobic physique, just a foot and a half taller and different pair of glasses. I couldn't have changed to a certain degree making me unrecognizable.

Yes, it had been about five years, I'll give her that, but wouldn't she find me the slightest bit familiar?

Maybe, her life just didn't have enough room for me at the moment. She was already busy with her other friends, she just hadn't found the words to say to me yet.

Or maybe, my special gift of blending into the crowd was becoming better than I intended.

"Yeah, that was it," I tried telling myself, sinking into denial. Even though I hadn't chosen a possible theory to which I agreed with.

It was sometimes easier to deceive yourself than accepting the facts.

But, what's the point? She's moved on.

I wanted to hate her. To hate her for planting seeds of hope. For making me wish she would look at me and smile, reminiscing on a moment we once shared. She left me in suspense, on the edge of my seat, eagerly waiting to see what her next move would be.

But, I didn't hate her. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.

[ravonix]

Got a gender confirmation procedure c:

[stiri-noi]

WORK IN MOTION: Mobilitatea angajaților, un element cheie în strategiile companiilor

BusinessMark organizează, pe 18 mai, cea dea doua ediție a evenimentului WORK IN MOTION. A workforce mobility conference. Evenimentul va avea loc la Hotel InterContinental, București. Unii dintre cei mai cunoscuți specialiști în domeniu vor discuta despre modalitățile prin care companiile pot integra mobilitatea angajaților, într-un mod eficient, la nivel strategic.

Evenimentul conține subiecte, precum: tendințele în materie de people management; implementarea programelor de mobilitate; soluțiile pentru optimizarea costurilor programelor de mobilitate; cultura organizațională versus mobilitatea angajaților; mobilitatea talentelor ca punct organizațional strategic la nivel internațional; labirintul procedural al emigrării – diferențele la nivel național, regional, continental ce pot aduce provocări procedurale; Planning & training – elemente esențiale în pregătirea anagajaților pentru programele de mobilitate; Importanța detaliilor la nivel de relocare; Impactul tehnologiei asupra mobilității – data analysis; Global leadership și performance management; Payroll și salarizare pentru angajații internaționali. Dinamica legislativă și fiscală la nivel global și optimizarea taxelor internaționale; provocări și soluții în mobility management; Securitatea angajaților și relocările în țări cu provocări la nivel de securitate; măsurarea ROI-ului programelor de mobilitate.

Participanții au ocazia să interacționeze cu următorii invitați:

SMĂRĂNDIȚA SCHNEL, Director HR BPO România, Telekom România ANAMARIA-CRISTINA DOBRIN, HR Coordinator, Stefanini ZOE DOBRE, HR Director, City Grill ANDREEA BUCUR, General Manager – HR- WNS Global Services (P) Ltd DANIELA OPRESCU, Tax Director, KPMG România IRINA NISTOR, Senior Manager (Global Mobility, HNWI), PwC România OLIVIER RAVON, Central & Eastern Europe Director, Gosselin Mobility Reprezentant Romanian Software

Evenimentul se adresează: directorilor generali, adjuncți, financiari și de HR, managerilor din departamentul juridic, payroll și salarizare, precum și antreprenorilor.

Înscrierea la eveniment se va face prin completarea formularului de înregistrare, disponibil pe site-ul BusinessMark și trimiterea acestuia la office@business-mark.ro.

[sexdrugavacado]

It’s not just ADHD, it’s not just OCD, it’s not just DID no. It’s all of them all. Is it an excuse no not to those who don’t have to live with it. People will never understand why I do certain things act certain ways or even regress to old behaviors in their minds it’s just me not trying but it’s not that simple.

ADHD makes you impulsive and extremely emotional when you are passionate or excited and it comes off in more cases than not as aggression to those who neither understand it or have it also it makes a moment feel like an eternity everything slows to a crawl. It also allows your brain to constantly have different thoughts running through it which can be very useful but also very detrimental when paired with something like OCD, for then you obsess over every thought good or bad it just sticks with you in your head and you may try to fight it off but it’s not as simple as for a regular person. Now this combination has caused me to experience great loss pains and sorrows it’s one of the reasons my depression has stuck with me for so long. But that’s not even the best part of it all. The best way to get passed your depression is to work on yourself constantly work on yourself. Exercise more eat better sleep well practice discipline try to think better thoughts and work on yourself. That’s where the DID comes in to fuck up the dance now because this little monster makes you a passenger in your own body you lose time have gaps of no memory and sometimes even memories that aren’t your own that flash before you worst of all you pay the consequences for actions you never committed. The people who surround you can’t or won’t understand I think it’s more of a won’t than can’t though. But that’s because if you ever bring it up all you ever hear is oh you can’t use it as an excuse you need to try harder but I ask you to imagine this for me.

One day you’re walking with your best friend and feel as though your hand isn’t yours and then your feet and the last thing you can see is your friends face smiling you blink and a moment later your friend is gone days have passed but to you only a moment. You pick yourself up and call your friend to ask what happened but you get no answer you go outside and your family won’t talk to you keep in mind a moment ago everything was fine. But that’s just to you. In reality three days have passed and in those three days you’ve lost everything you held dear. You try to explain but no one hears you out they tell you that it’s your own fault that you must do better be better. But tell me how am I supposed to be better when you aren’t even the one in control half the time? They want you to take the medication for it? Sure but You’ll end up in a ditch by the end of the week if you do because the medication does what you just can’t the medication makes it so you don’t care anymore you just want the pain to end you just want that feeling to go away and more times than not you try. A lucky few get away but some of us are here to stay.

I’m someone who’s very tired and I want so badly to just give up everyday I wake up and I pray for my own death just so that I can have it all end but everyday I wake up and every night I go back to sleep in the world of suffering afraid terrified even terrified that I’d wake up and have to go through it all again. And you all expect me to smile? You all expect me to want to continue? Don’t make me fucking laugh. I dare anyone of you to take a step in my shoes even for a moment.

- Ravon

[deniscollins]

A Quebec Ban on Religious Symbols Upends Lives and Careers

The Quebec government in June banned schoolteachers, police officers, prosecutors and other public sector employees from wearing religious symbols while at work, which applies to Muslim head scarves, Sikh turbans, Jewish skullcaps, and Catholic crosses and other religious symbols, in order to uphold the separation between religion and state, and maintains the neutrality of public sector workers. Should the U.S. adopt a similar law? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

A Muslim lawyer who wears a head scarf has put aside her aspiration to become a public prosecutor.

A Sikh teacher with a turban moved about 2,800 miles from Quebec to Vancouver, calling herself a “refugee in her own country.”

And an Orthodox Jewish teacher who wears a head kerchief is worried that she could be blocked from a promotion.

Since the Quebec government in June banned schoolteachers, police officers, prosecutors and other public sector employees from wearing religious symbols while at work, people like these three women have been grappling with the consequences.

François Legault, the right-leaning Quebec premier, says the law — which applies to Muslim head scarves, Sikh turbans, Jewish skullcaps, Catholic crosses and other religious symbols — upholds the separation between religion and state, and maintains the neutrality of public sector workers. The government has stressed that the vast majority of Quebecers support the ban.

“I would not feel comfortable being faced with a judge or lawyer in court wearing a head scarf here, because I would worry about their neutrality,” said Radhia Ben Amor, a research coordinator at the University of Montreal, who is Muslim and said she moved from Tunisia to live in a more secular country.

But the law has prompted vocal protests and legal challenges, as well as condemnation by Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

Critics say it flouts freedom of religion, breaches constitutional protections and excludes minorities who choose to wear symbols of faith from vital professions. They also say implementing the law will be fraught because it can be hard to discern a religious symbol from a fashion accessory or nonreligious garb.

The English Montreal School Board said the law was forcing it to turn away qualified teachers. It said at least one teacher had removed her head scarf while at work to keep her job.

The Coalition Inclusion Québec — a group that includes Roman Catholics, Jews, Sikhs and Muslims — is challenging the law in court, along with three teachers, including two Muslims and a Roman Catholic.

Perri Ravon, a lawyer who has worked on two of the lawsuits against the ban, said that at least for now, “the law is disproportionately affecting Muslim women because the hijab is an outwardly visible religious symbol.” She noted that a Catholic cross was less conspicuous since it could be concealed in a blouse or a shirt while at work.

Nonetheless, the Catholic teacher named in one of the suits, Andréa Lauzon, who wears a visible cross and medallion of the Virgin Mary, said in court papers that her faith and identity were inextricably bound, and that her constitutional right to freedom of religion was being breached.

The ban has its roots in Quebec’s historic evolution into an abidingly secular society with a visceral distrust of religion, stemming from the so-called Quiet Revolution in the 1960s, when Quebecers revolted against dominance of the Roman Catholic Church.

Jean Duhaime, emeritus professor of religion at the University of Montreal, said that even before the recent law, the wearing of crosses in the public sector was stigmatized and discouraged in Quebec society.

He said Catholic opponents to the ban were in solidarity with other religious groups, adding that many proponents of the law saw Muslims wearing head scarves as “the phantom of religion reappearing in Quebec while viewing the hijab as an instrument of patriarchal domination.”

Here are four women whose lives and careers have been affected by the ban.

Nour Farhat, 28

Nour Farhat long dreamed about becoming a Quebec public prosecutor. Instead, she now represents a teachers’ union that is suing the Quebec government over the ban.

During an internship for a Quebec government agency, Ms. Farhat appeared before a judge in her head scarf, she said, making her a novelty in the courthouse.

But the ban came into effect a few weeks after she finished her master’s degree in criminal law. “My dreams are destroyed,” she said. She now works in a private law firm.

Ms. Farhat argued that the law was inconsistent.

“Why is it O.K. for a man with a beard or a woman wearing a cross under her turtleneck to work as a state prosecutor but it’s not O.K. for a woman to wear a hijab?” she asked.

While some supporters say the law will help liberate Muslim women from a garment they call sexist and restrictive, Ms. Farhat said her head scarf empowers her.

Ms. Farhat’s parents emigrated to Montreal from Lebanon in the 1990s. At age 11, she decided to put on a head scarf. “My dad always said ‘My daughter is worth 1000 men,’” she recalled.

She said that although some judges had been startled to see a female lawyer with a head scarf, some defendants from minority backgrounds cheered.

“They said, ‘We’re so happy to see someone like you in a courthouse’ even after I reminded them that I was prosecuting them.”

VERY LONG ARTICLE CONTINUES ...

[hiphop2horror]

It Gets Better

Kevin Moulder from Sugar Rush Clip 

In this clip Kevin Moulder, the winner of Sugar Rush (baking show competition) was interviewed to talk about his passion for baking and representation of the queer community. During his interview, he emphasized that his creativity is inspired by the queer community, for example, the cakes he makes are inspired by queer fashion. He uses “creativity” and “passion” a lot and he gives off an air of confidence when he talks about the way he uses the queer community to funnel his passion for baking. I also liked that he noted that not only is he representing the queer community but also the Latino and Latino-queer community. He takes both race and sexuality into consideration when talking about representation which I appreciated. 

“Everythings Gonna Be Okay” Freeform Cast 

In this clip, the cast of “Everythings Gonna Be Okay”, a show that represents a gay man as one of the lead characters, talk about the representation of the LGBTQ+ community and the struggles that people in the community face. Josh Thomas, one of the cast members who had experienced being ridiculed for his sexuality growing up, made really noteworthy comments during his segment. He talked about how “Everyone grows up with these rules”, by rules he means societal norms or expectations. An example is that often times when you are young you are told that you must first go to college, then get a degree, and then marry someone of the opposite gender, and then have children. However, Thomas stated that “being gay means burning that down and starting again.” Essentially he is saying that being gay means that you go against what the societal norms are and make your own rules that lead to your own happiness and contentment. Another thing that I liked was that another cast member, Kayla Cromer, talked about the importance of community. Getting in touch with a community of people who can support you and understand your struggles can make you feel a lot less isolated. Communities provide a mode of self-expression as well, especially since some people who are in the LGBTQ+ community are born into communities that are less accepting or understanding. Finally, one cast member, Adam Faison, recognized the queer population that lives in less privileged and smaller communities. It is important to talk about people in these situations, as noted by Christine McKenna Lok and Lauren Chartier, who saw a tendency for there to be more of a focus on people who come from middle-class suburbs where white privilege is prevalent than those who are from smaller underrepresented communities when talking about bullying victims. 

Ravon Symone Clip: 

Ravon Symone, famously known for her role in “That's So Raven” talked about her experiences growing up knowing that she was attracted to girls. She talked how people who are homosexual often feel the need to repress those feelings when they are children (they often do this by pushing themselves to be in relationships with people of the opposite sex), but she emphasized that she felt “lighter” and “freer” once she came out. She no longer felt isolated or alone. One thing she talked about, however, that I had mixed feelings towards was when she said that people must learn how to deal with oppression or abuse (struggles that people in the LGBTQ+ community often face) when they are young. In my opinion, how are adolescents supposed to deal with such abuse when they are so young and they have no avenue in which they can let out some of the pain they hold in? You can’t really expect a young person to just deal with the world’s problems without getting overwhelmed, and you can’t label them as “weak” for not being able to handle the feeling of isolation and doubt. 

- Alina Khan

[prosebacon63]

Paralyzed Iranian Dog Survives and Thrives with New Owner, Who Says “He Saved Me”

It was a cold, snowy night in Bumahen, Iran, and Mr. Mohsen was staring out the car window as an employee drove him to a work-related event. He caught something out of the corner of his eye and noticed a dog slowly dragging his frail, paralyzed body through the snow. It was a pathetic sight, and Mohsen caught his breath. And then their eyes met, but Mohsen didn’t tell the driver to stop, and they drove away.

Vafa Animal Shelter

He could not get the dog out of his head. “I regret that we didn’t stop,” Mohsen later said. The next day, he asked his employee to go to the area and find the dog. It was a long shot, but he found the dog and brought him to the office.

Mohsen immediately brought the dog to a veterinarian who checked out the German shepherd mix. The dog, about five years old, apparently had lived on the streets for years, most likely had been hit by a car, and subsequently became paralyzed. He had suffered horrible abuse and had wounds all over his face, body, and ears.

A motorcycle exhaust burn on his tail led the vet to believe the dog was tied to a motorcycle and dragged. X-rays showed the damage was irreversible. “The dog is in a lot of pain and he needs to be euthanized,” the vet said.

Vafa Animal Shelter

“I can’t do that,” Mohsen said, relaying the story about how he went a different route the night he locked eyes with the dog. “So, I believe our paths were meant to cross.”

The Miracle Dog

Mohsen contacted Vafa Animal Shelter in Hashtgerd, Iran, for help. Vafa had about 500 dogs and offered to take the dog when a spot opened. In the meantime, Mohsen and other employees cared for the dog at their office. He would later come to be called The Miracle Dog because it was a miracle that he survived.

Vafa Animal Shelter

At the time, Farah Ravon, Vafa’s U.S. representative, began networking the paralyzed dog because the shelter was no place for him. Ravon found Neda, a woman who was traveling back to Maryland who volunteered to bring the dog to Washington D.C. Further networking attracted Miss Parvine who lived in France. She offered to sponsor and pay the dog’s travel expenses. Because of her generosity, Parvine was given the honor of naming him. She chose Omid, which in Farsi means “to have hope.”

Vafa Animal Shelter

Omid arrived at Dulles Airport on March 24, 2012. After subsequently moving around a bit in different foster situations and then luckily having a wheelchair donated to him, Omid eventually was placed in a foster home with a couple in D.C. The plan was to network him in the area in hopes of getting him adopted into a forever home.

  Omid Finds a Family and Fame

After being fostered and then having a potential adoption fall through, Omid finally found his forever home with Bany Alavi and her now former husband Babak Alipour. Ravon had known the couple because of a heroic rescue when they helped save more than 85 dogs in California. The couple previously fell in love with Omid when they met to dog sit him one weekend.

Although it was difficult to see Omid as he was, “there was an instant bond,” Alavi said. “Omid was a very exhausted dog and so tired. He had no defense mechanism and no guard up.” Omid fit in perfectly with the couple’s other rescue dogs.

Omid Alipour

His story got around, and Omid enjoyed his celebrity status. The Humane Society of Washington D.C. had a competition for the cover of Nova Dog magazine in 2012 and Omid won. The cover was revealed at the 25th Annual Bark Ball, a black-tie gala.  Later in 2015, Omid was the subject of a short-animated film called “Omid” (Hope) that won Best Animation Documentary at the Rendezvous Film Festival.

Omid Alipour

Challenges and Frustrations

After adopting Omid, Alavi did extensive research on caring for a paralyzed dog because she and Alipour had no experience.

Omid Alipour

Diapers became the center of everything. “I bought every diaper on the planet, every dog diaper, every human diaper, we created diapers, we would buy diapers and alter them,” Alavi said. Since the doggy wheelchair is only for walking and you cannot leave a dog in it 24/7, Omid would scoot around and the diaper would slide down. “The diaper comes down and he’s a male, and his little thing would stick out of the diaper and he would pee. That was a challenge but not the poor dog’s fault.” Then Alavi learned about expressing a dog’s bladder, and things slowly got better.

“Omid and I learned together, and we have a routine. Now it’s a piece of cake.”

A Transformation for Alavi and Omid

At first, Omid allowed almost anyone to touch him, but as time went on, he not only became very protective of Alavi, he no longer wanted strangers petting him. He simply did not trust others anymore.

She saw his protectiveness as a negative. But one night something happened when she and Omid were on an evening walk that made Alavi realize that his protectiveness was OK.

Omid Alipour

“I’m very alert and always aware of my surroundings, and although I’m aware, on that particular night I somehow didn’t hear a drunk man,” Alavi said. It was after midnight and so dark that she did not see the man who had passed out and was sleeping on the grass under a tree. She and Omid were walking when the man suddenly stood up and walked behind them. “Omid turned around and gave the biggest growl. When he gets like that he becomes so vicious and intimidating even though he’s in a wheelchair.” The man got so scared and fell back onto the grass. Alavi then pulled Omid and they practically ran home.

Omid Alipour

“That night I was thankful, grateful, appreciative for his demeanor and realized ‘OK, I’d rather him be like this and protect me and we watch out for each other,’” she said. “I take care of him the best I can in regards to what he needs, and he’s taking care of me the way his instincts tell him.” Alavi ensures that Omid is not put into situations that are not good for him and prefers to keep him away from strangers. “No one can come up and pet him without me catching it,” she said.

Lessons Learned

“He’s gone to hell, survived, and came out of hell but in the process is paralyzed and yet he is so happy-go-lucky,” Alavi said. “How can you not learn from that when you are witnessing it every single day?”

Omid Alipour

Omid is goofy and continually makes Alavi laugh, from the way he chews to how he just enjoys everything in life. “I have definitely become a better person” because of Omid, she said. “I’ve learned a lot of important life lessons that I never really learned as well as I did through Omid. It was God’s way of saying, ‘I have to teach this person so that she’ll understand,’ so he did it in the form of a dog.”

Babak Alipour

“Omid has enhanced my life, he’s changed my life, he has saved my life,” she said.  Because of that, she says the least she can do is be an advocate for paralyzed dogs. “I owe it to him and to all of the animals.”

Coming Full Circle

Over the years, Mohsen desperately wanted to know what happened to the dog he spotted in the snow that one winter’s night. He checked with the Vafa shelter. When he got word that the dog went to America and found a loving home with a Persian couple, he wrote a letter to Alavi:

Babak Alipour

“I wish to be a drop of water in that ocean that is your great big heart to have opened your home to be able to take care of this dog as well as you have.”

  You can find Omid on his Facebook page.

Or check Omid’s YouTube channel.

For anything Omid-related, questions on disabled dogs, or to send fan mail, email Omidthemiracledog (at) gmail.com.

Featured photo left: Vafa Animal Shelter; right: Babak Alipour

Source: https://www.rover.com/blog/paralyzed-iranian-dog-survives-and-thrives-with-new-owner-who-says-he-saved-me/