#she grew up in a society and went to school and met lots of other people
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Found this meme that I thought would be worth doing because of how hilariously inaccurate it is.
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This is Alyssa, and her pronouns are she/her. She is a transgender woman. She grew up in a conservative household and spent most of her life thinking transgender people were just “crazy”. It was later in life when she learned more about them that she realized she could actually be one, and she started referring to herself as a woman in safe environments. She still prefers masc clothing, and her issues with hand-eye coordination mean that she doesn’t shave. She doesn’t understand why she has to shave to be respected as a woman. She met Beth and Kennedy through her work mentoring the younger generation of trans people, and became informed about transids other than transgender. She enjoys getting coffee with them (and Samuel too) to expand her horizons.
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This is Beth, and she uses she/her pronouns. She always felt like something was “wrong” about her, but was never able to put a finger on exactly what. She went through a short period of identifying as transgender, but decided she was happy as a woman and that that wasn’t the cause of her dysphoria. It was through conservative news websites mocking the concept (and self-identity in general), that she first learned that being “transracial” was a thing that some people were. She joined trace/diaracial spaces on social media, and discovered she was transblack. She’s still afraid to transition due to fears of being mocked and accused of racism, but now she has words for her experience. She met Kennedy, another transid person, in her college classes, and they became roommates. Later, she met Samuel and Alyssa, and befriended them as well.
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This is Kennedy, and her pronouns are she/her. She always struggled fitting into human society due to her neurodivergence (ADHD and mild autism), but it was in high school that she began considering it was something more than that. She discovered the nonhuman community and related a lot to them. The final puzzle piece was sneaking off to the park to do quadrobics (after double, triple, and quadruple checking that no one she knew could be spying on her) and realized just how “correct” this all felt. She initially identified as a cat therian, but got fed up with the community’s constant claims of “we don’t actually think we’re animals” and switched to transspecies cat. Part of her wants to transition via tattoos and surgery, but she wants to become a doctor someday and fears her patients won’t take her seriously. Meeting Beth at college meant she finally had someone to relate to.
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This is Samuel, Kennedy’s older brother, and he uses he/him pronouns. He is a devout Christian who goes to worship regularly. He opposes those who use Christianity as a cudgel for hate, and instead believes in Jesus’s message of love for all. He was the first person Kennedy told about her transspecies identity. He didn’t really understand one bit, but he respected and loved his sister regardless.
This got really long, but I was sick and didn’t have anything better to do. Hope you enjoy!
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delightfuldevin · 8 months ago
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People in the comments of the new splatfest song are kinda annoying ngl,,
Marina is very smart y’all. Even if she was sheltered by growing up in the Octarian domes, I’m preeetty sure everyone wasn’t super kind and genuine to each other all the time. There’s no way Marina doesn’t know what being passive aggressive looks like. She’s not too uwu pure to tell that Shiver was insulting her. She’s just a genuine fan of Deep Cut and she ain’t about that petty insults stuff.
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brellafaun · 2 months ago
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assorted small town au ramblings
all the hargreeves kids grew up in different houses with their birth moms but still went to the same schools together. lila was a transplant from the burbs and she was dying of boredom her first year there
a small mountain town just feels right. lots of woods to explore, plenty of places to hike- small enough that everyone is close, but spacious enough that it's not suffocating
i can picture some of the boys going hunting when the season comes around. diego would probably get really into it and five would be the best with a crossbow. everyone is down for fishing and screwing around at the local lake, though
speak of, hargreeves family cookouts monthly. everyone brings something and the kids run around while the adults just chill. either hosted by diego and lila's place or at the lake's shitty park tables
Luther is a math teacher at the local middle school (he is so smart. i will die on this hill) and adores his job. all the kids think he's the coolest person they've ever met. Sloane is the geography/history teacher down the hall. they make lunches for each other and spend their prep periods together. their students FREAKED OUT when they found out they were married. he works with the local scout troops over the summers and likes canoeing the best
Diego works with the local fire department (i can't make him a cop i'm sorry) and loves it. got really into axe throwing and wanted to teach Stanley, Grace, and the twins how to do it before Lila vetoed it. deer hunts in the fall, fishes as often as possible. epitome of girl dad, those kids have him wrapped around their little fingers. best bass player in town and avid enjoyer of the local bars' battle of the bands
Allison works with local government. amazing public speaker. lives in the heart of town with Ray and Claire, happier than ever. always the first to volunteer for Claire's school events- coaches for the high school volleyball team and is the best drama coach they've ever seen. surprisingly, loves camping the most out of anyone in the group. points out every constellation (she and Luther compete to see who can name the most) when they're outdoors and makes the best s'mores
Klaus sells the crochet and knit goods they make at local markets/the town festivals. has immaculate reviews on his etsy store. somehow pulls the best thrifting hauls with Allison and Claire. goes to the lake the most out of the group- loves to swim out and relax in the water. doesn't go on the hunting or fishing trips but does know all of the edible plant species they can forage locally. roomies with Ben and has a cat named Tango. keeps picking up DIYs in order to have excuses to visit Dave down at the hardware store
Five is the group cryptid. has a cabin in the woods somewhere. almost a full-on survivalist, bound to actually go feral someday. works with the town's historical society and archives. gets lunch with Herb and Dot semi-regularly. Mr. Pennycrumb accompanies him everywhere, and nobody argues with it. cans his own food and has bees on his property (he regularly leaves jam and honey jars on the others' porches and denies doing so). either the best dressed one at the function or wearing an awful fishing/hunting pun hoodie, no in-between
Ben is a librarian, and a kickass one at that. the best at story hour (his puppeteering skills with the octopus are immaculate) and incredible with multitasking. handles a bunch of finance stuff behind the scenes (diego and klaus are hopeless with taxes, five has almost been arrested for evasion). works on his motorcycle when he has free time and rides down to the valley to visit his girlfriend. presses wildflowers and helps at the community garden
Viktor works at the local music shop, Icarus Records. Luther is his most frequent customer and has probably bought at least half of their stock at this point. he's got more music knowledge than anyone else in town. loves going out on the hiking trails to play at the peaks- it brings him a sense of peace like nothing else. volunteers with the schools to teach music. still in his teenage band with Diego and Lila. visits his mom every week and sits out on the porch with her drinking sweet tea. budding romance with the newest transplant- a recently divorced woman from texas. (her son adores him already)
Lila also works with the historical society, but as the chaotic social media/marketing manager. she gets paid to meme and that's probably her dream career. attends every PTA meeting purely to psych out the other moms. drums whenever she gets the chance, absolutely demolishing everyone at the battle of the bands. chaotic evil driver- she learned with city traffic and assumes it makes her immune to the super windy roads. steals Diego's flannels and denies it
might make a separate post about their teenage years,,,
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emilythedog661-tf2 · 3 months ago
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My TF2 Morden AU
Here is another instalment of my TF2 Alternate Universes, todays AU is about if the mercenaries lived in the 21st century in todays society, info is under the cut snd i hope you like it 😋
First we have the Mercenaries who aren't Mercenaries -
Scout - Scout who is named Jeremy Fast was born in 1996 making his 28 and he is a high school PE teacher for the boys, he is a good PE teacher but he been in trouble with the school a few times after parents complain that he's been flirting with the high school girl all between 13 - 16, he grew up with his single mom and his 8 half brothers and he is the youngest of the brothers, he's not sure who his dad was when he was younger but then he found out when he was 18 from his mom that his dad was a guy from france who met Jeremy's mom at the bar she works at while on a buisness trip, they then hit it off, had a one night stand then scout's mom had Jeremy, Jeremy's dad then disappeared after Jeremy was born but he still kept in contact with Jeremy's mom for child support, the only issue Jeremy has is that he can't seem to get a girlfriend, he went though dating apps, went out public areas like bars and concerts and even ask woman if they were single but nothing worked making him feel depressed that he can't get anyone to love him, another issue is that he has ADHD so he struggles to socialise full time and gets easily distracted, lastly, he's uses TikTok a lot to make random videos and he is a little popular on the platform but still can't get a girl to like him.
Soldier - Soldier who is named John Dow was born in 1979 making him 45 years old, he is a ex-military man who got let go from the military after being mentally unstable to be in the military, he found out from the military after being in it for 15 years that he has undiagnosed asperger's which was the reason the military had to let him go, John didn't want to be let go as he was used to being in the military for so long and he had nobody to go to as he was a orphan since he was 2 but he now on his own for a while with a single apartment that he bought with his veteran pension, he was also accepted to have a service dog for his asperger's and he ends up having a yorkshire terrier named Squibbs (This is based on my late yorkie with the same name and i just think it's funny seeing Soldier having a small dog like a yorkie as a service dog), the apartment he lives in also introduced him to his opposite neighbour named Dell and John is now having a sexual crisis as he has romantic feeling for Dell.
Pyro - Pyro who forgot his name was a firefighter but then he got into a accident where his body got completely burnt, he also gained severe memory loss after banging his head on a falling wooden board trying to get out the fire and now he stays in a care home as he started to act childish and unstable, he is not dangerous or unpredictable, he is just a lost and severely burnt human with mental issues that the doctor and nurses are trying their best to help him, he loves to draw, make balloon animals, is easily entertained and he has a big imagination but he can't seem to get his old memories back as he can't remember anything or anyone from his past life.
Demoman - Demoman who is named Travish Degroot was born in 1989 making him 35 years old, he is a workaholic who works many different jobs in his birth country of scotland and he is very well known in his hometown form all the jobs he has, his mother use to be a workaholic like Travish until she retired at 65, Travish's family now has loads of money that demoman got from all the jobs he done and he with his mother now have a nice house together, the jobs the Travish have is a cashier, a waiter, a carer for animals at shelters and rescues, a computer tech, a cameraman for some tv shows, a boom mic operator and other things, Travish is happy with his life and he doesn't seem to want to stop doing jobs.
Heavy - Heavy who is named Mikhail or Misha for short was born in 1968 making him 56 years old and is popular wrestler in russia, he has multiple awards and is a celebrity in russia, the reason he became a wrestler was to help his single mother and 3 sisters as they grew up poor and their dad died a few months after the youngest sister was born, Misha's baby sisters are now 34, 32 and 30 and they are happily living their lives thanks to Misha supporting them when they left home, the 3 sisters are now living happily with their husband with their kids and Misha loves his nieces and nephews like they were his kids, Misha is now living happily still being a celebrity and he also has a girlfriend named sylvia, the pair have been dating for 5 years now and they act like a married couple even if they aren't married yet.
Engineer - Engie who is named Dell Conagher was born in 1980 making him 44 years old and he was born in beehive, texas, he was raised by both his dad and grandad with no mother as she left after giving birth to Dell and his grandmother died of cancer a year before Dell was born so he had no mother figure, both Dell's dad and grandad did a good job raising Dell and he helped around his dad and grandad's family buisness which was a mechanical buisness, the buisness helped fix cars, machines and recently as of 2010, technology too, Dell learn everything about mechanics getting a few PhDs for it and when he turned 18, he moved out of texas saying bye to his dad as he grandad sadly died when he was 13 and he started a mechanical buisness in america, he was doing well with his buisness and he had help fixed loads of things over the years but he decided to keep living in a apartment when he has enough to buy a house, he then met his new neighbour, John and the pair hit it off really well with even Dell adoring John's Service Yorkie, after a while though, Dell realised that he was starting to get feeling for John and he was having sexual crisis as he didn't even know he was gay until he met John, sure he didn't have a girlfriend but he just thought he was too busy to think about having one but now he was have gay thought about John and he didn't know what to do with them.
Medic - Medic who is named Wilhelm Ludwig or Will for short was born in 1984 making him 40 years old and he was born in stuttgart, germany, Wilhelm was raised by doctor parents so Will wanted to be one too but he ended up becoming a pathologist instead, Will was very good at his job with examining the dead body and finding out the cause of death to the body during investigation for detectives and the police, he was so good at his pathologist job that he was called a pathologist sherlock as he would always get it right, he was soon hired by investigators in different countries to help them with examining dead bodies and he ended up helping to solve many cases, one of these trips he went to was australia and during a day off before going back to germany, he ends up meeting a animal photographer named Mike, the pair hit off talking about animals mainly birds and they decided to keep in contact with each other, the pair soon met up often with Will visiting Mike in australia and soon, the pair started to get romantic feelings for each other, Mike would also sometime go to germany to visit Will and the pair went to places where Will knew Mike would like.
Sniper - Sniper who is named Mike Mundy was born in 1994 making him 30 years old and he born to his bio parents in new zealand but then dumped Mike off at a orphanage when he was 6 months old, he was then soon adopted by his adopted parents when he was 12 months old and his new parents were elderly parents both being in their early 40s, Mike adored his adopted mother becoming a mama's bot but he has a love-hate relationship with his dad as his dad was grumpy, always wanted to argue and never showed affection but still loved Mike as a son in his own way, Mike growing up was always picked on by the other boys for being skinny and having elderly parents but he ended up being quite handsome when he got to his teen years, he soon moved out when he was 20 and lived in a small apartment a few mintues druve away from his parents, he got a job as a photographer for special occasions like weddings, baby showers, birthdays and other things and he ended up getting a lot of money for it, he then became a animal photographer from magazines and the pictures became popular making him more money, he did ask his parents if he could use some of his money to fix up the home but his dad rejected the offer saying the house was fine so Mike put half of his money to the side for his future while using the rest to buy a RV, he then sold his apartment and then traveled around australia to take pictures of animals and irs how he met Wilhelm, Mike liked Wilhelm as they both have a big love of bird and he never had anyone who shared his interests before so he was happy to have a friend, he soon realised though that he was getting feelings for Will and he hoped Will liked him back.
Spy - Spy who is named Jacque Voclain was born in 1976 making him 48 years old and he was born in france, Jacque is a very busy businessman and he works for a very popular french company, he's worked at the company for years going from a rookie to the CEO of the company, he has also traveled around a lot and it's how he met Jeremy's mom and accidentally had Jeremy with her, Jacque payed Child support to Jeremy's mom until Jeremy was 18 and he doesn't hear for Jeremy himself but his mom fills Jacque in on what he's done and what he's been doing over the almost 3 decades Jeremy being around, Jacque had never really met anyone else after Jeremy's mom and he did try to find someone similar to her but it never worked, Jacque hopes to meet up with Jeremy's mom again as he still loved her after all of these years but he wished she didn't have all those kids with different men.
That's all for now and i'll add more if i think of anything else, see you all next time! 😋
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serialadoptersbracket · 8 months ago
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Round 2, Match 58: Eda Clawthorne vs. Gavroche
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Submitted kids:
Eda Clawthorne: Luz Noceda, King Clawthorne, Hunter, Edric Blight, and debatably, Amity Blight, Willow Park, and Gus Porter
Gavroche: Gavroche's unnamed brothers, but Gavroche was abandoned when very young and he doesn't know they're related to him
Propaganda under the cut!
Eda Clawthorne:
1. “First of all, Eda wasn't granted a lot of good things: She was cursed (by someone she loved) with an ever worsening illness, she was outcasted and prosecuted from society for not blindly following the rules and conforming. Lots of baggage and trauma. Still when Luz stumbled into human world, she took her in. She taught her magic and how to navigate this world.
She gave her advice and hugged her and reprimanded her. She wasn't an adoptive mom from the start, she grew into the role. She made mistakes, but she was willing to listen to Luz and overthink her behavior. Think of the beginning, when Luz wanted to go to school and Eda didn't want her. In the end she let her go and gave her her full support. She genuinely cared for her even when she was new in her life, and rescued her out of a lot of sticky situations, never left her behind, always ready to risk her life for those she loved.
Also King- She adopted him out of a cave and cared for him like a child even before Luz came. And the cared A LOT. For example, when his crown was took from him, she went on a dangerous mission (plus luz she just met and ""used"" for that) to retrieve it. Turns out, it was a ""burger king"" crown, but she did all that because see knew that was important to him. And even though she fears loosing him so much, she still helps him in his search for his real sad.
In conclusion: Outcast who still uses all her resources to give their kids a happy life, an education and a future. She fully supports them (but like a mother also draws a line here and there). She visits school meetings and does paperwork for Luz, she reads stories for them to fall asleep, she goes to Luz' prom, she hides her pain to be strong for them.”
2. “Eda Clawthorne always said she was a terrible influence and took the word “maternal” as an insult. She then proceeded to accidently adopt a sentient demon beast thing, raise him, adopt some human that tripped into her dimension, mentor her, all while being on the run from the tyrannical government. She canonically adopts King in the second season and King and Luz call each other siblings. She also calls them “her kids.” Eda attempts to sacrifice herself for them at many times and tries her best to keep them safe, and is really sad about the fact that they’ll one day leave her to go back to their own families. She puts away her own biases against the school system so that Luz can lead magic. The maternal instincts basically kick her out of nowhere and she goes from a badass, absolute menace to society to badass, absolute menace to society who happens to have two chaos gremlins.”
3. “Her being an adoptive parent wasn't even on her plan, she just likes to defy the government. Oops, now we're a family. Fuck you Emperor Belos!”
4. “This champion of a woman, this legend of a lady, continuously and effortlessly picks up children to care for as if her own. Before the events of the main storyline, she has already adopted the *King of Demons* himself. She takes Luz under her wing (ha), much like she takes in numerous other children with the intent of letting them prosper and grow away from responsibilities and duties placed on them by their previous parental figures. She is thirty and flirty and DANG she is a good mother. She casually picks up three more children whilst aiding in a rebellion with the (NON-BINARY) love of her life. Upon meeting the wonderful biological mother of Luz (Camila Noceda), you can see her VISIBLY SWEATING with the insurmountable pressure she feels to make a good first impression after a whopping three seasons of having raised Camila's kid herself. She cares very deeply for these kids and the people they love, and thus I argue she is one of the best serial adopters in history, if not THE best ever. boom mic drop the crowd goes wild”
(Mod note: Full propaganda list coming soon!)
Gavroche:
“Gavroche's a child himself but cares about the other two like a parent is supposed to : "I'm off to the elephant with my kids. On the supposition that you should need me some night, you'll find me there. I live on the second floor. There is no doorman. You should ask for Monsieur Gavroche." (The elephant is a hollow sculpture where they sleep)”
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hollandbrights · 13 days ago
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[cis woman and she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay,[HOLLAND BRIGHT]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [ELLIE BAMBER]. You must be the[TWENTY-SIX] year old [ATTENDANT AT HIDDEN GEMS THRIFT SHOP]. Word is you’re [HONEST] but can also be a bit [GUARDED] and your favorite song is [PAIN IS COLD WATER BY NOAH KAHAN]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS]. I’m sure you’ll love it! 
BIOGRAPHY INCLUDES: child abuse, neglect, evangelical religion, & internalized homophobia
@aurorabayaesthetic
BASIC INFORMATION !
FULL NAME: Holland May Bryant Bright NICKNAME(S): Hols, Little Bird AGE: Twenty-Six GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman & She/Her SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bisexual & Biromantic BIRTH PLACE: Atlanta, Georgia BIRTHDAY: 15 June ZODIAC: Gemini RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single HEIGHT: 5'6" OCCUPATION: Attendant at Hidden Gems Thrift Shop NEIGHBORHOOD: Ocean Crest Apartments LENGTH OF TIME IN TOWN: Seven Weeks PARENTS: Daniel Bryant (Father) — Living, Morgan Bryant (Mother) SIBLINGS: Cassidy Bryant (Older Sister) — Living, Daniel Junior Bryant (Older Brother) — Living  PETS: None
BIOGRAPHY !
There was nothing assuming about Daniel Bright and Morgan Lee. From the outside they were nothing more than two young adults that met, fell in love, and decided to start a family. Sure, all their friends and people close to them said they had a good work ethic and it was no wonder the two fell in love. Everyone who knew them sang praises about them. But they were, for all intents and purposes, two people who no one would think twice about, who no one would expect cruelty from. Both of them landed jobs in their respective fields. When their first child, Cassidy was born, the two went right back to work, not even bothering to take the time to truly bond with their child, busy with their projects. Their son followed Cassidy three years later and was given the same cold and distant treatment. But it was Holland, the accident, that brought the changes.
While Holland's childhood was particularly boring and not very interesting, things changed when she turned five. The Bryant family did their best to shelter their children from everything that went on in the world. Although Holland was young enough not to know what was going on, her sister and brother were both fifteen and sixteen years older than her. Their parents began pulling away from society, moved from Atlanta to Trenton, Georgia. She and her siblings were forced to give up on the freedom they once had. Instead of going to school, their parents began homeschooling them. Their parents became wary of all their neighbors. So from a young age, the only constant in Holland's life was that her parents were always around and she was barely allowed to leave the house.
Most media was banned from their house, so she learned to draw, learned to entertain herself with whatever her parents did allow in the house. Holland grew up hearing arguments between her older brother and her parents about how they were prisoners in their own home, yet her older siblings had more freedom than Holland ever did. But it was the only thing she knew, so how could she complain? Her parents got more involved with the church and there were other kids her own age and suddenly everything got easier, no matter if she was forced to go to church multiple times a week. Her parents promised her that this was what was best for her. How could she complain. Even if her siblings weren't exactly enthused by the idea.
By the time Holland was ten, both her siblings had moved out. It was only her and her parents, who over the years only got worse. They controlled everything about their daughter's life, from what she wore to who she went out with. When a member left, there was always someone new to replace them, but people rarely left. Holland's brother eventually came back when she was seventeen. Holland remembers the shouting match between her brother and parents. He wanted to take her with him. They couldn't keep Holland locked up forever. She couldn't forget the way her mother screamed, "We're doing everything we can to protect her from everything." And her father who yelled, "So you're becoming a monster just like them." She was scared and would never forget the way her brother left, shaking his head and telling them they were going to ruin Holland, just like they'd ruined themselves.
At eighteen, Holland decided that she was not going to college, like her sister and brother. She had an active role in the church and she enjoyed small town life. Holland had a job at one of the restaurants in town. She didn't understand what her brother was on about. Life was simple for her and she didn't really mind it. At least until she met another woman who was from a big city and hated small town life. She started spending time with her and they became friends. And slowly, after a years and years, Holland found herself falling in love. Feelings that she didn't think were right, according to her church. But she let them happen, thinking that if her church really loved her, they'd accept her. Yet when she felt brave enough to tell them, she just left instead. Holland packed a suitcase and bought a train ticket. She left a letter for her friend, then left. Years ago, when her brother came to visit, he'd given her a post card from Aurora Bay.
While she travelled, she found herself visiting cities all over the country before actually settling down in Aurora Bay. Holland travelled with the intention that she was going to find her brother, but it's been more difficult than she expected. After all, she didn't look the way she did when she was ten and she imagined her brother was the same way. She got a job in town and has started making friends.
HEADCANONS !
To be written
CONNECTION IDEAS !
To be determined
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proxylynn · 1 year ago
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Lucy doesn't just have daddy issues. But she also have mommy issues
[Yep. Her family life wasn't very good.]
Lucy grew up in a hippy family, always growing tired of the constant hatred towards the government, development of living, and just general organic foods. She was picked on a lot at school because of this, her parents always packed her nothing but veggies or fruits they grew themselves. "Can't trust the industrial food in markets". Lucy's parents' mental state began to decline, taking her and running away into the woods so they could live off the grid and homeschool her. She was miserable, trying multiple times to convince her folks to go back to their own home. She was accused of being brainwashed and they thought more severe disciplinary measures would keep her in line. This only made her more rebellious, sneaking out every night to a roadside bar where she enjoyed society once more. There she took up drinking, smoking, and abusing other substances. After 3 years of this, Lucy stopped going home altogether and started to prostitute herself with the hopes to move back to the city. Sure enough, she made plenty and was able to move back into her old home. It was easy to afford since it was abandoned. She went back to school and passed with flying colors, showing she was able to move on to college. With this, she was able to move out of the old home and into a nicer apartment where she met you...
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dorminchu · 1 year ago
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Between Heaven & Earth: Prologue: Part One
a/n: *busts down door* HELLO BOYS, I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
Annie grew up in Nemus, a small hunting town populated by an Eldian majority. Most kids were content to throw horseshoes or play war games in the street than attend school at the mercy of Marleyan kids and tutors. Their elders held no ambitions of becoming more than an honest farmer, hunter, or fisherman; the generation old enough to recall how life was before Tybur's impact on Marleyan wartime politics were happy to change the subject, if it ever came up.
Whenever Annie and her father had cause to pass through town, she would watch for the mothers and their children. The mothers would notice her yellow armband and pointed stare, and offer a tight-lipped smile or a hello for Mr. Leonhardt. Kids spared a second glance to her indifferent posture, her mottled legs. Some would ask if her father was too strict. Annie just shrugged and said, I'm going to be a Warrior. It's nothing I can't handle.
Mostly, they asked a lot of stupid questions. Can you turn into a Titan whenever you want, or was your mother a Titan too, or do you think those Eldians in Paradis missed their families after they ate them?
No.
I don't know.
Why should it matter? They're just devils.
Her father used to work for Marley's Public Security, which was how he met the Warrior Unit's Commander Magrath in the first place. As soon as Annie could walk, he was pushing a knife into her hands. The best path for an Eldian, her father said, was to join the military or get a government job. Ethnic Marleyans often took priority over the latter, despite the reform in 1879, when an Eldian could first sign a series of documents renouncing his bloodline and become an honorary Marleyan. That was just to appease the humanitarians. It didn't change unfair labor standards, verbal and physical attacks outside interment zones.
At six years old, she could perform trips and submissions and clinches. The Titan Research Society took an interest in her. They sent recruiters to the house who asked a lot of questions about her life in Nemus; all right. Her sympathy for Eldians; nonexistent. Her knowledge of Tybur's impact on wartime politics; a hero who bridged the gap between the warring countries, but as interesting to her as a game of jacks in the street. The bloodwork was half of her ticket into Marley's Warrior Unit. The other half was discipline.
Her first test; a spar against one of their soldiers. Colt Grice, blonde and violet-eyed, his face still soft enough to be an adolescent's. Red armband just below his shoulder; already a Warrior. Annie held his gaze, assuming the proper stance; arms up, on the backfoot. The color of his irises seemed to change the longer she paid attention—blue in direct sunlight, then closer to indigo as the sun dipped behind the clouds—at this distance, just a trick of the light.
He blocked her kicks with the flat of his palms. He was too tall for her to reasonably get her arms around his neck without crippling him first, and she couldn't get in close without expending her energy on the offensive. She shifted her weight, the dry grass beneath her heel, and kicked it into his eyes. Grice moved away, shielding his face. She took out his ankle with a sweep and he went down faster than she anticipated.
Grounded, a ditch of faded scars from his temples to eyelids. She'd never seen a Warrior up close. Brushing the dirt off himself, he said, "You've practised a lot." Annie didn't offer her hand. He was powerful enough to disarm her if he'd really had to. Why should be hold back? Grice got to his feet and smiled. "I'm sure Magrath will consider you."
Annie nodded. It wasn't a miracle, just muscle memory and discipline.
"Not one for conversation?" Grice shrugged. "I used to be like that, too."
The doctor was still talking with her father.
"What happened to your face?"
Grice paused. "Injured, on the front lines. Happens to most Warriors once they get out of basic training." Annie watched his eyes, violet eyes, go a little darker. "I don't think you should have any problems."
The Titan Research Society said it would be a month until their decision. To be considered by the Warrior Unit was a great achievement for the child's family. A source of prestige for the derelict hunting town, now the birthplace of a future Warrior. The calluses on her palms, the exhaustion, just proof of her devotion.
Besides herself, her father was the only one who seemed indifferent to her selection as a Warrior candidate. As far as he was concerned, they were just training as usual. He put a lot of emphasis on kicks and clinches, towards the end. A Muay Thai boxer, her father said, would toughen his shins with repetitive strikes. Over time, this created microfractures in the bone, enabling the boxer to deal and receive blows more effectively.
She did it so often, she kept jarring herself awake at night. Eyes on the empty space where she'd struck an imagined foe—the side of the cabin wall. Throbbing in her muscles compounded by the frustration of seemingly little progress. Curling into herself, massaging her shin. It did no good to cry. She was not going to be like the other children, cowed and useless when conscripted.
Each time he had to correct her, they'd start from the beginning. Now he would say, "You won't end up as food for a Titan if an enemy solider is able to run his bayonet through you. Start again." Annie's shins were sore. She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated on centering her weight. The sandbag slouched, inanimate. Blow upon blow, her father looked on and smoked. She stood, waiting for him to say, that's enough, Leonhardt. Her father discarded his cigarette, crushed it beneath his boot. "Wait here."
Annie wiped her face, sheened in sweat. Where the sun met the horizon, the sky was turning pink and orange. When her father came back, he brought a gas-lamp with him. "I didn't tell you to stop," said her father. It was all she could do just to stay upright. She ground her teeth and kicked, hitting the edge of the sandbag. "Properly," her father said, drawing a fresh cigarette. "At this rate you're going to end up like your mother."
When he went to light his next cigarette, she pivoted on her heel. A well-timed kick sent him to the ground. He caught himself on his arm, belly-up. Getting in close wasn't advisable. He could knock out her feet or catch her ankle and twist. If she were larger, she could brace herself against the sandbag and put all of her weight into stomping his throat. Or just bring the sandbag down on his head.
He didn't try to stop her while she drove her foot into his knee, his nose, just laid there, coughing. Annie, staggering back, out of breath as he kept wheezing and pushed himself upright to wheeze some more, spitting up blood. Annie corrected her stance, as if it would make any difference now.
Locking eyes with her, for the first time in her life, his mouth curled through the spit and blood and made her hackles rise. "Very good," he said. "Now, you can kill a man."
Next morning, the sun was high overhead. Her whole body felt like one big bruise. There was a bowl of stew for her, and bread. She sat up carefully, ate in silence. If she was able to hobble past the threshold, she ought to treat her injuries. Setting the bowl aside, she tested her feet.
"You're awake." His limp was pronounced. He smelled like smoke. "They'll be sending out for the candidates all across Marley," he said curtly. "They should arrive in Nemus in a week. You've been selected. So you'll be living in Liberio while you go through basic training. Most likely they'll deploy you within the same year."
Annie, working her jaw, stared at her hands. "When do we resume training?"
Her father looked at her. "Are you in any shape to continue?"
"No, sir."
"You've done enough," her father said. "Let yourself rest."
His tone not quite impassive, just indomitable. Her father's eyes were hazel; hers were blue. He smoked a lot of De Reszke cigarettes when he was agitated, but never inside the house. Annie shared his penchant for sweets and dry, acerbic humor, but otherwise he could have been a stranger. Annie had never seen a picture of her mother, just ascertained the information on the records. Blue eyes, blonde hair. Annie had little imagination outside of what was tangible.
At the end of the week, her father roused her an hour before sunrise. "They'll be here soon," he said, his expression obfuscated in shadow. "Get dressed."
The lines in his face were clearer in the early morning light. The hunch in his gait, from putting his weight on his good leg, hadn't improved since their last spar.
Annie could see the carriage through the window. Her father stopped her, closing his hand over hers, an object passed between them. Annie's eyes lowered to the small, iron ring. "There should be a switch," her father said. "Put it on." It fit on her index finger. She pressed her thumb along the depression, and a small blade clicked open. "With this," her father said, "you can cut out a man's throat." A catch to his voice, like something was stuck in his throat. "Useful in certain situations. Not something you should rely on."
Thumbing the groove twice clicked it shut. Annie stared at the ring. Her father's leg gave out, and he caught her by the back of her jacket. Instead of pulling her down, he wrapped his arms around her. "This world has been your enemy," he said, "from the day you were born. But I'll always be on your side." Annie kept her arms down. This stranger with her father's voice and clothes and smell of tobacco, he whispered through the tremble in his throat, "Promise me you'll come home."
Annie stared at him. "I promise."
When he pulled away, her collar was damp. He avoided her gaze, adjusting his cap. She walked past him, out the door and toward the carriage, already open for her. She took a seat. On the ride over, she removed the ring, turning it over in her palm.
Ten weeks' basic training in Liberio, followed by a year of mandatory service. She could go home after that, if she chose to, but it was seen as a negative for your patriotism to Marley.
During unarmed combat, Annie became the yardstick with which their Commander judged the rest, many of whom did not know a clinch from a grapple. Commander Magrath, a short, powerfully-built Marleyan with sunken eyes and cropped hair, told them how it was common for Warrior cadets to fail basic training. They ended up in workhouses or mining iron ore off the coast of Paradis for Hizuru. Some of them grew up only to be conscripted into Marley's ground forces.
The Galliard brothers—Marcel and Porco—Reiner Braun were willing to scrap with each other as well as Annie. Back home, the kids wouldn't try picking a fight with her more than once. Twice her size, Braun's idea of strategy was charging into a headlock. Disarming him was easier than Colt Grice, because he always lowered his head to charge. If he'd had better instruction, no doubt she would be outclassed. Instead, she won by fighting dirty while the other cadets looked on in faux-sympathy. A clean fight wouldn't save you when the enemy had you at gunpoint. You won, or didn't.
Later, in the mess hall, Braun clapped her on the back with a hand that spanned her shoulders and said that she was all set to inherit a Titan. "Which one?" she said coolly.
Braun didn't notice the change in tone. "Something small." Annie elbowed him in the rib where she'd kicked him. "Agile," he muttered, rubbing the wound. "You didn't let me finish. Probably the Attacker, you'd be better-off for combat than the Jaw."
Annie pushed past him to have a seat at the bench next to Bertholdt Hoover, who rarely said much. He glanced over at her with a start.
"Annie and I were discussing the possibilities of Titan inheritance. Which one do you see yourself as?" Braun asked.
Hoover was hesitating. "I don't really know yet. What about you, Reiner?"
Braun's smile flickered. "Probably I'll just end up working like everyone else who doesn't cut it."
He plopped down next to Annie. Hoover looked across her to say, "If you could be any Titan, what would you be?"
Braun was staring at his stew, a malleable desperation in his eyes bordering on despair. "Armoured."
Hoover nodded. "A Colossus wouldn't be so bad." Annie glanced at him. "Everyone here wants to go to the front-lines," Hoover muttered, shoulders slouching. "I'd rather just keep the Walls intact." He caught Annie's eye, then averted with a dry chuckle. "Like those conscientious objectors, right?"
Braun scowled. "Paradis already has walls, it doesn't need any more."
Of the graduates, only the top of their class went on to assume a Titan's power. They were part of a special unit called the Subjects of Ymir—an ironic holdover from the days of Eldian Restorationists. A Subject of Ymir would never tire or become ill, and could heal from any wound, even regenerate limbs. Unlike their Paradisian cousins, it was possible to retain one's humanity before and after transforming into a sentient Titan. For an Eldian, there was no greater act of atonement.
The Jaw; the fastest of all the Titans, but also the smallest, most frail. One shot from a cannon or anti-aircraft artillery and it was finished.
The Armoured; an offensive tank, slow-moving, but nearly impossible to damage with anti-aircraft fire when it crystallized its skin.
The Colossus; Slow moving and difficult to destroy through conventional weaponry, the best way to stop a Colossus was to allow it to burn itself out. Thousands of crystallized Colossi, standing shoulder to shoulder, made up the three Walls surrounding Paradis.
The Attacker; A prototype, made by combining the Armoured and original Attacker formula. Couldn't take as much physical damage, but could crystallize and command Titans over a very short distance. Usually given to female Warriors, granting it an informal epithet.
The Cart; required high stamina from its holder. Second fastest, next to the Jaw. Used primarily for support and reconnaissance missions.
The original Attacker; a prototype, used in the early years of the Titan Research Society. Tested on Eldian POWs and volunteers. Deemed to be unstable after repeated use and discontinued.
The Beast variant; classified, only afforded to elite Warriors.
The last two were special cases; Warhammer, inherited by the Tybur family inherited after agreeing to be Fritz's enforcers. The strongest of all variants, aside from the Progenitor. Progenitor; capable of erasing memories and commanding all Titans to the holder's will, at the cost of immense psychological and physical strain. The Marleyans claimed this was how Fritz erected the three walls. Only a descendant of Fritz's bloodline could use the Progenitor effectively.
For all Subjects of Ymir, regeneration put a massive strain on their body. This one time, during breakfast, Finger was quick to mention all the men in their twenties and late teens who kept cropping up Marley's psychiatric hospitals with irreparable nerve damage and second-degree burns. An uptick in front-line casualties, the official reports claimed. Chemical attacks at Fort Slava became a publicly acceptable euphemism. "Any doctor," she said, "would tell you the quickest way to euthanize a Warrior is to sever the brain's connection to the spinal column."
"What about lethal injections?" Braun asked.
"Death by firing squad?" said P. Galliard.
"Decapitation," Annie suggested.
Finger shook her head. "Injections won't work reliably, once the serum is in the body for long enough. In a lot of cases, rifles, hangings and beheadings only prolong their suffering."
Hoover looked pointedly down at his half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. His hands were trembling.
"Like breaking a bone until it's set in-place," Annie said.
Finger looked up. "Yes, precisely." She paused. "I can't think of a more terrible thing to do to someone, can you?"
The other cadets stared at Finger. Annie. "It makes no difference to me," she added. "We'll die sooner or later."
Finger said, "That's true."
By the end of the eighth week, the pool of potential candidates was down to ten. Braun was physically the strongest, but a mediocre shot with a rifle. In a classroom setting, he was excellent at regurgitating Marley's propaganda—the instructors suggested he consider a career in politics, and Braun always said thank you with his eyes on the floor, glassy.
When Braun was up to his knees in the mud, the only cadet who stopped to lend a hand up was Bertholdt Hoover. Commander Magrath commended Hoover for noticing Braun's distress, then lowered every cadet's score except Braun's for putting Hoover in jeopardy. On the front lines, they'd have been shot to pieces by then.
"Eighty six percent drop out rate," jeered P. Galliard when Magrath was out of earshot, prodding Braun in the chest, "so you'd better start trying harder unless you want to be Titan food in six years."
The Galliard brothers came from a military background, like Annie. M. Galliard was on pace to be the best in the class. Finger, despite being the weakest physically, managed to stay out of trouble with everyone, even P. Galliard.
Colt Grice mainly operated as a classroom instructor. He was more open to fielding questions than the Marleyan officers, as well as the Mid-Eastern Conflict.
Fifty years ago, the countries of Marley and Hizuru were caught in a territorial dispute with the Mid-Eastern Alliance over how to divide Paradis Island. When an Eldian named Karl Fritz gained control of the Progenitor, he used this power to turn all the Eldians on Paradis into mindless Titans. They eradicated Marley's naval forces in Lago and Liberio while Fritz seized control of Paradis, ready to claim dominion over those who would oppose him, until the Mid-Eastern Alliance suggested a treaty.
In return for political immunity, the Tybur family became Karl Fritz's enforcers, and behind closed doors, Marley inherited the power of the Titans. Marley's Public Security started rounding up Eldians and their sympathizers across the continent, and sending them back to Paradis to live with their brethren. Resources that should have gone to aiding civilians and their ravaged naval bases were funneled into the Titan Research Society. Under the guidance of Fritz, these Eldians would rebuild and repopulate what was lost in the initial conflict. By 1889, the walls around Paradis were erected. The Warrior program officially opened in Liberio to all healthy Eldian boys or girls, aged five to seven. The Public Security Authorities changed their statement. Eldian citizens willing to renounce their heritage were christened honorary Marleyans. The rest were sentenced to Heaven, set loose upon Paradis's beaches.
Today, it was estimated that one million men and women were still living in Paradis. The remnants of traditional Eldian civilization. "During the Mid-Eastern Conflict," Grice explained, "there were many reports of Titan sightings off the coast of Paradis. While we were on neutral terms, the Mid-Eastern Allies would send airplanes over, but those stopped after a few years after the ceasefire."
"They were making the Titans nervous, probably," Finger offered.
Galliard scoffed. No one else said anything.
"In order for the Eldians to accept their new life," Grice continued, "Fritz used the Progenitor's power to alter their memories. As far as anyone in Paradis knows, they have always lived within the three walls, safe from the Titans who devoured the rest of humanity. If they saw an airplane without any prior understanding," Grice said, "they might begin to formulate theories of their own. Best to negate that chance altogether."
"What does it matter?" snapped P. Galliard. "We should have sent more planes over and finished the job. Maybe then we'd have stopped the war."
"But Fritz could just wake all the Titans up and kill everyone," said Annie. "So there wouldn't be a home to return to."
Grice nodded. "Well said."
"Isn't that worse?" Hoover said. "Than killing them, I mean."
"They're lower than dogs," Braun said hotly. "Don't sympathize with them. As soon as they were able to, they were happy to slaughter their non-Eldian compatriots."
Hoover flinched slightly. "That's not what I meant," he mumbled, but Braun wasn't paying attention.
"It's a specialized unit of soldiers," Annie suggested. "For unique operations that a normal soldier can't accomplish."
Braun looked over sharply. "Warriors. Not soldiers."
Annie scowled. "It's a branch of Marley's ground forces. Subject of Ymir is what the Marleyans call you when they're dragging your family out into the street to be beaten. You might as well say you're no better than the Eldians in Paradis."
Braun stared at her as though she had just declared all of this about his mother. "It has nothing to do with Paradisians," he said tightly. "It's a sign of prestige. We use that power in ways they'll never be able to. I can't believe you'd make such a thoughtless comparison."
"She's from Nemus," Hoover piped up. Annie twisted around to get a look at his face. The way he blenched, he wasn't going to be any help.
"Of coure," said P. Galliard, turning around in his seat to face them, "I don't know how things are over in that part of the country. Maybe she's just ignorant. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it."
Braun's jaw twitched. The other cadets were watching. Annie said, "You're never going to get promoted if you keep sucking up to Marley. Even Braun knows that."
P. Galliard blinked. Forced a laugh. "Go to hell."
"You think I'm stupid, Leonhardt?"
"That's enough," said M. Galliard curtly. He looked at Annie. "Don't you two start."
"You all think I'm stupid," Braun snapped. "That I don't take this as seriously, well, maybe I'm the only one who sees these devils for what they are—"
"No one gives a damn," said P. Galliard.
Braun snapped to his feet, catching his knees on the edge of the desk. "You're always a goddam thorn in my side," he hissed, but his tone was uneven. "Marcel thinks it too. You ain't even got the aptitude for—"
P. Galliard's whole body poised as if a second from launching himself across the desk. Braun, twice his size, stared at Annie.
"The instructor's coming over," said Finger plaintively. No one was looking at her.
Grice was asking what the problem was.
Braun clenched, unclenched his fists. "Discussing the proper terminology of a Warrior, sir."
Was it true, Leonhardt, the instructor asked.
"Yes, sir."
They all had to do laps and write an additional essay on the historical difference between semantics for soldier and Warrior.
"Why'd he get so angry?" Annie muttered, leafing through the textbook.
"It's not a matter of justifying a title," Hoover said. "As Warrior candidates, we differentiate ourselves from the rest of Marley's military." He lowered his eyes to the page, as though deep in thought. "The Marleyans and Eldians have been fighting for a long time. It's not our concern who started the war, only continuing the ceasefire."
"You needn't worry about Braun," said Finger. "He and Pock are just competing for placement. We're all fighting against Eldia in the end."
Annie scowled at her notes. "Once you're on the front lines, it doesn't matter who proves himself the best loyalist."
Finger nudged her arm. "Don't take Pock too seriously. He's noisy, but he means well." Annie side-eyed Finger, who was gesturing to her notes. "There, you wrote down Marleyan Warrior when you meant soldier."
Annie checked. "Right." She crossed it out, hesitating. "Thanks."
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euterpe-of-hesiod · 6 months ago
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Class of '24 Yearbook Page: Linnet and the Thespian Society Creature Coven
*
From Ballad of the Linnet Bird:
Parts of high school were alright and parts of it were terrible, but the best part of high school quickly became Mr. Hornick and the theater department– Linnet’s true home and family. Turns out that in a big public high school like Linnet’s, people needed to find their people or you’d get eaten up. Most wanted to be in sports, because sports were cool– or in student government, because then you had power, even as a kid. Not many kids wanted to go into theater or the arts though. Those who did were considered strange.
Linnet quickly realized that was because– strange was code for magic. Not every theater kid was a magick, but most magicks in their high school ended up involved in some way or other, whether in tech, band, or the art classes, which helped with sets and costumes. 
In Linnet’s year, there was Ridge, a sparrow boy by half (his maw was fair) who was a maker like Linnet’s paw, and so he joined set crew.
 Then Delilah, another sorcerer who studied light as her element. She was on the tech crew, and also loved to paint in art class. 
Austin was the first medium Linnet ever met. When she first met him, he was quiet as church. But that was before she saw him on stage. You let him loose during improv exercises and he went nuts, letting his “freak flag wave” as he called it. He found a lot of inspiration from spirits he had met, so he said, and made a few set characters after his favorites. 
And of course, Samira and Linnet. No two were closer than them. If Linnet were the rushing river, then Samira was the sweet honeysuckle that grew on her banks. If Linnet were the busy bee, then Samira was the beautiful butterfly.  Linnet was bolder and brasher, but Samira was bubbly and funny, a chatterbox in her own way. When they got together, no one could stop them from jabbering like a pair of squirrels discussing the state of acorns. They talked over each other but never got mad because of it. In fact, ask Linnet and she would tell you they had a harmony together that only the two of them could hear. 
*
“We’re a coven,” Delilah had declared when she renamed their group chat, even though Ridge, Austin, and Linnet were not sorcerers. 
“The Weird Coven,” joked Austin. 
“Ooo, I kinda like that!” said Delilah.
“No, no, we’re the Cool Coven. Alliteration, people!” fussed Samira. 
“Creative Coven?” tried Delilah.
“Creepy Coven,” said Austin.
“Miss Spelling Bee can give us a good name,” Samira pointed at Linnet. 
Linnet popped her lips. “Creature Coven,” she said. “Cuz we ain’t all witches. We’re other things. Wild things, like in that one book.”
“Creature Coven. Alright, I like it,” Delilah said approvingly. “That’s us, y’all. You’re all my lil creatures.” She put an arm around Ridge and an arm around Samira and she gave them a squeeze. 
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raycalhoun · 6 months ago
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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒
Full Name: Raymond Dean Calhoun
Nickname(s): Ray
Age: 54
Birthday: July 16, 1970
Hometown: Rivershore, WV
Length of Time in town: Born here, left for college and some years later
Gender: Male
Pronouns: he/him
Orientation: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Divorced and weird
Occupation: Apiarist and Advice Columnist
Accent: Very southern accent
𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘
tw divorce
Raymond, affectionately known as Ray, grew up in a two bedroom dirt shack off the grid of Rivershore. His family were a small, mining family. They never really had much, and Ray remembers when his father was injured and couldn’t work. He remembers being hungry.
Being poor meant you had to have a work ethic. So, Ray studied hard and developed his skills. He was accepted into college and then medical school to be a psychiatrist. His mother wanted him to be a doctor, but the on call hours didn’t really call to him, so a doctor of the mind was something that could interest him.
In all honesty, Ray considered school a chore. He loves to learn, he loved to research and study, but the act of classrooms and other students was a chore. He met his wife to be in undergraduate, their romance was a whirlwind and before a year was up they were married. Their family went from two to three before Ray graduated his undergraduate. 
Medical school was a whirlwind of long hours and a toddler and many sleepless nights. He was poor again, and god he hated it. There were a lot of nights that he claimed he wasn’t hungry so that his wife and child were full. A quiet desperation set in, only the light at the end of the tunnel was graduation and his own practice.
Finally, he made it. He was able to open his own practice. His clinical practice was mindnumbingly boring — however, the money was excellent. His claim to fame and money was notonly his clinical prowess but also the series of teen fiction that he wrote and became a popular novel series in the early 2000s. The series went on to become a famous multi-movie franchise that he helped produce. 
As their influence grew with their wealth, Ray could only see more and more loss of what he valued: privacy. His wife, however, loved the parties, loved the influence, loved the culture. And in Lexington, Kentucky, there was plenty of it. Soon they were invited to all the old money parties, and derby parties. Ray, however, couldn’t stand it. He stopped attending too much of the society parties much to the chagrin of his wife.
When the divorce was served, Ray was almost relieved. Granted, she got half of his wealth and his practice. However, that gave him license to sell the practice. He moved back to Rivershore where he bought in a very modest home in the Valley that he still lives in today.
The obsession with bees was always there. He something of jumped into the idea of being an apiarist with both feet. It was full of trial and error, but he loved having something new. From there, he built a small honey and bee business where he rescues bee colonies and relocates them to his hives and then sells the honey at local markets. It makes just enough to sustain him.
About five years ago, the franchise of books that he built into an empire has come under fire from critics. Around the same time, the internet did what they did best and dug up dirt on him. Since then, he’s moved to being something of a recluse outside Rivershore. He has no online presence, but given his love for the written word, he writes an advice column where the townies of Rivershore send him letters, and he selects one letter a week to respond to and give advice. This column is, of course, written under a pen name. 
He’s something of a menace to the people of Rivershore - Ray has gotten his license taken away three times, and doesn’t have one, but he still drives. On Friday nights you can find him either hustling a game of pool or betting on the local high school game.
𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄
1970: Born
1988: Graduated High School
1992: Graduated College (likely met wife in college, they got married and had a kid in these 4 years)
1996: Graduated medical school
1998: Opened his own clinical practice / started writing book series
2001: First book went best seller
2009: Books into movies
2011: Divorce / moved back to Rivershore / started bees
2020: Started the advice column which is well known in the town
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qyxzun · 7 months ago
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𝟏 ┆𝕬𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝕯𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 almost caused an impossible amount of property damage. Numerous had minor injuries, while some were severely wounded, but overall, no deaths occurred. News reporters were at the scene, interviewing policemen, detectives, victims, and the public to inform others through television. Countless ambulances were parked nearby to help the wounded. People were divided, with numerous supporting your actions for saving them while others blamed you for the damages. Yet what made your head spin from confusion was how no one was talking about the other Spider-Man, Miguel. You knew he was there and that you weren’t imagining anything else. His ignored presence made it seem like the public never saw him, almost like a ninja undercover but a spider-man! The event covered each newspaper and channel and even started to gain more attention on online platforms. The raging public against you was making up crazy allegations in hopes you could be sued, making petitions in hopes of finding out your identity. Thankfully, it was just a small amount of them, mostly the politicians who wanted to give credit to the police. They’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side anyway, like those detectives who always tried to find any evidence on you but unfortunately found nothing.
It had been almost a full two months, and they still hadn’t gotten over it. Brooklyn Visions Academy has been closed since the incident to let students and faculty recover and rebuild the school. You, on the other hand, enjoyed the free vacation. There was no need to worry about exams or studies with the extra months off. The green creature caused a lot of damage, and the fire could’ve burned down the entire school. It was by chance that you got to save the victims, and you were thankful that Miguel showed up to help you, even if it was for a different cause.
It had been a full blast since the Spider-Man of Earth 928 invited you to join his spider-society. You learned a lot about it, as a rookie, when you started following him with the multiversal gizmo, the name of the watch. He founded it as an elite crew and began by recruiting other spider-people from other dimensions to assist him in removing anomalies, or people or things that were not intended to be in another universe.
You were shocked to see how many spider-variants he recruited before you. You believed it was already around twenty. But ever since you joined, the number of spider-men started to grow larger and larger. You met so many new friends, learning new techniques from them as well as forming new friendships. It was something you enjoyed; all of them—except for Miguel, were so much identical to you, even by personality. It created such beautiful diversity in his society, and you never felt more at home.
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone anymore, knowing you weren’t the only one, the only one to carry the great power and responsibility as a spider-variant.
Miguel became your inspiration. He was strong, yet he remained the very sarcastic and aloof person he was. He was a man of few words, but you wanted to learn more from him and become stronger like him. His efforts to recruit more spider-variants from various universes piqued your interest, and you wanted to help him. He occasionally allowed you to assist his multiversal policing mission as a co-leader. The multiversal gizmo he gave you would occasionally beep, as it was his only means of communicating with you from another dimension. To keep it short, you were getting the hang of this spider society and often went on missions with other spider-men.
A few of them were your age, and you grew to like them. One of them was Gwen Stacy. You found her cool for having an eyebrow piercing and for playing drums while in a band. She had pretty blonde hair with a hint of pink, but a portion of it was buzzed off, which she joked about because it happened when a spider-man from another dimension accidentally forced her to cut it. She always mentioned that Spider-Man was sweet, friendly, selfless, and such to you. Gwen was likeable and friendly as well, but at times.. seemed more tense when she talked about her problems with her dad and her best friend, Peter. She would frequently make light of it while you were concerned for her.
“But hey.. stuff happens right? Canon events and all that stuff…” Gwen would say, with an aloof yet recognizable anxious tone.
Canon events. It was the only thing you hated about the rules of the multiverse. You never had it stored in your mind, as it caused your head to hurt, your spider-senses to go haywire, and, overall, it hurt you on the inside. Every spider-man had to go through it. Even you. Every time the words canon event were spoken out of someone’s mouth, your stomach would drop slowly as you remembered your canon event.
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You were in the rain, fighting your nemesis, who claimed to be the Venom of your universe. He was an extremely difficult opponent ever to beat and you often came back home limping with blood stains dripping off your shirt while you tried to hide it from your parents. You could feel their worried expressions often behind you, resulting in you feeling guilty. You just wanted to pour out your problems to a person who could understand you. You already knew friends and family weren’t the answer. In this line of work as a hero, you always act alone. Always by yourself. Aside from your worries, you could’ve sworn.. every time you could manage to escape your nemesis, it was like you were on your last days on Earth.
After hours of fighting under a monsoon in a large, dark alleyway, you could remember vividly that the rain was pouring down on both of you while you were breathing heavily, exhausted, and injured. Your wrists started to bleed out of your spider suit while you continued to shoot webs the entire time you were fighting Venom. He was tossing you around, gripping your head and smashing it through walls. You often spat out so much blood through your mask that you could remember drinking a litre full of it. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, while your heart beat faster than a runner in a race. You clenched your fists as you felt the adrenaline in you, preventing you from giving up.
And in a fit of rage, you lost it. You remembered grabbing Venom’s forearm, gripping it so hard that you heard the host inside the creature’s bones shatter into pieces. You were silent during the entire fight; it wasn’t like any spider-variant. Usually, they’d make a sarcastic or humorous remark, but you weren’t playing around. You wanted him gone.
Venom’s limbs were tied individually to each wall of the alleyway’s buildings, as well as a tight noose formed by your webs on his neck supported by a billboard on top. He was weak for the first time in front of you. You couldn’t even take his presence anymore. You wanted him dead and gone, dismembered to the point where no one could ever find his body. You first pulled on all the webs to tighten their grip on him. They were thin enough to cut like a knife through his skin. His blood dropped down alongside the rain. After, you cut off all of them except for the one on his neck, leaving him to choke while you watched him suffer—the same criminal who killed one of your friends.
You remember him muttering your name, making you perplexed, but you were still heartless. You carelessly pulled his leg down as the venom’s skin started to melt. The gross substance ran down, staining you in the process before your eyes went wide. You quickly realized and as quick as you could, you cut the noose before his body collapsed onto yours.
“No.. no.. no… Peter, no,” you whimpered, cupping his beat-up face with your bloody glove. You quickly took off your spider mask. Tears built up in your eyes while you sniffled, and the blood from your nose dried. You caressed his cheek, moving any hair from his face in hopes of making him feel better. In his injured state, he slowly rested a hand on your soft-gloved fingers. When he saw your face, he couldn’t be more shocked. He winced as he tried to smile at you reassuringly, blood dripping from his mouth while his left bruised-up eye pulsed.
“I'm so sorry, Y/N… I.. I didn’t know you were spider-woman...” Peter blubbered, gripping your hand tighter. His hand slowly moved from your fingers to your face, cupping it as well while he wiped your fresh tears away before they could fall from your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful...” He admired you, smiling. He coughed out more blood, choking on the irony substance. He wanted to close his eyes but he hated the thought of leaving you. He tried to pull your face closer but most of his fingers were bent and broken. His consciousness drifted closer to leaving him. At least he could die in the arms of the one he truly loved.
“Parker, shut the hell up I’m getting you help, okay?! Don’t die on me!” You fussed, crying more as you wiped away the rain that poured down on his face. You brought his injured body into your arms. "No, no, no, please, Peter,” your sobs were muffled on his neck, your chest heaving as well. Your hand went to his wrist to quickly check his pulse, noticing it was already gone.
That night, a part of you died, knowing that your best friend, Peter Parker, was your nemesis and best friend all along. It was one of your canon events.
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In the early hours of Earth 926-Z’s New York, you were dozing off in one of your dorm’s couches with a blanket over your chest. You were too drowsy to pay attention to your gizmo which beeped again. The gadget vibrated on your wrist before its screen automatically flipped open as it activated the portal’s access. Some of your objects started to float before the familiar colourful hexagons were summoned as they started to circle. You put a hand over your eyes, groaning when the brightness annoyed you. You tried to get more sleep until you heard footsteps. When your spider-senses buzzed, you peeked through your fingers with your exhausted eyes.
“Heeey Y/N, just thought I’d drop by,” the familiar voice said. It was Jessica Drew, one of the spider-women of the spider-society. She looked down at you, who slept on one of your dorm’s couches, tired. She chuckled at how drowsy you were; it was understandable since you were out fighting and catching anomalies with Hobie last night.
“Told ya not to get overboard,” Another familiar voice said. Your tired eyes looked up and saw the mini Lyla, Miguel’s sassy but highly intelligent AI. She flashed a smirk with her small virtual body in the air next to Jessica’s head by a few inches. She adjusted her pink, heart-shaped glasses and glitched to get closer to your eyes. She tried to lift your eyelids open with her tiny hands. Jessica took small steps around the living room, seeing how messy but organized the room was.
You grumbled and tried to shoo her hologram away. “Ughhh.. what do you want…” you groaned, turning over the couch as Lyla glitched back next to Jessica. With a flick from her fingertips, the spider-woman shot her web and pulled you up effortlessly, making you sit up on the couch.
“Y’know the girl I recruited— and your friend, Gwen?” Jessica asked, looking down on you while you hummed in agreement shortly.
“Anyway, Miguel and I assigned her for a mission in Earth 1610B to catch another anomaly—well, technically just a villain from that dimension,” Jessica explained but paused, looking back to Lyla. With a clap of her tiny hands, your room went dark as she presented an orange virtual screen that was twice as big as the coffee table. It flickered, presented someone, and then began to play as Lyla carried on.
“This guy calls himself the Spot, and he recently just caused some havoc in Earth 1610B’s Brooklyn,” the small AI said as the video continued. The villain was faceless, with a black spot in the center of his face and numerous spots all over his body. Almost like a human...faceless cow? The screen was then flipped sideways, creating a three-dimensional hologram of the strange entity. You rubbed your chin, and even though you were really tired, you couldn’t help but become curious.
The hologram flashed brighter with a slight change of colour as it became bigger. The figure collapsed from the screen as all three of you watched how the scenery changed into the broken collider from Earth 1610B that Miguel told you about. The Spot’s holographic figure flickered out of nowhere again before you heard him speak.
“Look at me— you did this to me!!” The Spot yelled, his voice becoming more and more distorted as he began to charge into the spider-man and the officer beside him. You watched as the two of them were in a fighting stance until the Spot summoned a hole by accident, getting himself kicked by, well, himself. He made a slight oof sound, knowing it would’ve hurt a lot. He took a pretty big tumble as he slid in front of the two with his jaw on the floor before another hole was created, pulling him into the black abyss. The hologram then ended, going back to being a screen.
You rubbed your eye after you finished watching, bewildered but still drained. You looked back at Jessica and Lyla; the frizzy, curly-haired woman had a serious expression on her face, watching with an austere look on the Spot. It made you slightly tense like a kid seeing their mother angry. She looked back at you before her face softened as she sighed. You cleared your throat before speaking.
"So, uh, what does this have to do with me?” You asked, scratching your head out of curiosity.
"Well, Gwen knows her way 'round that world since she got pulled into that dimension before,” Jessica explained while she started to walk around your living room, viewing the decorations with an aloof stare.
"I know 'bout her lil' friend.. Miles, right? 'm pretty sure she told you 'bout him before.” she continued, looking back at you to see what you had to say. You just nodded while you watched her slowly move around the room, running her hand gently on the surface of your tables.
“The girl’s good at combat like any other spider-variant in the spider-society. I mean, I could’ve sent her hours ago, but, y'know, Miguel.” Jessica spoke before her eyes wandered back to you. “It honestly ain’t a surprise that he doubts her but this Spot dude is starting to concern Miguel. I’ve faith in Gwen, but Miguel still insisted on bringing another spider; he recommended you.” Your eyebrows rose as the pregnant lady turned back to you She cleared her throat, and she became more serious.
“So— an order from Miguel; you accompany Gwen to Earth 1610B and the two of you make sure the operation is a success.” She rummaged through her spider-suit’s pocket and tossed you something very small. You easily caught it and saw a tiny mechanical spider, its legs tucked into its body, with a funky logo on the iron skin, You assumed Lyla fabricated it. Jessica continued to speak. “Aaaand put that device near the Spot. Just put it somewhere he can’t find it,” she explained.
You looked down on the very tiny machine. “What does it do?” You asked. “It can track the person's whereabouts through the multiverse and scan their data; pretty cool, huh?” Lyla smiled, floating around in the air. You looked back at Jess, who had a serious look, but you could tell she wanted you to join. You sighed.
“Fineeee, I’ll do it,” you responded before standing up from the couch, opening your closet nearby to get your spider-suit. Lyla easily opened up another portal, causing a ruckus as some of your furniture started to fly around again. Jessica was about to step into the large floating and orange hexagons before she looked back at you, giving you a thumbs up and fully entering the portal. It closed on you as well as Lyla, who disappeared out of thin air.
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You travelled through space and time, bending the laws of physics as you travelled through the multiverse with speed faster than light. It was all blurry with only space and stars passing through you as well as the hexagons that led the way. It all started to clear when the matter itself tore apart, creating a hole. You blinked once before you finally saw yourself on Earth 928. You were spawned in the middle of the lobby as you easily used your webs to maneuver around and reach the cafeteria, where you'd meet Gwen. The familiar ginormous building would make a normal person pass out of confusion but it had what every spider-variant liked; a big space to swing freely, overpasses to walk on even when upside down, training programs, and even a therapy section for the spider-people who recently got their canon event.
You landed on the floor and looked around the large space, you spotted her sitting down next to a plant with her favourite pink cardigan and her watch flipped open. You snuck behind her while she looked down on the gizmo, scaring her in the process. She suddenly yelped.
“Jesus Christ—Y/N, that scared me.” Gwen sighed, while you laughed.
“My bad— your spider-senses didn’t go off?” you asked before she shook her head. Her expression then changed into a bright one.
“Can’t believe I’ll go back again!” Gwen smiled and giggled while you gave her a smug look. She slightly blushed before coughing. “T-To catch the Spot, duh,” she responded and looked away. You playfully rolled your eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you giggled. Your eyes wandered back to her flipped watch before they grew wide. “You serious? You got the two of you as your wallpaper too?” You teased before Gwen quickly flipped it closed, looking around frantically. It was the picture she showed you a long time ago when Gwen and her friend took a picture together while she ended up in the wrong dimension.
“Huh? Me? don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, playing dumb before she quickly opened up another portal using the gizmo. The bright orange hexagons grew bigger and rotated very slowly. The blonde-haired girl looked back at you excitedly. "C'mon, let’s go!” She smiled before stepping in, not giving you a chance to speak.
"Geez, I guess she really misses him,” you shrugged before jumping in as well.
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The afro-haired teen had his headphones on, trying to relax after a small argument with his parents. Now, he’s grounded but who do they think he was? He was spider-man for God’s sake. He can’t be grounded. Miles was lying down on his bed with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed and his head occasionally but slowly moved to the rhythm of his music, it was his comfort after all.
Yet he didn’t seem to notice some of his things started to float mid-air. They circled around his room before black bubbles and colourful light started to form just above him. The portal opened as it revealed you and Gwen. She had an excited look after seeing her friend near after two years. You, on the other hand, were just looking down, wondering when he’ll notice the two of you.
”Miles! Miles!” Gwen called out, trying to get his attention. In confusion, Miles slowly opened his eyes to the familiar voice. He thought he was seeing things until he did see Gwen. He quickly took off his headphones and sat up. “Gwen! H-How—” He stuttered, perplexed to see her after such a long time. She then dropped down next to him on his bed, her legs crossed.
“How’d you get here— oof-!” Miles tried to speak again until the blonde-haired girl quickly hugged him. He hugged her back as well, still bewildered. He then noticed you dropped down the portal as well. It closed before you landed on his floor easily, not making so much noise.
You took off your mask, revealing your face to him. You flashed him a small smile. Even though you knew why Miguel was infuriated when the name Miles would leave someone’s mouth, mostly Gwen, he was still another spider-man that you had respect for since he was Gwen’s friend. His mouth slightly gaped when he saw you.
“My bad, my bad, didn’t mean to appear all of a sudden,” you said before Gwen pulled away from the hug and introduced the two of you. “Y/N, Miles, Miles, Y/N,” She quickly said while you just nodded, His expression slightly softened as he just nervously smiled at you.
"Yeah, hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled.
“Nice to meet you too?” Miles nervously responded. Before it could get awkward between you three, you looked behind you, noticing his open bedroom window. You looked back at Gwen. “You can stay here, Gwen; I’ll handle things while you catch up with your friend,” you suggested while she stood up from the bed, puzzled.
“Wait— you sure? You know we can do that later.” Gwen said, referring to the mission, while you nodded your head, reassuring her by patting her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s alright,” you grinned, looking back at Miles and then at her. “Don’t want to miss this opportunity, no?” You teased, your hand slowly retracting from her shoulder while she slightly blushed. You turned back to his window, jumping off his bedroom window. You shot a web from your fingertips and quickly swung yourself away. Gwen watched while Miles looked out the window, his gaze finding you as he admired how quick and talented you were at moving swiftly through the air.
“Dang, she’s good,” Miles pointed out while Gwen nodded, looking back at Miles as the two of them smiled. They were happy to see each other again after so long.
Meanwhile, you continued to swing away until you were out of sight of any civilians as you climbed up a high building. You were standing by the edge of the building’s roof, walking around as you looked over to your watch to see where this Spot could be. You sighed and took off your mask, slightly frustrated to not find anything before Lyla’s hologram appeared out of sight.
"Heeeey, Y/N, how’s the mission?” She asked with a grin, spinning on her virtual chair, which was the same size as hers. You grumbled.
“I can’t find the Spot’s location,” you admitted, sighing from how annoyed you were. “Got any idea where he could be?” You asked the AI before she hummed, thinking about it with her tiny finger tapping on her chin. Her hologram flickered before she summoned a 3D model of the entire map of Earth 1610’s Brooklyn with all of its avenues, streets and even shop names. She zoomed into the new hologram, revealing a building made out of bricks under a few overpasses. A few other shops surrounded it, as well as a small highway. Some of its windows were oddly broken and covered with a partially dirty cloth as a barrier.
The small AI manipulated the three-dimensional screen easily, zooming into the broken glass as the screen changed again. Inside the building was a messy room, with wires, confusing machines, and more technical equipment around the shelves and floor. The room was completely unorganized and clearly dimly lit.
“Looks like he worked for Alchemax before,” Lyla pointed out, taking a look at the equipment. "Even one of them has a logo," she observed as she leaned down to inspect the equipment components.
“Is this the Spot’s place?” You asked, then returned your gaze to the floating AI. She nodded her head in response.
“Scanned the area earlier when I zoomed in and saw his driver’s license on the table. It’s expired, but got his information,” she explained, her tone playful as if she found it all too easy. She then displayed a screen of an image of the Spot’s driver's license it had his name, age, address and more information. With two of your fingers, you zoomed out of that screen as you looked back at the hologram of the building, which you concluded to be his apartment. “Plus— the area’s full of dark matter,”
“I’ll get going,” you responded once you had your information, sliding your mask back onto your face before the hologram flickered to a close.
“Bu-byeeee~” Lyla grinned before her figure also disappeared. You flipped the watch back to a close before you swiftly jumped down the building and shot a web mid-air, propelling yourself to the Spot’s location.
You jumped from the tall skyscraper while shooting webs into the air to propel you into the sky without attracting any attention. The cool air hit your masked face until you descended, turning gracefully but quickly onto the roof of the building. You walked to the edge and stuck to the wall to get inside through the broken glass.
You slipped in easily as you observed the area. It was an apartment room. Though it was dimly lit, you noticed papers scattered on the table, some of them close to falling down. You lifted your mask up to your head to get a clear view of your surroundings, some of your bangs escaping to the sides of your face and forehead. With your gloved hands, you picked up the papers, skimming through them.
Reports, hypotheses, notes, and more... one thing they all had in common was a connection to multiverse matter or the concept of bringing back different entities from other universes. They weren’t all from Johnathon, aka Spot necessarily, most of them were reported by different scientists, especially from the well-known Olivia who was the head of the whole collider project back then, which caused a misbalance in the entire multiverse. You threw the papers back onto the table's surface before looking around again. You noticed some mechanics in the corner, concealed by a metallic closet. You leaned down and picked one up, noting that it also had the Alchemax logo until you noticed a small post it attached to the back. You ripped it off the mechanic, reading it.
“This isn’t the villain of the week—maybe five months, but still…” you mumbled, pulling your mask back on before you rummaged through your pockets, taking out the small spider Jessica gave you earlier. It automatically opened and summoned out its miniature legs after you tossed it against the wall. It then dug its legs into the brick and camouflaged really well.
“Gotta alert Gwen about this..” you mumbled. You quickly flicked a web out of your fingertips as it shot through the window. You flew out once again, swinging away faster and faster. You were again back in the metropolitan area, gliding through the air while your eyes wandered around trying to find Gwen. You assumed she was still at Miles’ apartment.
You swung down when you saw his apartment complex, noticing on the building’s rooftop there was loud music and lots of parked cars outside next to the road. You guessed that his family had a house party; the familiar smell of Puerto Rican food may sound good, but you knew you had to find Gwen quickly. When you landed back on the wall, you peeked through Miles’ bedroom window only to find no one inside, only Gwen left her cardigan on his bed.
“Fuck— where is that girl?” You sighed, shooting out another web atop the building beside his apartment. You gracefully landed on its rooftop before you flipped your watch open, trying to contact her. Unfortunately, it showed a hologram that said contact is on; do not disturb.
You grew more frustrated before turning the hologram to a close. You sighed and paced around on the rooftop. You wondered where she could be. Confused, you opened your gizmo back up again, speaking through Lyla.
“Hey Lyla- sorry to interrupt, got any idea where Gwen is? If so just send the coordinates, I can handle it,” you spoke as the AI’s hologram flickered again. She tried to find her location via watch but then she sighed.
“Sorry Y/N, she’s on do not disturb apparently,” the brunette replied before you grunted. “Can you turn it off?” You asked until she shook her head no. “Nah, I can’t get deactivate anything during a mission, just the policy aaand, you know, Mig’s rules,” She explained while you got more frustrated.
“How is that even a thing— what the hell..” you groaned. “Can you ask Miguel to let this be an exception?” you questioned Lyla again. “Miguel’s not in right now, busy with another mission,” she responded.
“Knew you’d say that.. always the busy guy.. whatever, thanks Lyla,” you sighed before she disappeared once more, leaving you alone once more on the rooftop. You were so frustrated by Gwen’s absence; where the hell could she be? If not with Miles then where was she? Your thoughts came to a halt when your spider-senses made you turn around. You noticed someone dressed as spider-man with a black and red coloured suit. You raised an eyebrow as you walked over to them discreetly.
They noticed you as their spider-suit’s goggles slightly widened. “Woah- you got fast spider-senses,” the recognizable voice said, staring at you.
“Wait— Miles?” You asked before he nervously chuckled and took off his mask in front of you, his Afro popping out as he looked more buff with the black spider-suit on. It matched him a lot. “What’re you doing here?” You curiously asked, also taking off your mask to see him clearly.
“Me and Gwen was swingin’ around the city and just wanted to let you join,” he responded, looking down at you since he was taller. “We didn’t get a proper chance to talk right? Just wanted to make ya feel included..” he continued, noticing how he was getting nervous when he noticed you didn’t respond.
“Sorry— kinda busy..” you mumbled, looking back down to your watch to see if Gwen finally put that stupid do not disturb function off. She unfortunately didn’t. You were always the chatty type but now wasn’t the time now that you were dealing with a soon-to-be anomaly who knows how to travel through other dimensions. Miles’ eyes softened, he just really wanted to be accepted as another spider-man or as a friend.. but you had other priorities. He was disappointed but hid it well enough, not wanting to worry you. He was silent until he had an idea in mind.
“With what? I mean I can help ya. I know Brooklyn like the back of my hand,” Miles stayed optimistic, wanting to be of assistance. You already knew about Brooklyn's map thanks to Lyla, but you could see that despite not knowing anything about you, he merely wanted to help. You could see yourself in him, as you would always strive to help Miguel in any way you could, even though he was the epitome of independence. Miles also wanted to prove his usefulness in this society Gwen just recently talked about while the two of them were swinging through the city… so he could see her more often... but oh how difficult would it be for him? He spotted the gadget on your wrist and then pointed to it.
“Yeah- uh.. pretty crazy phenomenon right? Travelling to a different universe without your atoms glitching like crazy..” you responded, showing him your wrist as he came closer.
“How’d you get this?” He asked, his hands slowly inching closer to yours to hold the watch with his fingers. You almost flinched and he noticed. Ever since your canon event, you could never rest easy with physical touch.
“You good Y/N?” He inquired, a little worried as his fingers almost retracted. You shook your head.
“Sorry, sorry— my bad, but I’m okay don’t worry bout it,” you reassured as you moved your wrist closer to him, letting him hold your hand to inspect the watch. “As for how I got it.. from where we’re from, we earn them,” you answered truthfully. His hand moved from your forearm to your hand, gently holding it up. You also couldn’t help but notice how his thumb slowly caressed your knuckles, was he trying to be nice or was it just out of habit? You definitely had no clue.
“Who gave it to you?” Miles replied, still holding your hand delicately. He seemed so interested in its design and advanced technology on the orange screen. It resembled to nothing from his dimension nor has he seen anything like it. So small yet intriguing.
“My mentor, Miguel O’hara,” you answered. “He’s like the leader of the entire spider-society Gwen and I are in. It’s pretty cool if you ask me,” you rambled, sharing more than enough.
“Gwen never told me about it..” He muttered, carefully tapping a few buttons to see its functions. You couldn’t see his expression since his head was down, still looking at the screen, before he faced you with a small smile. “What’s it gonna take for the Miguel O’hara to meet Miles Morales?” The tall black teen joked but genuinely asked. You on the other hand didn’t know what to say. There was an explanation for why he couldn’t join but you didn’t want to cause any trouble between the two of them. You gulped down the built-up saliva in your mouth out of nervousness.
“I mean.. if you tryna join… how about we try to catch some criminals on the way while we try to find Gwen? I’m not like- fully certain but maybe after I can put in a good word?” You suggested to try and change the topic as you put your forearm down once he was done inspecting the gizmo. Miles’ smile grew, he wasn’t opposed to the idea and wanted to get to know you better. “Sure, why not? Watch me put ‘em in place,” He replied with a confident smirk before you chuckled.
Your watch then beeped. Your back faced him as you turned around to check what news it had for you. The spider that camouflaged into the wall was recording the Spot’s messy apartment and analyzing his figure. You turned it into a mini hologram, watching in full effect what was happening in that room.
The Spot was walking around in his room, moving box from box to a specific area with mechanics and more collider parts you recognized.
“Oh shit..” you cursed under your breath when you saw how close he was to building the mini-collider.
“Everything okay?” Miles asked, about to peek over your shoulder before you quickly moved away. He slowly retracted, noticing how you flinched as if you were uncomfortable, but you weren’t focused on him anymore.
“Gotta go for now Miles, we can fight those criminals later alright? Sorry ‘bout the trouble,” you apologized quickly as you then put your mask back on. You approached the ledge of the rooftop and were about to jump off the building to swing to the Spot’s location immediately. A frustrated and concerned look was on Miles’ face. The young spider-man just wanted to help yet you continued to push him away. With an annoyed expression, he watched you leave so quickly with your webs. You were so quick, agile and so elegant in the air that he could tell you were much more experienced than him despite being the same age.
Once he was far enough for you to notice, he shot webs and swung himself in your direction almost immediately. It started to get dark as his black spider-suit blended in well with the atmosphere. The black lenses on his mask narrowed as he was more focused on catching up on you. Miles wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Gwen didn’t come back just to visit him, there was at least something else you and her had to worry about.
He saw you shooting out multiple webs under a metro railway from your fingertips as you pulled yourself up with the almost transparent strong strings. Like a flash of light, he saw you dash through in between a train’s cabins. Miles almost thought you got run over until he swung over the railway, you weren’t there like you disappeared. “Damn this girl’s fast…” Miles grumbled, trying to retrace his steps while looking around to try and find you. His stomach dropped at the thought of you finding out he was following you so he turned invisible quite easily just to make sure.
Even when invisible, it seemed like you didn’t let your guard down at all as he still couldn’t find you. He kept asking himself where you could possibly be or why you were here in the first place. There was something wrong but he had no clue of what it could be. He tried to retrace your steps by finding your webbing but they all disintegrated too fast. They’d all fall on the ground and slowly disintegrate since you were in the wrong universe. Frustrated, he almost thought of turning back and going back home until he noticed someone swing through the air as well. He saw the familiar spider-suit, it was Gwen.
Her mask concealed her face as she landed near a pillar supporting the overpass close to the Spot’s apartment. A few meters away, Miles landed on top of a street lamp, discreetly looking at the situation beforehand. There were corps surrounding the apartment with lights flashing to the holes in the walls.
“Shoot..” Gwen mumbled under her breath, in worry she was too late. She rapidly shot a web into the police officer's car, causing it to reverse before swinging inside the building with ease. Miles, on the other hand, quickly followed.
Inside the apartment was a whole mess, messier than before like a tornado merely broke down the building. Gwen stepped inside, looking around to find out what happened with a concerned look behind her mask. She then proceeded to scan the area using the multiversal gizmo while Miles hid behind the air ducts, making sure he wasn’t under the orange light that could point him out.
She looked around, noticing the Spot’s personal belongings like a portrait with Olivia, the spiders he brought from different dimensions, and such. When the scanning was finally complete, the spider-woman then started to replay the entire scenario. The orange light orbs turned back in her direction as they flickered a display of holograms in front of her to show what just happened. “Oh no no no..” She mumbled under her breath as she watched the scene play out visually while Miles carefully eavesdropped.
“Just need to get somewhere with a full-sized giant collider..” The Spot talked to himself as he continued to assemble his small micro-collider. It started to power up, creating dark energy from its sources. “Alriiiight, this’ll work, it’ll be good!” The faceless human optimistically said as he prepared to put his index finger into the dark matter the mini-collider was forming. He whistled as he was about to put it in until he stopped. “Or- I don’t know, might vaporize me and this entire building, which would not be good” He carelessly shrugged.
“Oh shoot..” Gwen muttered while Miles continued to watch as well, witnessing how far his villain of the week was going just to defeat him. They saw how he was getting so close to inserting his finger through the dark hole until multiple webs were wrapped around him, quickly taking him down.
You swung through the mess as you appeared just in time before the Spot could ruin himself with the dark energy. With a quick tug of your webs, you pulled him up from the floor and threw him at the other side of the room with only your hand. The Spot was launched back, breaking multiple walls in the process before he groaned in pain and looked up at you. “Wait— huh? Spider-man? But a woman?” he asked, perplexed as he thought you were his original nemesis. You had your back turned, paying attention to the collider more than him.
“Fuck this is dangerous..” Your eyes narrowed at the sight of the dark matter almost consuming the entire mini-collider, making it impossible to turn it off or break. You were about to inspect it until a sudden punch to the stomach made you nearly spit out saliva out of your mask. It just came out of nowhere through the black hole in front of you. You grunted when you realized it was all Spot’s doing.
“Yeah— sorry, can’t turn it off now huh?” the Spot laughed before it teleported so quickly behind you. His arm then made its way to your neck before he lifted you off the ground, making you choke. “Let go of me weirdo!” you yelled and rapidly kicked him off of you, causing him to almost lose balance. He growled under his breath, sick and tired of being tossed around like a weakling.
Creating a portal, he aggressively punched you through it before you stepped back once it hit your stomach again. He teleported back in front of you when you knelt down and held your stomach in pain. You tried crawling away until he grabbed your neck and shoved you down the floor repeatedly. “I’m tired of being treated like a fucking joke.” He spat as his voice turned deep, distorted and twisted. You winced, trying to push him off with your hands until he gripped your wrists as well. He saw how you had a weird watch on your wrist until his attention turned to the small gadget.
“Ohhh.. what’s that? Pretty interesting..” He sarcastically pointed out before he punched its screen. “Oops,”
“N-No!” You screamed when you saw its screen broken. The gadget started to malfunction, making distorted sounds as well.
“N-nnggh.!” You yelped when he choked you while lifting you up again. He threw you to the wall as you landed on top of the table full of collider parts that pierced through your skin. The Spot then turned back to the mini collider, shoving his hand into the dark energy. It started to absorb him as it generated more spots on his body. You tried to shoot webs to pull him back from the dark power until he was completely absorbed, pulling you into the void as well.
“Shoot..!” Gwen widened his eyes in fear as Miles continued to watch your hologram get sucked in by the dark matter. Once you were pulled in, the replay was complete.
“Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!” The spider-woman panicked, realizing how bad the situation was. You were in another universe, with no gizmo to help you call for backup nor any help. It was only a matter of time until you would suffer from glitching.
‘Y/N..’ Miles thought of your name, concerned and puzzled of why Gwen was panicking like crazy. She was shaking her head, trying to deny that wasn’t what happened until she took off her mask, breathing heavily out of panic.
With a problem like this, she definitely didn’t know how to solve it..
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You blinked in and out of consciousness before you tried to get up only to collapse back to the floor when your back ached. You looked behind you and saw what you were crashed into, a truck. You looked up as you saw it was raining steadily. That was weird, you don’t remember it already raining when you just collapsed for a minute.
Once you managed to sit up, you realized this place wasn’t familiar at all. You shot a web as you landed on top of a building where you could see everything. But in the end, you didn’t understand.. why was the billboard Japanese.? Or why were there so many Japanese commercials on the skyscraper screens?
“Where am I?”
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𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.
———
author’s note: this is so goddamn tiring to make Jesus Christ 💀💀 reblogs r very helpful since they keep me motivated to keep going alrr hope y’all enjoyed the first chapter. Second one will probably be a bit rocky idk.
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lcngliive · 9 months ago
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Was that [SADIE SINK]? Oh no no, that was just [ANNIE JAMES], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [THE PARENT TRAP]. They are [EIGHTEEN] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.
how long has your character been here
just a little over three years now. 
what is your character’s job
she’s currently working part time at a small fashion boutique where she sells some of her designs while she’s finishing up university. has also started a tiktok where she sells some stuff and takes commissions.
where has your character been pulled from in their fandom
just after her eighteenth birthday.
has any magic affected your character
nope! she still remembers everything.
and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!
okay this is annie! she’s pulled from a few years after the events of the parent trap, so she’s a bit older now than what she was in the films, but boy is she still a menace to society!! 
annie grew up separated from her twin sister, due to their parents breaking up and each taking one twin with them.
this all changed when she went to a summer camp in america, and she met hallie aka the devil incarnate, not knowing that they were twins lmao.
 they eventually figured it out and hatched a plan to fool their parents into thinking that annie was hallie and hallie was annie so they could both meet the other parent. 
but that eventually fell through when their parents, or annie’s grandfather in hallie’s case figured out that they had switched. 
all things ended up happily ever after tho bc her parents got back together and annie and hallie didn’t have to separate again! 
annie decided to follow in her mothers footsteps and pursue a career in the fashion industry. 
she’s just in the middle of finishing her degree at university and now currently works in a small boutique in the city where she sells some of her designs, she also has a website set up that she sells things on as well.
in her spare time, annie helps out at local theatres and fashion shows that need extra seamstresses, just to hopefully get her name out there. 
she also donates a lot of her fancier dresses to local schools around prom time just so that people who need dresses can get some nice things and also offers to do alterations or make specific requests.
she’s started her own tiktok, with the help of her sister and is now promoting her designs on there and also on instagram - she was reluctant at first, but now she loves it lmao.
potential plots
some close friends - annie only really has her sister here in the city, so some close friends would be a good thing for her!
ex boyfriend/girlfriend - this could be something that was left on good terms or it could have been messy??? down to plot something out
friends from university - can be from the same course as she was doing or it could be people she would have befriended in the library or the campus
a potential relationship - this would probs be a slowburn type of thing, but she’s open to anything bc she’s bisexual ??
0 notes
kobiiioo · 1 year ago
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lihan's mj and his lore (spidersona, spiderverse related)
what do i even say. where do i even start. *sobbing violently*
it's crazy because after designing MJ i've been more obsessed with him and lihan than my hobie x lihan ship. however that doesn't mean imma GIVE UP ON HOBIE X LIHAN BECAUSE THEY ARE MY HAPPINESS !!!!! and MJ already has his ending soooo haha (Imfao bye ✌️😘) (actually no it's sad). anw so first INTRODUCTIONNNNN
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here's a character sheet i made especially for MJ because he's a precious baby who just need to hear comforting words and a tight hug 🫂 i have so much to talk about this character that only exists in my head but him, just his existence, he is such a tragic and sad character and it genuinely makes me ill and sick because i feel so much pity for him (I CREATED YOU F*CK.)
character introduction:
Minjun aka MJ was well known at school for his looks and his extroverted personality but also worldwidely. He's after all a national team player in korea's biggest basketball team and his sweet demeanor and charming smile was simply a "+" making him even more attractive than he already is. He was basically the popular boy in the whole school that everyone knows when his name was mentionned. Anybody would fall for him; so did Lihan.
He was her first love, her first boyfriend, her endgame.
That's what she thought; her endgame. But she was wrong. Things went differently than expected. If she knew the consequences of what was coming next, maybe she would've never made the same choice. But as Lihan says to herself, even though meeting MJ was maybe a mistake, she would make that same mistake in every universe, fall in love with him and lose him, all over again. Because that's their destiny and they were never meant to be.
MJ's lore:
MJ was raised in a rich and strict family that had too much expectations for him. He tried his best to reach their expectations, following the future they had already planned for him, listening to their wishes and simply obeying, without complaining. Nobody knew that he put a mask to hide his flaws, his background, his true-self, how vulnerable he actually was. And since he cared so much about how people saw him and his image in the society was too important, he had no choice but to always put an act. He needed stability, he needed security, and he did had those. He went to a good school, he had lot of "friends", his family was wealthy, he was good at school, he was popular/a celebrity, everyone loved him; he had a successful life. His life was "perfect".
But that's only what others saw in him. Everything was superficial.
The so what called "stability" and "security" he had was only objective but not subjective. He was fighting alone his internal conflict, not daring to ask for help and simply numbing all the pain and suffering he was going through. No one knew that everything was pushing him over the edge. Keeping that persona to please people by showing them a fake side of him that everyone admired and loved was simply getting to him. He thought no one would ever love him for who he is. He was done. He wanted to end things at this point. Everything seemed meaningless. He had no dreams, no will, everything was planned since the day he was born. So what is the point ? He thought to himself.
That's when he met Lihan.
And everything changed. She was the last spark of light from a dying fire that was about to put out but only grew bigger and bigger. It was a simple question that he had asked her.
“Hey, sorry. Can you pass the ball ?”
Who would have thought that one simple question will lead him to actually gain interest in her (will write more context of this specific dialogue and their first meeting on another post). She was so simple, quiet, unoriginal with a bland personality. There was nothing about her that made her special or out standing. She was nothing and far from exceptional. That’s what everyone thought. But she was definitely something else in MJ’s eyes. He saw something in her that nobody saw. Her indifference was what was making her different. That’s what made her more special. That’s what made her stand out more than others. She was unusual. It was such an unexpected meeting. Everything about her was so interesting to MJ. He had never felt such joy or take genuine interest getting to know someone. She was his last light of hope he had. She had become the reason he could keep going with his life. It felt like things were just going to be fine if they stayed together, forever.
But as time flew by, things were changing. Not in the good way. It was going the opposite way. It was only getting worse. The relationship was becoming more and more unbalanced. He was too dependent. He was selfish and lost. And she was as lost as he was. And he had totally destroyed her.
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here’s a doddle of mj x lihan and how their relationship looked when they used to date (because WELL I THINK YALL GUESSED WHAT HAPPENS NEXT).
i have sooo much more to talk about him and his relationship with lihan AUHAGSUAG he’s probably one of the most interesting character i’ve created until now (jk lwe love lihan),(but still mj is such an interesting character in her universe) but i will talk about this on another post since this is simply an introduction of mj and i want to bring him more often on my posts (including tiktok). anw.. thanks for reading this silly writing of my ocs 🫶🫶
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infcinity · 2 years ago
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was that [LUCA HOLLESTELLE]? oh no no, that was just [ANNIE JAMES], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [THE PARENT TRAP]. they are [EIGHTEEN] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.
how long has your character been here
just a little over three years now. 
what is your character’s job
she’s currently working part time at a small fashion boutique where she sells some of her designs while she’s finishing up university. has also started a tiktok where she sells some stuff and takes commissions.
where has your character been pulled from in their fandom
just after her eighteenth birthday.
has any magic affected your character
nope! she still remembers everything.
and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!
okay this is annie! she’s pulled from a few years after the events of the parent trap, so she’s a bit older now than what she was in the films, but boy is she still a menace to society!! 
annie grew up separated from her twin sister, due to their parents breaking up and each taking one twin with them.
this all changed when she went to a summer camp in america, and she met hallie aka the devil incarnate, not knowing that they were twins lmao.
 they eventually figured it out and hatched a plan to fool their parents into thinking that annie was hallie and hallie was annie so they could both meet the other parent. 
but that eventually fell through when their parents, or annie’s grandfather in hallie’s case figured out that they had switched. 
all things ended up happily ever after tho bc her parents got back together and annie and hallie didn’t have to separate again! 
annie decided to follow in her mothers footsteps and pursue a career in the fashion industry. 
she’s just in the middle of finishing her degree at university and now currently works in a small boutique in the city where she sells some of her designs, she also has a website set up that she sells things on as well.
in her spare time, annie helps out at local theatres and fashion shows that need extra seamstresses, just to hopefully get her name out there. 
she also donates a lot of her fancier dresses to local schools around prom time just so that people who need dresses can get some nice things and also offers to do alterations or make specific requests.
she’s started her own tiktok, with the help of her sister and is now promoting her designs on there and also on instagram - she was reluctant at first, but now she loves it lmao.
POTENTIAL PLOTS
some close friends - annie only really has her sister here in the city, so some close friends would be a good thing for her!
ex boyfriend/girlfriend - this could be something that was left on good terms or it could have been messy??? down to plot something out
friends from university - can be from the same course as she was doing or it could be people she would have befriended in the library or the campus
a potential relationship - this would probs be a slowburn type of thing, but she’s open to anything bc she’s bisexual ??
0 notes
avayarising · 1 year ago
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– @fantastic-nonsense
@lynzine germane to a conversation we were having recently.
The options for Martha very closely match what I was thinking, particularly the idea that she kind of goes stealth after her marriage. Though I also wondered whether it might have to do with a falling-out with Jacob.
(Alfred is so Anglican it hurts, and accepts Episcopalian as the nearest equivalent. He might at least initially be more comfortable going to a different church from his employers though. I imagine the Waynes going to the big grand one and Alfred going to a smaller Episcopalian church elsewhere in Gotham.)
I love the idea that the Batfam as a whole is a multifaith family. All of the above for Bruce is good, and personally I rather like the thought that he starts out a vague and indifferent Episcopalian but after he connects/reconnects with Kate he begins to take more of an interest in his Jewish heritage and finds all sorts of ideas he resonates with.
Plus:
Vaguely Catholic-heritage Dick: his parents had their own thing going on, in the caravan a kind of Orthodox/Catholic hybrid but attending whatever the nearby church was on any given week, and he was baptised Catholic because that’s what the religion was in the area they were in at the time. He doesn’t practice and if you ask him what his faith is he’ll laugh it off, but deep down he grieves because he doesn’t remember or never knew a lot of the details of his parents’ faith and culture and all he has of it now are remnants.
Quaker Babs: Her dad’s a Methodist, but after she was shot she got a lot of help, therapy, and practical support from an organisation run by the Society of Friends.
Extremely Catholic Jason: before Bruce, he grew up with the Italian (or possibly Hispanic) flavour of Catholicism that’s local to the Crime Alley area, but he only really started taking it seriously a while after he came back from the dead and returned to Gotham, as a way of coming to terms with what happened to him, helping him to heal and giving himself a path forward.
Jewish Tim: both his parents were Jewish, but not particularly religious ones, and the boarding schools Tim went to didn’t particularly cater for Jews either. So he is rather estranged from his heritage. They never got round to arranging his Bar Mitzvah before his mother died and his father got put in a coma, and by the time he woke up Tim didn’t want to bring it up. But there’s a part of him that would like to be more observant, would like it to mean more to him, though he’s hesitant to admit it. (Maybe at some point he’ll bring it up with Aunt Kate.)
Culturally Christian but unchurched Steph: none of her family has had much to do with any faith for a long time, and she enjoys the secular versions of the holidays and leaves it at that. You can’t exactly see what the Batfam has seen and not believe in the existence of powerful spiritual entities, but she doesn’t think there’s much point in actually trying to worship anything.
Doing her own thing Cass: she wasn’t brought up to any faith, obviously, but she likes the idea of spirituality, and after she joins the family she sometimes likes to accompany other members of the family to their celebrations or places of worship, and sometimes explores on her own.
Pentecostalist Duke: Not just because Pentecostalist churches are traditionally Black, but I also can imagine that Duke’s mother Elaine, fleeing a powerful immortal entity, might turn (or return) to a church with a focus on the power of the Holy Spirit and an emphasis on fighting the spirits of evil, in hopes of God’s protection. Perhaps she met her husband there. Does Duke feel God failed his parents?
Questioning Damian: Damian was brought up in a cult that probably originally derived from a heretical Islamic sect. He has rejected that cult but feels guilty about the fact that there were practices of prayer and worship that he valued and still misses. He will probably develop his own spirituality in secret, despite wanting a community, because he has a fear of religion being used to control him. It would be nice to think that he would eventually find comfort in a more mainstream Islam.
If that seems an unlikely proportion of people engaged with a religious faith, remember that in their world there is a lot more empirical evidence of otherworldly goings-on, and I’d expect people in general to be a lot more religious because of that.
Bruce Wayne: any religion you want, really
So for Reasons, I had to figure out Bruce Wayne’s religious affiliations or lack thereof. The resulting tangle was impressive, and mostly left me going, “Comics authors sure fail to think through the implications of their backstory decisions a lot!” I meant to do a full fancy post with a dozen citations. I have misplaced all of those citations and the hour has come, so I’m going to wing it and tell you what I’ve got with no evidence whatsoever. Anyone who wants to throw them on in replies (either “here’s the issue where” or “here’s a good clearinghouse article”) is obviously welcome.
1) The Waynes (historically) are definitely Episcopalian, both by the general religious affiliations of their location/race/class and the crosses in most depictions of his parents’ graves.
2) Frank Miller made him Catholic. But Frank Miller makes a lot of people Catholic. Most people who make him Catholic do so via his mother, and let Thomas Wayne stay Episcopalian.
3) Kate Kane is Jewish. Kate Kane, his cousin via his mother’s brother, is practicing Jewish with Jewish parents and had a Bat Mitzvah and everything. Kate Kane is almost definitely Jewish via a family tree that makes Bruce Wayne matrilineally Jewish, and the nature of that inheritance is he doesn’t have to claim it if he doesn’t want to, but yeah, he is as Jewish as he says he is. Even if he wakes up tomorrow feeling Jewish and has never said it before in his life.
4) Bruce Wayne claimed in a 2018 comic to have ditched faith when his parents died, so he can also be as atheist as you want him to be.
5) Bruce Wayne did the whole world-tour weeks-of-silent-meditation thing, so if you want him to have latched onto Zen philosophy, it’s entirely defensible; it doesn’t require belief in any new gods and the principle of Right Action is very large in his life whether or not he formally subscribes to it.
None of these things have to conflict except possibly “which one he subscribes to at this exact moment,” and even then several of them can stack. The stickiest possible point is his mother’s faith, and this is the very easy path that makes all of these things true, courtesy of my nerdy Canadian first reader, Maribou:
In Montreal in particular, and many other cities in general, there are both large Catholic and large Jewish populations, which were crammed close together by societal prejudice for a long time and which had multiple wealthy and powerful families of their own even under that stress, such as the Bronfmans. There were a lot of intermarriages, and a common result was children being encouraged to choose a religious path after a thorough education in their parents’ options. (Basically, “It’s time to schedule either your Confirmation or your Bat Mitzvah, which venue should we book?”)
So a Bronfman woman and a Kane man could easily have married and had a bunch of kids including Martha Kane and Jacob Kane. Martha may (or may not!) have picked a Confirmation. Jacob definitely picked a Bar Mitzvah. All of these things can be true.
When I was discussing this with a Jewish person, she said she knew of a relative of exactly Martha Wayne’s (original) generation who was practicing Jewish until her marriage to a Protestant and then just… never talked about it again. If she practiced, she practiced privately. It disappeared utterly from her public life. That was a not-uncommon occurrence in that era.
The odds are that Bruce was raised moderately-disinterested Episcopalian, by the matching crosses. But he is arguably an Episcopally baptized, matrilineally Jewish atheist who subscribes to Zen and has inherited a bone-deep taste for Catholic passion plays. All of these things can be true without even cancelling each other out.
In the words of Frank Miller (who I agree with for once), “He’s kind of like a diamond. You can throw him against the wall and you can pound him with a hammer, but you can’t break him. Every interpretation seems to work. […] You can do it badly, but you can’t really do it wrong.”
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lyreleafblog · 2 years ago
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The Legacy
A (very long) History of Lyre Leaf
Well, it’s come time to do some real talking. I previously introduced myself on a more baseline level, but today I would like to go into some more depth about what this blog is, why it is what it is, and how I’m going to move forward with it. Let’s get into it.
I grew up on the internet—and I think that’s one of the most important talking points to start out with on this blog. A lot of people in my generation grew up on the internet. We were the children of an era with divorce rates higher than ever seen before or since. We became latch-key kids with social anxiety and developmental giftedness that wore off in middle school. Many of us were incredibly poor because of our familial division, what with un-met child support and undocumented hereditary gambling running rampantly outside of the sanitary family courts that determined our custody agreement. We weren’t going out because we couldn’t afford to. Breaks from school were spent at home, most often alone, if not left to mingle with a sibling or two, with nothing to do besides satisfy our curiosities. Of course, when we look at history, it all seems so simple and crisp; Of course children are curious little things, even the older fifteen-ers who think the three long years separating their consciousness from a voting ballot are mostly pointless. Without present guardians to answer our trivial curiosities—without a voice waiting to answer the utterly predictable “why is the sky blue?” banter—we defaulted, simultaneously, to a different authority. We grew up on Google.
As I typed that, just then, this reality manifested in the between-the-lines crevices of societies’ infrastructure. Allow me to clarify: Sally googles all her questions. Did you see that? The word “google” is a verb now. It no longer requires the elegant capitalization of a typical proper noun, such as Bing. Nobody “bings” a question—and Microsoft Word knows so. Google raised a generation. Just like how the heaviness and context of the word “Mother” as a formal, brand-name account of an individual becomes the given expectation of “mothering” as we age into our theory of mind, with our awareness that our parents are not “God” but “gods” with a noteworthy little “g,” and so “Google” becomes “googling.” It starts at the first sign of a book report for which one has never read the book in question.
I didn’t have the chance nor the sense to consider actually asking a parent what the hell had gone wrong with me. I had grown up googling, with a little “g,” every time I had a question. At six years old, my mother gifted me her dinosaur; a Windows 98 PC. I was diagnosed with asthma after a bout of pneumonia around six years old and I’d been prescribed daily breathing treatments. Those treatments went down with a lot less fidgeting when they occurred in front of a computer, so my mother was sold. Little would she know that I would soon take over her brand-new Windows XP computer to live vicariously though The Sims. My own googling started out gingerly: Diva Stars, Barbie, My Scene, Polly Pocket, Cartoon Network, Disney Channel, Winx…  I am bating you for nostalgia without shame. It escalated alongside my (perhaps unfortunate) rapidly evolving preference for the written word. My search history evolved into how-to-add-hexed-files-to-Babyz and how-to-add-custom-Catz3. By the time I was 8 or so, I was fully enthralled in The Sims and almost all my time on the internet was spent learning about how to make objects for the game. Somehow, I actually achieved this, which shocks now-adult-me.
Google helped me discover things all on my own, too, such as the landscape of online friendship. My first account in what I guess one could call the online-social realm was none other than the massively underrated Barbie Girls franchise. (For anyone wondering, I am still most certainly obsessed with Barbie and closely follow Barbie content—please feel free to send me pics of any cool dolls or other Barbie things you might have.) I realized right away that this early MMO-esque digital universe model suited me much more than socializing in real life. Canned chat (pre-written dialogue options used in place of traditional instant messaging in online multiplayer worlds) generally prevented me from being bullied, which had been a significant problem for me at school. I especially appreciated creative elements in these kinds of online environments. Google helped me find more of them.
Eventually, I got into the world of MMORPGs. It’s all my mother’s fault. Before a custody agreement changed, I grew up with her and her unbelievable addiction to Adventure Quest. She was on the leaderboards (The Feline Fatale, if you’re wondering, way, way back in the late 00’s). While living separately, we played Mabinogi together (Long live Elrinnia, elven savior of the goddess!). As I got even older, we became more and more distant for a number of reasons, and google persisted as my primary authority on information. I found more communities in which to practice my social skills.
I got into sharing my writing online and even went on to make a few YouTube videos with my stepsiblings and friends. I won a few writing awards back in the hay-day of the Young Writers Society. I experimented with art communities and game groups.  I eventually found my way to Tumblr, which, at the time, I had only even seen before while peeking over the backcombed mane of our middle school scene-queen in typing class.
I had a few friends who had made pages on the site. I decided to make one, too! It serves to share that, like any teenager, I was, at that age, desperately trying to fit in with my peers and would quickly involve myself in their activities in any way I could find possible. I was utterly unaware of the scope of my disability at that age and couldn’t understand why I struggled to maintain fulfilling friendships in real life, so the idea of virtually-fitting-in using a digital avatar was especially appealing to me. Unfortunately, because of my age and autism, I was also exceedingly impressionable, and would find that this borderline underground social media / blog platform was mostly unregulated. That’s when it all started getting serious.
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I had always been sick, I just didn’t know it. As an infant, I was born with an ongoing infection and couldn’t go home after birth. I had several serious allergies and intolerances. At age six, like I mentioned, my breathing problems began. Soon after I would be diagnosed with migraines and chronic morning sickness (from stomach problems). I was six or seven years old when I was first diagnosed with childhood depression by Christian counselors. My mother told me that I had nothing to be depressed about because I had never known suffering (she was, quite literally, violently incorrect). When I was about seven years old, I would have a three month-long bout with strep throat which was eventually culled by surgery removing my infected tonsils and lymph nodes. Every year I would spend a minimum of six months dysfunctional and sick from various colds and viruses, occasionally requiring hospitalization to get my breathing problems under control.  I missed more than two combined years of school, but still graduated on time despite never getting a chance to make up my lost education. Around ten, I got my first endometriosis period. My so-called period cramps would last for one week before, the week of, and one week following my menstrual period. By this point, I was disabled for 75% of my entire waking life at least—but my predisposition to develop very severe, very long-lasting viral infections would most often cancel out whatever pain-free-days I might otherwise have. I was a completely hopeless human being and my mental health showed this.
The older I got, the worse my health became. My incredibly vicious periods became less predictable in my early teens, and longer. My digestive issues were so pronounced that my stomach was regularly distended and painful. I threw up most mornings before school, so my step mother gave me unrestricted access to PeptoBismol, explaining my dangerous symptoms away as school-anxiety. Around this age, I developed severe skin and sinus allergies to a massive host of proteins, including seemingly all animal proteins. I had a shampoo with egg protein that caused my scalp to flake and itch painfully. I would develop massive welts all across my skin when washing the family dogs. My parents supplemented me with Zyrtec and other baby-problem allergy mediations at which my immune system cathartically laughed and howled. On top of everything else, my walking problem (a usually unnoticeable limp) became apparent when I was about fourteen, and somehow, my family members were allowed to decide for me that corrective shoes would be too unflattering to be worth saving older-me from chronic hip pain. My suffering was genuinely unthinkable, even to the me of today who some would argue is only remotely better than the me of then. I had nothing and nobody in my corner—nobody cared about the fact that I was constantly in pain, constantly suffocating, always covered in hives with raw, itchy skin. I remember feeling as if they were applying a band aid over a burst jugular.
I had to smile and nod. Any time I expressed my medical needs, they were not only invalidated, but I was often criticized for expressing them at all. In my real life, I was a theatrical, dramatic liar who would rather fake her own death than even sit in a room with family members. I was evil—so very, truly evil—the production of a voodoo curse or a gnarly past life—and all I did was pretend to be sick, all to use it for my tiny mastermind plan of laying in bed and doing nothing all day long—the true pinnacle satisfaction of the human boredom that birthed stone tools (this is sarcasm). In my real life, I had absolutely no control over anything that was happening—but I did have one thing; I had google, with a little “g.”
I’m an American woman, and it’s no secret that one of the leading health problems in the USA is obesity. In reality, it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than “obesity,” which itself is a symptom and not the actual problem, in my personal and utterly unqualified opinion, but that’s how the media portrays this phenomenon. So, naturally, when I angrily googled “why the fuck am I always in agony” as a fourteen-and-a-half-year-old, the GPS-localized Google Search feature on my laptop’s browser pointed me to the answer that most locals wanted and expected to hear.
[why the fuck am i always in agony]
“you’re overweight.”
Me? Not possible, I had thought. All of my life, everyone had told me I was too skinny. I remember my weight being a constant conversation in the pediatrician’s office. I googled deeper.
BMI. Hip to waist ratio.
 You  ex-anorexics know how the story goes.
Standing in front of the archaic Victorian-mansion-darkwood-vanity with a construction-grade measuring tape stolen from the garage, I lifted my shirt up and took my measurements. I don’t remember what they were, not that the internet would need to know about a minors waist-to-hip-ratio, but I was satisfied enough to loosen to grips of my rapidly developing eating disorder upon the realization that society had determined the proportion of my stomach to be acceptable. That couldn’t be it, I thought. Whatever was wrong with me was not my weight.
Well, a not even another year would pass of my daily melt-on-the-tongue-allergy meds, my stupid chalky bismuth tablets, and my period cramps that had me sobbing through French class, before I would again refocus my blame for my suffering on the enemy that society said was behind it. The next time I went to evaluate my stomach was right before one of those lovely endometriosis periods, and immediately after eating half a bag of lays potato chips on my couch, with a step brother, as soon as we got home from school. This time, my belly was totally massive, and I didn’t need to measure it to see that.
I thought I knew what to do. I thought I had gained belly fat. I was fourteen, freshly out of a situation legally described as neglect, and I had grown up hating and blaming myself for serious physical ailments that I happened to endure. Every resource I could google said that belly inches are belly fat. I probably never even heard the word “bloat” until a year later. I had no idea that one of the very most common symptoms of endometriosis, or gastroparesis, or hernias, or any one of the number of the things wrong with my abdomen, was abdominal distention. I was fat. The billboards said I was fat. Magazines said I was fat. Posters in the doctor’s office said I was fat. Commercials said I was fat. The news said I was fat. Every single possible resource I was exposed to universally agreed that the cause of misery was being fat and that the solution to every perceivable problem a person might face, from poverty to extortion, might be weight loss. I became determined to get un-fat-- to take my health into my own hands, once and for all.
Google with a little “g” wasn’t doing enough. I would drink extra water, choose whole grains, eat fruits and vegetables and ride my bike as often as I could get away with.  No matter what I did, about 75% of the time, I had some degree of abdominal distention. It changed dramatically throughout the day, leading very-dumb-bless-your-heart-me to believe that I was rapidly gaining and losing weight and fat. Since seemingly nobody ever cared about my unending medical symptoms before, I never even considered bringing this up to my care-givers as a problem, though I was open about my desire to lose belly fat and feel better. One day, I decided to explore the weight loss realm of Tumblr to see if I could find more personal experiences to study, hoping to apply others strategies for weight loss and health to myself. That’s how I fell down the rabbit hole.
Now, I was never one of those pro-ana types with the weight loss groups and the ana-buddies or any of that crap. I was already extremely hard on myself all the time, and I didn’t want or need motivation to lose weight. What piqued my interest were the “tips and tricks” they shared around for how to avoid food and suspicion. Those spheres utterly discredited the conventional weight-loss advice, the food pyramid and any medical knowledge about weight or metabolism. They believed in fairytales—that eating only chocolate would make your body “reject absorbing the chocolate” and that you could throw up enough food to cancel out whatever energy your saliva sent straight to your blood stream.  I was desperate, young, and whole grains weren’t making my endo-belly stay small, so I opted to give these wild ideas a chance. More importantly, I took to the philosophy of self-proclaimed pro-bulimics, and decided to stop using anti-nausea medication. The result of that was that it became unnaturally easy for me to vomit up virtually anything that made it past my esophagus in the first place, and so I did.
Things rapidly got out of control. I lost weight so quickly that everyone around me noticed and cared very suddenly. I lost my period right away, which became the single greatest incentive behind my disordered eating as my chronic pain was dramatically reduced. I was eventually slammed into eating disorder treatment. Minnie Maud, Renfrew—I’ve seen some shit. When you’re diagnosed with an eating disorder as a minor, there are some prerequisite appointments that must occur to assess damage from the disorder. I was diagnosed with my mitral valve prolapse, the supposed explanation to a lifetime of ignored heart palpitations until then, and gastroparesis, which I was told was a temporary side effect from my history of multi-day fasts and vomiting. I also had a host of dental problems and to this day have extremely fragile teeth.
Eventually I found my way into a real-life support group with a bunch of other Tumblr teens. I started a recovery blog and so did most of them. That’s where the story starts to get good. My recovery friends nursed me into my eighteenth birthday. By this point, I had become one of the token-teen-anorexics at my high school and had the disturbing experience of being asked for weight loss advice by my academic peers. I hated this with all of my soul and eventually, so much so, that I wanted to publicly open up about why I had been skinny, why it was bad, and why nobody else should want what I had. I made myself public. I looked up to Amalie Lee and Sarah Frances Young who had similarly bridged the communities in their real lives with the online recovery communities, producing an incredible amount of positive support for themselves whilst also serving to show struggling individuals what’s possible, so I opted to do the same and “put a face to the name.” My plan worked.
The same therapist who supervised my real life support group had been helping me plan a very big move. She’d determined that the problem with my mental health wasn’t that I had been neglected, but that I still actively was being neglected. I needed to be able to be fully responsible for tending to my own needs, or those needs would go on being unmet. I was seventeen when I signed my first lease and was eighteen when I moved 500 miles away from home to a town I’d never been to, in the single greatest escape of my life. My public openness with this experience attracted many people to me, who finally, rather than asking me for weight loss advice, were benefiting from my knowledge on moving out young, finding work, finding shelter and food, and best of all, recovering from disordered eating.
Everything was going great. People would message me for support or resources, I would share it. I bullied a few pro-ana people and launched secret campaigns against various pro-ana spaces on the internet. Somehow, me and all of my friends were those new-age 2015 hippies that don’t mind being broke as long as they’re, like, California-broke, and still eating vegan avocado toast every morning. We were a little subculture of our own, finding our healing through the extremely culturally appropriated words of white male authors who were profiting off our spiritual vulnerability—but it was mutualistic enough that everyone kind of turned out okay, mostly.
I was one of the first flies to drop. My moms death coincided with the terrible worsening of the my endometriosis and PCOS symptoms, long after I had weight-restored. I first shared about it online because I had grown desperate and felt lonely in my circumstance. At the time, I only knew I had endometriosis. My partner immediately became my full time care-taker.
Thanks yet again to the internet, namely Facebook support groups, eventually I got health insurance and got my excision surgery. I was sent off from Dr. Fox with a warning that I probably had more problems going on, and not to blame endometriosis for any ongoing pain, but to seek out other answers until I’ve found them and not be misled. Around the same time, I noticed Amalie posting about her own PCOS—with photos of the same distended belly that I had, that had started it all, maybe for both of us, even. No fucking way.
 Yes, fucking way, indeed. Dr. Fox had already alluded so himself, but seeing it happen in real life was a very unexpected experience for me. I still remember him inferring to me that PCOS correlates with bulimia, so casually that it was almost mean, as to bundle up someone’s complex, perceived-to-be-psychological struggle into a little blood-sugar package. It all went against the accepted modality for eating disorder recovery, which insisted that the phenomenon was purely psychological. I then noticed my other hero, Sarah, sharing about CFS. As it turns out, an abundance of research exists linking chronic illness to disordered eating.  I already had been diagnosed with my endometriosis and the issues I had in childhood, but I had no idea that the experience of chronic illness and disordered eating might be so common.
I became vocal about the observation of the overlap in patient demographics. It still seems like nobody cares much, but I continue to try to raise awareness of the subject because I know one day people will care. People only care about endometriosis excision thanks to anecdote-advocates like myself, but now, they care a hell of a lot more than they did before anecdote-advocates existed.
In 2020, I moved again, back down to the metropolitan area I was born in, but not close to where I grew up. In December of 2020, I first dislocated my shoulder. After a couple of days of walking around in horrible pain, I hesitantly made my way into an urgent care where my x-ray was questioned. I had a dislocation, but absolutely nothing else was wrong, not even bruising, which was extremely unusual. The Urgent Care doctors told me to tell my normal doctor about everything.
My normal doctor then referred me to rheumatology and cardiology. ��It all happened faster than anyone could have seen coming—and so fast, specifically, because while I was tangled up in my endometriosis treatment back in 2017, the entire diagnostic criteria for my underlying condition, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, was professionally altered to make it exquisitely better at locating and diagnosing individuals like myself. I have almost every single known feature associated with the condition. I passed the Beighton score with a 9/9, had been diagnosed with my hernias during endometriosis surgery, had the heart stuff and the skin stuff and even the startling scar stuff that made my doctors demand I see a specialist in my condition before I ever try to conceive.
“You’re so soft!” Was something my friends had been saying to me all my life. I thought they were trying to compliment my choice of moisturizer—I didn’t realize they meant that I literally felt like velvet to them.  
Ehlers Danlos turned out to be responsible for a lot of my experiences with poor body image and food—pretty much whatever endometriosis and PCOS didn’t inspire. As I discovered, things like “walking funny” affect one’s posture, which can cause us to carry ourselves in a way that slouches our guts forward and makes us appear to have a rounder middle than we would if postured correctly. I remember standing in a bathroom with a bunch of girls as a teenager once, and all of us, being toxic south Florida suburb kids, were comparing our bellies. Everyone was stretching and pulling their bellies out and talking about how big they were. Of course, as EDSers know, the belly is upon the stretchiest of our portions, so I shocked even myself when I saw my belly kept going and going as I pulled it away from my waist. Humiliated, I was apparently visibly distraught, because the other little girls immediately began comforting me. “You’re not fat! It’s just skin!” “Yeah, you’re definitely not fat, but you are really stretchy."
(A primary feature of Ehlers Danlos is soft, stretchy skin)
Finally aware of the terms for my innumerable ailments, and many more appointments and diagnoses later, I decided to seek out a more specialized kind of therapy. Back in 2018, I had been diagnosed with OCD whilst grieving the loss of my mother. OCD is commonly considered a neurodiverse condition, meaning that while it most certainly can be mentally debilitating, aspects of it are more neurological than specifically psychological. Rather than working against thoughts and feelings, neurodiverse individuals are working against immutable developmental traits to fit in to a conventional world. I eventually found myself under the care of a doctor who was well informed and established with neurodiverse clients, who explained the state of affairs with neurodiverse psychology and insurance in the United States, with adult diagnosis, and most importantly, with what specifically is wrong with me.
This doctor helped me overcome lifelong learning difficulties and discover my actual identity. Slowly but surely, I have been coming around to opening up about the uniqueness of that entire experience online but sharing about being neurodivergent is a hell of a lot harder than sharing about physical ailments. The longer I endured through my new format of therapy, the easier it was to have conversations about the actual logistics of my conditions and how they work in my head. Why can't I do math? It's too noisy.
Understandably, it can feel very dehumanizing as a patient to have conversations like that with a new therapist or mental healthcare team early on. I eventually learned that, yet again, chronic illness tells a story about our so-called “mental health” but in a way much more important than I had ever dreamed possible in my old ED-recovery-days.
Not only is there a well-established co-occurrence between these “neurodiverse” conditions and the form of chronic illness that I have, but many of the psychological symptoms of said neurodiverse disorders specifically co-occur with relative physical features, such as in the case of TMJ (TMD) and hearing or even attention problems.  It’s all just fascinating. With this knowledge, every detail of my life started to make sense. Why had I been neglected? Hereditary-neurodivergent mothering, firstly, compiled with my own inability to recognize or speak about my physical state or needs with enough detail to mean anything—combined with just the perfect amount of white coat syndrome to make me lie, cheat and fake my own wellness or do anything else to avoid cancelling my plans for a doctors visit. Why was I so good at all of school besides math? A learning disability, attention problems, a total inability to interpret mathematical data when it’s spoken directly to me or drawn at me, an inability to properly decipher the symbolism that has come to be known as numbers. Why did nobody notice? I have been intimidatingly pedantic nearly since birth—reading early, writing early, despite never developing hand coordination superior to that of a four-year-old, and practicing the one and only communication skill I was born with an inclination towards being good at. I would write them all clear out of bounds, with a nerdy, pompous level of self confidence that offended and tickled my instructors and fortunately satisfied those meant to judge my writing. It had been that way for me all along, but somehow, it slipped away from my memory. My ability to sound smart is what got me through elementary and middle school.
I am pedantic and intimidating and usually seem much, much smarter and more in control than I actually am. Whether or not I’m a compulsively-faking antisocial psychopath is still up for debate in my own psyche, but my healthcare team has assured me that, what I am, in fact, is a stereotypically neurodivergent person with some trauma around my previously unmet healthcare needs, and also, having lots of healthcare problems that I very much haven't made peace with having.
I also don't want to have these conditions-- not that anyone ever truly wants something like that—I know that would be very unusual—but the diagnosis and treatment of everything besides endometriosis was somehow even more traumatic to me. My mother, the parent I inherited my wonky body from, of course also had my condition and arguably my neurotype, too. I grew up watching the healthcare system fail her and addict her to needless anxiety medications while ignoring her impending early death. I had no interest in reliving another second of that experience. A big part of my disordered eating had stemmed from that fear—the fear that being fat was the cause of sickness and misery.
Finally, I had gotten all of the answers that have for so long plagued my mind.
Now it’s been well over a year, almost a year and a half since I got diagnosed with the last thing I’ve been diagnosed with that wasn’t a random emergency. I’m still adjusting to life with this newfound understanding of my body and my brain. While some of my conditions have significantly improved, like my endometriosis and the joint-injury involved in my Ehlers Danlos, other aspects, like my ongoing mast cell problems and frequently flaring stomach problems, persist and occasionally worsen.
At the point where all of the diagnoses piled up, I felt extremely vulnerable, especially with sharing on my most public, this-is-my-face platform. This isn’t solely of my own, accord, either, as my still impressionable brain is sensitive to the rising criticism against people who talk about their disabilities or chronic illnesses online. At the same time, I too am able to step back from my pedestal and analyze the real implications behind individuals who might be identified as chronic illness influencers. While most individuals in this demographic are viewed positively, a dangerous amount of controversy surrounds their community. Individuals point out the frequency of grifters and scammers.
In my own time among the environments of Facebook support groups, and in the micro-communities I found by publicizing my own experience with mental and physical illness, I too had noticed a highly disturbing trend. It’s one that brought me all the way back to my beginnings, and one that hopefully will justify this absolutely gargantuan transcript of a post. People were competing. These environments, those focused around various chronic illnesses, fostered a competitiveness between patients. One image specifically struck me; a young, emaciated woman, with a feeding tube, posting a selfie from her hospital bed took me all the way back to Wintergirls. I’m not that sick, I told myself the moment I saw her. What is that sick? What is sick enough?
I never want to be part of that atmosphere. I never want to be viewed as competing or be caught belittling someone else’s anguish to better highlight my own. I am utterly petrified of accusations of hypochondria as I’ve lost some family to that very insistence. At the same time, I am perfectly ordinary— blending in well enough to have an ear or two on me at least, compared to the rural, disfigured Appalachians on the other side of my genetic lottery number. Especially when the common conversation focuses more on grifting and scamming than awareness—who is going to practice blatant, blunt, ugly and unwarranted honesty, besides someone who can’t help themselves?
Fortunately, life has backed me up against the wall yet again. Everything will be okay, this time, for real, and I’ve just convinced myself otherwise out of anxiety that’s real enough to be acknowledgeable.  I am afraid of the impending changes and transitions that my state of being require. I am hesitant to do this, to sit at home and write and write and write, despite knowing there’s not much else I can do to be heard. I realized through my work and college that my experience has permanently defined my perception, and that perception is an inherently wonderful thing. I’ve learned from the experts that diversity is what strengthens a population and is a tremendous part of what makes us human. I don’t have to look or be normal to be meaningful; in fact, just like the back-of-cereal-boxes love to remind children, being unique is a good thing.
Now, I’m focusing on that; I’m exploring the things that make me different. One of them is that I’m sure many of you do not spend the entirety of your pain-stricken day off writing a 5,000+ word article for an insignificantly tiny audience. I’m sure many people haven’t needed to source out sliding-scale healthcare institutions. Plenty of people don’t currently think maybe there’s a cyst on my right ovary again.
Nevertheless, my story is unthinkably common. The only issue is that a lot of people like never get the pen in their hands, literally and figuratively. Genetic and developmental conditions will seriously damage individuals’ prospects without proper early intervention.  I got diagnosed with what I’m hoping is pretty-much-everything by 24.  A lot of people won’t be so lucky, and whenever they go through a major life change, and their bodies and brains fail to bounce back, it’s a total, life-ruining surprise. If not for my own “great escape” and my very much updated family, I probably wouldn’t even be here writing right now. 
One thing that people like me all have in common is that we will spend as much time in front of a computer screen or cellphone screen as we are able to do so, because the low-activity stimulation involved with today’s technology is a dopamine-godsend to a kin like ours. So I know that by sharing, I am able to touch the lives of individuals who may have no idea just how much they have in common with me, or the rest of people like me out here in the world.
The internet is a giant library of information, and the more we engage with it, the more accurate it becomes in meeting our needs (specifically in terms of web crawlers). If someone googling joint pain, with a little “g,” happens upon my story, maybe they’ll be more inclined to make that first appointment or take a leap of faith and make a move or escape their unhealthy home environment. I can’t do anything meaningful to really raise us up for the revolution we deserve-- I mean, I try to donate where I can and I'm a big believer in mutual aid, and I struggle, too-- but I can play my part in practicing honesty and vulnerability, in sharing my information by word of mouth, or in this case, by word-of-eyes.
My life isn’t meant to be an advertisement, and neither is yours. Besides, the best kind of revenge against people who have wronged you is to unashamedly own and love yourself and your story—and you need to discover who you really are to do that.
I’ve been blessed to be able to aid a few people in their personal struggles. I’m by no means some kind of mentor, but simply a fellow ally in our fight together, extending whatever resources and support I am able to offer to those who ask for it (and occasionally to those who don’t!). This realization of my ability to contribute to other peoples self-discovery and growth, simply by sharing my own, has made me realize that sharing might be the single most important thing I can do. Honesty is powerful and openness is not weakness, but a way to build strength. I believe in a world where we should not censor our suffering for the convenience of those around us, nor should we withhold immaterial or literal nourishment from those in need if we can spare it.
I found my truths out thanks to "the community" being honest, open and vulnerable-- and I feel endlessly inclined to do my part in paying it forward.
So that’s that! That’s the history of my oversharing on the internet, which I find fully necessary to explain myself and the subjects I cover because of my own unique brain. If you're anything like me, in just about any way, feel free to reach out as I love connecting with people and learning about the diverse range of experiences people with my conditions have.
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