#tw incarceration

[wishiwasfiction]

I saw a post that said locking alters away is never okay, and I wanted to talk about it but didn't want to derail, so I'm making my own post.

Tl;DR I don't 100% agree with it because there's nuance there.

read tags for TWs

Broadly speaking, I agree. Locking up alters can be damaging in a lot of ways: it hurts them, and their relationships to other alters, and can hurt other alters if they disagree with the decision.

Broadly speaking, locking up alters is counterproductive to healing/functionality.

Broadly speaking.

There are also situations in which locking up an alter is the safest option. Times where you don't really get a choice.

I'm honestly glad that most systems never have to think about this, because you only really think about it if you (or someone you know) has lived it.

Alters can do really fucked up things, dangerous things, both in the innerworld and out.

Alters can hurt others.

Alters can kill each other or send each other dormant.

Alters can kill the body.

And yes, in many cases they're doing this because they're trying to help, or they think they deserve it, or because they were trained to do so, or any number of other perfectly understandable and 'healable' reasons.

But some also do it because they think its fun, or because it makes them feel powerful, or just because they can.

Speaking as a gatekeeper/protector, it's my job to keep the system safe. If an alter is not safe to be around, then I need to protect against that.

I think it's important to establish that keeping an alter away from the rest of the system doesn't inherently mean that we're keeping them somewhere inhumane.

We put people in their own area, with space, light, good food, pleasant living conditions, and the ability to choose how they spend their time. We give them access to their hobbies and their favourite medias and comforts. If it's safe, we give them non-physical access to social spaces, guidance, and support. If we think it's safe, we give them in person visits with people we know they cannot harm should they try something.

Locking alters away is not always cruel and violent and brutal, even though you may consider it immoral or unethical.

And quite frankly, even if it is done in ways that are cruel or violent or brutal, if that is what is required for the body to remain functional and alive, then so be it.

You can't do 'better' if you're dead.

What I will say, is that locking up alters should not be a fix all. It should not be what you jump to or immediately reach for when conflict occurs.

It is the final option or it is an emergency stop-gap.

We have a very long list of things to try before we start considering locking someone up. We work with them to understand why they are doing what they're doing, and whether they're open to changing.

If they are not open to change, we respect that and do the absolute bare minimum necessary to keep everyone safe.

A lot of times, they will not be open to changing, and then after some time of us respecting their autonomy and boundaries, they approach us requesting help to change.

I am scared of the response this may garner, but I'm saying it anyway.

If an alter reacts violently to something out of fear, keeping them to one area with none of that thing can be a kindness.

This is a paraphrasing of something said to me by an alter I had 'locked away' for safety.

She reacted badly to change/uncertainty, and said the predictability helped her to learn how to work through her fear and manage it without violence. The system proper was too overwhelming for her to be able to change.

She's now happily living in a quieter part of the innerworld and no longer expresses those fear responses as violence.

This is one example i picked at random, but i have many more stories of locking alters away while they are learning to manage themselves, and then releasing them once they are no longer deemed dangerous.

If you want to judge someone for what they do when they have both time and options when making a decision, then fine.

But judging people on split-second decisions when (potentially) their life is involved, or when they've exhausted all other options, just seems to me to be picking on the vulnerable target.

[everett-fornow]

what if Henris actually got caught and put in jail AU...it's a working title. time accurate mugshot photo quality under the cut

they're not all of his crimes but just the ones they got solid evidence on. they managed to raid his house and find 11 of the 23 bodies behind his murder charges by an incinerator that contained traces of human remains, though because of the non-existent genealogy of the time they weren't able to determine anything further than that

one day I'll win the award for "most evil and fucked up protagonist" just you wait

[rotzaprachim]

Under cut for traumatic content but

Yesterday whilst biking home from my job at rush ish hour I was full on hit by a car that ran past speed limit through a stop sign/four way stop and hit the side of my bike full on. I was biking through a pedestrian crosswalk when it hit me. So far it seems like I had a miraculous survival in terms of I have a broken leg and various torn things, some head stuff, but - it’s overall shockingly good. Still processing that it happened and hit me and for a while my brain was so stuck in the half second of it Happening. For what Happened, a stroke of grace - there were several pedestrians including children in the area and the car hit only me, who was wearing a helmet and protective footwear for my commute.

the driver hit and fled the scene of the crime. Later the police came to collect by bike and helmet, which had both been destroyed, for evidence. The person who hit and ran was driving under the influence, and non receptive to external information and stimuli. Because they do not have the financial resources to pay the $5000 dollar bail they are being held until trial. I don’t…. For a while my mind was so stuck in the half second of the crash, replaying it over and over again. I don’t know how to feel about this. I’m so angry. I’m so angry at the situation. I’m so angry I almost died and that someone cared so little that I was almost killed by somebody. I’m so angry at the situation and the local situation that ended up with someone barreling through a pedestrian commuter area while intoxicated. I’m so angry about inequalities and the violence of drugs and alcohol and I’m so angry at the police and how they got involved and I’m angry about the incarceration. What does that do? What does that do for fucking any of it? I hate that person. I hate that person for how close they came not just to killing me but the middle aged woman and the children on the crosswalk. But I didn’t die, and my injuries I will recover from, and so there’s someone else whose life will be ruined from this, and it isn’t me.

[3-2-whump]

TW/CW: mentions of death/murder, incarceration

Whumpee kills whumper and ends up in prison, regardless of whether it was done in self-defense or in defense of others. They don’t even try to argue their innocence, they won’t deny they killed them.

Maybe not so surprisingly, whumpee adjusts extremely well to life behind bars. It’s nothing they haven’t already been through.

[hcmmersnstrings]

[ dylan o'brien, cis-male, he/him ] — whoa! DAKOTA LOVE just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TWO YEARS, working as a/an MECHANIC AND PART TIME BARTENDER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 31 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit APATHETIC and TEMPERMENTAL , but i know them to be CALM and NON-JUDGEMENTAL. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to LOWER MANHATTAN! — (binx, 30, mst, she/her, n/a)

vibes and wanted plots

Name: Dakota Love Nicknames: None Age: Thirty One Date of birth: March 21 1993 Birth place: Stearns, KY Occupation: Mechanic and part time bartender Romantic/sexual orientation: heterosexual // heteroromantic

ABOUT.

Aesthetics: the cherry of a cigarette burning against a dark night sky, palm calluses, guitar string scars, smoky bar rooms, low lit rooms, steady heartbeat, tattered jeans, honey thick drawls, the pain of wasted potential, the promise that the sun will rise again

HISTORY:

tw: drugs/drug use cw, prison sentence mention, poverty

Poor boy from a poor family in a poor town, there weren't a lot of options for Dakota to succeed. His mother was a young, single mom with a string of partners that filtered in and out of his life from a young age.

One of these suitors stuck and when he was still relatively little his mother moved them across state lines to West Virginia to be with this man. He worked in the mines so he wasn't around a lot, but when he was he was a musician.

Dakota was happy to be taught different instruments, playing along while his mother harmonized. It fostered his love for the arts. But the happiness was short lived as it always was, and eventually his mother split from this man and moved them into another town.

He would be hardpressed to remember a time his mother was sober. Especially after the move she worked multiple jobs and found multiple ways to just "take the edge off". This often left Dakota to the wayside and to fend for himself.

As he got older and realized his mother was unreliable, he took up his own odd jobs to bring money back into the house, often squirreling it away where his mother couldn't find it. Eventually, he dropped out his freshman year of high school so he could work full time as a mechanic.

They eventually moved back to Kentucky and he found work and so did she and she was sober for a bit but true to the pattern it didn't last. Trailer park to trailer park or run down apartment to rundown apartment, Dakota was still a teen and like all teens you can't stop curiosity from blossoming. Girls and late nights and smoking in the back of his pick up and drinking and being places he had no business going, there was no conductor for this train and it was off the rails.

Despite his wishes for his future, he fell down the same path as his mother and it happened before he could even realize it. At first it was just teenage experimenting. Dakota is trustworthy and this much is evident in the way he interacts with people. The folks he worked with asked him to help sell and in turn he got to take home a cut and some of his own supply. It was all an escape from the reality that was his life and the shitshow that waited for him at home. Whether it was his mother being erratic or the men he brought home picking fights with him, for a little bit, he didn't have to deal with it all. And the money was good. And the excitement of being somewhere new, of doing something dangerous was even better.

A whirlwind of years and youth lost he landed himself in prison with multiple charges including arson. He'll be the first to tell you that sure, it sucked ratting out people he thought were his friends, and sure it sucked realizing it was just more of his life lost, but what really sucked? What really made him go crazy? The withdrawal. It was hell. Worse than hell. Clarity eventually came and he settled into his new life, counting down the days until his releaes.

Dakota has never been a bad kid, just an angry one. With good behavior, he was allowed to take vocational classes and classes to get his GED. He was also allowed to join an arts group and play his music or sing in the choir. All these points earned him an early release.

He had no fucking clue what to do when he got out. Sure, he had training, but no one wanted to hire him. And all the people he knew in Kentucky still had the same problems. A brief relapse, a call from an old friend he'd met years prior brought him to New York. She let him crash on her couch and watch her apartment while she traveled for work. She put him in touch with unions and eventually all these efforts landed him a new job. A new career. A new start.

He lives in Lower Manhattan, his friend spends most of her time away so she just let him take over the second bedroom and he just pays her a portion of rent that goes towards her mortgage. Dakota toes a thin line with his drug and alcohol use, never quite falling off the edge but having a habit of dipping his toe into the water and seeing how long he can hold it.

FAST FACTS:

He still sings and plays guitar, fiddle, piano, and the banjo.

Was incarcerated when he was twenty one and released when he was twenty nine. He likes to spend his time trying to catch up on all the events he missed. He has a list of movies he's currently trying to work through.

A handyman at heart, Dakota picked up a lot of skills working from such a young age. If you need something fixed, he can probably figure it out for you.

Loves to cook but cannot bake to save his life. He will not make you breakfast in bed as he would probably burn it.

Is allergic to cats but loves them.

Hasn't spoken to his mother in years.

[serickswrites]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing!

I was wondering if you could write something with a prison setting, with an angry whumper (because I feel like I never see those). Ignore this if you don’t like the idea haha

Anyway I hope you have an amazing day! ❤️

Hello! Thank you so much!

I can definitely write this for you (I hope this is what you are looking for/wanting). Please enjoy and have a great day!!

Warnings: incarceration, degradation, physical violence, threat of physical harm, threat of noncon

Whumpee kept their eyes on the ground. They followed along closely behind the guard, towel and limited toiletries clutched to their chest. They couldn't believe this had happened. Couldn't believe that there had been such a miscarriage of justice that they had ended up here, in prison, while the real villain of the story, Original Whumper, walked away free.

Whumpee had spent their whole life trying to dispel beliefs about them. About what they were. What they could be. And it didn't matter. Because they still ended up in the place that everyone thought they would end up: in prison.

The guard was talking, but Whumpee wasn't listening. They could hear the calls and jeers of their fellow inmates. That was all they could hear. Until they heard the clanking of the door behind them as the cell door swung shut.

Whumpee looked up, heart instantly in their throat. On the bottom bunk of the cell sat a face that they had never hoped to see again: Whumper.

Whumpee had been responsible for Whumper ending up in this place. And Whumpee was sure that Whumper had remembered from the look on their face.

"You," Whumper growled as they stepped off the bunk.

"Please," Whumpee whispered.

"You are here? Now?" Whumper stepped in close to Whumpee, so close that Whumpee could smell their sweat, their foul breath. "Oh this has got to be some sick joke, huh bitch? Come to get more from me."

Whumpee shrank back, making themself as small as possible. "Please. I--"

"You don't get to speak, pig. You don't get to do anything!" Whumper roared. "I am going to end you!"

Whumpee could feel Whumper's spittle land on their cheek. They hunched over themself, trying to shield themself from Whumper. "Pl-please," Whumpee whispered. No one was coming to help them. No one was coming to save them. The guards didn't care. Caretaker wasn't there. Couldn't get to them. They were at the mercy of Whumper.

"The only thing you are going to do," they leaned over Whumpee. "Is be my bitch!"

[hazyaltcare]

hi hi! I just wanted to let yall know your content is really helping me get through my bf being in jail, its such a comfort for me since we'd ship proships together and it reminds me of him. thanks for all you do!

I'm so glad to hear our content has been a comfort for you in this trying time.

I would also like to note, however, that, as a whole, there is no such thing as a proship. What you are referring to is what I suppose most would call a "problematic ship." I think I have heard of some calling their "problematic" ships comships, but I am unsure if that was the intention behind the creation of the phrase comship or if it's another bastardization.

Proship just means you are pro-shipping. You believe in letting people ship as they please and not harrassing others over ships. Some proshippers have "problematic" ships, but not all do!

All of that aside, we wish you well, anon! I am glad our content has been helpful to you in a time of need.

Mod Haze (🪛The Doctor (11))

[surgerodriguez]

Boiling Point

Setting: Weekly Rodriguez Family Dinner, 1/29/2023 Mentions: @nichelleyoung  Triggers: Toxic Masculinity, Street Fighting, Incarceration, Anger Management Issues, Death Mention  Word Count: 1307 words  Note: Italics are Spanish

It was pretty common for Surge to wallflower whenever the entire family was together. Yes, he would occasionally join the conversation, or play whatever game his brother tried to get him into. But every week was loud, competitive, and being the lone introvert in a family of extroverts was exhausting. 

Well not the only one, Surge knew that his father was one. But the two of them had the tendency to wallflower on opposite sides of the room - if not opposite sides of the house. It was easy to forget within the crowd, the overlapping conversations, the kids all running around, the fact that there were 29 people all in this house that always seemed to small for the amount people that came over. 

But despite how exhausting his family was, he was actually glad to come to family dinner this week. Considering that his mom has insisted that Nichelle come (to which Surge only agreed to extend the invitation if his mother promised not to ask about when they would be having more kids), and this was her official introduction to the family that she hadn’t met at the restaurant, he was just glad that it was going well. That throughout all the craziness she seemed to fit. 

Pilar had taken it upon herself to introduce Nichelle to everyone, and Surge just watched with a smile on his face. He had his phone out, planning on sneaking a picture of the two of them while they were distracted, when a voice from behind him surprised him. 

“She seems nice,” the deep gruffness of Fernando’s voice was quiet, in a way that almost seemed like a contradiction. 

“She is,” Surge nodded to his father, “Didn’t exactly realize how nice it would be to have someone around until I met her.” 

“And Pilar?” Fernando asked, in a way that Surge could tell that his father was trying to get to something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. 

“Pilar adores her,” Surge admitted, despite being wary of the conversation, a smile still came to his face, “the two of them have really bonded.” 

“Good,” Fernando nodded, “It’s about time you found the girl a mother.” 

The words caught Surge off-guard, his brows instantly furrowing as he took in his father’s words. His hand clasped around his phone, the picture that he was trying to take forgotten as he gripped. While his father had been full of critiques since he had gotten out of jail, it was almost as if Fernando didn’t even realize how insulting the words were. To him, to Pilar, to Nichelle, even to Sarai’s memory. 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Surge asked, his words measured, hoping that his father has misspoke - but knowing the man well enough to know that hope was probably misplaced. 

“Pilar needs a gentle touch,” Fernando said, matter-of-factly, as if he still didn’t see the problem, “and you seem determined to raise that child surrounded by violence. Someone needs to shield her from that.” 

“You know, Nichelle and her father are both giant boxing fans, right? Oh wait, no you wouldn’t know that because apparently all you think Nichelle is good for is being a replacement Mom for Pilar,” Surge snapped, not realizing that his voice had gotten louder and that everyone had started watching. “But I didn’t start dating Nichelle in order to force her to be a housewife, I’m dating her because I like her. Actually, I love her. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you.” 

“You know as well as I that if Sarai were here...” the older man warned, his voice rising to match his son’s as her was interrupted. 

“You don’t get to say her name,” Surge yelled, “and you don’t get to act as if you knew her. That you knew what our family would be like, how we would have parented Pilar. You didn’t even know her!”

“She would have had the girl, and you barely would have seen her. Every other weekend until you lost interest or Sarai decided she had enough. We both know that you’re a horrible example for her, Sergio. Pilar deserves more than a lifetime of watching her father get injured over and over again. She deserves to have a normal childhood with a mother who can help her thrive.”  

“What, like we had a normal childhood?” Surge accused, his eyes narrowing, “Because you sure as fuck made sure we wouldn’t have that.” 

“You don’t know how much I tried. You don’t know what I did for this family,” Fernando warned, his voice growing angrier. 

“Everyone fucking knows what you did,” Surge countered, annoyed at the same excuse that Fernando had given time and time again. “because you were gone. Josue, Maria, and Anita all dropped out of high school the moment that they could to help support this family. I almost got arrested street fighting because nobody would let me drop out and get a job. But that violence that you hate - it’s what made sure that Mom could keep the restaurant. It bought the house that we’re in right now. It made sure that you didn’t have to go back to work after you got out of prison. It has made sure that Angel got to go to college and grad school without any fucking student loans, and has made sure that I’ll be able to do the same for my daughter. And it won me two Olympic medals. So maybe you should finally admit that I’ve done more for this fucking family than you have. And it’s my money that’s keeping us together now.” 

“Your blood money,” Fernando spat with disgust. 

“That you happily take,” Surge snapped back. 

“That. Is. Enough!” Sofia’s voice managed to be louder than the two of theirs, quieting them enough for Surge to realize that everyone was watching - that somewhere in his anger his phone had left his hand and shattered against the wall. And he could feel his father using that as another reason as to why he wasn’t a good person, why his boxing wasn’t an honorable career like everyone else, why he was a terrible father. 

This has been the worst of their fights, and it felt like all the work in his anger management therapy sessions had managed to go down the drain. 

But the worst of it was the moment that he noticed Pilar’s face - scared, crying, confused. Surge had always tried to hide his temper from his daughter, and here it was out in the open. Going over to the girl, Surge scooped her up and Pilar held onto him tight. 

“Why is abuelo so angry?” she cried into his shoulder, her words a whisper in his ear. And Surge didn’t have an answer, not one that he could give a toddler, especially when Pilar was just starting to understand that her mom wasn’t there like the other kids in her preschool had. 

“He’s just having a bad day,” Surge lied to try and comfort the child, wishing that he had something better to say - knowing that Pilar would probably have questions that he was going to have to answer, but figuring that he could at least get her home before she started asking. After saying his goodbyes and letting Nichelle do the same, Surge was still boiling, knowing that he needed to get out before it all started erupting again. 

“You keep treating him like this, and one day he won’t come back. Is that what you want? To lose our son and granddaughter?” Surge overheard his mother angrily lecture his father. 

But he was already out the door before he heard the answer. Because he didn’t want to know the answer. 

He was scared that he already knew it. And that the answer was yes. 

[squeakytoybrain]

h

honda boys :P

[venting-town]

If you’re an adult/teen and using a child as a “ safe space “

Fuck you. You don’t deserve it. And neither did your retarded ass ancestors/spirits/demons/angels/save states/AI’s/selves/ ///etc

No, Elites and. . Its NOT okay or good for a child be a safe space for a teenager/adult

Fuck us stupid ass testing clones and testors and creators and origins and sources and games and work and play and and and and etc

Fuck us and vice versa and mirrors and pretend and fake and true and real and false and lie and truth and hidden truth and white lies and white and black and grey and mix and neutralizers and imbalance and equal and balance and reverse and perspective and neutral and negative and positive and spectrum and story and world and universe and planes and dimensions and souls and spiritual and non spiritual and beings and non beings and accept and deny and hold and reject and ignore and live and die and revive and redead and inside and outside and alien and animal and reptile and mammal and insect and arachnid and ghosts and lost and found and travel and abandoned and betray and return and forgive and forget and repent and stay and static and change and ebb and flow and water and fire and electric and possess and exorcism and rebuke and broken and healed and you

Fucking retards

[underestimated-heroine]

More links on this.

Since 2014, millions of Uyghurs, Kazakhs and other minorities have been locked up in China and subjected to torture and forced labour. Some of those freed talk about trying to rebuild their lives in neighbouring Kazakhstan

Photography by Robin Tutenges

A Chinese course book

Saliman Yesbolat used to live in Ghulja county, Xinjiang. After she refused to denounce her Uyghur neighbours to the police, she was forced to perform the raising of the Chinese flag every Monday at dawn, and to attend Chinese lessons twice a week in the basement of her building, where she would learn the Chinese language, patriotic songs and Xi Jinping's discourses by heart. This is her exercise book.

Forced to leave China

At 65, Imam Madi Toleukhan is one of the oldest refugees in Bekbolat, Kazakhstan, where more than 100 families took shelter after fleeing the Chinese regime. 'We were richer back there. I owned a herd, but I was too afraid for my sons, my grandchildren and their future: I came to Kazakhstan to save them. I didn't want them to be the fourth generation to suffer at the hands of the Chinese government, he says.

Remembering Uyghur culture in exile

Two members of the Dolan Ensemble, a Uyghur dance troupe based in Kazakhstan, get ready before performing a traditional dance to mark 40 days since the birth of a baby. Founded in 2016, the troupe performs at festivals or private events that bring together members of the Uyghur community, some of whom have had to leave Xinjiang.

Torture, infertility and damaged genitalia

In Kazakhstan, medical care for camp survivors is poor. Most victims can barely afford to see a family doctor. Anara*, an endocrinologist in a Kazakh hospital who has examined about 50 camp survivors since 2020, noticed recurrent infertility problems among her patients. 'Men or women, many have damaged genitalia. Some told me they'd been given drugs, others said they'd been raped. As they didn't come to us right after being released from the camps, it's impossible to know what kind of drugs they were administered in Xinjiang, she says. *Not her real name

The tiger chair

Ospan* spent a year in a re-education camp. He says his mind and body were crushed by the tortures he experienced in a tiger chair - a steel apparatus with handcuffs that restrains the body in painful positions. Aged about 50, this former shepherd, who took refuge with his family in eastern Kazakhstan, is no longer fit for work. Physically wrecked and prone to headaches, he mourns the loss of his memory above all. 'I used to know a lot of songs and I loved to sing; I also knew poems by heart ... Now, I can't sing any more, I can't remember the words,' he says. *Not his real name

Broken families and imprisonment

Aikamal Rashibek saw the dreadful efficiency of the CCP's brainwashing on her husband, Kerimbek Bakytali, after he was released from a Chinese psychiatric hospital. 'He disappeared for a year. When he came back, he didn't tell me anything about what happened to him. He was highly unhinged, always nervous, and got angry whenever I asked questions. He couldn't stop repeating that he hated Kazakhstan now, and that he wanted to go back to China with the kids to give them a Chinese education, says Aikamal. They are now separated.

Missing loved ones in China’s camps

In March 2017, Miyessar Muhedamu, left, a Uyghur woman, was arrested in Xinjiang under the pretext that she had studied Arabic in Egypt when she was young. Her husband, Sadirzhan Ayupov, right, and her three children have not seen her since. Now that Miyessar has left the camp, Sadirzhan receives a short call every few months. He suspects she might have suffered abuse, yet Miyessar can’t speak freely. ‘She told me she’d been in a re-education camp, and that she’d been released. When I ask her what she went through there, she doesn’t answer,’ says Sadirzhan.

Life after fleeing China

Sent to a re-education camp in 2018 at the age of 64, Yerke* saw her health quickly deteriorate. Locked a tiny cell with dozens of other women, she almost lost the use of her legs due to the cold floor she had to lie on. She was in the camp when she learned of her son’s death: pressured by the Chinese authorities, he took his own life. After her release, Yerke fled to Kazakhstan with some family members, but two of her children remain in China *Not her real name

Forced labour and confessions

Dina Nurdybay, 32, was arrested in Nilka county, Xinjiang, because her traditional Kazakh clothing business made her a separatist, according to the Chinese authorities. She spent 11 months between two re-education camps, a CCP school and a forced-labour sewing factory. After proving she was capable of being ‘well behaved’ and having performed a self-criticism in front of the whole village, Dina was released and managed to escape when she obtained a week’s leave to visit her ailing father in Kazakhstan.

Cultural genocide

China’s repression of ethnic minorities also involves cultural genocide. As Muslim rituals are forbidden in Xinjiang, people are trying to keep their traditions alive across borders. Here, a family is praying together in Kazakhstan after the death of one of their relatives in Xinjiang. They could not repatriate the body because the border between the two countries was closed at the time.

(continue reading)

[xomarilyn]

Bio and Info

The Basics:

Name:  Marilyn Elizabeth Danes

Face Claim: Amanda Seyfried

Age:  34

Birthdate:  February 3, 1988

Neighborhood: Maple Hills

Occupation: Music Teacher at East Haven Middle School

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship Status: Single

More Facts:

Nicknames: Mari, Mar, Firefly

Positive Personality Traits: Optimistic, Quirky, Confident, Friendly, Compassionate

Negative Personality Traits: Flaky, Naive, Defensive when she needs to be.

Likes:  Animals, music, nature, clothes, movies and music from older time periods

Dislikes: Rudeness, bullying,

Hobbies and Interests:  Writing music and preforming, writing poems, metaphysical things

Family:  Mildred Danes (mother), Jayne Danes (twin sister), Lavona Danes (grandmother - deceased) Jonathan Moonan (father - unknown to her)

Other Relationships:

Pets: Phantom - grey horse. Errol - miniature donkey. Daphne and Freddie - cats. Georgia - Australian sheppard

Physical Appearance:

Height:  5'2

Hair color: Blonde

Eye color: blue-green

Nationality/Heritage: American born, of unknown European descent

Tattoos of piercings:  Lotus flower on right hip, lunar phases on back of neck, An alien smoking above her right knee

Distinguishable Traits:  Blonde hair, large green eyes, singing voice.

Quick Run down:

Trigger warnings: Abandonment, Child Neglect, Foster care, Death

Has a fraternal twin sister and was born in New Orleans to an aspiring journalist that had big career goals that didn't involve having children. Marilyn has never met her father but knows he is a jazz musician

Was taken into foster care along with her sister at age three due to her mother's negligence when she would leave the girls alone in the motel she lived in to enjoy her social life. From then on, she lived in foster care. The twins became separated for a few years and then both were able to live with their maternal grandmother in East Haven when they were ten years old.

Marilyn is Granddaughter to a woman who was known as the "town witch" in the 70's and has a love of supernatural things and astrology herself. She believes in past lives and loves vintage things from different time periods.

While living with her grandmother she learned to play guitar and started preforming. In high school, she started her own rock band and recorded an album. One of her songs became a hit and she had the opportunity to sign with a record label but turned it down because they wanted to make a lot of changes to her music. Instead she studied teaching.

When her grandmother passed away she inherited her house and built a small farm. Throughout the year she offers chariot rides for tourists when she's not teaching.

Currently works at the middle school as a band and music teacher.

Wanted Connections

Twin sister Former bandmates Friends from the school where she works Childhood best friend Romantic interest Hook ups or friends with benefits Friends she knew in New Orleans Neighbors Other pet owner friends

Full Bio:

Trigger warnings: Abandonment, Child Neglect, Foster care, Death

Marilyn Elizabeth Danes was born, along with her fraternal twin sister, Jayne in New Orleans. Bringing twins into the world was the last thing on the mind of their young mother, Mildred Danes, who had recently moved there as an aspiring magazine journalist. She had a fondness for men who could play music and had previously gone on tour with bands who swore they would be the next big thing, but never made did beyond gigs ad seedy bars and small music festivals. Their father was believed to be a struggling saxophone player she had met at an art gallery party, but since she never confronted the man, he never knew of their existence. She struggled to afford to take care of the girls, while refusing money from her estranged mother in Vermont.

When Marilyn and her sister were three, their mother established a more permanent home at a local motel. She would leave them there alone all day while she worked and tried to enjoy the active social life she had before she became pregnant. They were there for a few months when a neighbor found the twins one day playing near the pool, dirty, hungry and alone. She reported their mother to social services. Mildred was arrested and Marilyn and her sister eventually went into foster care, while their grandmother fought hard to gain custody of them, feeling they should be with family and because she had never met them. Their mother was sentenced to several years in prison, and they were taken to visit here a few times a year as they grew up. At first things were going well as they lived with a family who treated them well, but eventually they were moved. There were a few years when Marilyn and Jayne were separated and sent to live in different homes, and by age ten her grandmother finally became both of their legal guardian.

They were sent to live with her in East Haven in 1998. Having never had a healthy family connection aside from her sister, Marilyn grew to love her grandmother, Lavona, despite her odd behavior. She had once been feared by locals, known the town witch and was rumored to put hexes on those she didn't like. Though she did claim to talk to spirits, read tarot cards, nothing could have been further than the truth. Their grandmother showed them nothing but kindness and love from the moment they arrived, and Marilyn soon adapted her interests. Lavona was also a collector and had an attic full of very old and interesting artifacts from various time periods. Including old musical instruments. Marilyn loved to play around with these items, and look a likeness to an old guitar that had belonged to her late grandfather. She taught herself to play after a lot of practice. She started to love singing and putting on shows for the neighborhood. As she entered her teen years she began writing music and joined the school band, learning other instruments.

At age nineteen she formed her own indie rock band which was called Four Winds. They started off doing gigs at local events, playing cover songs and trying to get Marilyn's orginal songs heard. They recorded an album in 2011 and gave it to a local radio station. One of their songs became a local hit and was played often. She tried sending their album to several record labels, but most of them rejected it. About a year later, when the band was almost ready to part ways, she did hear back from one company that liked their hit single.

Marilyn flew to New York to speak with a producer and record label. They said they wanted to promote her song and she signed a contract. However, when she heard the finished product she was not happy with how they had edited it. Furthermore, they wanted to promote Marilyn as a solo artist, which meant leaving her band behind. Although her song did make the charts that year, Marilyn refused to work with the label and after further exploring the music industry, she decided it wasn't a life she wanted for herself. Instead, she took some time off to figure things out. Eventually, she attended East Haven University to get her teaching degree, and also studied music. While she was studying, her grandmother's health started to decline. Marilyn did her best to take care of her, until she couldn't anymore and her grandmother refused to let her drop out of school. She passed away in 2017, and left her home and all of her possessions to Marilyn and her sister.

Losing the only parental figure in her life was a huge blow, and she and her sister didn't want to think about how they would share the home at first. They argued about whether or not they should sell it. In the end they came to a compromise. Marilyn would keep the house, and she would pay out her sister her half of the money using the money she had earned for selling her song. With her remaining inheritance, Marliyn used the money to keep up on the maintenance of her grandmother's home and also built a stable on her property where her horse Phantom lives. During certain months of the year, she offers carriage rides. She especially loves Halloween, when she can share her vast knowledge of the more "haunted" parts of town.

She gained her teaching degree in 2018 and got a job working at East Haven Middle School, as the music teacher. She is also the band coach and spends many hours at the school helping the students discover their passion like she did. She still writes music and preforms the odd gig for events, but having a small taste of fame was enough to keep her humble. Although she and her sister live very different lives, Jayne has always been someone Marilyn considered her confidant, as they have been through the same hardships and trauma and and share a mutual understanding and bond. Her mother has reached out a few times, but Marilyn feels very little connection to the woman and although she has forgiven her, she finds it best to distance herself. To her students and her closest friends she's known for her quirkiness, just like her grandmother, and her bubbly, sweet personality.

[trashfeminabag]

MAJOR TW FOR SA/TRANSMISOGYNY

i've just found out about the practice of "V-coding" - essentially, systematized r-pe of trans women in men's prisons in the US. it's genuinely awful and terrifying how much our bodies are commodified and objectified, to the point where we're acceptable targets for r-pe in the carceral system, and nobody in power gives a fuck. no politician is talking about this, nobody in power that i know of has said anything about wanting to changed the systemic, mass r-pe of trans women.

it goes to show how much trans women - especially trans women who are incarcerated - are still viewed as expendable, 'acceptable targets' by society, not deserving of basic human rights or decency. if this were being done to cis women, people would riot, but not a peep for the use of trans women as modern-day "comfort women" in prisons.

my heart breaks for these women. please, let me know - genuinely - if there's anything i or anyone else could do to help.

[aiden-stevens]

The fluorescent lights aren’t doing him any favors as the throbbing in his head kicks in. Aiden can’t discern whether it’s from his and Nora’s all day summer binge, or if it was from the way his head hit the ground when he was yanked from the fences. And alright, he might have kicked and screamed and gave them all the Hell he could in that moment, but all that drinking caught up to him at that moment.

“I can’t call my mom,” he says simply. There’s a scratch to his voice that has him realize how tired he’s actually feeling. “I can’t.”

Anastasia made it loud and clear when he no-call-no-showed the diner and milked unemployment all those years ago that if he didn’t keep himself on the straight and narrow, he could kiss his place under her roof goodbye. He’s not sure he should take the threat seriously, but he also worries there will be bigger problems if he doesn’t.

“She can’t know about this,” he sighs when he leans his head back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut to try and block out the too-bright lights.

@noralevin

Nora could already see their path to safety in her mind, all of the obstacles that she or both of them had gotten over countless times before, even when they were in far less imminent danger than they were at that moment. They'd been caught before, sure, but now they were older and wiser, and there was no way that fuckass bouncer was going to able to get to them.

She let herself be led easily, heeding Aiden's pull as her shoes scraped across the pavement with the redirection.

Her hands met the barbed wire as she started her less than graceful scramble up, thanks to the alcohol in her system. She was still feeling as arrogant as ever halfway up, before she was grabbed around the waist and pulled down right next to Aiden.

"You motherfu—" she muttered as she thrashed, not knowing exactly who she was talking to but knowing they were fully deserving of the insult. In her flurry of movement, her head turned until she was face to face with a fucking beat cop, who was looking back at her with no small amount of smugness. "Let go of me, you fucking—"

Twenty minutes later, she found herself collapsed on the bench in a holding cell, feeling her hangover coming on prematurely. She was bent over, her head held in her hands.

This wasn't new either, but it was the one old habit that Nora had truly wanted to avoid. They weren't kids anymore, and her relationship with the one person who could absolutely bail them out without repercussions was more irreparably fractured now than it'd ever been before.

She looked over at Aiden, guilt furrowing her brow. "Fuck," she said simply, unable to think of anything more appropriate to say about their current predicament.

@aiden-stevens