#but i would never make those jokes around my conservative aunts

[eats-the-stars]

ok so i’m probably not going to word this the best, but I think I’ve finally convinced my bro-in-law-to-be (white, straight) that he can’t keep making homophobic/racist jokes around the house or out in public. and for context, he’s actually not a very racist/homophobic dude, but when he hangs out with his dude friends (a group that includes one gay dude, a bi guy, and a black guy) they all tend to throw around those kind of jokes in good humor. which is fine if they’re out laughing it up or whatever. but...not around the house, when none of those people are present to reciprocate.

and the bro-in-law-to-be has explained over and over that “my gay/black friend was the one who said this joke so it’s cool for me to tell it” but...his gay friend is not here to laugh at the joke. his black friend is not here to laugh at his joke. The only people in this house are me (white nonbinary ace or lesbian i’m still figuring it out, also autistic), my sister (white, bi), and our straight white dad who is very racist/homophobic but usually keeps it on the down low since he knows that we do not share his views and WILL debate him if he makes a nasty comment.

So our dad is usually quiet about his messed up thoughts...UNLESS someone says something to indicate “Hey, I’m racist/homophobic, just like you!” and makes it a safe space to suddenly start talking about “the Chinese virus” or “businesses should be allowed to refuse service to gays” and all this other horrible stuff, which then means that my sister and I have to go through another grueling debate with our dad about how “eugenics is bad” and “refusing to bake a cake leads to refusing to lease an apartment and it’s a slippery slope” and EVERY TIME the bro-in-law-to-be has been like “wow i didn’t know your dad thought those things” while my sister and I are like “AND WE WOULDN’T HAVE TO HAVE THIS ARGUMENT AGAIN IF YOU STOPPED TELLING THESE JOKES AND ENCOURAGING HIM TO BE OPENLY RACIST/HOMOPHOBIC.”

I can’t believe we had to explain to my bro-in-law-to-be that ppl who are racist/homophobic keep an ear out for these kind of jokes in order to recognize each other. A joke is the safest way for them to test the waters. If it’s poorly received, they can just brush it off and go “oh it was just a joke, guys, it wasn’t serious, I don’t really think those things, haha.” BUT it also provides the option for ppl to laugh and go “oh yes, that’s a good joke, i’ll tell you an equally horrible joke to prove that i share your beliefs.” and BAM, they’ve identified a fellow racist/homophobe/etc. and now know that they can talk openly in front of this person, or look to them for support if an argument breaks out. And then suddenly the space you’re in has the potential to become very ugly very fast if the majority of people signal that they’re comfortable with this, and then, if you’re a person who doesn’t agree, you have to either step up and try to shut that shit down and potentially put yourself at risk (which can range from actual physical risk to the emotional/mental damage that comes with listening to someone say terrible things about a group you belong to).

And my bro-in-law-to-be has the luxury of not belonging to any of these groups. Which means that if he makes a stupid joke at the wrong time that lights the racist/homophobic/ableist fire in the room, he’s not at risk of getting burnt. At most he’s going to be uncomfortable or feel like “wow that’s horrible” but he won’t actually be at RISK in the same way my sister and I will be. The way anyone else in that room who’s black or gay or autistic will be once he starts that ball rolling.

And right now we’re trying to focus on him not starting those fires inside our house, around our dad. Because my sister and I have tried very hard over the years to try to talk our dad out of a lot of his shitty mindsets and it’s slow progress, but we’ve managed to convince him of small things over time. he’s a lot less ableist and sexist, for example. Those were easier to work on because he has three daughters (us) and we milked that angle hard, and because I’m autistic, which we also milked hard since i was able to convince him to look at me as having expertise about disabilities that made him value my opinion. We’ve also made strides on the homophobia front, too. If I ever figure out that i like girls (still working on that) and actually date a girl, I think he would be uncomfortable at first, but he wouldn’t reject me as his daughter or anything. likewise, if my sister (bi) broke up w/her boyfriend and started dating a girl, he would probably accept that. We know this mostly because our dad apparently thought that our youngest sis (the irony is she’s the only straight one) was dating her bff in high school and was cool with it. Might have a harder time if, like, his grandson turned out to be gay (he’s more accepting of lesbians/wlw??), but we’re working on it, and we got him to accept using our trans friend’s chosen name and pronouns instead of his deadname, which took time (i’m still not out to him as nonbinary, tho. my sister and online peeps are the only ppl who know right now). So we’ve made progress!

But THEN my bro-in-law has to throw dad a bone with these lame jokes that are uncomfortable to hear coming out of his mouth in the first place (why is it always a cis straight white guy who thinks he can tell any kind of joke as long as he “doesn’t mean it”?) and so this has brought back a lot of those old beliefs in our dad that we’ve been trying to smother. These last few years under Trump have already set him back, ngl, but bro-in-law-to-be was not helping.

it’s also so hard to try fighting racism in our dad, partly because our area is so white and most of our POC friends don’t live here anymore (so far our best success is directly exposing him to a person belonging to the group he hates, and slowly letting him see that they’re human. he’s so non-confrontational that he’s not going to say anything in front of the person, either, and we supervise the whole time, and inform our friend beforehand–our trans friend volunteered to help us previously). and you can’t just say “black lives matter because they’re human beings with intrinsic value equal to a white life” because...he’s racist. he’ll debate you all day or say “ok ok” and let the subject drop w/out changing his mind. you literally have to force him to regularly have positive reactions w/a real life person to change him. god...it’s like training a dog or exposure therapy or something but it’s the best we’ve got. it’s not like there’s a school where u can send ur racist parents to learn human decency.

and it’s hard because he’s our dad and we love him and it’s hard to look at someone you love and know that he believes that straight white abled lives have more intrinsic value than anyone else...just because. i hate that we live in a society where so many ppl hate each other for these things. and it’s just...up to everyone else in their lives to decide to do anything about it. and even then, it’s so hard. and our dad is just one person, and we’ve had years and the benefit of him loving us enough to listen. i can’t imagine trying to reform a stranger, or tons of ppl all at once...

#2020 #personal #racism #homophobia #it's one thing to hang out w/a bunch of LGBT+ pals and joke around #or to make jokes w/in your marginalized group #like here on tumblr it's generally fine to do that #i can make 'random thing' gave me autism jokes #or joke and say that i'm getting extra vaccines to level up to super saiyan autism #but i would never make those jokes around my conservative aunts #because i know that they genuinely believe that vaccines cause autism #and they would turn my joke into a debate #or literally not gonna lie ask me if i think 'random thing' really did give me autism #ah...but even then it's not the same as my bro-in-law because i AM autistic... #he's making gay jokes even tho he's straight #and like yeah ok w/ur friends who know ur not serious that's fine #but if you're in a room full of strangers and you make a joke like that #you're suddenly opening up a chance for the new topic of discussion to be something like #'should businesses be able to refuse service to gay people?' or 'should autistic ppl be allowed to reproduce?' #and BAM suddenly that space is very hostile for any gay/autistic/etc ppl #while bro-in-law will remain safe because he's not any of those things #which means his silly jokes are really hard for me to find funny at any time actually #because some ppl LITERALLY THINK THOSE THINGS #about ME PERSONALLY #i have to take these things seriously because they can affect my life #and i think it's kind of wild that it's the straight white dude who feels comfortable enough to throw these kind of #unfunny jokes around. like i get it he can just laugh and walk away but uh not everybody can do that #and there's a difference between cracking a gay joke on your liberal college campus #and cracking the same joke at your conservative family reunion #like just...don't do it please

[krispytidalwavesheep]

Hi! I saw that you were interested in requests for Zelda x f!Reader, among others, so I decided to send something and I hope you don’t mind :) An idea based on „We all shipped them together before they made it official because she kept scoffing that she did not like her and yet she always looked at her first whenever someone told a joke just to see if she was laughing too” post I saw some time ago. Basically a reader who is much younger, more optimistic and affectionate than Zelda. Zelda initially maintains her facade, of course, and constantly denies being interested in her. However, everyone, and I mean really everyone, can see what it is really like and they are both just made for each other, despite their apparent opposites. Thanks in advance, have a nice day!

I was/am really nervous about this, but thanks for the prompt! I hope you like it, I wrote this in the middle of the night, while being absolutely sleep deprived. Hope you enjoy! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zelda disliked you from the very beginning, even though she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was your happy-go-lucky attitude or the fact that you were so damn affectionate with everyone, that it almost made her sick. Well, everyone except herself, but she made sure that you understood that you wouldn't stand for such foolish actions. It was kind of pathetic, you hanging of Hilda as you did, and the way you always cuddled up to Ambrose and Sabrina. Who did you think you were, anyway? Nothing more but a nuisance, that's for sure. Zelda couldn't believe that she caved when Sabrina practically begged her to take you in.

Where exactly you came from was still shrouded in mystery. One day you just appeared in the woods, wounded and with amnesia. Of course, Sabrina had to take you in and now everyone was all over you and it annoyed Zelda to no ends. As soon as you got better and more comfortable around everyone, you were practically all over everyone, like a bitch in heat. You even tried to hug Zelda himself a few times, but she made sure that those notions wouldn't occur again. Still, you were so unbelievably nice and cheery, even to her. Disgusting.

You stared at Zelda, who seemed deep in thought and annoyed about something. You were pretty sure that that something was the fact that you were cuddled up to Hilda for some comfort since your night was plagued by nightmares again. Hilda took care of you when Brina brought you to the mortuary and you felt very much thankful for that. You didn't remember a lot of your life before you appeared out of nowhere and with no memories. All that you knew was that you were deadly afraid and hurting all over. Your body was covered in smaller wounds and half of your face was swollen, but the moment you laid your eyes on Sabrina you knew that you would be okay. She had a chaotic but albeit calming aura so you went with her willingly when she took you to her aunts.

At first, you met Hilda and her aura told you all you needed to know about her. She was a protector and she took you in without questioning, taking care of you as if you were one of her own. You trusted her immediately and especially after she helped you through your first nightmare. You met Ambrose next and even though he was cautious of you, he took to you rather fast. You were simply fascinated by everything he told you about magic and mysteries and he liked the audience. Brina and you became fast friends too, even though you didn't agree with everything she did. But she was sixteen and some teenage drama was expected. Especially after what she went through in the past months.

Brina was rather direct and you quite liked that about her. She was like a little sister to you, and she was the first one to muse that you weren't used to affection, which was why she gave it to you willingly. It was kind of cute to see your reactions to physical affection. She knew that it was unusual to trust someone so fast after everything that happened, but you were practically a cinnamon roll and no one ever sensed any weird vibes from you. Except for Zelda of course. But Sabrina had her theory about that...

When you and Zelda first met, the morning after Hilda took you in, you were captivated. You couldn't remember ever seeing a creature more beautiful than her. Her behavior and her aura were completely at odds around you and you wondered why. Especially since her familiar loved you to bits and pieces from the very beginning. Wherever you went, Vinegar Tom was sure to follow and you couldn't sit down without him jumping in your lap and curling up, demanding to be pet. Of course, that was just one more thing Zelda disliked about you. Everything was just affectionate with you, as you were with them, and Vinny's betrayal didn't make it any better.

But still, every time Ambrose told one of his stupid puns her gaze wandered over to you to see you laughing. Although it made her feel weird, she couldn't stop watching you. Just to make sure that you weren't up to something, of course. But everyone, really EVERYONE, had the audacity to imply that she, in fact, liked you very much. Which wasn't true at all. Not in a thousand years.

Her gaze was drawn to you again, as you made cooing noises at Vinny and played with him in front of the hearth, smiling affectionately.

“You're smiling, Zelds,” Hilda smirked and Zelda gave her the patented death glare.

“Whatever you are implying Hilda, I can assure you that it is all in your head,” Zelda huffed and hid behind her paper. Hilda had the audacity to giggle and Zelda gripped the paper just a bit tighter. She tried to ignore you for the rest of the morning, although she wasn't very successful.

“You want some more coffee?” you suddenly asked and leaned over her shoulder, placing your hand between her shoulder blades.

“Remove your hand or I'll cut it off of you,” Zelda just said haughtily, not liking the tingling feeling your hand evoked.

“Sorry, sorry, won't happen again,” you said and held your hands up in a nonthreatening gesture. Which somehow ticked Zelda off even more.

“Remove yourself from the kitchen right now,” she said for good measure and glared you down. Why the heavens did you get so under her skin with just existing? But what happened next shocked everyone deep down to their core. You started yelling.

“What is your fucking problem? Is the fact that I exist that bothersome to you? Why do you hate me so much, what did I ever do to you?! I go out of my way to stay out of your hair and you still so fucking everything you can to make me feel unwelcome! You agreed to me living here, so what. Is. Your. Problem?!” you yelled and to the mortification of everyone, including yourself, you started crying. You stormed out of the house and into the woods, frantically rubbing at your eyes, and before you realized what was happening, you were lost and the sun was disappearing behind the trees...

“Zelda Phiona Spellman! Was that necessary?!” Hilda yelled and glared at Zelda.

“I-I wasn't-”

“That was cruel, even for you Aunt Z,” Sabrina said and grabbed her coat.

“Oh no darling, you stay here. Zelda can go after her and set this right again!” Hilda growled and ripped the paper from Zelda's hands. She was so shocked that she complied and grabbed two coats before she went outside. It was early spring, but it still got cold at night. And Night it would soon be.

Zelda was shaken to her core. You were right, what was wrong with her? Why was she behaving like this, even though you never gave her any reason to? You have been nothing but nice to everyone, helping out where you could, and yet... Zelda felt not like herself around you and that made her angry. Irrationally so. But why? Why did she feel this way around you, the last time she felt like this was when she first met Mambo...oh. Oh no. It couldn't be... her problem wasn't that she disliked you... The problem was that she liked you a bit too much.

Her sub-consciousness must have been so scared of the fact, that it made her dislike you so much. She walked a bit faster after that realization, she had to find you and set things right with you. Apologize.

Zelda was almost frantically running through the forest, using a spell to trace your footprints, but you were faster than her and she cursed her heels. It was getting darker and harder to see, but Zelda knew the forest almost better than her own house. You didn't though, and Zelda found herself sick with worry. She was such a horrible person...

You were shivering in the cold evening, curling yourself into a ball to conserve body heat. You should have taken your coat with you, but you were so angry when you left the house. What exactly was Zelda's problem with you? What did you ever do to deserve such behavior?

You always noticed Zelda looking at you when she thought no one was looking. You even caught the odd smile, unconsciously thrown in your direction when you laughed or played with Vinegar Tom. You always thought that she was shy or something like that, that she liked you but wouldn't be caught dead admitting to it. You heard Hilda and Ambrose talking about how head over heels Zelda must be over you, with all that secret glances and small smiles and you hoped. Hoped, that when enough time passes and you proved that you could be trusted, Zelda would come to like you. Not necessarily as you liked her, but one could hope, after hearing Ambrose and Hilda talk about it, right?

But all your hopes were dashed earlier, when the situation escalated. You were probably no longer welcome at the Spellman house, but you didn't care. No one ever wanted you. You still hadn't got back all your memories, but enough to realize that you were never loved by anyone. Maybe you were too much. Hilda, Sabrina, and Ambrose would come to that realization too. So you should leave now, as long as it is still kind of your choice, but it was so cold, that you couldn't move a muscle.

“Maybe it is better this way...” you mumbled to yourself and closed your eyes.

“Don't you dare to go to sleep, not when I just found you!” an all familiar voice growled and you opened your eyes in shock, looking at Zelda Spellman herself. You just huffed and closed your eyes again. It was just so much easier.

To your utter shock, you felt warm arms wrap around you and the shock was enough for you to open your eyes again. Zelda lied down next to you, pulling you flush against her and somehow you managed to blush.

“We need to get you warmer so that I can bring you back to the house...” Zelda whispered and put the extra coat around both of you. 'Fuck it' you thought and buried your face in Zelda's shoulder. She smelled so good, and you were so tired.

“Don't fall asleep y/n” Zelda urged you and you huffed in surprise.

“You never called me by my name” you whisper and smile. It sounded good coming from her lips.

“Listen y/n I am... I am sorry for how I treated you. It wasn't fair and I regret deeply that it had to escalate like this before I saw reason.”

“'s okay,” you mumble and snuggled a little bit closer. Zelda's hand started rubbing your back gently and she couldn't get over the fact of how right it felt to hold you like this. She was a horrible person for treating you with such resentment when you deserved so much more.

“What I will tell you now, I will tell you just one time, so you better listen, okay?” Zelda mumbled, still rubbing your back.

“Aaaahh there is the Zelda I know and lo-like,” you smile, almost slipping.

“We'll see how deserving of your affections I am when I told you what I need you to tell,” Zelda said, ignoring what you just said for now, even though her heart started to beat faster.

“I am no easy woman. I lash out when I feel vulnerable and my temper is the worst. I treated you like vermin, and you didn't deserve this. I lash out when I feel vulnerable, and I feel that around you, a lot. Even though I didn't realize that until now. I am not as happy-go-lucky as you are, and I am not an affectionate person. At least out in the open. I was told that I am a stone-cold bitch on more than one occasion and I can't help but to agree. I have been hurt y/n, and it pains me to admit, I am afraid that I will get hurt again.”

“Hilda told me what happened. With Blackwood and Mambo Marie. Don't be mad at her, she just wanted to help,” you whisper and Zelda scoffed. You had to smile at that. You two lay like this for a while longer, until you felt how the numb feeling left your extremities.

“I think I'm better now,” you say reluctantly but Zelda didn't let you go just yet, asking for just a little while longer. You wiggled your arms free and wrapped them around Zelda too, slowly and carefully, not to scare her away. Zelda melted instantly into your arms and you smiled. Seems like you weren't the only one starved of affection. Stone cold bitch my ass, you thought and nuzzled a little closer.

“I'm gonna be brave now, okay? I like you very much Zelda, and somehow I think you like me too, don't think I didn't notice the way you look at me when you feel like no one is looking. The point I am trying to make is, that I wouldn't dream of hurting you, at least not willingly. I can be a massive idiot sometimes, but I want to get to know the real you. The one that hides behind all those walls of fear and hurt and I want to... just be there,” you mumble and to your utter shock you heard small sobs coming from Zelda.

“Hey, it's gonna be okay... Sorry if that was too much, I just told you what felt right!” you say and leaned back to look at Zelda. You were panicking. Did you say something wrong? But Zelda just took your face into her hands and bestowed the softest kiss to your forehead. It felt like an absolution.

“No one ever told me that they wanted to get to know the real me. I can't promise you that I will be able to show you my true self, but I will try,” she whispered and buried her face in your neck.

“That's good enough for me.” You said and cuddled closer... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Still taking prompts, and since schools are closed due to Covid I have a lot of time to write and imrpove!

#Zelda Spellman x Reader #Zelda x Reader #caos #Zelda Spellman

[obsidianfr3sk]

true colors

@renegadesnet event 10: pride

↪ [ “But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things. Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.” ]

Summary: Two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore. 

Simon wanted a bigger flag. 

No. He wanted two. The biggest pride flags he could find.

AO3

Hello, friends!! I hope you’ve been having an excellent pride month and have been eating a lot rainbow cake and pissing off a lot of conservatives with the mere fact of your wonderful existence:’) As my contribution to this month and the event organized by @renegadesnet, I decided to write a fic focused on my favorite gay dads and their sons (bc I’m me, and you should have seen this coming.) 

Before you read, I want to give a trigger warning: at the start of a fic I talk about a homophobic attack, which is not graphic or violent per se (it’s someone in the middle of the night taking away the flag they put outiside the house), and I do discuss about internalized homophobia during some parts of the story. If you read it and are sensitive to this kind of stuff, proceed with caution and take care of yourself <3

Also, this entry is a collaboration with my talented mother @healing-winston-pratt, who is going to be uploading some fanart of this in a near future, so keep an eye on that👀 she’s the best skjhkjds thank you for accepting to collaborate, I feel this is a great bonding activity and I hope we can do this more often✨

I need to update my tag list because a lot of the people who were included are not active as active as they were before/changed their URLs. But I’m going to tag @the-wee-woo-rita @lackadae @all-weather-is-bad @chiyuki-hiro bc you guys are the only ones who are still active users who I had on my previous tag list lol

With that said, I hope you enjoy this fic. I think that despite the angsty parts, it came out really fluffy and domestic, it was fun to write. And to all my queer silbings who are reading this: I am very proud of you.  

But I see your true colors shining through.

I see your true colors, and that's why I love you.

So don't be afraid to let them show.

Your true colors,

true colors are beautiful like a rainbow

Simon couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know he was gay.

There was a time when he didn’t know he was gay, of course. He was probably too young to even comprehend the meaning behind that word. And there was also a moment in his life when he felt embarrassed about it, and sad, and angry, and really, really scared, and probably thought that no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to be happy living the life he wanted to live.

That the pain was never going to end. That he was going to be miserable for the rest of his existence, and that maybe, there was no point in existing if he was going to stay like that until the day he died.

But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things.

Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.

That was the reason why, the first year after the Day of Triumph, he told Hugh they should get a rainbow flag for their house. They went to one of the first stores that opened at the mall (that had just been remodeled after twenty years of being abandoned) and bought one at a not so affordable price. Simon offered himself to install it on one of the fence pillars and had to spend thirty minutes listening to Hugh telling him that maybe he should let him do it, that the ladder Kasumi had lent them was ratty, and that Simon was going to fall.

Fortunately, Simon didn’t. He did almost fall, though, when he was about to pass out from stress because seeing Hugh getting all anxious, made Adrian cry and he started to basically beg him to come down, given that now he was convinced he was going to fall, and hearing his dad saying “Look what you’ve done to the kid, Simon” didn’t help at all to make Adrian (or Simon) feel better.

That night, there was a thunderstorm and Adrian used it as an excuse to sleep on their bed. As soon as he cried himself to sleep, two hours later, after their dads did everything in their power to calm him down, hugging him, giving him kisses, and assuring him his aunt Tamaya wasn’t going to let the storm hurt them, Simon raised his hand to high-five Hugh and tell him that they were amazing parents, just to realize he was already asleep. Simon silently judged him for sleeping so soundly while his son was having a crisis instead of sleeping.

When he woke up (at five in the morning) Adrian was looking out their window, with the Baby Indomitable blanket on his shoulders. The sky was still cloudy, but it wasn’t raining anymore.

“Darling, what are you doing?,” Simon told him. “Today’s Sunday. Let your daddy and I get some more sleep—”

“The storm took our flag,” Adrian blurred out.

Hugh was already awake too. “What?”

“You said the storm wasn’t going to hurt us,” Adrian said, turning around to see them, “but the storm took our flag.”

Simon got out of bed, looked through the window...

And, yes, the flag was completely gone.

But for some reason, Simon knew it hadn’t been the storm.

“Why would the storm do something like this?” Adrian asked.

Simon didn’t know how to answer that. Luckily, Hugh did.

“Because the storm is homophobic, son.”

Adrian laughed out loud and then asked his dads if they could have pancakes for breakfast. He had already forgotten about the storm and the flag.

They didn’t. Neither of them ever forgot about it.

While Simon and Adrian ate their pancakes, Hugh went to his office because, according to him, he needed to check something. When Adrian finished his breakfast and went back to his dads’ room to watch TV, Simon stayed in the kitchen, doing the dishes, and Hugh finally came downstairs. He was pretty quiet, and Simon thought that it probably was because he had told him to eat the burnt pancakes he didn’t dare to throw away, but after he finished them all, he said:

“I lied.”

Simon threw a glance at him. “When did you lie?”

“When I said the storm was homophobic,” Hugh answered.

“Well, of course, you lied, love. Storms don’t have strong political opinions about gay people.”

Hugh didn’t laugh. “What I mean is— that it wasn’t the storm.”

Every joke Simon’s brain could come up with disappeared at that moment. So he continued doing the dishes, and Hugh, thinking he hadn’t made himself clear, continued talking.

“It was someone else. It was a person. I saw them on—”

“I know,” Simon interrupted him. “I know. I’ve always known.”

But even if Simon knew, he still told Hugh to show him the footage because four eyes were better than two (especially considering that the owner of those first two eyes needed to wear glasses). It was all useless, though; the storm made the image all blurry, and the only thing they could see was someone taking it and running away in the middle of the night.

Simon wanted to think that it was just some dumb teen whose friends had  challenged him to do it. But when it came to things like those one never really knew.

On Monday, they had promised Adrian to take him to the park that was a few blocks away so they could teach him how to fly a kite, but the thought of going out made him feel as if something bad was going to happen to them if they did, so Simon told Adrian that he and Hugh were feeling sick and that they would stay in their room to get some rest. Adrian asked them if they minded that he stayed there too because he was in the middle of watching a movie he had never seen before.

“Only if we can watch it with you,” Simon answered.

It was a weird day to be alive. They really just stayed there, watching silly cartoons with their kid and listening to him ranting about the weird proportions those characters had.

During the afternoon, Adrian told them he was hungry, so Simon went downstairs to look for something they could eat. He was thinking that maybe they should order something from that Chinese restaurant Tamaya had taken him the other day, when Hugh entered the kitchen and told him Adrian had  asked him if he could bring him water.

Simon felt his hands were trembling while he looked inside his wallet for the paper where he had written the restaurant’s phone number.

“Do you want to get another flag?” Hugh asked him.

And something hurt.

Something hurt inside of him. Something started to cry, and to scream, and to flicker, trying to make him invisible to the world.

And it told him, the same way Adrian had told him he was hungry, that someone had taken him by surprise and made a deep cut on his chest.

But Simon didn’t allow it to come out.

He just said: “No.”

And Hugh answered him: “Me neither.”

He called the Chinese restaurant to order some food, while Simon went to their room with Adrian again and cuddled with him, trying to tend to the wounds of that something that was bleeding out inside of him.

Little Simon was crying, and screaming, and flickering, and needed adult Simon to take care of him.

The next day, they talked about the incident with the rest of the Council during their lunch break. It was one of those few occasions the six of them were together in the same room during their work hours. Tamaya was furious about the flag situation. She ranted for a good five minutes without anyone interrupting her about how fucking horrible people were and that she was going to find that little piece of shit and cut his hands off. Kasumi nodded in approval while drinking some horchata she had bought for herself, probably thinking about how to ask Tamaya to let her join her revolution (something she didn’t need to do, since Tamaya always included Kasumi in everything she did). Evander, on the other hand, was very quiet, something that made him feel a little bit relieved because he was not a sensitive person and Simon didn’t want him to... Evander  the situation.

He didn’t say anything insensitive that day, though.

In fact, he said something… helpful, even.

“What about a flag made of light?” 

Hugh rubbed his eyes and Simon knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

Because he said that phrase constantly.

“Shut the fuck up, Evander.”

But Evander didn’t shut up. “Dude, think about it. No one would be able to take down a flag made of light.”

And everyone realized that, now, it was not only one of those strange occasions when the six of them got together to have lunch during their work hours; it was also one of those strange occasions when Evander had an idea that was actually good.

So after spending another hour discussing how they were going to make it work, they decided they were going to lit up the building in rainbow-colored lights.

Tamaya and Hugh were the ones in charge of almost all the operation because Evander said he had already given them the idea, so he didn’t need to do anything else (and then got mad at Hugh when he told the media he was the one who came up with it). Kasumi helped them, but was especially insistent about putting a trans pride flag somewhere in the building, and after they agreed with her, she personally hung it on the main entrance of Headquarters.

They started turning the lights on each night of June since that yeat.

Hugh and Simon still didn’t get a flag. Three nights after they told their friends about what had happened during the thunderstorm, Simon was woken up by the sound of someone crashing against the trash cans and almost jumped out of the window with his dagger  on hand to slay whoever was trying to break into their house, but when he peeked out to see what was going on, he realized the “robber” was Kasumi, who had put a bunch of small pride flags on some pots they kept on their porch and started crying as soon as she realized Simon was watching her, not because she was upset the surprise she had for them had been ruined, but because now she was covered in trash.

(That week was like a sign Georgie was sending them from the afterlife to tell them they needed to install a better security system.)

Those were the only flags they kept around the house. They were small and discreet, and, most importantly, no one had taken them away. Why? Well— because they listened to Georgie’s sign and installed a better security system. Not because there weren’t any more homophobes out there who were willing to do it.

Until that moment, those flags (the little ones Kasumi had given them in a rather unconventional way and the one made of light that Evander had come up with) had been more than enough for them. But, two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore.

Simon wanted a bigger flag.

No. He wanted two.

The biggest pride flags he could find.

 ***

That was the reason why, after having pancakes for breakfast (because it had rained during the night), he took the car, took the other three people living in that house with him, and after he was able to read the map, they arrived at a store that, among other things, sold flags like the ones they were looking for.

“I want one too,” Adrian told them when they were at the flag section of the store. “For my room, you know. And I want to get ones for Danna and Nova because I don’t think they have any. They would’ve told me.”

Usually, when Adrian asked for something Simon hadn’t agreed to buy him, like some candy, an action figure, or a pair of sneakers, he would turn around and ask him if he had the money to buy any of those things himself, which would anger him so much he would stop wanting that certain thing.

But that day, he felt like buying them everything they wanted. As if money grew on trees (something he always told his kids didn’t happen.)

“Of course, darling,” he answered, “get them everything you want. It’s pride month.”

“It’s May 31th,” Max said. He was inside the shopping cart Hugh had grabbed the second they entered. It was something he always did, even if they weren’t going to buy a lot of things because, according to him, it felt weird and wrong not to.

“It’s almost pride month,” he corrected himself.

“So can I get something for Nova?” Adrian asked again, just to make sure.

“You can get something for Nova,” Hugh assured him, smiling a little bit.

Adrian quickly turned around and started looking for the flag he wanted while texting Nova about something Simon couldn’t read (not like he was trying to, anyway).

After making sure Adrian stayed on the same aisle as them, they started walking around, gazing at the flags and posters available. Simon felt pretty progressive because he was able to name every single sexuality and gender they were supposed to represent. He imagined Hugh was doing the same thing, but with a lot more difficulty than him. He kept his eyes fixated on each flag longer than Simon did, as if he were trying to remember what they meant, and when he did, he pushed the cart (with Max still inside of it, playing a game on Hugh’s phone because he had forgotten his tablet at home), and the cycle began again.

But suddenly, Simon saw ones that he didn’t recognize.

After three seconds of standing in front of those little flags, someone hit him in the butt with their cart. He turned around immediately, ready to say a really threatening “Hey” to whoever had done it.

Hugh was the only other person who was there. He had been the one who had hit him with the cart.

Suddenly, Simon felt a little bit stupid for thinking someone else had done it.

The two of them maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds until Hugh started looking at his own hands grabbing the cart’s handle.

“Simon.” Before Simon could ask him what happened, he added, with a deep voice: “Move.”

Simon didn’t move. Instead, he hit the cart with his hips, just out of spite. Hugh hit him again with it, making Simon feel the unexpected need to grab the cart with his two hands and use his own weapon against him, but Max was there and they couldn’t act like kids in front of him. So he just hit the cart with his hips again, a little bit harder than the first time, and left it there.

He realized he was just going to be wasting his time asking Hugh if he knew what that flag was supposed to represent.

“Cherub,” he called Max. “Do you recognize this flag?”

Max looked up from the screen. He usually didn’t like it when he called him “cherub” in public, but this time, he didn’t seem mad about it. “Um… no? Ask Adrian—” and continued playing.

Adrian came back with a basket full of pins, and for a second, Simon almost asked him if he really was that naive to believe he was actually going to pay for all of them. But then, he realized that it was only the basket where they kept all of the pins they sold and that Adrian had taken it to show them to them.

“Look, they have so many pins here—” he started taking random pins “—this is the aromantic flag… this is the genderfluid flag—”

“Interesting,” Hugh interrupted him, “but which flag is that one?” and pointed at the one Simon didn’t recognize.

Max took a random pin from the basket and started looking at it with curiosity. Adrian almost didn’t pay attention to it, and after a few seconds, he said: “That one’s yours.”

Simon frowned and took one. It was a handheld flag with green and blue stripes, with a white one in the middle. He touched the polyester with his fingertips as if that was going to give him the ability to communicate with it.

“But we don’t have a flag,” Hugh told Adrian. “I’ve heard of the lesbian fl—”

Adrian took a pin of the lesbian flag. “This one.”

“Yeah— but gay men don’t have one.”

“The rainbow is ours,” Simon said, without taking his eyes away from the blue and green flag he was holding. “Like, it’s for all queer people.”

Hugh directed his attention to Adrian again. “You’re messing with us.”

“I do mess with you a lot,” Adrian admitted, “but this time I’m not because if I do and you get mad, you won’t buy me all the stuff I want to get.”

“Huh.”

Simon knew Adrian and Max were a lot of things, but "dumb" wasn't one of those. And Adrian was especially intelligent when it came to convincing his parents to buy him things.

So he decided to believe him.

“Well, I like it,” he said. Then, he asked Hugh: “Do you like it?”

Hugh grabbed one and observed it for a while. “I like that it has blue on it,” he finally answered, nodding a little bit.

Simon noticed Max was spacing out while playing with the pin he had taken, so he waved the flag on his face, making him laugh and sneeze because the damn thing had a lot of invisible dust Simon didn't notice at first.

“Oh, sh—”

“You know? Maybe we should get two of these,” Hugh said, waving it too, but in his case, not on the face of one of their kids. “For our offices.”

“Matching flags, very romantic.”

Max rubbed his nose. “Why don't you get a big one for the house?”

Simon quickly started to look everywhere on that aisle, and he saw a lot of big versions of the flags he had recognized before (and some of the ones Adrian had mentioned), but there were no gay flags in sight.

“Maybe next year, I guess,” he shrugged. “I don't think they have them here yet.”

He grabbed two of the rainbow flags that were there, inside their respective plastic bags, gave them to Max, and he put them on his lap, still holding that pin. Simon made a quick mental note to remind his future self they needed to pay for that (he didn’t know if it had to with the fact that Max had been spending a lot of time with Maggie, Nova’s sister, but he had developed this weird habit of stealing the most random objects one could think of. Luckily, he limited himself to stealing things from his dads and, one time, from a store.) (Kids went through weird phases when they were Max’s age.)

(Because… it was a phase, right?)

Adrian received a text. “Danna says that she already has a flag, so I’m getting her a pin,” he said after reading it. “And Nova says she wants one too.” Then, his whole face lit up. “And I could get one too so we match.”

“Copycat,” Simon accused him, jokingly. “Your dad and I got matching flags, and now you want to get matching pins with your girlfriend.”

Hugh shook his head, disappointed. “I cannot believe you have betrayed your own family like this.”

They stayed at the store another 30 minutes to buy some other things they needed for the house, and from time to time, when he or Hugh grabbed something, they pretended they didn’t see Adrian and said: “Um, but the copycat may be listening” to a point he told them to stop, and refused to forgive them until they agreed to buy him the flag he didn’t intend to get anymore, but now was going to.

He got the last bisexual flag there was at that store.

 ***

The first time the four of them were together in their room was last June. Something went wrong with the A/C system of the entire house and the only room where one could stay without having a heatstroke was theirs because their A/C hadn’t broken down for some reason. Adrian and Max were sleeping on the air mattress until Simon (who hadn’t been able to sleep lately) heard that one of them woke up and asked Hugh something. He sat down on the bed, at the same time Hugh moved a little bit to allow Adrian to lay down between the two of them.

Then, in the middle of the dark, his eyes met Max’s.

He looked tiny. Young. Pretty young.

And far away.

Simon couldn’t remember who did it. He didn’t remember who talked that night. It could have been him, even. But he was sure that, at that moment, someone whispered:

“Get in here, kid.”

And Max obeyed. He crawled, raised his arms towards them, and Hugh grabbed him carefully by the collar of his shirt and placed him between him and Adrian.

It was a peaceful night. The bed was big enough for the four of them, and Simon was able to sleep and actually rest for the first time in weeks.

At least until their A/C turned off with a weird sound, and the four of them woke up at the same time, sweaty, uncomfortable, and almost at 11 AM, not because they weren’t necessarily willing to stay there longer, but because the heat was starting to get unbearable and suddenly the bed was too small for three adults and a little kid that was not that little anymore.

“This isn’t a room, this is a— a freaking oven,” Hugh said, while Adrian tried to push him out of bed to get the hell out of there and seek comfort on the air mattress he had abandoned in the middle of the night.

“And we are the... cookies,” Max giggled.

“The turkey,” Simon added.

Max turned around. His whole face was red and his hair was a little bit wet. “The lasagna.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks; a discreet way to check if he had a fever. “The cake.”

“The ham.”

“The—”

“Dad. Move.”

Later that day, Simon called someone to fix the A/C, and that was the end of the story.

When they arrived at the house, Adrian wanted to hang his flag as soon as possible, on one of his room’s walls, but Simon insisted that they should iron it first so it looked nicer. Hugh said that he was planning on ironing the ones they had bought for the house and offered Adrian to do the same with his, but when he insinuated that he didn’t trust him enough not to mess up his flag the same way he had messed up his favorite shirt (the one he wanted to wear to take Nova to a nice place during her birthday), Hugh reminded him that the only reason he kept doing that for him was that Adrian didn’t know how to iron yet, and decided that he was going to use that moment as a teaching opportunity. Max made the mistake of laughing at his brother when he thought no one was paying attention to him, but Adrian was and dragged Max into the teaching opportunity with him.

Simon joined too. Just because.

And suddenly, the four of them were in their room again.

With the A/C on, of course.

He didn't know if Hugh had noticed, but he had been so invested in his own explanation, that after he finished ironing the two rainbow flags, he started ironing Adrian’s without realizing it. Adrian, instead of giving up and stop pretending he was paying attention, was looking, kind of mesmerized, how he opened the bag of his blue, purple, and magenta flag, and proceeded to put it on the ironing board, now telling him that when Georgie had tried to teach him how to iron his clothes, she accidentally burnt Evander.

Simon was half-listening to the story, half-listening to the music video that Max was watching on the TV. He was sitting on a big and old ottoman they had bought a long time ago but had never found the perfect place to put it and just stayed there for years until they forgot about it. Max was in front of him, sitting on the floor and resting his back on the ottoman, while he covered his blond hair with small butterfly hair clips he had found at the store and bought just because he thought they were cute (who knows, maybe Nova wanted them for Maggie, or Kasumi could use them for herself, she loved them when she was little).

When all the hair clips were on Max's hair, he took a small mirror they kept in the bathroom (but Simon borrowed it for a minute) and gave it to him so he could see the final result.

“Look at me,” Max exclaimed, laughing. “I look so pretty.”

Simon grabbed one of the hair clips and pulled it a little. “Butterfly hair clips are a popular trend this time of the year.”

“This is definitely going to make me the most popular kid in the playground.”

“Definitely.”

He leaned forward to start taking the butterfly hair clips off Max's hair and was putting them on Max’s open hand when he noticed that he hadn’t let go of the pin they bought him at the store.

(Simon did remember to pay for the thing, but if he hadn’t done it, Max wouldn’t have said anything.)

“That was really nice of you,” Simon said.

Max looked at him, confused. “What?”

“Getting a rainbow pin—” he took his other hand and started putting the hair clips on it so none of them would get lost “—to show support.”

Max didn't say anything and Simon continued with what he was doing. After the music video finished, and another one started playing, Hugh gave Adrian his flag and told him he could go and hang it in his room, and as soon as Max heard that too, he gave Simon the hair clips and followed his brother out of the room, asking him if he could help him with it.

Simon, after realizing the bag where the hair clips came in had been destroyed by Max punching holes in it with the pin, took one of the empty pill bottles he kept in his drawers and put them there.

He closed the pill bottle and realized Hugh had been gazing at him during all this time, slightly leaning on the ironing board. “What?”

“That’s my pill bottle, Si,” he told him.

“Ah—” Simon pressed his lips “—can I have it?”

“No.” Hugh smiled at him. “Yes, you can.”

“So funny. Come here—” and patted the bed mattress.

Hugh, being extremely careful not to touch the flags he just ironed, lied on the bed and sighed.

“Do you want me to play with your hair?” Simon asked him with a soft voice.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

After a while of the two of them just being silent, he said, “Hey… I heard what you told Max, by the way.”

“The butterfly hair clips trend?”

“The pin thing.”

“What about it?”

Hugh opened his eyes, just a little bit. “Just don't tell Max I told you, all right? Because he told me he wouldn't tell anyone else until he was sure, but… I think it's important the two of us know,” he explained.

Simon was starting to feel his palms get a little bit sweaty. “Okay— but just tell me, please.”

He checked overhearing their conversation one last time, and that the kids were still at Adrian's room. “Max told me a couple of days ago that he has been thinking about… what he likes.”

He stopped playing with his hair for a second. But then, he continued.

It was his way of coping with the feeling of his stomach twisting inside of him. “What he likes?” Hugh nodded again. “Huh. And has he— does he has an idea or—”

“No, he doesn't,” Hugh answered. “He just knows that he doesn't like girls. Or that's what he told me.”

Simon raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “That sounds like a lot of things. Not liking girls.”

Hugh scoffed too. “That's what I told him. And that he can take all the time he needs to figure it out. Because he can—”

“Yes. Yes, of course, he can,” Simon assured, with determination. “Life is longer than we think it is.”

They stayed silent again. And Simon couldn’t help but feel relive inside his head the moment he called Max an ally, feeling his stomach twisting even more at every second it passed.

“I feel bad.”

“Why?”

His palms started to sweat again. “Because I called him an ally.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“You didn’t know,” Hugh repeated.

But Simon didn’t listen. “Si.”

Then, Hugh grabbed him carefully by the wrist, and, a little bit surprised, Simon tilted his head. Hugh usually didn't interrupt him when he was playing with his hair.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“No, what’s wrong with you?” he deadpanned

Simon knew him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just his way of asking things. Especially when he was genuinely worried and didn’t think about modulating his tone so it It fitted the situation better.

He sighed. Because he didn’t want to lie to him. “I assumed Max was straight.”

As soon as he said it, he realized how silly it had sounded phrased like that. But he also noticed his voice had broken and he had to put a hand on his mouth so he didn’t start crying.

And Hugh, instead of saying the encouraging phrase he expected him to say…

He smiled.

And for some reason, that made him want to cry even more. “Ew, why are you smiling?” he asked.

Hugh took his time to answer him. “Oh, it’s nothing.  I think I'm just… happy.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Hugh smiled more. “I know, love, I know… It's just one of those things…” he tried to find the right words this time. “One of those things I didn't think we were going to go through together,” he kept saying. “Like… we're going to be together when Max finally discovers who he really is. Like we did with Adrian. And like other people did with us. And that makes me happy.”

Simon wanted to tell him to shut up and let him cry and be dramatic as much as he wanted because he considered he deserved it. But he tried to do it, the only thing that could come out of his lips was almost imperceptible “Yeah…” and then, a small tear started running down his face. Hugh quickly noticed this and wiped it away with his finger. Simon scoffed and looked away, rubbing his nose.

“Hey…” and he moved aside so Simon could lay beside him.

The space they had was a little too small but he didn’t mind because now he had an excuse to be closer to him.

And there it was again. Little Simon. Little Simon was there again with them.

Just that this time he wasn’t crying, or screaming, or even flickering. He was just… existing.

And all he wanted to do was to exist.  

When Hugh held him that way, sometimes he felt as if it was the first time he did it. Which made Simon (and the sad, angry and scared part of Simon) wonder if there was a sad, angry and scared part of Hugh that also craved that comfort and validation, and if it was the one who hugged that younger version of Simon until they convinced each other that everything was fine.

That there was nothing wrong with neither of them.

Because sometimes it was as if people didn’t remind them that as many times as they needed. So the only option they had was to be there for the other, and tell him that it was okay to hug, to kiss, to touch, and to share until the one who was talking ended up convincing both of them.

Love wasn’t temporary.

And their love was as powerful as they wanted it to be.

Those younger versions of themselves wanted to stay like that forever every single time. But their adult versions knew they couldn’t do it because they had other responsibilities that they needed to attend.

Installing those two pride flags that were next to them, for example.

Their younger versions were excited to do that, but they also asked them if they could rest together a little bit longer. And neither of them had the heart to tell them no.

Hugh started to play with a lock of Simon’s hair. “We’ll be there to catch him.”

He knew he wasn’t talking about either of them. Even if, with his eyes closed, he could see little Hugh and little Simon holding each other’s hands and throwing themselves into the world, a little less sad, and angry, and scared than before, without being sure if there was going to be someone down there to catch them if everything went wrong.

“Together.”

And Simon agreed. “Together.”

 ***

“He’s going to fall.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“No, he’s not,” Hugh told Max. “I’m here.”

“But what if—”

“Done,” Simon announced before Max could even finish his sentence. “Now, let’s just hope these things stay there as long as possible, because this ladder makes me anxious. I was trembling while putting the first flag.”

Max clicked his tongue. “It’s a windy day. The wind could have pushed the ladder or something.”

Now it was Hugh’s turn to roll his eyes. “Take my hand.”

Simon went down the ladder without letting go of his hand. Then, while Hugh took it and quickly went inside the garage to put it there, Adrian pricked his little brother up with his own rainbow flag pin, and in response, Max punched him in the stomach with all his might (which wasn’t that much). Adrian laughed and pretended to be hurt, but immediately asked him if he wanted him to help him with his pin.

Simon noticed that Adrian had already put his pin of the bisexual flag on his clothes, and watching him pull Max a little bit closer so he didn’t prink him again (now by accident), while Max gazed at his hands, trying to memorize his movements so he could do the same thing when he wanted to wear that pin again, made his mouth curved into a smile.

When his husband came back from the garage, he thought he was going to tell them to stop blocking the sidewalk and get in the house so they could continue with their day. But instead of doing that, he walked towards them and looked at their waving flags, flying on their mansion for the first time in years.

Adrian grabbed Max by the waist and carried him on his shoulders so he could have a better view. And he realized that there would be a day when they would throw themselves into the world completely alone, without knowing how people were going to act and aware that two of them were brave enough to take whatever blows that they were going to throw at them.

But they weren’t going to do it alone. Because Hugh, Simon, and their hurting parts weren’t going to spend a day without reminding them that they were going to be there, ready to catch them every single time they needed it.

Simon started to look for Hugh’s hand just to realize, Hugh was already looking for his too, and when they found each other, he couldn’t contain himself and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Then, Hugh smiled and kissed him back, this time, on the corner of his lip.

Simon felt proud of what they were.

He was really proud.

And he hoped they were proud too.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #adrian everhart #max everhart #everhart-westwood family #the warden and the captain are sitting in a tree #obsi's writs #i should get an oscar for the homophobic storm joke

[nightswithkookmin]

Hi I just want to ask something. Do you think Jungkook has been always like/love Jimin the way he is before or just when he started to glow up. I'm just asking this bc you know Jungkook has been always rank Jimin last on looks or said he look different without makeup before. I know he didn't meant harm to Jimin but do you think Jimin has been trying to look good and go on extreme diet to be loved by Jungkook or Jungkook has been always trying to hide his feelings for him but act tough

Huh?...

What an interesting question....

For a moment there I thought I had already discussed this in my blog posts? Chileee.

Now you'd have to specify which period in time you consider a glow up point for Jimin. Do you mean the period of 2014/15 when he was starving himself, passing out on stage and bleeding through his nose to stay anorexic? *Side eyeing you.

To me, Jimin's 'glow up' coincided with their debut in 2013. Those fine abs, sculpted muscles yet soft toned feminized features- sorry Jimin, you weren't fooling no one.

This was also the period I noticed JK showing overt signs of sexual and emotional attraction towards Jimin. Jimin just seemed oblivious to it. And he would begin his own whipped journey around 2015/16 in my opinion.

Personally, I believe JK fell first for Jimin and 'turned' him- turned for lack of a better word. I don't buy into this whole Jimin fell first JK fell harder rhetoric.

But I think JK's interest in Jimin began long before this period. I don't think Jk had fully grasped the concept of his own sexuality much less to have come to terms with it in any time before 2012- before Jimin arrived in Bangtan- ok maybe he had a vague idea of it, but I do believe Jimin was his sexual and romantic awakening.

Jk and Jimin have two very distinct and opposite idol personas. I keep saying this.

Since we don't know them in person, I think it's safe to assume every aspect of them we experience on screen is a persona.

That persona is a facade, a curated wall on which they project bits and pieces of their true self and often put up a performance of this identity for our consumption.

In Jk's persona, he likes to retract and conceal aspects of his true personality and censor himself a lot while JM likes to amplify and exaggerate his true personality and put up a performance of it.

As I've said, it's mainly due to their backgrounds. JK was given a lot of leeway in his upbringing which he feels puts him at a disadvantage because he ends up exposing himself too much. Thus he likes to retract and hold himself back.

Jimin coming from a conservative background with many rules and what not revels in the new found freedom Idol life gives him so often he doesn't hold back as much as JK does. But that doesn't mean that who they really are in real life.

So often you'd hear people say Jimin looks more serious in person than he does on camera while JK is said to be more expressive than he usually is on camera.

But here is the thing, concealing his feelings is not JK's nature it's his choice. And this is very important to note. He chooses not to do certain things on camera while Jimin chooses to do certain things on camera.

So when JK is not showing his feelings for Jimin it's not because he can't show those feelings, it's more like he doesn't want to show those feelings.

Thus when people say he wasn't showing his feelings for Jimin because he was shy I raise my brows- Shy my ass. Lol

Was he acting tough then? Hmmmm. He likes to act tough no two ways about that. I've said he has a good poker face between him and Jimin. If you are not careful you might think he doesn't like Jimin. But trust me, that man is whipped on god.

But I don't think that's what he was doing in those early dynamics.

I think he was hesitant in pursuing Jimin openly at the time because he wasn't sure about Jimin's sexual orientation much less whether or not Jimin reciprocated the feelings he had for him.

And you could tell not knowing these about Jimin terrified JK a lot, hence his hesitation.

But later when he was certain of both he became more confident in the way he expressed himself and his feelings for Jimin.

Prior to this you could see him fishing and testing the waters with Jimin, slowly pushing Jimin's boundaries- a gentle touch here, a lingering stare there.

He would often pay attention to the things Jimin would say but especially about his romantic and sexual preferences. Like when Tae said he felt Jimin liked men and when Jimin was asked about why he liked JK and JK seemed like he wanted to know.

Then he went through that phase where he seemed obsessed with Jimin's reaction to when other guys sexualised him and expressed interest in him. He seemed very attentive to these little details in a way that seemed to me as if he was fishing for confirmation that Jimin actually liked men and liked him- in a nonplatonic manner.

I feel Jimin noticed these things too in JK but was mostly fascinated by it. So often he would go out of his way to express his sexuality, exaggerate it and perform it as if to let JK know he was ok with JK liking him in that kind of way. Often, you'd see him egging JK on to touch him where JK seemed hesitant, reassuring JK- I think y'all know the bit I'm talking about. I feel JM wanted JK to feel comfortable expressing his interest in him- he ain't slick.

I've said Jimin's persona is a performance. I can see how to JK that could be very confusing. Hell, half of the fandom still read Jimin wrong to this day. Is he gay, bi, straight, a woman, a man, bigender- it's a lot of questions. Legitimate questions.

And I think for JK, seeing Jimin behave like the rest of BTS with the skinship towards him was equally confusing. So often he would shy away from it. Jk was going through puberty, everything was heightened for him.

It's also important to consider the possibility that, if JK was LGBTQ plus that he was going to hide it and not come out to his bandmates for as long as he worked with them- because it's none of their business first and foremost but also because it would have affected their attitudes towards him.

I mean look at the fear and panic with which they greet Jikook when Jikook breath anywhere near eachother in public spaces- not to call them out or anything but I don't think if they were straight that they were going to treat them same. I mean Taejin is as wild as Jikook but.... sigh.

So then going on to catch feelings for one of such said band mates who gives off queer vibes, he had better be sure about him before coming out to him and confessing to him lest he risked his career and friendship with him.

If Jimin wasn't LGBTQ plus it would have been cruel of him to act the way he does with JK honestly. For instance Joking about marriage knowing full well the fight LGBTG plus couple have to put up to have this basic human right- of course JK would yeet himself out of that conversation. I'm talking about that Jikook Vlive and all the time JK has squeezed his face disgruntledly when Jimin has asked him to have his kids- like why Jimin!

Jimin I feel because he is Bi whatever doesn't take this gay business seriously at all. If you've ever dated a bisexual you'd know the feeling. He is my bias and I love him but God he frustrates me for Jk honestly.

What annoys me most is I know how deep he is into JK. Like I've never seen a man so in love with another man in my entire queer life! Like shut up whippidy whipped ass we saw your face at Manila. You like that man. You like him.

Let JK put up a front and you'll see this tactless homegirl descending into that space we all hate so much and embarrassing himself left right left clinging on to JK seeking validation and reassurance- like can you be serious in your life for once Park Jimin. 😒

Anywho, I went off on a tangent there. Sorry.

But yes, this is another aspect of their dynamic I feel most people get twisted. Jimin enjoys JK's expressions of interest in him- however way he does it. Jk enjoys it too when Jimin shows him he wants him. Remember magic shop? Show me, I'll show you? And that line JK sang to Jimin that made Jimin nervous on Live with VMin? Yea...

They love each other and they love when the other is showing and expressing their love. Hell, isn't that why they are constantly trying to find creative ways to communicate their love? 5/8, love letters punctuated with sorries? Chileee.

Could Jimin's look be a contributing factor to JK liking him? Let me put it this way. People are attracted to people for a plethora of reasons, physical appearance being one of them.

Looks attract people, emotional connection binds them and make them stay. I have said this time and again JK is attracted to all of Jimin-looks, everything. When asked which part of of Jimin he liked most he put all of Jimin as the answer.

With regards to JM's weight, I think the tears he shed on stage during the performance of I Need You says it all. Jimin was killing himself and it was killing JK. Jimin wasn't doing all that out of self love much less for the love of JK.

He was doing all that because he wanted to be an Idol in every sense of the word. He was killing himself for his career. A career JK was once willing to walk away from and JM advised him to stay.

Jk defies the dictates of his career with the piercings and tattoos and gay pubs- the emphasis is mine. Y'all think he is about to be demanding of his life partner to look like what now? Chileee.

And when JK was starving himself and losing weight who was it that brought him down that ledge? Jimin. If it was a positive thing I thing he would have encouraged him.

Jk allegedly called Jimin his Mochi in that infamous graduation night track video. Did you see his reaction to when James Corden called Jimin Mochi? Baby fat cheeked Jimin was cute not ugly. And even if you think he was, JK still found that attractive. Jimin could be looking like my Aunt Becky and Jk would still fuck him.

Have you seen JK freeze frame to take snapshot photos of Jimin? It's almost always pictures of Jimin looking like the wicked witch of the west. He loves him some park Jimin memes. Loves that man to death.

How many times have he said Jimin looks beautiful without makeup? Remember the Vlive Jimin didn't want to be on camera because he didn't have makeup on? What did JK say?

Jk isn't a shallow person you know. He really isn't. He doesn't strike me as the kind at all. Questions like these presupposes that JK is a vain shallow person who only likes people for their looks. Don't get me wrong, it's a valid question, one that I'm happy to discuss but it also exposes the biases against JK and indirectly, Jimin.

Do you feel JK is shallow? I find a lot of people do and it breaks my heart.

Have you heard any of his songs? His GCFs?

He barely idolizes his subject matter's looks and appearances. You gave me the best of you, so I'll give you the best of me. What I found in you is real. That's doesn't sound shallow to me.

They work in a highly competitive and highly vainglorious environment. I think they know more than anything the dangers of vanity- it's fleeting. They put themselves through so much to appease the vanity matrics, to subject people they love through the same.

I've talked about how because JM comes from a demanding home and work environment that acceptance is one key aspect of his love language. He wants a person who loves him for who he is and accepts him without placing expectations on him.

If JK was this shallow JM wouldn't honestly have found him attractive much less love him to begin with. He wouldn't have found fulfillment and nourishment from JK. He loves JK because JK's values and upbringing makes him the perfect person for him to trust himself fully to.

Besides, for JK to be only attracted to JM because he glowed up, he himself must have been a ten from the onset which he wasn't let's be honest- no shade to him but he wasn't exactly packing now was he?

BTS are pretty but they've all undergone hefty transformations throughout the years, magic foreheads and all. So if you wonder if Jimin's glow up contributes to JK liking him, then you'd have to wonder if Jk glowing up also contributed to Jimin finding him attractive- it's a vicious cycle.

As for JK ranking Jimin last... did he ever rank himself first? No. He ranked Jimin last and himself second to last consistently. If he found Jimin unattractive he certainly found himself as equally unattractive only one step above Jimin.

I honestly think he was just teasing Jimin. He loves teasing Jimin because it's how he flirts with him. It's just the masculine energy in him I guess. V does this too when he flirts with Jimin. He teases him about his pinky, his Mochi cheeks and his glow up- Iland anyone?

Why y'all think JK looked away sharp when JM dropped to the floor?? He recognized what V was doing- don't mind me. I'm trolling. Lol. But deadass.

Jimin teases JK too by acting like he is available most times. It's the feminine energy in him. Girls like to tease their crush by amplifying their sex appeal. What better way to amp up your sex appeal than by having other people show interest in you? Jimin is a tease. Bless him.

Besides, when JK ranked Jimin first in looks he ranked himself last. I hope y'all don't think it's because he has low self esteem?

He ranked himself and Jimin last because he wanted to humble himself and by extension Jimin because he sees himself as Jimin's equal and as such recognizes their place as the youngest within the group. As he has explained, as the youngest, he places everyone else above him.

I honestly don't think Jungkook had always been interested in Jimin. But somewhere along the line while he came to terms with his own sexuality he began developing feelings for Jimin. His glow up had nothing to do with it. In my opinion.

I think Jimin caught him off guard? It's that red string serendipity destiny voodoo working its magic that orchestrating their love. In my opinion.

I don't think either of Jikook went searching for this love thingy either as I keep saying. It wasn't planned, it wasn't foreseen, it just happened to both of them but at a different pace.

I hope this helps?

Signed,

GOLDY

#jikook #jikook theories #kookmin analysis #kookmin #kookmintheories #jikook analysis #jikook scenarios #jikooktheories #Ask response #ask goldy #GOLDY #nightswithkookmin

[likesomekindofcheese]

Alrighty, here’s your ship sent via DM

Hello @thedealerofdreamsandpain! Here you go! :)

Alright so...let's start with the description! Hi, I'm Cristiana Claudia (second name) Galli! I'm a short (I'm 1,59m,so that means 5'2 I think) Italian girl, kinda curvy, with medium length brown curly hair, almost black eye covered by thick glasses, light olive skin and my style (if you need that) it's kinda 70s bohemian...but I could really dress like a 80s rockstar...it depends on the day! But yeah, mostly the first type. And... nothing, guess I finished with the "body" description. Now, for the character, I think I'm an ambivert (?). But well, I'm shy when I first meet someone, but then I start doing dry jokes/stupid jokes and I start to open up a bit. I don't think that I'm totally open with someone, even with my best friend. You know, I'm one of that person that could know almost everything about a person, but that person could know just little things about me (like name or age). But yeah, people say that they like me! I'm also the mum friend of my friends. I just...like taking care of the people around me, it makes me feel...happy, warm. My friends come to me for an advice when they have problems, or for hugs. So yeah, I help people when they need, but I don't seek for help. Even if I passed rough, orrible times for some illness (mentally e physical) I preferred stay on my own. Now for the bad sides of my temper, I'm anxious and if someone make me go mad and tried to hurt me I...literally destroy them with words, hurting them with their weaknesses and I'm trying to change this trait. Other things about me if they can help you: -I speak three languages, more or less; -I don't talk really much; -fave fandoms: Beatles, Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody (and Mötley Crüe, but that's another story); - I'm studying informatic, and then I would like to study computer engineering! -I read a lot and I also write a little bit! -I play guitar, a percussion, and a little bit of piano. -I like to draw too! -Last, but not least, I'm bi! And that's it! Sorry if it's too long and full of errors

Hello Christiana!

So let’s see...

Beatles: I think I see you with John!!!

John would love that you are the mum friend. Sometimes he gets sad or frustrated about things going on or drama with Aunt Mimi or something like that. I can assure you that your hugs and love would cure him of any sadness.

He would especially love playing with your hair. He would love to twirl it around his fingers or see it bounce around. Even when you have your struggles with it, he would still think it as beautiful.

Since you are ambiverted, you get the best of both worlds with John. You can have fun with a party and dance the night away together, or just hang around and watch the television and eat snacks.

Plus since you both play guitar, he would love to hear your music. He would encourage you and give you playing tips. He would also love hearing the sound of it. And you would hear all of his song ideas too!

You have a similar dry sense of humor, you both make each other crack up. As he recalls rehearsals and other sessions with Eppy or the band and the ridiculous things some people have said, you make a quip and he laughs hard about it

He trusts you enough that you learn almost everything about him. And he knows everything about you. You stay up late having deep conversations about all sorts of things about each other, even things you rarely or never talk about.

His artistic personality would also be impressed with your engineering studies! At first he would be surprised since that isn’t a field most women go into and his home, Liverpool, can be very traditional. But then he is amazed and respects it.

As for Queen, I ship you with...

 Deaky! That’s TWO Johns!!!

Both of you would be a bit shy at first. Deaky especially. Since he would be taken with you, he might take a little longer to open up. But with your friendly, warm energy he would then befriend and then date you! 

You are more on the short side so he would sometimes flex his height on you. Sometimes that means teasing you by calling you “shortcake” but other times it means giving the best hugs in the world!

Plus he studies engineering so he would love that you study those similar subjects as well! Both of you enjoy nerding over those subjects.

Plus, since you are from Italy, he would think your accent is cute or even hot! They cadence and pattern of even ordering something at a restaurant with your voice makes his heart beat a little harder.

Plus your style of dress would blow his socks off! Although he is more conservative in his own tastes, he loves the look of you in long dresses or colorful shirts. In fact, you take him shopping to find some clothes that fit him well!

He would be ssoooooo sweet with your own personal struggles. In for the long haul! No matter how flawed you think you are, he accepts it and sees the good in you too much to let that scare him away!.

Plus it means you get to be the muse for his songs too! And it makes you smile every time!

Now, for Bohemian Rhapsody I ship you with...

Ben Hardy!!

First of all, he can speak some Italian! You wind up havnig some conversations in he language and his accent make you feel giddy and giggly hearing it.

Though it is a little rusty so you manage to give him some lessons. He sometimes mixes up articles and suject-verb agreement, he eventually gets so much better!!! And when you hug him and give him a big kiss, he turns pink and smiles big.

Although he is obviously familiar with Queen, you get Ben in to Motely Crue. You both spend hours online watching clips and listening to whole albums. You find out he likes the most underrated, gorgeous pieces of theirs. Though he would definitely pull you down for a dance of Girls, Girls Girls.

Since you play percussion, you tease him all the time about having to learn the drums to be Roger. Though he takes your teasing with a peck on the cheek and you tell him you are proud of him none the less.

Plus, it means he gets to go to Italy and you get to show him all the local places, people, and food all the time!

Plus, the looks of you two together, with your olive skin and dark hair and eyes with his pretty boy green eyes and blonde hair would look so cute toether!!!!!

Even holding hands, he likes admiring your skin-seeing the olive against his porcelain, often rubbing his thumbs when you hold hands and kissing your knuckles!

[luckyjak]

essek week: day seven

For @essek-week day seven: AU. In this case, modern AU

TW: Homophobia, tw: implied transphobia, TW: Outing, Brotherly Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, religious conservative family trauma, Mighty Nein as Family, boys crying about feelings, Modern AU. 

most of the trigger warnings are implied not explicit but I feel the need to warn regardless

He’s late.

He shouldn’t have come at this point, but something keeps tugging at him, making him move forward despite the rain of the city and his general tardiness. Perhaps it’s the fact that he bought a gift that makes him keep moving, or maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen Essek in three years, or any number of reasons, but his feet keep moving, and he doesn’t stop.

When he arrives at the location his GPS tells him is the venue, he hesitates even as his hand is on the door.

It’s not a church, Verin thinks, smiling in spite of himself. Mother would have kittens if she knew Essek was getting married not in a church.

She'd have a conniption over the fact that he's marrying a man, too, of course. Not that she was coming to the wedding. No one from Essek’s side of the family was likely to come to his wedding, except for Verin, and it was that thought that gave him the courage to open the door.

At first, he wonders if he’s wandered into the wrong location, if he perhaps misread the invitation he received. But a quick glance tells him that, no, this is the right location. The planetarium looks like a garden exploded in it: there are flowers everywhere, and none of them match. But the chaos actually sort of works, aesthetically, as all of the flowers seem to glow with the night sky overhead.

He’s like, the only drow here, but the place is packed with people dancing and drinking. He tries to see if he can spot his brother anywhere, but before he gets too far there is a blue tiefling in his face.

“Hi!” She says to him, very bubbly. She looks like a princess, wearing a bright pink sparkly dress and a tiara. Across her chest is a sash that says Maid of Honor. “Are you related to Essek?”

He blinks at her, slowly. “I am. Is he, ah, still here…?”

“He is,” she bounces on her tiptoes, still grinning. He realizes suddenly that she is wearing matching pink converse shoes as opposed to heels. Another thing Mother would have a fit over, he thinks.

“Can I, uh, see him, or…”

He feels a large, rough hand on his shoulder, and he turns and finds himself staring at a very tall, pink haired firbolg. “We just want to have a little conversation, first.”

“I’m sure you are a very nice guy!” The tiefling tells him, still bouncing slightly. “But Essek said a lot of his family are dicks, so we just wanna check.”

“Yeah,” comes a new voice, and he turns to find a dark skinned human woman in a blue suit. She is also wearing a sash, although her’s says Caleb’s Best Friend Fuck Gender.  “We just wanna make sure you aren’t here to start shit. Say something homophobic or something fucked up on his wedding day.”

A part of him feels warm on his brother’s behalf. The Essek he used to know never had friends who would stand up for him like this. He blinks slowly, and tries to find a kind smile within himself. “I’m not our mother,” he tells the three friends of Essek, and hopes it’s enough to convey his sincerity.

The firbolg slaps him on the back. “Good enough for me!” He points in the general direction of the center of the room. “He’s dancing with his husband.”

He wanders, for a little bit, but he still doesn’t see his brother. Instead, he decided to amuse himself by counting how many other people are wearing sashes like the tiefling and the woman in the suit. The firbolg is wearing one, too, he realizes, only his is on backwards; it says Made of Tea. There is a halfling in a yellow dress who has a sash that says Mama Bear. A half-orc wearing a ridiculous pirate hat whose sash says Best Captain. An incredibly buff woman with dark hair is dancing with a purple tiefling in a dress, and both of them are wearing sashes, too. The woman’s sash says Made of Honor (Also Guns) while the tiefling’s says Best Dead. The woman dips the tiefling as part of their dance, and the tiefling immediately cracks a joke in someone’s direction, which is how Verin finds his brother.

No wonder he couldn’t find Essek at first. He hardly looks like himself. Gone is the quiet boy who used to hide up in his room, or when forced out into public, hid behind several layers of thick robes. Instead he’s dancing in the center of the room, and the center of everyone’s attention, too. His brother wears a silk white halter top that sparkles in the starlight. Verin thinks it may be slightly translucent, too, but he’s too far to tell at this distance. His top is tucked into high waisted dark trousers with shiny gold buttons on them. Unlike many of the women here, his brother is wearing high heels, and more makeup than most of the women, too. He wears gold eyeliner and thick purple and blue eyeshadow, but it looks nice on him. Makes him look ethereal, which, Verin thinks, might have been the theme.

The man Essek is dancing with is half a head taller than his brother, and human, too, from the looks of him. He looks like a wizard, Verin thinks, which is sort of a ridiculous outfit to wear to a wedding, but it kind of works for him. He wears a long, light blue cape, robe thing? But the top half of it is sparkly, woven with silver thread to look like stardust. The man’s hair is very long and a vivid red, going down past his shoulders, but it’s been braided in an elaborate French braid, with bright flowers woven into his hair.

He’s also wearing makeup, Verin notices and grins. A light blue eyeshadow.

The song they are dancing to ends, and the newly wedded couple kiss, and Verin turns away immediately so he’s not looking at them, like they’ve done something embarrassing. Shame sinks into the bottom of his stomach as he does so, and he feels himself flush with anger and embarrassment. This is Essek’s wedding, he tells himself. There’s nothing wrong with him kissing his husband.

Why is it so hard to unlearn every toxic thing Mother ever taught me?  Verin thinks, ashamed of himself. His hands grip the present he brought tightly, and he turns to try to find the gift table, to put what he brought there and then go home, and of course, that’s when Essek spots him.

“Verin?” his brother calls to him, so he stops and turns to face him. His brother looks so shocked right now, it’s hard to read any other expression on his face; Verin can’t tell if he’s happy to see him, or angry, or both. “You came?”

“You invited me,” Verin says sheepishly, although he knows that’s not a good excuse. They’ve not seen each other in three years. Part of that is on Essek; he left the family in a storm of anger and hurt, but part of it is on Verin, too. He didn’t reach out to him, even after Verin left the family, too.

“I invited the whole Den,” Essek says, gesturing around the room as if to point out the distinct lack of drow here. Most people are still dancing, but a few have stopped to watch his and Essek’s conversation; most of the people with sashes, he notices. “But they didn’t seem to make it.”

There’s so much Verin wants to say, then. He wants to say I’m sorry, he wants to say I was bigger and stronger. I should have protected you from them. He wants to say I’m trying to be a better person now and I should have contacted you sooner and it’s so hard, unlearning everything they taught us, how did you do it? And did you know Father died, the night you left?

But he doesn’t, can’t seem to find a way to make any of those words come out of his throat. The room is too crowded and too hot, so instead, he deflects. “Perhaps their invitations got lost in the mail?”

His comment causes Essek to grin. “All seven hundred and eleven of them, huh?”

“Seven hundred and thirteen,” Verin corrects with a gentle smile, his nerves vanishing with the familiar banter he’s missed from his brother. “Cousin Gwylyss’s wife had twins two years ago.”

“Those poor kids,” Essek muses. “I hope they don’t take after their father.”

“Oh, they absolutely do,” or at least, they did, before Verin left, too.

Essek practically doubles over with laughter, and when he stops laughing he smiles sharply at Verin, fangs poking out of his lips. “Did you know, Great Aunt Beszrima sent me a wedding gift? It’s just money, but it was still a surprise.”

Now it’s Verin’s turn to practically double over. “Did she really?”

“Oh yes. My theory is that the old bat saw the name Thelyss on a wedding invitation and sent money without looking any closer at it.”

Both brothers are laughing now, a shared joke no one else gets, and it’s so nice, he’s missed this so much. This connection, the shared past and the shared trauma. For a moment, they are just two brothers laughing at their extended family, and they can pretend that three years ago, Verin didn’t accidentally out his older brother to their religious, conservative family. That the fight that broke out between Essek and their father hadn’t turned violent. That, when the storm finally broke, both Essek and their father left, and the next time Verin saw their father he was in a casket, and he thought for years the next time he’d see Essek, he’d be in one, too.

His thoughts sober him up quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Essek.

It’s not enough, it won’t ever be enough, but he doesn’t know what else to say. How can you apologize for not knowing any better? He was young and stupid and impulsive, but that’s not an excuse. How do you apologize for ruining someone’s life without realizing it?

But he doesn’t get the chance to say anything further, because Essek is doing something he’s not done in years, and hugging him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He sobs before he can stop himself, and Essek is crying, too, he thinks, because he can feel the wetness on his jacket. He wraps his arms around Essek's back and hugs him tightly, sobbing because he feels too much.

“Enough of that,” Essek says shakily, pulling away. His makeup is smudged and runny, and he is trying, desperately, to stop crying. “It’s my wedding day. I’m not going to cry any more.”

Verin makes no such promises, and wipes his eyes on his jacket sleeve.

There’s a gentle hand on Essek’s shoulder, and the man he was dancing with earlier--his husband, Verin thinks--hands Essek a handkerchief without saying anything, although Verin can tell he’s been watching their exchange like a hawk. “Oh fuck,” Essek says, laughing as he blows his nose into the handkerchief. “Verin, would you like to meet my husband?”

“Of course. That's why I came,” Verin says, holding his hand out, wishing he looked less like a mess. “Verin Thelyss. Essek is my big brother.”

“Caleb Widogast,” the husband says, shaking his hand. The Zemnian accent is a surprise, but then again, Verin doesn’t know what he expected Essek’s husband to sound like. “Essek is my husband.”

Verin holds his head down, shame filling him again slightly. “I’m sorry I missed the ceremony.”

“It’s okay,” Caleb Widogast tells him with a soft smile. “Better late than never. We are glad you are here.”

“We are,” Essek assures him. He grabs Verin’s hand, and squeezes it gently. “I am so glad to see you again.”

Verin cries again, and squeezes Essek’s hand back. “There’s so much I’d like to say,” he says, his voice cracking as he speaks. “But I don’t want to ruin your wedding.”

“You wouldn’t,” Essek assures him, and squeezes his hand back. “You haven’t.”

“I think,” Essek’s husband looks around, and Verin notices suddenly that they are in a closed circle of people--all the people he noticed wearing sashes, the people who must make up the wedding party. They are circling them to give them privacy, he realizes suddenly, and he feels overwhelmed with gratitude towards these strangers who must love his brother so very much. “That perhaps, if you two wished to talk more privately, we could provide a distraction.”

Caleb’s Best Friend Fuck Gender  whistles. “We are very good at distractions.”

Best Dead smiles sharply with his fangs pointing. “Something of our specialty, you might say.”

Mama Bear wiggles her fingers. “Chaos crew.”

“Go on then,” Essek’s-- Caleb, Verin corrects himself, tells them, squeezing Essek’s shoulder. “We’ll find you later.”

Then a firecracker goes off (where did that even come from?) and people are shouting and running about, and Essek drags his brother off to talk, privately, for the first time in three years, and it feels, a little bit, like forgiveness.

#critical role #essek thelyss #verin thelyss #shadowgast #my fic

[justcallmenikki7]

BTS Reaction To: Them Meeting Your Family for the first Time (Holiday!Au)

Summary: Reader is from America and brings her boyfriend home to have them join in on her annual family holiday.

Warnings: fluff, jealous reader (on two of the boys), proposal!!, mentions of politics in Yoongi’s, just a lot of fluff and happiness.

W.C.: 3k

Notes: I am done with 3 out of 5 finals and I am so excited to start break on Thursday. So, get ready for more writing and updates once finals are over!

Jin:

“I’m nervous,” Jin admitted as you were driving down the freeway to your house.

You laughed, “why?”

“Because I am meeting the love of my life’s family for the first time since we started dating two years ago, AND,” he emphasized on the ‘and,’ making a dramatic pause for effects, “the pictures of your dad you had showed me makes me scared of him.”

It was quiet for a moment before you busted out laughing, “you’re scared of my dad? You have never met him!” You continued to laugh, ignoring Jin’s glares.

“Yes, yes I am.” He sounded offended, “he looks very intimidating and I am intimidated easily.”

“Jin, trust me, my family, especially my dad, will love you.” You smiled at him reassuringly.

---

Two hours later, you watched in happiness as your boyfriend and your father were getting along with one another. You knew that Jin was extremely nervous to meet your family, especially your father, but you knew the whole time that they would love him. It made your heart swell with happiness knowing that your future (hopefully) husband would get along with your family. You smiled brightly at Jin as he walked over towards you with a satisfied grin on his handsome face.

“See, I told you that you had nothing to worry about,” you teased, leaning up to peck him on the cheek.

“I know, I just wanted to make a good first impression.” He said with a sigh, a happy look on his face, “plus, I was nervous to ask your father something.” Butterflies filled your stomach at the admission, having an idea on what he was about to say. As Jin got down on one knee, a hopeful look on his face as he pulled out the tiny black box from his hoodie pocket. “Y/N, will you make me the happiest man on this planet by marrying me?”

You could hear your mom start sobbing, causing you to turn around with a ‘really’ look. “I’m sorry,” she a apologized, using your dads shirt to wipe away her tears, “I’ll shut up now.”

“Thank you,” you blandly said, making your mother laugh. Turning back around to a hopeful Jin, tears began making their way to your eyes, “Yes, yes I will.” And at your answer, Jin shot up and brought you into a huge hug, avoiding kissing you in front of your dad.

“I love you, Mrs. Worldwide Beautiful.” He promised, kissing your temple.

“I love you, too, Mr. Worldwide Handsome.”

Yoongi:

Coming from a conservative, back-woods hill billy family, the Fourth of July has always been a huge holiday that your family celebrated. Even though were from a family of conservatives, you developed your own views and opinions on things that did not match your family’s views. Of course, the created controversy for a little bit, especially with your father, your family (thankfully) accepted your own way of thinking and thoughts on things.

So, that is why you are nervous to introduce your boyfriend, Min Yoongi, someone who will say how he feels and is not afraid to make his opinion clear on certain topics, to your family – especially to your dad. But the thing is, the meeting between your boyfriend and dad went smoothly; better than you thought. The person that you should have been worried about was your little cousin, Lucas.

When you got to your house and greeted everyone, you were tackled into a hug by your baby cousin Lucas. As he was explaining his new toy that he bought and how he got a Patrick Mahomes shirt as a birthday present from his parents, he turned silent when he saw a man take his position by your side.

“Y/N, who is this?” He asked in a protective tone, standing straighter with shoulders back.

A grin made its way onto your face. Even as an 11 year-old boy, he still is very protective of you. “Lucas, this is my boyfriend, Min Yoongi.” You glanced over at your boyfriend, biting back a smile at his reaction to your cousin.

“Hi, Lucas. Y/N has always talked about you in South Korea, always excited to tell me about you.” Your boyfriend explained, telling the truth about how you always talked about your baby cousin.

“Hmm,” Lucas replied, trying to not show how happy he was to hear that you missed him as much as he missed his role model, you. “Well, be nice to Y/N, because if you don’t I will find you, and I will make sure that you wake up to…” he trailed off with a teasing smile, joking about what he was saying, besides the being nice part to you.

Yoongi did not look scared at that, actually, he looked in awe at how much Lucas cares about you, and in fact, a smidge jealous. But he could not deny the love that both you and your cousin shared for one another. He knew that you always looked out for Lucas, how you helped raised him too. He also knew how much it tore you apart when you had to move to South Korea for school, but the bond that both you and Lucas have is unbreakable. And Yoongi admires that because of the age difference.

So, Yoongi wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his side, “I promise that I will not hurt Y/N.” Yoongi promised from the bottom of his heart.

Lucas smiled up at him, fixing his hat to make better eye contact with the black haired man, “Good. Want to play catch with me and my cousin Braxton? I have an extra glove!”

Hoseok:

To say that you were not even afraid to have your family meet your boyfriend, Jung Hoseok, was true. Why? Because how could you not be when Jung Hoseok was a ray of sunshine and nobody could ever hate him. On the way to your family’s house, your boyfriend could not sit still from excitement.

He was even more excited to see your family than you were and that is your family that you are talking about. You even felt a little sad to say that, but it is true. But, you could not deny how happy you are to see that your boyfriend – the first boy to ever meet your family – is excited to meet the ones that mean most to you.

So, seeing your boyfriend holding a cold beer in his hand, looking at home and comfortable as he talked with your dad and uncles, standing by the grill as your dad flipped the hamburgers, created a weird feeling in your stomach. Something that made you think that maybe, Hoseok might be your forever. You have never felt this way before, even with your older boyfriends. Hoseok is the first person to meet your family and that says a lot yourself.

“Whatcha thinking?” Your aunt Linda asked you as she took a seat beside you out of nowhere. “you’re thinking if he’s the one, aren’t you?” She asked again, pushing you to answer.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” You answered, a small smile on your face.

“Out of all of the boys you have dated, which have been three, you have never been this in love before. I know it because you never talked with so much passion about them that you have with Hoseok. I have never seen you so happy before, sweetie. I also can see how much he loves you too, by the way he looks at you.” She said, a happy smile on her face.

“How does he look at me?” You asked curiously.

“As if you are the one who made the world. He worships the ground that you walk on as you lead him to the family to introduce him. You both are so in sync with one another, and you both have been here for about two hours. He is the one, sweetie. I know it.”

And as she said those four words, Hoseok turned to look at you, as if he heard those words and smiled at you.

Namjoon:

You huffed in irritation while you watched your cousin Ashley try and flirt with your boyfriend. Okay, you could not blame her because your boyfriend is indeed very attractive. With that, his personality and knowledge makes him even more attractive, so it is hard not to fall or be attracted to Kim Namjoon. What is making you irritated is that she does not care that she is flirting with your boyfriend. She knows that Namjoon is your boyfriend and is still flirting with him very obviously. Your whole life, she has always stolen your chance with someone and always made it her mission to take what is yours. You always have fought back, always stood up to her, but nothing ever works. All of your boyfriends, which have been three, Namjoon being your fourth, she always somehow took them from you. Of course, it was also the guys decision to leave you, but you never understood why she has done that to you. So, when you found Namjoon, you knew that he was the one. That is why you were terrified to introduce him to your family because you knew that Ashley was going to do this.

You could see that Namjoon was slightly uncomfortable by Ashley’s intentions, so seeing him politely deny her, giving her a kind (and uncomfortable) smile before leaving, you could not help but smirk in victory. The look on Ashley’s face at the rejection and the pissed off reaction filled your ego. When Namjoon got to you, you leaned up and kissed him on the lips, showing what is yours, you heard the scoff from Ashley, causing you to smile into the kiss.

“What was the for?” Namjoon chuckled when he pulled away, caressing your check and fixing the Santa hat on your head.

“Just wanted to make a point, plus wanted to show how much I love you.” You shrugged, leaning into his side to watch your mom and aunt take shots of eggnog together.

Catching on, Namjoon leant down to kiss your temple and pull you in closer to his side, “Just know that I love you and no one can change that.”

Jimin:

Why is your boyfriend so perfect?

This has been the questioned that you have been asking yourself all day. Even though you just introduced your boyfriend to your family, today, he has been taken from you by your mom and aunt. Jimin does not seem bothered by this because he wanted to be perfect for your family, something that you always smacked him on the head for because he is, indeed perfect, but you had to remind him to be his self, and not someone that he is not. You did not mind that Jimin was hanging out with your family, you just wanted his affection too.

The reason why you and Jimin work so well with each other is because you both love affection, and being away from one another can be a huge struggle. And you just want Jimin and his hugs.

“Babe!” Jimin called from you from the dining room table, “Come play scrabble with us!” He motioned towards your mom, aunt, and cousins.

Walking over there, you went to pull a chair up next to Jimin since you both were a team, but before you could do so, you were tugged on to your boyfriends lap. Blushing, you ignored the raised eyebrow from your mom.

“Oh!” Jimin gasped in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry. It is just a habit to have Y/N sitting on my lap when we play board games with our friends back in Korea.” He apologized, a huge blush by his actions.

“It’s okay, dear!” Your mother reassured, smirking at how embarrassed you two were, “my husband always liked me sitting on his lap.”

For the rest of the night, both you and Jimin could not look at your mother in the eye.

Taehyung:

You are ridiculous,

You are jealous of a child. You are jealous of your baby cousin Mya because she is getting all of the attention from your boyfriend. Okay, it is a good thing that your family likes Taehyung, well, loves, and that he seems to be very comfortable around your family, something is very important. But Taehyung has not spoken to you for four hours because Mya has had him playing with her. It is no secrete that Taehyung loves children, but come on! You are needy and love being Taehyung’s center of attention.

You have to admit, you see Taehyung all of the time and have his attention, but who could blame you? Being Taehyung’s center of attention is amazing. You are truly spoiled.

“Why the long face, cousin?” Zach, your oldest cousin on your dad’s side asked, scaring you from his unexpected presence. Noticing where your gaze was on, he chuckled. “You and Amanda are so alike, I swear,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip from his beer.

“What do you mean?” You replied curiously, looking up at him.

“You both love attention, and whenever you don’t have it, you both turn pouty,” He ruffled your hair in a teasing manner. “But don’t worry, Taehyung, is that how you pronounce it? Yes, cool. Anyways, he always glances to see where you are and makes sure that you aren’t far away. He hasn’t totally forgotten about you.”

“He does?” Insecurity evident in your voice, something Zach knew would be in your tone. He knows about the past assholes, so seeing you with someone who truly does love you makes you happy.

“Of course, Y/N, I wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true. I know when a guy loves someone, and Taehyung loves you. It is hard to miss from how passionate he talked about you to your father in front of my dad and I, and your uncle John. Taehyung loves you.”

A huge smile made its way onto your face at his words, your heart pounding and butterflies in your stomach. “I love him,” you confessed to Zach.

“Oh, I know. Your Instagram is filled with pictures of you two, more than Amanda’s. Wait, Amanda only has two pictures of us while I have ten! I’ll be back in a little. AMANDA!” Zach yelled for his fiancé.

Jungkook:

Jungkook thought that your dad was the only main concerned that he had to worry about but turns out that he was wrong. The person that he had to worry about was your aunt Sandy. Finding himself sitting in a lawn chair, underneath a tree for shade from the July sun, he was facing more questions than he has in one interview.

“So, tell me about yourself,” your Aunt Sandy asked, “What’s your favorite hobby? Have you gone to school? What’s it like to be a famous person? What is your intention with my niece?”

The desperate look that Jungkook threw you had you cackling. Being questioned by your Aunt Sandy can be scary sometimes, and Jungkook is now facing that.

“I don’t know much about South Korea, but do you guys celebrate something close to the Fourth of July? Have you ever lit a firework before?”

“I love photography, so that is how Y/N and I met. Yes, I have gone to school and still in school. It is very pressuring and is nothing like people think it is, Korea is very pressuring and strict for idols. Y/N and I will be coming up to our one-year anniversary and I plan on having more with her. And we have a lot of public holiday’s and ceremonies. We do have Memorial Day where we celebrate on June 6th for the men and women who died while in military service or in the independence movement, there is a ceremony held for this at the Seoul National Cemetery.”

After Jungkook’s answers, your Aunt Sandy was hooked and wanted to learn more about South Korea and their holiday’s, and their culture. Some of your family followed, also intrigued to know more about Korea, and wanting to learn more. Jungkook loved this, very excited to talk about his home and even about his Hyung’s. You could see the happiness and excitement on his face, even in his voice.

When it turned darker, your little cousins and your uncles went to get the fireworks ready. Jungkook grabbed his chair and a loose blanket for you two, he took them to where everyone was situating their selves to get ready to see the finale of fireworks. Placing his chair to the side, wanting to get a little space from your family, along with wanting to have you to himself, he pulled you onto his lap, helping you get comfortable.

“Your Aunt Sandy made me nervous, but I like her though,” he admitted, face perched up on your shoulder.

“Yeah, she has a specialty in that.” You chuckled, “You seem very comfortable with the family, which makes me happy.”

“I love your family, plus, I know that I want to have a future with you, so of course I am going to make it my mission to get along with your family.”

“You want a future?” You asked shocked, surprising Jungkook.

“Of course, jagi. You may be my first girlfriend and we have only been together for almost one year, but I know that I want you in my life, for as long as possible. I hope you feel the same.”

Not knowing what to say, you sat up, turned around to face your boyfriend, grabbed his face and smashed your lips onto his. Jungkook was shocked at first, but soon kissed you back, pouring his emotions into the kiss. He took this as a yes, and he never felt so happy in his life. The both of you knew that this was as close to an ‘I love you,’ only wanting to wait for that for when the time is right.

The both of you missed the sound of your mom’s camera snapping and awe’s filling the air. What mattered was only you and Jungkook, and they gave you privacy after that, not saying anything to you both, wanting yo

#bts reaction #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts hyung line #bts maknae line #seokjin #jin imagine #jin x reader #yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #suga #hoseok #hoseok imagine #hoseok x reader #namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #jimin #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung x reader #v #j-hope #rm #jeongguk

[vaguely-problematic]

the whole 12 minutes is gold but especially this part:

for too long those of us with opportunity and privilege have failed and our responsibility to look at the truth squarely and name the system of racial oppression that artificially divides Americans and benefits those already in positions of relative power.

It’s perfectly understandable to not want to do this. It’s human. No one wants to lose privileges or position. Especially when fear of that loss is magnified and stoked by political leaders for their own supposed Advantage. I say supposed Advantage because if you deny the human rights and dignity of any people you will ultimately destroy the society and civilization that you claim to protect.

58 years ago John Kennedy said those who make peaceful Revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.

Not only is addressing systemic racial and economic Injustice The right thing to do. It is the safest most conservative most self-protecting most self-serving thing to do.  contents Under Pressure will eventually explode and that’s not a threat that’s a law of nature. So it’s time to ask ourselves as it is always time to ask ourselves. What kind of nation do we want to live in?

that answer requires moral leadership.

Take it upon yourself to be a leader and set an example of the kind of country You want to live in.

that might mean going down to a protest or making a donation or having a tense conversation about race,

but you’re not going to get that from the White House. So we need to step up and provide it ourselves. America is now officially byop:  be your own president.

(Full speech-to-text transcription under cut)

i’m Stephen Colbert, well, we’re back after 10 days off and I never imagined that after 10 days a global pandemic would not be the lead story.

Remember when we were all afraid of our groceries. I miss those days.

No the story that has pushed 100,000 covid deaths below the fold is America’s pre-existing condition- racism.  protests against police targeting black people have broken out in dozens of cities.

So April was global pandemic May is massive Nationwide protests over systemic racism. I assume June is a plague of locusts then in July pleated pants are coming back.

That’s not just US citizens protesting racism in the United States. protesters gathered in London Toronto. Even Berlin, you know, it’s bad when Germany thinks your country is racist that’s like Jamaica telling you to put down the bong.

These protests were sparked last Monday by the extrajudicial execution of a man named George Floyd face down in a Street in Minneapolis Floyd died after a police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes now in civilized countries that’s called Murder.  Minneapolis police officer and cop who so dirty even his badge is crooked Derek Chauvin even adding to the outrage is that it took four days to arrest the officer even though there’s  video of him doing it.

It would be the shortest episode of Law & Order ever in the criminal justice system. The people are represented by two separate but equally important groups the police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders who in this case are the police because come on we all saw the video. What are you waiting for? That’s it. I’m going to the protest. do the "dun dun”.

Even after Chauvin was arrested. He was charged with third-degree murder. That’s a pretty light charge. That’s like Prosecuting Jeffrey Dahmer for a bad case of the munchies. We find the defendant, hangry.

Plus the other three officers involved have not been charged with the crime. So if you’re wondering why people are so upset. It’s because this is so upsetting. Also, it’s not an isolated incident on the very same day that Floyd was killed. There was another viral video of a white woman named Amy Cooper who is confronted by a black bird watcher who asked her to put her dog on a leash in Central Park, and he responded by doing this and I’ve hidden please. Please call the cops. Please call the cops. African American man threatening my life. She knows exactly what she’s doing and why that man should be afraid of the police a brilliant performance. She should win the white lady Oscar.  also known as the Oscar.

now Floyd’s death comes on the heels of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arberyurry and also has Eerie similarities to Eric Garner in 2014. And in that same year, there was the case of Michael Brown in Ferguson Tamir rice and Cleveland all of those Echo Emmett Till and the Scottsboro boys, which happened in the context of Jim Crow, which itself was a soft relaunch of slavery. See really got to go back to the Triangle Trade which ultimately stems from man. Man’s inhumanity to man and are essential Fallen nature. So maybe start with the Garden of Eden actually, you know what in the beginning there was a single point of all matter and energy under tremendous pressure. But you know, there’s always a few bad atoms and the whole thing exploded

now in times like these we need empathetic and moral leadership. Unfortunately. We have Donald Trump. normally during National unrest president step up and address the nation’s pain.

Following the death of Michael Brown President Obama met with activists in the White House President Clinton comfort of the nation with a moving address after the Oklahoma City bombing. Even Richard Nixon in 1970 made a surprise trip, or he spoke to students protesting the Vietnam War who can forget his stirring words. We’ve got to come together and defeat are common. Enemy. The Jews I wrote down on this rushed

Trump can’t even match the compassion of a Nixon because as the Protests raged on Pfizer’s discuss the prospect of an oval office address in an attempt to ease tensions, but the idea was quickly scrapped for lack of policy proposals and the president’s own seeming disinterest in delivering a message of unity. Okay? Mr. President. We’re thinking a short powerful speech from the Resolute desk where you call for racial healing. I’m sorry. What’s that sir? You want to act it out with a box of Aunt Jemima. You know what? Let’s just scrap the whole thing. Today Trump had a call with the nation’s Governors to discuss the ongoing protests and he read straight from the authoritarian Playbook. Why isn’t comforting words. It reminds me of what? Mr. Rogers said about times of tragedy. Look for the dominators. Oh won’t you be? Oh you will be my neighbor you jerk.

That was mr. Rogers dominating someone.

Then Trump said something really scary, you know and you’ll never see this stuff again. So people are upset about systemic racism and a society that over polices and imprisons black people and Trump solution is to do more of that. You know, what they say those who refuse to learn from history are Donald Trump. So Donald Trump is the big tough guy going to dominate the opposition pew pew pew so naturally on Friday as

Range nearby Trump took shelter in the White House bunker. Well if history has taught us anything is that things always work out well for strong men who Retreat to underground bunkers. Mr. President. Come on. This is your moment. You’re always calling to beat up protesters at your rallies. You could shut this whole thing down just pop a couple of hydroxy xand come out of the White House swinging a 5-iron with a Confederate flag tape do it. But instead he tweeted great job last night at the White House by the US Secret Service. Service, they were not only totally professional but a very cool. I was inside watched every move and couldn’t have felt more safe adding a nobody came close to breaching the fence. If they had they would dad dad. Dad. Dad dot-dot-dot have been greeted with the most officious dogs and most ominous weapons I’ve ever seen that’s when people would have been really badly hurt at least many Secret.

Agents just waiting for Action. We put the young ones on the front line sir. They love it. I don’t know why they’re not letting him give that reassuring speech from the Oval Office my fellow Americans. Let me send a clear message to the people protesting police brutality law enforcement is just a bunch of cool guys who cannot wait for things to get crazy. They see you as target practice now a truly enjoy watching you get eaten by vicious. Dogs now, let’s all come together in peace. Come buy guns my Lord come buy guns.

The protest of the White House were specifically in response to this tweet. These thugs are dishonoring the memory of George Floyd and I won’t let that happen. Just spoke to Governor. Tim was and told him the military is with him all the way any difficulty and we will assume control, but when the Looting starts the shooting starts, thank you. Kind of an unnerving way to end a threat. It’s like that scene in Taken. I will look for you. I will find you and I will kill you. Thank you. Stay safe. Everyone top also had some more succinct thoughts tweeting. So terrible where the arrests and long-term jail sentences. We tried to sir, but Susan Collins voted to acquit you.

Now while Trump is in hiding it’s really good to see average citizen stepping up and filling in the void yesterday in Queens police knelt with protesters while in Flint Michigan the sheriff joined the march in Brooklyn protesters protected to Target from looters and Kentucky this group of white women formed a line to protect black protesters from police in Louisville protesters formed a human barrier to protect a cop who got separated from his unit and in Minneapolis.

Group of Mennonites showed up to support the protest Tonight’s Mennonites think America’s too racist! and they live in 1840.

Now I make a lot of jokes about Donald Trump because he is a dull and dark corrupting force that is undermining America’s moral leadership around the world and sewing hatred and fear among his own citizens. So that’s fun. and during this covid crisis the president is totally abdicated his responsibility of leading the people to understand the need to do the right thing for themselves and each other and yet the large majority of Americans have done the right thing anyway,

My Hope Is that the American people will do the same thing now Because ultimately they have to for too long those of us with opportunity and privilege have failed and our responsibility to look at the truth squarely and name the system of racial oppression that artificially divides Americans and benefits those already in positions of relative power. It’s perfectly understandable to not want to do this. It’s human. No one wants to lose privileges or position. Especially when fear of that loss is magnified and stoked by political leaders for their own supposed Advantage. I say supposed Advantage because if you deny the human rights and dignity of any people you will ultimately destroy the society and civilization that you claim to protect.

58 years ago John Kennedy said those who make peaceful Revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. Not only is addressing systemic racial and economic Injustice. The right thing to do. It is the safest most conservative most self-protecting most self-serving thing to do. contents under Pressure will eventually explode and that’s not a threat that’s a law of nature. So it’s time to ask ourselves as it is always time to ask ourselves. What kind of nation do we want to live in that answer requires moral leadership?

Take it upon yourself to be a leader and set an example of the kind of country you want to live in.  that might mean going down to a protest or making a donation or having a tense conversation about race,

but you’re not going to get that from the White House. So we need to step up and provide it ourselves. America is now officially byop:  be your own president.

#the late show #the late show with stephen colbert #stephen colbert #June 1 2020 #june 2020 #2020 #protests #black lives matter #police brutality #police impunity #george floyd #breonna taylor #ahmaud arbery #amy cooper #systemic racism #u.s.a. #living in the u.s.a. #u.s. politics #trump #this dystopian nightmare of a country #dystopian reality #eric garner #michael brown #tamir rice #emmett till

[nofacesyndrome]

This is my secret blog where I can kinda rant. I mean sure I could file it in the thousands of notes on my notepad or even my wors docs and save them in a hidden folder but there's just something about posting it. I mean no one's gonna see it but somehow knowing it's public makes it more of a relief when I'm done.

So this rant in particular is about my gender identity and how I feel about it. At first I thought I was genderfluid since sometimes I liked to present fem and other times masc. The thing is that the more I kept thinking about it the more I realized I didn't want to me seen as Male or Female. I want a binder, I want to dress androgynous, I don't want to be a gender. I just want to be me.

And so I realized I'm probably non-binary. It doesn't cause severe gender dysphoria when someone misgenders me, in fact when someone calls me sir it gives me a little giggle.

Then I started think about my family. I have a relatively big family. My dad has 4 siblings, two sisters and two brothers. All of which have spouses and children. And then there's my grandma too. And obviously my mom. We don't talk to her family a lot. But anyway I realized that even if I came out to them they'd just misgender me anyway and probably ignore. Or not take me seriously.

When I came out as Bisexual I had to repeatedly tell them because my sister and mom kept thinking I was joking until I seriously sat down with my sister. After that she accepted me and we told my dad, again. After which he seemed really happy with the fact that I might not have 'boy' troubles.

My mom accepted it, saying I'm her daughter no matter what. Which sounds good except every time I make a gay joke she goes off on a tangent saying I should keep it to myself and not make those jokes around the family. It feels like she doesn't want me to be proud of who I am.

I still haven't come out the the bigger sides of the family except for two of my cousins. Both of whom love and accept me. My older cousin doesn't know I'm non-binary though. He used to not understand the trans spectrum but has learned to understand and accept them so maybe I will tell him at least.

Now the bigger end of the family, being my aunts, uncles, younger cousins and my grandma, they are still a little conservative. Not conservative enough to disown me but conservative enough to say non-binary doesn't exist and you're either a girl or guy. And yes there are a lot of valid arguments I could use, it wouldn't help. Most of them are too stuck in their ways to pay any attention to what a 19 year old is telling them.

But sometimes, a lot recently, I've been thinking how nice it'd be to have them refer to me as they/them. I think a lot about how nice it'd be if I could make Bisexual jokes with them and laugh about funny instances about people misgendering me. That can never happen though. And it's sad...

That being said even my own mother would be like 'oh now you just want attention and you're trying too hard to be something you're not'. And that plants the fear in my head of yea maybe I am. Maybe I'm not enby I just want to be unique. And that scares me so much. I've been struggling with my identity so much thaf I thought maybe I am Cis and just want another 'quirky' label. I just don't know anymore.

I know a lot of people have it worse. To the point where it's life endangering to come out, but that doesn't make my feelings any less important, right?

[doberlink]

93 fun OC asks because why not ... 

LOOONG post ahead about my shamelessly mary-sue RDR oc Camilla Beaumont (née Lemieux)

Basics:

1. What is their gender?

Camilla is a young woman.

2. What is their sexuality?

She is straight.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

The name Camilla originates from the Latin term for free-born and noble. Originally her father wanted to name her Camille, but her mother decided otherwise. She goes by Millie with her older sister.

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with?

Camilla has two sisters, one a year older than her named Heidi, and another three years younger named Letitia.

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Camilla is close to her mother, Anastasia, but her relationship with her father, Henri, is tense. As both her parents first-generation immigrants, she does not know any other relatives.

6. What would they give their life for?

Her family and those she loves. Other than that, likely no one. Camilla is brave but she is also afraid to die.

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

Originally Camilla was infatuated with Lem Fike, whom she met by working with his Aunt Maggie, but when her father ordered her to return home, she lost contact with him and never saw him again. Following the death of her sister Heidi, she grew close to outlaw Arthur Morgan and the two fell in love. The two met when Arthur saved Camilla from being kidnapped by two men. Eventually, Arthur proposed and Camilla became pregnant, but Arthur died before they could marry or the baby was born. When she returned home her father arranged her to marry Edward Beaumont, the heir to his father, a wealthy bank owner. The two were around the same age and remained married, having a child of their own.

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Raised in a religious, though not very, household, Camilla believes in heaven after death. She does not know what this entails, and so is still afraid to die. She does believe she will see her lost loved ones again.

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

Camilla’s favorite color is soft pink. Her favorite animal is a horse, specifically her Criollo, Nutmeg.

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

Camilla is a talented shooter as well as a good actress. She also has a fairly good singing voice though she does not use it often.

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be?

Camilla loves fashion and always dreamt of owning her own clothing store, however she knows this is not a realistic possibility. Instead, she hopes to leave a mark on the world with her acting.

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

As of the Epilogue (1907), Camilla is 26. During the events of RDR2 she was 19, and 18 in RDO. She was born on May 7, 1880.

13. What do they do for fun?

Camilla enjoys reading books or poetry, and secretly acting them out, though she is too shy to admit this.

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it?

Camilla’s favorite meal is chyne of mutton, which she would always be served on her birthday.

15. What was something their parents taught them?

Camilla’s first language is English, however, she is also fluent in French, from her father, and German, from her mother. Even when speaking English, she has a slight French accent.

16. Are they religious?

Yes, Camilla is Catholic.

17. Where were they born?

Camilla was born in Saint Denis.

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages?

See 15.

19. What is their occupation?

Camilla stays at home to take care of her and Edward’s children. However, she is also a well-known actress and often travels for her work.

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them?

Camilla does not have any titles, but she was temporarily a member of the van der Linde gang.

Personality:

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality?

Camilla takes pride in her kindness and empathy.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality?

She is unhappy with how easily she lets her heart rule her head.

23. Do they get lonely easily?

No, Camilla is content being by herself, but she does not like to be away from her loved ones for too long.

24. Do you know their MBTI type?

INFJ-T, the advocate.

25. What is their biggest flaw?

Camilla is very headstrong and acts on a whim, often getting her into trouble that could easily be avoided if she stopped and considered her choices.

26. Are they aware of their flaws?

Yes, Camilla’s father has made sure to remind her.

27. What is their biggest strength?

Camilla’s resiliency and positive outlook. She knows when things get tough they won’t get better unless she keeps on pushing.

28. Are they aware of their strengths?

No, it is simply her outlook on life.

29. How would they describe their own personality?

Camilla would consider herself much quieter and more soft-spoken than she would like and wishes she weren’t so headstrong and stubborn in her ways. However, she is proud of her ability to empathize with others.

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

It all depends on the situation. However, before her time with Mrs. LeClerk and the van der Linde gang, her instinct would always have been “flight”. Now, it varies.

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this?

Camilla will always put the needs of her loved ones before her, as it is how she was raised as a young woman coming from a more conservative household. However in a life or death situation, Camilla has no control of her instincts and while she will always do her best to protect everyone, she may resort to saving herself.

32. What is their self-esteem like?

Coming from a privileged upbringing, Camilla had a superiority complex when she was younger, but grew out of it as she aged. Now while she does think highly of herself, it is more confidence than vainness.

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

While not exactly unique, her biggest fear is death. She reacts to it on instinct.

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives?

With those closest to her, Camilla trusts them with anything, excepting her father. Besides him, Camilla believes that if she cannot trust them then they are not someone she wants to be close to.

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

Make fun of something she cannot control. For example, during her time with the van der Linde gang, Micah and Bill would make fun of her formal way of speaking, which both annoyed her and made her insecure.

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous.

Camilla’s sense of humor is never at the expense of others, but can still be funny. She often finds herself holding back laughter when she sees someone falling or spilling something, though she would never admit it.

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it?

Camilla is not afraid to show affection to those she cares about, but she does understand the significance of the words “I love you”, and would not say them unless she truly means it. However, when she does mean it, she is not shy to say it.

38. What do others admire most about their personality?

Likely her optimistic outlook on life, and how she never allows herself to be down for long.

39. What does their happily ever after look like?

Somewhere safe and secure with her loved ones, with no fears of whether they will see another day or have enough food to eat. She believes she has found this with Edward and their children.

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual?

Camilla trusts her sisters more than anyone. She views them as her closest confidants and knows she could tell them anything.

Physical Profile:

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh?

Camilla has a soft laugh and covers her mouth when she does, so as not to be too loud. She does snort when trying to hold back her laugh.

42. What is their favorite thing about their physical appearance?

Camilla takes pride in her clothing, much of which is imported from Europe. She likes to consider herself fashionable.

43. What is their least favorite thing about their physical appearance?

Her body. She is short and thin and views herself as looking weak and sickly.

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars?

She has a scar on her right shoulder from when she was shot during the confrontation in Blackwater with Amos Lancing.

45. How would they describe their own appearance?

Camilla would describe herself as average looking, though a bit on the frail side. Nonetheless, she is fond of her long hair. She is neither insecure nor proud of her appearance.

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions?

Camilla is good at hiding her emotions, but if she does so for too long she will reach a breaking point and it will all boil over without her control. 

47.  What’s their pain tolerance like?

Camilla can take most pain, but she will complain about even the tiniest of papercuts.

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos?

Nope! This is over 100 years ago! ^^

49. Do they have any piercings?

Camilla’s ears are pierced. 

50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing?

Influenced by her mother, Camilla is very into fashion and considers herself quite stylish. She enjoys wearing soft colors with intricate details and long skirts. Her favorite accessories are her hats and jewelry. 

51. What is their height? Weight?

Camilla is around 5′3 and weighs around 100 pounds.

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc?

Camilla is smaller than average and quite thin, her least favorite quality of her appearance.

53. What is their hair color? Eye color? Skin tone?

Camilla has light blonde hair, blue eyes, and is pale with a warm-undertone.

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle?

As of 1907, Camilla wears her hair pulled back in a curled bun hairstyle. When she was younger, she would rotate between a long plait, a curled ponytail, and a half-up hairstyle.

55. What is their alcohol tolerance like? What kind of drunk are they? How bad are their hangovers?

Camilla does not drink heavily, besides a glass of wine here and there. However, she did once drink heavily with the van der Linde gang and was a bubbly and excitable drunk. Her hangover the next day was enough for her to swear off heavy drinking.

56. What do they smell like? Why do they smell like this? (Is it the things they’re around or a perfume they wear?)

Camilla smells of her favorite perfume, Otto of Roses. It was the first perfume she ever received, gifted by her mother, and she has worn it since.

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin?

Camilla views sex as an intimate thing, not casual, and would only partake in it out of love, not lust. She has only had two sexual partners, Arthur and Edward. As shy as she is, she gets flustered any time sex is brought up (so imagine her around the gang members!)

58. What is their most noticeable physical attribute?

To others, it would likely be her outfits, as she always puts total effort into them.

59. What does their resting face look like? Do they have RBF?

Camilla does not have RBF! Rather she often looks curious or unsure, as she is always taking in her surroundings. She is quick to smile to strangers and always greets them on the street.

60. Describe the way they sleep.

Camilla sleeps on her side with the blanket pulled up to her chin. She cannot sleep if she is hot, and curls up into a ball if she is too cold.

Environment:

61. Which season is their favorite season?

Summer!

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

While not technically betrayed, Camilla certainly felt so when she discovered that Arthur was working against her father, although unknowingly. When she confronted him and he argued that she should have told him, she felt hurt and like he had gone behind her back (though she later realized this was an unfair judgment).

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile?

Someone going out of their way to make sure she is heard or welcomed to wherever she is, as Camilla often has a hard time joining or starting a conversation.

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily?

Camilla does not get hot easily, but she does quickly get cold. She despises the cold and will avoid it when possible.

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick?

Camilla is relatively healthy, however, she did used to get a severe cold each year when she was a child.

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there?

Camilla lives in Saint Denis, where she grew up. She temporarily lived with Maggie and Lem Fike, as well as at a camp with Cripps. She enjoys the city and weather of Saint Denis, and for the most part, she enjoys the people.

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room?

Camilla is a very tidy person, and with the help of her house-staff, she keeps her home very neat.

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality?

Camilla’s childhood upbringing taught her to be quiet, proper, and a ‘lady’. She followed these teachings well, but of course, her temporary run-in with a life of crime went against this.

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality?

Camilla’s mother taught her empathy and kindness, while her father taught her obedience and to be seen, not heard. Her older sister Heidi taught her to have fun and be rebellious, while her younger sister taught her curiosity.

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets?

Camilla loves animals and had a spaniel dog growing up. She speaks in a baby voice to animals, which she is embarrassed of.

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any?

Camilla is the mother of two daughters, Margaret Beaumont (with Arthur) and Helen Beaumont (with Edward). Before she had children, Camilla loved them and dreamt of being a mother.

72.  Would they rather have stability or comfort?

Stability. Having moved from place to place quite often recently, with much-unwanted change, Camilla would find comfort from within stability.

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors?

Camilla’s ideal place to be is sitting outside on a warm sunny day.

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms?

Camilla loves a warm sunny day with a light breeze, and so she loves living in the South. She enjoys thunderstorms when she is inside reading by a fireplace.

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

She would likely write a short story or poem, though the latter she is not very skilled at.

76. How organized are they?

Raised to be a ‘proper lady’, she is very tidy.

77. What is their most prized possession?

Her horse, Nutmeg.

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend?

Camilla’s former answer would have been Heidi, but since her passing, she would say Letitia.

79. What is their economic situation?

Camilla grew up in a wealthy household and has now married a wealthy husband. She is well-off and secure financially.

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

Morning~ she loves watching the sunrise and seeing the mist on fields. 

Miscellaneous:

81. Are they bothered by the sight of blood?

She does not get queasy or sick from the sight of it but dislikes the bad connotation that comes with it.

82. What is their handwriting like?

Elegant cursive that mirrors her mothers, whose she was always envious of.

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim?

Camilla can swim but she dislikes the feeling of being wet, especially her hair.

84. Which deadly sin do they represent best?

Pride. Camilla can often be too proud to ask for help or admit she is wrong.

85. Do they believe in ghosts?

As a child living in a big house with lots of shadows to cast, yes. Now, no.

86. How do they celebrate holidays? How do they celebrate birthdays?

A large festive dinner with family and family friends.

87. What is something they regret?

Not regaining contact with Lem after she left. He is her biggest ‘what-if’.

88. Do they have an accent?

Yes, she has a slight French accent.

89. What is their D&D alignment?

Not sure what this is!

90. Are they right or left handed?

Right handed.

91. If they were a tweet, what tweet would they be?

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said?

Not really any, she’s pretty quiet! But here’s a photo of her instead.

Whew! That was fun! I don’t expect anyone to read this, but if you did... wow!

#Camilla Beaumont #Camilla Lemieux #RDR2 #RDO #Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead Redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan #Red Dead Online #Red Dead OC #RDR2 OC #Lemuel Fike #Lem Fike #Henri Lemieux #Heidi McCourt

[kreekey]

He Turns Me On, But Doesn’t Touch Me

Chapter 1/?: “I must have been frightened of the fag in me to get so angry.”

Pairing: John Lennon/Paul McCartney

Genre: Angst, Hurt

Words:  2131

Summary:  

“If John were a homosexual, I would’ve thought he would have made a pass at me in 20 years, wouldn’t you?” - Paul McCartney disputing the claims that Lennon had homosexual affairs, 1988

~

Scenes and slices of life in which John desperately tried to hide himself when confronted with these ideas. The ideas that must never be known to his best friend, his life support, his rival, his brother, his partner. Because if John ever let Paul understand the sort of power he had over him, he’d lose everything that ever really mattered. That’s his worst fear, and he goes to terrible lengths attempting to ensure it’s never realized…. But maybe, in the end, John can learn to let it go. Even if that means a life without the person who used to mean everything.

(See the AO3 Post for author’s notes) 

“The truth is that John was really a great guy. Really, a nice fella. But, you get the sort of stress that the Beatles got… if you’re not that stable … It’s tough.”

~

John Lennon was standing in the middle of a room crowded with everyone he knew and then some. It was Paul’s aunt’s house, a pleasant place in the middle of suburban Liverpool (which almost sounds like a misnomer). Paul’s family was there, too. It was McCartney’s twenty-first birthday, after all. It was a strange intermingling of Paul’s polite, traditional family and his mates who were like, well, John. He felt as out of place as a drunkard in a convent, which was almost what he was at the moment. John had a great deal to drink at the party and very little to eat.

He was on his umpteenth ale ever since Paul had left him to fend for himself. It’s better to avoid the inevitable embarrassment of a drunk Lennon, especially when surrounded by conservative family. John felt sick, surrounded by gits who kept trying to make polite conversation. George had gone off somewhere with his bird and Ringo left soon afterward. He thought he saw Paul go into the back garden with the redhead and some other pathetic band and a rocker. John told himself that the fresh air was freezing and would only make him be sick and make a mess in front of everyone. He’d better stay here, staring at the wall alone and drinking the home dry. Cynthia was still around there somewhere, but that didn’t do anything for him anymore.

He spotted Brian off in another room, mingling effortlessly with the gits. John couldn’t help but like him anyway. Brian was the one who reassured the band of their talent and John of his worth. Eppy made things comfortable, even if John knew he was desperate to do something like toss him off. It was almost a love affair, but not quite. 

Their time together in Barcelona was telling - that was the sort of thing that worried him. It was his first experience with a homosexual that John was conscious was homosexual. John would never bother finding out how lonely and overworked Cyn was when he left only weeks after their son was born. Neither did he realize his mates whispering about them when he and Brian left. Paul once joked that John sucked Eppy off to get his name first in the song credits. That’s one of the stories one of John’s mates in the pub told him, anyway. But he’s been told much worse rumours about himself. The type that left John staring at the ceiling late at night. He left his family weeks after marriage to go on a trip with a queer because he was a bastard and he knew it.

John was staring at the house’s pale, flowery wallpaper when Bob Wooler walked up to him with a smug smile on his face. He had helped John’s little band to do something worthwhile, a rare sight so far in their careers. The Cavern made half the memories that pushed the band to keep on going. John offered a nod at the familiar face.

“How are you, Johnny?” Bob offered his hand and John immediately shook it. “I haven’t seen you since before you went on that trip with Brian. How was Spain?” 

“’s good to see you, Bob,” John said.

“Already drunk as a poet, Lennon? Ay, I’d be too, if I had to show my face after going off with a queer.” Bob gestured to Brian standing in a separate crowd, leaning back to get a good look at him. “How was he, John? Did you enjoy it, then?”

John furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t - ” he muttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bob.” He fiddled with the collar on his wrist and let out a scoff disguised as a chuckle.

Now Bob smirked. He tilted his head downwards and raised his eyebrows, trying to meet John’s nervous eyes. “It’s all over the papers now. Go ‘ed, tell me. Did you like it?”   John sputtered and his mouth went dry.

Bob added, “I understand, mate. Brian’s a good-looking fella. Go on, look at him.” John turned to where Bob had pointed, and he was right. Brian was making someone smile, comforting them. He glowing underneath the light, so much so that John stared. That was a memory from Barcelona. Bob suddenly grabbed John’s package and groped it roughly, laughing in his ear, “Does he really get you that fucking randy, John?” 

Quickly, John’s eyes panicked, not wanting to face Bob or Brian or, really, anybody. As his eyes darted around the room, he and Cynthia made accidental eye contact. Bob was pushed off, cruelly chuckling along the way. John’s face grew hotter and he spat, “Don’t touch me, you fuckin’ divvy.” 

As Cyn walked towards them, John turned away. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. Not here. He tried to find another bottle of drink, or someone to talk to, or a bird to fool around with. Mainly a bottle of drink, to be honest. Anything to escape this. Cyn started saying something to John about Julian and getting home. She was always trying to help him. It was obvious John needed it in his life. But John didn’t hear her. He was busy desperately stealing someone’s half-drank pint and washing out everybody around him.

“Come on John, tell me.” Bob stroked the back of John’s back. His warmth radiated on the back of John’s neck. Cyn watched on.

“Fuck off, Bob. I mean it.” 

“Tell me about you and Brian, we all know.”

“I’m not a queer.”

“John, please. Don’t listen to him,” Cynthia urged.

Bob snorted. “Come on, do you need your ‘wife’ to come in your defense, John?”

“Mr. Wooler, no - ”

And that was his wife speaking now, trying to politely bicker with Bob to leave John alone, he’s so drunk, please. Everything slipped out of John’s grasp as Bob was trying to charm his wife away, soothing her and reassuring her with lies and jokes. John could swear she was almost in tears, and John wondered if Bob could tell or if Cyn could tell or if -

Then John looked up from his drink and somehow met eyes with Paul, who had made it inside now. He was watching them from across the room, against the purple petunias of the wallpaper. How long? How much could he hear from there? Could Paul see John’s flushed face? Or white knuckles due to the tight hold on his drink as he was trying to ground himself wherever he could? Could Paul see John’s shaky eyes, trying to forget the memories of Barcelona, at least in front of his mate? John felt he was wearing his shame and Paul was about to kick him out for disgusting everyone around him.

Paul’s expression was unreadable, whether from the beer or the glasses John left at home. But he could tell Paul’s eyes were wide, his lips parted, and his eyebrows were slightly raised. He reminded him of a boy who had caught mommy kissing Santa Claus - or a boy who’d caught a glimpse of Mummy living in sin with Bobby Dykins while Father was away. This was a glimpse of something he wasn’t supposed to see. That he didn’t want to see or even realize. Something that disgusted him.

Paul was staring at John now - really looking at him, reminded of all those Hamburg nights - and he didn’t turn his gaze because John could swear Paul could tell what was happening. After all, Paul could always tell. Paul looked at him just like this after John said he was getting married. This happened after John drunkenly proposed to toss themselves off together in a dark room. Paul looked at John like this when he came back from Barcelona. 

And now Paul was making his way towards him, his stare broken. Paul wasn’t supposed to know this way. Paul was never supposed to know. So John turned around, knocked Bob Wooler to the ground, and jumped on him so that John could murder him and his shame. 

Bob was screaming bloody murder as John grabbed a metal stick from the fireplace to shut him up. His nose turned to mush and his breathing made horrible sounds but John couldn’t hear or feel or even notice it. He couldn’t feel Cyn’s hand on his shoulders or everyone evacuating the party or Bob’s chest seeming to crush under his weight. He didn’t let himself realize Paul screaming at him and trying to throw him off. John ignored the fact that he was doing this in front of his best mate at his birthday party because he was a proper, vile bastard. He’s a fucking bastard who’s ruining everybody’s life because he’s a dirty -

John cut himself off by slamming his fist across Bob’s face. Got to shut him up. Got to stop it all. He couldn’t tell that a bit of blood had stained the flowery wall of the McCartney’s perfect house, or that a glass had smashed. He didn’t realize that his vision was so skewed that he barely recognized that what he was hitting was human. He didn’t listen to Bob crying, or the blonde crying, or even his own head telling himself that I can kill this guy. John kept on hitting, pushing through the gurgled moans of Bob and the fact John read on his face that if I hit him once more, that was going to be it. The heat of his face and his chest and the air burned up any thought that told him to stop. John did what he wanted to do for so long: to hit and stop them from speaking about these things ever fucking again. 

And when it ended, John was barely aware that it was over. 

Cyn was driving him home, scared out of her mind. John lashed out again. John was still the same man. But they had a baby now and she left him for months after he hit her and John cried and apologized and promised to be a good man after every incident. Cynthia would always believe him. Now John was stirring in the back seat, his bobbing weakly, not looking at her or even acknowledging her. He only muttered lowly, “He called me a bloody queer, so I knocked his ribs in.” 

He was only faintly aware of Bob’s state. Something bad had happened to Bob’s ribs and his eye, and John knew that oh God, I did that to him. He remembered that Bob staggered out, blood down his face, and said, “Get Brian Epstein.“ Everyone ushered to him and glared at the drunken attacker, the freak, the queer. John was pulled by some of the men there to Cynthia’s car. And Paul rushed out of the scene, holding hands with the nice redhead. John saw Paul’s figure pushing through the crowd, and for some reason he to find Paul’s eyes for something - sympathy or hate or even a fucking nod - but Paul didn’t look at John. 

And John was pushed into Cynthia’s car so he could get out of everybody’s life and let them forget the awful night. The night that was his fault. He was probably going to lose the record deal now, John thought half-consciously. At least, he should. Brian would drop the band and he’d be locked up like the fuck up he was. Oh, the band - they’d hate John for stringing them this far along only to leave them with such a mess. Paul would forget about him, or want to forget about him. Everything they had, everything they worked for would be destroyed. John would be remembered as the fairy who ruined Paul’s twenty-first and Paul would hate him. John’s chest suddenly ached and his face contorted. Everything that was wrong with him was crashing down on his life because that’s exactly what he deserves. The last time Paul looked him in the eyes would be when Paul realized his best mate was a fucking queer. 

~

“… It’s tough. Now, if you look at John for his stability, you’ve got to look at him.

“You gotta look at the guy whose father left home when he was three. He was brought up by his auntie and his uncle - his auntie was living but the uncle died.

“And then, his mother - who used to live nearby - was visiting one night. She left, she got run over by a drunken policeman and got killed stone dead when he was sixteen.

“So, y’know, on top of all of that it’s remarkable he was as straight as he was, really.”

#mclennon #mclennon fic #the beatles #beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #john lennon fan fic #john x paul #beatles fic #fan fic #fanfic #fan fiction #He Turns Me On #personal #my work #my writing

[zamancollective]

The Constructive Agony of Talking Politics at Shabbat (Or How to Survive a Debate with Your Relatives) 

By Gabriella Kamran  

Illustration by Sophie Levy

I wasn’t yet 20 years old and I had already forgotten what it felt like to join my relatives for Shabbat dinner and eat brisket without a side of political commentary. Was that a new phenomenon? Was I too busy spitting tomatoes into napkins as a child that I didn’t notice the moral axioms being thrown above my head? Regardless, charged conversation after charged conversation gradually emerged from background noise while I chewed to a dynamic that captured my interest and charted the course of my intellectual development. 

It seems accurate to say that I entered the fray around the same time I started buying my own clothes. These were the early teenage years: I was testing the waters of feminism, experimenting with political Facebook posts, and learning that not everything I believe to be true is, in fact, the truth. Every young person has a moment of realization that adults can sometimes be profoundly wrong. Mine took place gradually over a series of weekly dinners, as my male relatives argued and I felt an arsenal of my own opinions weighing in my chest. 

I will say with no qualifiers that it is difficult for a fourteen-year-old girl to wedge herself into a conversation with several adult men. First, there is the issue of a quiet voice, not yet amplified by the support of social affirmation. Then there is the matter of being taken seriously — that is, the unspoken surprise that I was not in the living room talking to my girl cousins about nail polish. 

(The aunts, for their part, either ladled soup in the kitchen or listened at the table, inserting a comment when appropriate. For a long time, I interpreted their disinterest as ignorance or resignation to gender norms, but with maturity one gets better at recognizing weariness. I remember once my jaw dropped when a cousin’s grandmother expressed a political opinion out loud- something about Hillary’s foreign policy. I hated myself for being so shocked that she’d have something to say.) 

I learned quickly that family debate is rocky terrain. The post-meal discussion usually unfolded as follows: 

Man 1: This ObamaCare is going to put doctors out of business, I’m telling you. 

Man 2: Just awful. The liberals are pushing us towards socialism. Aunt: We’re just giving more and more money to the lazy bums. Me: What about the majority of poor people who aren’t lazy and were born into poverty? I don’t think anyone genuinely wants to be on welfare. 

Man 2: Oh, no. We send our kids to the conservative schools and they still get brainwashed by liberals. 

Man 1: Question everything your teachers tell you, Gabs. They have an agenda. An agenda. 

Alternatively, the “elders” card was pulled and the conversation stopped short: 

Me: I don’t think you should call people _____ 

Relative: You can’t speak to me like that. How can you disrespect your family?

The more politically conscious I became, the more these dinners began to wear on my nerves. At school, I was learning so much I could almost feel my mind growing into itself. The classic teenage practice of finding oneself was in full force for me as I wrote school newspaper op-eds in my successive editor positions and defined myself in the lines of my rhetoric. Dinner with relatives sucked this pride out of my chest and pulled the plug on my budding confidence. I oscillated between righteous indignation that prompted me to sit firmly in place when the political debate started during our meal and outright fear that anyone would ask me at any point in the night about something of more import than my week’s activities. Family dinners became a matter of fight or flight.  

I took refuge in journalism and books. They seemed to possess more certainty than my relatives’ armchair sociological analyses. I read Betty Friedan, Ta Nehisi Coates, Ari Shavit… and the fact that I considered these all to be radical texts is indicative of how intimidated I felt in political terms. My progressive ideals were no longer inclinations; I could use words like “neoliberal” and “reactionary” to match my relatives’ rhetorical skill. Vocabulary aside, however, a gulf persisted between me and some of the men in my family.

What was this gulf, exactly? Was it a generational gap? Surely an ideological divide existed between every new crop of cousins, fathers and daughters, uncles and nieces. Common wisdom dictates that naïve youth will always be more progressive and open-minded than their older counterparts. It seemed to me, though, that something more was at play here. These Shabbat dinners meant more than a blasé tidal shift in opinions, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. 

The time came for me to go to college, and I was surrounded for the first time by a collection of politically conscious people who had enough intellectual acuity to rigorously critique the elder generation’s values. 

I met friends who told me their grandparents were “hella liberal” and still smoked weed on the weekends, and I beheld these friends in awe. This must have been the diversity they extolled in admissions brochures, the expansion of horizons — but which one of us was living in a bubble? Then there were the students who seemed to have swallowed their relatives’ platitudes like pills, rolling their eyes when they passed a student protest or snickering at T.A.’s requests to state our preferred gender pronouns. These students made me the most uneasy.  

Mostly, though, college brought me a network of friends who shared my experience. By this time we had all developed standby strategies to deal with opinionated table talk: some blocked out the rhetoric and ate their khoresht in peace, and some, like me, often ventured back into the weekly scuffles like moths to a partisan flame.  

But, of course, it was more than righteous indignation that pulled me back into the tides of argument. The supposed radical leftist hegemony on college campuses gave my relatives plenty of dinner table fodder on the nights when I made the ten-minute journey from my dorm to their dining rooms. They particularly liked to raise an issue with my chosen minor, Gender Studies, which they denounced as man-hating. As they prodded me about my professors in order to attack their liberal agendas, I felt the familiar nagging anxiety: Was the leftist haven I found in college making me tone-deaf, insular under the pretense of high-minded morality? I felt obligated to listen to every dismissal of Hillary Clinton, every racial slur, and every condemnation of Islam. This was my internal protest at their accusations of narrow-mindedness. 

I still wondered what was really new in our political conversations. Topics had changed — Obama and McCain became Hillary and Trump, Al Qaeda became ISIS, gay became LGBTQIA+ — but the emotions I had as a young progressive facing several elder conservatives were constant. What were we all feeling during those semi-heated exchanges? We one-upped each other and attacked arguments at weak points, but what was the seed of all this debate? Perhaps it was a sense of familial betrayal. 

We swear to keep family and business separate but there is no such promise when it comes to politics, although we know they are equally divisive. “The personal is political” is also true in reverse — to disparage someone’s worldview is an affront to their world. Political standpoints are currents that run deeper than the surface waters of opinion. Debate is healthy and insult is not, and the line between them is fine. 

One August night before my freshman year of college, one family member reminded me once again to question everything my professors would tell me.  

“These are a different kind of people. Really liberal. They don’t think like us.” 

I wondered briefly what he meant by “us,” considering our often radically divergent opinions. He had been at the dinner table all these years — could it be that he never truly listened to me? 

My cousin leaned toward me, interrupting my thoughts. 

“Or you could come back from college a flaming liberal, and we’ll still love you.”

 I was struck by the resonance of my cousin’s joke, and I still think about it often. By the very merit of calling one another family, we make an implicit promise to stand by one another and love unconditionally – that is, regardless of ideology. When we sit across the dining room table, embroidered white tablecloth stretching between us, and launch attacks intended not to teach, not to strengthen, but to change, there is a sense of combat that doesn’t belong in a family. These mealtime political debates are not a leisurely pastime but a battle driven by an attempt to win, and to win means to vanquish. Hovering over the platters of chicken and tadig is an intention to change one another, and the promise of loyalty feels contingent upon your next comeback.  

Isn’t that what families do, though? We change each other. Any amateur psychologist will tell you that our personalities begin at home. Parents, and to an extent other relatives, are charged with the responsibility of edifying their children. It takes a village, and a large part of this is the admonitions and proverbs of the villagers. Perhaps my relatives feel this weight of social obligation propelling them forward as they critique my beliefs. They crave my confirmation that they are succeeding in their efforts. Maybe when I push back and hold my own, they feel some kind of failure. 

There’s a Jewish parable in which a sage, faced with a crowd of scholars who disagree with his judgment, asks God to determine who is correct. God declines to comment. The wise men debate and eventually move forward with a decision. From heaven, God laughs with joy: “My sons have defeated me!” 

The goal of true mentorship has never been indoctrination. Young people look to their beloved elders to create some kind of safe space to learn to walk, to stumble, to mess up. The goal is that eventually, the pupil becomes the teacher. A student who recites their teachers’ talking points is a student lost.  

Through the ages, a 7 p.m. roundtable over plates of freshly-cooked dinner has been the family’s classroom. The curriculum is set by the routine inquiries of “What did you learn at school today?” and, “How was work?” Some families study in groups of three, and some are lucky enough to learn alongside dozens. I should hope that men in my family take enough interest in my growth to stretch my mind and challenge my thinking. So, too, should they hope I prove them wrong sometimes. 

#nonfiction & opinion #gabriella kamran #sophie levy

[yeet-me-into-oblivion-please]

Well, Supernatural is actually ending and I don't know what I'll do

[ Brevity is not a strong suit of mine since I've included personal details but there's stuff I feel everyone in the SPN family needs to read]

You might be expecting another post about how Supernatural saved someone's life and how devastated they will be when it ends because they've watched it for so long as well as how the actors have impacted their lives. This is probably one of those but please hear me out.

Supernatural premiered in 2005 and I was in preparatory class (aged 5 years and was before I began 1st grade). I heard of it because my aunt would watch it time to time so I'd also tried to get some peeks myself but I wasn't allowed to because it was "too scary".

Then our local cable began to show seasons 1-5 and that was when everyone in class started watching and quoting it. This was in 6th grade and I was frustrated because I knew about it before most of them yet they acted like it was a new show. I had a fair idea about the story but once I began watching it, I fell in love with it and loved it like a part of my soul.

Yes, Jensen Ackles was my first crush but I still thought (and do think) that both he and Jared are super hot. So I was sucked into this vortex, this Neverland which I never thought I would end.

I joined Tumblr for this show in 2013 because I saw the jokes about there being a Supernatural gif everywhere and wanted to be a part of the fandom/community. This was also the year I actually became interested what other fans felt though I never used this site properly until 2016 I would read the IMDb discussion boards because I hated scurrying through Destiel-infested posts.

(Fun fact:I wasn't using any social media of my own but on my mother's Facebook I liked a Supernatural fan page asking people's opinions on Destiel. This is was around the time season 8 was just finishing or had already finished so I read the comments--- people talked about Dean and Castiel being gay and didn't approve of it as there was this one girl who was conservative and didn't believe in homosexuality while others went on how Dean was always a ladies man which I agreed with. Not that I commented but I thought there was something I missed and I thought Castiel used Dean as a vessel, thus Destiel.)

But I digress. I was in deep by the time season 9 premiered and majority of the people I knew stopped watching the show except for this girl who bullied me throughout preschool who put up this update that Dean had become a demon. I doubt she watches the show now but it was hard seeing her put pictures of "I heart Dean Winchester" and pictures of Jensen when my mom asked me why I don't do the same.

Supernatural, I feel, has become that embarrassing thing you are into in middle school but suddenly drop when you're older, looking back and thinking, "Yeesh, I can't believe I used to watch this show."

I'll be a grown woman at 30 or 40 and probably eventually in my 70s and 80s but I will still look back fondly, the good, the bad and the ugly because I have like many teenagers have undergone many changes (friends, family, emotions, hobbies etc) but Supernatural has always been this constant in my life.

Because let me tell you, I'm seeing these posts saying stuff like how people are glad that it's finally over with its "bullshit" and that's it's dying. That is extremely disrespectful and insensitive to those people who literally live for it, who have invested time and money into it: gif makers, artists, meta writers (I may not agree with you guys but even you count). They don't know what to do once the show ends because it has helped them in ways others will never ever be able to fathom.

I saw the video put up by the guys. I saw and I could tell that Jared, Jensen and Misha had probably cried their guts out before the announcement because their eyes were red and puffy. Jared was controlling himself by talking less as Jensen was clearly on the verge as well but yes they said that they should save the angst for next year.

I love the guys; I love Jared being a goofball and Jensen being equally goofy as well and I'll say this too, I used to enjoy some of Misha's crass jokes (not the highlight ) as well which was why I looked forward to the gag reel every summer (because of J2) because it was cathartic after a traumatic season finale. I love the witty banter and the pranks the cast would do and I will miss it tremendously.

I have some issues with my aunt but everything would be okay when we would fawn over the guys and bingewatch the entire season the summer after it finished airing. We'd quote quotes back and forth and even spiritually killed ourselves watching short clips of "Sammy, close your eyes", "I'm proud of us" etc. Hell, she even promised me that when we go visit my uncle in the States we'd attend a con together.

If, and whenever we do go, it'll be different because the show won't be on air anymore and I know for a fact that I won't feel the anticipation of an episode.

So don't say disrespectful and callous things like "fucking finally". You can dislike the cast/plotline/show but don't ridicule and mock those who invested in the show,some of you are most probably speculating and have barely seen it.

I'm not some dumb, blind fan. I can see some stupid mistakes and don't always eat up what the writers show. For example, everyone must have figured that I dislike Destiel because it's based on groundless assumptions. I thought the Bloodlines was a crap idea that had nothing to do with the main plot and knew it was destined to fail.

As for Wayward Daughters/Sisters or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be called, I was not looking forward to it at all because it was one of those "forced diversity" shows, y'know gender bent stuff.

I felt that they were bastardising everything that Supernatural has and will (always) stand for because some people had a hair up their backsides. Yeah, I loathed Claire and that Kaia mourning thing was bullshit. Thank goodness I was sick that day and couldn't keep my eyes open for that episode.

If we were told that there would be a Men of Letters(with Henry Winchester) or even a Bobby-Rufus spinoff I would be okay with that but for now since the show will finish next year let's the wounds heal first, shall we?

I hope that Jared and Jensen get some offers once the show is done and I will pay good money to see movies, TV shows of them etc but for now I will keep quiet since I hope we get an ending we (and the boys) deserve.

Yes, the writer situation scares me and I think they should call Eric Kripke for a last hurrah. I mean, it is his baby and he should get to have a say in the series finale as well as J2.

Will one of the brothers die and the other will live (I'm worried we'll get a reverse Swan Song)? Will they both die leaving Cas behind and Jack as some sort legacy who trains future hunters? That would be a possibility since the sheriff in 14.16 asked the Winchesters why they don't tell people about monsters. What happens to Baby?

I seriously doubt the ending will be happy(maybe not 100%) but the best thing would be if they go driving with Baby into the sunset...

Dean at the steering wheel with Sam riding shotgun, where they should be ---- where they will always be, home. Dean plays his "mullet rock" as Sam would playfully mock his brother's musical choices. No chick flick moments. Just the Winchesters.

The boys need to lay their weary heads to rest, so they can cry no more. Because they are the legendary Winchesters, the hunters who saved the world countless times unbeknownst to many. I don't think their work will ever be done but there will be peace when they are done and how they will reach that point we'll never know till 2020.

Everyone will hear "Carry on wayward son" for the last time ever in Supernatural over a painful montage of "Dad's gone on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days" and "Saving people, hunting things, the family business". Now who in this fandom wouldn't be wracked with pain?

This is the show we all joked about that made a deal with the devil to never go off air but I did expect this a long time ago. Only thing was that I didn't know how I'd treat the news. I was that person who would go, "pfft, of course Supernatural would get renewed". Then again, this was the show that an ending was imminent and the whole season 4 debacle about Misha and the angel storyline saving the show blah blah blah.

So next year, everyone will flock to see the finale and epic conclusion to the Winchester saga whether they stopped at season 5,6,7 or 10,12. Diss it all you want for the shit show it may have become but wherever you left off, you may still want to know what happens to Sam and Dean Winchester in the end.

Once Supernatural ends, I'll turn 20 next summer and I would like to think of it being poetic that I end my adolescence with a show I have loved when I brave the cold, ruthless world of adulthood. I'm a picky person and can't say what's my favorite xyz is but you know what I'll say about my favorite TV show.

We will have completed 327 episodes which is the highest for a scifi TV show so I do hope the boys get some sort of recognition. It was us crazy bitches and jerks that gave the show the mileage and it was us that gave Jared and Jensen faith that they could carry on so for the remainder of season 14 and for 15,support these guys. Support these annoyingly sexy and ridiculously hilarious dudes for this show. I'm sure Jared and Jensen love the show like it's their kid practically but I wish everyone would just shut up, tinhatters, bronlies, stans, destihellers because we are all fans of the one show so let's ease the time we have left.

But seriously imagine Sam and Dean on a desert highway, the orange and yellow rays of the setting sun make Baby shine in all her splendor which makes Dean swell with pride. He starts the engine with a low rumble and they're off. They might to California to feel the sand beneath their feet or to Disneyland. They're living the "apple pie life" and this is their personal heaven : with each other.

I wouldn't mind this playing in the background if the ending is the inevitable and unspeakable you know what :

It's wishful thinking, since I wish they'd actually play some Zeppelin instead of song titles being used as episode titles but I wish they could use some Queen or Guns n Roses and stuff before 1979 because everything sucked ass afterwards according to Dean.

I want the classic rock resurgence in the show as well but I know they'll end up using the cash elsewhere. I wouldn't mind a body swap episode but if wishes were horses, right?

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #misha collins #jack kline #alexander calvert #j2 #j2m #destiel #sastiel #padackles #sabriel #mishalecki #cockles #deancas #casdean #wincest #spn #spnfamily

[omo-kink-blog]

Being a trans guy with a piss kink

So, this is kind of a result of this week for several reasons and about as personal as I will ever get, more than I ever expected to be on a social media platform.

It took fucking years to be okay with the piss kink that started off as only desperation and wetting, not watersports. I didn’t tell anyone because what’s the first kink people kinkshame? “It’s not like you’re into piss or anything, so it can’t be that weird.” At least three occasions in college I felt that terrible “but I am, but thanks for reminding me this isn’t a safe place for that,” in my friend group. Which was fine, I didn’t rely on their support for that. I knew and quite frankly wanted to be alone in that. I didn’t fantasize about friends or real people, it was mostly fictional characters, which led me to believe I was ace for quite some time.

So, from a young age, I’d had a fascination with standing to pee. I wanted to be able to do that from a very young age. I tried on a handful of occasions a few years before puberty. I was frustrated when I couldn’t do that, no matter what I tried. I kind of gave up after puberty. When I discovered I might be trans, it made sense but I wasn’t in a position to really do anything about it. When I realized I absolutely was trans, I tried some home made things that definitely didn’t work. When I was 21, I think, I invested in an STP device, a cheap ass one that was supposed to be somewhat easy to use. I’d already been binding and male presenting for at least a year, this was what I thought was my final obstacle to being comfortable being a man, if that makes any sense.

Some time before, I realized I was conditioned in a very negative way to not being able to use the men’s room. Thank fuck I was a trans guy and not a trans woman after reading the horror stories of trans women in women’s public restrooms or I don’t think I would be able to get over it.

I remember the whole “go with me” movement that was a thing. It works for women and I, at the time, would have gone with a trans woman into the women’s restroom (I did not pass as a man in any way, I definitely didn’t feel as though I belonged in men’s spaces, though using the women’s restroom gave me hella dyphoria). However, good fucking luck asking men to go to the bathroom with you because you don’t feel safe or comfortable. I’ve felt comfortable asking maybe 2 or 4 men to do that and I have never felt the need bad enough to ask them to accompany me. It was bad enough asking several coworkers if they’d be potentially comfortable enough to “allow me to use the men’s restroom,” followed by a conversation with my conservative male bosses about that topic. Yeah, fuck that. I’ll get to that, I guess.

I wasn’t one to willingly get desperate in public. It was more of a fantasy, so I didn’t appreciate not having access to a restroom, especially when I needed just a fucking moment of peace or simply just to fucking pee, wash my hands, or even blow my fuckin’ nose (mostly an issue at work at my current job).

In college, I had a group of friends who were cis men who were super supportive. One was from high school who wasn’t supportive to begin with but I came to be very close with him in college because he matured. Another was a straight male who was the definition of “ally.” He was the first person to use he/him pronouns in regard to me and the fucking lightbulb went off. I was not genderfluid, I could not be genderfluid. I was a man. There were other things in that span of time that clued me in but that was a big thing. I felt comfortable. I felt RIGHT when he used those pronouns with me. I asked my friend group to continue to do so. Given that there were many other trans people (binary and otherwise) changing their names and pronouns, it wasn’t a big deal at all. People messed up, /I/ messed up. It took quite some time and effort for myself to adjust to using the right pronouns and name. Even today, it takes effort to not immediately turn around to someone saying “ma’am” or “miss.” I haven’t heard my deadname outside of my house in years, so that’s not a big thing.

That same person who used the right pronouns for the first time has also traumatized me a great deal. I don’t think he meant to and I don’t think he knows. It still hurts and affects me more than I would like.

In college, this group of cis men decided to tell me it was okay that I used the men’s locker room to change to go swimming with them. Considering my university didn’t have a gender neutral locker room within probably 0.4 miles, a few buildings over, I didn’t really want to walk half a mile out of my way just to fucking change. Before this, I hyped myself up to use the men’s room, a single stall restroom, in the library, first at 3 in the morning when we decided to pull an all nighter. It was a big step. It may not have seemed like it to anyone else, but I was so conditioned that I felt odd using the men’s room in the library even if it was a single-stall. Often I used that restroom just to avoid the dysphoria of using the women’s room if I didn’t want to use the one gender neutral restroom on campus in the one buildings’ basement.

I trusted them at their word. Surely they knew and would be honest enough with me. If they didn’t feel comfortable enough to do so, they would have said so, right? So I took them at face value. I think it was only one of them with the issue but unfortunately his response masked those around him and now I kind of lump them all into one, as unfortunate as that is. I was alone on one side while the others were together on another side. At some point, I felt the need to ask a question, I guess, and went to the other side. Their response was pure discomfort at having me in the vicinity. My immediate response was understandment, which I fucking hate. It shouldn’t have been discomfort. I shouldn’t have understood and conceded in a way that made it seem like I didn’t belong there. My fucking FRIENDS should not have acted like I was a stranger who didn’t belong. They shouldn’t have told me they were okay with it when they clearly weren’t. I say they. I mean one person. I don’t specifically recall any other reactions because this one reaction was strong enough.

I didn’t dare enter another men’s room or men’s locker room for fucking ages, for a couple years, at least, until after I was on hormones.

So, fast forward to after college. I’m in a job where we take inventory of different places. This means we enter new buildings every day. Often they don’t have gender neutral restrooms. I started this job without being out as trans. My aunt had a major factor in me being brought on. She didn’t know so I had to tell her and then out myself to everyone else, all 60+ people that I work with on varying occasions. It was stressful. Before I even knew all of their names, I was awkwardly trying to out myself as trans.

I left a job where people had finally accepted I was trans. I had a boss who asked whatever came to mind without thinking they were offensive, which was fine with me. I’m used to being the first trans person people encounter, I’m used to the weird (maybe offensive), invasive questions. I answer because they’re mostly asked out of curiosity rather than malicious ignorance. I answer in a way that I hope shows that I’m okay with those types of questions but the next trans person they encounter may not be. I try to educate. My previous boss asked me if I would prefer them to put a lock on the door to the men’s room so I would feel comfortable using the men’s room. I never answered them, but their support was enough, honestly. I had another boss who apologized profusely for misgendering me, but she tried to get the right pronouns. She was one of those who apologized too much. I loved her and her effort, but I did not need the speech each time “It just takes time, it’s hard for me.” I completely get it, I still misgendered myself at the time, I certainly wasn’t going to judge others for doing the same goddamn thing. I didn’t appreciate the few people who didn’t even fucking try, but it’s whatever now.

I missed them when I started this job. I worked (work?) with a lot of men. I work with some women, but it’s a lot of cishet men who are older and white (comes with the area, I guess). They scared me. I did not want to come out to them. I wore buttons, I made jokes, I did pretty much anything to avoid straight-up saying “I’m a trans man, please use my pronouns.” Some caught on, some did not. Some that I thought would have issues caught on quite quickly (so quickly that they were gendering me correctly within a month of me starting hormones, so I definitely didn’t pass). I couldn’t hold it against people for misgendering me considering they met me as my aunt’s “niece.” My aunt’s response was “neice, nephew, doesn’t make any difference to me.” It was the best response I’d gotten from a family member, by far.

I started hormones a few months into this job. I wasn’t supposed to. I wasn’t supposed to start hormones while living at home, for fear of my grandmother finding out. My parent and I had an understanding. I broke that understanding. I was 22 and I did not want to wait anymore. I told them after I got my first shot. They were hurt initially but there wasn’t anything they could do. I was an adult and I had made my decision. Initially, they told me I needed to shave consistently and keep my voice high, but it hasn’t caused an issue so far. My grandmother has only noticed my hairy legs (which can easily be explained away with not shaving, I guess).

There was one team leader I enjoyed working with and I respected at this new job. He apologized for not catching on right away but I was only wearing buttons to out myself. I had/have a hard time telling people who met me as a woman. He still caught on quite quickly. He barely messed up with pronouns after he caught on. He never gave me the whole “it takes time,” thing. Men seemed to have more of an issue with me being a trans guy, so I kind of let my guard down with him being so accepting. I wasn’t used to men being so accepting of trans people. I developed feelings, but at this point I realized I had already realized I was poly and realized I cared more for his happiness than actually wanting to be with him, if that makes sense. I didn’t want to be with him, I wanted him to be happy with his relationship with his girlfriend and their kid. I appreciated his support at work and maybe relied on that a little too much at times (I broke down crying in front of him, something I regret, and talk to him about trans issues maybe a bit too much, because he’s one of the few that might be able to sympathize).

So, at some point we had a travel store that ended up being just me and him. He mentioned at some point, when we were almost there, that he needed to pee, you know, every person into omo’s fantasy. I took the opportunity to mention that he was lucky that he could just use the restroom without issue. We had a pretty nice discussion in which I expressed my desire to use the men’s room without repercussions. I talked to him about how he might personally feel, how those we work with might feel, and we were pretty much on the same page with it. He seemed more aware about trans issues than many other cis men I’d talked to. It was nice to have someone so aware but still so supportive at work. I found myself to be rather appreciative of this and the fact that I really appreciated his work ethic. Surprise, surprise, I ended up catching feelings, something I’ve been dealing with for the past year now. His kid and his girlfriend are fucking adorable and if anything happens to them, I’d hate life even more than I do now.

The more I learn about him, the more I hate it and myself. But that’s a different story. The reason I include him is this week.

I was working in one of his stores, as one does. Break time came around and I wanted to make sure no one else was in the restroom, so I waited a couple minutes. I’d been working with another older cis guy who kept referring to me as she/her, so I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t catch his attention using the men’s room. He’s a nice guy, but I don’t think he’s caught onto the fact I’m a guy. Additionally, I don’t want certain workers to see me use the men’s room. So, I waited a few minutes. Considering I really had to fucking pee, it was a process. I had drank water all night and had tea in the morning.. I have a pretty sizeable bladder, to the extent that it’s not a big deal to wait 8 or 12 hours. I was already self conscious about using a stall vs the urinal because fucking toxic masculinity, despite reading up on male etiquette. Right before I went in, the supervisor (who I know too fucking much about in this respect) and that one man were talking so I thought I could just slip away. 40 seconds later I hear shuffling. Now, I have issues exiting a stall after hearing someone come in. I don’t want people to see me in the men’s room. I’m fucking paranoid and think it’s the guy that has been calling me she/her all week. I exit anyway. Turns out it’s the supervisor. I instantly enter panic mode. I immediately think it’s because I have feelings and a piss kink and watched him drive desperate less than a week ago as well as being jealous over actually being able to piss on the side of a building because of desperation over waiting for the manager to open the building. I made jokes, of course, because that’s how I deal with feelings and dysphoria, because how could a cis guy even begin to comprehend? Thinking about it after that day, I realized that I was more worried about him freaking out on me using the men’s room because “I don’t belong!” because that’s what happened before. I know logically he won’t, but it was the panic attack and the illogical fear that he would turn on me that caused my heart rate to rise and my flight/flight response. It was due to that one time before that caused me to think my friends (or at least supportive coworkers) could just as easily turn on me. I currently trust strangers more than I do people who know me when it comes to this stuff, because thanks to the hormones, I pass better. I get misgendered a lot less. I feel almost like I belong in men’s spaces. Even still, I hesitate every time before I enter a men’s restroom. So many “what if”s pass through my head and ultimately that one exchange passes through my head. “Do I pass enough to keep the next cis guy like him from causing issues?” “If my ‘friends’ have issues with it, surely strangers will?”

It wasn’t arousal at all, as I’d thought, it was PTSD from that incident with my college friends. I was so paranoid that he’d ‘turn’ on me, despite all the evidence that showed otherwise, that I couldn’t think. All I could think is that he was the one that followed me in, if he had issues with it then he should have waited, then he can’t say that I didn’t belong....... A long line of defenses that I shouldn’t need to think of. I shouldn’t have to hesitate before entering a men’s restroom. I shouldn’t think of all the bad things that could happen if I enter a men’s room if I don’t pass well enough. I certainly shouldn’t have to think of all the bad things that can and will happen to trans women who don’t ‘pass enough’ for cis women or cis men to use women’s spaces and who get physically harmed because of it.

Probably a few days later, I decided to pull that STP I bought out again. I had a terrible time with it before. I wasn’t able to use it in the shower without leaking a fuck ton, to the extent that I wouldn’t be able to use it in public. I gave up years ago when I tried. I tried again in the shower and had issues. I tried again just outside the shower and leaked a significant amount, but not as much as I would have thought. I tried again and leaked only a few drops. It was significant progress, more than I ever thought I’d get. It became a possibility, to the point that I wanted to use men’s restrooms to practice instead of using the bathroom at home because unless I had water running, it would be easy to hear the difference and I didn’t want my parent catching on.

So, I waited the other day, more than I should have. I left my job without using the restroom because I didn’t have to go, but my parent picked me up and took me to the hospital where my grandmother was getting surgery that lasted longer than it should have. I had half an hour before I had to leave so I figured I’d wait to use a men’s room on the way so I could practice. Of course, I brought extra underwear just in case, but the coffee shop I stopped at was cleaning the men’s room. Then I went to the wrong meet point, so I ended up having to leave the extra pair of underwear in my car 70 miles away and hoping for the best when I got to the travel store. I took my chances using the STP I have, but I only leaked a few drops, a manageable amount, especially for having a full bladder and a detachable dick. It’d be so much better to practice at home, but God forbid I get any fucking privacy anytime.

I’m doing better than I thought I ever would, but I still haven’t even tried to use a urinal. It’s difficult using a cheap-ass STP that I can’t really pack with, so I have to pull it out of my pocket, position it, and then use, then pack away again. It’s an 8 inch thing that isn’t exactly easy to unpack and pack away. I plan to invest in a better one eventually, but my job hasn’t been scheduling me for a lot of hours, so I don’t want to spend the money just yet. I want to practice in private, usually a stall, before I even attempt to try to use a urinal. It’s a process I’m not comfortable with yet. I’m trying and I’ve made so much more progress than I ever thought I would, but I’m not /there/ yet.

Side note: Another older gentleman came face to face to me coming out of the men’s room at a store, someone I work with. Since then, he seemed to catch on to the whole I’m a guy thing. I aspire to make the cis men at my work that may have issues with trans people to see me (and therefore all trans men) as “real” men. I understand that not all men use urinals or stand to pee, but it’s something I’ve wanted to do since before I realized I was a trans man. It would also make me more comfortable using men’s restrooms.

#Long story-short: I'm still traumatized over an incident that happened years ago with cis men #It hurts more when friends hurt you vs strangers #You expect it from strangers #I'm terrified of this coworker that I have feelings for hurting me #Hella personal #Kind of omo related?

[ikesenhell]

Concrete and Glass

The Measurement of Time: Chapter 7. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: This whole story does not make much sense without the context from To Honor And Protect! Please go back and read that before you proceed with TMOT. Tagging @ikemenprincessnaga at request.

The tunnel stretched on and on. Sasuke wondered about how far they were walking. Practically speaking, they didn’t have enough supplies to go forever onward, given that they’d literally been snatched at a moment’s notice from the kitchen. To conserve their torch they doused the lamp. The dim light of the moon filtering through the water was enough. 

“When do you think this was built?” Uesugi mused, knocking her fist against the glass. Sasuke wondered if he would’ve chanced something that bold. Mercifully, the glass held up. 

“Well, glassworking in this region has always been remarkably advanced. The main glass wall of the palace was constructed approximately two hundred years ago. I’d place this as a contemporary.” 

She cast him an amused glance. “You’re a walking dictionary, huh?”

“I’ve heard that before. Apologies.”

“No, I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. I like it.”

Sasuke didn’t know what to say to that. He nudged his glasses up his nose and tried not to parse that too much. “Can you see the end yet? I wore my spares this morning. Clearly it isn’t working out.”

“That’s fine. It’s too murky to tell anyway.” With a sigh, she reached up and teased out her braid, twist after twist of ice blonde hair swinging free down to her waist. What else could he do but stare? She was beautiful regardless of the context, but something about her easy expression made his chest tighten. “I wonder if Uncle Kenshin knew anything about this place?”

That was right. How had he forgotten that? “Did you know him long?”

“I lived with him for almost five years.” She rapped her fingers on the hilt of her sword. “He granted me his own sword in his will. My father and mother had four children--myself, my elder sister, and my two brothers--and I was always more like Uncle Kenshin than anyone else. I idolized him anyway.” Absently she ran her thumb over the hand guard, eyes staring off. “When my great-aunt died, my father and mother knew he wasn’t going to... he didn’t handle loss well. He’d seen enough of it, what with the invasion and his first wife and all that. So they sent me to live with him when I was four. He was around eighty, and he didn’t have any kids of his own, so he doted on me like crazy.”

“Did he?” Sasuke chuckled. “I haven’t heard any stories of him like that.”

“Oh hell no. Most of them are about him doing things like surprise attacking the others in the Nine to keep them on their guard.” But she grinned and nodded. “Probably true, mind you. But anyway, he adored me and I would have died for him. He started training me in little things like ‘discipline’ and ‘stance’ when I was probably five. My father and him had a bunch of arguments about when I’d be allowed to have a knife. Uncle Kenshin’s idea of an ‘acceptable age’ differed wildly from my father’s.” 

A beat. She lowered her eyes, those pale lashes kissing her cheeks, and softly exhaled. Without thinking, Sasuke brushed back a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. 

“Do you miss him?”

“All the time.” But she sighed and looked up again. “But I move on. I am the inheritor of the Uesugi name, and I’m proud to wear that. No one will take that from me.”

Sasuke didn’t usually smile. It was so foreign that he realized he was doing it immediately and Uesugi’s eyes widened in shock.

“You smile?”

“I--” He flushed. “I’ve considered the possibility that I have some kind of physical or psychological limitations on the range of my expressions--I can, I just--”

“Encyclopedia.” She snickered and checked his chin with the edge of her finger. “Don’t worry. I’m just giving you hell.”

Before he could stop himself, Sasuke teased back, “You make jokes?”

Surprise flickered on her before she leaned back her head and laughed. It echoed off the glass, sang through the hall, sank deep as the ocean into his stomach and settled there. A fan of being locked underground he was not--but seeing her finally undone was worth it in ways he didn’t know how to articulate. 

“Good one, Sasuke.” She fixed him with a rare smile. “We’ll make you one of us yet.”

“Thank you.” And he paused. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you prefer I call you Captain, or Uesugi, or...?”

Her lips pursed ever so slightly. “Since we’re technically off duty, you may call me by my name. Usually you would refer to me as Captain.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never caught your first name.”

“No?” She tittered. “I guess not. Seiren. Seiren Uesugi.”

---

They reached the end of the hall, and there was a massive door before them. Or there was. It was ripped out of place, swinging back and forth on a single, lonely hinge. 

“That’s a great sign,” she muttered, drawing her weapon. “Would you?”

Sasuke lit the torch again and waved it in front of the opening. Nothing greeted them except another pitch black hallway. No more was there a glass skylight. Now they would be utterly alone in it. 

“Wonderful.” Squaring her shoulders, Seiren stepped into the gaping dark. “No way out but forward.”

This section of hallway was less polished than the others. Rough, hastily-constructed concrete framed the walls here. He could see handprints and footprints from days gone by memorialized in the cast. Once upon a time it was well used. The ground was smooth and worn under his foot. 

“This looks like it was a main causeway.”

“Then we were right in our theory.” Seiren tapped a fist against the wall. “It was probably the main way between the Trinity Islands and the City. What happened? Communication and travel would be easier with this. Why did they change it?”

No answers awaited them in the dark. They pressed onward. Eventually they reached a stair step leading upwards--and at the top, a faint light.

“Okay.” She squared her shoulders. “Time to face the music and find out.”

This was their chance. Cautiously she braced her shoulder under the trapdoor before them. Sasuke readied his weapon, just in case. Then--in one fluid motion she shoved it open, and they both drew their swords. 

“Fuck,” she gasped. “What the fuck.”

The scorched room around them was familiar. It was a full five seconds before either of them recovered themselves long enough to clamber from the hiding spot and take a cautious look around. Nothing had changed since their last visit. The shattered sarcophagus lay in fragments around the room. 

“Can--” Her voice staggered. “Can it fit through this passage?”

“I don’t--”

“Sasuke, this is very important. Could that thing, theoretically, fit through this passage?”

He ran the calculation in his mind. “Yes. Probably.”

“Fuck!” The expletive echoed, so she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“So it can reach the City.”

“Apparently. Apparently! And it isn’t in here. And it can’t fit that way--” Seiren motioned up the stairs toward the rest of the island. “So there’s only one way out. How did we miss it?”

“Was it behind that wall?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I hope so. This is not good.”

Sasuke didn’t know what to say to that. She was right. To offer blind assurances was insulting to both her sense of alarm and his understanding of probability. It had attacked them. It had free roam underneath a city full of people. Someone had locked them in. It seemed to possess intelligence, ergo, it wasn’t a stretch to assume they were just prey in a maze and happened to escape. He couldn’t think about it now. The moonlight dipping into the room from the island was high, and they needed rest. 

“Come on,” he said. “We need to at least summon help, if not take a bit of a rest. We’ve been at it for hours. You can’t maintain vigilance if you’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine,’ she snapped. Only a moment later she mellowed. “I know.”

“Let’s go.”

They navigated their way up. The breeze washed cold over his cheeks. At least the rain had stopped. Seiren fiddled with her necklace until it pulsed a faint blue. 

“What’s that?”

“Aria’s grandmother made these. They’re signal flares of a sort. Theirs will flash in the City--probably--and they’ll be given an idea of where I am by sound. It’s a nifty little thing.”

“Oddly specific, too.”

“I think she made it for Mitsuhide Akechi. He was blind after the invasion, I think.”

Fair enough. Sasuke and she picked their way through the rubble of the Town Hall and into the village on the island. Some of the structures stood, though not many anymore. They broke their way into one that had a half decent living room and lit a fire in the grate, spreading their cloaks across the floor for makeshift futons. His legs hurt, his feet were sore, his shoulders were weary--and still he didn’t know how he would sleep.

“Seiren?”

A beat. He wondered if she was asleep before she responded. “Yes?”

Sasuke didn’t even know why he was saying her name. “Nevermind. I think I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Hah.” Her chuckle rumbled through the floorboards. “Is it strange if I say I’m very uneasy right now?”

“No. I think that’s fair.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “If anything happens to the City while I’m gone, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

What could he say? “If anything happens while you are gone, it will be at least better than if we never discovered anything below the City at all. No doubt the others have an alarm going because we’ve been gone.”

“You’re right.” She hummed. “You’re right. They’re capable.”

Finally sleep crept up on him. Sasuke folded his glasses against his chest and shut his heavy eyes, willing it to take control. Just before he slipped into a dreamless sleep, he felt a soft head nest against his shoulder. 

“Seiren?” He mumbled through a fog. 

“I’m cold,” she muttered petulantly.

“Alright.”

#Ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku #Ikesen Descendants #Ikesen Sasuke #Sasuke Sarutobi #Sarutobi Sasuke #my writing #TMOT #The Measurement of Time #Female!Uesugi #Seiren Uesugi #Ikesen Medieval Au #Ikesen Fantasy Au #Uesugi Seiren #Concrete and Glass #Fluff

[palestinianliberator]

Story of our family’s blood curse

OKAY SO I didn’t realize how detailed this was until I actually sat down to try and write about it...but I’ll try to keep things juicy and concise.

It’s important to preface this by saying that in my village, there are three major families, or “clans”. There’s Manasrah, which my family hails from, Saramah, and Awowda. These clans supersede the immediate family units, and are incredibly unified and caring of one another. 

The story starts with my grandma Mohdia and her three brothers, Musa [also known as Moses], Yousef, and Tawfik.

My grandmother spent her whole life in Palestine, very rarely leaving, while her brothers moved around the world to find work - Tawfik and Yousef moving separately to the US, and Musa moving to El Salvador where he started a family and became known as “Moses al-Arabiy” [Moses the Arab].

Yousef had 5 sons and and 4 daughters, one of his sons were Waleed and one of his grandkids was Khaled. Waleed was a good kid, working with his father and helping to support both his family, while Khaled was a gambling alcoholic who would beg friends and family for money. Yousef’s wife [who hails from the Saramah clan] had a daughter from a previous marriage who herself had a son, Mohammad. This daughter and son were not a part of their new family [my family basically], as they were loyal to her biological father of the opposing clan and remained with them. I KNOW THIS IS PROBABLY CONFUSING BUT BEAR WITH ME!

One day in the mid to late 1960s, Khaled went up to Mohammad, who was a wealthy man, and asked for money. Mohammad denied him and apparently chastised his behavior and inability to support himself. Khaled, drunk and furious at the slight, gunned Mohammad down and ran off, going into hiding.

Now my village is INCREDIBLY strict when it comes to dishing out justice, and they take family honor and alliances very seriously - when it came out that Khaled was responsible for the murder of Mohammad, our family offered up his life to make things even, knowing that he was guilty of murder and should face punishment for what he’d done. Not everyone agreed with this, but it was seen as the best way to keep things from escalating. Khaled was then executed, and after a period of mourning for both victims, things went back to normal.

Except that the mother and uncle of the family friend that was murdered weren’t satisfied. Keep in mind, my grandma’s brother/my “uncle” and my family are of the Manasrah clan, while the murdered man and his bereaved family were from the Saramah clan.

The mother, distraught at the loss of her successful and beloved son, went out into the village declaring that God had not allowed true justice to prevail, and that she would cast a blood curse on Yousef [her mother’s new husband], his family, and his entire lineage, and that she would seal it with blood so that nobody will ever forget the crime committed against her, her family, and her clan. Think of how serious and committed someone must be to go out and publicly speak of blood magic in a relatively conservative village like this - she wasn’t joking around. Not long after this, she disappeared completely. 

Things remained somewhat tense, but overall okay.

Several years later, however, one of Yousef’s kids was killed under “unknown circumstances”, his body dumped in the street. The general consensus was that the family of Mohammad, the man killed previously, was responsible, but otherwise nothing solid and things eventually moved on.

In retrospect, that was the “blood” that sealed her curse.

Now switching gears and going back to Moses al-Araby, my grandma’s other brother living in Bolivia. He was involved in leftist revolutionary movements and opposed the US backed government that took over following the coup in 1964. I don’t know too many details about his life, but I hope to learn more as I reach out to family still in Bolivia in the future. Anyways, after the collapse of the organization Moses was involved in, he went into hiding.

Several years later, sometime in the mid to late 60s, Tawfiq [the last of my grandma’s brothers] travelled with his son to Bolivia to meet with Moses, not knowing ANYTHING of his involvement with leftist revolutionary groups, and not being involved in any sort of political movements himself. Tawfiq was falsely identified as Moses, and was assassinated along with his son by a hit squad. Moses used this as an opportunity to flee the country, going into hiding in the Middle East for a period, before he himself was eventually killed by Israeli forces in the late 80s. 

Now back to Yousef, who in the late 70s was living in Idaho with his wife and some Waleed, where they owned a jeans and fashion store. One day, both Yousef and his 25 year old son Waleed were assassinated in a case that, to this day, remains an “unsolved murder”. The funny thing is, we know who did it, and we know where this individual currently lives.

Anyways, it was made well known that the assassination of both Yousef and Waleed was still part of the mother’s payback, and she followed through with her threat to murder her biological mother’s new husband. This entire time, however, she remained missing. She was never seen again after her initial threats of a blood curse. The building where Yousef and his son was assassinated is know known as a “haunted location”, a building in which future tenants have claimed to here voices and shouting, and where a man eventually hung himself. You can read about some of that bit here. So it’s great to know that if I ever want to visit my distant uncle, I can find his spirit in that building. 

The body count at this point is 7, including the original murder and murderer. 

Given this brazen attack on our family, and given that we knew the two men responsible for the murder, our clan decided to strike back. One of the two murderers was killed and his body hidden in a dessert in Las Vegas. you can read about that in the link above^. I don’t know who was responsible exactly, but it’s common knowledge that it was all in connection to the assassination of Yousef and his son.

Man there is so much more that I’m glossing over, but I’m trying to keep this from turning into a novel x_x.

There’s an ENTIRE other story about how this back and forth killing led to a feud so big that the IDF had to storm Deir Dibwan to resolve things, all sparked by two more killings tied to clan relations with this blood curse/feud.

By the end of the initial killing spree, each of my grandmother’s brothers had been murdered, with people at this point blaming the blood curse, and hoping it was the end.

Well...it wasn’t. 

In the years since - two of Yousef’s sons died in car accidents, and a third was gunned down in a random attack. One of his daughters died with her family in a house fire.

One of Moses’ kids was gunned down in Bolivia under unknown circumstances.

Two of Tawfiq’s kids lost ALL of their money in different ways, leaving their families in shambles. One of his daughters committed suicide.

One of Tawfiq’s grandkids, the ~rapper~ Mally Mall [who is my cousin lol] had his house burn down, killing his pet wildcat.

Another of Tawfiq’s kids just went missing one day, and was never found.

One of Tawfiq’s grandkids also went missing, but he was eventually found in his car, which had been set on fire with him inside.

My grandma’s sister, who had been through enough shit with al-Nakba and some stuff that had happened to her due to Israeli forces, ended up losing her eye.

Then you have my immediate family & immediate aunts and uncles - I don’t want to divulge THEIR personal details here, but suffice to say......things are pretty messy. My grandma lost two of her children, and three of my aunts and uncles lost 4 children between them. My aunt had her San Francisco store burned down in an arson attack and lost a child to drowning. I came into this post fully intended to discuss some of the personal details with my family/uncles that more recently reflected manifestations of ~the curse~, but I realize now that I don’t want to share that info publicly...sorry x_x. 

To this day, the curse and this entire ordeal is pretty well-known throughout the village, and two clans have since made amends. There have also been multiple “attempts” to tackle the blood curse, but.....you know, HOW do you know when one has been lifted? Especially one cast out of such malice. And sure, you can just go and blame any negative occurrence on ~a curse~, but given that the body count is well over 20, given the extreme unlikelihood that so many houses in my family have been burned down, given that my uncle’s goddamn spirit is said to still haunt the building where he was assassinated.......you know??

At this point, any negative major event that happens, we joke about as being the result of the curse~ [and those that know me..............well.. (: ]. At this point I’m going to stop typing, because holy hell this is long.....and I should probably proofread it first, but I just want to post it before I lose everything. 

#Blood Curse #Personal