Gender only exists to my grandmother when talking about people / trans rights.
We have two shark vacuums that we named ‘friend’ in Korean and Japanese and refer to as “boys” and our “sons.” The vacuum could have any gender. Grandma doesn’t know. She picks one at random whenever she refers to the vacuums being stuck or missing a spot or making a sound.
Animated characters? She might call them a boy or a girl. Doesn’t matter who it is.
An animal / character / online poster that someone in the family has just used a gender with, she’ll turn around and call them by the wrong gender, within the same conversation.
We have five cats and one dog. One of the cats is male, everyone else is female. She consistently switches the genders of all of the animals. From one telling of a story of the animal to the next telling of the same story, the animal has switched genders. If she says ‘he was doing xyz,’ we honestly have to check to see who she’s talking about, because it could be any of them, not just the boy.
But talk about transgender people, them changing their pronouns or their name, or them wanting equal treatment, and suddenly gender is very strict and she doesn’t understand.
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TIME TRAVELER: E216. DEADLINE 1/2
On the morning of the birthday, another concern arose for Robin: his true hair color had begun to show, which was odd, because it usually took months to grow and Robin could dye it in time, but now, his silver-white hair insisted on coming out more strongly than ever, as if it wanted to settle in permanently.
Not that he disliked it, it was just that no one in Aurora knew his hair wasn't black. He was aware sooner or later he'd have to tell them, and let his natural color grow out, but certainly not now, so a remedy should be put in place.
There, his hair was black again, and it would stay that way for a while longer.
Fortunately, Ann didn't notice anything, she was too busy with birthday preparations and getting Jessi ready for her big day.
One of the many preparations was to call her work to ask for the day off. She didn't want to miss a moment with her daughter.
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A short thing told in Reverend Lovejoy’s POV
(This Takes Place When he was younger, and that Jessica was a Baby Girl)
Today is Sunday, where I usually go to church to do my sermons, but I was busy taking care of my baby girl, Jessica, so The Parson decided to let me take her to church, it was 3 months since she was born and I had to take her to my job
at my office, I was seated on my chair, holding my baby girl in my arms
“Now, my sweet baby girl,” I said to her “I have to go do my sermon while I hold you in my arms, so please be good for daddy, ok?” With that said, Jessica snuggled upon my heart, as I smiled.
After I got ready for my sermon, I carried Jessica in one arm, as she held on to my heart, feeling all warm and soft as I went out to say my sermon.
As I said my sermon, Jessica didn’t cry or anything, she felt all warm and clam as she snuggled upon my heart while I did my sermon, and as everyone was passing the church Collection plate, I just looked at my baby girl, smiling as I held her closer to my heart, I guess she really liked my sermon.
“Hey, Reverend!” Shouted a human man with plain white skin, black hair (which was in a ponytail), and ears on his neck to me while I was not looking at the people who attended the church, he was wearing a dark blue sweater with a unzipped black jacket, a dark blue beanie, a pair of glasses, and long blackish pants, his name was Denzel Crocker and he was usually obsessed his Fairies, like really obsessed. He was busy with the church Collection plate until he realized I had my baby girl with me. “What’s that you got there?”
“Why, that’s my baby.” I replied to him. “And it’s a girl.”
“I see,” he said, a little crazied. “Maybe she can help me catch FAIRES!”
“Hey Now, you don’t want to make her cry.” I said to him
“Ugh! Fine Whatever.” He said in frustration.
“Good.” I said in relief
as church was dismissed, I said goodbye to everyone to attended there, saying that I’ll see them next Sunday, with me holding My Little Jessica in one of my arms, apparently, one Springfieldian man, Gary Chalmers, saw my precious baby daughter and came up to me.
“Hey, nice baby you got there.” He said, looking at my baby girl in curiosity
I chuckled I bit. “Thanks, she’s my precious daughter and I’m trying to do what is best for her and my wife.” I replied to him.
“Say, I have a daughter too.” He told me.
“Really?” I said in wonder.
“Yes I do, her name is Shauna, and she is either 4 or 5 years old.” He told me, “And sometimes, I don’t even know her own age!”
I chuckled a bit. “That’s good for you.” I replied to him. “See you next Sunday.”
as Gary walked away, I looked at my baby girl, smiling in proudness as she stayed to close to my heart.
“Aw, did the nice people really liked seeing you in Church?” I said to her, tickling her stomach a little as she giggled. “Did They, Jessy, Did They?” Then after I went into my office to put up my robe, I held Jessica even more closer to my heart, as I opened the door of my office and walked away while holding her in both of my arms. “Come on, Baby, Let’s go home, Your Mommy is waiting for us.” I said to her as we headed home to see my wife.
The End!
NOTE: this is not a deleted scene from my fanfic, it’s just a quickie
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jess/wyatt: I understand. It's ok.
“I understand.” He lowers his gun, bowing his head slightly. “It’s okay.”
It takes her just a few heartbeats to realize his meaning, heartbeats that stretch out between them. He thinks she’s going to kill him (and she should, shouldn’t she? They’re on opposite sides of a war, and if she doesn’t take the shot now, someone else will, or he’ll put someone on her side in the ground), and he’s not even going to fight her.
Tears prick her eyes, chest tightening. Rittenhouse may be her family, but she loves this man, and she cannot-she cannot-
She’s lowering the gun before she even realizes it, closing the distance between them. He looks up, a question in his eyes that she doesn’t give him a chance to ask, and she presses her lips to his.
He should hesitate, should flinch-for crying out loud, he should push her away-but he falls into her easily, a broken noise slipping from his lips as he returns the kiss. And for a moment, there is nothing else: No Rittenhouse, no fear, no wars. There is only her husband, and the way they kiss each other as if they might never get another chance. His fingers are in her hair, she’s clinging to his shirt for dear life, and she can’t be sure if the salt she tastes is from her tears or his.
The sound of footsteps drawing near shatters their hastily-constructed bubble, and he releases her, looking around, fingers once again resting against his gun. Reality is flooding in, and she hates it, hates it so desperately she could scream.
“Join us,” she says, and her voice shakes, but she doesn’t care. This is no recruitment pitch; it’s a plea to the man she loves to please, please not force them apart.
He swallows. Meets her eyes, pain shining in his. “I can’t.” And of course he can’t; she knows that. His loyalty, his unwavering dedication to what’s right, no matter the cost, is only one of the many things she loves about him. “But you could come with us.” And oh, that same desperation drips from his words. “It’s not too late. You can do the right thing-”
But it is too late, and she knows it. She’s chosen her side, just as he’s chosen his. If she came back now, it would be in handcuffs; what sort of life is that, for her or her child? Besides, she owes Rittenhouse more than she can say. They saved her brother. They gave her purpose. And all they want to do is make the world a better place (don’t they?). That’s what Wyatt and his hopeless band of rebels are fighting, and Jessica could never be a part of that.
“Wyatt.”
One word is all it takes. His face falls, but he looks no more surprised than she feels. This is far from fair, but it’s how things are, and they can be no other way.
“Okay.” He squares his shoulders. Sets his jaw. “Okay.”
The footsteps draw closer still, and with them, voices: Lucy, Flynn, and Jiya. Any one of them would shoot her without hesitation. And if she tries to shoot first, Wyatt will protect them. He’ll never forgive himself, but it will be instinct: the soldier protecting his teammates.
So she nods, turns, and runs, vanishing into the night. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she grits her teeth, steeling herself. All she wants to do is run back to him, but that’s not an option. There is only forward.
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