#is this how a person would find out their husband is giving his deadbeat mom money idek but let's go with it! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Eleven: The One With the Man on the Roof

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3336

All of her life as a mother, Lily has placed Hunter above herself no matter what. She had a long shift at the hospital but Hunter had the flu? She'd get someone to cover. She had plans to go for dinner with Gen, but Hunter had a project due the next day? She and Gen would eat in and help him. Nothing ever, ever, came between Lily's son and her. He was the center of her universe, and she would drop everything in an instant and come to his rescue. That's what moms did right? Make sure their son is safe and ensure the best in the world for him? That's what Lily did at least. She would go to the ends of the Earth and back for Hunter if she had to. No questions asked.

So whenever he called, especially when he was at Scott's, Lily's anxiety shot through the roof. Not to mention, of all things to say, he asked her to come and pick him up. Now, of course, she would not hesitate to go and get him. It was a no-brainer. The only issue was the fact Lily was half an hour away if there was no traffic, meaning whatever was going on at Scott's would have to continue for a solid thirty minutes minimum.

"What's going on baby why do you need me to come to get you?" Lily asked, green eyes darting over her shoulder to look at the group that was still seemingly having a great time. But she caught Bucky's eye, and they stood there for what felt like an eternity. His diamond blue eyes seemed worried, his eyebrows knitted in concern at the scared look on Lily's face as she spoke to her son on the phone.

"The babysitters asleep on the couch and a man keeps banging on the door asking for Dad," Hunter answered, his voice shaky as he whispered, "I have Leila in bed with me but Mom I'm so scared please come get us."

Her stomach did a flip. It took everything inside of her not to drop the phone and sprint to the car, not wasting any time telling anybody what was happening. Adrenaline pumped through Lily's veins as she covered her mouth. Tears welled up in the tear ducts of the blonde's eyes and she made quick work blinking them away. Her throat went dry and all of the salivae in her mouth seemed to disappear. Her son was in danger. And Scott wasn't home. Of course, he wasn't...Lily wasn't sure what else she expected from him.

"Call 911 right now. I'm on my way. Stay where you are with Leila. Do not get off the phone with police," Lily rambled, stalking back over to the group and grabbing the purse she had brought along with her, "I love you Hunt I'll see you soon."

And with that, the line went dead as her son followed his mother’s instructions. The abrupt actions of Lily had caught the Avenger’s attention as they watched her scurry around to find all of her belongings, muttering curse words and not so meek names towards her ex-husband seemingly. Lily was a kindhearted person, she wouldn't even hurt a fly. Yet the moment, nay, the second, it had been brought to her attention that her son was in danger on her ex's watch because he had decided to go to a party? That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. This would become messy if she didn't lose her temper and kill Scott herself.

"Woah Woah Lil what're you doing?" Rose questioned as she placed a gentle hand on her sister's arm. Immediately, Lily shrugged it off as her head popped up to look at her younger sister with tears rolling down her cheeks. A hush fell over the crowd like a heavily weighted blanket as the lights around the roof lit up the sadness and desperation on Lily's face.

"There's a man at Scott's pounding on the door. That motherfucker went out and left the kids home with a deadbeat babysitter asleep on a couch..." Lily trailed off as the words escaped her lips. Saying it out loud was completely different than hearing her son say it on the phone. It was really happening. Hunter was in danger and his own father wasn't even home.

A part of Lily blamed herself for the events that were unfolding. If she had just listened to Hunter when he asked for her to take full custody over him. To stop sending him to his dad’s where Scott was hardly home. If she had just listened to her heart instead of her head, Hunter would be safe. He wouldn't be in his current predicament. He'd be safe at home, probably asleep in bed with Lily or Joey in his room. She'd be able to keep tabs on him. Make sure he was secure. Healthy. Safe. Out of harm’s way. Whatever you wanted to say. But no, she listened to the doctor inside of her head about the development of children and how a father/son relationship was important. But mostly, she blamed her deadbeat ex that put his children in that situation, to begin with. Not even just Hunter, but Leila. A three-year-old girl who had no business being left alone with a babysitter and her brother. She was a baby, and Scott put his own entertainment ahead of his children.

"That son of a bitch!" Gen exclaimed while jumping to her feet and handing Rose, the only 100% sober one of the trio, the keys to the car, "Thank you for having us but I have a man to murder." The brunette snapped while making a b-line towards the door down from the roof, Rose and Lily following in her tracks.

Rose's hands rested on her older sister's shoulders, rubbing soothing circles. It was something that the two have done for years. Whenever Lily got worked up and her anxiety reached a peak, Rose's soft hands would grip onto her shoulders and run patterns and shapes along the skin. It reminded Lily that she would be okay, that whatever situation that had caused her anxiety to skyrocket, would be over soon and everything would be okay. A reminder that no matter the circumstances, Rose would always be in Lily's corner, rooting for her and cheering her on. And hopefully, this small action would at least help the rapid heartbeat that pounded away in Lily's chest find a steady rhythm. Of course, then the all mighty steve rogers piped up.

"Why don't we give you a ride on the Quinjet? It'll get you there faster." he offered, causing a small tear to roll down Lily's rouged cheeks. Rose, Gen, and her came to a halt and turned back to the group that looked at the mother with worry in her eyes. Before Lily could respond, the Captain spoke once again, "Or at least let one of us come with you...just in case." he finished, nudging his elbow into Bucky's side.

Even when an event like this is going down, steve rogers stays being a little shit.

"Yeah, that may actually be good. We don't know if we'll get there before the police, or if Scott is home," Rose answered, glancing down at her sister, "You know how he is when he drinks, Lil. You can't take him...and much to her dismay, neither can Gen."

Lily's puffy eyes looked up at her best friend who begrudgingly agreed with Rose's statement, prompting the Winter Soldier to jog forward and follow the girls out to the car. Lily took a seat in the back row of the car, holding her arms tightly around her chest as she glanced at her phone, checking the time. Knowing that at any moment, she could get a call telling her the worst. Or worse, getting a call from Scott. Just the idea of his face made anger boil deep within Lily, which resulted in her bundling her hands into fists so tight that the knuckles turned a sickly shade of green. How could he be so irresponsible? They had been divorced for four years. Lily stood up for him. vouched for him to her parents. Convinced her son it's good to visit. To see his dad and spend time with him. But now? God...Lily wished he would just fall off the face of the earth and she would never have to see him again.

-----

Arriving in Brooklyn a solid half an hour later, Lily spotted flashing police lights dancing across brick walls of the apartment complex. The moment that Rose had stopped the car, Lily ran out faster than the flash. She spotted Hunter sitting in the back of an ambulance with Leila and the blonde basically tackled the two children in a tight hug. She held them close, whispering prayers to the good Lord above. Tears streaked her face, causing valleys to open up along her makeup-covered cheek. She didn't want to let go, she wanted to hold her biological child, and one that wasn't even remotely related to her, and keep them out of harm’s way.

"Ma'am is this your apartment building?" a deep voice of a police officer boomed, causing Lily to release the two kids to turn around and see the tall man behind her. His shoulders were broad and his neck seemed to be the same size as Lily's head. Just looking at the stance he held made Lily tense up, her mouth running as dry as the Sahara desert. But it was Hunter’s small hand gripping onto her's, that sent a rush of newfound confidence through her body.

"No, this is my ex-husband’s apartment. I'm this boy’s mother," Lily stated, fumbling through her purse and gripping her wallet. She tugged out her driver’s license for ID purposes, leaning down to kiss the top of Hunter’s head, before returning her worried eyes back to the officer in front of her, "Did you get the person?"

By the tense look on the officer’s face, Lily guessed the answer would be a no. Tears welled up in her green eyes, and Lily dropped down onto the ambulance between the two kids. The mother bear instincts that welled up inside of Lily's stomach were yelling at her to go and find that son of a bitch who scared her little boy. Smack him all the way to next week and make him feel the pain he had caused her and her son. But the rational part of Lily reminded her she would only create more problems if she did that. She would be the one losing custody of her son because they would probably deem her dangerous and arrest her for...you know, assault. For now, she would sit with the two shaken children, and wait for this to blow over and for the police to find the sorry son of a bitch who dared scare Lily Osborne's son. And then take the father of her child to court and receive full custody of Hunter. Because this...this was unacceptable.

But then a small voice perked up. A meek, scared voice of a little girl. shaky. And it came from Lily's left side. Leila. The little girl had spoken, "The roof." This prompted both Lily and the officer's head to shoot to the side, and both spotted a shadowy figure glancing over the edge. Lily gasped and held both children closer to her chest.

The officer called the others to go to the roof. All pulling their guns from their holsters in preparation, just in case the man was as violent and aggressive as the two children had described. As Lily watched, her hands covering her son and Leila's eyes as police stormed in through the front doors. But she spotted someone, what she had believed to be a police officer, climbing up the fire escape. But then the streetlights reflected a silver arm, sending a glare into Lily's eyes. Bucky. He ran up the fire escape with such anger that Lily could sense the aura all the way from the ambulance at the bottom of the apartment building. Whoever decided to attempt a break-in or try some sort of intimidation at Scott's apartment, most likely, had no intention of ending up face to face with the winter soldier.

"Is that Mr. Barnes on the roof?" Hunter asked, surprising Lily. Glancing down, she saw that she had let her hands drop in shock, resulting in both kids becoming witnesses to the scene. Scoffing, Lily covered their eyes once more, ensuring that whatever violence or trauma that would take place would be hidden by her pale and cold hands.

Lily, however, would become witness to the entire scene unfolding. Watching from afar, she spotted Bucky's metal arm gripping the figure’s neck and holding him above his head. A gasp escaped from Lily's plush lips as she squeezed her own eyes shut. She had heard the stories of the Winter Soldier. The assassinations that HYDRA had forced the man to commit. They had made his brain into putty, moulding it to their will so that they could inflict pain and suffering on whoever they deemed deserved it. But Lily also knew that he had been saved. That the chemicals in his mind had been removed by a brilliant scientist whose name became blank in Lily's mind. But seeing him choking the person on the roof, Lily feared he was not better. That he still had those awful things in his head. That he was dangerous. Especially when her child and her son's half-sister clung to her. As well as her best friend and sister watching the scene from the car.

But when Lily forced her eyes open again, she saw Bucky stand to the side of the roof while the police officers handcuffed whoever it was that had committed this crime. A little breath of relief danced past Lily's lips as she watched Bucky retreat down the fire escape, landing on the solid grown with ease. His thick legs carried that gorgeous frame of his towards Lily, and her shoulders tensed out of habit. But the way his facial expressions changed made her realize...he thought she was scared of him now. That whatever he had done on the roof created a new picture of him in her eyes. Sure it did at first, but he corrected it when he stood to the side afterwards.

"They've got him..." his gruff voice stated, steel blue eyes avoiding any contact with the deep greens of Lily's. He became timid, as though any small teasing comment would destroy any shred of confidence in his body. Lily had no idea the effect she had on him. How what she thought of Bucky was a make or break for him. She herself was so reserved. Distant from people. That they were almost two halves of the same whole. But her view of him...he wanted her to see nothing but goodness in him. And a little bit inside of him continued to scream that she only saw the monster that he was.

"Thank you Bucky," Lily smiled, something small and delicate that had the man become weak in the knees. But then she continued, and a small bit of his heart grew even larger and more fond of the blonde mother, "Upstate is a while away...would you like to um...stay in my spare room? Just for the night so Rose doesn't have to do that drive again."

Whether it was the beer that was singing a sweet song in Lily's mind, or the killer adrenaline rush that she was experiencing, her confidence was through the roof. Her fears seemed to disappear in an instant, creating a new side of Lily. Her son was safe and the asshole that scared him was in cuffs. Alcohol plagued a small place in her mind, and Bucky had just shown a new side to him as well. A protective side. One that he seemed to have gained for the Osborne family at the beginning of this story. Whether it was Lily's infectious smile or the way Hunter looked at him like he was the entire world. He had vowed to be there for them. No matter what it was.

"Oh...I mean if Rose doesn't want to make the drive..." the man stated, his voice cracking halfway through as he glanced over at the other two girls that rushed forward to join in on the conversation, "But isn't she staying with you?"

"Nope. Tonight I'm staying with Gen. Girls night or something. And I don't wanna drive. Hate it. Terrible. You have to stay with Lily it's final." Rose rushed, pushing forward and yanking Hunter into her arms, holding the shaking boy as she kissed the top of his head.

Before Bucky could reply, a car came to a screeching halt at the base of the apartment building’s driveway. A yelling man exploded from the car, along with a crying woman. Scott and Mary. Whatever adrenaline that Lily had leftover, shot through her as she jumped to her feet, standing in front of Hunter and Leila between Scott and them. The taller man was huffing and puffing as his hazel eyes scanned everyone around them.

"Lily, move," he ordered, face beet red as he stared down at the woman he cheated on. The anger inside of her eyes startled him at first. The mother’s instincts she wished to take out on the criminal deflecting on to her son's father. A little body pushed past both as Leila ran into her mother’s arms, and neither Lily nor Scott broke eye contact with each other. All of the pain he had caused her seemed to grow to a head, and everything inside of her kept Lily from reaching up and punching him square in the nose.

"You are a father. Scott. The judge granted you partial custody because I asked her to. Because I believed you would finally step up and care and love Hunter. But instead, you leave a deadbeat babysitter home with two children." Lily began, her voice steady and even as her bottom lip quivered, "A son needs his father. And you have been nothing short of an acquaintance to him. So congratulations. You just fucked yourself over."

Before Scott could even retort the smack-down that Lily just dished out to him, Mary piped up. Her voice shaking and broken, "Scott you told me your mother was watching them. Lily I met him at our friends after work, I hadn't come home." she sobbed, gripping her young daughter tight as she walked forward, an apologetic and terrified look on her face.

Lily nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around Mary, holding her close before letting her go talk to the police with Leila. This left Scott staring down at Lily, who had Gen, Rose, Hunter, and the Winter Soldier standing behind her. it took Scott a moment to process the fact a superhero was now standing with his ex-wife and son. And a pang of jealousy shot through him, or maybe rage. Rage that she had moved on. Gotten over the pain he had caused. Or so he thought.

Instead, the longer she stared at him with a death glare, the more memories rushed back into Lily's minds. The way he would stand over her as though he could hurt her. Then claiming it was fine because he never hit her. or the way he would spit names at her after an argument. The way his fists would ball up. How he would punch holes into the wall that Lily had to fix because he didn't want to pay for them to be fixed. Nor did he want to fix them. The times she would place Hunter back down in his crib and then fall to her knees in tears, remembering how he slammed the door and walked out.

"You are done being a father, Scott. I'm taking full custody."

11 notes · View notes

jojo-reader-hell · 4 years

Note

Haloo bebe. May i request for some ocean man content where shes hes twin and they're both solving mysteries in morioh. Also where josuke and the gang admires her personality (which is a complete opposite of joot's) thankyouuu

OCEAN MAN TAKE ME BY THE HAND LEAD ME TO THE LAND

Also forgive me, I couldn’t find any NICE pictures of Jotaro with his Uncle so instead we get a prime example of why you’re the favorite in the family.

For obvious reasons, Josuke really likes how polite and caring you are, and let’s be honest, it really helps that his “little” niece or nephew is this really cute person in their 20s.

The resemblance to Jotaro is uncanny, and by extension to Josuke. At first he was unsure and didn’t need the attachment of more family other than his mother, but when you begin to tear up and hug him tightly saying you’re happy to meet him, he can’t help the swell of pride he has knowing in some way you belong to him. It’s a hard to describe feeling.

“Don’t you think we look alike?” He smiles, pointing to his face. “Especially around the eyes?”

“Haha! Well... I can’t really tell, you see I’m actually kind of really blind at the moment without my glasses, and Bubba crushed them with his fat ass on the way here. But I’ll agree with you, since you kind of sound like me too!”

“My sibling means to say you sound as dorky and plucky as they do.”

“SHUT UP JOJO!”

“Hey, so, ignore my Bubba, he’s got no manners. But it’s really nice to meet you. If I’m being honest... I’ve always wanted an Uncle, and I hope maybe if you don’t want to take on that role maybe we could be friends? I’ve got a Stand too!”

Queen’s Requiem of Sword looks different when you call her out, sporting a visor over her eyes that echoes your developing blindness and wearing what looks to be a Victorian wedding dress, but that’s to be expected. Since your Stand awakened you’ve been training nonstop with her. She’s learned a lot of neat tricks, and she entertains Crazy Diamond with her new Kulning ability. You told Josuke that you were dragged to Morioh by your brother during a particularly intense training session in the French Alps, so you’re still bundled up like you’re going to fucking Antarctica. Josuke makes a comment about how you’ll never have to hear him scold you for leaving the house without a sweater.

“You live in France?”

He’s positively fascinated when you nod excitedly and tell him about your life in the French countryside with your husband and twin boys. Josuke was unsure about getting to know his new found family, but you make it so easy with your friendliness that he can’t help but encourage you to go on about yourself.

Josuke is a Grand Uncle! He’s got two grand nephews: Thomas and Guillaume Emmanuel Polnareff (you tell him when he struggles over the pronunciation that you can simply call him Guy Manuel, it’s what Grandpa Joseph does), and you produce a small photo album which he flips through eagerly. Amazed to see two little boys with freckles and starlight hair, and even more touched when in some pictures he can see little twin stars on the back of their necks.

“I live in Hautvillers. My momma, your sister Holly, she moved with me when we had the kiddos, I didn’t want her to stay in Japan where she didn’t have anyone. Honestly Bubba isn’t the best at keeping contact, don’t tell anyone that, but this whole thing with the will and upsetting Granny has been the most I’ve spent with him in like, ten whole years...”

“You didn’t want to stay?”

You shake your head, telling him about all the bad memories you had here, the neglect from your father, the death of your first love, nothing tied you down here except your mother. And the second your husband put the deposit down for the ring you asked your Grandpa (his father) to sell the house and give her the money to move into the house next door.

Josuke finds himself asking you all sorts of questions about his grandfather. What kind of a person is he? Why cheat on the love of his life? There are quite a few hurtful ones peppered in there as well that you don’t quite know how to answer, because Josuke is trying very hard to hate his father, and you were practically raised by him your entire life.

“I can answer some questions for you Uncle, can I call you that? But I’m going to be honest with you... all I’ve ever known is that Joseph Joestar is a good man, and that’s the god’s honest truth. If he would have known, he wouldn’t have let your mother pay for anything for you. He would have possibly taken both of you to New York with him like he did when I didn’t want to finish high school in Japan. He all but dragged my mother with me, I know what it’s like, and I can’t imagine what your mom went through. Mine did it with two kids, and there were times I had to keep my mouth shut so my grandpa wouldn’t find out how much my mom was struggling. I know what a deadbeat dad is, my parents were married all nice and proper and he barely gave her enough money to feed me and my brother, let alone her. Greedy bastard didn’t even come home often enough for me to remember what he looks like.”

He’s quiet as you let out your frustrations and rage against your father. It’s familiar, this feeling of abandonment. Underneath that kind exterior he works so hard to maintain he’s just as angry as you are, and for a minute doesn’t want to believe what you’re telling him. He wants to believe he’s alone because it’s easier, you told him you never asked where your deadbeat dad was but he did. Neither he nor his mother aware of the double life Joseph was living at the time, Josuke would see other kids on the playground and cry wondering how come he didn’t have a daddy to push him on the swings.

He’s actually fairly jealous of you, and it doesn’t help that his friends are just as captivated by your enthusiasm and overly friendly nature. You got all the best parts it seems, and now that you’ve told him all the best qualities of Joseph: spending your summers playing with him in Central Park, the times at the Met, or even just the general sweetness, he can’t help but let the resentment bubble that you had the life he wanted.

All of that resentment melts away however, when you casually wrap your arm around Josuke, and he feels your warmth even though your body temperature is unnanturaly low because of your stand.

“Hey, if you ever just wanna get away, you and your momma always have a room in France or a plane ticket. If you don’t have passports I can help with that too. I don’t know if you’d like to, but my boys wanted to meet you. Jean Jean was really excited too, and he couldn’t stop blabbing about how wonderful it was to find my family. Now I’m starting to see how right he was. I’m really glad I came with Jotaro to meet you.”

304 notes · View notes

morrigan24601 · 3 years

Text

More Family Context

So my last post about my oldest stepson and daughter-in-law expecting made me realize that I have never really talked about my stepsons on here before, even though my boyfriend/partner and I have been together for almost 7 years? So I figured I’d do a post about that. Sorry in advance for this - there’s a lot of drama involved, unfortunately.

CW: divorce, custody issues, homophobia/biphobia, manipulation, abuse, parental alienation

Also, obligatory disclaimer that I do not give permission to ANYONE to share this story without my express consent. (I’m doing this because I’ve seen personal stories get shared from Reddit onto YouTube and whatnot and I really do not want that to happen here.)

Looooooooooong, looooooooong post.

...

Years ago, long before I even met my dude, he went through a supremely nasty divorce. His sons with his ex-wife were very small at the time (youngest son was still just a baby/toddler). There was a lot of emotional and verbal abuse on her end. He didn’t talk about it much because he didn’t think anyone would believe him.

Things gradually got worse instead of better after the divorce, unfortunately. As soon as she found out that he had started dating men after the divorce, she began spreading rumors among their mutual friends/acquaintances that he had always been gay (he’s bi), that he had never loved her (he had), and that she had just been a beard for him and this was why they had gotten divorced (it was actually because he had stuck it out for as long as possible and couldn’t handle her abuse any longer). She got very weird about him dating men - like, ultra-homophobic, ridiculous, “I don’t want my sons being molested by your gay boyfriends because I think all/most gay men are secretly pedophiles” weird. She began refusing to let the boys come over to his place as long as he was in a relationship with a man. “If you date women instead, I’ll consider it.”

In hindsight, he absolutely could have fought this in court because they had joint custody and there was no way she should have been able to do this and get away with it. Unfortunately, the state we live in has always been extraordinarily conservative and this was the early-to-mid 2000s, and he worried that he would face additional homophobia/biphobia in court. He also worried that fighting her over anything in court would make everything exponentially worse for both him and the kids. So he just let it go and saw the boys at her place or a neutral location whenever he could.

Eventually he moved out of state to try to make more money. His ex-wife remarried and, almost immediately, she and her new husband began harassing him about giving up his parental rights so that her new husband could adopt the boys and they could “have a real dad”. He was obviously not okay with this, but the manipulation went on for two years. At one point he ran into some temporary difficulty paying child support, and she jumped on this as “proof” that he was a terrible deadbeat dad who didn’t deserve his children.

So finally, after years of his anxiety and depression being exploited by his ex-wife, he finally began thinking that maybe his boys would actually be better off without him, that they’d be better off with a “real family” with a dad who was married to their mom. He drove back to home state and signed away his rights, and it was, he’s told me, the absolute worst day of his life.

She didn’t bother to show up to the hearing where he signed the papers. He found out shortly afterward (and this almost sounds like a bad movie plot, but it’s true) that she had recently divorced the man who was supposed to adopt the boys and hadn’t bothered to inform him of this fact.

She refused to let him see or contact the boys in any way after he signed the papers, and legally, there was no longer anything he could possibly do about it. He attempted to contact them through her quite a few times, but always in vain and he eventually stopped trying because it was too painful. She eventually remarried again and this time her new husband actually did adopt the boys.

Years went by. He and I met and started dating. He told me about the boys on our first date, when I told him I had kids and asked if he had any. “Yes...and also no,” was his somber response. He was...remarkably restrained while talking about his ex-wife that first time. “She’s a strong woman,” he said, “and I hope she’s been a good mom.” I only learned later how abusive she had actually been to him. He sort of...handwaved a lot of it, even when he did tell me. I actually had to tell him “that was abuse. She abused you. Like...hardcore.”

I asked if he ever thought about contacting the kids after they turned 18. He said he definitely wanted to, but he was sort of scared about it.

Fast forward to about 2 1/2 years ago. His oldest son was over 18 now. He was contacted by his oldest son’s girlfriend on Facebook. The message was something along the lines of “Hi, are you [son’s] biological dad? [Son’s mom] and [son] told me some stuff about you, and I thought I’d find you and talk to you about it, because a lot of it seemed really...off. [Son’s mom] said that you were gay and that this was why you divorced [son’s mom] and that after you signed the papers you didn’t want anything to do with the kids, that you never wanted to call or talk to them or anything, and [son] totally believes this because that’s what she’s been telling him his whole life. That seemed weird to me though and I wanted to find out the truth.”

He told her the truth. She was sort of floored, but not overly surprised, because she’d had her own emotionally abusive run-ins with her eventual mother-in-law. There were a lot of conversations over the course of the next year, a lot of her trying to convince oldest son to talk to his bio dad and a lot of resistance from oldest son because of everything he had been raised to believe by his mother. My partner wrote his oldest son a long message at one point explaining some things and telling him how much he loved him while trying to stay as neutral as possible about his ex-wife/son’s mom in order not to stir too much up. Total radio silence from oldest son. We kind of accepted at this point that we might not hear from him for a long time (if ever). Still, partner was still in contact with oldest son’s gf (who at that point had become oldest son’s fiancee), and she and oldest son got married last year. She apologized that they didn’t invite us to the wedding; there was still a lot of hostile awkwardness on oldest son’s part. We understood, and didn’t fault them for it at all.

Finally, a few months after they’d been married, DIL (daughter-in-law) said she wanted to come over, and we agreed. Unexpectedly, she brought oldest son with her, having finally convinced him to come at the last minute. Oldest son was super polite to both of us, and to my kids, but we found out much later he actually felt super awkward and angry and was just hiding it really well. Fortunately after repeated visits he realized his bio dad was a pretty cool guy and that his mom was, to get right to the point, full of shit. There’s been a lot that we’ve found out from oldest son about his mom’s behavior over the years, which is really unfortunate and honestly backs up everything my partner told me. We thankfully have a great relationship with oldest son and DIL now.

Youngest son is now 18 as well (almost 19) but, unfortunately, has much the same outlook as oldest son once did and currently wants nothing to do with his bio dad. However, oldest son and youngest son recently went on a roadtrip together and had a very long talk about the whole thing, and youngest son apparently got sort of thoughtful. We’re hopeful that he will eventually come around too.

Hopefully none of this has sounded like some kind of weird misogyny on my part while talking about my partner’s ex-wife. I just...have zero tolerance for bullies and abusers and she honestly blows my mind. I wanted to believe for a long time that a) there are two sides to every story and the truth of this particular situation possibly lay somewhere in the middle, and b) that maybe she had mellowed over the years and maybe felt at least a twinge remorseful and cooperative about things, but according to oldest son, that is absolutely not the case. She is still holding on to a lot of anger and bitterness and insecurities from her own abusive childhood and she constantly projects those insecurities onto people she’s supposed to love and care for, including her children. She was apparently livid when she found out that oldest son had cultivated a relationship with his bio-dad, because her carefully-constructed narrative of “the father of my oldest children was a terrible person who never wanted his kids” was suddenly in serious jeopardy. DIL has overheard her shit-talking the situation to friends, and oldest son has gotten more than one earful of “how could you do this to meeeeee, I raised you and protected you” which is just...ARGH. (On the flip side, she apparently got this shocked Pikachu face when oldest son told her about me - a woman, in a loving, long-term relationship with the man that for years has been the subject of her “he divorced me because he isn’t into women” narrative. That gave me a really good laugh!)

Anyway, that is the saga of my bonus sons and their unfortunate alienation from my partner/their bio dad, and the reason I wasn’t able to help raise them in their teens (I so wish I could have). I love them and my DIL so much, more than I honestly ever thought possible to love kids who aren’t “mine”, but like...they are. They’re my kids as much as my bio kids are. I felt that way long before I met them. My bonus sons are part of my partner, part of his heart, so they became my kids in my head immediately, and DIL became my kid immediately too. So I love them. It’s automatic for me. And I love my grandbaby-on-the-way with all my heart too and I can’t wait to meet that sweet little bean.

#I'm not sure what to tag this because I don't want a bunch of strangers viewing it so I'm just gonna tag it like this #morrigan's heavy stuff

3 notes · View notes

minkillah · 4 years

Text

hello everyone!! my name’s lua, my pronouns are she/her and i’m a resident of gmt+1. i’m super excited for this group to get rolling so i can write with you all. i play choi minki (kim taehyung) of lotto fame. if you’re interested in interacting with him just ♡ this post and i’ll give you all of my love.

born and raised in busan’s gamcheon village, south korea, the former underground rapper turned ambitious lotto all-rounder has been under marathon entertainment for nine years. winners know him as the unspoken protector of the group, and his observant nature allows him to encapsulate ideas in his music with a persuasive edge, but he’s at times criticized for being too eccentric and sardonic.

OVERVIEW

FULL NAME: choi minki

STAGE NAME: MINKI, minkillah (pre-debut/underground)

NICKNAME(S): min, key

GENDER (PRONOUNS): cismale (he/him)

DATE OF BIRTH (AGE): 1994, march 5th. (25)

HOMETOWN: gamcheon village in busan, south korea

RESIDENCE: seoul, south korea

OCCUPATION: lead rapper, vocalist and visual of lotto.

SEXUALITY: bisexual.

HEIGHT: 181cm

HAIR COLOR: naturally jet black (often dyed for his job, currently dark brown)

EYE COLOR: dark brown

TATTOOS: upper arm white tiger (sleeve tattoo, is a work in progress), roman numeral wrist tattoos (left wrist: lotto debut date / right wrist: his mother's birthday)

PIERCINGS: several in his ears.

SCAR: small childhood scar along his knee from falling on broken glass at the beach.

NOTABLE FEATURES: intense and piercing eyes / long eyelashes / big hands / deep voice / nose, cheek and lip moles / big boxy smile.

FACE CLAIM: kim taehyung

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE: protective, contemplative, playful, mischievous, ambitious, loyal, soulful, creative, plainspoken, focused, steadfast, sentimental, observant, intuitive, tenacious, passionate, wry.

NEGATIVE: eccentric, sardonic, juvenile, intense, pent-up, stubborn, hard to know, single-minded, competitive, temperamental, moody, untrusting, all-or-nothing.

LIKES: art, music, anything unique, reading long letters from fans, writing, working, poetry, performing, sincerity, intimacy, the sea, candles, mystery, travelling, warm hands, depth, long conversations, feeling connected to someone, driving at night, visiting home, his mother.

DISLIKES: feeling controlled, invasions of privacy, assumptions, loneliness, boredom, shallow conversations, having his trust broken, spinelessness, being lied to, self-victimizing, blowhards, people who don’t keep their word, his father.

HABITS: staying up late to work on music, collecting headbands and baseball caps, chewing gum, bouncing his leg, man-spreading, calling his mom every day, stuffing his hands into his pockets, scribbling lyrics on things he shouldn’t (napkins, his hand), clicking his tongue, quirking his eyebrows, making funny faces to relax, stretching his neck by tilting his head to the side, rolling his shoulders.

FEARS: losing his mom, never being accepted for who he is, resembling his deadbeat dad, the general public finding out his father left their family.

STYLE: streetwear, skatewear, city-ready and modern, comfortable, relaxed fits, a touch of grunge, baseball caps, logo t-shirts, headbands, thick rimmed glasses, black trousers, hoodies, worn buckle-boots, chunky sneakers, retro runners, wide-cut trousers, shirt tuck, pleated pants.

SMOKE? no.

DRUGS: no.

ALCOHOL: yes.

HEADCANONS

minki’s outer mask of aloofness is a cover for his stormy inner life. he’s always battling between his heart and mind, conscious of how emotions can make him look; sometimes he’s cool and level-headed, and other times he’ll throw his weight around. ultimately he’s emotional and has a great desire for intimacy.

once he lets his guard down, he’s more than willing to show how much he truly cares for someone. for special someones, he feels a poignant love strong enough to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. when these feelings are hard to verbalize, he expresses them best through action.

the promise of emotional depth and soul-level understanding shines out of his eyes. he’s a good listener, maybe because he’s often listening into the hidden layers of what people are saying. his closest relationships are the equivalent of feeling an overwhelming urge to call someone, only to find they were just about to call you.

in a world of tell-all social media, he’s quite a private person. anyone close to him has to be able to keep secrets. the classified files of his personal history are only ever revealed to those who’ve earned his trust.

while it can be hard for minki to let others in, he also intensely needs others, and he needs to go deep with them. it’s important for him to have close friends and special someones who are in it with him for the long haul.

he’s got an animal magnetism on stage and knows how to turn it on for the effect of something tender, edgy, soulful or brutal.

prone to jealousy and paranoia and will do anything to hide it. he needs mutual reassurance in relationships, and betrayal of any kind is the death knell for any relationship with him, friendship or otherwise. a true loyalist.

ambitious and will do whatever he needs to attain his goal. he also has a strong competitive characteristic that pushes him to strive for greatness.

drops one-liners and quotables in public that, for good and bad, will follow him until the end of his career. doesn’t seem to get embarrassed even when he misspeaks in interviews and can help dispel tensions at times using poker-faced humor at his own expense.

minki knew next to nothing about fashion or make up prior to joining the company and was shocked to learn stylists saw enough potential in him to appoint him as "visual" of the group. these days he moves with more awareness in regards to how he represents lotto to the public, and sometimes jokes in interviews that his face does all the work.

shockingly good at aegyo despite his image and the intense vibes his face gives off. variety shows used to love asking him to perform cute gestures and whatnot back in the day, but thankfully that doesn't happen as much now that he's older.

sheds not a single tear all year but can be seen full on bawling at the end of annual fanmeetings.

as the third oldest in the group, he’s something of a bridge between the younger members and the oldest members of lotto.

that big goofy rectangle grin makes him look like a different person when he smiles.

one of the members most likely to slip into satoori.

plays the piano; currently learning guitar.

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER: choi misun (52), a writer and local artist in gamcheon culture village.

FATHER: doesn’t know his father.

SIBLINGS: none.

OTHER RELATIVES: they’re rarely in touch.

PETS: none. loves & wants pets of his own, but worries he won’t be able to care for a living thing. dotes on other people’s animals instead.

LOVERS: single.

HISTORY

CHILDHOOD

when minki was born, his mom decided the only thing scarier than being a single mother was not being a mother at all. her ex-boyfriend, minki's dad, denied the child was his and refused to support her decision to keep him. her parents begged her to give the boy for adoption, threatening to disown her, but it was too late: looking into her son’s eyes she felt certain, more than she’d been of anything, that he wasn’t a mistake. he was her miracle. she would raise him alone, an unwanted mother and the black sheep of her family.

relatives gathering for holidays didn’t want the two of them attending, and neighbors were told made-up stories of a husband passing away, all to protect the family’s reputation. for some time, minki was too young to notice anyone’s absence: it’d always been just him and his mother and he didn’t know of anything different. this changed as he grew up and was confronted with the lack of a father figure in his life - or grandparents, aunts and cousins.

he became painfully aware of his mother’s struggles. her writing and art wasn’t enough to support them, and she worked too hard for most of her life, taking on several labor-intensive jobs to feed and clothe him. theirs was a humble but colorful life in the poor seaside village of gamcheon, located in the coastal city of busan.

at the epicenter of art, beauty and chaos, minki spent his childhood running through steep slopes and tiny alleys nestled between a mishmash of pastel-colored houses, a deep blue sky and ocean in the background. he was often alone, as all throughout school, there were classmates whose mothers instructed them not to play with him, or would tease him for not having a father.

birds of a feather flock together. minki found friendship in the company of children who either seemed different, outcasts just like him, or those who accepted him and didn’t care about rumors and social status. his best friend was a neighboring child of an eclectic couple of local artists and acquaintances of his mother.

in his early teens, there was anger and hurt simmering beneath minki’s exterior. he was at an emotionally painful passage of his life and wanted to act out, but knew that it would break his mother’s heart if anything ever happened to him. not wanting to hurt her the way his father had hurt her, minki turned to art as an outlet for destructive thoughts, and music became his way of dealing with the sense of chronic loss.

hip-hop was raw, emotional and honest. it was a device in and of itself, a friend to play with. twotime had a huge influence on minki as a teenager, and inspired him to start writing songs when he was 14 years old. thanks to the democratization of music through the internet, he found a way to pirate software and started producing beats in his bedroom.

CAREER

he was active in busan’s underground hip hop scene during high school, competing in rap battles under the name minkillah. it wasn’t only his rapping that garnered attention; minki eventually began establishing himself as an emerging producer, composing beats for local talent in his hometown.

looking for a challenge that would take his music to the next level, minki entered a hip hop competition held by marathon entertainment. when staff met with the young man in person, they insisted he enter a second audition with the potential of joining a new idol group the company planned to debut.

minki passed the second audition and joined marathon entertainment as a trainee at 16. dreaming of one day providing his mother the kind of life where she never had another day, and possibly making music with his role models in twotime, he moved away from home and enrolled into a high school in seoul to complete his formal education while attending daily vocal, rap and dance lessons.

after the grueling trainee period, he joined the final lineup of lotto and debuted as the group’s lead rapper, vocalist and visual.

CONNECTIONS

MASC.

SQUAD GOALS: masc. 20-30. (0/5) simply put, i’d love for minki to have this big dumb friend group featuring top dog male idols from marathon ent. they’re often seen hugging at award shows, going out for bbq, travelling together, clowning each other and breaking the internet whenever they upload selfies!!

MENTOR: masc. 35+. (0/1) this is an older muse minki looks up to and confides in. whether y/m realizes it or not, they’ve become a father figure to minki. he doesn’t have to be another artist! anyone who works at marathon ent (producer, choreographer, etc) would work, as long as minki feels like he can trust them. they’re equipped with the maturity and experience to give him advice about his life, music or relationships.

SOULMATE: masc. 23-25 (0/1) soulmate /ˈsəʊlmeɪt / noun “a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.” these two are each other’s, through and through. y/m is minki’s second home; they complement and complete each other. their relationship doesn’t have to be romantic at all, even if it has potential to be, in the case of complicated feelings and the crossing of lines. platonic or not, though, minki is in need of deep and meaningful connections, where he feels known. where he feels understood. he thrives off of them. y/m either knows minki since he lived in his hometown busan (there was a childhood best friend, if you’re interested) or since they were trainees. possibly they both attended the same high school in seoul, too.

RIVAL: masc. 23-27. (0/1) a little bit of friendly competition never hurt anyone. these two boys are seen as evenly matched in many regards (leave it to their fans to debate the validity of that, though) and often pitted against each other, sometimes on purpose to rack up clicks and excitement. whether there’s any truth to the rivalry or genuine animosity can be discussed! a future collab between them would create immense amounts of buzz, though.

FEM.

OLDER SISTER. fem. 35+ (0/1) quite similar to the connection above, but in this case, y/m is more of an older sister to minki, maybe even a mom away from home. seeing right through him, she knows when to put him in his place and when to offer him gentle guidance. she’s one of the people he’s come to respect the most at marathon entertainment and he absolutely loathes to disappoint her.

HEARTBREAK: fem. 21-25. (0/1) minki’s last love was a lost love. maybe they could’ve been happy together if they weren’t both idols, but it’s too late for that now. foolishly, though, they still keep in touch and spent time with each other as “friends.” they’ve seen so much and know so much of each other, there seems to be no greater comfort for him than hearing y/m’s voice and feeling their warmth in his arms when life goes to shit. but they’re still just friends… let’s hash the rest out to make sure we’re on the same page! inspiration for this connection comes from the lyric “isn’t that what friends are for, even if we used to be more?” from the song partners in crime. if the world was ending is another inspiration.

KNIGHT. fem. 18-23. (0/2) minki as an older brother to y/m!! growing up an only child, he never knew what it was like to have siblings, let alone a younger sister. i think his inexperience in combination with protectiveness could result in endearing and fun interactions. however, he is prone to projecting his own cynical and hostile views onto men that approach women he’s fond of, which isn’t exactly fair to anyone? having someone like y/m in his life could push him toward character-development, though.

NIGHTINGALE. fem. 22-24. (0/1) a nightingale made a mistake; she sang a few notes out of tune: her heart was ready to break, and she hid away from the moon. a small, sweet-voiced songbird that goes on singing late into the night. she's far too bright to be a nocturnal creature in his eyes, but she breaks the stillness, and she’s taken to asking him for advice. they’re quiet company, willing to sit in silence or talk for hours about who knows what, trying to figure out what they are. not even minki knows. he just enjoys her company, and perhaps they’ve found something to bond over. it's still small and precious and new.

ALL.

ALWAYS: if you're thinking of a different connection that isn't listed here but pings you, please dm me about it!! i'd love to plot and throw in my own suggestions. as a quick aside, i'm always open to friendship, group members, platonic m/f & mf/m dynamics, mentoring, flings, exes, secret relationships, rivalries, innocent crushes, muses, staff members, co-writers, trainees, unrequited feelings, pining, etc.

#ment.intro #OOC.

17 notes · View notes

cyanidefilledcandy · 4 years

Text

So, gonna be talking about some sensitive stuff right now...

I am extremely and beyond frustrated right now.

So, the other day, I made a mistake a butt-dialed my sister’s phone while I was at work. (Note: I work overnight.) Later that day, I get a call back from her. I was planning on telling her I made a mistake and whatnot, but instead, a guy answers with a “Who is this?”

This is one of my BIGGEST pet peeves. Do NOT call MY phone and ask me “Who is this?” Regardless of if I called first or what, you don’t have to be rude. I’ve had people mistakenly call me before. And so, I would call back like “Hey. How are you? I got a message or call from this phone. May I ask who this is.” Like, it’s not hard to not be a fucking asshole. So, I responded with “Who is this?!” And they got quiet before hanging up.

At first, I’m wondering if her phone got stolen, so I call my mom to find out. But, before she even picks up, it dons on me that maybe it was her baby daddy, and naturally, I’m wondering why he has her phone and I immediately land on the answer. If it was indeed him, he probably thought I was some guy or something stupid, if my sister didn’t have my number saved. So, I call my mom who confirms that her phone wasn’t stolen to her knowledge. Then we call my sister and my mom hangs up.

I asked my sister if he had her phone and at first she’s like “No. We don’t go through each other’s phones like that” because I do have her old number in my phone and never deleted it. Then she adds “I reckon...” That gives me pause. And then she informs me that her phone has been deleting numbers and contacts, etc. (which thinking about it now, I’m starting to have suspicions about...) I’m boiling, one because I hate being hung up on and two, I’m starting to see shady shit. Going through someone’s phone, especially when they are not around is WAY overstepping a boundary. And two, why the fuck would he have her phone when she’s at work alone without a car, and WORSE, I would find out...

So, my sister says she’ll check with him and I tell her to warn him to never hang up in my face again. She gives a little nervous laugh and I let her get back to work. I start to message him and tell him myself that I don’t care how he treats other women, including my sister, he’s GOING to respect me, but hold off on it. (Though, I’m still considering it.)

Fast forward to today, I talk to my mom who asks me had I heard from her and if she was alright, which I did. She video called last night. Long story short, my mom was babysitting my niece yesterday and didn’t have any food, so she asked my sister if she could go and get the card from BD, which....

My sister tells her that he’s at the job he supposedly lost months ago (they both seem to have forgotten she already said he “lost” the job). So, my mom drives there only to be informed that he doesn’t work for them anymore (big shock). My sister then tells my mom that he works in a different department and...

ALSO, not only does he apparently have her phone and her food stamp card, but also has her BANK card, and.... I’m so pissed and over this situation.

This guy has never been any amount of good. He doesn’t work. Has a car he never lets my sister use. Doesn’t even watch his own kid (or spend time with her from what I’ve seen and heard). Used their kid to claim her on her taxes, which he didn’t tell anyone about and didn’t give my sister OR the kid a cent. And acts like he’s SUCH an important part of my sister’s life and that she would just be LOST without him. Again, he doesn’t work at all and my sister has family out the ass she can go to. My sister got her apartment. She and my family furnished her apartment completely. This guy didn’t do shit. She doesn’t NEED him at all.

At first, I thought the dude was just a deadbeat, but now I’m starting to see he’s an abuser. Even before then, my sister wanted to move up here to make a better life for she and my niece and he whined that “she was taking his daughter from him”. Honestly, I should’ve seen the signs early on. But, now it’s so blatantly obvious and I’m just not at all here for it.

I know exactly where this is going and if she doesn’t get out now, it’s going to get to a point where she will not be able to. But, I also know that abuse victims absolutely will not leave their partners no matter how bad things get until they’re ready for it. And my sister’s smart. I know she sees what’s going on. At first, I thought she was afraid of her child growing up without her parents in the same household because she knows how my parents’ divorce affected her. Now, I’m starting to wonder if she might be afraid. She’s kicked him out twice and he’s sobbed to get her to take him back, but still... The guy is HUGE, so maybe she really is...even though my mom and her husband live less than 5 minutes away from her and my mom’s husband, even through his bullshit, does think of us, my sister especially, as his daughters and is pretty street hard, so....he’d fight for her. My mom would kill for her. My mom literally stabbed someone in the head for yelling with my sister in the room. (Note, this person was not yelling AT my sister...just with her in the room....and my mom stabbed her....in the head...) My dad and most of his siblings are ex military, he, at least, is armed and very over protective. (It took me three whole days for me to talk him down from killing the people who attacked me.) And then there’s me...

I’ve always been protective of my sister and I’m honestly at a point in my life where....I just don’t care.

So, speaking of that....when she calls me tonight and i make sure the phone is in her hands and he’s not around, I’m just going to be frank with her. Again, I’m at a point in my life where I don’t care to tiptoe around people’s feelings. I don’t care to bullshit. I’m going to tell her straight up that this is abusive behavior and she needs to get out NOW. Because it’s only going to escalate from here and it’s going to get to a point where either she can’t escape or he’s going to kill her or my niece (which God and Satan and every other deity in the universe help him if he does). If she wants to leave and she’s scared to, all she has to do is say the word. She doesn’t have to say or pack anything. I will be down there to get her and her baby and drive them back up here. If she’s scared he’ll hurt my mom, my mom can come with us. Hell, she’s not doing anything in that shitty town anyway except for being miserable. We can go back at a later date with my dad and we’ll pack up all of their stuff and get a storage room until we can do better.

God in Heaven knows I want to leave this fucking state, but if it comes to the point where we have to get an apartment here, then so fucking be it. And if that motherfucker even LOOKS like he wants to do something, I will light his ass up like a house during Christmas.

Again....I’m at the point now where I don’t care... I hesitated to kill the fuckers who attacked me because I didn’t want my stepmom to come home to find her daughter dead. Because I loved my stepmom more than I hated her bitch daughter (and believe me when I say that is saying a LOT, and not just because of what they did to me). Lo and behold, they’re still here today and out of jail to abuse their children for another decade. I also once had a friend tell me that, though I had the desire, I didn’t really have it in me to kill someone when my sister was seeing a pedophile. I think he was right...back then. I swear....that hesitation is not there anymore. Even right now, it’s taking everything in me not to just borrow some money from my friend, head down there now, and put several bullets in him right now. Literally everything in me. And I don’t give a fuck if my sister and niece hate me for the rest of their lives. I really, really don’t. I love them more than I hate him, true enough, but that’s exactly why I won’t hesitate to put that fucker down....because I know in the end, they’ll be better off. The world would be better off. And I know I’m not God and I have no right to make that decision, but if the alternative is my sister and niece wind up hurt or dead, then oh well. I’ll go to Hell for that...

It’s funny....I had a dream when my niece was first born that my niece got killed, he was responsible for it, and my sister was in denial about the whole thing. I chalked it to just a crazy dream, but....

But, anyway, I’m going to lay it on the table for my sister. I know she’s not going to want to hear it. She’s going to get pissed off. She’ll ignore it. She may even hate me. But, it’s going to drive me insane if I don’t at least say my piece. (And yes. I will tell her to make sure she deletes it when she’s done reading; I’m not an idiot.) But, maybe if the seed is there, and maybe if I remind her that she does indeed have options, then she’ll wisen up before it’s too late. Maybe not now....but before it’s too late.

Sorry for the length (to anyone who actually read this until the end), but I just had to get this all out. Again, I’m so pissed and frustrated and holding back the urge to commit murder without probable cause, so I feel like I’m going to explode, and I want to just kill myself because I can’t handle the idea of my sister and niece being hurt, or the fact that my sister is smarter than this and that she likely won’t listen to what I have to say and.....I’m just tired. I’m tired of the world.

People act like it’s so hard to just be decent fucking people and then the ones who refuse to listen to reason and keep themselves in a shitty situation, and I’m just tired of caring about people more than they care about themselves. And I’m tired of caring about everything so deeply and being powerless to do anything about anything and I just have no idea what to do with these pent up feelings right now, other than violence (either against someone else or against myself). I’ve tried drawing, but that didn’t help. Maybe this blog will at least calm me down to the point where I don’t feel so impulsively and manically violent, though....

#diary #rant #abuse #domestic abuse #emotional abuse

3 notes · View notes

justanoutlawfic · 5 years

Text

I’ll Be There For You: 1/2

Based on "The One With The Baby" from Friends.

Robin is waiting for the birth of his godson when he somehow ends up assisting a stranger with her own labor.

For Tueday (Day 1) of @oqmovieweek

Also on AO3

Robin knew he wasn’t normal, but this had to seal the deal. Normal people didn’t do this. They didn’t show up at the hospital the day their ex-wife went into labor with the child they would be raising with their new spouse. Yet, there he was, sitting in the waiting room. Mulan had texted him that Marian had gone into labor and he rushed over. Despite being divorced for 3 years, they were still friends. Maybe it helped that things had ended amicably. Robin realized that while he loved Marian, he wasn’t in love with her and Marian had come out as a lesbian.

Even the best of friends probably wouldn’t have showed up, but there he was. Mulan and Marian told him it could take a while, so he settled in the waiting room. Some people might think that the baby was supposed to be theirs, but he didn’t look at it like that. He and Marian had never discussed children, it wasn’t in the cards for them. He was happy for her and Mulan. They’d make great mothers, and he’d help them in any way he could.

The waiting room was empty, so all Robin had for company was the soccer game on T.V. American teams could not hold a candle to the ones back in England (where it was properly called football, but he had given up that argument a long time ago), but he was still rooting for the college teams. Given that he had gone to Syracuse and they were playing, he glommed onto them.

“Come on!” He exclaimed when they missed a clear shot. “The goalie’s incompetent, you totally had it!”

“Syracuse fan?” A feminine voice from behind him asked.

He turned to find a shorter woman, clearly in the later stages of pregnancy standing there. Her dark hair was thrown back in a messy bun and she was massaging her belly. “Yeah.”

“God, they suck.”

Robin’s eyebrows knitted together. “You have to be kidding me.”

The woman struggled as she found a way to sit on the couch. Robin would’ve offered to help her, but she had a determined look on her face. “You can see that Stanford is clearly kicking their ass.”

“Yeah, they got lucky, once. Syracuse ranks above their pretentious asses.”

“I’ll have you know I went to that pretentious ass school.”

“So, you’re biased.”

“Something tells me you are with Syracuse as well.”

Before Robin could respond, the woman let out a loud moan, clutching onto her stomach. Robin jumped out of his seat and hurried over to her, helping her back up.

“Are you in labor?”

“No, I just showed up here for fun,” she clutched down further on her stomach. “Yes, I’m in labor.”

“Is your husband getting a doctor?”

“No husband, just me.”

“Oh.” Robin frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s…” She let out another scream. “I just need to see a doctor.”

“Come with me.” He noticed the bag she had abandoned on the ground and picked it up. “We’ll get you signed in.”

Robin didn’t realize what he was doing until they made it to the desk and the woman asked for her name. It was only then it dawned on him that he had nothing to do with her, yet a part of him couldn’t let her go through it by herself.

“Regina,” the pregnant woman replied, fixating on her breathing. “Regina Mills.”

Regina didn’t realize that this strange man was still with her, until long after they had gotten her situated in her own room. The contractions had slowed for the time being, but this was really it, she was going to have this baby.

“Can you hand me my phone, please?” She asked. “It’s in the front pocket of my purse.”

The man nodded and handed over her cell. Going through her contacts, she scrolled right past Daniel’s name and instead called her mother.

“Cora Mills, how can I help you?”

“Mother, it’s me.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m in labor.”

There was a pause. “Oh.”

“Oh? Are you going to come?”

“Is he there?”

Regina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “No, Mother. I told you, he wants nothing to do with me or this baby.”

“Maybe if you had actually accepted Leopold’s hand in marriage…”

“I don’t want to go into this with you. What’s done is done and I’m having Daniel’s baby. You’re the only family I have, are you going to come or not?”

“I have a meeting on the Upper West Side in a half hour, it controls the future of our entire fall line. If I miss it, it will mess everything up.”

Regina bit her lip, looking up at the ceiling. “So, you’re not coming?”

“If it were a better time…and perhaps a better father…”

“Or maybe for once in my life, you could support a choice I made!”

The line went dead and Regina sighed, ending the call. She looked up at the man in front of her, who looked confused.

“She’s not much of a phone person.”

“I can tell. So, this Daniel…he’s the father?”

Regina went back to rubbing her stomach. “Yup.”

“And he’s not coming?”

“Does it look like he’s here?”

“Did you even give him a chance? If someone was having my baby, I’d want to know.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Did I ask for your views on fatherhood? No.”

The man frowned and Regina realized that she had maybe crossed a line. “Maybe I should go.”

“Yeah,” Regina said, despite meaning the opposite. “Maybe you should.”

He started walking out the door and Regina collapsed against the pillows, folding her arms over her chest. She could practically hear her mother’s voice.

Nice job, Regina. You chased another one away.

The man paused at the door, before turning around. “You want to know what Stanford’s problem is? They let the players run the team.”

Regina’s mouth dropped open. “That is so not true!”

“Yes, it is.” He made his way back over and adjusted the pillow beneath her.

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Robin.”

“What brings you to the hospital, Robin?”

“You won’t tell me your story, why should I tell you mine?”

“Because I’m in labor and need a distraction.”

Robin chuckled, plopping down in the chair besides her bed. “Fair enough. My ex and her new wife are having a baby. Right down the hall.”

“And you wanted to be here for that?”

“We’re all good friends. As weird as that sounds.”

“Very weird. I don’t think I’d want anything to do with any of my exes.”

Robin shrugged. “I’m not normal.”

“So, I’ve noticed, you’ve helped a complete stranger prepare for her own labor.”

“I’ve told you mine, you tell me yours.”

Regina unfolded her arms, allowing them to fall back to her bump. “I met the father when I decided to pick up horseback riding again. We fell for each other, but we were from different worlds. I found out I was pregnant and my mom scared him off.”

Robin frowned. “And he just listened?”

“I mean, he’s tried to talk to me since…but he walked away.” Regina could feel Robin’s eyes on her. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Look, I just met you, so I don’t know this Daniel guy…but maybe he feels he made a mistake.”

“Maybe.” Regina looked down at her stomach. “But I can do this on my own, if he really wants to be here, he’ll come.”

“How can he, if he doesn’t know?”

Regina had spent the last 8 months with her mother in her ear, telling her that this was what was best. She would have the baby and be a single mother. That was the better alternative than raising him alongside a man that didn’t want to be there. Daniel had tried calling, but Cora had convinced her that they were better off alone. In a way, it was what her mother felt she deserved for refusing to marry Leopold-the wealthy business man that had tried to woo Regina many times.

Now, she was finally getting advice from someone outside her circle. A person who probably hadn’t been raised with elitist parents, a man at that. He knew how a non-deadbeat dad would feel. Regina knew Daniel, she had fallen in love with him once. He wasn’t a deadbeat…was he?

“Maybe, but it’s too late now,” Regina murmured. “I haven’t heard from him since I was 6 months along. He’s probably long moved on by now.”

“Maybe…”

Robin couldn’t finish his thought, before Regina was hit by another contraction. She was so focused on the pain and moaning, that until it passed, she didn’t realize that Robin had slipped his hand through her own.

Regina was convinced that Robin would leave as soon as things progressed, but to her surprise, he didn’t leave her side. Occasionally he’d get texts from his ex’s new wife about the progress of their own labor, but it seemed that things had stalled. He vowed to be with Regina through the long haul. He held her hand as she contracted, distracted her from the pain with debates over college soccer and told her that she would be a good mom, even if her taste in teams sucked.

Robin was the one that ran to get the doctor when her water broke and stayed by her side when they announced the baby was crowning. A part of her knew that maybe she should insist he leave, but a bigger part of her didn’t want to. She liked having him by her side. He had made the entire thing actually bearable.

He held her hand and reminded her to breathe through every push. After a while, it didn’t seem weird anymore. Robin was like her weird doula, one she hadn’t asked for but also one that she wouldn’t trade for the entire world.

After 6 grueling hours of labor, the cries of a baby could be heard, followed by the declaration that it was a boy. The tiny baby was placed on her chest and she stared down at him in awe, stroking his chubby, sticky cheek. Regina looked up at Robin, who was beaming down at the baby with tears in his eyes.

It wasn’t until the baby was cleaned off and she had delivered the placenta, the little one back in her arms, that Robin got the text that Marian had also given birth. He looked down at Regina, almost unsure.

“The hard part is over,” she said, nuzzling her son to her chest. “Go, be with them.”

Robin smiled, reaching down to touch the baby’s hat. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“You don’t have to, really. Robin, you’ve done more than enough.”

“No one should ever go through something like this alone.”

Regina wasn’t sure if it was the hormones or the excitement of the day, but when Robin looked down at her, she felt her stomach flutter. He kissed her cheek before exiting the room and Regina returned her eyes to the baby in her arms.

“I only know one person fit to name you after,” she whispered. “My father, Henry. He was always so good to me.”

As she stared down at her son, she realized that she had never loved somebody so much. This was the greatest gift she had ever received and she couldn’t imagine how she had lived her life without him. If she felt that way, she couldn’t rob someone else of that chance.

“Excuse me,” she said when the nurse walked past her. “Would you be able to make a call for me?”

Robin walked into Marian’s room, smiling at the scene in front of him. Marian looked as exhausted as Regina had, but was beaming just as much. Mulan was perched beside her, both staring down at the bundle in Marian’s arms.

“Well, you two did it,” he said. They looked up, grinning and motioning for him to come over. “He’s amazing.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Marian whispered.

“He looks just like Marian,” Mulan said. “And a bit like Specimen 5204.”

Robin chuckled, cradling his hand behind Marian’s that held up the baby’s head.

“Does he have a name?” He asked.

“Roland, Roland Zhou Dubois-Fa.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Where were you, anyway?” Mulan asked. “I poked my head in the waiting room when I went to get Marian some more ice chips and you were nowhere to be found.”

“I was uh…” Robin scratched the back of his neck, realizing how crazy it sounded. “I was helping someone deliver a baby.”

Marian and Mulan exchanged a look, before cracking up. Robin tilted his head back, not blaming them for not believing him.

“I’m serious.”

Marian stopped laughing, tilting her own head. “You mean you played doctor?”

“It’s a long story, but I started bickering with this woman in the waiting room and she went into labor and one thing lead to another and I just stayed with her.”

“Was she cute?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “She just had a baby.”

“I’m assuming if you stayed with her, the father didn’t,” Mulan pointed out.

“That’s another long story.”

“My point is, these things don’t just happen, you know.”

Robin did know. He tried to fight it off during his visit with the newly grown Dubois-Fa family, but he couldn’t shake it off. So when it was clear that Marian needed some rest, he headed down to the giftshop and got some balloons, along with a bouquet of blue tulips. He carried them back up to Regina’s room and went to knock on the door, when he found it was already slightly ajar. Regina was already sitting up in bed, a man sitting beside her. Robin paused, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“So, this is him, huh?” The man asked.

Regina rolled her eyes. “No, Daniel, this is a loaner.”

Daniel chuckled. “I was surprised you called. I didn’t think you wanted me around.”

“To be fair, you told me that you didn’t want to be.”

“In the early days, I was scared.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Regina. I shouldn’t have said that. Your mother isn’t going to stop how much I love this baby, or you.”

Robin felt his heart sink a little in his chest, especially when he saw Regina give Daniel a small smile.

“I know,” she whispered.

Daniel placed his hand on her back. “I’m sorry you had to go through this alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. I had a doctor, a nurse and a…” Regina trailed off, her smile growing wider. “A helper guy.” She paused, looking over at Daniel. “Did you see who won the game?”

“Syracuse, by ten.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “They suck.”

Regina shrugged. “They’re not so bad,”

Robin took a step back from the door, debating his options. He could walk in and deliver the presents, but he also knew that could possibly cause drama. The fact was, Daniel, Regina and the baby were a family. They needed to work on that, without him messing things up. Besides, it wasn’t like they had known each other forever.

He set the flowers down by the door and tied the stork balloon to the door, before turning and walking away.

#i'll be there for you verse #oqmovieweek #outlaw queen #outlaw queen au #oq #oq au #regina mills #robin hood #daniel colter #marian hood #mulan ouat #henry mills #roland hood #ouat #once upon a time

16 notes · View notes

slut4supersoldiers · 6 years

Text

If you love something, set it free.

Angst prompt: “How many times are we going to end up in this same predicament?” (OG: “How is it that we always end up in this predicament?”) & “I shouldn’t care for your life, but I’m starting to and it’s becoming an inconvenience.”

Thank you @baebee35 for the request. Sorry for the delay and hope I’ve done justice to your request (sorry I tweaked one of the prompts instead of quoting it, hope that’s okay)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X OC Fem reader

Summary: Billy’s insecurities won’t leave him so he decides to leave you.

Words: 2k+

Warning: Strong language, implied smut, violence, ANGST.

A/N: This is my first angst piece and it was quite intense. I am actually happy about this one and teared up a little. Hope y’all will too. Xx

I OWN NEITHER STRANGER THINGS NOR THE GIF.

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Since, he moved to Hawkins Billy stopped celebrating Christmas because Christmas meant spending time with his family and his only family was his mom, whom his father had deserted when he found Susan. For Billy Christmas meant chain smoking in his car while driving around the town aimlessly. He hated the festivities and the happy faces and the cold. That is until he met you.

You started going out with Billy during the last semester of High school and what was estimated to be one of his many flings turned into a serious relationship and two years later a marriage (much to your mother’s dismay and Billy’s surprise). After moving back to California, after graduating the two of began celebrating Christmas with your own traditions. Billy was happy and so were you. But as the words left your mouth that day Billy’s excitement for Christmas died down.

“Bill, mom wants us over. We have to go to Hawkins this year.” It would have been your first Christmas as a married couple and Billy had a lot of plans (that involved a mistletoe and a gift for you- and him- from the nearest lingerie store). So naturally when you broke the news to him he huffed and puffed and slouched like a little boy; disappointment evident in his eyes.

“B I promise it won’t be bad. We won’t even have to stay at her place we will stay at a motel. That way can still keep up with some of our traditions.” You stroked his cheek while looking at him through your lashes.

“What are you suggesting Mrs. Hargrove?” His demeanour changed suddenly as you bit your lip.

“Well I saw the bag from Victoria’s secret maybe we could use the stuff in there.” You swiftly straddled his lap. Billy placed his arms behind him to support your bodies and smirked as you ran your fingers down his shirtless torso.

“Well princess, I can’t say no to that.”

And just like that Billy agreed with you. And just like that he now found himself nervously tugging on the tie around his neck as the two of you sat in his beloved Camaro. You looked over at your husband. Even the most oblivious person could tell that the man was nervous. He was constantly tugging at his tie or adjusting his jacket while loudly chewing on his gum (a habit he had picked up to give up smoking).

“Billy, baby relax.” You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile before he gripped on to the steering wheel tightly.

“Your mother hates me babe. It’s a little difficult to relax.” He said after a moment of silence.

You looked away from the window to your husband and said, “That’s not true.”

“It is. She never came to our wedding. She probably thinks I stole her perfect daughter.” The sudden honking which followed his words made you jolt.

“No B, she didn’t come because we married at the Town Hall and it was so abrupt.” You tried to reason with him.

“Max was there.” He argued.

“She was a witness and my mo-

“It’s okay babe I don’t blame your mother. I too would’ve hated it if my daughter ended up with a deadbeat like me.” The disappointment evident in his voice broke your heart. No matter how hard you tried to make him believe that he was worth it, no matter how hard you tried to piece back the broken man you failed to succeed. But you didn’t want to give up so you grabbed his hand from the gear stick and pressed a chaste kiss to his knuckles.

“William Hargrove you mean the world to me and I don’t care what anyone says I will always love you because you’re worth all the love and so much more.” Billy blinked away the tears that suddenly sprung to his eyes and looked ahead with a smile on his face that you had fallen in love with.

After battling your way through the cumbersome traffic you and Billy managed to reach Hawkins. The moment your car passed the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign you swore you heard Billy gulp. Once again his nervous fidgeting began, even your soft humming couldn’t calm him down. When you finally arrived in the driveway of your mother’s house you immediately hopped out and opened the door to the driver’s seat.

“Billy look at me I’ll be with you throughout the dinner. It’s a matter of hours. But the moment you feel uncomfortable you tell me and we will leave.” You put your hands on either side of his face and brought his lips to yours’. Running his tongue over your lower lip Billy pulled away and heaved out a sigh. With your fingers intertwined the two of you walked through the doors of your parents’ house.

After greeting your cousins and other relatives and introducing them to Billy the two of you settled on the couch in the corner. You slung an arm on Billy’s shoulder. But before you could sit on his lap like you usually did he lightly pushed you and gave you a tight-lipped smile. Instead of vocally questioning his actions you followed his gaze. Your mother was glaring at your husband who was now timidly trying to hide as far away from her line of vision as possible. Billy was usually very confident but whenever anyone so much as talked about Hawkins you could see him turn into the shell of a man he tried so hard to leave behind. Hawkins was the place where he had buried the demons from his past and now they were haunting him once more.

You were thankful when your dad approached the two of you with two glasses of wine, which Billy politely declined (partially because he was the designated driver and partially because he wanted to maintain a good impression on his sole supporter from your family). Softer and nicer one out of your parents, your dad was always fond of Billy. He always encouraged your mom to see the good in him. Alas! You mom never saw that.

She always complained about how he smoked (so he stopped), how his shirts were inappropriate (so despite of you complaining he buttoned them up). She had this irrational fear that he would knock you up and leave (but two years later and the two of you were going strong and actually wanted to start a family). Long story short, Billy’s insecurities about himself heightened around your mom. He felt as if she was constantly reminding of the flaws he knew he had but was trying to work on. She made him feel as if someday you’d wake up, realise you’re too good for him find someone better and walk away. And that’s exactly what your mom wanted and hoped for when she invited Adam Nixon, your ex-boyfriend.

Adam’s mom and your mom knew each other and that’s how you met Adam. The two of you lasted only for three months, because three months into the relationship you found out he was cheating on you. But your mom never let you off the hook for it.

“Ah Adam! What a wonderful surprise.” Your mom greeted him loudly.

If Billy was nervous before he was worse right now. He could practically see your mom put the plan of throwing him out into motion. Rolling your eyes at your mom’s immaturity you grabbed Billy’s trembling hand to pull him outside.

But before you could step out the stuffy room and away from your mother to enjoy each other’s company your mom called for you.

“(y/n) come here greet our guest. You remember Adam? The one that got away.” She laughed loudly.

“Of course how can I forget? I was the one who found him with his dick in some other girl. Difficult to forget that.” You gave them a smile.

“(y/n) you still haven’t gotten rid of that feisty attitude I see.” Adam walked over to you to hug you, instead you stepped back and gripped Billy’s bicep.

Huffing a little your mom continued, “Adam has started his law firm, right Adam? I personally think lawyers are better than mechanics.” Your mother took a dig at Billy and smirked as she saw the effect her words had on Billy, who was once again squirming and fidgeting with his jacket.

“Well then maybe you should’ve dated him instead of setting him up with me.” You snapped and suddenly everybody’s eyes were on you. Taking in the dumbfounded look on your mom’s face you smiled triumphantly.

“Let’s go Billy.” You pulled at his arm. The smile on your face however was knocked off when Billy refused to move. Shocked you turned around. Billy looked straight ahead and with a clenched jaw he said, “Your mother has invited us for dinner we shouldn’t disrespect her any further by leaving.” Your mom mimicked the shocked expression. Billy gave you a small smile but the exhaustion was evident on his face.

“Bill is right. Let’s start serving (y/m/n). Christmas is about joy and forgiveness. Hope we can all forgive each other and just be together.” Ever the mediator your dad interjected and patted Billy’s shoulder.

After a tense dinner all the guests filtered out, you and Billy being the last to leave. Ignoring your dad’s pleas to stay the night you told him that you two needed to get out of Hawkins as soon as possible. So you both bid farewell to your father while disregarding your mother and Adam who had still stayed back. Once near the car Billy opened the door for you but before you could get in you exclaimed, “Oh shit! I forgot my scarf. I’ll be back in a few.” Billy who was already exhausted from the events of the night could only nod when you kissed his cheek.

As you walked in you realised that your parents had already retired to their room. But much to your dismay Adam sat on the sofa with his feet on the table and your scarf in his hand. Without a word you stormed to him and attempted to pull the scarf from his hand.

“Hi beautiful. Need something?” he smiled at you, oblivious of your annoyance.

“Shut the fuck up Nixon. Give me the scarf.” You extended your hand.

“Please don’t be so cold babe. I know you still feel something for me.” He slowly rose up and held the scarf above his head and out of your reach.

“Nixon give me the damn scarf you and I both know there’s nothing between us and there nothing ever was. You never cared for me.” You were seconds away from murdering him as you saw a menacing smile make its way on his face.

“That’s the problem (y/n). I regret what I did. I am starting to care for you, for your happiness. Probably, I shouldn’t care for your life, but I’m starting to and it’s becoming an inconvenience because of your behaviour and your up-to-no-good husband.” Adam said and pulled you into him by grabbing a hold of your hand.

“Don’t you dare talk about my Billy!” You tugged at his hand trying to free yourself from his grip. But this angered him further.

“I wonder what you see in him. He is a fucking charity case; broken and desperate for help. Pathetic!” he spat.

That was the last straw and instinctively you raised your hand to slap him. But before your palm could meet his cheek he grabbed your wrist. You momentarily saw his eyes flicker to something behind you and before you could register anything his lips were on yours. With all the energy that you could muster you pushed Adam back and punched his nose. He stumbled back due to the force and held his now bleeding nose. But Adam Nixon was least of your worries when you heard the sound of the front door being slammed shut. Through the window you could see Billy frantically pulling the door of the car open. So you ran out.

“Billy wait. Baby please.” You pulled onto his hand.

“(y/n) go away.” Billy said through gritted teeth. You could feel the pain radiating off of him and it hurt you too.

“B, baby it’s not what it looked like, pl-

“Oh please! Stop lying. Just shut up. You had to do this right. This was your grand scheme with your mother. Play the poor fool, break his heart and laugh about it. Because if that’s the case you can go and tell her that the mission has been accomplished.” He shrugged you off and glared at you. You had never seen him look at you with so much disdain and anger, little did you know that he didn’t hate anyone more but himself in this moment. The second he saw Adam kissing you he felt like a teenager again. He felt the anger pulsing through him. He wanted to hurt someone and that’s exactly what he was scared off. He was a ticking time bomb and he was scared that someday he something set him off he would end up hurting you. You deserved someone saner, someone better. He knew then that he had to you go.

“B, please believe me it’s nothing like that. I love you.” By now you could feel the tears running down your cheeks. With trembling hands you reached out to hold his cheeks. But you winced as he flinched away from your touch.

“Stop lying.” He murmured. A sob escaped his parted lips as he turned away from you.

Your pain was suddenly replaced by anger. You turned him around and grabbed his collars aggressively.

“How many times are we going to end up in this same predicament, William? How many times do I have to make you believe that you are the one for me for you to finally believe me? Fucking hell look at me!” You kept pounding on his chest till he finally grabbed your wrists.

“Princess stop please, stop it.” He yelled and pulled you in. Erratic breathes left your mouths. The sound of the uneven beating of your hearts was all that was audible.

“You can’t live like this. Someday you will realise that you’re too good for me. Someday you’ll realise I am not enough.” Tears ran down his cheeks. The mesmerizing blue eyes that you had fallen for now held pain and self-hatred. You were sure that if your heart was made of glass it would get shattered into tiny pieces as the words left Billy’s lips next.

“(y/n) let go off me. Go back in. I am not good for you. You deserve better than me.” He tried to pry your hands away as if he had not hurt you enough already.

“Billy no, Billy please. Billy don’t leave me.” You grabbed onto his waist like a wailing child would hold on to their mother. But Billy’s resolve did not crumble even as you fell to his feet begging him to stay.

When the lights on the porch finally came on and your father marched in to hold you, Billy put your overnight bag on the ground, got in the car and drove away.

That night when your father picked your broken-self up and tucked you in the bed in your old bedroom you shut your eyes momentarily praying that when you open them your husband, your Billy would stumble in through the window, lie down next to you and proclaim his love for you by kissing every inch of your body, like he used to.

But this time when you opened your eyes you were met with darkness and an image in your mind of the man who once owned your heart only to break it.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x oc #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery x you #billy hargrove x you #strangers things #netflix #billy hargrove angst #angst #billy hargrove one shot

162 notes · View notes

lilianhq-blog · 5 years

Text

⋆ ◦ ° ☾ jennifer connelly + cisfemale + she/her — have you seen lilian o'sullivan? they sure have been hanging out at valdez cemetery a lot recently. they are a forty six year old known as the veteran, and they currently work for the cobras as a thief, which they’ve been doing for twenty six years. a bisexual capricorn, they are efficient + loyal, as well as stubborn + slow to trust. black coffee. red bottom heels. memories of a deceased loved one.

Hi everyone, I’m Bria and I am SO excited to be here! This is my baby Lilian, she’s proud mama to her beautiful boy Rigel. Anyways, give this post a like and I’ll hit up your DM !!

trigger warnings: death, alcohol/alcoholism

Born and raised in Valdez, Lilian didn’t have the best childhood herself growing up. While her parents weren’t necessarily affiliated with the gangs, she often found herself gravitating towards those who actually were in gangs.

Her mother was a deadbeat alcoholic, and her father was busy cheating on her mother when he wasn’t putting the bare minimum amount of effort towards his actual job. Since it was his responsibility to actually, you know, provide for their family.

Anyways, when she was a senior in high school her father left, so Lilian had to learn to provide for her and her mother. She also had to learn how to take care of an alcoholic while trying to pass her classes with straight A’s cause honestly she was still a stellar student even though her parents were shit.

Her last semester of high school came around and she met Seth--tall, dark, and handsome and utterly charming. She fell in love with him. He was a year older than her, and she’d known right off the bat that he was involved with one of the gangs, but he never mentioned, and she never asked. All that mattered to her was that he was willing to help provide for her and her mother, and she had been utterly grateful.

They dated for two years before his intentions finally became clear: he wanted to recruit her to become a Cobra. She’d make a perfect thief, and earn way more money on heists than she would working whatever day job she was at now. After a long, heated discussion, she agreed to try it out. That was twenty six years ago.

Upon taking her in as a new thief, they hadn’t expected a rookie to have such raw talent. She was eager to learn, but she was also patient and efficient in everything she did. Seth was over the moon with pride.

During her second year with the Cobras, her mom died of alcohol poisoning. Sad, yet relieved at no longer having to take care of her, she moved in with Seth.

When she was twenty three, three years after she joined the Cobras, Seth and her got pregnant. Which was both happy and sad because like, her parents were both shit, and she doesn’t want to be shit, y’know. Anyways, Seth supports her through it all, and she tried to hide it from the gang but like failed. Also Seth proposed to her after she revealed she was pregnant and they were gonna have a small wedding it was cute.

So since we can’t have nice things, Lilian was about eight months pregnant when she came home to find her husband dead in their house. NOTE: I definitely want this to be a murder of some sort, its definitely gang related, but like I haven’t plotted any details as to how or who. So like, if you think you have an idea for your character to have been the killer, feel free to hmu and we can discuss!

Devastated, Seth’s death definitely hit her harder than her mother’s death did. But also like, they happened a year apart two which is so hard on her, so cut her some slack maybe?? so she made a vow to raise her son on her own, and to shield him from gang life for as much of his life as possible.

Unfortunately, she soon found that it wasn’t possible, since she was grieving Seth’s death too hard to leave the gang. Even now, twenty three years later, she still hasn’t found out who’s killed her fiance because she’s prioritized her son’s protection over everything else.

SOME MORE FACTS: Lil is such a good mom. She has learned from her parents mistakes and she has grown from them.

She’s also very talented as a thief, she’s been doing this job for over twenty six years now, and I’m sure she’s had opportunity to move on from it in the gang, or to level up over the years, but again, her priority is Rigel.

I’m still getting a feel for her personality but she’s completely open to plotting!! I gotta go to bed soon, and I don’t know if this is gonna show up in the tags yet, but I hope y’all let me love you down.

Wanted connections:

I’m gonna be making a proper page and everything, but here’s just a few ideas so far!

exes

childhood friends

ex-friends

people she’s trained within the gang

enemies/frenemies

family members of her dead ex-fiance !!

the person who killed her ex-fiance !!!!

#outlaw.intro #death tw #alcohol tw #alcoholism tw #anyways this is so BAD

7 notes · View notes

tothewaterhq · 5 years

Text

ACCEPTED // DIOR DUPUIS

district 12 mentor → victor of the 54th → amanda seyfried fc

positive traits: sincere, captivating, gracious negative traits: dramatic, obstinate, emotional

describe their arena: The arena for the 54th annual Hunger Games can be described in one word: sadistic. The tributes were thrust into a large maze-like arena. The walls consisted of varying materials, such as brick, stone, grass/leaves/ clay, etc. Above them, there was a bright blue sky by day and a starless abyss by night. The walls of the maze were so high that they couldn’t see anything but the sky, the maze, and whatever came around the corner or out of the wall itself. With each day, the gamemakers reduced the size of the arena so that, by the thrilling conclusion, the arena was simply the starting point: the cornucopia.

The 54th arena was perhaps remembered most for the amount of tributes that went crazy trying to find their way out. Additionally, the constant onslaught of mutts, changing walls, and bloodthirsty tributes had an effect on the mental stability of the 24 kids. In fact, one tribute was so deprived that, when he walked around a corner and encountered a wall of mirrors, he assumed the tribute he saw was another. The ironic confrontation ended with the tribute stabbing themselves by accident and bleeding out as a result. Some tributes, like the eventual victor, had an easier time. However, we will learn more about this later…

biography: It all started with a foolish mistake. A desire to feel wanted mixed with pure and animalistic lust resulted in the physical union of man and woman. As a result of this sinful union, yet another mistake in the form of a human being was created. The woman, for the man had abandoned her without a second thought after his gustatory pleasures were satisfied, took hold of the infant and clutched the baby close to her bosom, tears cascading down her cheeks as she openly wept in the back alley. Gazing down at the product of her sin, the woman ran her bony fingers through the infant’s thick, golden curls. The child, now that it had been birthed, was the only thing keeping her to this world. She had nothing and she was nothing, just a tramp looking for love in all of the wrong places. With a racking sob, she stared lovingly at her child as she cried, the woman, barely old enough to be called one, opened her mouth and dubbed her child “Dior.” Just like the name suggested, Dior was golden and, just like gold, was considered to be a priceless treasure by her mother. However, little did the weeping maiden know, just like most priceless treasures, Dior would be stolen from her mother fifteen years later by a thief known as “The Hunger Games”.

The world of District Twelve was not a nice place to live. Of course, being one of twelve Districts essentially enslaved by an overwhelming force known as the Capitol is not the most grand option for living, but, when it comes to District Twelve, grand living doesn’t exist in any way, shape, or form. Unlike most other Districts, which had small pockets of wealth, Twelve consisted of the dead, the dying, and the soon to die. There was a small group of people, merchants, business owners, etc., who were considered “wealthy”, but the fact of the matter was that they, in comparison to other Districts, were still the lower class. It was in the slums, the places where deadbeats resided, that Dior grew up in. It was also in these wretched slums that Dior learned to loathe, with severe intensity, District Twelve in its entirety.

In a tiny shack, barely big enough to hold one person, let alone two, Dior and her mother, Bridget Bradt, “lived”. Bridget, being a single mother, worked herself to death every day to support herself and Dior. She balanced a myriad of jobs and, when Dior was old enough (about ten years old) she forced her to get a job as, basically, a mail girl. She delivered messages, written or verbal, packages, and other menial things that people needed to be delivered throughout the District. She once delivered a message from a wife to her husband, telling him that she was leaving him and not to come looking for her. Another time, she delivered “an important parcel” to the mayor from the local baker. The mayor ended up loving his little box of raspberries.

Due to her job, Dior knew many people and knew her way around the District quite well. During her deliveries, people would sometimes wave at her, others would just give her a nod of their had, and, sometimes, the other kids/teenagers that lived in extreme poverty would taunt her, calling her the rich girl with the golden hair. Many of select families that lived slightly better lives than the vast majority of the District possessed a form of blonde hair, whether it be as dirty as the District itself or pure and golden as, well, Dior. Since a majority of them were blonde, everyone simply started assuming that if someone was blonde, they were rich. It didn’t help the fact that the District Escort was blonde, too, so everyone associated being blonde with the Capitol, as well. For those that didn’t know her, the teasing was only minimal, but for those that lived in the slums and knew her and where she belonged, they teased her mercilessly.

“Oi, blondie? Who’d you have to fuck to get that hair dye?”

“Blondie, blondie! Why don’t you just go off yourself? You don’t belong here…”

“You’ll never amount to anything, bitch. You’re just like us, no matter how hard you try to change that.”

Of course, Dior never dyed her hair, nor had she ever had sex or done anything promiscuous of the sort before. However, the other mean things they said to her, about her, and behind her back, were pretty much true. She hated it in Twelve. She wanted to be more than what District Twelve could provide. She didn’t want to belong in Twelve. Part of the reason why she hated it in Twelve so much was because of her mother. She loved her mother, in fact, she was her closest friend, but many of the slum residents knew of her mother’s shady past. After all, many of the men, were, well… her clients, so to say. They teased Dior because of that, too. They called her mean things like “the prom night dumpster baby” or, Dior’s personal least favorite “daddyless little girl”.

The topic of Dior’s father was a rather sore one in the Bradt household. During the beginning, Dior didn’t really know or care about the absence of her father. However, when she got older and started going to school and noticed that most people had fathers who loved them, hugged them when they were hurt, and cared for them the way a father should, she started wondering where hers was. When she asked her mother, at age 11, where her father was, her mother froze up and, almost as if she had been waiting for this moment for years, answered robotically: “He died in a coal mining accident before you were born.”

As one can imagine, the news was devastating to Dior. The fact that she would never know her father’s embrace, his comforting words, his advice, or even his love sunk in over time. She was bitter, extremely much so, that her mother had not told her this was when she was younger. She was pissed that she would never know her father, and she was also bitter that she, unlike many others, didn’t have one. More than anything, though, Dior’s hatred for District Twelve solidified at that moment. It wasn’t her fault that her father was gone, it wasn’t anybody else’s, not even her mother, it was the coal mines. It was District Twelve.

Dior and her mother, from that point on, fought on an almost regular basis. For some reason, Bridget seemed more on edge than usual, perhaps because of the stress of her jobs, and Dior was on edge because of her hatred for the District as well as her longing for a father. Years past, and, eventually, during a rather dramatic fight involving Dior losing a parcel and Bridget reprimanding her, everything changed. At one point, while tears flooded down her face, Dior accidentally knocked over her mother’s “jewelry box” (if one could even call it that, for the only thing Bridget put in it was a single pair of earrings with two small, fake pearls on them) and the contents of the box spilled out. Out came her mother’s earrings along with a old, wrinkled piece of paper. Dior, confused due to never seeing her mother put anything else in that box other than earrings, stared at the paper curiously. When her mother saw what had happened, she let out a yelp and dove for the paper… but Dior was faster. Snatching it up, she ran quickly opened it and gazed at the face of the man drawn on the page. It was a face she recognized, a face she had seen every year for just about fifteen years: Stefan Dupuis, District Twelve’s very own Escort.

At first, she was confused, but in the minute long silence that followed when Dior picked up the sketch, everything started to make sense. Why her hair was the color it was, why her mother never wanted to talk about The Hunger Games, why her mother always stared, sometimes with a look of longing, other times with a look of pure disgust at Stefan Dupuis when he came to Twelve, and why her mother never wanted to talk about Dior’s father. It was him, it was always him. Her father was none other than Twelve’s Escort. The silence, involving Dior staring, teary eyed, at the paper and Bridget, also teary eyed, trying to get her daughter’s attention, ended abruptly with Dior sliding the drawing of her father into her shirt and, in a fit of rage, started screaming at her mother.

“All these years!? All these years you’ve lied to me?! Why?! I thought he was dead… you told me he was dead! Not only is my father alive, but he’s the District Escort?! I’ve seen him so many times and I didn’t even know it. Mom, how could- how could you do this to me?! How could you be so selfish?!…”

The blaming turned into screaming, and the screaming turned into a full on argument from both parties. Daughter screamed at mother, mother screamed at daughter, and tears were shed. Eventually, Dior fled the house, running away into the night while her mother beckoned her back from the inside of their pathetic little home. Dior ended up staying at a friend’s house for the night and, as she lay her head down for sleep, her brain spun ‘round and ‘round, contemplating the events of the day and processing everything. Above all else, one thing danced around in her head: she had to see her father… she had to meet him face to face… and she knew exactly how she was going to do it.

A month or so later, the dreaded Reaping came knocking on the District’s door. All of Twelve gathered in the District Square, ready to see which two unlucky brats would die this year. Dior, being one of them, stood with the rest of the fifteen year old girls. That morning, she ran out the door as fast as she could, not even bothering to wait for her mother to return home from her night shift. She hadn’t spoken to her since the incident, and she wasn’t about to start now. She had betrayed her, and that was that.

When Stefan Dupuis walked on stage, Dior’s heart skipped a beat. There he was, her father, and he had no idea that she was there or that she even existed, for that matter. Well, that was all about to change. Dipping his hand into the two oversized bowls, the well-dressed man read the names aloud in quick succession.

“Without further ado, your tributes are… Mackenzie Simpson and Jebediah Jackson! Congratulations, the both of you.”

Then, with a voice that cut through the following silence, Dior shouted: “I volunteer as tribute!”

Bridget, upon hearing her daughter’s voice, nearly collapsed to the ground. Frantically, she looked around, spotting her daughter calmly making her way to the stage. She then looked around at the men and women besides her. Why weren’t they surprised? Dior was well liked… many of her friends and people she knew loved Dior. More importantly, she had her: her mother. So, why did she do it?

The answer was simple and known only to Dior: she wanted to meet her father. She also wanted to spite her mother who had hidden such a huge piece of her life from her. Of course, she would die, but that was a small price to pay for getting to spend time with her dad, the person she most wanted to meet since she was little.

Dior and Jebediah looked like polar opposites standing atop the stage. Dior appeared to belong to wealth while Jebediah was very obviously part of the deepest part of the slums. He was known as a thief around those, constantly stealing things for years and never paying any of it back. When they were ushered into the Town Hall, Dior tried to find her father, but he was nowhere to be seen. After asking around, Dior learned that he had gone straight to the train. So, after alerting the peacekeepers that she didn’t want to say goodbye to anyone (especially her mother) she boarded the train, the second chapter of her life beginning with the sight of a train fit for a king and a man sipping a cocktail, not a care in the world.

That night, after dinner, Dior followed her father back to his room. When he noticed that she was there, he looked at her quizzically, asking with his gaze what she was doing there. Taking a big, big gulp of air and closing her eyes, Dior announced to the man she barely knew that she was his daughter. Of course, he obviously didn’t believe her, but after she told him the name of her mother, his skin became pale and his eyes bulged out of his head. He collapsed to the chair behind him, his head buried deep in his hands. If word of his having a secret affair based daughter got out, his career and his reputation would be ruined. Not only was he the Escort of Twelve, something he did to get more appeal, he was a successful businessman. He had money, lots of it, and countless people working for and under him. He wasn’t about to let that all go to waste because some bastard child decided she wanted to come forward…

But, then, at that moment, he got an idea…

Getting up, he walked over to Dior and wrapped her in a hug, catching her off guard. Taking his hand, he rubbed her back slowly, just like a father would when comforting his child. With a deep sigh, he carefully pushed her away from him so he could get a good look at her. Dior watched, mouth slightly agape, as Stefan St.– her father, told her just how happy he was to see her, to know that she existed, basically. He told her he hadn’t known, but that if he had, he would have done something about it. All the things she had been waiting to hear for years and years were being said to her and she just couldn’t contain herself. She broke down, crying, and rushed to hug her father again. She was so busy while she sobbed that she didn’t even realize her father looked disgusted at the fact that a random girl was getting his expensive new suit wet with her dirty tears.

From that point on, everything seemed like a blur to Dior. When they arrived at the Capitol, she was bombarded with a flurry of cries and applause, celebrating her and her arrival. She couldn’t help but smile as she walked from the train to the main building, waving at everyone who waved at her and even blowing a kiss to a few. She was happy, more happy than she had been in a long time. She had a father now, a father who cared about her and loved her, and she was away from District Twelve. She was being treated like an actual human being - more than just a human being, in fact - she was being treated like a celebrity and she loved every second of it.

Dior quickly rose to prominence during the pre-arena portion of the Hunger Games. She was a beautiful, young, was sweet, kind, and seemed only to glow brighter as time passed. The Capitol citizens loved her and, soon, she became one of the fan favorites, even outshining most of the careers. The fact that she, a outlier, seemed to appreciate the Capitol was well as its culture (she didn’t, really, but it was much better than District Twelve, and it was all she wanted, so she liked it because of that) greatly influenced her appeal value, too. She was something that the Capitol had yet to see in a tribute, and at a time where the games were hyped up to the max, that mattered more than anything.

Everything had gone well, the introduction, the parades, even private training didn’t go as bad as it could have (Dior scored a seven), but it was the interview that pushed her popularity over the edge and into an entirely new plane of existence. The night before, while she was in the shower, Stefan Dupuis heard her singing. It wasn’t much, not a full song, but it was enough to grasp her father’s attention. When she finished and walked out for dinner, her father ambushed her, wrapped his arm around her and gave her a big smile.

“Kiddo, I didn’t know you had such an amazing voice! I mean, really, your voice is almost angelic. It’s better than practically all of the Capitol grown songstresses, that’s for sure. You should use that, you know, in your interview. Give ‘em a little song, a little tune, something. They’ll eat it up, I’m sure of it. Also… I have another idea…”

So, when the time for the interview came ‘round, Dior was ready. She walked out onto the stage, adorned in a gold dress that matched the color of her hair. She was glowing like a star, thanks to some special makeup from her prep team, and she felt like a star, too. As the interview progressed, the Capitol started to love Dior even more than they could have possibly imagined. She was just so charming, so sweet, and, well, everything they wanted. However, it was towards the end that really cinched Dior’s place as the fan favorite of the year.

“Before I end, I’d like to make an announcement, if you don’t mind?”

“Why, of course not, doll, go ahead!”

“Well, you see, my father is here! He came here with me… and he’s right over there!”

Gasps filled the room as Dior pointed to her father, who had, by this point, stood up, bowed, gave a thumbs up to Dior, and then proceeded to sit back down as he waved to some people who screamed in admiration for him. Everything was going according to plan.

“Stefan Dupuis is your father?! Why, that’s astounding! Incredible! Absolutely fantastic!”

“I know! I… I had never had a father before, but now I do! It’s been hard… but now I have him, and I don’t plan on missing out on any more time away from him. Actually, I don’t know if you all know, but today is his birthday! So… if it’s okay… I’d like to sing him happy birthday for all of you!”

And so, Dior began to sing. The moment she opened her mouth, she had sealed her fate. It was as if the entire Capitol grew silent in order to hear the angelic beauty sing for her dear father. When she had finished, a gargantuan applause erupted for Dior and it took a few minutes to calm everyone down to proceed with the final interview, but it didn’t really matter. Dior had stolen the heart of just about everyone in the Capitol.

When it came time to go into the arena, Dior was extremely nervous and scared for her life. In the back of her mind, she knew that she would never emerge as victor. It just wasn’t probable, and she knew that, but what she wanted to do was make her father proud. She wanted to show him that she wasn’t useless, that she is a daughter worth being proud of. These thoughts didn’t completely stop her from shaking as she rose into the arena, but it helped her a little bit. Suddenly, with a flash of bright light, she was there, in the arena, and the third chapter of her life had just begun.

The arena was a giant maze. The walls consisted of varying materials, such as brick, stone, grass/leaves/ clay, etc. The bloodbath was situated within the very center of the labyrinth with the golden cornucopia gleaming and full with deadly weapons and life saving food and tools. Dior ignored all of what was in and around the cornucopia because her father had told her that she wouldn’t need it. He told her that nearly everyone in the Capitol would sponsor her. While she trusted her father and believed in him, something nagged at her, telling her that she needed to get something, anything, from the bloodbath. What if she was attacked before she could get anything from sponsors? As the countdown came to an end and Dior was faced with the decision to fight or run, she made the decision to get something despite better judgement.

As fast as she could, she ran for the one thing that she had taken an interest in: a dull, golden shield with a large spike in the center. She ran as fast as her legs could take her. Fortunately for her, she made it to the shield, but, unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. A girl, about the same age as her, from District Five, tears brimming in her eyes, grabbed the shield at the same time. Screaming for her life, the girl from Five, in a panic for she did not see Dior at first, loosened her grip on the shield for a brief moment. However, that moment was all Dior needed to rip the shield from her and slam the spike into the girl’s leg, causing her to fall to the ground. Knowing that she could have died just then, Dior, gripping the shield close to her, sprinted away from the golden horn, taking one of the many exits into the labyrinth. Right before she was gone, she turned to see the girl from Four ending the life of the one from Five, a sadistic smile on her face. Paralyzed by fear, Dior watched as the girl yanked out the sword, spotted Dior, locked eyes with her, and then licked the blood off the blade all while maintaining eye contact with Dior. With that, Dior turned around and ran away, hoping she would never see her again.

Over the next week, Dior and the rest of the tributes experienced a medley of torture spawning directly from the labyrinth. It seemed that around nearly every corner there was a mutt, a challenge, a hallucination, or a tribute to overcome. The maze was changing constantly, causing intense confusion amongst the tributes. Tensions were running high, especially since, with each passing day, the maze got smaller and smaller. Eventually, by day six, eighteen of the tributes had died and only six remained. Of the remaining tributes, one was Dior.

Her father had kept his word and, after day one, Dior had been blessed with numerous sponsor gifts, some that were so rare and so expensive that many wondered if they were even allowed to be used as sponsor gift. For example, of the gifts she received, one of them was four bombs, all of which were activated by a remote that emitted a high pitched, whistle like sound. Due to her sponsors, most of Dior’s time in the arena was spent in leisure compared to the other tributes. This, however, came to an end on day seven.

That morning, Dior, who had slept up against the wall, surrounded by her treasure trove, was awoken by two tributes: the malicious girl from Four and the boy from Seven. She started to scream, but was quickly silenced by the girl screaming back at her.

“Shut up, bitch! God… “

“Should we just kill her now and get it over with?”

“No… I wanna watch her squirm. It’s her fault we haven’t gotten anything from sponsors. Just look at all this shit. They sent it all to her ‘cause she’s special or whatever. I don’t buy it. Listen, Blondie, you’re done–”

Before she could finish her rant, Dior had gotten up and rushed her, hoping to catch her off guard. Unfortunately, the boy from Seven intercepted her and put her in a headlock, knocking the shield away from her in the process. In a panic, Dior tried to reach inside her sleeve and pull out one of the hidden knives she had been gifted, but the other girl saw through her and yanked it away from her, holding it to Dior’s throat while her partner held her down. At this point, Dior started crying, for she knew that her time was up. She had made it so far… but it didn’t matter. She was about to die.

“Once you’re out of the way, blondie, all that’s left is those three career’s. With all your shit, we can take ‘em, no problem. They’ll be easy pickings–”

Just then, a cannon sounded in the distance, indicating that someone had died. At the same time, almost as if it was caused by the cannon, the walls around them started to collapse. Large chunks of rock flew everywhere including on the three tributes. Dior was pounded, but all she got was a few cuts and bruises and sprained a leg. As for the pair from Four and Seven, they were unlucky and got trapped underneath a large chunk of the wall. Dior, gasping for breath, eyes, wide, grabbed the hidden knife from the girl’s hands and looked down at the two who had, up until this point, had her cornered. They were struggling, trying their best to get away and survive, but they wouldn’t. With shaking hands, Dior took the knife and plunged it into the boys throat, dragging it across in a bloody smile.

Another cannon.

The girl started screaming, throwing all sorts of curses and foul words at Dior. She, too, was silenced by Dior right after she called Dior “daddy’s little bitch”. Another cannon sounded off and, just like that, there were only three tributes left. As she did her best to calm herself down and check her minor injuries, Dior gathered what was left of her sponsor gifts and went on her way, watching as the arena seemed to fall apart. The Games were coming to a close. Soon, a victor would be crowned.

Later that day, as the sun began to slowly set, the three remaining tributes found themselves back where they had started: the center field where the bloodbath had started. The rest of the labyrinth and all of its tricks had been destroyed, leaving only the field and the three tributes. Dior, the boy from Two, and the girl from One were all that remained. As they entered the field (Dior putting on a front so as to make the Career’s think she wasn’t afraid of them) something… unexpected happened. The boy from Two gripped his sword and slammed it into the side of his partner, much to Dior, the girl, and the whole of Panem’s surprise. She died almost instantly, for the boy had pulled it out and slammed it into her heart, next. Now, there were only two.

When the final battle started, Dior did her best, but it was futile compared to the overall skill of the boy from Two. He was big, tall, and he was specifically trained for this. As he charged her, Dior tried her best to evade and counterattack. Unfortunately for her, her counterattack consisted of dodging attacks, blocking them with her shield, and then trying to throw things at the boy, Jason, so as to injure him from afar. She had just thrown her last throwing knife and was reaching into her pocket when she realized that she still had three of her mini-bombs. The remote to detonate them – which worked by emitting a high-pitched frequency – was still there, too. With a shaky smile, she quickly took two of the bombs and threw them at the ground around Jason’s feet. He stopped, confused as to what she had thrown, but his eyes widened when he looked up and saw her attempting to take the remote out of her pocket. Reaching down, he grabbed one of the throwing knives that Dior had thrown and launched it at her hand. His aim was excellent and the knife penetrated her hand, causing her to drop the remote and scream in agony. Before she could react, Jason had closed the distance between the two tributes. It was over.

In a matter of minutes, Dior was in a similar place to where she was hours ago: the boy had placed her in a headlock and had his sword pressed into her side, ready to end it all. Looking to her left, Dior saw the remote to detonate the bombs broken on the ground. A sob escaped her lips. It was all over for her. This was the end.

“Man, this must be pretty sad for you, huh, princess? You got so far and now you’re gonna die, just like that. Sucks, don’t it?”

“…Fuck you.”

“Aww.. now that ain’t nice!” Jason said with clenched teeth. Slowly, he started to press his sword into Dior’s side, slowly penetrating her and drawing blood. She started to scream, but couldn’t quite finish before Jason started talking again.

“Any last words, princess? After all, I wanna give everyone a nice, bloody show of me tearing you limb from limb.”

Dior started to open her mouth, prepared to give her father one last message before her death, but, just before she did, one of the bombs that she had thrown at Jason went off.

“What?! How di–”

Even though she was shocked, confused, and in severe pain, Dior knew that this might be her only chance to win. Using the convenient distraction, she turned and kicked Jason right in the genitals, causing him to double over. She glanced to her side, looking for anything that could help her. Everything was either broken (like her remote) or too far away for her to get to it in time. Just then, she remembered that she still had a bomb in her pocket. Reaching for it, she took it out, looked at it, and, in a moment of sheer desperation, got one final idea.

Running up to Jason, she kicked him in the crotch once more, causing him to double over again. Before he could hit the ground, Dior grabbed his face and shoved the miniature bomb into his throat. In the process, he bit down hard on her arm, causing previous cuts to burst open and for Dior to wince in pain, but she didn’t stop. After she thrust it inside his mouth, the girl from Twelve pushed him away from her as far as she could and, opening her mouth, let out a noise that could only be described as a high pitched whistle. Her vocal range was so high that she could hit such notes. It was a talent she had that she used to amuse herself and others back home. Now, however, it was her final saving grace. If this didn’t work, she was doomed…

…and it worked.

After a few seconds of using her whistle register, Dior was blown back as the bomb in Jason detonated and he exploded. She couldn’t hear anything, nor could she feel anything at that moment, but she stared into the heavens, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide with tears falling from them. She was alive. She had won. Somehow… she had won.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the winner of this year’s Hunger Games, the winner of the 54th annual Hunger Games, Dior Bradt!”

After her victory, all of the Capitol rejoiced for a new Victor had been crowned. However, not everything was all rainbows and sunshine. The moment she was crowned as Victor at the post-game interview, riots sparked in the Districts. Many people, specifically the family and friends of the people Dior killed in the arena, claimed that the relation of Dior and her father, who was an influential Capitol figurehead, caused certain events of the games, such as the walls randomly breaking, trapping the two from Seven and Four, the first bomb randomly going off, allowing Dior to claim victory, to be swayed in her favor. These riots were immediately suppressed by the Capitol and its military forces and the riots were soon subject to Panem lore and legend. However, the memory belonging to those directly involved still remained.

As for Dior, after the Games, she returned home to Twelve for a short period of time. When she arrived, everyone showered her in praise and joy. Due to her winning, Twelve had once again been awarded. Some would argue that the surge of food and gifts allowed for District Twelve to remain standing. Without it, many of its inhabitants would have starved to death. They hailed her as a hero much to Dior’s amusement. However, Dior was only concerned with one thing: fetching her mother.

Her mother wasn’t there to greet her, so she figured that she was still mad at her for leaving. When she arrived at the shack they used to share, Dior was greeted with a scene straight from her nightmares. There, in the middle of the room was her mother dangling from a rope. She had hung herself… she was dead. Dior only stopped screaming and crying when peacekeepers heard her wails and came to see what was wrong. Upon seeing what had happened, Dior was ushered away to keep from harming herself or others. Walking into the building, she saw her father there, a frown on his face. She ran into his arms, sobbing harder than ever. He embraced her, rubbing her back. He had been informed of what happened by other peacekeepers. Taking his daughter by the hand, he told her of what was to happen now. He told her that he had adopted her and that she would be living in the Capitol with him. Effective immediately, they were to go on the Victory Tour (due in part to large demand for Dior from the Capitol citizens) and, after it was over, they would stay in the Capitol. With a small smile and a nod, Dior hugged her father, burying her face into the crook in his neck, openly weeping at the loss of her mother.

For Dior, the start of a new chapter had begun. With the death of her mother came a new life shared with her father. Once the Victory Tour had ended, the pair settled down in the Capitol, as promised, and Dior began a new life. Not even a month after the Tour ended, people were lining up at Dior’s home, asking and pleading her to sing for them. They wanted to hear the voice that had not only won their hearts, but had won her the Hunger Games. She obliged and, before she knew it, a few months later, she was performing for audiences of thousands upon thousands of people. She had, in essence, become the Capitol’s Superstar. To this day, Dior continues to sing for all, gracing the Capitol and, sometimes, on certain holidays or events, and before and after every game to sing the Capitol anthem, she sings for the District’s, too.

She now has all that she ever wanted. Fame, glory, comfort, and, most importantly, her father and freedom from District Twelve. All of her wildest dreams had come true…

… but was she really happy?

PLAYED BY // OSWALD

#dior #accepted

5 notes · View notes

thekatthatbarks · 7 years

Note

What's your opinion on the Naruto Ending?

Hello nonnie!

Weeellll, I am pretty anti-ending and anti-Boruto (though I try not to put that much negativity on my blog for those of you who do like it). I do not fault anyone for liking it or enjoying the new series. Yall do yall, boos!

This is going to be long, but I’ve been thinking about it lately and just want to put out my take on it. But this is my feelings on it...

Before I even get into Naruto, specifically, let’s just talk about this type of epilogue. I just have this thing where I don’t really like epilogues in a sort of way? Like because it’s always this cookie-cutter ending and it’s so heternormative and traditional. I find it rather boring and in all honesty disappointing. And it’s not even just Naruto that is at fault for this, I see it everywhere. I think it’s just because like everyone is supposed to have this happy ending where you get married, have 2.5 kids, nice house, and a respectable job that you probably don’t enjoy (from what I can tell). But no one ever takes into account that that isn’t everyone’s happy ending. There is absolutely no fault for people who do want that. To each their own. But when you see it everywhere, it’s almost like that’s the way it has to be. You know? Like you’re supposed to want that and you’re supposed to get that and if you don’t, then your life is unsatisfactory. No one says this (or maybe they do, like your judgmental aunt at Christmas asking when you’re going to get married and have kids) but it’s implied. It’s in so many stories/movies/shows that we’ve all seen growing up and when there’s rarely a different type of happy ending, it feels like there is no other way to feel full-filled. Which is not true.

The trouble with these kind of endings is that it’s not even just the main character, it’s all the characters. Naruto is very guilty of this. A majority of the Rookie Nine from what we’ve seen got married to childhood crushes (I’ll touch on that in a min) and had children all at the same time. Which is honestly pretty inaccurate? Like did all the women make a pregnancy pact or something? What are the chances everyone had children at the same exact fucking time to where they’re all the same age. Like I’m in my twenties and Ig it becomes more apparent when you get older, but you’re most likely not gonna have children at the same time as your best friends. Yes, the kids can still be friends, but they will probably be a couple to a few years apart. Also, if you look at the time line, this means everyone got married just a bit after turning 18 and instantly popped out babies. Which adds to this pressure that we see in a lot of places, at least for women, that you need to marry young and have children right away. Then, it seems like all the wives just stopped being ninja to be stay at home moms (WHICH IS TOTALLY COOL BTW). So, the women had to give up their careers in order to be mothers, which is ridiculous. While maybe this fits certain characters’ personalities, such as Hinata (imo), it doesn’t fit the others, particularly Sakura who had always strove to be the best she could be as a shinobi without much care to other things. It was a very big part of her character development, her independence and strength she accomplished through hard work. She found something she was proud of and didn’t stop, continuing to push herself to even levels beyond the Godaime. That she just gives it all up to be a mother is a stab to her character development. Because she certainly did not have to give it up. She could have done both. And seeing that none of the mothers tried to do both shows that they couldn’t, which is bullshit. Also, that none of the fathers retired to be stay at home at dads is so gender stereotyping and it pisses me off.

I’m going to ignore shipping and all that, cuz honestly I don’t want to bother. But let’s just talk about this thing where it’s a happily ever after because you marry someone you had a crush on when you were five. While this is seen as romantic and the best thing that could happen, it doesn’t really happen in real life? Like of course there’s going to be exceptions and that is beautiful you know, like that’s pretty cool. It does not happen that often. This is also something that you seen a lot in media, that you marry the person you’d always been pining for. I get that this is shounen and not really all about romance (but Kishimoto decided to put romance in anyway even though he obviously had no fucking clue how to write it) but that way of thinking is a bit naive. It also puts this pressure on young people that you should have already found your “soulmate” at an early age (maybe not five, but come on, twenty is also pretty young t expect that). Let’s look at this at a romance pov just for the sake of the argument and if you know me or my writing, I love romance and am pretty well versed in it js. Everyone married their first love pretty much or the first person they dated (in Naruto and Ino’s case) and it was a happily ever after. Like no, you don’t always marry your first love, your first relationship does not always end up in a marriage. Again, I’m not saying this doesn’t happen, but the fact that he made it happen with every character is silly. This also shows that there is no such thing as moving on from someone. Sakura didn’t move on from Sasuke and Hinata didn’t move on from Naruto. There was no way, apparently, that these women could move on from their childhood crushes and find love in a different place and a little more realistically. Also, there was this half-ass attempt at showing how these relationships came about (i.e. The Last) so all we see is that that person you thought was cute when you were five is still the same person at eighteen. Which is not true. A lot of people change growing up, we learn and see different things, and figure out who we are as people. When someone has figured out who they are and what they’re about, that is when you should get to know them and fall for them. The basis for these relationships have pretty flimsy foundations and Kishimoto doesn’t give us much else to more solidify these relationships besides children. This isn’t even about whether you ship them or not, but that if he was going to show us these relationships then he should have developed them or not done it at all.

Now let’s talk about the biggest reason I am anti-ending and anti-Boruto. Naruto himself being soooo OOC.

Naruto is obviously very unhappy in the ending and in Boruto and it seriously makes me very depressed. He was the main character and such a positive never give up kind of guy. But we don’t see this in the ending. Certainly one of the biggest parts of his character was that he wanted to be Hokage. He finally accomplishes his dream and he’s not even excited about it and even misses the inauguration (to my understanding). And that’s seriously like wtf???? Like nah, fuck that, he would be so fucking happy because this is what he had always working hard for, he has finally proven himself and the whole village loves him. He made it. But Kishimoto doesn’t give us that and it breaks my heart.

Another thing is how he is with his family which is also sooo OOC. He’s depicted as an absent father and husband. The boy who grew up without a family and always wanted a home. Someone who’s entire character revolves around love. Yet, he doesn’t spend time with his children. He doesn’t want to go home. His son hates him because he’s never around. He doesn’t seem to be affectionate with his children at all, just like he’s acting a part and that’s it. Well, that is like so not how he would be. Like are you kidding me?? Naruto would loooove his family, he finally has one. He’d love them more than his job, more than anything. Naruto would be ecstatic to have family. He never had one. He grew up alone feeling ignored and neglected by his village. You think he would just let his children feel the same way? By their own father? Fuck no. He’d make sure they never felt the way he did. He’d be there. Naruto would be a fucking loving father (fucking fight me if you think otherwise) and that Kishimoto made him a deadbeat dad is the worst thing he ever did with the ending imo.

Naruto meant a lot to me growing up. He stood for so many things that got me through some tough times. He fought to be the best he could be. Even when he was a “loser”, he still tried and didn’t let anyone tell him he’d never be anything. He never gave up when things were hard and it seemed like nothing was going to go right. He just kept working hard and doing what he could. He aimed for the highest he could and he fucking got it. Like that is some inspirational shit, my dude. He was kind to people who had been awful to him. He was forgiving and helped complete strangers without the blink of an eye. He made his own family when he didn’t have one. He went from being ignored and completely alone to making friends and having everyone see him. That meant so much to me. Kishimoto butchered his character in the ending. He ruined him and gave him a shitty life. So, I’ll never be pro-ending or pro-Boruto for that matter.

Naruto’s not even the only one who’s been made OOC and I don’t want to bother reading/watching something where the creators don’t even seem to know their own characters.

This was so long, deary, I apologize for my rambling. But thank you for giving me the opportunity to put my thoughts into words.

Thank you for the ask, nonnie! I hope you have a good day!

#anti-ending #anti-Boruto #Anonymous

71 notes · View notes

conepines · 7 years

Text

On motherhood, sexuality, and Christians...

A friend of mine just shared this article in a closed group and I am so grateful that things like that are being written at all. Let me talk a second about my ideas about motherhood.

I was always raised being spoken to about my future husband and future children. It was assumed of me and probably every woman, especially in the church. My parents did not grow up religious though their parents identify as vaguely religious (muslims and catholics but like they eat pork and don’t go to mass or anything, it’s just an internally held belief system I guess). My dad converted to christianity and began serving at a church as a youth group leader. My mom became a christian after drunkenly asking my father what it means to be born again. When they got married, my mom had been a christian for like....not a lot of time. So she was thrust into the church sphere with very little independence in her spiritual identity. This is my take on it anyway, having not existed and all. Take it with a grain of salt.

Then they had me. They got married in July of 1990 and had me in August of 1991. My mom went from being a non religious single woman to being a christian mother in very little time. Her entire worldview was new. My father is a humble and respectful person, so learning biblical principles for the home like husbands love your wives as christ loves the church / women submit to your husbands as unto the Lord was not a terrifying proposal. Ideally, this adds up to two selfless people making sacrifices for and trusting eachother. My mother respects my father as the “head of the household” but truthfully they do operate as a team and he never exercises authority in a way that implies her desires and ideas are lesser. This is like....just really not often the case in other christian marriages. So while I was raised with these ideas, I couldn’t help but notice the way they are abused by others. Spousal abuse justified with that passage is sickening. But I digress.

The point is, my mother entered into a new sphere of reality and everything made sense for her. So raising me was very idealistic for her. Here was a pure, new being and a chance to show her the way life was truly supposed to work, and unlike my mother, she (me) wouldn’t have to go through 20 years of confusion and pain and existential dread before finally finding the truth. No, she would grow up loving Jesus and one day be a wife to a masculine, gentle leadership oriented husband and have her own godly children and slowly improve the world with the grace and humility of a wholesome family unswayed by the world.

Now...being raised this way, I didn’t think twice about the fact that I would be a wife and mother someday. I even opted to go to Bible college once I graduated high school because, literally this is what I would say, “I don’t want to invest into a career for myself because what will the point be when I get married and have a family and then don’t have time for the career anymore?” Which is logical if my heart’s desire was actually to be a wife and mother, but the truth is that I had zero other options. I was always told I could do and be whatever I wanted, but when it boiled down to logistics anything I did towards a goal that wasn’t ministry was heavily discouraged. When I was younger I used to say that I had a feeling I was going to marry a pastor. I knew what to expect from it from growing up with it and it just seemed like the right thing to do because nothing else matters. It makes sense that I would think that, since it’s all I knew. And my parents kind of took that as gospel. I had to marry someone in ministry, because that’s the right thing to do.

Once I graduated bible college with an associates degree in literally nothing, I was still single and returned home to work at starbucks. I had breakdowns every once in awhile after about a year went by because I had no prospects of a future. I had no path. I had no plan. What the hell was I doing? Waiting for someone to marry me? I was starting to hang out with more young married people, and my friends were getting married. The allure was GONE. Marriage didn’t seem like the dreamscape it had seemed like in the past. I was seeing young men who grew up being told wives submit to their husbands, and don’t watch porn for the love of God don’t masturbate just wait for your wife...and men whose mothers did everything for them because they were doting so heavily over their perfect little man. These men get married with no skills to take care of themselves and a boatload of sexual repression that they’ve been anxiously awaiting a wife whose duty it is to take care of it. They’ve been taught that their sexuality is of such high importance that a wife who refuses to sleep with them is being sinful. Hell, women are taught that too. I was taught that when you are married, your body belongs to your spouse and theirs to you. I understand this scripture, again, to imply selflessness rather than dominion. But hell if that matters to young christian men. Because when you repress sexuality, things get ugly. You can tell them not to watch porn, but they’re going to especially if you’ve quarantined it as some super secret thing and added the allure of forbidden fruit. Why not instead teach men (and women???) the way that porn affects the brain on a neural level by training it to respond only to supernormal stimuli, and the ways that can lead to erectile disfunction or inability to become aroused when you are with a real life partner? Wouldn’t having realistic information about sexuality be helpful for literally everybody involved?

I started to realize that marriage for its own sake was just not worth it. Growing up in a culture that assumes marriage is imminent and builds its entire framework of reality around in-home dynamics...was a weird place to decide I didn’t care about marriage. When people told me that I would make a great wife someday it literally offended me. I was horribly depressed living at home and a woman at my church told me she was praying for my future husband and I asked her if she could just pray for me, like about myself and my present tense, because I was miserable and didn’t care about men.

When I decided to pursue a career in education, it was because it was a career path I knew I could handle and would be welcomed into as a woman, but also because I needed a goal that wasn’t wifery and motherhood. An identity in that became increasingly bleak. Not because I was single, but because I was watching others go through it and be incredibly disappointed and it horrified me to watch people committing to lifetime agreements and slowly becoming disenchanted with life. Pregnancy and engagement announcements made me anxious instead of excited. That was definitely me projecting. I remember saying to my co-worker James that I wanted to have a career path underway before I accidentally get married and ruin it. That’s an insane statement, as he pointed out, and I can hear it hahaha but I knew if it happened it was going to screw everything up because suddenly I’d be a slave to someone else’s goals. How long did I have to be my own person? Had I even ever been?

When I gave up on my plan to move to Oregon and study Early Childhood Education, I moved to Maine instead and worked on a farm with a woman who was endlessly interesting, energetic, opinionated and big hearted. She was a Christian, but had too much life experience to be like my mom. We could talk about God and prayer and faith and church and scripture in a way that didn’t feel contrived and scripted. Like..you could go off script. You could say, “I don’t agree with that” or “i don’t understand that” or “that wasn’t my experience”. It didn’t mean our souls were in peril and there wasn’t an anxiety surrounding that. It was just freedom to speak about things in a realistic way. She never questioned my love for God and still commends me for never letting go of it. I don’t know what my life would be like now if I hadn’t met her.

One thing that sticks with me incredibly about her life experience...is her regret of motherhood. She loves her two sons more than she can even express, but the experience of sacrifice and pouring yourself out for someone else was expected of her and absolutely taken for granted. The fact that her children call her out of obligation on her birthday and Mother’s day sickens her so much that she dreads it. They were raised by a single mother who busted her ass after leaving their deadbeat father, working incredible hours to give them a good life with the added stressors of being a woman trying to make it alone. Trying to provide for a family by yourself is hard enough, and being a woman makes it worse. I don’t think her sons will ever understand her experience, and they don’t care because they are two successful men. When you’re a successful man, nothing in the entire world matters to you at all. Or so it seems.

Now I work at the newspaper with two other people close to my age, the rest are in their 50′s and up. They have children who are older than me and still live at home. They constantly talk about how exhausted they are by it. One of them has a daughter who got into a domestic violence incident with her childrens’ father and pulled a gun on him. My coworker was in the middle of it for months, helping get the kids to school and between the two parents so they wouldn’t break the restraining order against eachother. Another coworker moved in with her adult son after her husband died, and he pushed the bills onto her and quit his job. His son was running an electric space heater on the top floor and racked up a $300 electric bill that she had to pay. Another has a daughter who just cannot keep her head above water between high monthly costs of living and low paying jobs that she qualifies for. A common qualm. These people assumed that their children would have independence by 18, move out and make something of themselves in the world. What they didn’t account for is how much more unfair the world becomes by the day. Some of their kids literally cannot get the resources to change their circumstance. Some of them are just lazy. Some are sickeningly anxious and can’t fully detach without having an absolute meltdown, because the world is a madhouse. Parenthood never ends.

When I had a minor surgery and got the bill, I mentioned the cost to a friend of mine who had just had a baby and she told me about the cost of that. I had no idea how expensive it was. Just having a baby. Becoming pregnant. Costs thousands of dollars.

You get pregnant, you have a million doctor visits and ultrasounds...you work until you’re so uncomfortable you can hardly function but you can’t afford to stay home, then you have the kid and get maybe 6 weeks for your body to heal and arrange for day care since you can’t afford not to work and in most cases that’s around $40 a day. Having a child sounds like a punishment. Your body is destroyed. Your future belongs to someone else who won’t even notice. You’re never going to escape debt. And the older they get, the more it requires. They have to go to school by law, but school is ridiculously ineffective and fosters anxiety and violence. Not to mention it’s being severely underfunded and that’s only getting worse under our new administration. You’re set up to fail in every single way.

The only thing that would ever make this experience worth it....is truly wanting to be a mother. As I learned, even the genuine and endless love for your existing children does not outweigh the grief of not enjoying parenthood. Motherhood is an incredible experience for some, and they can weather the hardships because they have something that fulfills them. Others are not fulfilled and aren’t able to talk about it.

I understand, with the way I was raised, why having children and being a mother is so revered and anticipated and encouraged. But I do not want it. It is not practical for my life. I don’t want to have children. When people tell me, “oh, you’ll change your mind, i never wanted to have kids but look at me!”, I want to cry. I don’t care how your experience went. All I know is every time someone told me “do this thing or you’ll regret it”, they have been absolutely wrong. I wish it wasn’t assumed that every woman would love motherhood if given the chance to experience it. I literally feel guilty at the idea of pregnancy.

I could talk about this stuff forever but I have to pee really bad and Sean’s roommate just got in the shower and I have to go get my name change official’d up at the social security office so I should really get going. I just had a lot on my mind reading that article and thinking about the way I was conditioned to think about lifetime commitments like marriage and motherhood and I’m just really, really glad I didn’t get married super young (25 is still pretty young but I was ready to get married like in my teens) and start building the fake dream life I thought I was supposed to want, because realizing later that it’s not me would have been devastating to everyone involved.

#not pregnant plz don't worry #and for the love of god don't be excited if you ever find out i'm pregnant

1 note · View note

starktson · 4 years

Text

How I got on T at 17

How I got on hormones is a very unconventional story and absolutely hope no one has to go through what I went through. So this is more a warning story more than anything. Firstly, my mom after the initial “AH YOU’RE TRANS?!?!” year or so she has been my biggest supporter. I would not be here if it was not for her.

So at 16, my primary care physician referred me to a children’s endocrinologist about 2 hours away. I went to that appointment and I didn’t get on hormones. I don’t remember the appointment honestly. I remember taking a photo out the big window in the office and the really tight blood pressure cuff but that was about it. My mom at the time was still very wary of me going on hormones and I was really trying to more get on blockers because my “time of month” aka Tom, was horrid. I was scared to go on birth control because I did not want to put more female hormones in my body. I did end up going on birth control though because Tom was so bad.

After that endocrinologist appointment, I kind of just gave up and thought I wouldn’t get on hormones until I was 18. I had recently lost my insurance (thanks asshole of a father) so I was going to this healthcare clinic that had everything under the sun there. It had Adult Medicine, Pediatrics, Dentist, OBGYN, Pharmacy, Eyedoctor...etc. I went there for an eye exam because I needed new glasses. I sitting in an exam room with my mom and the nurse was asking just normal questions. We brought up I was trans because I went by a different name. My mom happens to ask if a doctor there dealt with trans people and the nurse said yes. So we made an appointment with Dr Jones.

I remember this day vividly, I was my final day of junior year and I was so excited. (Little did I know it would be hell for two years). My mom picked me up after school and we went to the clinic. I signed in and they called me back. We sat in the exam room for almost an hour without seeing anyone. Finally after my mom complained a nurse came in saying, “You’re still 17 so you need to go to pediatrics downstairs.” We explained we were here to see Dr Jones because he dealt with trans people. So we waited again in the exam room for another hour. Finally we had enough and went to complain to management. No one had been in to help us. As we were complaining, an awkward and tall man came in and apologized. So we went back and Dr Jones said that he would prescribe me hormones as long as I got a therapist’s letter. He gave me an organization about an hour away that could help with that. I am not even sure what he said but he wanted me to come back tomorrow to meet the pediatric guy downstairs because I guess he was “an ally.”

I came back the next day even though it still felt really weird and anxiety provoking. This man, Dr H was an extremely creepy man. He immediately started calling himself LGBT but then said he was not gay or anything just an ally. I honestly do not remember the timeline exactly because this whole thing was very traumatic but basically the organization that Dr Jones referred me to could not write me a letter and Dr H ended up becoming my therapist for 3 very uncomfortable and inappropriate sessions.

Upon hearing his last name, I immediately looked up Dr H. The last name was my stepmom and she was in social work too. Her last name come to find out was from her previous husband and Dr H were not related but they did know each other and were friends on Facebook. So the first time meeting him in his actual office for a therapy appointment, I went by myself and there was a weird lady there too. I do not remember why she was there but I remember her telling me before he came to his office that she was on Testosterone at one point for some reason and when she was “her clit got bigger. Did I want that to happen to me? That’s so weird hehehe”

First of all, what the actual fuck? I met you five minutes ago and you’re asking me about my genitals. I love how people think that is an appropriate question when finding out I am trans. Anywho, she left and Dr H and I talked asking normal questions and at the end I did bring up my stepmom. He just said “oh you’re *deadbeat dad’s name* kid” yeah sadly.He said he believed I was trans and would write me the letter. I shook his hand and his response was “your hands are so soft. to be a man you need callous’s. go rub your hand on some concrete.” and we left.

I saw him before my first appointment upstairs to get my prescription for T. Then the following week, the final appointment with Dr H, I saw him before my check up with Dr Jones upstairs. This is where shit hits the fan. My mom came with me because I was uncomfortable. He without my mom in the room yet, told me he had a crush on my stepmom and how she always called him for advice. (Found out later my stepmom hated him and he was not a very good doctor and in general just a creep). My mom came in the room and I was fuming from that. How do I react? She was saying how I thought it was weird my stepmom and him knew each other and he then tells her what he just told me. He then starts making up shit about how I don’t have any trans friends. I then I reminded him of my friend that I was jealous of at the time because he was younger than me and on hormones but I felt bad for him because his mom still called him his birth name. He then asks me “What’s his birth name?” Um IDK. He then tries to get me to tell him this other trans guys birth name. I honestly have no clue nor do I care. Dr H then tells me, “I don’t know you by your *chosen name* I see your chart under *birth name* and that’s your name.” My mom sees how upset I am starting to get and I finally break. I called him an asshole and how much he reminded of my abusive father. He got weirdly calm and asked me to step out so he could talk to my mom privately.

Do I think that was the appropriate response now? Probably not but if that hadn’t happened to me I would not be who I am today. I was just learning that I can fight for myself then and that’s what I was going to do. I was not going to be manipulated any more. He told my mom that I needed to apologize and set up an appointment for the following week. I told my mom I was not going to go to that appointment. We go upstairs for the check up appointment and we have to wait a stupid long time like always and we tell Dr Jones what happened because they are friends. He steps outside and we hear him flip a table outside. A nurse comes in and says he will be a few minutes. So he had a temper tantrum and when he came back said I did not have to see him anymore.

That is the Dr H story but the Dr Jones story is not much better. When I had to come back the next day to initially meet Dr H. He introduced me to another one of his patients, an older trans woman. Come to find out Dr Jones had only really ever dealt with older trans women and I was his first trans man. I am saying this very loudly YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE TO EDUCATE A DOCTOR ABOUT YOUR CONDITIONS!!! So here is a list of inappropriate things he did:

-Immediately after giving me my T prescription, “Now it’s time to get yourself a strap-on” (I had literally never had a conversation about literally anything with this man and he thinks I am sex crazed or something)

-His staff always would ask would I like a pap smear done every time I came into the office.

-The blood work lady would repeatedly sing my birth name because it was pretty and every time I tried to say that I don’t go by that she would say “well that’s what is on my paper work”

-Tried to hug me and/or weird bro handshake thing every time (I am not a touchy person)

-Gave me a ninja turtle McDonald’s toy because “You’re a boy now”

-One hurricane we had he laughed and said “oh it’s hurricane you” (i mean yeah it sounded like my name but it was spelled wrong) (not really inappropriate but like serious spell people’s name correctly)

I always felt uncomfortable going to see him and I continued to see him for a year because “yay I was on Testosterone.” He kept telling me that I needed to be more social or he would take my testosterone away. Hello I grew up in a household that I was punished for even asking to go to the store with my father. How the hell do you think I am just casually going to go to LGBT events you keep shoving down my throat. Even then I was not very comfortable being out. He wanted me to be this “flaming queer” and I just wanted to be a teenage boy worried about getting his license. When I graduated it turned into “Do you have a job yet?” And don’t get me started with how upset he was that I was taking a gap year.

I remember walking up those step each time feeling like my heart was going to fall out of my body. I literally have PTSD from this place. He did sign a letter saying “my body had changed enough and was not going to go back” so I could get my gender marker changed. I had an appointment the day after my name got changed and I was so excited. He literally could not give a shit. I brought my court order and they supposedly changed everything in their system (they didn’t).

So next time I saw him was six months after that appointment and that would be the last time I saw him. I came in, my name wasn’t changed, I was pissed. I showed my changed license, social, insurance, everything and they STILL DID NOT CHANGE IT. (I still get mail from them in my birth name). This was the first appointment I had to drive separately from my mom. I still made her come with me because I hated that place so very much and was so anxious every time I had to go there.

So we wait a long time like always and go back. He was finally like “oh you got your name changed” nah really? I had no clue At this time I did have a job and he was like “cool where?” I knew I need to keep some sort of something to myself. So I responded, “The mall.” I mean it’s technically not wrong. He said, “No what store?” I said, “It *in city that’s 30 minutes away*” and he asked a few more times what store and I kept saying it was at the mall. He finally asked, “Why won’t you tell me?” I said, “I don’t have to tell you. I am allowed to keep somethings to myself.” He got weirdly quiet calm too and said go get your blood work done. So my mom and I went and sat waiting for the weird blood lady like always and I feel proud of myself. I stood up for myself. My mom is uncomfortable and Dr Jones walks in and asks my mom (not me MY MOM) am I seeing a therapist. And I wasn’t and he said, “He needs to work on his attitude issues before he sees me again. He needs a therapist before his next appointment or no more Testosterone.”

I finally felt like my own fucking person. My mom and I waited 5ish more minutes for the weird blood lady. We had talked for months and several occasions of how uncomfortable he made me and how I wanted to find another doctor. I turned to her and said, “I don’t want to come back so why do I have to get my blood drawn?” So we walked down the stairs and for once my anxiety was slipping away. We parked close to each other but I turned around and screamed “FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!” at the building and my voice went numb and it was one of those out of body experiences that just NEEDED to happen.

I have never felt so liberated doing that. Driving home in separate cars with my mom was really awkward because I knew she was upset with how I handled that but as more and more time goes on from these events I feel better. I am very grateful I am on Testosterone but I would not wish this experience onto anyone. Maybe it was just me mixed with my already existing trauma that made it so bad. I was doing my best and the more I was being forced the more I pushed back. Everyone has their own timeline for milestones and just because you aren’t “normal” doesn’t mean anyone should force you into a normal box.

Please even if you are going on hormones or anything your sanity is not worth the trauma please find a doctor that understands and doesn’t manipulate you. I feel bad because “others have it worse” or “you got on T” it is still trauma. You don’t control what is traumatic to your brain. Just please be careful and if you are uncomfortable, you are allowed to find another doctor

#trans #hormones #ftm #hrt #testosterone #transgender #name change #therapy #bad experience

0 notes

momokonako · 7 years

Text

The one thing I regret about my youth is that I wasn’t more of a rebellious bitch. I remember all these times when I was polite to people who flaunted power over me that was an illusion––it was always people who society told me to respect, but in all reality could do nothing to me. Nothing. And yet I bowed to their will anyway. I should’ve stuck it to those people, made their life hell. Like my band director––one hot summer day in the middle of band camp, I was irritated with a fellow flute player that had a history of unprovoked cruelty and petty gossipy-ness towards me named Victoria (she told my younger sister I was a slut once––who does that?). I did not like this girl, and it was hot, and teen angst overcame me and I was just so done with the petty bullshit of high school life. And I had taken a disliking to band at that point, particularly my fellow flute players, and I just didn’t want to stand in the hot sun and go through this idiotic routine one more time. So I was half-hearted––I barely went through the motions, wasn’t really playing along when we were supposed to, was just completely done. And this girl, she said to me, “Can you play along?” or something of that nature, to which my irritated inner emotions overtook me and I replied with the sassiest, meanest response my mind could come up with: “Don’t tell me what to do.” Sad, right? Like wow, that is the epitome of teen sneer. I seriously had nothing wittier or more dramatic than this pathetic response. But the craziest thing is it worked––she cried, was upset I had said that, and went to our band director to complain. Because the thing about bullies and pathetic petty people is that they act that way because they are empty, there is nothing inside them except a fragile sense of identity and an easily broken, low self-esteem. She hated herself and knew she was capable at this point of nothing in life, and that’s why she lashed out at others with gossip and rumors––she had nothing other than that to make herself feel good. So in my feeble comeback, I destroyed this girl. Which is really kind of sad all the way around. But anyway, she went in tears to our band director during a short break, who pulled both of us aside to talk. And she is bawling, tears streaming down her face, talking about how “I don’t respect her” and she doesn’t feel “welcome” by my behavior in this environment. And I’m quiet. I cross my arms, I stare hardened at this bullshit scene. Inside me is a cold steam of hot rage and hardened indifference to the petty, insignificant nature of this incident. And then my band director turns to me, and doesn’t even ask my side of the story––which I probably would have made a face, glared at him, and said nothing, but whatever. I’m literally rolling my eyes at this point, my body language is super hostile, and my band director just starts lecturing me. And he was not a strong leader or confident person, so he’s stumbling through this and stuttering about how everyone should be “nicer to each other,” and that if this “continues to be an issue, he’ll have to contact the Vice-Principal.” And my eyes widen when he mumbles that feebly, because of the ultimatum nature––like this is barely a conflict, he was threatening me with higher-ups involvement for literally the stupidest little thing. And it was the first time any conflict had been brought up between me and Victoria––and as a supervisor now, having to deal constantly with de-escalating interpersonal conflicts, I’m still baffled by how much he escalated the situation. He was the director, he was an experienced teacher, the man should have been able to say, “Hey girls cut it out, let’s work together,” and then let us be on our way, not threaten me with talking to the Vice Principal or whatever. Like it was over the top. And I regret just saying “okay” and walking away, I should have challenged him on that. That man was a weak leader who couldn’t deal with a moody teenager, I should have grown a backbone and spoken my mind––told him Victoria was a pathetic little slug, and that he should take it all the way to the upper level administration. Really just made his life difficult, had him explain why he was forcing the Vice-Principal to take time out of his busy schedule to talk to an unthreatening teenager about telling another peer “Don’t tell me what to do.” Like wow, what’re you going to do? Suspend me? Nothing, you’re not going to do ANYTHING. There was nothing they could do to me, all I had done was have a slight attitude––you can’t fairly punish that, it’s ridiculous. You’re going to be an over-acting dickwad getting calls from an angry parent later if you punish me. Your power is an illusion––no one that day had any power over me. I could have told them all to fuck off and been completley fine. Thrived, even––I would’ve still had my 4.0 GPA and position as a high-achieving honors student. So I regret not sticking it to the man and pointing out the nakedness of their empire. The other, more powerful time that I regret not being a raging cunt in high school was when I met Doug McLinko, a country commissioner, during an NHS volunteering event. I shook his hand, said my name, and I could see in his eyes that he recognized me. Doug McLinko, when elected county commissioner, created a hit list of people that he disagreed with politically and did not want in government positions. Then, one by one, he went done the list and had them removed from their jobs. It was evil, political debauchery at its worst. My mother was on that list, and although she wasn’t the first, pretty soon she was dismissed from her job as administrator of the country library. It was devastating on our family - she was the main/only income source for our family, her husband was a deadbeat that would disappear for months and steal money from her, she had two kids that weren’t even in high school yet, and we had just bought a new house. And through his and the other county commissioner’s scheming, they made my mom lose her job for no good reason at all. It sucked, it really sucked - I remembering not really understanding the situation well, but crying with my mom on her bed at night. And shortly after that, my mom, who has always struggled with clinical depression, had a breakdown and had to be hospitalized. And my family, who has always kind of struggled, has really struggled since. We’ve been poor, my mom has worked multiple jobs for low pay that most of the time she is overqualified for, it’s difficult just to get by. And I put a lot of blame for that on Doug McLinko. So I regret that I said nothing when my 16 year-old self met him that day, and shook his hand, and introduced myself, and saw his eyes light up with recognition at who I was the daughter of. I should have been a hostile, rebelious bitch. I would give anything to go back to that day and make that man look me dead in the eye, and say “Hi, I’m Elizabeth. You had my mom fired. She was hospitalized after that happened. You made me almost lose my mother, and I live in poverty because she can’t find a sufficient way to support out family now. My life has suffered because of you.” He has no power over me, he could have done nothing. And he deserved to look at my face and see the consequences of his actions, feel guilty for being a power-driven, immoral little man.

0 notes