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generalluxun · 6 months

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Hey. Asking about how Chloe was abused. My knowldge of abuse is fairly limited to general pop knowledge so I'm curious as to what abuse was done to her.

Okay caveats first:

I am not a medical professional, I am simply someone with a vested interest in the topic who has done more research than the average person.

There are many definitions of abuse. Legal definitions are rarely useful, as they are limited to concrete, provable, gross violations. Just as you can inflict a lot of pain on someone without leaving the marks to prove assault, you can do a lot of damage to a child without it being legally 'provable'. Medical definitions are much more helpful for discussions.

Lastly some level of extrapolation is required as it is a show. We take what we are shown. For example:We actually only have Felix's word that he was ever abused, and his first character traits sre being deceitful and manipulative. We still take his word though, because it's a show. (And also we should give weight to victim accounts!)

So both parents are guilty in different ways. We will start with Audrey, the simpler one. There's clear verbal and emotional abuse demonstrated on screen. Mis-naming your child is a form of abuse:please ask the trans community about the impact of deadnaming even in full grown adults.

Beyond that she is constantly dismissive and belittling of her child- to the exclusion of all else. Style Queen/Queen Wasp is rife with examples. There is also the clear behavior shift in Chloé. The wheeling, approval seeking, hunched posture expecting rejection. This is a *pattern* not a one off. Audrey may live in NY, but no fashion movil would be away from Paris for 13yrs straight. We are simply seeing the most recent interaction. This culminates im a child having to ask 'Why don't you love me mother?' and the response is telling

Audrey barely chokes out the strange word when trying to contradict the question. It takes Marinette literally making them both mad at her to get a bare minimum of interaction on Audrey's part. It doesn't last though. Audrey falls back into her negation behaviors and is now present to inflict them more regularly on Chloé, while also being a constant target for/model of behavior for Chloé. (Seriously it was such a misstep to write Marinette reuniting a victim with an abuser) We know the show itself considers Audrey'ss care as a bad thing because the original script had André divorcing her and takin Zoé because Zoé 'doesn't deserve you' so Chloé being in an abusive parenting situation in Representation is supposed to be 'punishment'(ewww)

André is not off the hook either. People look at him 'spoiling' her and leave it at that. Well, 'spoiling' can in fact be abusive too. Let's look at what we see:

André has been her primary caregiver for 14 years now, so he has had the most responsibility in molding what we see for good or bad(mostly bad). She does learn from him too. Darkblade she proudly announces she learned everything about winning elections from watching her father. He's also excessively arrogant (I'm the symbol of Paris!) and quite willing to abuse his power for his own ends(having Roger round up protestors etc) which explains where Chloé learned where power is to be abused.

André is also extremely neglectful as a parent, extreeeeemely. Let's hit a bunch of points in the order they come to me.

Chloé lives *alone* in a hotel suite. There's no shared space, no family area. It's not even really her room. It's commercial, sterile. Where sre her hobbies? Posters? Even her *colors*? She is so used to being ignored at home that the girl who is loud as heck everywhere else doesn't make a single mark on her living space.

A hotel employee seems to think he needs to step in to raise Chloé. Let that sink in. An employee can see how bad it is and tried to make some kind of change, (he's working against a lifetime of ingrained behavior and is not very good at it himself). He doesn't even think to you know... Get Andre in to do this.

André was unaware or didn't care his daughter hasn't done schoolwork since Sabrina *learned to write*(5/6 yrs old) that is a shocking level of disinterest in your child. 6yr olds aren't criminal masterminds.

Andre supplants actual attention and affection with *stuff* he gives material possessions in *place* of parenting. This is somewhat similar to spoiling but not the same. André's method denies the child something vital. You see- things aren't a substitute for affection/attention, developmentally. And so while they may delight they never satisfy the need. They never validate the emotional attachment. So after the shine wears off, the hole is still there. So, like someone with an addiction, the child needs more, and more, and more. Since the needs are never met, it is never enough. And this is what the child views as *normal* this is simply *how it is*. They rarely know they are being given inadequate care because it's just life to them. Seeing something different in a one off doesn't make a dent vs a whole life.

This sort of thing makes a potent cocktail when mixed with the abandonment issues from her mother too. See- if her mother left, and daddy doesn't pay attention, anyone can leave. This leads to a cycle of pushing/demanding/hurting. The child expects to be left and let down, so they both try to reassure themselves it won't happen, and *make* it happen on their own terms (because they believe deep down it will) so more outrageous demands, because when those demands are met, it shows that you are still 'loved' and when they are not met, then there you go, you are not loved and they will leave you. It's a self-destructive spiral.

You see it play out with her interactions with her classmates and Sabrina specifically. How does she express affection? Gifts. What does she do? Push. Push and push and find the breaking point because if she can make Sabrina actually leave then it shows that she herself is worthless and her mother was right to leave her and her father is right to ignore her. Pretty messed up right? Yeah. Child abuse does horrible things to kids.

We're not done with André yet. Some people might say 'he expresses love for Chloé!' and to that I say- performatively.

André likes the idea of being a father. It's what respectable people do. It looks good on camera. It's someone to love him unconditionally. It's an ally against his wife.(broken home dynamics are horrible too) André just doesn't like having to parent for more than a snapshot.

We can see his interactions with Zoé highlight this too. He's delighted she's here!(a potential person on his side vs his wife and daughter) what's his first parenting advice? 'lock your dreams away and get on with life' A+ André.

What's he do in Queen Banana? He uses his power to let Chloé manipulate the movie *kicking Zoé out of it* This is the guy who is supposed to be supporting her? He only draws the line when it comes to sending Zoé away... Why? He doesn't want to lose an 'ally'. It's power dynamics. Not parenting. Where was he when Zoé was stuck in boarding school? He was going to keep Zoé in the divorce so clearly Mr Lee isn't in the picture, Audrey probably forgot Zoé existed, why didn't André bring Zoé to France and let the sisters grow up together? Oh, right, that might be work.

André likes Zoé because she comes pre-raised(boarding school was probably better than either parent) he doesn't have to put in work and he gets a free good kid to make him look like a father. She's his 'do over' as he throws the one he raised in the trash.

André shows his true colors when he's lamenting to Gabe about his corruption and abuse and blames ot on his 'heartless daughter' you know... The child he raised. The grown man is actually shoving his own corruption and misdeeds onto his child. You really don't need much more than that.

So, via neglect, verbal abuse, and emotional abuse the Bourgeois parents raised an incredibly messed up child. Chloé is not a 'good victim' like Adrien, she doesn't sulk quietly under abuse. She lashes out. She is hurt and angry and she passes the pain on. This is why they call it the cycle of abuse.

The end of Revolution illustrates this perfectly. Audrey throws verbal abuse at her on the plane. Angry that Chloé embarrassed her(not that she did wrong, Audrey loved the power grab) and calls her a loser by implication. You *see* it hit, the physical cringe. Then Chloé immedietely goes to try and pass on the pain. She is hurt and making someone else hurt is the only way to lessen it. She calls Marinette. Marinette breaks the cycle though, and good for her. But the show seems to have forgotten there's still one hurt child in this scene, and it doesn't seem to care.

I'm going to stop here for now. I probably left a bunch out, but I do have other things I need to do. Feel free to ask more questions. Thanks for taking the time to seek answers.

#ask #chloé bourgeois #child abuse is never okay #child abuse is not justice #andre bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #zoe lee #miraculous ladybug

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

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AITA for being mad at my best friend for crushing on this girl?

I know the title sounds bad, but hear me out. Also, this happened two years ago, but I just remembered it and idk how to feel about the way I felt back then.

So, my best friend at the time will be called D (then 17F) is a trans girl and I am nonbinary. She was already out at the time and I was not.

There was this girl in our grade, who I’ll call L. L had some political views that reminded me of radfems and transmeds. L was also a lesbian. L was very heavily transphobic against nonbinary people and she heavily defended the gender binary as much as she could, like all the time. She made fun of nonbinary people a lot and it hurt me a lot, because in the previous year (before she was open about those views), she and I almost became friends and I had had a crush on her.

When she showed that transphobic side of hers, my feelings disappeared quickly because I was very hurt by that. Obviously, L didn’t know that I’m nonbinary but it still hurt.

D and I at first were both very against all the things L was saying, but over time D and L ended up sitting together in art class. While I got to sit alone (for context: I hate sitting alone in art class because it was one of the only classes where I had friends (aka D) and i already had to sit alone in most other subjects and I was very lonely). I got pretty jealous of D spending time with L while I was alone.

I want to point out that D chose of her own free will to sit next to L, the teacher did not make her do that.

I however felt bad about being jealous, so i didn’t say anything to D except that I was unhappy to sit alone in general, but I don’t think she understood what I meant.

Eventually, I heard from D that L had talked bad about nonbinary people again (she apparently called us stupid and confused). But D also said that L had defended D against some people who were misgendering her. I wasn’t surprised by that bc L viewed D as a “real trans person”. On that note, L also said at one point that she supported trans people, but nonbinary people don’t count as trans to her.

D brought this up to me and seemed to agree with L and I was so shocked by that that I didn’t know what to say.

Eventually, D confessed to me that she had a crush on L and might even be falling in love. I tried to be a good friend to D and tried to support her externally, but internally I felt really hurt that D would feel like that about L when L indirectly insulted me all the time. Obviously; L wasn’t attacking me personally, but it still felt shitty as hell. But I also know that D can’t control her feelings. In the time that D was crushing on L, she changed quite a bit. One time she even misgendered me in the comment section of my own post and called my by my deadname in a private text convo between us even tho she knows that I hate that.

Eventually, that topic of “super straights” appeared on tiktok and L defended that a lot and was very vocal and supportive about how trans women and cis women are not the same and vice versa with trans men. And how no straight cis man would ever want to be with a trans woman and stuff like that. D was active on tiktok at the time too, on the other side of that argument obviously. This cause D to distance herself from L and she seemed comfortable from me. I did try to comfort her, but internally I couldn’t help but be happy that she finally stopped liking L and I admittedly also wasn’t surprised by L having those views and I didn’t really feel bad that D had to learn of that side of L like that.

So AITA? I think I should’ve been more sensible of D’s feelings, but she also wasn’t very sensible of mine, so idk

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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gay-dorito-dust · 10 months

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Could you do Miguel x GN!reader comfort where they get off the phone with their very transphobic parents and Miguel just cuddles them and says things like "you aren't your deadname" and stuff like that? Sorry if this was confusing or if this makes you uncomfortable I just need some comfort stuff right now.

Don’t worry, I’ve got you sweetheart. I hope this is enough to bring you and anyone else going through anything similar at least some comfort.

Tw: unsupportive and transphobic parents

You didn’t know what you were expecting when your parents decided to call you - and out of the blue no less- but once they had finished saying their piece, leaving you with no real room to fight back as they were quick to hang up, having felt as though they’ve done their due diligence in using you as their personal punching bag like they’ve always done to relive themselves of whatever daily stresses they withheld. All you wanted to do thereafter was lay down on your bed and cry your heart out into the void, demanding to know what you had done to possibly earn this treatment, to become an ire to the very people who claimed that they would love you no matter what because that’s what family did.

But you guess their love was only and truly unconditional when you; don’t question their rules, don’t talk unless spoken to, don’t require them to make an effort in actually raising you because you do that yourself, wholeheartedly believe their manipulation tactics, gaslighting and crocodile tears, forcing yourself to upkeep the image that they had of their ideal child despite how wrong it felt to the point you want to claw your own skin off. It physically pained you when you reminded yourself that your parents will never love you -or have never truly loved you- because you were finally living the life you were meant to lead, and it all boiled down to them disagreeing with your truth and how they would tell you time and time again that it was wrong and not natural, even going so far as to say that you were straying away from the beliefs that they’ve implemented onto you, calling you not natural or right in the head because of how you felt about the body that you were in.

So as you laid unmoving, cheeks having become dried with the tears you’ve shed, you didn’t notice that Miguel had crawled in beside you, until you felt his strong arms slowly pull your into him as your cheek hit his muscular chest where his scent invaded your senses. ‘They called again didn’t they?’ He asked and from the way you tried to compact yourself tightly against him by tucking your head further into his chest so he didn’t see the fresh wave of tears, your arms stretching across his waist in means of bracing yourself from all the thoughts that resurfaced to the forefront of your mind upon his implication as you gradually tightened your hold.

You didn’t respond but Miguel didn’t need you to as the way you cling onto him told him all that he needed to known. It pained him greatly to see you like this and despite how badly he wanted to confront them on your behalf, he knew that you needed him more then ever. ‘You’re aren’t your deadname,’ Miguel began as he held you tighter against himself, his hand handing begun to rub your back comfortingly as his other hand soothingly stroked the back of your of your neck, ‘you’re more then that y/n and you always will be. You want to know why?’ Miguel felt you shrug in responses, ‘it’s because you’ve exempted more bravery then anyone I’ve ever met in my whole life, you’re brave in being who you are and on-top of that you take pride in who you are and I think that’s admirable.’ He stopped when he felt tears soaking into his shirt, forming a wet patch but continued on, knowing that you needed an shoulder to cry on and Miguel was happy enough to provide that.

‘You shouldn’t take their words as anything more then a grain of salt because they don’t get the privilege that I get of seeing the amazing person I see before me and if they can’t see that nor are willing to change their views by educating themselves then that’s on them. You aren’t responsible for them or their narrow minded views because- and I want you to look at me when I say this sweetheart,’ you begrudgingly removed your head so that you were looking into Miguel’s eyes that softened upon looking at you, he quickly removed the hand from your back in order to hold your head steady by your chin as his thumb wiped away as many tears as he could, ‘you shouldn’t have to make sacrifices to who you are in order to make someone else feel comfortable in your presence,’ he tells you, his thumb still softly stroking your cheek as he looked at you admiringly, ‘especially not to those who wouldn’t think of returning the same amount of respect that you give them.’

‘But what if they’re right?’ You asked, your mind still transfixed on every vile word that they said down the phone without a secondary thought in regards of how you felt throughout it all, even when they reminded you that society would never accept you for who you were; It was an unfortunate factor that you believed will never change if people like your parents were still alive to spew hateful rhetoric. ‘We both know that’s bullshit.’ Miguel stated as he pressed his forehead against yours, looking deeper into your eyes as though he were soul searching. ‘Don’t let them get this win over you y/n, don’t crumble beneath their words, don’t give them that type of power over you and due to the fact that you’re stronger then to believe their bullshit and instead making the active choice to rise above it. Just remember that I’m always going to be right here, ready to catch you wherever and whenever, because i want you to always know that you’re never alone. okay.’

You hummed, not trusting your voice as you gripped onto him tighter as to reassure yourself that he was very much real and not some figment of your imagination. ‘Use me however you like, whether it be a shoulder to cry on, someone to remind you that you are valid and you are loved and how you shouldn’t feel like an imposter in your own skin. You should always feel like you belong in your own skin and shouldn’t settle for less because you deserve everything and so much more that life has to give, you understand?’

‘I understand.’ You told him softly. ‘Thank you Miguel.’

‘For what my beloved?’ He asked, genuinely curious.

‘For teaching me that I shouldn’t have to put myself in states of constant discomfort just because people tell me to, for teaching me that I shouldn’t be afraid to take up space and freely express myself however I want because I’ve only got one life to live and it’s better to live it as my truest self and being unapologetic for it.’ You tell him, all the while he smiled at you with pride, ‘I don’t owe anyone an explanation for why I should be aloud to exit like everybody else and mostly you taught me how I should feel powerful in being able to confidently say this is who i am and I that is not going to change. You taught me that when push comes to shove, I’ll stand my ground, dig my heels if I need too and look whoever dead in the eye and tell them I ain’t going anywhere.’

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ch0c0-cake · 2 years

Text

Let Go (Part Three)

five hargreeves x gn!reader

part four

part two

summary - after some rough nights with five, the both of you managed to get back home to 2019. some things have changed for the worse, however, and you receive devastating news.

warnings - cursing, fighting/arguing, blood mention, killing mention, self-unaliving mention

note - im in love with this series??? it’s very surreal to see people supporting my writing, i hope you guys like this part. i will not be using viktor’s deadname in this story, and (G/n) refers to ‘Guardian’s Name’.

You knew Five had been coming up with an equation to get the both of you back to 2019 for quite a while. He would stay up crazy hours at night, sometimes even fall asleep at his desk without having eaten anything. You hated having to gently shake him awake so late at night, asking him to eat something for you. It all was taking such a toll on his mental health, and you both knew it.

“Five…wake up, you need to eat something.” You had whispered softly to him. He was slouched over the kitchen table, pencil having dropped from his hand and on the floor. “Five…” you laid a hand on his shoulder.

He grumbled a little, stirring and opening his eyes after a few moments. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than ever, and he was also more pale than he had ever been. “Go away…”

“No, you know I can’t unless you eat something.” You kept your voice low, not wanting to irritate him more than he already was. “You have to give yourself some sustenance. Please, Five? Get up.”

Five slammed a hand on the table (causing you to jump away) and stood up, going to the cupboard and pulling out a pack of crackers. He leaned against the counter and stared at you with one of his sarcastic smiles and rather aggressively bit into a cracker. “There. Sustenance. Happy?”

A frown tugged down on your lips, and as your eyebrows tugged down too, the crackers in Five’s hand followed with the help of your telekinesis.

“You know damn well that’s not what I meant.” You held up a hand and flicked it to the side, the door of the fridge opening and slamming against the wall loudly. The container of the dinner you had made that night (that only you had eaten any of) casually floated out, but harshly slammed on the counter Five leaned against. “Just because you’re doing this for the both of us doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole. Next time, you can fend for yourself and I’ll make enough for one.” With that, you slammed the refrigerator door shut and did the same with the door to your room after you stormed away to it.

Nights like that unfortunately became relatively common. You usually felt bad for being so impatient with him, but you also had enough self-respect to stick up for yourself when Five was being an ass. Luckily, Five would come to his senses pretty soon after those small fights.

“Partner? (Y/n), please, open the door.” His voice, now calmer, came from the other side of the door. He sighed when he heard the light ‘click!’ of the lock. You and your damn powers. “I have powers too. I would rather not invade your privacy, so please come and let me in.” When he got no response still, he got too impatient and simply blinked inside. There was a lump of blankets on your bed, obviously you trying to hide and doing a terrible job at it.

“I could have been naked or something, asshat.” Your very mumbled voice came from the pile of blankets.

“If you were, you would have said something of the sort.” He simply answered, approaching the bed and taking a seat. “I’m not asking for you to say anything, I’ve just come to let you know I’m sorry and that you were right. I know it’s late tonight, but I’d like to eat with you tomorrow night, if you still would be willing to cook for two.” He paused, waiting for any kind of response. When he received nothing, he got up from the bed. “I’ll let you think on it. I’ll leave you alone and let you get some rest now.”

He started to go, but something gripped his sleeve before he could leave. When he looked, all he saw was his sleeve bunched up like someone was holding it. However, your hand was outstretched from your blanket pile. He snickered softly as you pulled him back to the bed, taking a seat before gently pulling the blankets away from your face.

“It’s like I don’t see you anymore, Five. I understand you’re working hard to get us home, I really do. I just miss you sometimes. Then you get mad at me for trying to get you to take care of yourself.” You explained, sitting up and letting the blankets fall from your top half. “If we wanna go home, you have to be in good shape so you can work better on those long-ass equations.”

Five took this in. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were right. He hated when he was wrong. “Yeah, okay.” He sighed out. “I’ll try to be better, okay?”

“If you don’t I’m seriously gonna quit cooking you dinner.”

“Sure, partner.”

True to his word, Five made more of an effort to spend some kind of time with you. His favorite was usually just sitting next to you while calculating a way home. Rarely he would make conversation, but you liked sitting together in silence. It was better than sitting and reading by yourself. Sometimes you would share the sofa, sitting back to back with your legs over an arm of the couch. He would murmur to himself and write down numbers, and you would calmly turn the pages of whatever book you were reading.

Being an assassin of course took its toll on both of you, but the soft and quiet moments you and Five shared were worth it. And, exactly like Five said, you got used to the killing after some point. Coming home and washing blood off your body wasn’t your favorite, but it was more bearable each time. You weren’t sure if you should feel rewarded or ashamed when you and Five were regarded as the two best assassins on the force.

But soon enough, Five found you two a way out. Before your mission in Dallas, Five explained everything to you. You two were going home. You didn’t pay too much attention to all the technical mumbo jumbo. All that mattered was you were gonna go home. See your guardian that you had accidentally abandoned.

You nervously stood by Five, who held the gun carefully in his hands. Peering over the fence, you watched as the bullet left the gun with a loud ‘BANG!’ and pure panic ensued. He quickly dropped the shotgun on the around and took both your hands in his.

“Are you ready, partner? We’re going home.” His smile spread from ear to ear.

“Take us home, Fivey.” You whispered, giving his hands a squeeze before letting go so he would work his magic.

Clenching his fists together and shutting his eyes tightly, blue energy wavering around him as he concentrated. You hoped it wouldn’t be too hard with all the screaming around. Gusts of wind blew your hair all around, your tie almost slipping right off your neck. Leaves from nearby trees swirled around you both. You anxiously bit your lip watching Five strain, wishing you could help in some way. It seemed to be working, though. A large cerulean portal began to form, five figures standing and staring in a courtyard. You gasped as one threw a fire extinguisher though, and it about clocked you in the head.

“Come on, I can’t hold it for long! Don’t let go!” Five grunted out, and he grabbed your hand and the pair of you started going into the portal. It definitely wasn’t easy. An odd sensation spread through your entire body, and all you could think to do was grip Five’s hand as tightly as you could. You didn’t want to let go like last time.

And then you were falling. Yelps escaped you and Five as gravity suddenly pulled you both to the ground, leaves where you landed scattering a little. You could hear voices, but couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying. You didn’t really care at the moment, since your body hurt like hell after falling from such a height.

You stood up, brushing some of the leaves off you as you felt Five stand up from next to you. At least nobody let go this time.

“Uh…does anybody else see little Five and (Y/n)? Or is that just me?” A slightly nervous voice said, and you looked in the direction of the voice to see…Klaus? You saw Klaus! In the midst of your relief, you also registered exactly what he said.

“Little?” You said, choking on air once you heard your own voice come out of your mouth. You reached and felt your own body, mortified at what you felt. You were smaller.

You glanced over to Five and brought your hand to your mouth. He looked exactly the same as when you first time traveled to the apocalypse. The suit he previously wore was much too big for him. He glanced down at himself and then to you, his eyes widening. The two of you spoke at the exact same time.

“Shit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☂️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So let me get this straight, you screwed up a calculation and now we’re sixteen again?!” You exclaimed after leaving Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, and Viktor basically clueless.

“Our bodies are sixteen.” Five corrected calmly. “Our consciousnesses are still the same age as we were before.” He said, opening the door to his room. You sighed in slight irritation and flopped down on Five’s bed.

“I’m a teenager again. This sucks ass.” You groaned, rubbing your face with your hands. Five walked in and shut the door, sighing.

“Well, at least we’re back. And we have some things to do.” Five fished something out of his pocket. An eye.

“Oh, is that the one eyeball you’ve been obsessing over?” You asked, watching Five approach and sit next to you. You couldn’t help but smile as he started his response, but all you could focus on was his face. It was interesting seeing him so young again. He stared at the eye while he talked, face very intense.

“Are you even listening?” Five waved his hand in front of your face.

All you did was beam and reach up and gently pinched his cheek. “Look how cute you are!” You laughed. “You’re so little now!” You only laughed harder at his face scrunching up.

He smacked your hand away. “Watch it! You’re little too!” He growled out, which only led to you cackling harder.

“I know! It’s kinda funny!” You giggled out, reaching up and trying to ruffle Five’s hair. He shoved you away and ended up knocking you on the floor. “Five!” You complained, and he leaned over to look at you.

“I told you to watch it.” He shrugged, tilting his head when he saw you smile at him. “What’s got you so happy?”

“We’re home, Five.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☂️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your state of joy didn’t last very long. While Five went to get a cup of coffee and visit Viktor to talk to him about the apocalypse, you went to your old home, hoping to speak to your guardian. Announce that you were home after so so long. You reluctantly rang the bell, waiting a few moments until the door opened to reveal a woman you had never met before. She looked to be around thirty or so. Her hair was jet black and styled in a disheveled bob cut, and she wore a crop top and skirt your guardian absolutely never would have approved of.

“We don’t want any cookies, kid.” She was about to shut the door but you instantly grabbed it before she could slam it shut. “Kid, I don’t want any of what you’re selling.”

“I’m not selling anything.” You seethed out, already not pleased with this woman’s attitude. “This is my house. Now get the hell out before I strangle you with my tie.”

She raised her eyebrow at you, not seeming too threatened. Curse this damned body. “Then why do me and my daughter live here?”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You and your daughter? That’s impossible. Where’s (G/n)? This is where we lived!”

“(G/n)?” The woman’s gaze suddenly softened, and she looked you up and down. “What’s your name, kid?”

“…(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” You responded, not sure if you trusted this woman. “How do you know them? Tell me.”

She took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself for something. “Come inside, kid. We have some things to talk about.” She stepped aside and held the door open. The hell was this woman talking about? Nonetheless, you reluctantly stepped inside.

Everything was just as you remembered. Your guardian had been rather wealthy, which was helpful since they had paid quite a bit for Reginald to train you. The old architecture of the building made you feel nostalgic, and you often remembered you and your guardian calmly sitting in the lounge reading together. You both would play a game of sorts, where you would each choose a random book and have the other read the first chapter. It was a way for you both to expand your taste, since the other could pick a book the other wouldn’t dream of choosing on their own. That’s how you grew to like Frankenstein and other classic novels.

“Alright, have you picked a book?” (G/n) hummed, sitting on their favorite armchair with a small novel in their hands. “I’ve been waiting for quite some time.”

“Be patient.” You huffed, browsing the shelves in search for a book you hoped they would like. “Oh!” You grabbed one from the shelf closest to the door and ran back to where your caretaker sat, hopping on the arm of the chair. “Here!” You dropped the book in their lap, a giddy smile on your face.

“Easy there, child.” They laughed gently, placing the book they were holding in their lap and grabbing the one you had selected. “Let’s see…I haven’t heard of this one. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke?”

“Yeah! It’s so cool, it’s about this girl and her father and the dad has this cool thing where-”

“Now hold on!” They held up their hand. “Don’t I have to read the first chapter by myself?” They grabbed the book they had picked for you, and you took it.

A grimace spread on your face. “Frankenstein? Seriously? You know I hate classic novels like this. I didn’t like The Count of Monte Cristo, I’m not gonna like this.”

“You know the rules.” A smug smile graced their lips, and you groaned. You stood and flopped on the other armchair, opening the book and starting to read.

You ended up forgetting about the whole ‘read the first chapter’. You accidentally kept on reading. You only realized how far you had read when (G/n) walked into the room with dinner.

“Aren’t you glad I had you read that?” They hummed, placing the tray of food on the table.

“It’s good!” You exclaimed, grabbing a bookmark and placing it in between the pages. (G/n) caught you folding the page once, and you got a big scolding for that one. You carefully moved the novel away from the food and began to eat.

They smiled calmly. “Once you finish that, I have a few other recommendations.”

“Can we sit here?” You asked once arriving in that same place you and your caretaker sat. “We used to sit here a lot.”

“Yeah, kid.” She said, and the two of you respectively sat down.

“You haven’t told me your name.” You commented, leg bouncing as you looked around the room.

“Ah, my bad.” She ran a hand through her dark hair. “My name’s Celia. I moved in here about…sixteen years ago. About a year after you went missing.”

You tensed up. “How do you know about that, Celia?” You inquired, leaning back in the chair.

“Well, everyone knew about you and that other boy disappearing. Especially you. (G/n) put posters everywhere, never stopped asking people about you. It was…I’m not gonna bullshit you, it was really depressing.” She sighed, rubbing her arms. “After a while…they lost hope and…”

“And what, Celia?” Your voice wavered, and the tension was very thick. You weren’t sure if you really wanted to hear her answer.

“…I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, kid.” She clasped her hands together. “They ended their own life.”

Time seemed to slow. Your ears started ringing and your vision went blurry. Celia was saying something, but you didn’t hear her, and you didn’t want to either. Your mouth was drier than a desert, and you could feel your breathing get shallow like a kiddie pool. You were suddenly moving, not knowing exactly where you were doing. Just not there. Somewhere you could be alone. Faint sounds of footsteps behind you went disregarded by you, and you went right to the door. You opened the door and was met by the loud cocking of a gun in front of you.

Multiple men stood there, all dressed in black and with guns. Commission folk. Great timing.

“Come quietly, and we won’t have to hurt you, kid. Some guys are getting your little boyfriend too.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Come on, I don’t wanna kill a teen. You think we wanna fill a kid with a buncha lead?”

“Don’t worry. You won’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☂️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags 🏷 (as in you guys wanted the other parts so im assumed you wanted this one too)~ @lilsubbysblog @ells-graveyard @generousdoodleforillustration @beakami @staygoldsquatchling02 @harleyquinn3289

more is definitely on the way ;)

#five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #gn reader #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #viktor hargreeves

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cannedbeefaroni · 7 months

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The Hand That Feeds (Edward Nashton x OC)

Summary: Edward finds himself on the receiving end of a secret admirer and stalker. When someone from his past forces himself into his life, Edward foolishly finds himself taking pity on him.

Content: Stalking, depression, mental illness, homelessness, mental institutionalization, mention of suicide ideation, use of deadname because the OC is a closeted trans man, nudity, physical restraint/aggression, overall angst.

The OC is Mitch D'Angelo, AKA The Distortionist. Here is more information about him.

Knocking on the poorly aged apartment door, Mitch was taking possibly the biggest gamble of his life. The fluorescent ceiling light flickered, and the cramped hallway reeked of something dying. In the silence, he could hear the water dripping from his soaked clothes onto the ground. The chance that anyone was awake at this hour was slim. Becoming increasingly apprehensive, he hoped no one would answer the door, but his hopes were shattered as the wooden floor creaked at an increasing volume. Heavy steps sent shivers down his spine, and he wanted to run, but this was his only choice. The lock was suddenly being undone, causing him to jolt as the door opened, still on the latch. Suddenly, he was being stared down by a large figure between the crack of the door. Warm light pooled out from behind. He fixated on his eyes, unblinking as if they would be the last things he ever saw.

“Please, help me,” Mitch croaks, unable to string together any other thought.

“Do I know you?” he sneers.

“It’s Michelle,” he murmurs reluctantly, pulling his hood down to further expose his face. “You remember me, right Edward?”

Eyeing him up and down, Edward relaxes a little. “Yeah,” he answers, quietly. “I thought they put you in Arkham?”

“They released me,” he sighs. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“How did you find my apartment?” he asks.

“Oh, it’s a funny story actually,” he perks up slightly. “They rehired me at the call center for a little bit. I searched some databases, and I found employee data for the forensics department, and I found you there. Turns out our departments shared the same website. They ended up firing me because I ‘wasn’t fit for the job anymore’. Apparently you quit a while ago, I wonder why,” he rambles, forgetting his anxiety for a moment.

Edward, raises an eyebrow, unphased. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

“In my defense, it’s not the worst thing I’ve done.”

“What makes you think I’ll let you in?”

“No one cares about people like us,” Mitch recites, grimly. Glancing up, he notices Edward’s gaze soften. “Remember the time you told me that? The time I had to give you information about a case. The first time we ever spoke. We’re both miserable. I thought you’d be more understanding.”

Silence. Edward doesn’t move, instead he continues staring down at the other man. He almost looked like an entirely different person, as if being institutionalized aged and withered him away. His hair fell over his face, choppy, frizzy, and damp. His clothes were all baggy, weighing heavy on his body. He slumped into himself, sighing deeply.

“Forget it,” he whispers, starting to walk away. Suddenly, the door shut and reopened with the latch undone. Standing to the side of the frame, Edward lets him in. Apprehensive, he walks inside as the door is shut behind him. The apartment isn’t as dingy as the rest of the building, being slightly more updated. It was painfully plain, with all white walls and scuffed up wooden floors and cabinets.

Despite already being on edge, Mitch yelps as his wrists are grabbed and shoved against his chest, pinning him back against the door. His hands and fingers twitch he’s grasped and shoved in place. “I want to help you,” Edward starts, breathing heavily on the other’s face. “How do I know your intentions are pure? Why exactly are you here?” Spreading his arms by his wrists, he pins them against the door, allowing him to hover his body closer to his.

“I want to use your shower,” he states timidly, though he isn’t as scared as he’s supposed to be.

“Why mine? We only spoke a few times several years ago. You don’t have any friends or family to go to?”

“I don’t” he responds flatly.

“What is it about me that made you come here?” he hisses, growing impatient. Edward’s hands tremble, still painfully gripping his sharp, bony wrists.

“You’re interesting,” Mitch says with a weak voice. Raising an eyebrow, Edward’s grip weakens slightly, confused. “I thought it was interesting how by coincidence, we frequented the same cafe every week, and how despite how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out what it was you did during the day. It was as if you only went out at night. You’re one of the sick people like me who drink coffee late at night,” he chuckled, almost forgetting he was pinned against a wall being interrogated by a man twice his strength.

“What do you think I do at night?” he grumbles through gritted teeth.

“Graveyard shift, I guess,” Mitch shrugs, playing dumb for his own well-being.

“So that’s it? You just have some weird fixation on me?”

“I think of you as a friend.”

Releasing a sigh, Edward lets go, turning away from him. “Fine. You can use my shower,” he walks across the floor, turning the corner into the hallway. Mitch stays put by the door, mind foggy. He tries processing what just happened, but is cut off by Edward yelling across the apartment, “hey, I’m trying to show where the bathroom is.” Startled, he perks up, following into the hallway he saw him disappear into.

After being left alone with the door shut, Mitch stared at himself in the mirror, having not been paying attention to his appearance for so long. The first thing he noticed were how red his eye whites had become, and how deep and defined his under eye bags were. He began undressing, relieved, finally shedding the dingy, soaked clothes. As the sleeves slid up his arms, he noticed many cuts and bruises for the first time on his newly exposed skin. He noticed even more as he looked at his bare torso in the mirror, trancing his fingers across a deep purple bruise on his stomach. He felt disassociated as he stared at his nude body, as if he forgot it existed. Turning the faucet on, he let the water run cold, waiting for it to heat up. After several minutes of no change in the temperature, he braced himself, stepping into the ice cold shower. It hurt, especially on his open wounds, so he tried washing himself as quickly as possible. The only soap was a nearly finished bar with little hairs stuck all over it, and no sign of shampoo or conditioner. He worked with what he was given, and tried cleaning himself as thoroughly as possible.

Pulling back the shower curtains, he was met with the fact that there wasn’t a towel in sight. Stepping out of the tub, he trailed water across the cracked tiles as he rummaged through cabinets, finding nothing to dry himself with. He gave up, flicking off the lights and crawling back into the tub, laying on his side. He was scared to leave the bathroom, knowing that Edward might kick him out instantly. Sleeping in a bathtub wasn’t comfortable at all, but it was better than any other option he had. Entangled in his own arms, his shoulders cramped against the hard surface, entire body shivering. Despite his discomfort, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, half aware of the nightmares he began slipping into.

All of his dreams were similar, always leaving him with feelings of entrapment and loss of control. They were scary and confusing, the only word he could find to describe them was “unreality.” Not even remembering what was seen in the nightmares, he could only recall feelings of what happened. Being touched, beaten, touching others, hurting others, and other perverse, violent things. He’s tried writing them down to understand them better, but it proved to be impossible. The next best thing was to illustrate them, which produced hideous, unrecognizable, abstract garbage, in his eyes. He accepted that there was nothing he could do to make the nightmares stop.

In the middle of the night, he was awoken by the creaking of the bathroom door. Though his eyes fluttered open, his vision was hazy, and he didn’t feel awake. The ground beneath his body reverberated with heavy footsteps, and a shadowy figure loomed over him in the near pitch black room. Not even sure if it was Edward, he stayed still, pretending to still be sleeping. It felt like they were standing there for hours as he held his breath, but the figure bent forward, encroaching their arms around Mitch before picking him up from the bathtub. His head fell over the figure’s shoulders, too exhausted to hold it up. They wore a thick jacket, and he could feel body heat through the material against his bare skin, strangely feeling nice in a possible dire situation. He was too tired to be afraid, but he managed to make a few sleepy grunts in protest.

“It’s fine, it’s just me. Go back to sleep,” Edward whispered, mouth grazing against the side of his face. Despite having no reason to trust him, Mitch instinctively relaxed, letting him drop him onto a bed on his back. The covers were pulled up over him, and Edward started for the door. He left the apartment, letting the heavy door slam behind him.

Sitting up swiftly, he finally gathered the strength to wake up. Hunched over, he stared into the darkness, panting from an adrenaline rush that came a minute too late. Tears welled in his eyes as the fear sunk in, realizing how many horrifying things could’ve just happened, but all Edward decided to do was lay him in his own bed. Jumping up, he turns the lamp on and begins rummaging through Edward’s drawers, stealing boxers and a pair of sweatpants he had to roll up around his ankles. He found a hoodie crumpled up on the floor, and holding it to his face he could tell how much it stunk, but he threw it on anyway. Grabbing his sandals from the bathroom, he runs out of the apartment, searching for Edward.

He returned to his old habit of stalking people in the street, keeping himself at a distance as Edward traversed the nearly empty streets. Holding his breath, he hid behind buildings with each block he passed, making sure there was no possibility of him being found. The process was excruciating and never ending. Every block began to look the same, as if despite walking for nearly 30 minutes straight got him nowhere. He thought to himself how much he’d rather be back at the apartment, in the bed Edward so graciously let him sleep in, but there was no way he could sleep knowing this was his only chance to learn the truth. He didn’t care if following Edward led him to the pits of hell. It would be worth it to be closer with him.

Eventually Edward reached his destination, allowing Mitch to finally catch his breath. He recognized the area they stopped at, it was right next to the cafe. Edward entered a dingy old hotel across the street from it, leaving Mitch pondering what reason he had in going there. Maybe he wanted to sleep somewhere else for the night, because he didn’t trust him enough to sleep around him. The only other option he could rationalize was that Edward was secretly an escort, and that’s why he’s so elusive about what he does.

As he watched Edward disappear into the elevator inside, he stepped back, eyeing the building’s windows up and down, waiting to see which room had its lights flicked on. His heart raced, standing on the corner, shaking with anticipation as he finally saw a room with fire escape access light up. Leaping from his spot, he ran up to the fire escape, clawing up the brick wall to the ladder. It took some trial and error but eventually he hooked his hands and feet on the ladder, and he slowly climbed upward. Crawling up the steps in a spiral, his limbs shook like leaves and sweat accumulated in his palms. Scaling structures like this was familiar to him, but no matter how many times he did it, he always felt sick with fear. The fire escape was rusty and creaky, making him have to climb incredibly slowly to not make noise. Reaching the window he was after, he noticed the blinds were drawn, only allowing light to pass through. Just like the rest of the building, both the glass and frame of the window was dingy and fragile.

He pressed his palms against the glass, using friction to force the window open at a snail's pace. With a bit of elbow grease, it budged, allowing him to coax it open. Just as it cracked open, he could feel someone on the other side pulling it up by the latch. Immediately, he jumped down, hiding against the wall under the window, foolishly hoping it would grant any sort of hiding. He curled up, shutting his eyes tightly and he listened to the window snap open in place. Pathetically, his body trembled as the back of his shirt was grabbed firmly, pulling him up as if he were a cat being held by its scruff. He was pulled into the window and thrown onto the floor in a swinging motion.

Sitting up with his head hanging low, could feel the presence of the assailant. Slowly, he looked up at the figure overshadowing him. Eyes wide with disbelief, his heart palpitated as he recognized the symbol painted on the coat, and the mask obscuring the man’s face. His breath was slow and heavy, and his eyes beamed through the mask, conveying an unrecognizable emotion. Mitch laughed, knowing it was the worst possible moment for it, but the irony of the whole situation made him feel like an idiot. All this time he spent obsessing over Edward for seemingly no reason, and at the same time idolizing The Riddler. Sometimes he wished that they were one in the same, but his better judgment rationalized against it. It turned out, his instincts were right all along. Tears streamed down his face as his noises turned into sobs.

The Riddler reached down, painfully gripping his arms as he pulled his body up into a standing position. Mitch didn’t fight it, allowing him to be held in place, arms firmly held against his body as fingers dug into his skin, bruising him. “I should’ve slammed the door on your face. Ungrateful bitch,” The Riddler hissed through his mask.

Mitch trembled in his grasp, feeling the need to run away, but losing feeling in his legs. “I can explain,” he croaked, barely coherent.

“No need. You think turning me in will make your life better somehow. You really think you’ll get your job back by doing this? By turning on your kin? Someone just as despicable as you? They already threw you away, and you’ll be dumb enough to let them do it again and again,” he rants, inching his face closer as his mask grazes the side of the other’s face. Mitch pulled his head away, feeling his hot breath on his neck. He focused on his surroundings, trying to avoid the confrontation at hand. It was a filthy, cluttered mess. The walls, desks, and floors were covered with papers. Multiple screens lit up the room, and unidentifiable objects were scattered everywhere. In the background there were the sounds of a cage rattling along with animalistic squeals. To accompany the sounds was the smell of feces and urine.

“I wanted to see you,” it was so difficult to speak. Between the rotten smell and choking on the lump in his throat, Mitch felt like the air was being sucked from his lungs.

“I know you have an ulterior motive. That’s why I’m not letting you leave.” He broods.

Mitch exhaled deeply, relaxing his body in The Riddler’s clawed hands. He became limp, and stopped trembling. “If you’re going to kill me, please just get it over with. I’m tired,” he whispered weakly. “I just want you to know you saved my life,” his voice cracked.

“What?” he reacts in utter confusion, blinking rapidly with furrowed brows behind the eyeholes of his mask.

“When they released me from Arkham, they just left me to my own devices. I didn’t have anywhere to go. My landlord was supposed to keep my place on hold until my release, but since I was kept there past the set date without any official documentation, they gave it to someone else,” he confessed, punctuating his sentences with heavy breaths. “They gave me my job back, at least, but I was completely broken and living on the streets, so they let me go,” tears started pouring from Mitch’s eyes, but he wasn’t able to sob. He had a distant, cold stare, not looking at the man holding him hostage. “I thought there wasn’t a point in living anymore. I knew the world would never change. My own father couldn’t change his mind. He still wouldn’t help me when I was on my last leg to stand on. He slammed the fucking door on my face, seeing me filthy and bruised, pleading for help.” The Riddler’s grip softened until he let go of the other man, letting him slowly fall to the floor on his knees, not having the mental strength to stand on his own. “I didn’t think there was any hope for the world until I found out about The Riddler. You were the only person I’ve ever seen trying to honestly fix the world. If you think the world would be better without me in it, I will accept my fate. If you want to be the one who kills me, I’m at least glad it’s you of all people.” Mitch fell deeper, curling his back until his forehead hit the floor between the other’s feet. He was curled up on the ground, either in a fetal position, or bowing.

Edward kneeled onto his knees, holding Mitch’s wrists, helping him to sit up. “I won’t kill you,” he states matter of factly, still holding onto the other’s wrists. “All I want is to keep you here. I can’t have you following me around all the time. All it’ll do is cause trouble for both of us, especially me,” his tone became gentle, but still commanding. “You wanna be around me so bad? You’re in luck. You’re not leaving this room until I say so.”

Suddenly, Mitch lunges into him, causing him to flinch, but soon realizing it's a hug. Unsure how to reciprocate, he places a hand on his back firmly. “Thank you,” he’s finally sobbing again, holding onto Edward like he’s the last thing keeping him grounded. He cries into his shoulder, tears rolling down the material of his jacket, staining it. He’s unable to notice he’s suffocating himself in Edward’s chest, until he runs out of air and pulls away with a gasp, remembering that he’s still alive.

#edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #paul dano riddler #dano riddler #the riddler #the batman #riddler x reader #danonation #danocel #paul dano

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crayonpac · 6 months

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Long time, no post.

If you're here, and I have no idea why you would be, you've probably read something bad about me from when I was in middle/high school years ago that my stalker or groomer and their friends posted on a callout blog that has genuinely ruined my life.

A few things first.

Don't call me Tr!ckster or T%ny. I consider both of those deadnames.

Please don't use they/them for me. My only pronouns systemwide are it/its. Please don't call me a person, call me a thing. If you can't do that you don't get to talk about me.

Most of the people I was friends with during the events of the callout, like @raystarkitty , I have cut ties with.

For the love of god, please don't reupload or edit any pictures or gifs of my dog or pictures of my face.

I'm not going to sit here and act like I'm not innocent, because as someone who had a chance to grow up a little I realized that I did hurt quite a few people.

To those people, I am genuinely sorry and if you want an apology this inbox will be open for a bit if you'd like to ask for one. I am not going to message anyone spontaneously because I want to respect boundaries. There are also some people I will never apologize to.

I also realized a lot of people who were and weren't involved were totally weird about me being an edgelord about all this. A lot of people who were involved or wanted to see The Drama™ were generally cruel and really fucking racist towards me.

I get that some of the things I actually did, like bothering a few people who genuinely didn't deserve it, was wrong, but there was no reason to edit my skin white or go to where I used to live and go to school and take photos looking inside the windows of my bedroom at the time, and posting my number on here and kiwifarms.

There's a lot more things that have happened, including several people trying (and succeeding) to contact my abusive family or call CPS on a friend of mine because I said "hi" to their kid on call every once and awhile, or purposefully using my very much real schizophrenia and OCD against me regarding numbers and false doomsdays and using my very obscure trigger and CSA trauma against me.

That was fucking weird to do to someone who was barely out of high school.

I could sit here and talk about how the blog came up with a mirad of false accusations, like the many involving me abusing my 13yo ESA or me sexually assaulting people, some I haven't met IRL ever, or how I am allegedly faking my disability despite there being recorded proof of me being a victim of police brutality.

The entirety of @herocallout and @stationarchive was a smear campaign that never attempted to do research into what accusations were true, and which weren't. They wanted quantity over quality in regards to testimonials.

Because, yes. The abusive woman who raised me DID know about the blog, and submit to it, and check it frequently. My college at the time has pulled me in for questioning about posts about I'm apparently a nazi despite converting to Judaism. This very much had an impact on my offline life and still does.

I'm not saying any of my actions were okay, especially the ones I actually committed. I am quite literally not the person I was when the events of that blog unfolded (because we're a system and that alter was integrated with therapy). I'm also not going to say that I'm the only victim.

Hopefully the few people that were involved that shouldn't have been have moved on and gotten better and I apologize again for my actions. I can't change the past, but I hope you can recover.

I'm not going to link my other socials because I don't want to be harassed. Have a good one, I guess.

#crayonpack #tricksterexe #herocallout #cuppytowncity #kidcore #the talking toon

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 10 months

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By: Abigail Shrier

Published: Jun 3, 2023

I began my talk in a suburb of Tel Aviv last week, as I always do, by scanning the audience for trouble. In the second row, a tall woman sporting a flat-top and a decidedly non-binary aspect, stared fixedly at some middle distance, something apparently on her mind. A few questions in, she rushed the stage, backpack slung over one shoulder, arm extended like a jousting lance: “Mrs. Shrier! I was wondering if you would shake my hand.”

I thought I held still, but videos don’t lie: I hopped back in my seat, while I waited for security to wrestle her to the ground. “I am a person! I am not a disease!” she cried again and again, in an accent I know as well as my own: American.

Does Israel have a Gender Ideology problem? From the many concerned parents of daughters who have contacted me over the last year, I gather it does. Gender Ideology is undoubtedly an American export, though that’s of little consolation to the frightened parents in Ra'anana and Tel Aviv—or for that matter, so many cities in Spain and France and elsewhere across the West where young people watch “Euphoria” and march for George Floyd.

So why poke the bear? Why travel to Tel Aviv, one of the world’s most left-leaning cities, where hundreds marched against the publication of my book, Irreversible Damage, in Hebrew, blaring horns and pounding bass drums? Why speak out in leftist hotspots like Tel Aviv—so many people asked me—when there are perfectly rational cities like Jerusalem, where I could meet fans and make common cause? The questioners often imply the reaction is my fault—that I am deliberately causing trouble.

A mistake lies at the heart of this question, a false conceit borne of metaphors like tides, and pendulums and fashion fossils like bellbottoms: That if we all stay quiet, the trans extremism will swing back or die down, like feathered bangs and breakdancing.

Gender Ideology is not a pendulum, and it will not swing back with a little help from inertia. Gender Ideology is a fundamentalist religion—intolerant, demanding strict adherence to doctrine, hell-bent on gathering proselytes. I do not here use the term “religion” metaphorically or lightly.

Gender Ideology is a fundamentalist religion—intolerant, demanding strict adherence to doctrine, hell-bent on gathering proselytes.

Induction into this religion begins with a baptism: the selection of pronouns and often a new name, greeted with all the celebration (and more) of a conversion. It evangelizes aggressively: through social media influencers, who claim to know a teen’s truest self better than her parents and to love that teen so much more than they ever could. Therapists, teachers, and school counselors play evangelist to numberless kids at American school.

There’s no physical evidence that any of us possesses an ethereal gender identity, of course. It may actually be disprovable; there is a good deal of evidence against it. No matter. The adherents take it on faith. The notion that each of us is born with a gender identity, utterly separable from our physiology, known only to us, imagines gender identity as the secular version of the ‘soul.’

Gender ideology is policed by blasphemy laws. Gender identity is the secular version of the ‘soul.’

Gender Ideology is policed by blasphemy laws – like those passed in California and New York, which assign criminal and civil penalties to healthcare workers who intentionally misgender patients and landlords who intentionally misgender tenants. And outside of statutory law, most social media services will quickly exile you if you’re caught blaspheming (ie. misgendering, deadnaming et al.). College campuses enforce these blasphemy laws with such smug severity, they are rarely violated. Much as the instances of public blasphemy in Mecca round down to zero.

Adherents to the gender orthodoxy reserve their greatest ire for apostates, “detransitioners,” those who once identified as ‘transgender’ before reversing course and resume identification with their biological sex. The level of ostracism and hatred detransitioners face in America today would be familiar to anyone who has tried to leave a close-knit orthodox faith community.

And, finally, Gender Ideology is full of holidays—one or two in every calendar month, except August. (No need for a celebration - it seems - when there is no school.) These are regarded with all the sanctity of religious festivals. As in, “I can’t believe Abigail would schedule her talk just before Pride Month.” All major institutions are expected – or is it compelled? – to celebrate Pride by changing their logos to incorporate the look of the Pride flag. They don’t do that for any other holiday – not even Christmas.

All of which is to say, Gender Ideology is not a tide, and it will not turn with the gravitational pull of the moon.

Its adherents were willing to threaten every venue in Tel Aviv that dared host a talk by me and demand that Israel’s few dominant book chains refuse to carry my book. (Amazon commands a negligible slice of the book market there.) Much like the Amazon and Spotify employees in America who quit over the companies’ refusal to delete my book or interviews, it is insufficient for adherents to criticize me or decline to read my book themselves: they demand a world in which no one can hear my sacrilege, read my writings, or obtain my book.

All of which is to say, Gender Ideology is not bellbottoms or feathered bangs. It is no pendulum, and it will not swing back with a little help from inertia. It is not a tide, and it will not turn with the gravitational pull of the moon.

That isn’t bellbottoms. It’s not even similar to other raucous debates in America, like those over abortion or gun control. When Gender Ideology remakes American institutions in its image and polices their language, it represents the establishment of Shariah Law. Societies policed by religious law don’t abandon it on their own.

So why do so many Americans believe this ‘tide’ will turn? Because the adherents excel at deceit.

Consider, in the last year, the moments in which Liberal and Left publications like New York Times appeared to have broken ranks, finally allowing publication of important pieces that defended J.K. Rowling three years after she was pilloried across the globe for daring to reject gender orthodoxy. Or the recent pieces admitting the risks of gender medicine, two and half years after my book pointed out those same risks, and more than a year after England, Finland, France and Sweden all halted or curtailed pediatric gender treatments because of them. These pieces do not represent the start of genuine debate at publications that all but refused it, and they ought not to be misinterpreted as such.

They are a pawn sacrifice, offered with an eye toward winning a larger war. Conservatives like Tucker Carlson, who one once hosted the highest-rated cable news show among both Republicans and Democrats, placed pressure on establishment media in the form of millions of viewers. When enough heat gathers in the kitchen, even the New York Times must crack open a window.

So why do so many Americans believe this ‘tide’ will turn? Because the adherents excel at deceit.

But Tucker is gone, banished from cable news, and the true believers who were never interested in debate will insist their publications turn away from it once more. They tie off a limb when they must, cut loose from their more embarrassing losses, air token dissent, and return to fight another day. Consolidate their wins. Concede the absolute minimum, and only after it is so obvious that they are propounding a lie, that it would be ruinous to stay the course. This is a tactical pivot, not retreat, and it does not signify a new era of real debate on these issues in mainstream media or elite institutions.

When I published Irreversible Damage three years ago, I predicted that medical malpractice lawsuits would end the social contagion and irresponsible disaster of pediatric gender medicine. I’m no longer so sure. As of now, too few doctors are willing to testify in trials. Always the same handful of names—the courageous and honorable few—against a growing legion of ideologue “experts,” newly-minted and prepared to die on the sword of ideas so fanciful, only the True Believer could hold them.

If Gender Ideology (or Wokeism -- that constellation of extreme, academically-birthed progressive orthodoxies -- more generally) were a pendulum, DEI administrators hired in staggering numbers, would be let go. Conservative faculty would be recruited by academic departments, and conservative students, wooed to campus with new programs. States like California would repeal laws that allow male felons to self-identify into women’s prisons. Girls would again be permitted to flourish on the field and in the Olympic pool, and made safe in their changing rooms once more.

We aren’t likely to see those reversals. Not until concessions are compelled by those with equal conviction in counterpoise.

They are the stakes. I speak to audiences to the tune of a ticking clock: so many gender evangelists graduating medical school and law school, attaining degrees in social work, and ascending to the bench.

So no, I don’t love the sensation of young people screaming in my face. But there is something I fear more than the furor of hundreds of zealots, blaring horns and banging bass drums: the world they aim to create, where truth finds no foothold and fairness, no purchase.

#Abigail Shrier #Irreversible Damage #gender ideology #queer theory #cult of woke #wokeism #wokeness #wokeness as religion #woke #gender cult #religion #gendered soul #ethereal soul #gender atheist #sexed soul #gender thetans #religion is a mental illness

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hoperays-song · 1 year

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Rant/Vent

TW: Transphobia and Current State of Trans Rights in the US

I hate holidays. Because sitting in a room of people who pretend to care about trans rights while not doing anything to help them, while continuing to misgender and deadname me after four years, while saying that it’s not that bad in the US, while saying it’s wrong for me to flee for my own safety, while saying that no one is actively trying to kill trans people, is fucking terrifying. They know nothing on the matter and say that I’m being a “pretentious prick” for telling them information on the matter. They say there isn’t a genocide against trans people. They say we’re exaggerating.

I’m sorry but trans kids are being taken from their families. Trans people can be arrested for dressing like themselves. Books with trans rep are being taken off shelves. Hundreds of bills are proposed that would ban us from existing. Countries are now offering up asylum to transgender Americans.

No trans person I know doesn’t have an escape route planned. We’re being killed, wiped out from existence. We are terrified.

I have had to hold my kids and tell them that if worst comes to worst I will get them out no matter what. I’ve had them send me photos of go bags asking if “will this be enough?” I go to my classes everyday scared that will be the last time I ever do. I have a group of seven I have made a plan to get to the border with. I’ve been given death threats within the past week to my face. Sure, as my bio family said, some areas aren’t “as bad” but no 13 year old should have to be making escape plans. No one should. No one should be fearing for their lives instead of just living them.

We are stage 7 of a genocide. And I’m tired of only trans people caring.

#trans #trans genocide #transgender #im so so fucking scared #and I’m trying to hold it together for my kids but I’m terrified #just because it’s worse in other places doesn’t mean what’s going on is ok #ranting and venting #this is the reason I changed my last name #i’m tired of this shit #they don’t get to pretend to care when they still misgender me and deadname me after all these years #i hate holidays

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lucidicer · 1 year

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15 questions for 15 mutuals!!

thank u @stinkrascal for the tag!!! 🫂💗

1. are you named after anyone?

no for both my deadname and my chosen name pff

2. when was the last time you cried?

happy to say i genuinely don't remember, i find that even when i'm not doing well i don't tend to cry as much as i used to

3. do you have kids?

no, god forbid

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

hmmm yes a bit too much to be honest. for someone who struggles to pick up on sarcasm myself i really do use it A LOT

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

i played rugby, basketball, hockey, football, badminton in high school. i still love rugby and hockey <3

6. what's the first thing you notice about other people?

facial expression ig? like my sister brought a friend over the other day and the only thing i can remember abt her is the facial expression when she said hi to me

7. eye colour?

green but also brown but also yellow

8. scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings is way too broad to be put against scary movies like?? that exists in every genre ever dude there are scary movies with happy endings 🧍

9. any special talents?

i got nothing 💀 umm

10. where were you born?

northern england 🥱

11. what are your hobbies?

u see i'm one of those people that forget everything they enjoy the second they are asked this question....um i play video games, watch twitch, read, have several collections

12. do you have any pets?

yess my little baby cora :)

13. how tall are you?

165cm but also that could be wrong ive been told im also 150cm so 🤷

14. fave subject in school?

history, art and woodworking!!

15. dream job?

as someone incapable of work this is ummm.......yeah i got nothing i cannot think of a single job i would enjoy

im gonna tag @retro-plasma @uncanee-valley @peonypyxels @arcanewonder @softerhaze @hi-land @hazelminesims @literalite @desertdusk @orphyd @cottageivy @mattodore @zohrou @cowplant-pizza @cinamun feel free to ignore 🫶 + tag urself if u want to do this!!!

#i love answering lil questions abt myself like im telling u all my secrets #olli.txt

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

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kinda missed the train bc time zones but i just want to say that people angry at tommy for finding and using wilburs name (and comparing it to deadnaming? what? this is obviously so different) just cant appreciate the beauty of your writing

you write messy human characters in situations with questionable moral rights and wrongs, even if this was their first bones fic did they just forget the part where wil tried to kill tommy?

you write from one pov and work so amazingly with the unreliable narator prospects its so cool to read and so interesting to brainrot about

you write a lot of metaphors which is just something im obsessed with, especially the way youre so consistent with them, just like in stars with the sea and pillar, you continously describe wilburs most inner emotions as a bird in a cage and how the bird perks up at hearing the name wilbur while wilburs monologue is against it shows what was beaten into him and how he "wilbur" actually feels about it

also i know that a lot of people expected (and some wanted) a name reveal in the form of wilbur trusting tommy enough to tell him himself (i also expected this ngl) but looking at it, it feels so much out of character for glass!wil at least for a long while, hes nowhere near the amount of trust or even of knowing how much his training for the pythia was to be bale to tell anyone his name and in the situation hes in, kidnapped and in a group of people with completely different religion, i dont think theres space for him to get to that mental space in a completely healthy and right way

tommy finding out on his own and starting to use it on the other hand is just so much like glass!tommy, bc you can see how hes doing it bc he believes it wil help wilbur bc he knows how wrong it is that he was forced to foresay his own name, but also not telling the other deathlings bc he knows that the best way would be for wilbur to tell them himself

honestly im so glad it went like this bc it feels so justificating and deserving from characterisation and storytelling point, not throwing away all the built up trauma and messy relationships and all the mistakes that were made just for some quick and cheap comfort

instead of quick cheap hurt/comfort or angst you get a precisely and amazingly crafted deep and thought out story with deep and full chartacters that feel so human and its THE BEST THING EVER I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH BEE

and im sorry some people cant appreciate it and cant shut up about not being able to do so

lmao you get it i write messy human characters and also wilbur literally tried to kill tommy. this wasn't a breech of trust or anything they didn't have any trust beforehand.

kldsjfkld aaa you're so sweet though!! I'm so glad you like the one pov thing. It's genuinely my favorite way to write long stories now because it makes things so much more interesting to me. unreliable narrator is impossible to avoid when you only have a single pov going on and that's the fun part!!

so so happy you like the metaphors too. I definitely worry sometimes I'm overusing them, but I also like the consistency and the way it gives me a space to explain wilbur's emotions in a way that avoids just saying "he felt sad" or something. it makes it more interesting to describe and can be used in a lot of different ways so it's very fun for me

you see you get it!! there was no way he was gonna reach that place in a healthy way, at least not anytime soon. I know that everyone was expecting the soft reveal moment of wilbur telling tommy his name himself, but that's exactly why I didn't go with it. because subverting that expectation makes things a lot more interesting in terms of how it'll develop from there. it just makes the most sense with the characterization and everything to me so tysm <33

this made me smile a whole lot to read :D

#ask #jiksvokrat #through a glass divine

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talisidekick · 1 year

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I'm making this a blog post because this is long and serves a purpose. The following image is a response to this post:

[For those that are blind,having picture loading/comprehension difficulty, or using an auto-reader for convenience; User @lunathewafflelord replied in the comments:

"I just discovered the TERF side of Tumblr and I'm actually terrified and disgusted and I already wasn't feeling good (crying face emoji) beautiful alien's pinned post and the comments on it disgusted me so much (wry face via colon and a back-slash) Terfs are already bad, but saying they're proud PROUD to be a terf is even worse (angry face emoji)"

End Description]

@lunathewafflelord I don't know if she reblogged my post or not because beautiful alien got blocked. I have at the time of writing this post exactly 6 people on my blog total that are blocked for actively attacking me in person. I have no problem with my points getting debated. I'm more than happy to go toe to toe in my asks, or reblogs (if I catch them, as this blog post absolutely obliterates every other post I've ever made and my notifications are FILLED with people reblogging and liking so other reblogs may get missed) because the point isn't to educate the reblogger, it's to educate the audience of the discourse. But when you resort to insults or threats or purposely degrading responses, I consider the debate over. I've won and proved a more rational mind backed the statements made into a corner to the point where the only option for continuation is to try and get personal, which would be childish and immature to continue at that point. It's like trying to tell a kid that oxygen and 2 hydrogen make H20, which is water, and after losing the debate that "water" is it's own element like Iron (Fe) the child goes "well you smell" like that puts them in the right. You simply smile and ignore them, because they'll just have to live with the fact they're wrong and it'll sink in eventually or it won't, but to those present for the debate and critically thinking or curious it's clear who has the facts, knowledge, and experience. I don't know if I pinned her post on accident or not, I'm unable to remove any pin without unblocking her and potentially subjecting me to more of her uninspired regurgitation of misinformation and conjecture. I am similarly not up for any of that. I'm sorry if I pinned something shitty.

Now, I've gone through beautiful alien's tumblr and she isn't the only one out there that thinks like this, and while using her as an example I must state: do not attack her with death threats, insinuations of suicide, or any other remarks of conducting acts of self harm. Some people already have, and if you are within the 2slgbtqia+ community, even as an ally, then please stop. Don't comment directly, don't do it in anonymous asks, not even on dummy accounts. We're better than that. I get multiple messages telling me to kill myself a month, we don't need to stoop to their level of dehumanizing hatred.

I'm sorry what you saw in the comments of a very important message about supporting trans folk and their choices to get misgendered and deadnamed in public or in front of certain people regardless of how safe or open you might think/know the person to be was a wall of transphobia. I wasn't shocked myself, but it can be jarring when you're excited and uplifted by post that explains something clearly for the benefit of yourself that you can share to friends, family, etc. to explain without putting as much effort as I did to form my fears and worries into words.

Please remember these terfs aren't stating facts but beliefs that actively hurt, harm, and cause a high degree of mental distress. You are not obligated to respond to, combat against, or disprove them. You have only one obligation and that's to live as your best self. To show care and kindness to those in need that you feel safe extending a hand to. These people seek to hurt others by denying critical mental-health care to people and spreading lies to promote harm, and you don't need to fight them in any other way than existing in total opposition to their established rhetoric. If they call you a predator, exist as a protector. They call us evil, then be the force for good many of us never had in our lives growing up. Leave the debates for those willing to have them.

If someone tries to debate your existence, just say "no" and shut them down before they get started. My response when I don't have the mental capacity to fight the next random enemy in this dialog-battle RPG that this life seems to be is to laugh like it's a joke they even try. To make it seem ridiculous and walk on. You don't need to engage in that mental strain if it's not for you.

Sometimes, we fight by living by example. Sometimes, we just need to live our lives to prove them wrong. Trans isn't about perfectly formed fact referenced arguments, rallies, protests, and demonstrations, it's about living your best life to smile happily, make other smile and let them be safe in your presence, to discover yourself and live your way. Some of us live our life enjoying the aspects of debate, but don't for a moment think you have to partake. Ignore them, and go find happiness.

#trans #transgender #2slgbtqia+#lgbtq+#lgbt+#queer #trans positivity #mtf #ftm

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powerrangersystem · 1 year

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So, we just got out of the psych hospital. We were there for 10 days. We shouldn't have been there at all, or if we did need it, we only needed it for about 3 days. But the doctor refused to let us out any sooner than 10 days. It was a terrible experience and completely upended our system. We are currently dealing with the fallout.

One of our parts made a poor decision and took some pills. They were not attempting anything--they just wanted a nap. But our therapist said we needed to make sure we were medically okay, so we went to the hospital. The hospital did not understand DID and decided to send us to the psych ward "for the weekend".

When we got to the ward we were told by the weekend doctor we could leave on Monday, but on Monday the regular doctor had given us a discharge date of 10 days before anyone from our treatment team ever met us. He would absolutely not hear any argument against this and told us that if we tried to sign ourselves out (we were voluntary), he would get a court order and take us to court to keep us there.

My outpatient team called the hospital every single day trying to talk to someone to recommend we be discharged earlier. They were hung up on and given the run around every time.

The hospital was not equipped to treat us--they were not trauma informed at all and nobody understood DID. We were told multiple times that they only wanted to talk to {deadname}, who is dormant... and that we were confusing them. We were also shamed for having self harm scars and not fed appropriately because we have a specific diet (we ended up losing nearly 10 lbs in 10 days).

I spoke with the patient advocate and explained it to her. She said she would advocate for me, but the doctor later told me that she recommended they get a court order if I tried to sign an AMA. I also talked to my case manager and therapist and they both did advocate for me to be discharged earlier, but the doctor did not care.

I have been to the psych ward several times before and never had such a terrible experience. It caused a lot of chaos in our system. I (Rey--co-host) literally disappeared for a full day out of stress and then couldn't come out for more than an hour or two the entire rest of the time.

We also weren't the only ones having a bad time. Another girl was given a court order when she tried to sign out and they lied on her paperwork saying she had social problems, slept all day, and didn't eat, none of which was true.

I felt totally helpless and out of control. I had no agency and felt completely unsafe for 10 full days. We were all in fight or flight the entire time. Now, we are having nightmares and flashbacks, problems with destructive coping mechanisms, and rapid switches. We cannot get back into our routine. We have had therapy every day since we were discharged, but we are still struggling so much.

This experience was truly terrible. I am angry and upset and so are my outpatient team. I am not writing this to dump on psych wards. I have had really good experiences in them before and they serve a very important purpose when they are needed. I am just writing this to get it off my chest and vent a little.

Ultimately we'll be okay, but this has probably caused us to never ask for this kind of help in the future whether we need it or not. It has ruined the purpose of psych wards for us and it was not necessary. My therapist has said she will file a report and help us file one as well. Other people we met there are talking about getting the media involved (there were many other issues I haven't mentioned, such as being left on the unit with no techs and having very little programming at all).

Okay, rant over. Thanks for letting me shout into the void for a minute.

#personal #psych ward #psych hospital

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lynnedwardswrites · 1 year

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OC Naming Tag

rules: take your main characters (or whoever your favorites are) and vote whether they fit the meaning of their name or not

Got this from an open tag. If you would like to play, be my guest!! It's hard to know who uses real world vs totally made up names.

Pretty sure I've given all of my main characters intentionally apt names, but lets find out, haha.

Isabella Morgenstern

Isabella: "God is my oath"

This was an intentionally ironic name for my protag, because in the symbolic undertext of the story, "God" is her father. As a child she was absolutely dedicated to her father. She loved him, wanted every ounce of his approval, tried her hardest to do everything he asked of her, fully believing that he always had her best interests at heart. But... then he betrayed her in a big way and she's since kinda sworn herself against her father. But on the flip side, an "oath" or a "swear" can sometimes be something you curse by, instead of revere, so in that way I guess "God" still is her oath...

Morgenstern: "Morning Star"

Yeah this is absolutely a Lucifer reference. She's her father's fallen morning star, rebelling against the will of heaven. Apt. 👌

Creed Hearst

Creed: "a system of religious belief; a faith" (Alt: Credence: "belief in or acceptance of something as true.")

Creed's story is all about soul-filling dedication and trust (before and after betrayal), and it's also about figuring out what you believe is true, outside of what other people have taught you, including overcoming the consequences of prior dedication to static religious credos. It's about shedding an old creed and building a new one. :)

Hearst: "thicket of trees"

This is interesting to me, because I chose Hearst as a Patty Hearst reference (a woman who was kidnapped by a very violent rebel group and later joined them, possibly due to brainwashing, which is kinda what Creed's old military group assumes happened to him when he discovered they were corrupt and ditched them, and kinda what Creed assumes happened to himself when he thinks about his time among their numbers). One of the big questions of Creed's story is who's been brainwashing who, whether Creed's mind is and has ever been his own, and how it feels to be part of something you genuinely believe is true, only to discover it's all a huge lie.

The name Hearst was given to Creed when he was taken custody by the military group and put through their school as a child, and when he left it became a deadname for him. So the idea that the name and the belonging it represented is/was a thicket for him, something getting in the way of seeing the truth, is pretty cool.

Luther Morgenstern

Luther: "army people"

This is hilarious because I named him after the religious reformer, Martin Luther, but Luther's entire backstory is that his conquering warlord of a father sent him on a major military campaign where he failed horribly and tons of people died so. He probably likes his own name about as much as his daughter does.

Morgenstern: "morning star"

Yeah, Luther was his father's fallen one just like Isabella is her father's. And they both end up acting against the Church in one way or another. <3 Also Lucifer is the greatest, most compelling figure in the entire Christian mythos so who wouldn't want to be named after him???

Ines Barbaron

Ines: "pure, holy, chaste"

LOL In Ines's first scene, she shows up naked to a business meeting. She is the book's #1 slut, and Creed is already a huge slut himself. I could not have asked for a better name.

Barbaron: intended to sound like "barbarian"

This is the actual reference to her carnal ways, hahaha

Nic Winter

Nic/Nichole: "victory of the people"

Hmmmm..... well, she and the rest of the people she represents will be free and therefore victorious one day...

Winter: the season

Cold, icy, steeled. Nic is one of a very few number of women who have forced her way in and up through the Wolfguard ranks, and she's had to be super masculine-conforming to do it, so. Yeah?

Solomon Holman

Solomon: "peace" (Alt: Sol: "sun")

Intended as a reference to King Solomon, known for wisdom, but both peace and wisdom are intended to be ironic meanings for Holman. His dedication to "peace" leads him to ignore oppression and harm, which leads to even more oppression and harm. Not very wise.

On the other hand, he is a genuinely warm and friendly guy, for the sun meaning. Two sides of the coin.

Holman: "holy man" "whole man" or "dweller on an island"

The holy and whole meanings are also ironic, but I love the "island dweller" meaning, too. He's so far removed from reality as to be very, very stupid.

#ok this was fun #i love interesting names with double meanings #tag games #the hare and the jackal

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seconds-not-decades · 2 years

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Step {Back} In Time

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem! OC

Author's Note: Hello and welcome. This is my season two fic (and sequel to Time and Chase). I will be posting daily. *Please note that I am well aware that Elliot Page portrays Viktor, but due to season two being before his transition, that is why his character is still Vanya. I am not deadnaming him and I sincerely hope I don't come across as such. I will transition when I write season three.*

Warnings: Slightly long post, cursing, violence, lots of blood, and mention of death.

Previous | Next

Öga For Öga

~ * ~

On April the 1st, 2019, the Earth was destroyed in a cataclysmic event.

Billions of people were wiped out in a matter of minutes.

Ironically, the seven survivors of the apocalypse were the very family members who brought it on.

~ * ~

1982

Five and Karina made their way to the hotel, with Five reading the paper to make sure they were at the right place. More or less time period. The two slipped inside the hotel, surrounded by people dressed in some European folk attire.

"Excuse me," Five went over to a lady near the front desk.

"Uff da!" she shot up quickly. "You two snuck up on me there. If you're looking for the cookies, we don't put 'em out till 3:00."

"I can hardly wait," Five dryly returned.

"Uh, ma'am, do you happen to know where the Midwest Soybean Society is meeting?" Karina inquired sweetly.

The lady smiled at her fondly. "Sure do, honey bun. Muskellunge Banquet Room. You two looking for your mom? She in for the convention?"

"Hey, could I get some change?" Five noticed the vending machine in the hall behind her, holding out a few bills.

"Oh, sure, I'll just look in my purse," the lady took it as Karina gave him a sideways look. The lady exhaled softly when she pulled out some coins. "Only a nickel and a couple of dimes. Oh! You…are…in…luck, mister." She placed the coins in his hand and chuckled softly.

"You know, some say the best luck is to die at the right time," Five told her out of the blue.

The lady stared at him speechlessly before he meandered away to the vending machine.

"I…am so sorry. You'll have to excuse my boyfriend. He takes his poetry and literature very seriously," Karina lied to the poor woman before running off after Five.

Five was busily shaking the vending machine and yelling at it. "Stupid mother Fudge Nutter!" he slammed against it and cracked the glass. "Fuckin' Fudge Nutter!"

"How much damage are you going to inflict onto that poor vending machine?" Karina crossed her arms.

Five growled and stepped back to her side. "Why do I even bother with things anymore? Nothing ever goes according to plan."

"Mm, I think your marriage is holding up pretty well."

"It might be the only thing holding up compared to all the other shitstorms thrown at us."

"Let's just get this over, shall we?" Karina looked at him rather expectantly.

Five noticed she was shaking more than she would ever care to admit and he could sense her nerves clear across the room. He'd almost never seen her more afraid in his life. Nervous yes, uneasy, of course. But scared? She tried to hide her fear if anything else.

"Rina? What was the Handler talking about earlier?" he questioned, taking her firmly by the shoulders. "I need to know if you feel up to doing this."

Karina sighed. "It's a long story. I just never liked killing people. But, we need to get home and this is the only way to do it."

"Love-"

"We're wasting time, Five. I'm fine," she cut him off, but seeing the look on his face made her relent. "Okay, okay. She sent me out on a mission for something once, testing to see if I would make for a good field agent, because she thought about partnering us up. Well, it backfired, but I made it out and she decided against it in the end."

"Why was this never brought up to me? I could have helped you," Five was slightly upset now as they made their way to the meeting room.

"Because she didn't give me a choice and I didn't get the chance to tell you before she shoved me out of the nest," Karina heavily sighed, looking down whilst shaking her head. "And honestly, Five, after it happened, I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to forget it. Even the Handler didn't ever mention it after I got back."

"Did something happen to you?" he slowly looked at her.

Karina paused for a moment. "Yes," she quietly responded. "However, it's in the past and I'd love for it to stay there."

"I'm sorry. If you…ever want to talk about it again, just let me know," he took a breath.

She flashed him a ghost of a smile. The two continued walking to the meeting room, though Five eyed a large cake along the way and swiped his finger along the icing.

"That's sanitary of you," Karina scoffed as he licked the icing.

"Buttercream. Not bad," he spotted an axe hanging on the wall.

He grabbed the axe as Karina pulled out the dagger. The two stared at the doors and took a breath.

"Shall we make it rain?" Five glanced at Karina.

"Let's do it."

And with that, the two barged into the meeting room, weapons at the ready.

"Let's move on to article 17, please," AJ spoke as they entered. He gasped and shot up when he saw them. "You two!" he looked at Karina. "I thought you were only the Head of the briefcase division!"

"Decided to shake things up with a little help," Karina smirked.

"Call security!" AJ ordered as a woman hurried to the phone.

However, Five blinked over to her and cut her arm off as Karina threw her dagger, stabbing another. Gasps and screams erupted all around as the blood bath raged on. The two ruthlessly took out the Directors, stabbing and slicing their way through them without giving the members any last chance. One body was shoved through the ceiling and electricity crackled.

AJ shakily cowered down beneath the table as Five suddenly blinked onto the table with Karina. They were glaring down at him.

"She sent you two, didn't she?" AJ questioned.

"Does it really matter now?" Five scoffed.

"Whatever she offered you, I will double it, triple it!"

"We're not doing this for money," Karina stated as Five raised his axe.

The attendant from earlier came flying in, knocking both of them down as they crashed onto the ground.

"Get off me!" Five grunted, struggling to throw her off of him as Karina barely rolled out of the way.

"You're gonna pay for that vending machine, little mister!" she was fighting him.

"Yeah? I don't wanna hurt you, all right?"

"Hurt me? Oh, I ain't afraid of you, you little pus ball!"

Karina got to her feet and struck the woman in the back of her head with the handle of her dagger and knocked her unconscious. The lights were crackling above them as they looked around wildly to find that AJ escaped.

"Shit!" they both exclaimed, leaping to their feet.

They each grabbed a large paddle off the mantel before Five blinked them out. AJ was running down the hall when they reappeared in front of him and he gasped.

"Surely we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties!" he exclaimed. "Quid pro quo? What do you two say?"

Five scoffed. "Why not? Here's your quid-" he struck AJ in the side and he shrieked.

"Here's your pro!" Karina hit him in the knees and he groaned, collapsing to the floor.

Five lined up his paddle with the tank.

"No! No! Please don't!" AJ whimpered desperately.

"Here's your quo," Five finished.

"No…!" AJ wailed as Five's paddle smashed into the tank.

Water gushed out everywhere and the goldfish flailed onto the floor. His body fell down, thudding onto the ground.

Five and Karina let out a breath, covered in blood and hoping the price of their murder spree was worth paying.

~ * ~

The two were waiting impatiently in the alleyway. AJ was in a bag grasped by Five.

"Well?" the Handler appeared behind them. Five shoved his arm out and she gasped. "AJ!" she triumphantly cackled and cooed over the fish. She sighed, looking at Five. "You know, you're really starting to fill out those tight little shorts of yours." She glanced at Karina next. "And you are really starting to show off some serious potential in this field!" The Handler giggled as the couple glared at her. "Why so quiet? Thought you'd be buzzing after this morning's slaughter, especially since you did it together. Or is it like that one saying? Happy wife, happy life? Except…unhappy wife, unhappy life?" she chuckled at her own terrible joke.

"All this killing…I'm done with it," Five bit out. "And you have some nerve to send Rina out with me. More or less all those years ago, behind my back!"

The Handler was rather taken back by his outburst. "What? Am I supposed to take that seriously?" She whipped out a handkerchief and began dabbing away the blood on their faces.

"What we did today, we did for our family. We did it to save the world," he glared at her.

"Please. Spare me your little assassin with the heart of gold routine, will you?" the Handler remarked. "Here." She picked up the briefcase. "Per our agreement, this will get you, your wife, and your siblings back to 2019." She handed it to Karina. "You both have 90 minutes."

That caught their attention real quick as the Handler strolled off.

"You said nothing about a time limit!" Karina snapped.

"Actually, you have 89 minutes and 30 seconds, my lovely flower. Better hurry!"

"This is impossible, okay? My siblings are scattered across the city!" Five added desperately.

"Nothing's impossible. You two proved that this morning when you killed the board."

"We need more time!"

"Any more time, and people will start asking questions. The sooner you get home and out of this time period, the better off the three of us will be, so, ticktock, ticktock," the Handler softly said, almost menacingly.

Five looked like he was about to explode, but he shot her one last glare before blinking himself and Karina out. The two blinked inside the lobby of Elliot's place.

"Oh my God…" Karina pointed to the message written in blood on the floor.

"Shit," Five breathed out and the two quickly raced upstairs.

The two found a body with a cloth draped over it in a chair and he went over to investigate who it was. He drew down the cloth and the two hissed out in horror when they saw who it was.

"Elliot…" Karina drew out softly and sadly.

Five swallowed hard, staring down at him sorrowfully before wordlessly pulling the cloth back over him. The two began looking around for the rest of the family. Well, first they ducked down to properly and fully clean off the blood on their faces. They could hear Luther and Diego whispering.

"You will be dead by nightfall," Diego harshly threatened over the phone.

"Hey!" Five caught their attention. "It's Öga För Öga, idiots. Swedish for "an eye for an eye." It means the Swedes killed Elliott." He slid off his blazer as Karina took her jacket off.

"Wrong number. Have a lovely day," Diego said into the phone before slamming it onto the receiver.

Five sputtered some.

"We would've gotten there," Luther looked at Diego.

"Eventually."

"Yeah."

Five and Karina sighed, listening to the rather dumbfounded brothers.

Diego turned to them. "Uh, you two have some blood on you," Luther observed.

They slipped past them to the bathroom.

"A lot of blood, actually," Diego continued, watching them go.

"Five, Karina what did you do?" Luther was exasperated.

Karina shut the bathroom door on them and locked it.

"You guys better not plan on boning in there!" Diego loudly told them as the two brothers walked off.

That was not their plan at all. All they needed was to wash the blood out of their clothes so, they just opted to use the sink. Five let Karina go first, though she needed a shower more than anything so while she got a shower, he rinsed out the blood and dried her clothes as best as he could. The two switched positions once they were done. Once they were decent enough, Karina reopened the door.

"So we found a way home," Five announced as he redid his tie with Karina's help.

"What? How?" Luther questioned from outside the doorway.

"All the details are irrelevant, but…we made a deal to get back to our timeline," Karina responded, gently fixing Five's hair for a moment.

"What about doomsday?" Diego piped up.

"Won't happen," Five softly thanked Karina and plopped a kiss on her cheek.

"And the 2019 apocalypse?" Luther added.

"Everything will be back to normal. All right?" Karina assured them as the two left the bathroom.

"Now, no more questions. We gotta go," Five sighed. "We have to find the others, right?"

"Yeah," Luther replied.

"Luther, you get Allison."

"Okay."

"Diego, Klaus," Five pointed to him next. "We'll get Vanya."

"Now, we meet back in the arrival alley in 77 minutes," Karina continued as Five threw his blazer back on. "Here. I've synchronized these watches." She handed each of the boys a watch.

"Okay, let's do this," Luther was determined.

Diego however, was skeptical. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on! You two show up drenched in blood and expect us to believe everything's gonna go back to normal if we go home now?"

"Elliott just got killed because of us," Karina pointed out defensively.

"What about Dad? What about JFK?" Diego strode over to them coolly.

"Diego, we have a chance to go home and make things right. We are taking it," Five retorted, looking up at him in irritation.

"I have to say goodbye to Lila," he announced.

"Lila doesn't give a shit about you, Diego!" Five burst out in exasperation and Karina grabbed his shoulder, giving him a soft but warning look. "She never did. She's one of them," he continued a bit calmer.

"She's a member of the Commission," Karina looked at Diego sympathetically. She felt bad for him, truly.

He immediately shook his head. "No way. Not possible."

"She was just using you to get to us. You're the Oswald of this story, my friend. The goddamned patsy," Five turned and walked off.

"You don't know what you're talk-"

Five suddenly blinked in front of him, glaring up at him. "If you don't do this, I'll kill you myself. Got it?" he threatened him.

Diego coldly eyed him. Karina mouthed an apology to him before Five blinked them out.

~ * ~

Five and Karina were on their way to find his sister, when suddenly they ironically drove by her. Her and Five exchanged a stare and parked on the sides of the dirt road to converse.The three hurriedly got out and met in the middle.

"What are you two doing here?" Vanya asked.

"Looking for you. We're going back to 2019," Karina replied.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, we don't really have time to explain right now, but we found a way home. All right?" Five broke in, glancing at his watch. "We have 30 minutes to leave."

"What about my friends? I can't just leave them here," Vanya was taken back, stopping the two before they got back in their car.

"Vanya, you don't have a choice in this, all right? Doomsday will happen if you don't come with us."

"Okay, then I'm bringing them with me," she remarked.

Karina gave her a sad look.

"They belong in this timeline," Five heaved a breath.

"Says who? You get to take Karina everywhere!" Vanya shouted, making him look at her in slight shock and Karina winced from that. "Sissy deserves a life where she doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not. And Harlan? There's a name for what he has. We can get him the help he needs. If you can bring a plus one with you to every timeline, why can't I bring mine?"

"Because Rina is from our timeline. Not from any other. Ours. She doesn't belong here," Five explained coolly.

"Vanya-" Karina began.

"Look, a mom and her eight-year-old son are not gonna screw up the timeline, Five!" Vanya cut her off hotly. "They're insignificant."

"No one is insignificant," Five walked towards her. "We're sorry, all right? But we can't take that risk. They have to stay. Come on."

He and Karina started to make their way towards the car.

"Why do you get to decide?" Vanya shot in their wake. "You're the reason we're stuck here in the first place."

Five whipped around to face her again. "If I did nothing, we would all be dead right now, thanks to you!"

"Five…" Karina scolded him warningly.

"They're coming with me," Vanya was determined.

He scoffed dangerously, going back over to her. "Vanya, do not test me right now."

"That's funny. 'Cause I was just about to say the same thing," Vanya threatened.

She began to glow as Five conjured up his own power. Karina swallowed hard, about to intervene but they both powered down.

"Fine," Vanya relented grudgingly.

"'Fine,' what?" Five questioned.

"I'll be there, but I need to say goodbye first."

"Oh, Vanya, we don't have the time," Five told her almost sadly.

"Well, it's either that or I'm not coming."

"It's okay. Meet us in the alley. Just don't be late," Karina jumped in before Five could argue.

He sighed and muttered as the three split ways.

"Really? "It's okay"? You know we're on an insane time crunch here, Rina," Five remarked as Karina drove them off.

"Five, we're taking her from her friends. The least we can do is let her say goodbye. Besides, if the roles were reversed, I know you'd be wanting to say goodbye to me for the last time before you left," she pointed out.

He immediately went quiet from that.

She was right. Of course she was right.

"I know," he softly spoke after a few moments.

"I'm sorry this is stressing you out," Karina sympathetically told him. "But I know Vanya understands. She'll do her best to be here. As will the others."

"We'll see, darling," Five sighed.

~ * ~

The couple made it back to the alley and Five grabbed the suitcase he stashed in the dumpster. Five checked his watch as Luther came racing out.

"Hey," he greeted. "Where is everyone?"

Five grinned proudly. "You're the first."

"What?"

"Yeah."

Klaus came flailing into the alley, though in all reality it was Ben possessing his body.

"Hey! Hey! We made it!" he was chuckling and grunted when Klaus tried to take control.

Five, Karina, and Luther looked at him nervously.

"What do you mean, "we"?" Karina echoed confusedly.

There were distorted grunts coming from them as Klaus groaned and gurgled. The three watched him in growing concern.

"Get out! Out!" Klaus demanded. His body gurgled and soon he threw up, kicking Ben out in the process.

The three wrinkled their noses in disgust as Klaus continued groaning, collapsing onto the pavement.

"I can't believe it. I mean, you're here," Luther commented.

Five looked at his watch anxiously. "We've got eight minutes left."

"I just had the strangest dream," Klaus whimpered.

"Where are the others?" Five nearly yelled.

"We've got a minute left!" Luther slammed his fist onto the dumpster.

"What's going on, guys? Are we going somewhere?" Klaus hoarsely asked as Karina knelt beside him to check him.

"It was a simple task. It was a simple task!" Five ranted, pacing angrily. "All we had to do was be here. Didn't have to fight a giant sea monster, no. An army of mutants? Nein!"

"I can't believe this," Luther shook his head.

"It was handed to us on a silver platter!" Five continued.

"Could you just moan a little softer? My head is killing me," Klaus complained, sitting up with Karina's help.

"Listen to me, you useless puke bag, we just blew our chance to save the world!" Five yelled at him.

The briefcase suddenly came to life with a charging noise.

"God damn it," Five scoffed.

"Shit," Luther muttered.

Five grabbed the briefcase and shouted as he chucked it into the air. Karina ducked as the briefcase got sucked off.

"We were that close. That close," she sighed.

~ * ~

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