#he's being able to get surgery and tattoos to be able to be his true self and like i KNOW i should be happy for him

[mistypsych]

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 1

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after writing anything at all. Please also keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty and odd at times but I try my best. The story is a non idol BTS fanfic with Suga being the main character. The first chapter or so there might not be a lot of Yoongi but I want the backstory to be clear. The next chapters there will be way more of him I promise! If you want to be on the tag list let me know!

You slowly stepped into the on-call room, sighing while rubbing your aching nape. The painful muscle tension was starting to turn into a headache. You sat down on the big couch and leaned your head back, instantly feeling your body loosen and sink into the soft cushions. Today was a rough day for the ER unit. The hospital was dealing with multiple trauma victims due to a horrendous bus collision. Some patients were barely banged up others unfortunately were looking like they might not make it threw the night. You were already dreading the moment you would have to talk with their family members in case the worse was to come.

The weight of the hour-less intense work and surgeries was starting to rub off on your whole body. As you were almost about to doze off, the doors slammed wide open. “What a fucking trip…” Jungkook stopped mid sentence when he saw you glare at him from under your hooded eyelids. “How many energy drinks did your pour into yourself Kook?” you said in a bit agitated tone. You were tired and running on fumes. He seemed way less strained.

The on-call room was called so for a reason. It was supposed to be a safe heaven for peace and rest. It seemed as tho people like your long time friend let those facts slip their mind. “Sorry Y/N. I did not think you were about to sleep… You looked on fire there!” scoffing a bit under your breath you mumbled “Sometimes I really doubt your capability to think at all… and yes I was lit because I had to at the moment plus I had tons of adrenaline pumping in my system. Now it’s all wearing off”. Running his tattooed hand threw the thick and shiny locks of hair he sighed in defeat. He knew your were right. At times he was way to energetic and high maintenance.

“Still good for tomorrow?” he changed the subject not wanting to get into a war of back and forth bantering. Nodding your head you hummed in agreement.

Both of you usually made plans on your days off to go out and give medical attention to those who were less fortunate. You took care of the homeless, drug addicts and poor elders that were embarrassed to seek help at the official medical institutions. Many times it was also the lack of insurance that could get very high. The two of you saw it as charity and giving back to society.

You met Jungkook at med school in the USA. He was a scholarship student that worked his way into getting the opportunity to study overseas. You were the only person at your year that was able to speak Korean due to the fact you went to Seoul during part of your high school years. So of course you were more than happy to help Kook who at times struggled with the more difficult English terms during the lectures.

Over the years you two grew close and he was the one to say you should once again go to Seoul and take up your internship there. Being an adventurous young woman the mere thought of it seemed a great idea. So here you were years later already after your internship with a secured position as one of the junior trauma surgeons and planning charity work with your friend. You already scheduled some “appointments” with your long term patients.

To be honest you preferred this type of work more than the big shot tasks at the hospital. For you medicine should focus more on helping people. The world showed you many times that if you were less fortunate or simply made some bigger mistakes in life, the cruel reality was that usually there was no way to afford medical attention and insurance. Sometimes it was also the cost of meds themselves. Those could be unbelievably high, especially when it came to rare or terminal illnesses.

You and Kookie worked with official charities that did their best to find funds for some crucial medication for the poor. Not once did you also end up saving lives of some addicts that overdosed. Usually people just let them lay on the streets and did not care to help. You could not blame them tho. The less nice areas of the city were also full of con artists and people simply did not want to risk their own lives. At times it was also the mentality of “they did it to themselves, now they need to bear the consequences”.

You were not there to judge. How could any of you know what these people went threw in life? What pushed them to “self medicate”. So you kept focused solemnly on helping those who seemed like they needed it.

You closed your eyes again trying to ignore the fact that Jungkook was rustling around with some food wrapping. “If I am to survive the last two hours of this hell shift and be of any use tomorrow I would greatly appreciate you stop making a ruckus and let me rest!” you huffed angrily, not even bothering to open your eyes. Once the room was filled with silence, a content smirk spread over your lips. At last the well deserved quiet. Sweet darkness of dreamland slowly took over your mind.

*** *** ***

Getting to your apartment after ending a difficult day at the hospital always filled you with relief. It was close to 8 p.m. Not having to work the night shift this time and having the day off tomorrow made you really happy. As you walked deeper into the hallway your nostrils got hit with a mouthwatering smell of delicious food cooking, it instantly made a smile spread on your lips. The sizzling sound coming from the kitchen meant that your fiancé was already off work as well.

He was one of the best criminal detectives in the city. You both worked hard and sometimes very long hours, but you somehow managed to keep your relationship flourishing threw all the years. Walking towards the sweet and sour smell, you saw his slim frame hovering over some pans and stirring their content. His wide slim shoulders moving under a simple black t-shirt. They matched so well with his thin waist shaping his figure into a perfect triangle.

Resting against the door frame you stared at him in awe. “Are you gonna keep looking or do you plan on saying hello?” he said in a joking tone and turned to you with a big grin that reached to his eyes. You always wondered how he could keep such a sunshine attitude while working a job full of murders, death and gore.

Pushing your back off the frame you walked to him humming and wrapping your arms around him. You rested your chin on his shoulder, breathing in his fresh scent. “Hoba… you are too good to me…” you murmured and kissed him behind the ear. The fact that after a surely long day of work for him, he was there making you both a nice late dinner made your heart squeeze.

You really appreciated having him in you life and that somehow you both were deeply involved despite having hectic and difficult careers. The saying - where there is will there is a way - always made you think of your relationship with Hoseok.

After finishing dinner and basically licking your plate clean, you turned to Hobi with a smile “I’ll take care of the dishes” you said taking the plates from the table and making your way to the kitchen. As you were about to dry off the last glass you felt slender fingers creep up your back. You turned your face a bit a small smirk twisting the side of your lips.

“I was thinking of desert…” Hoseok said in a deep voice staring straight into your eyes. “Oh yea? You want me to run down to the store and grab something?” you teased, being well aware that was not what he had in mind. The twinkling of your eyes giving away how much you were enjoying this. But your fiancé was not the type to put up with games for too long so his only response was rolling his eyes, grabbing you and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist you kissed him desperately.

Lately both of you were so busy with work, you barely had the time or strength for even watching a movie together, so you excitedly welcomed the attention he was giving you. Not bothering to make it to the bedroom you ended on his lap on the couch. Your kisses were getting wild and messy. Just as you started to grind against his growing member, your breaths getting fast and uneven, you heard the loud ring of your phone.

If it were any other signal you would chose to ignore it completely, but the ring tone suggested is was Jungkook from his “special” number in case of an emergency. “Foooor fucks sake!” you growled trying to wait out the call, still kissing and moving your hips over your fiancé. If it was just a couple rings you could try and tell yourself your friend was piss ass drunk messing around.

Much to your dismay the phone kept on buzzing “I need to take this…” you said sadly looking at Hobi who was trying to even out his excited heartbeat. “It’s ok babe” he said, he knew he could not be angry about it, usually it was him being called into some crime scene. You walked away to answer the call “You better be almost dead or something close to that to have a reason for calling me at this hour!” you hissed into the speaker.

“Y/N! This is serious. A guy needs help… he can’t get into the hospital and the wounds are beyond my expertise. I am downstairs waiting for you. I really need your fucking help. I will explain everything later” his voice was shaky and full of what seemed like fear, so you stopped your ranting right away.

You quickly ran to grab your coat “I am coming down!” closing the door on your way out you told Hoseok you might have a very late night and maybe he should not wait up for you. Taking quick strides down the stairs of your apartment building you once again were thanking the universe for the most understanding man to have chosen to exist in your life.

*** *** ***

You quickly got into Kooks car throwing your medical bag onto the back seat. “I brought all my suturing stuff in case it was really that bad…” you said under your breath still a bit irked at the fact you were driving somewhere instead of getting frisky with your lover. “You will need it. Trust me…” is all your friend said.

Turing to finally look at him you saw he was pale, his hair was messy and his forehead was beaded with sweat. He was clutching the stirring wheel to the point his knuckles were white. You never saw him so nervous, not even at the hospitals ER unit.

Driving in silence for some time you finally snapped out of your trail of thoughts and realized you made it into the shady outskirts of Seoul. Even when working on your charity missions you both never made it into the really dangerous corners of the city, so you were very surprised and felt a shiver run threw your body.

You let your questioning gaze fall to Kookie, you were about to blurt out a “what the fuck man?” but before you could, he was out of the car grabbing your bag and walking to your side. Seeing your face full of questions, he opened the car door for you looking at you seriously “It’s fine… we are fine… we need to go there” he pointed towards a dark building that looked like a hangar.

Your body involuntarily shook at the sight. You immediately thought of all the crime scenes and stories Hobi shared with you from time to time when you asked him about work. But instead of listening to your panicking mind, you decided that surely Jungkook had to know what was going on and since he said it was fine it had to be, right?

You cautiously walked behind him letting him carry your bag. Usually you would always rip it out just to show what a strong and independent woman you were. Once you walked into the building you could hear the soles of your shoes clank on the hard floor. It all started to feel like some thriller movie, the type with a bad ending. The beating of your heart was so loud you could swear Kook had to hear it. The adrenalin was rushing in your system and you were starting to feel in flight mode.

Before you could panic more, an unknown voice broke you out of the cycle “Fucking bout’ time!” a tall and strong built guy growled at your friend and then eyed you top to bottom. “This is that great surgeon? She is supposed to be better than you?” he scoffed, a look of disbelief forming on his face. “For your information I am fucking better at surgical work than most!” you snapped. You were freaked out and now some dude that looked like a typical thug was trying to insult you.

“You better not be just running your mouth hun” he smirked grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to the next room. He basically shoved you inside and tossed your bag at you. You didn’t even know when he managed to take it from Kook. The sight in front of you was gruesome. A young male about your age was laying on some banged up table. Blood was oozing out of his stomach. His pitch black long hair was sticky, his skin pale as a sheet of paper.

“Bloody hell…” you whispered walking up to the man. You turned to look at your colleague giving him the “what do you expect me to do?! make a fucking miracle happen?!” stare. You bent over the man and checked for a pulse. To your surprise he was still alive.

Looking at his slashed abdomen you thought to yourself there is now way you can do anything in these conditions. Even if by some chance you were to manage to stitch him up, the place was far from sterile, so he would die of sepsis anyway. “He needs a fucking hospital!” you say and take your phone out to call up an ambulance.

Suddenly your cell got knocked out of your hands and fell to the floor with a loud thud. Just as your were about to scream your head off, you saw it, the end of a gun pointing straight at your forehead. “No hospitals” the tall male snarled. Now you were sure, you got into some gang business and this was not gonna go the way you want.

tag list: @wobblewobble822

[sister-lucifer]

Hiya, hope you're having a pog day <3

I wanted to make a request if possible (also if you're comfortable with it, if not, feel free to ignore this ask!! no worries)

nsfw headcanons for Hoodie and Masky with a trans masc s/o (with top surgery scars)

Masky + Hoodie w/ a trans masc partner who has top surgery scars 

Masky + Hoodie x Reader (separately) 

Genre: Fluff + NSFW, headcanons 

Content/warnings: There’s a lot of talk of reader’s body but it’s all positive, Tim is insecure about his scars, chest + tummy kisses, tooth rotting fluff AND some soft romantic NSFW 😌 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Sorry if you wanted like…hardcore nasty NSFW, this is really sweet 😔 

Tim Wright/Masky 

Although I don’t personally headcanon Tim as trans (though i definitely enjoy trans tim content 👌😋), he certainly has his fair share of scars 

They’re mostly on his arms and hands

Some are from fights, others are from miscellaneous accidents, some have been there as long as he can remember and he’s not even sure where they came from

But theres one thing he knows for sure:

He HATES when people point them out 

He can’t really explain it, he just hates having attention drawn to them 

You may not feel the same way, but even if you say you don’t mind he’ll be careful not to point them out 

That’s not to say you won’t catch him staring when he thinks you’re not looking, though 

The scars just look so…natural, on you 

Like they’ve always been there 

He forgets that they’re scars, really 

He’s not sure why he feels so different about scars on you than he does on him 

The longer he’s with you the less he notices your scars anymore 

And the less he notices his own too 

Over time he becomes less insecure about them as he watches you not only live with but accept and maybe even embrace your scars 

And there’s something he loves about being able to run his hand down your bare chest, the marks on his hand matching with your scars 

Especially when he finds you in bed with him, climbing on top of him and straddling his lap 

He cant stop himself from reaching out and pulling your shirt off, his large hands splaying out over your torso as he admires you, feeling your heartbeat thump behind your ribs 

If your position allows him to see your chest, don’t be surprised if he can’t pull his eyes away 

He’s not very talkative during sex, but he’s always sure to remind you how handsome you are 

He knows sex can sometimes trigger dysphoria, and he doesn’t want you to forget that you’re his sweet boy, forever and always

You can thank him for the praise by taking one of his scarred hands and pressing a soft kiss to it, a silent reassurance that his feelings about you are not unrequited 

Brian Thomas/Hoodie 

Brian, on the other hand, is very vocal about how attractive he finds your scars 

Although he’s got a few of his own, they’re generally not very noticeable 

And even if someone did point them out, he’d simply laugh them off 

So he feels comfortable telling you how much he loves your scars 

They’re a reminder of how strong you are, he says 

It’s not easy embracing your true trans self in this world, and you should wear your scars with pride 

He’s got an artistic streak, so don’t be surprised if he asks to draw on them 

He may even suggest getting a cool tattoo to emphasize them! 

Like barbed wire or a flower chain or something 

But if you don’t want that, he’s perfectly content simply being allowed to run his fingers over your scars 

He’ll often absentmindedly begin tracing them whenever you’re laying together, sometimes not even realizing he’s doing it 

He loves to kiss your chest too 

He’s a romantic type, what can I say 🤷 

He just loves to give your scars all the gentle attention they deserve, he can’t help it 

Don’t be surprised if his hands find your scars as if they have a mind of their own, always wandering to your chest whenever you’re standing at the counter or sitting on the couch with him 

And don’t be surprised if those wandering hands lead to more than just gentle touches 

If you allow him his way during sex, he’ll always insist on having you on your back 

He’ll pay extra attention to your chest, and i don’t just mean your scars (although they certainly aren’t ignored) 

He’s much more vocal than Tim, a constant stream of praises and reassurances spilling from his mouth and he drones on and on about how handsome you are and how lucky he is to have such a beautiful boy like you to take care of 

You’re an absolute beauty to him, and he’s going to make sure he tells you every chance he gets  

Brian Thomas: The Dysphoria Miracle Cure 

[mitamicah]

You may remember me talking about wanting a new tattoo when I went to Finland this month. I ended up getting two (these ones). You can look under the line to get the full story about how the world a cancelled flight ended up resulting in me travelling back in Denmark with new ink on both my arms (ngl mobility was a challenge the first few days).

The tale of two tattoos

I have recently been visiting Finland for the second time in my life. If everything had gone to plan, I would’ve arrived in Helsinki May 3 at 9.20 am which would give me almost six hours before I could check in at my hotel. Learning this I decided to plan for a tattoo since I find tattoos to be gender affirming and a great way to store memories about an experience in the body (a sort of permanent souvenir if you will).

Now I’m very much autistic (capital A) so I tend to overthink things and meanings. To challenge myself I’d decided to give myself the goal that the tattoo I’d get at this appointment should be a flash piece. Asking around on tumblr for good Helsinki based tattoo studios I stumbled over Krunikan Leima where tattoo apprentice Ellen had a pokemon Gacha machine with additional pokemon flash tattoos. In my childhood I liked Eevee (looking like a fluffy fox was a big factor – foxes are still my favourite animal to this day), so I kept this as one of my possible options. At the end I decided to reach out to Ellen about whether she had time the given Friday. She was able to put aside the whole day for me and seemed very excited by my käärijä artwork on my wall when we had our consultation over Microsoft teams. Just a few days after said consultation she posted a story where she’d tattooed Häärijä on somebody’s leg.

At this point it may be good to mention that this tattoo would be the first tattoo I’ve ever gotten in colour. Because of this I was a bit hesitant about going full colour. When thinking about a possible solution I realized that if I went black and grey for the design itself yet kept the coloured background (bubbles in pink and blue) we’d make an accidental trans flag. Being transmasc myself this seemed as too good a coincidence to not go for.

Friday rolled around and unfortunately my flight was cancelled. I was instead directed to board a flight eight hours later flying over Stockholm before heading to Helsinki. This whole ideal would make me 10 hours late compared to my original time. And so, I had to sadly announce to Ellen I wouldn’t be able to make it for our appointment. In true honesty I thought this would be it: the 100 euro I had paid as a consultation fee would’ve been lost, and I would have had to kiss the idea of a trans eevee goodbye. Yet when later having to also inform the studio I was asked if I was able to visit the studio the upcoming Sunday instead which by chance I would (since I hadn’t been able to book a flight before Monday morning).

This whole ideal in hindsight seems to have been faith since on Saturday I went to my first Käärijä concert in his home country when he headlined the newly opened Böle arena. Joining together on the dance floor with other fans at the afterparty, still high on the show(s) we’ve witnessed, we were given yet another blessing in form of a spontaneous gig from a half-drunk Jere behind the DJ stand. Amongst the songs chosen were the transmasc coded song Paidaton Riehuja (the song is literally about people calling a guy taking his shirt off inappropriate because of how his body doesn’t fit into the societal norm said guy giving no shits about it, you cannot tell me this isn’t trans coded especially for post op transmen).

Now I had dreamt about being present to a gig when Käärijä would play this song since first learning about him as an artist and the song itself. Mind you, in my head I would have had my top surgery way before this potential gig, so I’d had become confident with my body and my chest. In my dream I would’ve taken off my shirt no hesitation and proudly showing off my scars. And nobody would look at me funny. Maybe somebody would even smile and cheer.

Hearing the song now as the last song of the entire evening standing next to another transmasc person (hi Skull, @teal-skull) I immediately went to business, fighting with the four layers of shirts I’d decided to put on that day (jacket, longsleeve, tanktop and sportsbra). By the halfway point I’d stand in a crowd with only my sportsbra on, screaming my suffering voice out with my shirts helicoptering in the air. Only afterwards did I realise what I’d just done. I’d voluntarily taken off my shirt for the first time ever in public which in itself is a milestone yet even more so considering that the last time I had been shirtless in front of another human being it was an ex who made sure to let me know he conceptualized and sexualized me as a female person. Yet if anybody even cared about me here, they didn’t seem to gender my body in any way. All these feelings crashed into me like a tidal wave making me ugly cry for the first time ever at a concert. I would cry at least two more times that evening (happy tears) thinking about what had just gone down.

To turn back to the tattoo part of this story, since I had a tattoo appointment less than eleven hours later, my mind began scheming. After only 3,5 hours of sleep, I went up to make concept art of a possible milestone tattoo I’d ask Ellen if she’d help me get as well as the original plan, the Eevee. I wasn’t sure about which of two designs I wanted (either ‘paidaton’ down my lower arm in a typewriter font or PR in the käärijä font with the date underneath), so I took with me to the appointment.

As it turned out Ellen is a casual fan of käärijä herself after having been carried into the fandom by one of her clients asking her to tattoo käärijä related ideas twice (one of them being the Häärijä I’d been on her story recently). She was open to make my Paidaton Riehuja idea a reality if we ended up having the time. After 2,5 hours of listening to Käärijä (+ Go_A + Vesna), talking about Käärijä and otherwise gushing over nerdy culture, Ellen concluded that we did indeed have time for another small tattoo.

After half an hour of lying awkwardly on my stomach could enjoy the result in the mirror.  My most spontaneous tattoo design now and probably ever was done. Ellen had chosen the second design with the shortened song title and the date. And it worked out perfectly! And to think had my flight not been delayed two days prior this might never have happened.

Somebody I know said once that everything in live happens for a reason. Call it faith or destiny or whatever but I think that somebody up there knew I had to reschedule my trip to make the most out of it. Now I not only have a wonderful trans Eevee but I have one of my great trans journey milestones tattooed on my body.

And so concludes the tale of the two tattoos.

Thank you for reading.  

[wwpia]

Well if this isn’t the quickest character ref I ever dun shat out. I want to do a better one including the werewolf form buuuut…. I got bitten by a cat and it fucking hurts. No drawing. Boo.

Commence long af Character info dump, quite a long spiel because he is one of the two primary characters.

NAME: Faustus Chandran

AGE: 33

GENDER: Trans man

RACE: Werewolf - technically now a chimera Werewolf/Dragonborn because of unauthorised monoclonal antibody therapy. He doesn’t really have any ‘benefits’ to this previous therapy, other than maybe being a bit more heat proof than the average person. He actually has much worse sense hearing and smell than the average werewolf… but it’s still a whole lot better than a human’s.

He isn’t able to change during a full moon - he used to have a ‘normal’ werewolf form before the therapy which highly resembled a black German shepherd puppy, all floppy ears, gangly limbs and big paws. He was considered to be quite runty though.

His post-therapy ‘werewolf’ form is quite simply just a complete behemoth - about 40 feet in length, 15 feet high and a mouth gape of about 7 foot. So cute. Like a fluffy T-Rex.

HEIGHT: 5’6”

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: United Kingdom, Yorkshire. (Mother also born in Yorkshire, grandmother born in South India.)

ACCENT: Yorkshire accent, he’ll slow down if someone isn’t able to understand his - at times, extremely fast speaking rate. In all seriousness, his gob outruns his brain. Knows how to speak Hindu fairly well but not quite fluently.

OCCUPATION: World Wide Paranormal Intelligence Agent - junior/mid level. He has only been working at the WWPIA for about 3 years (UK branch). No formal education beyond high school/college. Had a lot of various jobs since the age of 16, mostly muscle for hire, bouncer, etc. The only odd job was when he got a job in a bakery and absolutely loved it. He got fired because a customer lied about finding ‘werewolf hair’ in the buns.

FAVOURITE FOOD: He honestly will eat just about anything and probably enjoy it. He has an obscenely voracious appetite at all times, and can get really, really, REALLY hangry. Like a lot of werewolves - meat is probably at the top on preference but he doesn’t go insane over it or something. Much like humans he ponders/wonders the ethical implications or eating meat. Unfortunately like a lot of humans, going veggie just isn’t economically viable for him… especially with his weirdly fast metabolism. He isn’t that confident in cooking and tends to grab anything when hunger strikes.

FAVOURITE MUSIC: Hard rock, AC/DC, the Darkness, Guns N Roses.

FAVOURITE MEMORY: Running around woods/Yorkshire dales. Building treehouses, playing hide and seek. Just being generally a carefree child.

BIGGEST SECRET: See werewolf form, if it could be called that anymore. Deep down he kind of blames himself for what he considers a true ‘monster’ of an alternate form. That he somehow deserves not being able to join other werewolves on a full moon. It sounds not that big of a ‘big deal’ but for werewolves its absolutely a huge detriment. Werewolves actually extremely in tune with nature, the moon cycles - the full moon phase is like a renewal of the soul. A time of true freedom. The closest he really gets to that is being with his family, and even then he has to be a bit careful because… well wolves be wolves.

BIGGEST FEAR: Needles, doctors, being strapped down, solitary confinement. Getting ‘stuck’ in his monstrous form.

SCARS/TATTOOS/OTHER PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: Most prominently thick white bands around his wrists, ankles and neck. Unlike most scars they’re pretty perfectly even without much if any jagged edges. That’s because they’re from silver restraints during his antibody therapy. The long term exposure and stress at that time means they will never truly ‘heal’.

He always wears some form of neck/wrist covering, usually spiked collars.

He has various other faint, normal scars all over his body that mostly healed or healing. Same with top surgery scars, of which he actually is proud of. TIDDIES BE GONE.

STRENGTHS: Excellent sense of humour, generally level headed, honest to a fault. Generally sweet natured and positive. A very gud boi.

WEAKNESSES: Motor mouth, gets bored extremely quickly. Not ‘dumb’ but regally not hugely academically minded. Acts before he thinks… way way too much. Can be very petulant sometimes. Don’t ever ‘dare’ him to do something because he will totally do it.

FAMILY RELATIONSHIP: Father deceased. Mother is an absolute angel and is such an Indian mum.

Faustus is actually the second oldest child out of SIX. (Yep, six!)

His older brother is kind of a judgemental prick and he clashed a lot with Faustus - they don’t really speak to each other now.

His younger brother is an avid scientist and does a lot of oversees research, Faustus loves him a lot but.. doesn’t really get him sometimes. He’ll just nod and act fascinated when the brother rants about… quantum entanglement, quarks and bosons.

Next are his twin sisters who are satan incarnate, kind of the youngest child without actually being the youngest child. Mother dotes on them and they get away with everything. They run a mystery/oddity gallery and swindle absolutely everyone. Especially their siblings.

Youngest is just about 18 and just the embodiment of a golden retriever puppy. He is possibly the sweetest werewolf to roam the planet. He actually is part of a very effective search and rescue team designed to aid those lost on the Yorkshire dales and moors, His sense of smell of hearing are unrivalled. Looking forward to potentially going to university in France. He also would often stay with Faustus on a full moon as opposed to running off in the dales, thereby giving Faustus a lot of comfort. These two have an extremely close bond.

SEXUALITY: Pansexual.

KINKS(ooh la la!): Genuine praise.

[petnews2day]

Adopting a sweet, skittish rescue dog has taught me how to manage my own fizzing brain | Patrick Lenton

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-news/dog-news/adopting-a-sweet-skittish-rescue-dog-has-taught-me-how-to-manage-my-own-fizzing-brain-patrick-lenton/

Adopting a sweet, skittish rescue dog has taught me how to manage my own fizzing brain | Patrick Lenton

After a week of having Basil lope through my house – the tic-tac sound of a weird, long dog all legs and suspicious side-eye trotting down the hallway – I came up with the pea theory and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. The pea theory, while mostly rescue-greyhound specific, mostly about their strange little adorable brains, has helped me understand their world a bit better. It broadened my own tiny weird brain too.

Basil suffered through a few years as a racing dog. The effects of that time are physically prominent – a handful of racing accident scars on his glossy black coat, his dirty green branding tattoo, a bald butt and legs caused from the unnatural stress of being forced to race. He’s almost the archetype of a greyhound – black with distinguished salt-and-pepper patches on his long snoot, tall and long and awkward, the world’s gentlest eyes. A friend once described greyhounds as looking like “an old sack full of coathangers” and having one in my house only makes this description more evocative and true.

But as with most rescue dogs, it’s mentally where the real consequences of being abused show up. Compared with other rescue dogs I’ve trained, Basil is a dream – barely reactive to other dogs, loves people, doesn’t suffer much in the way of resource guarding (being territorial around food/ beds) that is common with ex-racers. But what we have discovered is that Basil, primarily, hates situations.

This is not an official diagnosis – technically he suffers from anxiety, which manifests in a variety of ways – but my partner and I have identified that in layman’s terms, Basil hates to recognise and endure situations. A situation can be anything – leaving the house, being near a pigeon, dealing with people in two different rooms, having food served at the “wrong” time, someone knocking on the door – and it will discombobulate him to such an extent that he will be stressed and sooky for the rest of the day.

The behaviourist at the adoption agency, Gumtree Greys, told us all about stress and cortisol levels, pointing out that cortisol lingers in their brains and that stress can be cumulative, so after being scared by a carrot falling off a bench, three hours later during a walk he might freeze on a street corner and not move for 15 minutes, staring at nothing. His brain is still flooded with cortisol.

Not being a scientist, I found the cortisol level description hard to relate to, and after a couple of weeks, settled on the pea theory instead: Basil’s brain is a bunch of frozen peas floating in Coca-Cola. All it takes is a little bit of stress for the Coke to start fizzing and the peas to start bobbing around frantically like popcorn on a skillet. Of course he can’t make rational, calm decisions – his peas are popping! We’ve learned that once a situation has been endured, it’s about calming him down, removing him from the stress if possible, and waiting for those frantic peas to settle before asking him to do anything that requires even a skerrick of concentration or discipline.

Basil the greyhound Photograph: Patrick Lenton/Supplied

I love the pea theory because it helps us understand the peculiar needs and desires and fears of this creature who now lives in our house. Greyhounds can be almost alien. I’ve had dogs all my life, and I’m still surprised by the differences. They don’t sit because they can’t; they express affection by big leans; they sleep essentially all day. Add on the trauma of an exploitative and violent racing life, and it’s no wonder they’re left with the soda and legume situation.

But I also love the pea theory because it has helped me get through my own horror of situations. Recently, I came back from minor day surgery and found myself unable to concentrate on work. I realised that having a huge square of flesh cut out of my neck had gotten my own peas a-tumblin‘. So I sat down with a cup of tea and a romance novel and let them settle. When I feel my own Coca-Cola brain start to heat up and the peas begin to jumble, I try to be kind to myself.

Weekend app

Adopting Basil was in itself something of a situation. My partner and I were well-prepared. I’d adopted two rescue dogs before, I have a good background in training reactive dogs and we had sunk our life savings into beds and toys at Petbarn. We were ready for the work we would have to do to help out a dog that had lived an awful life, that probably hadn’t experienced much kindness, that had been through a disorienting series of foster homes, and we believed in the importance of doing it. On the first night, we set him up in his bed in our room, and when we turned the lights off to go to sleep, he cried – not howled or whined, but actually sobbed like a lost, abandoned child. That first week, learning his boundaries and his fears and his anxieties were enough to get us stressed and fearful, worried we weren’t up to looking after this terrified snake-dog. We found ourselves just sitting and watching him, tense, our own peas a tornado of concern.

So it was something of a surprise when we fell overwhelmingly and disgustingly in love with Basil. It’s been two months now, and it’s beyond rewarding to watch him emerge from his shell, to become a goofy, affectionate dog who loves his routine, who is learning how to play with toys, who has become a local celebrity who old people yell compliments to as we walk past the nearby retirement village in his snazzy outfits. I’ve never met a sweeter, gentler dog.

My peas, where I was concerned about the work ahead of me, about the disruption of my life, about the responsibility of owning a traumatised dog, have entirely settled, and I couldn’t imagine life without this odd bag of bones leaning against me, without a snoot nestled in the crook of my arm as I type, without his gorgeous tiny brain fizzing and popping.

[thesoundofmadness]

:/

[daddyjeonnn]

JEON JUNGKOOK FICS RECOMMENDATIONS

Wishing for you (established relationship, husband jungkook)

➝ Summary: you and your husband decide to finally start trying for a baby. It should be easy enough, you thought. But it turns out getting pregnant is a lot harder than you expected.

The habits of a broken heart ( soulmate au, enemies to lovers)

summary - jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. 

For me ( dilf jk)

Summary - jeon jungkook, the man you’re hooking up with on a daily basis and conveniently is your neighbor, happens to bring news with him one day – one you’d never expect unless you see it with your own eyes.

This love ( arranged marriage au)

Summary - because nothing hurts more than the feeling of someone making you whole only for them to rip the other half from you.

The love after ( werewolf jungkook x human reader , soulmate au)

Summary: Every werewolf has a fate, interpreted by Amma and guided by the Moon. In this world, there are 2 Supreme Fates fully determined by Her - serve in the Wolf Warrior Clan or find your True Mate. You and Jungkook have neither. You both lost the loves of your lives to live out their Supreme Fates and it’s why you both hold resentment towards the mating system. Until the Ceremony happens and you and Jungkook are fated to each other, connected only by heartbreak, pain, and the long lost belief that you could ever love again.

Begin (fallen angel jungkook au)

Summary: “Being a human isn’t that bad when he gets to be one with you by his side.” Before everything shatters like a mirage of an impossible dream, you teach Jungkook how to live a fulfilling life far from Heaven. His numb heart starts to gradually light up again; you make him begin believing in love and hope when not even starting afresh could. But then... everything shatters.

The boy with galaxies in his eyes (FWB au, tattoo artist au)

Summary: you had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

Cold nights and blurred nights ( fwb au, college au)

Pi Gasu ( vampire jk x donor reader)

All i want for Cockmas ( Santa Jungkook.?)

The young wolf ( game of thrones au)

Summary - he was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. but when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. but war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

This isn't love darling ( Mafia au , escort au)

Summary- he tasted of an empty night and an eclipsing moon, with blood on his hands and fire in his eyes when he put his mouth on yours.

Oxytocin ( frenimes au , age gap , arranged marriage au)

Summary -You don’t ever seem to be able to stray too far away from each other. There’s no way to backtrack once it’s been set in motion, as long as you’re both still breathing, you don’t even think of leaving. What would people say if they were to listen through the walls?

Jamais Vu ( rich husband x caregiver oc)

Sooyoung and Jungkook just got married when a terrible car accident happened, leading Sooyoung to her death and Jungkook to a visionless world. This incident forced the Jeons to ask you, a caregiver who sounded like Sooyoung, to pretend like you were Jungkook’s late wife in order to convince him to push through his eye surgery.

Would you do it?

alternatively,

“I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet.”

One year, my love ( historical au , royal au)

You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year.

Your eyes tell ( soulmate au , e2l)

You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

“A future without you is a world without color.”

Magic shop ( tea shop owner jk)

Summary- you thought after three years the hurt in your heart for your dead husband would sting a little less than it did. in an attempt to clear your mind and start anew, you move to a small, coastal town. there, you find comfort in a tea shop run by a man named jeongguk. every day, at the same time, you come to the tea shop and soon start to fall for the bright-eyed man that listens to you pour your heart out. but the guilt settling in your stomach every time you think of your husband has you running from jeongguk entirely. do you have what it takes to let go?

Life eternal ( fantasy au , fae jk)

Summary: In the village there were always whispers of Fae and at home, isolated in the mountains, your mother wove you stories of the tricks they pulled. When young, you met, by fate, a Fae that skewed all your previous notions. A boy saves your life and sets you on your way. Years later, he’s there again, saving you and sealing it with a kiss. Legend says that if a Fae claims you as his own you’re his forever. Could you, a human, really live with forever?

Hellblazer ( demon jk, human reader )

Summary: “Few people really think about dying… paranoids worry about it without really understanding it. Victims of fatal accidents and murder don’t have time to think. You only really think about it if you take the time to. And you only take the time if you know it’s going to happen.” -John Constantine, Dangerous Habits Pt. 1: The Beginning of the End, Issue #41.

Pink glow ( alien jk x scientist reader)

Summary: He came to Earth over six months ago and you’ve been studying him ever since. What you didn’t know was that he’s been keeping a close eye on you as well.

Ungodly beast ( demon jk)

Summary - You were sure about this, sure enough to summon Satan himself. A baby all of your own was all you had ever wanted, it was all you had ever dreamed of, it was the only thing your life was lacking. But what price would you have to pay for it? You thought in the beginning that there was nothing you wouldn't do to have your wish granted, well.

Aurora (general jk x princess reader)

Summary: A story which centers on a forbidden love in the midst of centuries-long battle of power and greed.

Hotter than hell ( fallen angel jk, supernatural au)

Summary - jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

Legend of the lamp ( genie jk, fantasy au, strangers to lovers)

Summary: Jungkook has been serving his time as a genie for the last 2000 years, unfortunately stuck in a lamp for the last 200 years before he is woken from his slumber by a beautiful woman who somehow activates his lamp while making a wish that ends up letting him out. After eons of having to bend over backwards to make the desires of evil individuals from power hungry dictators to spoiled princesses come into fruition, he’s updated his contract to be more choosy over who the lamp allows to be his master. It comes to his great surprise that this woman was able to make the lamp work and that she only yearns to be loved and no longer be lonely. But all of the wishes he grants now have time constraints, another caveat he added to the contract, and he wonders what life would be like if he had never made that stupid rule. Because, as the week progresses, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell, pondering what it would be like if he never had to stop playing the role of her man. 

Good thing ( rich fuckboy jk, stranger to lovers au)

Wanted ( sci-fi, alien jk)

You were a deserter, a renegade, a wanted “criminal”. It was never in your plans to crash land on that planet, and it most certainly wasn’t in your plans to fall in love with it’s handsome ruler.  

Grain of sand ( blind jk au, estb relationship)

Blind since the age of 18 from a genetic disorder, Jungkook walked through life as if he never lost it, but on one fateful day five years ago he literally almost runs into you. He fell in love nearly immediately. Fast forward to the present and it’s just another day in your quiet life with him by your side. 

Ghosts just wanna have fun ( psychic au, med school au)

When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

Say you won't let go ( soulmate au)

summary: you’ve been eighteen years old for ten years when Jungkook first moves in 

Overtime ( Ceo jk)

summary: an awkward first encounter with your new boss gives Jeon Jungkook all the more reason to make your job an interesting experience.

Yours, truly ( arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers)

Ten years ago, you had run away from your family to pursue your dreams of becoming an idol. Eight years ago, those dreams were turned into dust and you were forced to beg your family to take you back in. Now, as a part of their agreement for making you a member of the illustrious Min family once more, you were forced to do their every bidding, including marrying the man you hated the most of all.

The sea the storm ( human jk x sea spirit reader)

the sea is a powerful mistress. she is calm and beautiful. she is mysterious and alluring. she is a force to be reckoned with. above all, however, she is lonely. until she meets him. fantasy au.

Put your head on my shoulder ( established au ,husbandkook)

Not quiet lovers ( assistant jk)

Hiring jeon jungkook as your personal assistant happens to have more than one perk.

Rottenfolk (Royal au, Faerie au)

Summary - a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

Piano tiles ( chaeboljk x pianist reader)

Ruin him ( sub virgin coworker jk)

Espresso shots and boob talk ( boyfriend jk)

Appetence (idol boyfriend jk)

What's mine is mine ( Idol jk)

My beloved ( vampire au soulmate au)

Oh my ghost ( supernatural au, ghost jk)

fresh out of college, you’ve definitely had your fair share of horrible roommates. fortunately getting your first big girl job also means finally being able to save enough money to move into your own apartment. but you must’ve forgot to read the fine print when you signed the lease because come to find out, your new place comes with an unexpected house guest. oh and did i mention all your underwear seems to be going missing.

Between roommates (roommate jk ft. Namjoon)

you’ve got a crush on kim namjoon. Namjoon being jungkook’s friend, jungkook being your roommate. things get complicated somewhere down the line that leaves him regretting pushing you toward his own friend when he wants you just as bad. as roommates he knows you shouldn’t, but damn did he really want you.

My name is 01001010- 01001011 (alien jk)

“So you’re a human?” The alien that looked and acted like a human asked. The only difference between him and you was that he had two upside down triangles starting from his jaw going down under his shirt. Also, he was huge. “I’m talking 8 foot tall” huge.

To love and to pamper ( established relationship, domestic)

Jungkook is on the edge, especially these days. Exhausting, consuming thoughts are always inside his mind, starting from not being enough to raise your daughter. You know him too well though, and you’re ready to love and pamper him just the way he needs you to.

Changes in between ( roommate au,friends to lovers)

“Does that mean that I can kiss you now?” Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.

A Rainy Sunset ( bestfriends to lovers au)

your best friend would give you the world if he could, always sighing to you and staring at you with the most in-love look on his face, he’s devoted to you but you don’t see him the same way till your roommate dares to say something about it, then the way you see him starts to change faster than you thought.

Days to morning glory ( aspiring rockstar jk x med student au)

while you had lugged the baggage of your heartbreak and built a life for yourself in the city that never sleeps, jeongguk had traveled the universe twice, living out of his suitcase before finally settling into the city of angels. but after five years, you both end up returning to your hometown, sharing a house that’s tainted with the memories of your past.

This is how you fall in love ( rockstar au)

After years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, Jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

Love to hate ( enemies to lovers au, fuck buddies)

Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

The love after (werewolf jk x human reader , soulmate au)

Every werewolf has a fate, interpreted by Amma and guided by the Moon. In this world, there are 2 Supreme Fates fully determined by Her - serve in the Wolf Warrior Clan or find your True Mate. You and Jungkook have neither. You both lost the loves of your lives to live out their Supreme Fates and it’s why you both hold resentment towards the mating system. Until the Ceremony happens and you and Jungkook are fated to each other, connected only by heartbreak, pain, and the long lost belief that you could ever love again.

Falling (soulmate au)

Soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest  level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm. 

Southpaw ( boxer jk au, childhood friends to lovers)

Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

A Hero's Journey ( best friend's boyfriend au)

jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

Unspoken ( friends to lovers)

you and Jungkook were not just friends but none of y’all really addressed it so the tension between you two just grew and you played along with it but as things get heated, Jungkook finally finds the need to address the unspoken situationship you two have after feeling like someone might be taking his invisible spot.

You and Jeongguk propose at restaurants to get free food, but somewhere along the way you start to fall for him.

Fade into you ( Barista jk, fwb)

“oh angel, for how fucking adorable you are, you sure don’t use that pretty little brain of yours much,” or jungkook has no limits when it comes to you. you’re his, he’s gonna get it through your head, eventually.

As we were ( infidelity, husband jk)

Cardiovascular palpitations ( doctors au , fwb )

Proposals (friends to lovers au)

Hellbound (demon jk x female reader)

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

[daloy-politsey]

On my first date with Yehoram, I offered him a sip of my prosecco at the hip Tel Aviv bar I had brought him to. He tensed, paused and quietly replied, “I’m not sure if I can. I don’t know if it’s kosher.” I immediately recognized his confession for what it was: a coming-out. I told him that it’s fine, that we can ask the waitress if the wine has a certification, that I grew up in an observant family too. He finally breathed.

I already knew that Yehoram is female-to-male transgender. In fact, it was the only thing written on his dating profile. Over the course of our year-long relationship, and then our seamless transition into friendship late last year, he explained to me that the queer community will often accept that he is trans but not that he is religious. But the same is not always necessarily true of the religious community – and particularly of his family.

There are many preconceptions about his family. The matriarch Mazal, 74, and patriarch Yehiel, 78, were both born in Sana’a, Yemen, and immigrated to the newly-declared State of Israel in early childhood. (Haaretz is honoring their request not to publish the family name.) They are visibly Haredi: Mazal wears long skirts and tucks her hair into modest black caps; Yehiel trims his salt-and-pepper beard, and wears a uniform of crisp dress shirts, black pants and a black velvet kippa.

They speak with heavy Yemenite accents – which have been at least partially adopted by their seven children – and their speech is seasoned with religious aphorisms and allusions. People are surprised to learn that Yehoram, 32, is accepted and supported by his parents, to a degree that is rare even in the secular homes of Tel Aviv.

At their kitchen table in a town near Rehovot, central Israel, Mazal has set out water, juice and a homemade cake. Yehiel has set down a voice recorder of his own, to make sure he isn’t misrepresented. They have a story to tell about being the parents of a trans son, and they have decided that I am allowed to tell it.

Before we begin the interview, both are apprehensive. After much deliberation, they decide that I can publish their names but not their images. Yehiel is a respected figure in religious circles: he serves as his synagogue’s main cantor on the High Holy Days, is a mezuzah scribe and kashrut supervisor for the Chief Rabbinate. He spends his free time poring over religious texts, with Yehoram often alongside him. His son no longer attends the local synagogue in which his father plays so large a role; the congregation knew him before his transition, and it could hurt his family’s reputation.

If someone goes to the rabbi with this article in hand and tells Yehiel that he’s out of the fold, “at our age, there’s no fight left. There’s nothing you can do,” he says. “It would destroy me.” When he thinks I cannot hear him, he says that he suspects that one of his contracts as a kashrut supervisor was not renewed for this exact reason – because of his unconventional family.

But if getting his story out shows religious parents that they can embrace their own LGBTQ children, he wants it published. “I want to help,” he says.

Mazal chimes in. “Both of us do. You hear these stories about parents throwing their children out ... I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how you throw out your child.”

She recounts going to the shivah of a friend of Yehoram’s – the transgender queer activist DanVeg, who took her own life in 2016.  “I saw them all in the living room, with their heads on each other’s shoulders. I started to cry. I wanted to hug them all, to go one by one. And they came to me; they saw the look in my eye. There was a man who had become a woman, who came to hug me. And a young girl, and more. I couldn’t take it,” she says, wiping away tears that are coming faster and faster. “More and more of them told us that they’re alone, abandoned by their parents. How can you throw out your child? The child of a human being!”

I get up to hug her, and she cries into my back: “Why? Why would you throw your child out of your house? Why?”

They say they never suspected that Yehoram was different before he came out to them, if not unconventionally, as queer at the age of 18, some 14 years ago.

He did not employ the usual lexicon: “I told them, this is how I am – I’m wearing pants from now on and I’m not interested in men,” he recounts. In Yehoram’s absence, Yehiel recalls it as well. Yehoram sat his parents down in the living room and said his piece, and then asked his parents for a response.

“We got up immediately, as if it were coordinated,” Yehiel says. “We hugged [him] from both directions … and we told [him], ‘You have nothing to be afraid of, no need to worry. You’re our daughter, it doesn’t matter what you do.’” Yehoram then opened his backpack to show a couple days’ clothes inside. “If you didn’t accept me, I would have killed myself,” he told his parents.

From there, they worked to make sure that their son wouldn’t, for one moment, forget that he is loved and cared for. They also made sure that he could live a normal life. “It was important that he be self-sufficient, have a respectable career, be able to build a life without us,” Yehiel explains. “Every day, I’m afraid that he won’t be here. I think about how he can build his life so he’s not dependent on anyone else.”

Mazal and Yehiel tend to refer to Yehoram with female pronouns when he isn’t in the room, and occasionally slip into them when he is. To her, Mazal says, he will always be their daughter. “It’s hard for me,” Yehiel concurs. “[He] should be patient.”

Mazal calls him by his chosen name – an anagram of his birth name – to make him happy. “And to connect with [him] – what can you do? We love [him] either way. [He’s] our daughter.”

There have been difficulties in accepting him along the way, she concedes. But like many parents of LGBTQ children, they are mainly rooted in concerns that he will be able to live a safe, fulfilling life.

No one should mistake their acceptance for liberalism – they repeatedly note that the Pride Parades, with their scanty clothes and glitter, are unsightly. “The left brings it in,” Mazal says. “Non-Jews from abroad, with all their tattoos and whatnot.” However, their embrace of their transgender son and the many queer people who have passed through their doors does not come in spite of their firm religious beliefs, but is the direct result of them.

Yehiel, a lifelong religious scholar, has poured over sources biblical, talmudic, rabbinic and kabbalistic. The kabbalistic concept of the soul provides a simple explanation for the transgender phenomenon, he believes.

“We have the knowledge that Jewish souls can be reincarnated into anything – into non-Jewish families, into animals, even into food,” Yehiel explains. “We were taught that the soul of a man can be reincarnated into a woman, in order to remedy something he had done in a past life.”

When Mazal was pregnant with Yehoram, she had already given birth to five daughters and was hoping for a son. The couple went to a respected rabbi, who told them to buy a bottle of wine for the circumcision ceremony and to come see him 40 days into the pregnancy. Yehiel says that when the time came, it was hard to get hold of the rabbi to schedule an appointment, and they were only able to see him eight months in. The rabbi gave them the blessing regardless.

“The body was already formed female,” Yehiel says, but the prayers had worked: “The soul was male.”

And there is scripture to back up the existence of LGBTQ people within Judaism. “You’re not different, you’re not strange,” Yehiel says. “This [phenomenon] has always existed. It’s in the Torah, and it’s in the mystical sources.” Mazal adds: “It’s a shame that we don’t lay this out these days, to have everything written up and organized to say that it’s all there in scripture.”

At 26, Yehoram told his parents he was transitioning. He underwent top surgery – a double mastectomy – without informing them. “On the one hand, it hurt us,” Yehiel admits. “For us, it meant that’s it – it’s sealed. If he’d told us in advance, we would have told him to wait. Maybe the situation would change.”

But what’s done is done, Mazal says. “What hurt me is that [he] underwent the surgery and I wasn’t there. That ate at me.”

Both loudly agree that the important thing is that he is happy and healthy. “We hope just for success – and thank God there are many successes, so everything is alright,” she says. “I’m just waiting for children,” she laughs.

Yehoram, who has taken a seat next to her, smirks. Mazal jokes about him coming home pregnant one day. He’s slightly irked, but jokes along. A couple of years ago, he froze his eggs through Ichilov Hospital’s fertility clinic for transgender men, and hopes to one day become a father, no matter how he has to do it. His parents strongly supported the move. They have 31 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Yehoram asks a question of his own: Whether his parents want to talk about the time they took him to an esteemed rabbi in Tel Aviv, after he came out at 18.

“After he told us everything, we consulted with a rabbi,” Yehiel relays. “I remember that he got angry and yelled at him. I didn’t like that. He hurt him, and I couldn’t stay any longer, so we left.”

“The rabbi told me that I had lapsed, deteriorated in my spirituality,” Yehoram explains. It’s clear that he remembers it vividly. “That I had fallen.”

After that, the rabbi told him to leave the room, and for his parents to stay. “I heard shouting, and then you left the room,” he says to his parents. “You didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. We were quiet all the way home.”

No one discussed the incident for days after, and they barely spoke at all. After three days, Yehoram says, he asked his mother what had happened after the rabbi told him to leave the room.

“I didn’t know what happened, I assumed the worst. You told me that [Dad] got very angry and told [the rabbi], ‘How dare you hurt and belittle a Jewish soul?’ You said you had to give him however much money, and that you just threw a small bill onto the table and left the room,” Yehoram tells his mother. “It really surprised me. I thought you were on his side, and then I suddenly heard that you were on mine.”

When he is with us in the room, Yehoram sometimes seems agitated by his parents’ insistence that their acceptance has always been complete. He tries to direct them toward other instances, other rabbis they don’t or won’t recall. It is often difficult for parents to acknowledge the pain or discomfort that their actions caused their children, even if they were accidental. Mazal brings out a picture from Yehoram’s bat mitzvah, of them embracing the young girl he was. They look almost exactly the same, 20 years later, beaming. Young Yehoram, in a long-sleeved, high-necked dress, is smiling, but the smile does not reach his eyes.

Elisha Alexander, co-CEO and founder of the transgender advocacy and information organization Ma’avarim, says that even though Yehiel and Mazal’s acceptance of their son may seem unique, he would like to think it’s more common than we assume.

“There are religious and even ultra-Orthodox people who accept their trans family members, but it’s usually in secret. The main problem in these communities is the leadership,” he says.

But if more of them realized that embracing their children was a matter of pikuach nefesh – the Jewish concept that saving a life supersedes most religious commandments and norms – they would be more inclined to find a halakhic solution to integrating transgender people into these communities.

There is also a misconception that acceptance is a binary choice: That any parent who does not kick their transgender child out of the house or disown them has, by default, accepted them. “This could not be further from the truth,” Alexander says. “Accepting your child means accepting every aspect inherent to them, including their gender identity, pronouns and so on.”

When parents refuse to do so, their child may seek acceptance elsewhere. He adds that studies show that acceptance within the family drastically reduces the suicide rate among transgender people.

Knowing this, Yehiel says that any parent in his position must continue loving and supporting their child. “This child can fall,” he says. He does not mention it, but he is aware of the stories and statistics: trans youth who find themselves on the street face high rates of abuse and exploitation. Thirty to 50 percent of transgender teens report suicidal thoughts and behaviors – a rate three times higher than for teens overall. But that figure falls to 4 percent when families accept and embrace them, says Sarit Ben Shimol, manager of the Lioness Alliance for families and transgender children and teenagers.

Yehiel adds that it is the duty of parents to give children the support they need to thrive. “As a parent, it is your responsibility to tell your child: You are my child and you are my life. My life depends on you. Watch over me so that I can watch over you,” he says.

As we get up from our seats, Yehiel looks at me for a moment and asks, “If it’s not too personal – since we already opened up the topic – what is your relationship like with your parents?”

I tell them that I talk to my parents, and especially my mother, almost every day. That it was difficult for them to come to terms with my sexual orientation as well, and that sometimes I have an inkling that it still is, even if they won’t say it outright. But I try to be patient.

“Good,” Mazal says. “It’s important to be patient – they’re learning too.” She embraces me again, and Yehiel rests a hand on my shoulder. They invite me to come again, whenever I like. “After all, you’re like our daughter, too.”

[struwwelzeter]

Ok, here it is. This is one of my all time favorite interviews. It doesn’t really contain anything new, and I am still convinced it has been translated before, but that is beside the point. He is so chatty, and I get the impression he was quite at ease with the interviewer, and he’s just and adorable dork. I gave up on trying to capture his “voice” pretty fast because it’s impossible. Maybe it’s because I know how he sounds when he speaks english, but he’s ... a bit of a hazard, in that he sounds dumb one minute and sophisticated the next, and some of the things he says are actually not translateable, so I just concentrated on trying to get what he says across and gave up on the how.

Interview with Richard Kruspe of Emigrate and Rammstein

by Marcus Schleutermann of Rock Hard Magazine, August 22, 2008

—-

Richard, where and in what kind of circumstances did you grow up?

Until I was seven I lived in a small village called Weisen. That was a beautiful childhood with alot of nature, cats and dogs and a big family with two siblings. Then the big break came unfortunately, with the divorce of my parents. My father was gone from one day to the next, and we moved in with my stepfather in Schwerin. We didn’t ge on at all. The situation between me and him escalated quite a bit and I often ran away from home quite often. Sometimes I slept on park benches or in a friend’s basement and was looked for by the police. When there was the chance to start an apprenticeship somewehre else I jumped on it right away and went to Hagenau. Since there was nothing there other than a big army base, I did nothing but spend two and a half years worth of sparetime playing guitar. Looking back, I have to say that my stepfather at least taught me basic discipline. I profit from that by now, because as a musician there is no outside obligation to sit down and compose every day.

Where would you most like to live?

At the moment, I live both in Berlin and in New York. I like that duality. New York has a unique energy that drives me. I never really warmed up to Berlin on the other hand. When I first came here, the negative attitude of the people here totally spooked me. It’s always a no at first. Apart from that it’s pretty cold here. But by now quite a few things have changed for the better, especially this refreshing multiculti-thing, which of course doesn't only work between germans and turks, but between all sorts of nationalities. I would most like to live in Cape Town. You have the mountains on one side and two oceans on the other. The people are open and friendly and there is a very beautiful light that is good for my mind. (I feel obligated to say that he uses the word «Gemüt» which could also mean mood or soul and kind of means all of those 3 things at once.) I can imagine that as a retirement retreat.

Were you more of nerd or a bruiser in school?

I think that goes without saying - quite a bit of a bruiser.

So you did end up in brawls now and then.

Certainly. At the age of 10 to 14 I got into situations all the time where I - lets say - could let loose physically. But when I started wrestling I learned how to chanel my aggressions. I trained 5 times a weekand had competitions on the weekends. Unfortunately I was way too offensive most of the time and had no patience while fighting. I wanted victory right away, like tyson.

Are your parents proud and of you?

I think my biological father is very proud of me. My mother always wanted something else for me, but by now my muscian’s life is okay for her. At the end of the day it doesn't matter what you do, as long as you are successful. Especially for the post-war generation of my parents materialistic value is still held above evrything.

So what does money mean to you?

Essentially, only the freedom to be able to do what I like to do. Money means independency to me most of all. The problem with that is of course that you get used to a certain level of luxury and lifestyle. When I earned the first bit of money with Rammstein I was in seventh heaven and thought I would never need more. With my two apartments in London and Berlin and the constant travelling I need a bit more nowadays.

How do you define success?

Success is relative. With Emigrate I got great reviews, sold a good number of albums worldwide and got releases in America and Australia. Therefore, I could assess my solo project as a success, but in comparison with Rammstein, who sell millions, Emigrate are small fry.

What was the most miserable job you ever had?

The worst job was window cleaner, because I suffer from vertigo a bit [laughs]. Initially I was a truckdriver, but I lost my license after an accident. After that the company deemed I was supposed to become a window cleaner and climb up the Schwerin television tower. No way! I just put up the ladder for them and told them: See you later! (He actually uses english for the see you later. More impactful, you see.) To get by, I made shoes myself and sold them. Espardrilles and the likes. That is funny, because I am actually not talented in crafts at all. But I am streetwise and inventive when it comes to survival. I always had to improvise to get by because I couldn't handle authority at all. As a teenager I apprenticed to be a cook/chef (Same word in german. Probably more a cook than a chef to be honest here.) That's a tough job going off the tough hours alone. Apart from that it gets quite hot by the stove after a while.

That is not that different with Rammstein’s pyro show.

Quite true, hahaha! I believe cooking and making music has so much in common anyway. I have always cooked without a recipe. I just take what is there and conjure up something delicious. Some things maybe don't fit that well in the beginning, but you learn that quite quickly and then you develop an intuitive sense. That is the same with composing.

What would have become of you, if you hadn’t become a musician?

Hm, good question. I would like to produce a band some time - so kinda switch to the other side. Other than that I love to write and could imagine screenwriting would be a suitable job for me.

Speaking of Hollywood, how about being before the camera? Are there characters you would have loved or love to play?

Two characters I find brilliant: Taxi Driver and Leon the Professional. And those gangster flicks are cool. Goodfellas and Reservoir Dogs for exemple.

So more the underdogs and the villains - not the heroes.

Yes, they just have more potential. After I shot some erotic scenes for a video the other day I could also imagine doing an entire film in that direction. I was quite nervous in the beginning, but the longer we were shooting the more fun I had. Erotic, mind you, not pornographic.

So, you’d undress for Playgirl?

Not anymore [laughs]. Although probably not before either. I do have a pretty easy going relationship with my body and run around naked in my apartment alot, but then I am not that exhibitionistic that I'd strip for some glossy magazine.

So you’re a at-home nudist.

Yeah, that's an east thing, I think. When I opened my apartment door in New York naked once when the door rang while I was in bed with my then wife, she was completely bewildered. The shameless ossis (east germans) and the prudish americans - that was a meeting of the worlds. [laughs]

Are you vain?

Unfortunately, yes. I'd like to be more above that because vanity is a negative quality that has something to do with insecurity and ego. I work on myself and as I got older I luckily developed a more casual attitude. At some point you start to accept the degredation of the body.

Theoretically you could counteract that with plastic surgery. How about an appointment with Nip/Tuck, hm?

That's not something for me, but I don't have anything against plastic surgery. If people are unhappy with their body and gain new self esteem and sense of life through an operation, they should go through with it. I do see a problem in the danger of it getting exorbitant and to develop some kind of addiction like with tattoos that goes far beyond the reasonable. The body won't go along with everythig after all, and such things as calf implants are pretty crazy.

Speaking of crazy, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?

That must have been asking a woman to marry me two days after meeting her. She said yes, and the rest is history. (They are divorced at this point, as the article points out here - in brackets too.)

Cue: Woman: What type do you prefer?

Like almost everyone I do have some sort of type. You need a relationship that mirrors yourself and to develop. So in that sense you're looking for a partner that drives you forward in certain aspects. To have a good relationship you need to keep a balance of passion and friendship - if it's just one it will overturn at some point.

What do you think of groupies?

They just belong to it all. This symbiosis of star and groupie is like theater. The relationship between both has of course nothing to do with reality, and is just an illusion, but you shouldn't destroy that. I'm personally not really tempted by groupies because I like it when I have to fight for a woman. But I like the glamour their presence emenates.

Do you believe in god or reincarnation? Are you spiritaully inclined?

More and more. I don't believe in god in a church sense, but I'm a spiritual guy and believe in a form of justice; that the things we do come back to us in some way eventually. Karma, so to speak. I also have the slightly feminine habit of using astrology to understand people. I use it as a tool to decipher characters. Once you know how someone's house is build, it's easier to place their actions. To be clear: I don't mean horoscopes or such nonsense. There's alot of maths in astrology and you can't compare that with the usual star-sign pulp in TV programmes.

Could you live without television?

Nah. I have a huge beamer in my New York apartment's bedroom. I love lying in bed, smoking and watching good movies more than anything. That is the only thing where I can really switch of other than sex. Lots of both, please. [laughs]

Reading isn't your thing?

I used to read alot, but now I'm unfortunately too lazy for it most of the time. Even on the plane you get a monitor and a huge selection of movies since a while now. But I still have a good reading recommendation: The New York trilogy by Paul Auster.

What's the most important invention for human kind?

Each century has it's own big invention and right now that is clearly the internet. Before that it was electricity, which made everything else like the light bulb and the elctric guitar even possible.

To which era would you most like to travel if there was a time machine?

I guess the sword and blade time as I always call it. Knights templar, 11th century. I can answer that this well, because I like to watch even stupid movies when they deal with that period. I just have a huge affinity to it somehow and would love to find out how things were going back then.

Do you have a phobia?

Other than the aforementioned fear of heights I have a phobia of snakes.

When did you cry the last time?

Now you got me. That is a huge problem of mine because I just can't cry. I think that is a pity myself, because crying is an outlet with which you let grief go. Maybe that's why my music is so important to me, it's like my tear duct and helps me to live out my feelings.

——————-

- sorry for any spelling mistakes but I’m dyslexci and I can’t be bothered.

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part twelve Word count: ±2750 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part twelve summary: The only way to find out the truth about Laura, is to start digging even deeper. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif credit: @demondetoxmanual​.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     “Dead as a dodo,” the oldest of the Winchester brothers states over the phone, as he exits Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, Zoë by his side.      Before they drove to the hospital, the hunters dropped Sam off at the Shire residence, so that he could make sure the family wouldn’t get targeted. Laura has proven to be relentless, and they didn’t want to risk the family getting killed as well.

     “Laura attacked him while other people were around?” Sam, who is on the line with his brother, is clearly surprised.      “She didn’t. She waited until he went to the supply storage, alone,” Dean tells. “Same deal; beat up, broken neck.”      Sam cuts to the chase. “We have to figure this out fast. The only other people who may know something about Laura’s location is what’s left of the Shire family.”      “You got eyes?” Dean checks, knowing Sam is staking out the residence on Lake Front Lane.      “Yeah. So far so good.”      “Make sure he keeps them in sight at all costs. Use an excuse and get into the house if he has to,” Zoë suggests, only catching half of the conversation.

     Dean glances aside at the woman next to him. She has changed into a clean shirt, one that doesn’t have her own blood on it. Back at the Hampton Inn, she taped her right side, relieving some of the pressure from her aching ribs. After a quick touch up of her hair and make-up, one could barely tell she just got attacked by an angry spirit. Her walk is slightly stiff, but the bruising she suffered is sufficiently masked, her brown curls falling over the gash on her hairline, which she closed with butterfly stitches.

     With a groan she lowers herself in the front seat of the Impala, muttering ‘fuck’ under her breath when fractures send a sharp pain through her body.      Dean notices when he gets into the car as well, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead he puts his phone on speaker, now that the Impala provides them the safety to talk freely. “Zo says that when you lose sight of them, you better get inside. Tell them you’re insurance or somethin’.”

     “Will do. Did you guys manage to get Laura’s medical records?”      “We did. Let’s see what we have here.” The older Winchester pulls a folder from the inside of his leather coat. He opens it, about to leaf through the documents, when Zoë snatches it from his hands. “Hey!”      “Like you could make sense of what’s in here,” she scolds.

   She wets her finger and flips the page. A huff escapes her throat as she reads the file, shaking her head, disapproving. “1999, age four; skull fracture of the parietal, supposedly fell off her bike. 2001, age six; fracture of the left ulna. 2003, age eight, multiple fractures, right radius, she needed surgery for that. Same year, broken carpal bones, right wrist, this time it was the trampoline's fault. It goes on.”      “Fucking bastard…” Dean scoffs.      “And no one picked up on this?” Sam wonders.      “Perks of the dad being Chief of surgery.” Zoë holds an X-ray against the light. “Good news for us is that we should be able to determine now if it’s Laura in that grave or not. Especially her right arm, which was screwed back together.”

     “Only one way to find out. Looks like your gonna pay Linwood Cemetery another visit,” Dean says, turning the key in the ignition. The V8 engine comes to life with a roar, a song by The Kinks called ‘You Really Got Me’ playing on the local radio station.

     “You know you and Zo have to stick together, right?” Sam brings to mind.      “Say what?” Dean replies, puzzled, before he pulls away from the curb.      “He’s right.” Zoë backs up the younger Winchester’s statement, glancing at the driver next to her. “Laura kills everyone who stops her, but only if they are alone. We already know she’s after me, and now you shot her through the head, so I’m guessing you moved up her murder list.”      “Well that’s a comforting thought.” Dean breathes out, once realization sets in. “What about you, Sam?”      “I don’t think she’ll come after me. I never actually had contact with her, unlike you guys,” Sam explains.      “So basically, I’m stuck with her?” Dean nods his head at the young woman next to him, even though his brother can’t see it.      “Hey, still in the car,” Zoë snarls, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She then continues to correct herself, in her usual brazenness. “Excuse my French. I’m still in the ‘67 Chevrolet Impala.”

     Dean’s jaw clenches as he fights the urge to pull the gun from the glove compartment and shoot her. He’s getting pretty tired of her smartass comments.      “He has a point, though,” Sam intervenes. “Whatever happens, you two have to stick together, or it will be the end of you. The second one of you ends up alone…”      Sam leaves the rest of the words unsaid, because no one needs to hear them to understand. If Dean and Zoë get separated, they will die, and especially the huntress is not particularly happy about that matter.

     “Great. My lucky day,” Zoë mutters sarcastically, after which she looks away and watches the houses rush by.      “Do I have to remind you that I just saved your ass?” Dean recalls.      The huntress huffs, of course he has to bring that up. “I didn't need your--”      “Oh, come on! Don't start that bullshit with me,” the oldest Winchester counters, letting out a laugh. No way in hell she’s going to win this argument. “What were you planning to do exactly after Laura pinned you to the wall and was a second from snapping your neck, huh?”

     “Could you two stop bitching at each other for one fucking second?!”      Dean looks at the phone on the dashboard. For a moment there, he forgot Sam was still a part of this conversation. The younger Winchester clearly has had enough of their bickering and fighting, because it’s not often that the respectable sibling curses. The outburst helps, because both shut up instantly.

     “Thank you,” Sam sighs and continues on his theory. “Dean, you dig up that body, I’ll keep an eye on the Shires.”      The Impala comes to a stop before a traffic light, crossing cars not allowing Dean to run the stop sign. “What about Miss Congeniality over here?”      “She can’t dig. She broke her ribs.” Sam states, matter of factly.

     Zoë, who still had her arms crossed in front of her, now turns herself to watch the hunter’s reaction. The amusement that bubbles inside of her makes it impossible to suppress the wide smirk on her lips when she notices Dean translating the true meaning of Sam’s message. For once in her life, she is not going to disagree with Sam, because this is playing itself out beautifully.      “So, I’m gonna have to dig up a coffin while she stands there being pretty?!” he almost exclaims.      “Ah-uh.”      “I have no issues with that, whatsoever.” Zoë agrees, adding fuel to the fire.      “Of course you don’t, you--” Dean shuts himself up, biting his tongue before he says something he might regret. He’s only at an arm's length away from her, plus he’s driving his precious car. The huntress might be hurt, but she can still do some serious damage.      “Alright, Sammy. You stay put, and be careful, okay?” he presses. “Who knows what that mini poltergeist has up her sleeve.”      “I’ll be safe,” his younger brother promises. “You guys too, alright? See you in a bit.”

     The sun is about to sink behind the horizon and golden hour is upon them. The heavens are colored in a dark shade of blue, gradually turning lighter in the west, where apricot and merigold fire up the sky. It’s getting chilly, autumn bringing down the temperatures at dusk. Nocturnal animals come to life, a barn owl hooting in the distance. The cemetery’s gates closed an hour ago, offering the hunters the peace and quiet needed to stay undetected.

     This time it’s not the huntress who is shuffling dirt. In fact, she’s casually sitting on the tombstone next to Laura’s, her legs crossed like the lady that she is, watching Dean do all the hard work. While filing her nails, Zoë cannot help but admire the scenery, and it’s not the pretty sunset. The Winchester in her company is working his way into the ground, scooping dirt over his shoulder with steady amounts. He shed his jacket and his grey shirt is clinging to his clammy torso, perspiration shimmering on his exposed skin. Muscles roll beneath the fabric of the thin tee and his biceps flex with every motion, a glimpse of a tattoo peeking from under the right sleeve. The huntress might want to bite his head off most of the time, but even she has to admit; Dean’s is easy on the eyes.

     “Like what you see?” Dean grins mischievously, having noticed her appreciating looks.      Zoë isn’t at all thrown off balance by his remark, however. “Really? You objectify women all the fucking time, and you’re calling me out?”      “Touché,” he chuckles, not slowing down for a second. “Just sayin’, the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.”      Zoë scoffs, finding his assumption entertaining. “Keep on dreaming, Casanova. I’m more likely to die before ending up between the sheets with you.”

     “Well…” Dean swings more ground out of the hole, groaning at the increasing ache in his left shoulder. His eyes are still mischievous, and so is the smirk on his lips. “Let’s get that mini poltergeist off your tail, and we’ll talk again.”      Zoë rolls her eyes. This arrogant prick doesn’t know when to stop, does he?      “Like I said; keep on dreaming. Now what the hell is taking you so long?” she judges. “It’s only six feet and the ground is already loose.”      “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe if you hadn't put a bullet in my shoulder two days ago, I’d dig a little faster!” Dean snaps, glaring at the person who has been giving him orders all day.      “Don’t be such a baby. It didn’t even hit the joint,” Zoë scoffs, blowing the dusty residue from her fingertips. “Now would you hurry it up? I have places to be.”

     Gritting his teeth, the hunter dumps another load of soil on the grass besides the grave. I swear to God, one of these days a spirit will be the last of her worries.      “Maybe if you had paid attention when you fucking lit the kid in the first place, you could’ve left town hours ago.”      “Maybe if your brother hadn’t distracted me, I would have. But you asshats tend to ruin other people's cases,” Zoë counters, rapidly.      “Hey, we are just trying to help! Do I have to remind you who’s doing the actual dirty work here?” Dean pauses his actions. “Why don’t you get off your throne of thorns, princess. I’m nearly there.”

     Zoë cocks back her head back; did he just call her ‘princess’? Her eyes shoot flames at the intolerable guy, her mouth opening to send back a remark, when the metal shovel collides with the wooden casket. The hollow sound catches Zoë’s attention and she gets up. “Fucking finally.”

     Dean hoists himself out of the hole, making room to lift up the lid and exposing the remains. He was going to offer the huntress a hand to get into the grave, but he can’t be bothered now; she can figure out how to lower herself if she’s being such a bitch. She doesn’t ask either, and sits down on the edge, sliding down with a grunt. The older Winchester watches her descent, the light of her flashlight shimmering on his features as she turns it on and places it on the corner of the coffin.

     “How are we supposed to tell if this is Laura or not? You already burned her bones to crisp,” Dean wonders, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.      “Because they aren’t burned to crisp. A salt and burn doesn’t actually destroy them like an oven would when cremated,” the huntress explains wisely, pulling on a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and putting them on as she crouches down.

     “So what’s the crime scene telling you, Horatio?” Dean wonders, shining his flashlight down on the skeleton.      Zoë doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she clears the burned clothing and half deteriorated skin and muscle tissue from the right arm of the girl in the coffin. She rubs her thumb over the radius bone, swiping away the ash and grime. There are no signs of a healed break, nor has the arm ever been screwed and bolted back together.      “This isn’t Laura,” she knows.      “Well, shit,” Dean responds, staggered. “If this ain’t her, then where the hell is she?”      “Good question.” Zoë rises again, going over the clues they have gathered so far. “Let’s head to the Shire house, get back to Sam. We gotta figure this out, fast.”

     The two hunters pack up, Dean hauling the dirt back into the grave while Zoë gathers his jacket and the torches. It takes him less longer than digging the hole in the first place, even though he has to bite through the pain. Not wanting to let Zoë know and give him a reason to scold him again, he keeps his mouth shut.

     Thirty minutes later, the driver of the Chevrolet settles down on the front seat, closing the door behind him. “Where to?”      Zoë has already pulled her laptop out, studying the map of Paragould on the screen. “Highway 412 up west, right on Reynolds Road, and then take left on Reynolds Park Road.”      Dean guides the Chevrolet back onto the street, focused on traffic while the passenger takes in the moving world outside the window. The sinking sun sends an orange glow through the Impala, reflecting on the polished hood of the classic car. They are losing light, they are losing time.

     When the driver glances aside briefly, he detects the pondering frown knitted between Zoë’s eyebrows.      “Do you happen to see any bright ideas in that thousand mile stare?” he wonders.      “We can’t split up, so we have to find Laura’s body and figure out how she relocates with the information we already have,” she says, thinking out loud.      Dean brainstorms. “Maybe the way she relocates is a clue on itself.”

     Zoë lets the air fall from her lips while thinking about that, trying to make sense of it all. “She can jump houses, but stays in a certain area. The principal’s home, the hospital, the Dawlson’s house, they are not far from each other, but what connects them?”      “When you saw her, she was wet through, right? That has to mean something,” the older Winchester brother contemplates.      “Yeah, but doesn’t make any sense. We know she didn’t drown,” she ponders, glancing aside at the driver as he turns on Reynolds Park Road.      “What if it has something to do with the cover up of her cause of death and not with her death itself?” Dean brings to mind.

     Suddenly, it clicks. Her eyes grow wide as she straightens herself, her eyes now locked on what’s in front of her. The Reynolds Park Lake comes into view, the last of the evening light reflecting on the surface. It seems peaceful and quiet at this hour, but it becomes very clear to her that these waters hold a dark secret.      “The lake…” she huffs. “The park lake has a water purification system. It provides water to the town.”      Dean follows her gaze. It only takes a second before the penny drops. “So that’s how she travels.”

     It all makes sense now. Why Sam’s vision showed the sprinklers when he saw Taylor Dawlson get attacked. Why the faucets in Zoë’s hotel room opened right before she manifested. She’s not six feet in the ground, she’s six feet under water.      “Little Laura took a swim,” Zoë realizes.

     Stunned that they actually managed to crack the case, she glances aside at the green-eyed hunter, who shares a knowing look with her, a small smirk playing on his lips. They finally know what happened, before and after the girl’s death. All they have to do now is find the remains so they can put the spirit to rest, and who knows, maybe Zoë will make that deadline after all.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 

Read chapter thirteen here

[soldefied]

note from mun: i plan to get out individual posts at some point, but who knows how long those are gonna take me. in the mean time, i give a you master post with all the important details on my babies. so, be low the cut will be the details you will need. (last updated 2021-04-18)

alexander lawson - he’s earned his fortune playing the stock market. he invests in small businesses that he can feel the person’s passion for. currently he is invested in buzz house, dante’s tattoo/coffe shop. (he has two tattoos. one he got in his younger years and the other shortly after buzz house opened). he also participates in ruby’s poker nights.

amelia whitmore - it wasn’t something she thought for her life, but amelia is a cooperate lawyer for her family’s company (which is competing with her fiancé’s company - oops). their families kind of pushed them together and now jaxon and her are engaged and in huntsville (temporarily?)

andrew parker - he dreamed of being a professional rugby player for as long as he could remember. that was until his acl injury that took him out of the game. he switched his major to journalism and is now a sports report for the local news channel. he’s a bit of a lone wolf but once you get to know him he’s a big softy.

anniston albeni

cadance penton - despite it being in her head, cade things she’s the town shame. she was left at the alter twice and has dealt with it as best as she could. her first fiancé still lives in huntsville - bennett - and the second moved to toronto after their split. she has a twin sister who gives her inspiration for her books (that she writes under a pen name so no one knows she’s the true author).

carson parker

cesar ortega

chloe browning

daphne goldstein 

declan woulfe - for lack of a better term, he’s a single father who was able to finish his surgical residency with the help of his parents and his daughter’s uncle. caro - his ex - ran out on them and he doesn’t know why. he’s still angry about it but he focused on what was important - leia. he hasn’t dated seriously since caro but he’s gone on dates (both men and women) 

jeremy chang

liam lexington

marianne santos-liney - mari is zane’s half sister but she would look up to him even if he didn’t practically raise her. growing up she was really into gymnastics. she wanted to be on the olympic team and was close to achieving that goal. that was until they were in a car accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down. she’s now an owner of a small boutique that sells handmade beauty and skincare products.

mingmei hsu - mei has only been in huntsville for a short time. formally a cast member of the real housewives of toronto, may moved to hunsville after her husband was charged and jailed for embezzlement. she has a five year old boy, spencer, and chose the small town because she has a cousin in town. 

natalia lawson  - natalia came to huntsville a little more than 6 months ago to live with her grandfather - alexander. except he isn’t her grandfather and her name isn’t natalia lawson. previously known as angelica natalia lewis, talia was placed under witness protection after testifying against her family’s criminal activity. she is constantly looking over her shoulder, worried an uncle or cousin will find her.

peyton del rosario

phelan macmurrough

raymund ando - raymund had two loving parents until he was four when he and his family were in car accident. while he walked away with a couple scratches, his father didn’t make it to the hospital. his mother on the other hand made it to the hospital and after a couple surgeries, was in a coma. his uncle made the difficult decision to pull the plug after a couple weeks and adopted raymund. he’s been in hunstville since then and is working his way to a degree in engineering.

ryan iglesias - ry didn’t think she would amount to much growing up. the youngest of four children, she was always passed over, especially when all older siblings succeeded. she has a degree in marketing and uses that to help companies with their social media presence, getting them set up and building a following. she also helps with consulting companies that already have a social media presence but need help. 

steven richards - always big on sketching and art, steven started out doing a lot of graffiti in their high school years. they were arrested a couple times, all when they were still a minor. it wasn’t until they were 25 that they put their talent to good use and trained to become a tattoo artist.

verónica valerio - they are literally two sides of a coin that couldn’t be any more opposite. in their 9-5, verónica is a personal assistant who takes pride in managing their boss’ life so that everything goes off without a hitch. but when the office closes for the day and on the weekends, verónica is in a band they started when they were still in high school - chasing sundays. they play the bar scene a much as possible and their band members are probably their best friends.

[calleo-bricriu]

I just blew apart the identities of a good 30-ish people on my mom’s side of the family, and it’s a brilliant, wonderful feeling.

There is backstory here, because it doesn’t make sense without it, so grab a snack and get reading. :)

I did the thing I'd sort of half-ass promised my mom I wouldn't do back when I had medical genetic testing done so insurance would cover a few things back in 2016.

That testing was the one where the genetic counselor asked me several times if I was "absolutely sure" I had no Ashkenazi ancestry and after the third time I got a cautious response of, "It's just that you have a lot of markers only found in those populations; the chances of them all being spontaneous mutations are next to zero." then moved on going over the rest of the results.

Insurance ended up covering what it needed to cover, and I had asked my mom about it as she's been really into tracing both sides of the family trees back as far as possible and it's been possible centuries back due to very good paper trails.

She didn't know what I meant by Ashkenazi which is fair enough as most people in the US only know the word because it shows up on medical forms as a yes/no checkbox.

"Jewish. The sort that wasn't just a conversion."

That got a LOOK, and not a confused one a vaguely frightened one and asked where I got that idea.

Told her I had to do medical genetic testing earlier in the year and the genetic counselor had mentioned it and told her in what context.

Got told to "leave it".

Whatever, I'd recently had fairly major surgery anyway so wasn't really in the mood to dig or push about it.

The next year my ex bought one of those "23 and me" type tests for me because I like completely useless things like that, and that one came back with a not insignificant amount labelled Ashkenazi in the mtDNA haplogroup, which would be on my mother's side.

I asked her about it again and showed her two genetic test results, one a formal medical one, and one that had matching genetics that was, you know, not a formal medical set of genetic testing.

Got told to leave it again.

Fine.

She'd also forgotten that she'd added an account I'd made on Ancestry so I could look through the family tree and all the scanned documents (parish records, birth, death, marriage certificates, immigration paperwork, etc...) because it all went back sometimes until the 1600s.

...and I noticed most of went back that far was on my dad's side or on really remote branches of my mom's side.

On her more closely related side, the family she had that emigrated over from Germany in the late 1800s went back to the 1700s, but she's Polish as well.

And the Polish branches stopped at 1930.

They were extensively documented in 1930, with birth certificates, parish records, and immigration papers as they'd all come over to the US from Poland--right around 1930.

For the hell of it, I saved copies of all of that documentation she'd uploaded, and also figured, hey, they're running a 'join for 3 months get a silly DNA kit!' thing, I'll do a third one.

Did a third one.

Got the same results.

Also found that it was less that there was somehow a convenient lack of parish records older than 1930, and parish records don't just disappear, parish records, especially from Europe, are typically very easy to find with minimal difficulty, but I couldn't even find these NAMES earlier than 1930, including the family names.

The thing is, my definitely influenced by being on the autism spectrum special interest period of history is 1900-1945.

One thing you remember, if you do enough more than casual reading, is one of the chief ways Jewish families both got out of Europe more easily AND into the United States more easily in the 1930s was paying to have entirely new identities forged.

New names, new notable dates in terms of births, marriages, etc, and parish records proving they were either Catholic or Protestant. Usually anyone coming from Poland would have gone with Catholic as that's one of Poland's major religions.

Any previous records that would indicate they were anything but Catholic was typically destroyed out of fear of it being dug up and used to deny emigration or immigration (and remember, the United States routinely turned away refugees fleeing Europe if they were found to be Jewish).

So, I went back.

This time, instead of asking, I took the paperwork I'd saved and printed with me, handed it to her, and said, "These are forged. They weren't Catholic. These aren't their names. Does anyone still alive have the older records?"

Her response was, "I thought I told you to leave it!"

"Does anyone alive still remember?"

"...no. Leave it alone."

Turns out, she'd figured it out based on the cutoff date of the records and knowing history in general, but never said anything because, as the conversation later brought up, "It'd throw too many people's identities into chaos." and reiterated multiple times that they converted which, technically true, but it really doesn't...count if you're forced into it out of fear of ending up dead.

That's also the side of the family that, even by 2017, I didn't speak to most of them unless forced to do so because they're a lot of very rural, very right wing, very openly neo nazi jackasses.

That last part? That part is important. That last conversation about it happened in late 2017.

My mother knows me well enough to know that the first set of thoughts through my head absolutely ran along the lines of, "I'm telling these assholes at the next family reunion because they deserve to have their entire belief system and sense of identity shattered."

Also, that's the side of the family when, back around 2012 or so, one of my definitely unpleasant cousins cornered me to talk about the "shared interest" we had in what that dumb motherfucker termed "world war 2" and got his nose broken by the cousin with purple hair and multiple tattoos for saying we had a lot in common so--saying I don't get along with that side of the family is kind of an understatement.

If they're not afraid I'll also break some bone they possess for existing within punching or steel toed boot kicking range, they openly dislike me, which is fine, it's a very mutual feeling.

And there was a long talk of, "Could you not? Just ignore them, they're stupid, but they're harmless." which was mostly "it's kind of a hassle when you physically assault one of your asshole cousins at a picnic".

By that point I rarely went to those things anyway as free food didn't make up for having to listen to them say words where I could hear them so, whatever, I told her I wouldn't say anything.

Most of them hadn't spoken to me in years anyway but a few of them stayed in spotty contact on Facebook and in an often not used outside of planning reunions group that they'd invited me to join partially so it looked like they were 'making an effort' and also because the place we use for those stupid family reunions is owned by my parents (and I'm also on the deed) so I'd be one of the few people that would have a legal right to tell them all they weren't allowed to be on the property.

I accepted the invitation, just never really paid attention to it because, again, I do not like these people on any level.

Turns out, this evening, I stopped thinking they were even remotely harmless and was reminded that they still existed because they started using that group as their apparent safe space to talk about their views on current events; it’s very possible they may have forgotten I was even in the group as they added me close to 3 years ago and I’ve never posted anything.

So, I’m sitting there after work, watching these absolute shitstain excuses for people be smug about some imagined ‘win’, and I decided to remind them I still exist.

My first, last, and only post to the group: "FYI, none of your grandparents were Catholic. They were all Jewish. You're all ethnically Jewish. See you in July! :)" posted all of my genetic test results, the family trees where they were all included because, shocker, we're all related, scans of the forged records with large notations over all the forged information, and left the group.

Blocked the rest of them, and let them blow my phone up for awhile with calls I didn't pick up, texts I didn't read, and voicemails I didn't listen to--and blocked their numbers as well.

Earlier in the evening I mentioned in Discord that I was probably going to hear from my mother about it and I did (they’d long since removed my dad from the group over the MAGA hats in the firepit thing that happened last July, and my parents share a Facebook account), but it was a short and lovely text exchange of:

"What did you do?"

"I told them."

"Oh. Well, they're all assholes anyway. We should be back on Friday."

Also, nobody is going to see them in July because LAST July after they turned up after my parents told them there wasn't going to be a reunion due to Covid, about 30 of them showed up and that was the summer that I got the text from my mom asking if I was going to stop by.

"How many MAGA hats are out in the yard?"

"Hang on, I'll ask your dad."

20 minutes later:

"About a dozen."

"How many would I be able to throw in the fire pit before it'd cause an issue?"

"Hang on, I'll ask your dad."

20 minutes later, and a reminder for those who don't know, my dad is 6'8", built like a tank even in his 70s, and has a white beard down to his waist (Pointless bonus: When he was younger it was orange and his hair was a slightly darker orange than his dad’s was.). Ex-Navy Vet, took a fish bait he was grinding hooks on to the EYE a couple years ago and just sort of calmly walked upstairs to say, “I think I need you to drive me to the ER.” to my mom (whose response was to start laughing and tell him she TOLD him to put safety goggles on so they’re both a little...odd.) about it, not generally the sort of person anyone wants to even begin to fuck with despite the fact that he’s incredibly calm and even tempered:

"8 and they all left about five minutes ago."

[citruscisco2]

You. Are. A. Man!

Five Hargreevs x Trans!Male Reader

Plot: The reader is a transgender male who is struggling with body dysphoria and tries to deal with being reminded that he was once a female. Five is there to support him and remind him that the reader is indeed a man.

Author’s Note: To be honest, it felt weird writing this. I’m a female and I don’t feel like I should be writing this. I feel like someone with these actual experiences should write this. This is also why I’m turning to my friend Axel, who is transgender and having him help me write this. I would love to write more stuff like this in the future, so please send in more requests! Also, if you’re struggling with body dysphoria, please feel free to talk to me about what’s going on. I love you guys and I wanna help ya’ll! I love you guys and remember that you’re all special in your own way! Also go check out my Wattpad!

Warnings: BODY DYSPHORIA! Basically, if you’re sensitive to any content regarding transphobia I guess.

Requested: Yes by @rainbow-depresso-expresso​

Key: E/C = Eye color; B/T = Body type; S/C = Skin color

                                                         ⁂

     My chest ached at the feeling of my binder crushing the two lumps of fat that remained hanging on my body. Then again, it’s my fault for making it so tight, but I’ve been wearing it all day. I just wanted to look completely flat; is that too much to ask for? To be born with the correct body and to have people accept you for who you are? I just want to look how I was meant to be born; I wanted to be born a man. Is that too hard? Is it too hard to be accepted for who I want to be, who I was meant to be? I’m not harming anyone, yet only a handful of people in my life support me rather than everyone. These people are the only reason why I stay sane. They’re the only reason I haven’t given up my dream of having top surgery. Though, the topic of transitioning from female to male didn’t settle well with my parents.

   Here I am, standing in front of my body mirror with tears brimming my (E/C) eyes which were glaring at my (B/T) (S/C) body. I hate it. I hate my body. I hate every damn thing about it! I couldn’t even look at myself without feeling the dysphoria creeping up my back like it’s a damn spider. I can’t even look down without seeing the two lumps of fat on my chest and what lies between my legs, I can’t even tell my parents about what I’m feeling because I know what their views on transgender people, and they’re not positive.

     It hurts to know that you can’t become who you want to be; who you are meant to be. It fucking hurts to hear people call you something that you’re not and to be constantly reminded that you’re different, and when people think of different, they think, “Oh, that’s weird.” Weird eventually leads to people thinking the people or things that are weird as inferior to them. It’s beneath them. Do you know how much it hurts to hear your loved ones bash the people in your community just because they’re different and think that they’re weird? They say those things then turn right to you and tell you that they love you for who you are. No, they don’t, but then again, they don’t know I’m the very thing they despise.

     It’s scary to know they if they found out your secret, you’ll change right before their eyes into a hideous, mutated monster. They’ll kick you out, act like they don’t know you, humiliate you and force you to wear the clothes they want you to wear, and they’ll do whatever they can do to convince you it’s a phase and you aren’t who you think you are. I’m terrified of the day they remind me constantly of the things that make me what they want me to be.

     I’m so fucking insecure about how my shirt hugs my body, and how I can’t wear underwear without wanting to bawl my eyes out because they’re not boxers. Sure, I have other insecurities that everyone else has, such as how some people don’t like the size of their nose, the color of their eyes, or even the amount of fat they have on their bodies. I can’t change myself though without anyone really noticing what I’m trying to achieve. I had to convince my parents I was just going through a phase just so I could get my hair cut short enough to where it chopped off some of the dysphoria I carried around.

     You wanna know what hurts the most, though? Fearing that the love of your life is going to leave you for who you are. You fear that soon he’ll realize the mistake he’s made and walk right out the door. He’ll lose feelings and start to distance himself, whether he realizes it or not. He said he loved you, but he can’t just be with you. Maybe somewhere he still loves you, right? He loved you, did he though? If he really loved you, he would’ve stayed and worked shit out, but instead, he became disgusted with who he associated himself with.

     It first starts with him not wanting to kiss you in public. You think that he just hasn’t been comfortable with PDA lately and wants to limit it, so you brush it off. You don’t even point it out to him when you’re alone and continue to tolerate it. Soon enough it escalates into not wanting to hold your hand in public. It hurts, but you don’t bother him. It’s not until he stops doing these things even when you’re alone that it starts to bother you. It hurts, but you’re too scared to bring it up and accidentally start a fight. This isn’t the first time something like this happened to you, so you didn’t push him. You’ve learned from your mistakes, haven’t you? Your world comes crashing down and the nightmares you’ve been having for the past week finally come true. He doesn’t bother saying that he’s sorry, or that he wishes you two could just stay friends. No, he just walks right out the door without even looking back at you to see if you’re okay because he knows you’re not. He knows he broke your already cracked heart into dust, and he couldn’t give two shits.

     Why would he though? Why would he want a monster like you? An abomination, that’s what you are. He couldn’t stand the thought of associating himself with you. He couldn’t handle the stares the two of you received in public. At first, you both just assumed it was because you were both men, but now he realizes it’s more than that. It’s because you’re trying to change yourself into someone you’re not. He was ashamed to be seen with you; to love you. He had to leave, he needed to. It was for the sake of his reputation he had said. He couldn’t stand to be with you because of the fact of who you are; of what you are. It’s all because you’re transgender.

     As these thoughts ran through my head, my eyes grew increasingly more blurry due to salty tears blocking my vision. I felt both my bottom lip and knees tremble as my breathing grew more ragged, and it suddenly felt as if all air was cut off from my lung. My eyes screwed shut and my lips tightened shut, forcing myself to conceal my sobs. My legs gave out from underneath me, causing me to collapse to the carpeted ground of my bedroom floor and lower my head. I couldn’t look in that damned mirror anymore. A heart-wrenching wail forced itself from my body, and the sobs just came pouring out. My hands found themselves buried in my short (H/C) hair, tugging so hard at the strands that I thought I was going to rip them from my own scalp. Sob after sob, I continued to cry for what seemed like forever. Both my head and heart pounded in agony. My hands trembled and my chest heaved up and down at an increasingly fast pace as I tried to gasp for a single breath between my cries.

     Fear shot up my spine as my chest ached for a different reason. I couldn’t breathe. I tugged harder at my hair and clawed at the back of my neck, hoping more pain would force my body to fight for its life and help me regain my breath. It felt like a lump of some wort was lodged in my throat, causing my body to heave forward as if I were gagging. Not to mention my nose was clogged up with snot. My vision grew foggy and my face grew hot. Would this be how I die? A pathetic mess?

     I felt two arms quickly wrap around my waist and pull me into their chest. I could feel the rough texture of their jacket, but their shirt under the jacket felt smooth and soft. I could faintly hear their voice, shushing me and telling me something. They sounded calm, not panicked at all. Their touch was gentle as they brought my head to their chest, gently stroking my back with one hand and using the other to pull me close. It was still loose enough to where it didn’t feel as if I was suffocating.

     I saw the familiar umbrella tattoo on the person’s wrist and the logo I had seen so many times on the person’s jacket. Only one Umbrella Academy member still wore their jacket, mostly because they were stuck in a teenager’s body and those were the only clothes that fit him. Not to mention he was too stubborn to go out and by clothes for boys his age. Physically his age, that is. I never pushed Five too many times to buy the clothes I’d die to see him wear because I just wanted him comfortable and happy. Plus, who am I to hell him what he can and cannot wear?

     I was able to faintly smell the cologne he wore daily, calming me down just a tad. My throat finally ceased and allowed me to gasp for a small bit of air, but it didn’t stop me from hyperventilating. Five gently rocked me back and forth as best as he could, continuing to softly shush me and rub small circles on my back. I could finally make out what he was saying.

     “It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbled, humming a soft tune that always seemed to calm me down. “I’m gonna need you to do something for me, dear, can you do that?” I whimpered pathetically and managed to nod in affirmation. He nods and continues. “I want you to breathe with me, okay?” I nod once more, desperate to come down from my panic. He starts his breathing off at a moderately fast pace, almost matching with my own. I was able to match my breathing with his own as I gripped his dark blazer. His breathing gradually slowed down, and as did mine. This wasn’t the first time Five’s had to help me, so I knew what to expect.  Once my breathing was stable enough, he spoke again. “Do you need anything?” he softly asked, reaching over and grabbing a soft blanket that laid upon my bed.

     “You,” I managed to choke out. My eyes burned from the salty tears, and my head ached from crying. He nods and drapes the blanket around my body and tilts my head up so he can see my face. His eyes are glazed over with empathy and care. He gently strokes my cheek with his thumb and gently presses his lips against my forehead.

     “I’m not going anywhere my dear,” he assures me, tightening his embrace just a tad bit. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” I shake my head no at his question. “Do you want to talk about something good that happened today?” I’m silent at his question. Taking a deep breath, fluttering my eyes shut and trying to focus on speaking properly.

     “I-I was able to put to...together an outfit that-that made me feel really masculine today,” I start off, pausing as I felt my voice grow shaky as I spoke. I breathed slowly through my nose and continued. “It-It was a pair of khakis that stopped at my knees, and-and the polo Klaus had given me for my birthday.”

     “The light green one with the lemons on it?” I nod in affirmation. My heart swoons at the fact he remembers something as little as that.

     “Yeah, I-I was also able to finish the load of homework that the school gave us,” I added. He smiles softly and kisses the top of my head.

     “See, I told you you could get it done! I’m so proud of you,” he praises softly, keeping his voice low. He continues to ask me questions about my day, focusing on the positive aspects of it.

     With a clear and calm mindset, I know none of that would happen with Five. Sure, it’s happened in the past, but Five’s different - very different considering he can teleport and he’s mentally an old man. I know I can always rely on him when it comes to shit like this. He knows I can be a bit much during times like these, and he knows that I’ll end up looking pretty fucking gross. He doesn’t care though. He’s seen a lot of shit in his life, so a red face covered in tears and snot isn’t gonna bother him. He loves me, and he’s told me this an abundance amount of times.

     After helping me clean up, we both lay down on my bed with my back against his chest. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His chin rest on the top of my head, humming the same soft melody he sang earlier. I felt my eyes droop as a wave of exhaustion came crashing over me. My eyes would fall shut and snap back open as I would realize I was slowly falling asleep, but falling asleep meant I wouldn’t be able to hear his voice anymore.

     “Get some sleep, my dear, I’ll be here when you wake,” he mumbled softly. That was the last thing I heard before falling asleep peacefully in his arms with a small smile on my face and a heart full of love.

[until-i-devour-you]

MY TAKE ON MARILYNMANSON AND THE ACCUSATIONS AGAINST HIM

⚠️⚠️⚠️ TW: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, abuse. ⚠️⚠️⚠️

-

It's difficult for me to write this.

Whoever knows me, is well aware about my love for Brian Warner, aka Marilyn Manson.

I owe him my Life.

Before meeting my current friends, I cutted myself every single day, and when I did only that I considered it a "good day". On bad days, I used to starve myself, to sleep without blankets even if my room was freezing cold, I often thought about suicide. My cat Pulce saved me too, but I also remember all the times that I didn't kill myself because "if I do it, I'll never be able to listen to Brian's music again". I'm not good with expressing my emotions, and I used his songs to explain them to my therapist, years ago, because she was a fan too. His music and his interviews, some of the things he said, helped me handle my depression and he helped me to be proud of myself, to accept my transexuality and to be who I am now. A lot of my original characters and stories are inspired by him, or by some of his songs or even makeups. The way I want to dress or to do my makeup - but I'm still too insecure for those, rip - are influenced by him. With his songs and some of his speeches I often thought "hey, mood!" and finally I felt like I found someone who could understand me in an household where my parents often misunderstand or criticize me all the time. I always planned to get a tattoo quoting one of his songs after my top surgery - I'll get the surgery in years, at the moment I'm broke, rip - and the tatoo was going to say "the Wormboy gets his wings". When I can't sleep, only Brian's voice truly helps me to relax enough to rest.

There's a lot more, but heh, I think you get the point.

I love him so much and that's why I feel so bad about the accusations against him.

No, I'm not going to side with him. Surprisingly enough, I'm not going to defend him blindly.

At first, when I heard about what Evan Rachel Wood said about him, I was ready to defend him, I'm not going to lie about it. I even asked to myself why she didn't speak sooner but it took me like- 10 minutes to stop being a jerk and to remind myself that women find it difficult to speak against someone who's that famous without people attacking them, blaming them just because he's famous, it took me 10 minutes to stop being a coward because the idea of my "emotional support celebrity" being a piece of shit terrified me.

It still terrifies me and a part of me still wants to hope that this situation is not true.

Reading what his multiple victims say about him is heartbreaking and my heart goes out for them all.

I'm still waiting for a trial. At the moment, I packed all the things I have about him in a box, and only when I'll have proofs about who is in the right I'll decide what to do with those things. And okay, part of me still hopes he's innocent, okay, but I'm siding with Evan Rachel Wood and the other victims, because I hate who blames the victims just because they're women.

"What if they're lying?" my mom asked. Well, it that happens, I'll admit I was in the wrong and I'll return to listen to Brian's music. Until then, I'll keep an eye on the situation, I'll try to understand everything I can about it. I did the same thing with Johnny Depp: I sided with Amber Heard, I hoped a little he was innocent but still sided with the "victim" and when I had the proof that he was completely innocent, I supported him completely. Maybe it's not the best thing to do, but blaming someone who says they're the victim and say things like "they're doing it for attentions and money" feels and is extremely wrong, no matter how much I love the celebrity we're talking about.

"Oh, you could separate the art from the artist!" I know, I already do it with Harry Potter, for example, but in this case, I can't. Brian is so important in my Life that I can only take this situation like a personal one. My intrusive thoughts are already starting to say things like "if he really is an abusive monster, you are too because you're influenced by him too much to not be an abusive monster yourself" so...

That's my take on this situation. I can't cancel all the good things Brian did to me indirectly. I can't and I won't. But if it's necessary, I'll completely stop to support him, even if it'd be a difficult thing to do because of how much I love his art.

- Logan

---

EDIT: after months of research, I now stand with Marilyn Manson. There are plenty of proofs that Evan Rachel Wood and her friends are lying.

[ghostlyben]

( large empty libraries full of old books, lovecraftian horrors and scary movies on a stormy night, warm cup of coffee on a rainy day ) – wait ! Is that ( Justin H. Min ) ?? No , according to their file that’s ( Ben Hargreeves  ) from ( The Umbrella Academy). i heard they are ( Thirty ) and ( he ) ( is ) known for being ( optimistic ) , but also (reclusive ). if you ’re looking for ( him ) you’d have a good chance looking in ( Riverdale Public Library  ). it’s very clear that they are a (  libra ) since they have (The Fall ) playing by ( half alive ) on repeat. hopefully they’ll have what it takes to survive !

BASIC INFO →

Name: Ben Hargreeves

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Sexuality: Demisexual

Relationship Status: Single

Species: Human

Occupation: Librarian

Birthday: October 1, 1990

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Living arrangement: Ben lives in a two bedroom, two bath apartment near the south side. He prefers the room furthest from the door with the fire escape. He doesn’t have much, the room feels more temporary than homely.  He has put up a few posters of old horror movies and has a bookshelf full of books.

APPEARANCE →

Eye color: Brown

Hair color: Black

Height: 5′10′’

Scars: A large deep scar on his stomach (above the navel)

Tattoos:  an umbrella on wrist

Style: Mostly black. Sweaters, hoodies. button down shirts & dress pants (for work), black jeans, black boots, & converse.

FAVOURITES →

Colors: Black & white

Entertainment: Reading, watching movies, video games, drawing, & training

Animal: Octopus

Drink: Coffee, tea, water, & caprisuns

Comfort food: Ice cream

EARLIER LIFE →

Ben didn’t exactly have what anyone would call a normal childhood. He’d been adopted by an eccentric rich man who also adopted six other children born that same day, same time. While that sounds like a strange dream come true, it was more of a nightmare for Ben. They were each given a number rather than a name. Ben was Number Six. It wouldn’t be until he was much older did his adoptive mother, Grace, give him a real name. With those numbers, however, came his father’s true motives. They were not his children, but his legacy. He trained them relentlessly. Physically and mentally they were pushed daily. While Ben did well and made his father proud, or as proud as he could given the expectations. But he was weaker than the others or so he was told. He needed surgery at one point because he harmed himself during one of his father’s ‘missions’ by pushing himself too far.

Ben tried relentlessly to make his father proud. While his siblings loved him, he could never seem to gain the love of his father and eventually he accepted he never would. He worked hard to keep meeting his goals, but that came far sooner than he expected. When Ben was fifteen, he was taken. He’d been sitting on the front steps reading, something he was told not to do, but he needed some alone time. An old business partner of his father’s came by and took Ben with him. He hoped to use Ben as a bargaining chip to get back what was his, but instead Sir Hargreeves told the man he had all he needed since he’d stolen his property. The man threw Ben out on the streets and he was left on his own.

Ben went into foster care, he was taken in by an older funeral director and her wife. They raised Ben as their own and did everything they could to set him up for adulthood. When Ben went to college, he was reunited with Klaus. The two grew close and it was nice to have part of his family back.

The Last 7 Years →

Ben never felt happier than he did in college. He was able to create the life he wanted and dreamed of as a kid. But things took a turn when Ben was getting his masters. He was still living with Klaus who had gotten himself tied up in a local cult. When Ben tried to help him out, it nearly cost him his life.

Shortly after this, Ben and Klaus hit the road looking for a place where their past couldn’t reach. The brothers ended up in Riverdale, a small town where they could hide away for a little while at least. Ben got a job as a librarian and is hoping to settle down and make a quiet life for himself there even just for a little while.

Wanted Connections →

Klaus Hargreeves

Allison Hargreeves

Vanya Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves

Luther Hargreeves