#her family!!!!!!!!

[possibilistfanfiction]

fuck dude i spent the past two days reading the entirety of girls against god and catching up on we lived happily during the war and i s2g it’s the most i’ve cried in YEARS what the fuck bea’s trans niece?? it all must mean so much to bea?? what the FUCK oh my god i am so emotional i have so many feeling ily tysm for your service 🥹 (also BIG fan of footy au. big big fan. you are incredible) THANK YOU

[bea's niece! love her! here u go]

//

you’re thrilled that your parents have decided to spend a few days away in ojai at some winery aunt bea recommended, because as much as you love them, unlimited and mostly unsupervised time with your aunts is pretty much the best thing in the world.

they’d planned to take you to a cool, nice dinner at this trendy place asaad had seen on tiktok, which honestly sounded fun. plus, it’s mexican food, which is basically your favorite other than your nani’s lamb biryani. and it had seemed exciting and fun but then you had looked through your entire suitcase and didn’t love any of the tops you packed, and you want to do your makeup but you’re not that good at it yet, and usually your mama helps you, and —

you sniffle and take a calming breath, wipe the tears from under your eyes. it’s okay, you tell yourself. you can ask for help. your aunts love you, and your big brother loves you, and sometimes, of course, he teases you but not about this. never about this. if you felt bad enough you didn’t want to go out, no one would be mad at you.

you take another big breath and then put on one of aunt bea’s old t-shirts she’d accidentally left in london last year and then had laughed and told you to keep it. you walk down the stairs to your aunts’ bedroom. asaad and aunt bea are tending to the herb garden outside, and you’re not surprised to see aunt ava seemingly emptying a quarter of their closet onto their big bed. you linger in the doorway, your heart caught a little in your throat, but then aunt ava looks up and stills, then offers you a smile that always feels warm, and calm, and you don’t ever wonder why aunt bea fell in love with them.

‘what’s up, kiddo?’

you take a second to compose yourself because you really don’t want to cry; you’ve spent enough time around the both of them that you know aunt ava understands how to be patient and let you arrive at what you need to say in your own time. ‘my mama usually helps with my makeup.’

‘ah,’ aunt ava says, already excited. ‘what’s the vibe your feeling? also, what are you wearing? i can’t decide.’ she gestures to the bed with her cane. ‘as you can see.’

it gets you to laugh, a knot in your chest loosening. ‘um, maybe i can borrow one of your crops? my camo cargo pants, i think, and my new cdg converse.’

‘ooh,’ ava says, ‘love. and yes, of course you can borrow anything you want. i’m still mad you’re big enough they fit you, but i’ll forgive you. growing up is better than the alternative.’

you frown at that but aunt ava doesn’t seem bothered, or sad or upset.

‘hmm. morbid. my bad.’

‘you good?’

‘i’m awesome.’ she smiles and gestures for you to actually come into the room. her hair falls in easy waves past her shoulders, longer than when you’d last seen her for eid, and it’s easy to hug her tightly, to settle into her gentle embrace, to smell the detergent that reminds you of aunt bea, and aunt ava’s subtle light perfume, and the lavender lotion you get to use every time you’re here. you know he understands, in a different way than aunt bea but in a way that matters too, that flows like water and makes you feel like you’re lifting your face to the sun, what it feels like to be bigger than what the world expects of you and your body.

your parents are the best; they’d gotten you hormone blockers immediately when you asked, and your mama and auntie had taken you shopping for pretty bras in the fanciest shops in london last month, and your dad practices your drag routines with you after football practice.

but still: people who feel it, people who know — your family, in the deepest way. you pray five times a day, in thanks, usually. blessings, you know, even now.

‘the vibe is, like, i don’t know. subtle but glitter?’

aunt ava squeezes you. ‘incredible. i’m obsessed already. maybe a glitter eyeliner?’

you relax: aunt ava loves you.

‘do you have your makeup here? i have, like, enough fun shit — uh, stuff — to cover us for any look you want, but obviously not foundation or concealer for you. but if you don’t have any, we can send your aunt and brother.’ she laughs. ‘asaad can be your skin tone match.’

'i have some makeup.' you let yourself take a deep breath, because aunt ava is happy; she wants to do makeup with you, and let you borrow clothes, and go out to a cool restaurant. it's not a duty, or because you're family — when your aunts get to help you be yourself, it makes them happy. 'but it's mostly boring.'

'the basics are very important, though.' she smiles. 'well, go grab any of yours that you want to use, then come meet me back down here. you can look through mine and use any you want. and i'm the prettiest person i know, so i can help.'

'number one?'

'way too like beatrice,' she says, 'mean. for no reason! but i'll humor you.' ava bites their bottom lip in contemplation. 'well, i met janelle monae last year. and shangela comes into my bar often.'

'you live a wild life,' you say, and aunt ava laughs. 'so, third?'

'yeah,' she confirms. 'well, fourth, maybe.'

'who's third on the list, then?'

'you, of course.'

it makes you blush, but you turn quickly so aunt ava can't really see. you know she knows, but, like, it's fine. whatever. maybe she's the prettiest person you've ever seen and she's kind and funny and smart and owns her own bar, but she's also your aunt, who you've watched throw up in a bush after she drank too much champagne at brunch one time, and she always falls asleep on aunt bea's shoulder when you go to a movie. there's no reason to be embarrassed, and there's also no reason, you remind yourself, to not want to feel pretty.

you get your setting spray and foundation and concealer and their respective brushes, and then aunt ava shows you through a lot of makeup. you don't think you'll ever want to own this much makeup in your entire life, and it's kind of funny because aunt ava doesn't really wear much most days, but she just — she loves it. she loves sharing with you, and explaining why she got stuff that doesn't really make sense, and eventually you pick out a gold eyeliner to use. aunt ava makes sure not to cover your freckles completely when she helps with your foundation, and then, when you try to do the eyeliner yourself and mess it up, she hands you a makeup wipe without any judgement or impatience.

you finish with some mascara, and you sit and talk and listen to music in the background while aunt ava does her own makeup. she lets you pick out any crop you want, and she decides, after a fair amount of deliberation, on a sundress that you know is aunt bea's favorite on her. gay, you think, and then say aloud because you're sure aunt ava will appreciate it. and she does: she laughs, and aunt bea kisses her after she knocks on the doorframe and then smiles softly when she sees the two of you.

'you both look amazing,' she says. 'asaad has already freshened up, so i just need to change, and then we can go. i'm confident it we leave in ten minutes, we'll make our reservation time.'

'what if we left in twelve minutes?' aunt ava asks.

aunt bea just ignores her and walks to their closet and lightly closes the door, which seems to delight aunt ava. she snorts.

'love her.'

'you guys are weird.'

'just wait until you have a partner or partners. if you're doing it right, which i'm sure you eventually will, because you're the best, it's all just the best kind of weird.'

they're right, you know. you get to be surrounded by all kinds of love and you've always gotten to see it every day. but still, when aunt bea walks out in tailored slacks and loafers and a loose linen button up with intricate stitching, a little mascara on her face, her hair with a few strands of silver in it now, less than your dad's but mostly the same — you can breathe in another way. you have the careful way your mama helps you wash your hair every week when you told her you wanted to grow it out, and how she always takes you with her to get your threading done together; you have your dad's genuine joy whenever he takes you to women's football matches, and the way he cries at shows with queer storylines that end happily; you have your brother and the way he always, always, makes sure his group of friends never misgenders you — ever since you came out, none of them have treated you any differently at all; you have aunt ava, whose identities are as big and open and exuberant as she is.

and you have your aunt beatrice, you smiles sincerely and, of course, notices your eyeliner. she taught you how to shave your legs when you were too nervous to ask your mama, for whatever reason that seemed confusing at the time in your head. she plays tennis with you and she's never mean but she also never lets you win; if you ever beat her one day, it will be on your own merit. you're pretty sure she could literally kill someone twice her size with one hand, but she has never been anything but gentle toward you, your entire life.

she tucks a pair of sunglasses in the V of her shirt and puts on one of her fancy watches with a thick band. she smiles at you. 'ready to go?'

'mhm. i'm hungry.'

she kisses aunt ava's temple and then puts a gentle hand to the small of your back, ushers you out of their room and to the foyer where asaad is waiting on the couch. it's still warm and sunny and gorgeous. aunt bea makes sure the front door is locked and then takes one last look in the mirror. this smile is all for herself, one you've had so many times, one that, on her, lights you up from the inside. she fluffs her hair and then nods, and you get it, unspoken: she must like who she sees looking back at her.

when she sits on your bed later that night, after you've all eaten more than your fair share and aunt ava had done a lot of moaning over some shishito peppers, after she'd driven everyone home and you had all changed into pajamas and watched half of a movie while she and aunt ava had a glass of wine — you curl into her hip and put your head on her lap.

you want to thank her — for being who she is, for being part of your family, for loving you — and everyone she cares for — in this quiet, stoic, unrelentingly gentle way. but you're sleepy, and you don't want to cry. she runs a gentle hand up and down your spine.

'did you have a good day?'

'yeah, aunt bea.' you think of the beach and aunt ava's laugh and your brother's gentle insistence that he hold every door open for the three of you; how good the food was and how you'd seen bella ramsey at a table and asaad had blushed so hard you had laughed. you think of the quiet way aunt bea had gotten aunt ava her medications in the morning at breakfast, a kiss to the top of her head. a long, long life together. a home, with you included, in any way you want. 'i had the best day.'

[pirateprincessjess]

When I was a kid my family pretended to get raptured so I would think I was left behind on earth while they all went to heaven.

I was like 8 years old and my sister and mom had gotten really into the Left Behind novels (bible fan fic about the rapture). In the books when the rapture happened the clothes that people were wearing when they got raptured were left behind in neatly folded piles.

One day when I was getting home from school my family decided that they would leave piles of neatly folded clothes around the house, and then hide in the basement.

The intended effect was that I would get home and see the clothes then, think that my family had been raptured and that I wasn’t good enough to get into heaven… or something?

The problem was that I had never read these books, and didn’t really think about the rapture very often. There was no reason that I would see some laundry on the floor and think “The rapture happened and I’ve been abandoned by God! I’ll never see my family again!! Oh nooo!!!!”

I just sat down and watched cartoons and eventually my family got bored and revealed that they were all hiding in the basement.

It’s a good thing I didn’t understand the joke, otherwise that shit would have been traumatic.

[nymph1e]

On Discomfort and Morality

My father finds gay men uncomfortable.

He's told me before that it's like a knee-jerk for him. Something he doesn't consciously control. He sees two men behaving romantically, and his body reacts with mild discomfort.

In the 1960s, when he was in high school, most of the boys in his form thought he was gay on the simple fact that he wasn't homophobic. He wouldn't participate in insulting queer people, he didn't care if someone was gay, he wouldn't have a problem hanging out with gay people. So people thought he was gay. That's how prevalent homophobia was in his formative years.

When I was 10, my dad told me very seriously that Holmes and Watson were gay. That it was obvious from the literature and the time period that they were meant to be a gay couple. When I was 14 and I came out to my parents as bi, when my mum was upset my dad ripped into her for it. Told her that she was being stupid, that it was my life to live how I wanted to and that she needed to get over herself.

My dad formed my views on censorship: that being that it was completely ridiculous and thoroughly evil. He didn't believe in censorship of any kind. If I asked him a question about sex, he answered it honestly. When I was 12 and I asked him about homosexuality, still young and uncertain, he told me that there was nothing wrong with it. That it was just how some people were. That there was likely an evolutionary reason for it. And that for some people it was uncomfortable on an instinctual level.

He taught me that just because you're uncomfortable with something, doesn't make it wrong. He also taught me that most people don't understand this.

I see a lot of this on the internet as of the last few years. The anti shipping movement, the terf movement, the anti ace movement. It all stems from discomfort that people have crossed wires into believing means wrong. Really every -ism and -phobia out there stems from this same fundamental aspect of humanity.

The next time you see something and you automatically think it's disgusting, or wrong, or immoral, I invite you to ask yourself: is this actually wrong or does this just make me uncomfortable?

[malinaa]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

[thatrandomblogsays]

[peachiiwren]

ep 10: noticing a pattern here

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

I'm sorry for the cruelty of this picture, but I couldn't see Amina and not share her story. Trigger warning: eye injury (bloody eyes).

Amina Ghanem, 13 years old, says: We were sleeping and we heard the sound of tanks when they came and walked over the caravan in which I, my father and my siblings lived. The tank squeezed us inside the tin all night, and we were ran over, until the morning. And when they finally let us out, I found that my father and my little sister have been killed. Now we've been brought here.

She tells her story in this video with her little brother beside her. They're all on their own. Their mother is outside of Gaza and cannot get in or get them out. They have no way of communication, their father and sister are killed.

The eyewitness of Genocide.

[savagegood]

"No matter what we do, we can't change the way people see us." "You changed the way you see me... didn't you?"

found family and some of the allegory in NIMONA (2023)

[archaeos]

If anyone wants to directly help a Palestinian family reunite in the UK, this young graduate student is trying to get her daughter out of Gaza. The UK government makes the visa process as difficult as possible, and the only thing that makes it easier is money. This fundraiser has already raised a good sum, but I know from experience that every penny counts, so please donate or share if you can.

[rwsdarw]

got sick recently so here sillies

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Circus baby or not, she’s still Michael’s little sister,,

[beelittle]

It’s christmas and i needed to get something out

So here’s the forger family, in all their slightly disastrous holiday spirit.

[con-lentitud-poderosa]

Diversity win! Both F/F and M/M shippers are ignoring the story for the sake of shipping

[pouletpourri]

I know the circustances didn't make it avaliable, but..I kinda wish we had a farewell scene

[beybuniki]

[littlefankingdom]

Talia introduced Damian to Bruce as "their second child", and now Bruce is mentally panicking because there's another one, somewhere, when this unspoken first child is Jason.