#my moms grandparents were born and raised in ireland

[weepingpussywillowtree]

One account of generational trauma

tw: discussion of alcoholism, abuse, war, eating disorders, abortion, and myriad other upsetting topics.

This is sort of a writing exercise for me. its quite long and probably depressing. no need to read, I just wanted to put it somewhere.

It probably started before this, but to my knowledge it starts with my great-grandparents.

My maternal grandmother's parents came over from Ireland before she was born. Her father was a lawyer, her mother was a housewife. They were both alcoholics. He dies when grandma is around fourteen, and she is thrust into the role of family caretaker for her mother and sisters. Grandma takes care of great-grandma and her youngest sister, who is intellectually and physically disabled, until they both die. My mom tells stories about how when great-grandma got dementia, she would accidentally drink cleaning supplies because she used hide alcohol in them and would forget which bottles were liquor. These stories are apparently meant to be funny.

My maternal grandfather is orphaned at birth; his mother dies bringing him into the world. His father, having no idea what to do with a dead wife and a new baby, gives him up to an orphanage. No one knows much of anything else about grandpa's childhood. The topic is avoided in discussion, even after he is dead.

On my dad's side, grandma is raised by strict parents. Her mother is exacting and critical, and judgemental of grandma's size. Grandma is bulimic, and has been her entire life. Dad is conceived out of wedlock when grandma is a teenager. Her and grandpa have a shotgun wedding, grandma's mother is not happy about this either. Grandma's father is abusive. He sits in the basement of the house chain smoking, a beer always in his hand. Everyone is afraid of him. He only emerges from the basement to exact his wrath on the residents of the house. Great-grandma is much happier after he dies.

Grandpa rarely talks about anything except bird watching and how he dodged the Vietnam draft. Dad says that grandpa's dad was a world war two veteran who's parents came over from Sicily, and that he had darker skin like grandpa. He was extremely racist against Japanese people because he claimed that during the war when he was a prisoner, they locked him in a cage and called him a monkey and some other nasty racial slurs. Grandpa doesn't talk to any of his extended family. He has never mentioned his mother. A quick google search shows that his extended family that remain are mostly involved in lots of crime and domestic abuse.

My mother was abused by both her parents. Grandpa beat her and her siblings when they misbehaved. He used to say "this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you". Grandma also used corporal punishment but she was more emotionally abusive. She told her kids there was something wrong with them, that they were born wrong. She picked favorites and iced people out. Her opinion was law in the house, always. She was emotionally cold and distant. It is eerie to me how much this account mimics my own mother's abuse of me.

Dad's mom taught him to be bulimic. Its something he still can't kick. Its a large reason i've struggled with disordered eating myself. His father is usually incredibly docile and quiet, but he has a secret explosive temper that is terrifying when it is revealed. Dad and his brother are both spoiled and abused. They are pitted against each other by their parents, smothered, subject to grandpa's temper, and grandma's paranoia and whims. Grandma forces my father to take a cocktail of cold and flu medicines most days when he is a child because she cannot accept that he is allergic to her cats. Similar stories dominate my father's childhood experience. Keeping up with the joneses is paramount and family trauma's and secrets are buried at all costs, usually with the assistance of binge eating.

As a child, my mother is cruel and exacting. Emotional vulnerability is forbidden and harshly punished. When she punishes us, she says that it is harder for her to do than it is for us to experience. Food deprivation, verbal abuse, and extreme isolation (months at a time alone in the house, which is possible because we are homeschooled) are favorite punishments, but being dragged, hit, kicked, and having hard or sharp objects thrown at you comes standard as well. She picks favorites on a rotating basis, but broadly, my brother is spoiled, my sister is ignored and looked down on, and I am hated with an unprecedented vitriol. My aunt says grandma always preferred her boys to her girls.

As the oldest girl, I am hated, but also expected to raise my siblings alongside my mother, and take on more domestic tasks. Despite my usual willingness to go along with this, as well as my tendency to follow every rule I'm given, I'm given the moniker 'queen bitch' by the whole family, a nickname passed down from my mom's oldest sister. Mom tells me that I was born with something wrong with me that I can never fix, I just have to learn how to suppress it. She tells our extended family that she believes I am insane.

On the top shelf in our kitchen, sit two angel bear beanie babies. Mom tells us they are my brother and I's dead siblings that we shared a womb with. I think about them on my birthday and wonder if they would have liked me. If we could have played together. I am older when I learn they are the result of a voluntary pregnancy reduction. Mom says dad forced her into it, saying he would leave her and withdraw support if she wanted to keep all four of us. Other relatives say that mom decided to do it independently to reduce our chance of having severe disabilities or dying straight after we were born. My guess is that neither story is completely true. Mom wants to bury the remains of the two fetuses and have a service. Dad takes them in the middle of the night and leaves them at the dump. The idea that anyone might know about this procedure is too shameful.

Dad spends most of his time in the basement or living room, eating and playing video games. We learn not to bother or interrupt him at a young age. He's usually quiet and nervous, but he has an explosive and terrifying temper. At night, I hear him purging from his binges in the bathroom. I ask my mother why dad is always sick and she makes a face. When dad does spend time with us, he alternates between spoiling us with all the latest toys and experiences and piles of junk food, and taking his anger out on us. As I'm older, I become his emotional support. He treats me like a second wife, and regularly calls me by my mother's name by accident. He leaves the bedroom door open while masturbating and leaves pornography open on the family laptop. When he has a mental breakdown and ends up in a psychiatric hospital when I'm a teenager, I learn he was sexually abused by a sports coach as a child. I learn he was not allowed alone with us when we were infants after he left hand shaped bruises on my body for crying when I was only a few days old.

I am filled with sadness as a child, a deep sense of tragedy and pain that I don't understand the gravity nor the source of. Now, I understand, at least partly, where this feeling comes from.

I only see my family a few times a year. My sister is in a cult, seeking the attention and acceptance she never got as a child, and dating a man twenty years her senior who recently got out of prison for murdering a woman by beating her to death. My brother is seen as gentle, reliable, and an intellectual genius, but he has a manipulative streak and a nasty temper, which becomes violent if you push him too hard. I worry for his girlfriend. My mother is in a second marriage with a man who's first marriage ended when he choked his wife in a fit of rage. She has no friends, and bemoans to me how alone she is. But when I visit, she begins belittling and picking fights with me within a day. I wonder how much of it she means and how much of it is an echo of what her mother told her. Dad is alone. He does crossfit, goes to concerts with friends, takes care of his dogs, and is successful in his career. He went to therapy after the divorce, and is on anti-anxiety medication. I know that he will never apologize to me, but I'm happy for him.

When I was deciding if I'd ever have children, I asked myself a lot of questions, but one of them was if I could commit to breaking the cycle. If, when faced with the typical difficulties of parenting, I could do something other than fall back on what my family has been doing to each other for generations. And the honest answer is that I don't know. There are many other reasons I don't want children, but answer to this particular question is why even if I wanted children, I would be very hesitant to have them. Because here's the truth: after everything I said about my parents, it seems obvious to you, the reader, that they are recreating the traumas they experienced, but both of them thought that they were breaking the cycle. That they were treading new ground. And the idea of that, that I could have a child and bring them into a soup of pain, tragedy, and confusion, all while sincerely believing that I was different, terrifies me more than anything.

Mom gave me scars on my forearm with her fingernails when I was eleven. In a few days, I'm getting a new tattoo in that same spot. I want that part of my body back, and so I'm taking it. I'm going to make it beautiful again. I woke up a few months ago, and realized that I was happy, and that for the first time in my life, I wanted to be alive. I look at myself in the mirror, and I see a little girl who deserves good things, who needs someone to protect and take care of her. My family can never be those people, but I can be that person for myself.

[chronichlesofnillory]

When the discord could finally have an actual conversation about how weird and rickety the line of blood % and family history and culture all interest but literally everyone dodges it. LOL

I've been listening to academics and reading the opinions of activists and my opinion on "my family came to America from Ireland/Germany/Scotland so I'm going to get into any kind of magic with those places in it" has changed a lot.

I was raised without family. I never met either sets of my grandparents and while I know about them through my mom and the essays and writings her parents left behind, I have zero ties to my German/Scottish ties because I never knew them and was never raised in an environment where those cultures are vitally impactful. Same for my Irish history even though I could apparently become an dual Irish citizen idk if that gives me the right to claim any practices as mine more than someone who's parents are from any other country but they were born and raised there.

Idk idk

It's all been honestly very confusing. Maybe the reason people cling to Wicca is because it is a whole system that seems "above" culture (probably because it stole from and appropriated so many.......)

[ilovelotsofthings]

I will be posting about my TBP headcanons starting with Griffin

I was going to do one big post with all of the ghosts plus Finney but I just got Griffin done

So I will post them separately and in one big post when all is done

Also if I ever have anymore I will just reblog add them later

===

Griffin

++++

His parents (Perdita "Perry" & Cessair Stagg) had them in their early 20's

Perry's grandparents game from Ireland & Cessair's parents came from Ireland 

Neither wanted kids nor were planning to marry 

Yet Perry got pregnant so they married quickly so neither could be accused of having sex before marriage 

Their parents would disown them and they didn't want that.

They are religious in the sense they believe God exists but they don't really practice unless around their parents.

They do the praying for dinner though. 

Anyways Griffin is born to a couple who don't love each other or him

Perry cares but caring isn't enough

She is apathetic which sort of rubbed off on Griffin. 

Well I don't believe apathetic is correct but is pretty close

Perdita wanted to love Griffin but she couldn't. She tried. 

Griffin is also kinda religious.

Oh btw I think he is the youngest at 10 or 11

Perry was a SAHM and was miserable until he went to school. 

She homeschooled him for kindergarten to 2nd grade.

She spent so many hours with her son.

So when he went missing she noticed. Well she noticed when he wasn't home for dinner

Perry was worried about where Griffin was but she quickly gave up about him being alive

Which (I should do general headcanons) since I think The Grabber didn't keep them for longer than a week makes perfect sense.

Also Griffin -who I believe was the first- was killed after only 3 days.

Cessair's life for Griffin's entire life was him working long hours and cheating on Perry.

So basically only the mother raising him.

After the Grabber is killed and they find out Griffin has been dead for awhile they Divorce

They say it is because of grief. Truly both know it is because they were miserable and they got a very messed up Out.

Perry never had any more kids. As much as she felt miserable with Griffin as I said she felt something for him

Cessair could care less. He married one of his Affairs and had 2 daughters years down the line.

Back to Griffin 

He is a bookworm and could read books way above his grade level.

He loved gardening. Something he shared with his mom.

He didn't speak until he was around 4. 

He never had a single friend. Not even as a baby

He loved to ride his bike. He told his mom every time he was leaving.

The bike was a gift from her.

He had toys that would be considered feminine but he didn't care

He did have "masculine" toys also.

Griffin wanted to learn to play the piano. He never got to.

Griffin was just socially a mess.

If he could he would play kinda cruel jokes. 

Oh he knows his grandparents but they are also pretty distant from him.

Griffin is the person to laugh at their own misery 

He really was just biking and got kidnapped 

He was quiet the first day. 

Next day was his first (and only) attempt where he saw his bike lock on the door before… The Naughty Boy game.

He was also fed that day.

The last day he awoke in pain and just laughed. This 10/11 year old boy just was in so much pain.

One of his arms was broken and an ankle sprained. Bleeding everywhere.

He used his bottle cap and craved the combo in the wall per canon.

He was going to attempt the stairs again when The Grabber came down to kill him. No fun in a broken "toy"

Griffin woke up as a ghost with little to no ability to talk. He cannot talk without the phone.

He never really hung around the others. 

He did try to use the phone to call Billy but he didn't hear so Griffin just watched Billy.

Griffin when Billy died tried to bring some comfort 

Billy didn't want any and was reasonably pissed but chilled out after a while.

If Griffin lived he would've been an author.

Short of it is that Griffin was as he said invisible 

[dorkus-mcdingus]

My first MC, Evangeline Okino

I am certainly a good creator. I haven’t even given you guys Eva’s background like I did with Mari lol

Basic Info About Evangeline

Full name: Evangeline Ayame Okino

Nicknames: Eva, Angel, Evie

Age: 21

Sign: Sagittarius

Personality: Caring, sweet, bubbly, a little loud and outgoing, animated, however she can be overly apologetic, hotheaded, and has a difficult time letting go of grudges. She also has a tendency to worry about the boys a lot and holds her independence quite highly.

A Bit About Eva

Backstory:

Evangeline was born to Shona Michaelis, a painter who immigrated to America from Ireland, and Ryuuto Okino, a second generation Japanese-American who was part of an underground jazz band in Seattle. The two of them met when Shona was helping with painting a new mural for the jazz club that Ryuuto worked at. Although initially Shona found him to be rather loud and annoying, the two later on fell in love. Years later, the two ended up getting married and later on began a family. Though sadly, Shona never made it as she passed away shortly after giving birth to their daughter. On Shona's dying breath she told the doctor,

"Her name's Evangeline."

Although Ryuuto couldn't be more happy holding his daughter in his arms, he once said that

"Eva's birthday is the happiest and saddest day of my life."

Even though his wife passed away, Ryuuto tried his best to help raise his daughter the best he could. The two were especially close, sharing a love for music (jazz especially). So much so that Evangeline took up piano lessons from her dad when she was seven years old along with singing lessons.

At the age of twelve, the two ended up moving out of Seattle to Niigata, Japan where Evangeline's grandparents lived.

At first, middle school was quite rough as she had a difficult time reading kanji but in that time, she met her best friend, Tetsuya who was part of the school's jazz band. He was more than happy to help Evangeline with her schoolwork and the two bonded over their love for old movies and music, especially jazz.

However, tragedy struck when Evangeline was 15. On a rainy April night, Ryuuto was trying to rush over to her school to make it to his daughter's concert and because of how wet the road was, it caused him to hydroplane and crash killing him instantly. After hearing the news after her performance, Evangeline broke down crying and she couldn't even touch a piano again for a while due to the sound reminding her too much of her father.

Her life will soon change when she suddenly found herself in the Devildom. From there she met Lucifer and his brothers as well as some other odd characters as well.

Trivia

· Prior to dating Lucifer she dated two other guys. The first was Tetsuya Ohashi, one of her best friends (the broke up before graduating though), and Darryl Bennett. A well-off university student from the west end of London. She'd rather not talk about him though...

· Her favorite color is peachy pink

· She constantly wears a gold charm bracelet around her left wrist which has a locket that contains pictures of her mom and dad

· One of her goals in the Devildom is to get Cerberus to like her

· Alongside her best friend, Tetsuya, she works at a jazz club in her hometown where she's the lead female vocalist and as the pianist

· Out of all the brothers, she's closest with Lucifer (💋), Mammon, Asmo, and Satan

· She's absolutely terrified of thunder and lightening and after her dad's accident, it only got worse

· She's really into theater and music. Like she could seriously go on Levi level rants about how much she loves or hates a certain production.

(I also did not draw the chibi. The link to the artist I commissioned is at the top of my bio)

[ragnarockz]

Happy Canada Day and of course, Happy Canada day to all my ancestors/family in Newfoundland!

[theiagowalsh]

[ IC TASK ]

Full name? Iago Quinn Walsh.

Nicknames? Quinny. But only mamá calls me that. None.

Date of birth? Age? Zodiac sign? April 3rd. 23. Aries.

Height? Build? 172cm. In shape?

Hair color? Hair style? Dark hair, messy and curly-ish.

Eye color? Eye Shape? Glasses or contact lenses? Dark eyes. Reading glasses when available.

Which facial feature is most prominent? Which bodily feature is most prominent? Smile and arms.

Other distinguishing features? I mean, everything.

Skin? Hands? What are your feet like? Normal, I guess? I don’t care about them that much but they seem fine to me.

Make up? Totally into it.

Scars? Birthmarks? Tattoos? I’ve got a few moles here and there. A few thin scars too. No tattoos, unfortunately.

Type of clothes? How do you wear your clothes? Very huge fan of lougewear. And you know, your casual hoodie, jeans jacket, black pants kinda combo.

Race/Ethnicity? Does that affect you or how you were raised? How? European. Not really. But speaking Spanish in California sure confused me a little.

Mannerisms? I mean….. Politeness is given when politeness is deserved.

Where were you born? Where were your parents born? Where were your grandparents’ born? How many times have you moved in your life? Born and raised in Ojai, California. My mom is from Ojai, my father is from LA. My grandparents were born half in Spain and half in Ireland.

What are your family’s values? Do you agree? How does this affect you? Family always affects us, am I right?  

Are you in good health? Do you have any medical problems? All cool.

Do you have any disabilities? Physical disabilities? Nope.

What past act are you most ashamed of? What past act are you most proud of? Nothing to be ashamed of here. Lots to be proud of here.

What sort of sex do you have? Not a big fan of all the lovey-dovey kissy kissy stuff so yeah, rough and kinky please and thank you.

Did you attend any kind of trade school before you got here? Nah.

Have you had any jobs? What are your career goals? Nope. I’d like to make this whole photography hobby and design and whatever into something one day.  

What places have you visited on vacation? A few Californian beaches. But that’s it.

Who is your favorite actor? Who is an actor you can’t stand? Robert Downey Jr. And Johnny Depp.

What is your favorite movie? Which movies do you absolutely hate? Dude. So many. And also so many. I’m a huge fan of suspense and horror movies. I don’t watch drama too much.

What is your favorite color? What is your favorite book? What is your favorite food? Burgandy. A Monster Calls, by Patrick Ness. Fideuà and leche frita.

How often do you exercise? What are your exercise goals? A few push ups here and there, a run here and there. Just staying in shape.  

Do you enjoy hot weather, or do you prefer colder temperatures? Hot weather.

What do you think is the meaning of life? Having fun while we’re at it?

If you could describe yourself in one sentence, what would you say? Contra toda autoridad… excepto mi mamá.

[forsythiias]

hey ! i’m rachel. i’m 20 - almost 21 ! - she / her pronouns, gmt timezone ( i live in ireland and spend like a week in england every month at this rate . u guys will get used to it ). a fun fact abt me is that i spoke to hugh jackman & gave him a wolverine pin rly recently . that’s all i got . anyway. i’m playing jellybean jones, the baby of the fp jones fam ! she’s my absolute KID and i would LOVE to plot , so please feel free to shoot me a message or smash that like button and i’ll come at you in the not so distant future. 

⌜   genderfluid, she / they / he   |   out of time by the rolling stones, the local record store, the pop culture fiend   ⌟   ⏤   hey, isn’t that FORSYTHIA PARTHENIA JONES? the NINETEEN year old SOUTH SIDER has lived in town for their WHOLE LIFE, and has always denied their resemblance to DIANA SILVERS. they’ve been a STUDENT & WAITRESS for a while now, and i guess it makes sense - they’ve always seemed so TENACIOUS & INDIVIDUALISTIC, though i have heard that they can be pretty GARRULOUS & ACERBIC. did you hear about how they SOLD JACKED CARS IN TOLEDO TO PUT THEMSELVES THROUGH COLLEGE? i always knew that there was something up with them. you can check out her pinterest board HERE and her stat page HERE.

you can CHANGE the world, girl,                                     you really, truly can.

part one of three : bullet point history. trigger warnings for talk of infant health issues.

august fifth, 2000. it was a sticky autumn night when FORSYTHIA PARTHENIA JONES entered the world with a pitiful cry. the only daughter of two south siders, gladys and fp, and the younger sister of a one jughead jones, she wasn’t born to MUCH ; which made all that she did have matter all the more. a mother and a father who loved her? check. an older brother she would someday idolize and love like no other in the world? double check. a small ventricular septal defect, discovered only after her birth? triple check.

forsythia was, it seemed, destined to be a sickly child. her first few months were dotted with trips to the emergency room and visits to a local doctor, something always seeming to be wrong. infant colic was ten times worse. she caught a chill when she was two weeks old and needed to spend a WEEK in the icu because of the resulting chest infection. the doctors who treated her at birth had been confident over time that the hole in her heart - jellybean shaped, on the very first ultrasound - would close by itself, as many do. hers, however, didn’t. as she got older, the effects became more pronounced. she kept catching chest infections. she couldn’t seem to put on weight. breathing was, at times, a struggle. and she was SLEEPIER than any baby they had ever known before. the original plan had been to wait and see and hope that her tiny heart healed on it’s own. at ten months old, it became apparent that this would never happen ; and the surgery was scheduled. 

your baby is supposed to be PERFECT. she isn’t supposed to take ill every few days and ultimately be wheeled into a room for open heart surgery. it was likely a very harrowing experience, and those first few months of her life were understandably marred - but if there had ever been any doubts before, it became clearer than day when she came out of surgery that the youngest jones was a FIGHTER, through and through. they’d been prepared for a month long wait to bring her home again - it ended up being a fortnight. she didn’t cry, after. she didn’t FUSS. it was as if she had known that the first little while had been tough, and was trying her hardest to make all of their lives that little bit easier. lord knew that the jones’ needed it, especially when the stress of all that was going on with her had combined with their bills. 

now affectionately named jellybean for the defect she had survived, she grew into a remarkably NORMAL child. there were differences, of course, between her and the kids that she grew up surrounded by - she required regular checkups, she needed to dress extra warmly in winter, and she always got that little bit more wiped out than everybody else - but anyone told the story behind the scar in the middle of her chest gaped in shock. the girl who swung from the lower boughs of the trees at the edge of sunnyside trailer park and sprinted after her friends at full speed had once had a hole in her heart? impossible. that sort of health issue was reserved for those with a lot less life in them than the high spirited girl that jellybean became known as being, and never once did she allow it to define her. she was a SPITFIRE, pure and simple, and she’s proud to say that never once did she let herself sit out of an experience just because she was worried about what would happen if she partook.

life was not all sunshine and adventure, though. not every child notices the cracks in their home life appearing. jellybean didn’t. not until the rug was pulled right from under her feet. to her wide eyed and rose colored self, everything seemed to happen overnight. one day, they were happy. the next, her dad was an alcoholic and she and her mum were in transit to toledo, where they would move in with stony faced grandparents who treated her with corporate coldness. she didn’t understand the why of it all - couldn’t have even hoped to, when she was still so young. the reality of her father losing his job and their lives going to shit thanks to it didn’t sink in. all she knew was that she had lost the father she idealized and the big brother that she had always wanted to BE. 

she spoke to them both on the phone, of course. she was even lucky to see jughead a couple times, though their grandparents never wanted to hear about it afterwards, no matter how excited she was. it must have been jarring for him the first time he turned up to find that the pigtailed little girl who loved kids pop that he remembered had sheared her hair and was now listening strictly to pink floyd and other classics. but none of it was the same. not really. it wasn’t having her family together. to say that her drastic transformation might have stemmed from a place of resentment towards whatever forces were at play in ruining her family - that starting to go by JB, so similar to the FP that her nana and granddad refused to allow be mentioned around them might’ve been an act of defiance - wouldn’t have been incorrect. she wanted things to go back to normal. the fact that they didn’t killed her.

and they never really did. she and her mom returned to riverdale, a new opportunity spotted, but things never went back to how they had been before. she learned not to talk about it, though - and now she’s older, wiser, and she knows how to hide her feelings behind an easy bluff. there’s nothing to do but make the most of what she does have, right? a new brother. a new life. a new self. she has to stop dwelling on what she used to have, she supposes ; though sometimes, it hurts to think about what she’s lost. 

part two of three : headcanons.

jellybean is gonna be a lawyer someday, but she NEVER really wanted to be one. her dream from ages 3 to 11, she wanted to be a princess. she overheard some of the older serpents sarcastically referring to the jones family as royalty, and she really chose to run with it - refusing to take off a makeshift crown for the first month and getting called princess jellybean by her father for the next few years. after that phase had passed, though, she found her real passion - and for most of living memory, she’s wanted to own a record store. nothing too extravagant, really, just a first floor, one room sorta deal - she’d plaster the walls with posters of the greats and keep the merchandise in crates resting on rickety tables, and every friday night she’d hold a jams night where people could come and lounge around the floor on beanie bags, listening to some of their favorites. she had it all planned, and it’s still something of a dream - but if there’s one thing that jones’ family knows how to do, it’s sacrifice their dreams for harsh reality. with penny peabody DISGRACED, the serpents and southsiders in general need someone who knows them to represent them, when things go to trial, and feeling a sense of duty to the people she was raised around, jb bit the bullet and stepped up. she’s got a love for arguing and a knack for winning, so much so that god HELP whoever goes against her in a courtroom, someday.

she has yet to officially join the serpents ( her parents wouldn’t approve of it, for one, not now, and there’s a whole host of OTHER reasons ) - but jb went right ahead and got a tattoo on her right hand anyway, cause as a jones, she’s still serpent adjacent. the only difference between the picture linked and the one she has is that hers is done in white ink - her way of keeping things lowkey while still honoring her heritage.

miss her with a motorbike. they’re COOL and all, but jb values her life a little bit too much to trust a two wheeled death trip waiting to happen. she’s more into classic cars, anyway, and has pretty recently invested in the frame of a 1979 pontiac gto from the scrapyard that she plans on fixing up to perfection.

her style is southside meets cute. of course she loves her leather and fishnet combos - but jb is ALSO a huge fan of dungarees and sloganed t-shirts in a whole assortment of colors. anything ‘edgy’ she wears ( big boots, mesh tops, the list .. could go on ) gets coupled with something a little less so ( pink scrunchies, colorful makeup, a disney bag … again, the list could go on ), and that makes her her.

and finally, for now, cause i’m not sure i’ve done a good job of conveying it - jellybean is a good kid. she REALLY, truly is. she’s got some bite to her ( enough of a short fuse that it’s advisable not to test her limit ) & wouldn’t be her fathers daughter if she DIDN’T, but she’s also genuinely sweet. being a serpent doesn’t equal being a bitch, and so long as people out there treat her with respect, she’ll do the SAME. jb doesn’t turn unless she’s given reason to … and if they do, she won’t hold back.

part three of three : wanted connections.

fp & gladys jones ! 

kids from the south ( or north ) side that are in or around the same age, who jellybean would have grown up with / went to school with !! they might have reconnected after she returned to riverdale and now know her as who she’s become, but they also might be people who she lost contact with for a LONG TIME and who never got to see her post transformation - any and all variance on this wc would be fun!

anyone attending carson college who she might, maybe, rub shoulders with !!  i’d love the most mundane of connections - maybe they sit with each other during lunch, or they help each other study, or one time, jb dropped a book on their head in the library and they’ve been friends / enemies since! gimme anything !

regulars at pops / the speakeasy. 

so .. she’s pretty self sufficient, and she’s paying her way in terms of college by working shifts at pops and picking up extras in the speakeasy. she’d know a lot of people from that, i’d wager, and i’m sure she has her favorites!

more people southside serpent adjacent who she can play off of !! one of jb’s goals in life is to become an OFFICIAL member of the gang, which she hasn’t yet - but she is something of a southside princess, and that means she’d know most of them in some way!

p much anything else !

[greenandhazy]

so I posted a photo of my great-grandma earlier today, and the reason I had it is because I’m doing a genealogy-related present for my dad for Christmas. I combed through a lot of documents + talked with my grandparents for a while, and I’m... having a lot of feelings about my great-grandma in particular. under a cut for feels-more-private-on-the-internet reasons and vague discussion of child abuse

my great-grandmother’s name was Mary. not shocking for an Irish girl. she was born in Ireland--we actually have a paper family tree with her parents + siblings’ names, and I’m trying to find that, but as far as I can remember she was one of about ten. her mother’s first husband died and she married his brother, and Mary was the eldest of the second “set” of children. when she was nine, her mother died, the father couldn’t keep up with all the kids, and some were sent to live with relatives; she went to live with an aunt in the United States.

my grandmother remembers and hates this aunt. she owned an apartment building, and she basically employed by great-grandmother as a maid from the minute she arrived. (my grandmother thought that Mary never attended school in the US because the aunt never sent her and bribed town officials; I found a census that said she had a sixth grade education, so I’m not sure if that was an exaggeration or if Mary lied on the census.) even when my grandmother was a girl, 30+ years later, Mary would go and clean this aunt’s apartment once a week until the old woman died.

Mary got married for the first time when she was eighteen and had five children. she became a citizen at age 27, and a widow later that same year. I found records indicating that almost half a year after her husband’s death, she was still living in their (rented) house, alone, with no formal employment, raising five kids under the age of ten. within two years she was married again, and she had four more kids with her second husband, including my grandmother. two of her sons died fairly young--one in a motorcycle accident, I believe, and one because of a drug overdose.

and just... I knew that all of these things happened in her life, but looking at the timing, and looking at them all in black and white, I see things differently. like--I get the sense that her second husband, my great-grandfather, was... not an especially good guy. he’s the only great-grandparent whom no one really seems to have any fond stories of, for one reason. he just doesn’t really come up. and I did a pseudo-oral history with my grandmother a while ago and she sort of seemed to imply that he was. a creep in some way. like, people in the neighborhood avoided him. she was never really alone with him, her mom or sisters were always in the room. stuff like that. and based on the way she talked, I don’t think she believed he had ever actually harmed a child, or even felt sincerely that he would have, it was just a feeling. you know the kind of feeling I mean.

so now I’m thinking, maybe that second marriage was never a love match. maybe it was a “I’ve got five kids to feed, no job, and the money’s running out, and the guy a few blocks over says he’ll provide for me” kind of thing. what about the first marriage--was that about what a great guy her husband was, or about getting independence from a cruel guardian? I don’t know.

but in that photo, one of three photos we have of her, she looks so happy and composed and proud. she had a couple dozen grandchildren when she died, and I know all three of her daughters, at least, were very close and had careers and made very happy marriages. (my great-aunts were at all the family gatherings when I was growing up; I don’t remember meeting my grandma’s brothers, so I’m not as sure.) she died just a few years before I was born, but she looks a lot like my grandmother.

I guess it’s just one of those things where... I study women’s history. I know what women have gone through, are going through. but it’s so different when you think not just about “women” in the abstract, but my grandmothers and the ones who came before them. I wish I had known Mary.

[fireawayniall]

Some Explaining to Do

A huge thanks to my betas @niallandharrymakemestrong , @latelatenarry , and @niall-is-my-dream ! You ladies are amazing!!!

Growing up as the only child in your family had been wonderful. You had all of your parents’, grandparents’, aunts’, and uncles’ undivided attention. Sure, you could have grown up super spoiled, but your parents made sure that you were always kept humble.

However, your world turned upside down just a month after your 16th birthday. Since you were so excited to have gotten your drivers license, you wanted to drive everywhere! That's how you ended up driving your mom around to help her with errands.

While driving her to the grocery store one day, out of the blue she asked, “How would you feel about having a little brother or sister?”

You laughed, thinking she was joking and replied with “Nah, I'm good.”

She wasn't joking.

Your little sister was born 6 months later. You were filled with a mix of emotions, you had always wanted a sibling when you were younger, but the older you got the less likely that seemed and the more comfortable you got in your life as an only child.

Your high school experience was completely different from everyone else's. While all of your friends could have friends over, you had to worry about if they’d they be loud and wake the baby. (You learned quickly that was not fun for anyone involved.) On the plus side, your parents were so worried about the baby that some nights you could sneak in after curfew or stay with friends and not have to check in every little while.

Growing up in a super small town, everyone knew the truth about what had happened, your sister had been a late in life “oops”. Dating had never been a problem, high school boys were just not that interesting. At least not when you had known them all since you were in diapers.

You got to college and started dating. You started dated casually, but nothing serious. With your little sister only being ages 2-6 while you were in college, you never dated anyone long enough for them to meet her. You didn’t want her to get too attached when you knew the relationship wouldn’t last.

After graduating college you had several job offers, but the one that you were most excited about was with a small marketing company in LA. So you packed up a uhaul, said goodbye to your family and friends and headed to the west coast.

It took you a little while to get settled, but eventually, you did. You began to make friends through work, be that at the office or through clients. One of those friends was a client of yours, energetic Irishman named Mully. He was opening a restaurant and you were working on the marketing for it. You and Mully had become great friends due to your similar personalities and interest. You would oftentimes have movie nights, binge tv shows, or watch the latest sports matches at one of your places.

One night you were sitting around when Mully turned to you, “Ya know, I should really introduce ya to me best mate Nialler. Think you two would get along well. This is his house actually.” You had always wondered how Mully lived in such a nice house, but you weren't one to ask questions.

“Sure.” You responded.

“That's all you've got to say? Not, what does he do? Or why have I never met him? Or anything? Just sure!”

“Yea. I mean, I have lived out here for almost a year and you and I have been friends for almost as long. It’s about time I started dating. Plus, I trust you to set me up. He’s your best friend, and you aren’t the type to set people up if you think it’s going to be totally terrible.”

“True. I just think you two will hit it off. I’ll see when he is in town next and set something up.”

“Sounds good. Let me know time and place.” You then rested your head back on his shoulder and went back to your football game.

“I really just don’t understand American Football.” You heard Mully grumble.

A few weeks later you were sitting at a private table at Nobu waiting for Niall Horan to walk in. Mully had made good on his promise and set you up on a blind date with his best friend from Ireland. You really didn’t know all that much about him except that he used to be in the band One Direction, he was now a solo artist, and he divided his time between London and LA.

“Hi, you must be Mully’s friend?” You heard from behind you.

“And you must be Niall, also Mully’s friend.”

“That I am.”

“So this is a little awkward. I’m not used to being set up.” You glanced at the gorgeous man in front of you and then looked out the window hoping he didn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

“Neither am I to be honest.” He responded as he sat down at the table.

“Well tell me a little bit about yourself. That seems like a good of a place as any to start.”

Niall was usually really good at reading people, but for some reason he was having a hard time reading you. He wasn’t sure if you genuinely didn’t know who he was or if you were just one of the best liars in North America. He decided to give the Wikipedia version of his life to see if he could tell.

“Sure, I was born and raised in Mullingar with Mully. At least until I was 16. Then I moved to London with the band. We’ve done pretty well, put out 5 albums and then went on hiatus in 2015 and now I’m releasing my own music. I like old school Americana, Eagles, Fleetwood. Prefer tea to coffee. Love a good burger with a pint, American beer it shite by the way. Um… not really sure what else. Your turn.”

“Before I go, can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“What was yalls biggest hit? I want to know if I’ve ever heard it.”

Niall sat there and scratched his chin, he really was having a hard time believing that this girl had no idea who he was. “That’s tough, but probably the one that still gets played the most is What Makes You Beautiful.”

She sat there with a shocked look on her face. “You were in that band? My best friend in college loved ya’ll. You used to be blond right? I remember now! It just didn’t click! OK! Cool!”

Niall laughed at how excited you got. It wasn’t the “superfan” kind of excited that would have him running out of the restaurant, it was the “this is super neat” kind of excited. Kind of like he got when he met one of his idols. “It’s still your turn.”

“Oh right! I was born and raised in a small town in the south my whole life. Went to college the same school where my parents did. Got a job at a marketing firm out here, that’s how I met Mully. I love to travel, my family did a lot of that when I was growing up. I love to cook and bake, the thing I miss most about living in the south is the actual southern cooking. People out here say that they have it, but it is not right. I love music in general, I was raised in Garth Brooks, Journey, Rod Stewart, Billy Joel, and Elton John. This is tough! Let’s play 20 questions instead?”

Niall just laughed, “You’re on. Best concert you’ve ever been to?”

All had been going well for you and Niall you had been dating for 6 months now and you were finally taking him home to meet your parents and sister. You had told him that you had a little sister, but you had left out her age, you knew from experience with friends and just looks what people thought. As your trip got closer, you planned on telling him, but the timing was never right, so you just figured that you would deal with it when you got there.

Your dad picked the two of you up at the airport and then drove you both to your house. When you walked in the door you were greeted by a tornado of dark brown wild hair, eerily similar to your own.

“Sissy!”

“Hey, Boo! How are you doing?”

“Good! I’m so happy you are here! We are going to have so much fun! Mommy said you are taking me to the ice cream store tomorrow!” Your sister all but yelled. Ice cream was a special treat that she only got on special occasions and it was something that the two of you always made sure to do whenever you were home. She then noticed the man standing beside you and ran to hide behind your leg.

“Boo, this is my boyfriend Niall. Can you say hello?” You said crouching down to the seven-year-olds level.

“Hi.” She said in a shy voice.

“Hello. You must be Becca. I have heard a lot about you.” Niall said with a strange look on his face as he too crouched down to her level and held out a hand for the little girl to shake.

“Really?” The little girl was excited about your new boyfriend now.

Before anyone could respond, your parents called you further into the house to greet you, and meet Niall and then to have dinner.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Niall said with hurt in his voice later that night while the two of you were sitting on the porch swing. You had finished dinner, and hung out with your family, now your parents were getting your sister ready for bed.

You had seen the look on his face throughout the evening and knew that this was coming, but you still decided to play dumb.

“What do you mean? Tell you what?”

“That you had a kid?”

You almost choke on the tea you had been drinking. You knew he wanted to ask, but you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it.

“I’m sorry, but what!?”

“I was doing the math in me head. Becca. She is seven. You are 23. You had her when you were 16 didn’t ya? Now your parents are just raising her as your little sister so that you can have a normal life. I mean, I gotta admire them, not sure I would be able to do that. What about her da? Does he know about her? Did he not want her?”

You were still trying to comprehend exactly what was going on. This had thrown you for a total loop. He was coming up with so many questions that you were not expecting from your normally level-headed boyfriend. You just looked at Niall as he finished his rant. “You finished? Going to let me explain?”

He just sighed and nodded his head.

“Becca is not my daughter. I mean, I kinda get where you came up with that idea. I have been mistaken for her mom most of my life. But my mom surprised me a month after my sixteenth birthday with the news that I was going to be a big sister. I don’t really know what happened, I try not to think about it. There is actually photographic evidence that my mother carried her and not me. I can go get it if you want. And if that is not enough, I think there is a birth video that can be pulled out from somewhere.”

Niall just laughed and shook his head. “I think I’m good. I’m sorry I thought you would lie to me.”

“It’s not a big deal, can’t really blame you, who knows what I would have done if that had happened. It’s like my life changed overnight though, suddenly here I was, in high school with a baby sister and then college with a toddler sister. Everyone who didn’t actually see my mom thought she was mine and it did affect my dating life. I never actually dated in high school because I knew most of the guys and well, ew. Then, I never brought guys that I was dating in college home because I didn’t want her to get to attached to them, because yea, even though there is a sixteen year age difference between us she is still my little sister and I never wanted her to get her heart broken when things didn’t work out later.”

You and Niall just look at each other when it hits each of you what you said.

“But you brought me home.” He whispered.

“That’s because things are different with you. I can really see this going somewhere.” You answered.

“Really? Even with my crazy life and all of the shit that you have to put up with? And even when I jump to ridiculous conclusions about you having a daughter and not telling me?”

“Really. I don’t mind being apart for weeks at the time as long as while you are gone you are the one on the other end of the facetime call and at the end of it I’m the one you are coming home to.”

“I promise you are. You always will be. I guess I owe you an apology for jumping to conclusions.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. You won’t be the first and I’m sure you won't be the last to think Becca is mine. Let’s just hope that when we go shopping tomorrow no pictures are taken.”

“It will be fine if they are. I’ll post something on twitter if I need to. I’m excited to spend the day with just you and her though, it seems like it will be good practice for the future.” Niall waggled his eyebrows and you then almost fell off the bed from laughing at the look of shock on your face.

Six months later Niall had surprised you with a trip to your family’s beach house. He had learned while you were dating that it was one of your favorite places to be and with it being in a lesser known town, Niall could go out and about without being recognized. While walking on the beach one night Niall had proposed to you. He had teared up and you had bawled your eyes out when you had finally said yes. When you both got back to the house, Niall surprised you with your families and some of your friends and a small party out by the pool.

When you both returned to LA, Mully insisted that he plan another bigger party for all of your friends in LA before you both made an official announcement, so that was where you had been tonight.

You were up in your shared bedroom, having just changed into sweats and one of Niall's t-shirts when your phone dinged with a notification. Niall had just made the official announcement on his instagram of your engagement and tagged you in the pictures.

@NiallOfficial: So excited to FINALLY announce that I am off the market ! What a whirlwind couple of days , but no one else I had rather spend it with ! Here are some pics from @christantierney of the special moment , celebrating with family and friends after , and an engagement party thrown by friends in LA . I cannot wait to spend forever with her by my side , it’s gonna be a blast ! Also, the last is a very special picture made of my favorite little 8-year old of the moment she realized I popped the question to her big sister , she is the little sister that I never knew that I wanted or needed in my life and I cannot wait to watch her grow up .

You scanned through the pictures that Niall had posted. Sure, you knew that Christian was at the parties taking photos, but you had no idea that he had snapped them of the moment Niall had proposed or that he had captured Becca’s face so perfectly. The excitement on her face almost put yours to shame. She and Niall had grown so close in the 6 months that she had known him. Niall had insisted that she have a room at your house for when she came to visit, he had even allowed her to decorate it. He would take her on “brother-sister dates” and you still had no idea where they went, although you suspected it had something to do with Disneyland.

He was amazing with her, when you saw Niall with Becca, you would get a glimpse of what your future could potentially look like. Even though he was just being a “big brother” to your sister you knew that Niall was going to be a great dad one day and you couldn’t wait to give him the family that you both wanted. You were so glad that he had understood about Becca. Luckily the media fallout hadn’t been terrible, but you knew that even if it had been, Niall would have been there through it all.  

[my-random-ocs]

Chapter 6: Heart Monitor

Pairing: Stiles x OC (eventually)

Warnings: Language, mentions of stabbing, death, and the alpha being a dick

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As soon as I walk into English class, I immediately sense the awkwardness between Stiles and Scott. I look between them as I take my seat, trying to will a conversation into existence.

Scott leans forward. “Still not talking to me?” Scott asks Stiles.

Silence from Stiles.

“Can you at least tell me if your dad’s okay? I mean, it’s just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big?”

“He still got hit by a fucking car, Scott,” I blurt. He throws me a look. “Sorry.”

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” Scott asks. Stiles still doesn’t say anything. “Okay. What if I told you that I’m trying to figure this whole thing out, and… that I went to Derek for help?”

I whip my head around and shoot Scott an incredulous look. Did he just say he went to Derek Hale for help? Like that’s going to go well.

Stiles shakes his head and releases an exasperated sigh. “If I was talking to you, I’d say that you’re an idiot for trusting him,” he says. “But, obviously I’m not talking to you.”

The bell rings as Stiles clicks his tongue. Scott leans back in his seat in defeat. I look back over at Stiles, who cannot sit still, and I smirk, knowing he is dying to ask. Finally, he sighs and turns around in his seat. “What did he say?” He asks.

____________

“He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asks as we walk out of the classroom.

“Yeah,” Scott confirms.

“Alright, well, correct me if I’m wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually us.” Stiles gestures between him and I.

“Sounds about right,” I say.

“I know,” Scott says. “That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it.”

“Well, how is he going to teach you how to do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he does either.”

I nod. “Wow, Derek definitely did not go to teacher’s college, did he?”

“Okay, when are you seeing him again?” Stiles asks as he throws his head back.

“He just told me not to talk about it,” Scott says. “Just act normal and get through the day.”

Stiles taps him on the shoulder, and we stop walking. “When?”

“He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work.”

“After work.” Stiles exchanges a look with me. “That gives us until the end of the school day, then.”

“To do what?” Scott asks in confusion.

I smile and shrug. “To teach you ourselves, of course,” I answer, walking away, leaving the boys to follow.

____________

I am sitting with Lydia and Allison during lunch as Allison reads aloud from a book. “The what of who?” Lydia asks, a mixture of confusion and boredom evident in her tone.

“The Beast of Gévaudan,” Allison answers. “Listen- ‘A quadruped beast wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and south Dordogne areas of France during the year 1764 to 1767. Le Bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the king Louie the 15th sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.’”

“Boring,” Lydia interrupts, pointing her fork at Allison. I take a bite of my apple, listening intently as Allison continues.

“‘Even the church declared the monster a messenger of Satan.’“

I whistle lowly. “Damn,” I say, impressed.

“Hm,” Lydia hums. “Still boring.”

Allison and I exchange a playful eyeroll. “’Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid’,” Allison continues.

Lydia pops a blueberry into her mouth. “Slipping into a coma bored.”

“‘While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man-eating monster.’”

“This is really interesting stuff,” I say before Lydia can speak. “You said this had something to do with your family?”

Allison nods and looks toward the book again. “This- ‘It is believed that La Bête was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature.’” Allison looks up from her book, smiling at Lydia and I. “His name was Argent.”

“Your ancestors killed a big wolf,” Lydia says. “So what?”

“Not just a big wolf. Take a look at this picture.” Allison holds the book up for Lydia and I to see. “What does it look like to you guys?” My heart stops as I look at it. It was a large black creature with glowing red eyes. Just like the one at the video store. Holy shit. Allison’s ancestors didn’t just kill a wolf- they killed a werewolf.

Allison’s voice snaps me out of my state of silence. “Lydia? Vivian?”

“It looks… like a big… wolf,” Lydia says. She smiles, seemingly back to her old self. “See you in history.” She gathers her things and walks quickly out of the cafeteria.

As she leaves, Allison looks back at me. I guess I didn’t make as much of a convincing expression as Lydia because she frowns. “Are you okay, Viv?”

I nod. “Fine,” I say. God, it seems like I’m saying that a lot lately. “Just tired, I guess.” I shake my head, trying to change the subject. “This stuff is really interesting. I wish I could learn this much about my family.”

“You don’t know much?” She questions.

I shake my head. “I know my dad’s family immigrated from Ireland during World War Two, had my dad, and died when I was a baby. They didn’t talk about their lives in Ireland much, so Dad didn't know a lot either.”

“What about your mom’s side?”

“Mom wasn’t very close to her family,” I shrug. “Something happened between her and her mom before I was born, but she wouldn’t tell me what. I don’t know much more than my grandparents’ names.”

Allison immediately looks guilty. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I assure her. Suddenly, a movement off to the side catches my eye, and I see Stiles waving me over. “I have to go. I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye,” she says. By the time I gather my things together, she is already engrossed in her book again.

I laugh as I walk over to Scott and Stiles. Scott is attempting to hide behind a bright orange textbook, but it isn’t working. “Yeah, so the book is making it a lot more obvious,” I smirk as I sit next to Stiles. “Besides, she’s reading anyway.”

Scott peeks over the textbook. “So did you guys come up with a plan yet?” He asks.

“I think so,” I say, as Stiles takes a bite of his apple.

“Does that mean you don’t hate me now?” Scott looks skeptically at Stiles.

“No,” Stiles answers. “But your crap has infiltrated my life, so now I have to do something about it.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “What he means is, we are glad to help you.”

“Plus, we’re definitely better Yodas than Derek,” Stiles adds.

“Okay, yeah, you guys teach me,” Scott says.

“Yeah, we’ll be your Yoda,” I smile.

“Yeah, you be my Yoda.”

“Your Yoda I will be,” Stiles says, imitating Yoda’s voice. I laugh. When Scott doesn’t, Stiles continues, chuckling. “I said it backwards.”

“Yeah- I know,” Scott says, slightly annoyed.

Raising my eyebrows in shock, I ask, “Have you not seen Star Wars?” Scott shakes his head, and Stiles makes an offended noise as we both gather our stuff.

“All right, you know what?” He says to Scott. “I definitely still hate you.” He gets louder as he takes the textbook Scott was hiding behind. “Uh-huh. Oh, yeah. Come on, Viv.” I toss my backpack over my shoulder and Stiles and I walk out of the cafeteria.

“Hey, so where are we going?” Stiles asks as we walk down the hallway.

I smirk at him as I say, “Coach’s office.”

____________

During study hall, Scott follows Stiles and I onto the lacrosse field. “Okay,” Stiles says, sitting on the bench, duffel bag and lacrosse stick next to him. He hands Scott a device. “Now… put this on.”

Scott looks at it in confusion. “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He asks.

“Yes, yes it is,” I say. “We borrowed it.”

“Stole it,” Scott translates.

“Temporarily misappropriated,” I counter.

Stiles tosses me a smirk before getting us back on track. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you’re gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

Scott gestures to something in Stiles’s hand. “Isn’t that Coach’s phone?”

“That, we stole,” Stiles admits.

“Why?”

“Alright, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you’re playing lacrosse, when you’re with Allison, whenever you get angry.”

“Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning how to control your heart rate,” I continue. I snap my fingers, a thought occurring to me. “Like the Incredible Hulk!”

“Yeah,” Scott smiles.

I share an annoyed look with Stiles. “That reference he gets?” I ask.

Stiles shakes his head. “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.”

“No, I’m like the Incredible Hulk,” Scott says, his smile growing.

“Would you shut up and put the strap on?” Stiles snaps.

After Scott does, we walk onto the middle of the field, and Stiles duct tapes Scott’s hands behind his back. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period,” Scott complains.

“Alright, you ready?” Stiles asks, walking away.

“No,” Scott deadpans, and I smirk.

“Remember, don’t get angry.”

Stiles grabs his lacrosse stick, scooping the ball into the net. “I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” Scott says.

I shrug. “Eh, when have we ever had good ideas?”

Suddenly, Stiles throws the ball at Scott, which hits him in the chest and has him doubled over, groaning. I wince. The next one hits him right in the face. “Okay, that one… kind of hurt,” he groans.

“Quiet,” Stiles says, getting the next ball ready. “Remember, you’re supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, about staying calm.”

As Scott dodges a ball, he mutters, “Stay calm. Staying calm. Staying totally calm.” He jumps up and down. “There’s no balls flying at my face-” He is cut off by a ball slamming into his shoulder, and I hold back a smile. This isn’t funny. Nope, not at all.

As another ball hits him, Scott yells, “Ah! Son of a bitch!”

“You know what, I think my aim is actually improving,” Stiles quips. I fail to hold back a loud snort.

“Wonder why,” Scott says, readying himself for another ball.

As the device beeps, I say, “Don’t get angry. You can do it.”

“I’m not getting angry,” he glares, and groans as a ball hits him in the chest. “Stop, just wait. Just hold on.” Stiles ignores him and another ball hits him. He leans over and starts breathing more heavily. I realize what is happening and step closer to Stiles. The beeping on Coach’s phone increases as Scott’s heart rate increases. Scott drops to his knees, groaning. Fuck.

Stiles immediately puts down his lacrosse stick and picks up the phone. “Scott?” He asks, stepping closer. I grab his wrist, stopping his steps as Scott collapses on the ground, breaking the duct tape like it’s no stronger than toilet paper.

“Scott, are you okay?” I ask tentatively. Suddenly, the beeping slows down, and Scott’s heart rate returns to normal. Stiles and I cautiously move to his side.

“Scott, you started to change,” Stiles says.

“From anger,” Scott says. “But it was more than that. It was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So, it is anger, then,” I confirm. “Derek’s right.”

“I can’t be around Allison,” he continues.

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles asks.

Scott shakes his head. “No, because she makes me weak.”

____________

Scott, Stiles, and I walk into economics, and I can tell Coach is already impatient. “Let’s go. Sit, sit, sit, sit. We got a lot to cover today. Let’s go. Quicker.”

As I sit down and take out my notebook, Scott whispers frantically to Stiles. “Hey, Stiles, sit behind me, dude.” Stiles grabs his stuff and heads for the seat Scott pointed out, but before he could sit, Allison grabs it. Stiles sends Scott an apologetic look before getting settled in the seat between Scott and I.

“Hey,” Allison says. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Uh, yeah,” Scott stammers. “I’ve been super busy.”

“When are you going to get your phone fixed? I feel like I’m totally disconnected from you.”

“Uh, soon. Real soon.” He goes to turn to the front of the room, but Allison continues.

“I changed lab partners, by the way,” she smiles.

“Oh. To who?”

“To you, dummy,” she chuckles.

“Me?” Scott asks, trying and failing to mask his shock. “I mean, are you sure?”

“Yeah. This way I have an excuse to bring you home and study.”

“Oh,” Scott manages. He doesn’t look like he knows what to say.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Allison asks hesitantly.

“I just- I don’t want to bring your grade down,” Scott says quickly.

Allison shakes her head. “Well, I mean, maybe I can bring your grade up.” I glance at Stiles just in time to see him roll his eyes at the two. “Come to my place tonight. Eight thirty?” Allison continues.

“Tonight?” I can see the freak out clear on his face.

“Eight thirty.”

Before Scott can respond, Coach slams a textbook on his desk, gaining everyone’s attention. “Let’s settle down. Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading.” I raise my hand to volunteer. “Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading. How about, uh… McCall.”

I put my hand down as Scott looks up, confused. “What?” Scott asks.

“The reading,” Coach says.

“Last night’s reading?” Scott asks hesitantly.

“How about, uh, the reading of the Gettysburg Address,” Coach jokes, and everyone laughs.

“What?”

“That’s sarcasm. You familiar with the term ‘sarcasm’, McCall?”

With a look thrown to Stiles and I, both of us smiling proudly by the way, he answers, “Very.” I barely manage to hold back a snort.

“Did you do the reading or not?” Coach asks, getting annoyed.

“Uh- I think I forgot.”

“Nice work, McCall. It’s not like you’re not averaging a ‘D’ in this class.” People chuckle with Coach’s words. Assholes. He leans down close to Scott. “Come on, buddy. You know I can’t keep you on the team if you have a ‘D’. How about you summarize, uh, the previous night’s reading?” I hear beeping and I look over at Stiles, who is looking at the heart monitor. He turns the screen toward me and I can see Scott’s heartbeat rising steadily. Scott shakes his head, silent. “No? How about the night before that?”

More silence.

“How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read… in your entire life!”

“I- I- uh,” Scott stammers. As I watch the number on the monitor go up, I exchange a worried glance with Stiles, and I shift in my seat.

“No? A blog? How about, uh, the back of a cereal box? No? How about the adults only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?” When Scott doesn’t answer, Coach walks away toward his desk. “Thank you McCall, thank you. Thank you!” He pounds his desk with every word. “Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation.” The beeping on the heart monitor goes even faster. I consider yelling at Coach to stop, but then I figure yelling at a teacher would not end well for me. “You just blew it for everybody. Thanks. Next practice you can start with suicide runs. Unless that’s too much reading.”

Just as I think Scott is going to wolf out, the beeping on the monitor decreases and Stiles looks at me, relieved. I let out a breath.

“Alright,” Coach says, slightly calmer now. “Everybody else, settle down.” I look over at Scott to see what happened that made him calm, and when I crane my neck, I can see his and Allison’s hands intertwined. I smile to myself. She kept him calm.

____________

“It’s her,” Stiles says as soon as we leave the classroom.

“What do you mean?” Scott asks.

“It’s Allison.” At Scott’s confused expression, he continues. “Remember what you told us about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her.”

“Okay.”

“Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out in the field.”

“Yeah, I did,” Scott confirmed.

Now seeing where Stiles was going with this, I continue. “That’s what brought you back so you could score the goal,” I say. “And then after the game in the locker room, you didn’t kill her. At least not like how you were trying to kill Stiles and I.” Scott shoots me a glare. “She brings you back, is what I am trying to say.”

“No, no, no, no, but that’s not always true,” Scott protests, “because literally every time I’m kissing her or- or touching her…”

“No, that’s not the same,” Stiles says. “When you’re doing that, you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know?”

Scott starts to smile. “You’re thinking about sex right now, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Stiles says. “Look, back in the classroom when she was holding your hand- was different, okay? I don’t think she makes you weak. I- I think she actually gives you control.”

“She’s kind of like an anchor,” I say.

“You mean because I love her,” Scott says as we all stop by the stairs.

“Exactly,” Stiles says, not processing what Scott blurted out.

Scott looks down, shocked. “Did I just say that?”

I start to smile. “Yep,” I quip.

“Yes, you just said that,” Stiles says.

Scott breathes out a laugh, a dreamy expression on his face. “I love her.”

“That’s great. Now moving on-”

“No, no, no, really,” he interrupts. “I think I’m totally in love with her.”

“Aww,” I say, grinning. “My best friend is in love.” I catch Stiles staring at me, and I can’t read his expression. “What?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing. N-nothing,” he says. I give him a weird look and focus on Scott.

“I am,” Scott continues, oblivious to whatever just happened. “I’m definitely in love with her.”

“And that’s beautiful,” Stiles says, obviously wanting to move on. “Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out please? Because you obviously can’t be around her all the time.”

Scott shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sorry. So, what do I do?”

Stiles and I exchange a look. I sigh, and we both look back at Scott. “We actually have no idea. Yet.”

Thinking hard, Stiles turns in a full circle. “Oh, no,” Scott says, noticing the look on Stiles’s face. “You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says.

“Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?”

“Maybe.”

“Is this idea better or worse than Viv’s?”

Stiles contemplates for a minute before answering, “It might be just a tad worse than Viv’s.”

Scott and I exchange a worried glance. “Is this idea gonna cause Scott physical pain?” I feel the need to ask.

“Yeah, definitely,” Stiles answers without hesitating. “Come on.”

Scott and I follow Stiles out the side doors to the parking lot, and toward a truck nearby. Scott looks around and asks hesitantly, “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Hold on,” Stiles says. We stop in front of the truck, and I spot a group of guys talking nearby. “Okay. Scott, stand right there. Do you have your keys?” Scott takes them out and holds them up silently. “Perfect. Hold ‘em up, like so.” He takes Scott’s arm and sets it into the air. “Just like that.”

He looks behind him, and I follow his eyes to the group of guys nearby. I start to get a bad feeling in my stomach. He’s not…? No. This can’t be his idea, can it?

“Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison,” Stiles continues. “Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?” Scott nods. “Okay.” Stiles accepts Scott’s nod and looks behind him at the group again, and the bad feeling in my stomach gets bigger. “Just… keep holding it right there.”

Stiles takes out his own keys and steps closer to the truck, me following. He scrapes his own keys against the entire side of the truck as we walk, and I grimace at the noise. He grabs my elbow leading me behind the truck as he points at Scott and yells, “Hey, hey, hey, dude! What do you think you’re doing to that truck, bro?”

The guys move their eyes over to us, then the truck, and then finally to Scott, who looks downright scared at this point. “What the hell?” The one in the hat shouts at Scott, who is still holding his own keys up, him and his friends walking over to him.

Scott quickly shoves his keys in his pocket, just in time to get punched in the face by the guy in the hat. “Oh, my god, wow,” Stiles says, throwing his hands up. I wince as the other two guys join in on beating on Scott. Good thing he heals quickly.

As the three guys start kicking him, the monitor starts beeping faster as Scott’s heart rate increases. “Ah, come on, stay calm,” he says. “Stay calm.” We grimace again as we look back up at the guys and Scott. “Oh, that’s not okay. Scott. Come on, buddy.”

I wince again and close my eyes, the beeping filling my ears. I only open them when I hear a voice call out, “Stop! Hey, stop it right now.” I look up to see Mr. Harris pull the guys off and away from Scott, who all scatter. “What do you idiots think you’re doing?”

Stiles holds up the phone, smirking as he shows off the low heart rate Scott has now since he calmed down. He was right.

____________

How Scott, Stiles, and I get detention but not the guys who were beating up Scott, I have no idea.

All three of us are now sitting in Harris’s classroom, squeezed into one lab table, me in the middle. Our homework is in front of us, but none of us can focus on it. “Excuse me, sir?” Scott says. “Uh, I know this is detention and all, but, uh, I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.”

Harris just glances at Scott and looks back down at his papers without a word.

“You knew I would heal,” Scott whispers to Stiles.

“Yep,” Stiles says.

“So, you did that to help me learn.”

“Yep.”

“But partially to punish me.”

“Yeah. Well, that one’s obvious.”

I snort.

Scott sighs. “Dude, you’re my best friend, and I can’t have you being angry with me.”

Stiles rubs his mouth and reluctantly says, “I’m not angry anymore. Look, you have something Scott. Okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So that means you don’t have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something.”

“I know. And I will.”

I smile, glad they finally made up.

“Alright, all of you, out of here,” Harris says, interrupting a perfectly good moment between bros.

“Thank you,” Scott gratefully says as we all grab our stuff to leave. As we exit the room, I can feel Harris’s eyes on us.

____________

Later that night, Stiles pulls into the parking lot of the school. Scott, Stiles, and I all hop out and walk to the back of the Jeep. “This is a terrible idea,” Stiles says immediately.

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says.

“But we’re still going to do it?” Stiles asks.

“Can you think of something better?” Scott counters.

Stiles sweeps his arm in front of him and says, “Well, personally, I’m a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away.” He turns to me. “Viv, you got anything?”

“I got absolutely nothing, Han,” I say, shaking my head.

“Why, thank you, Leia,” he says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes playfully. “Shut up.” I turn back to Scott. “If this is what gets me killed, I’m going to murder you.”

“Noted,” Scott says. “Just make sure we can get inside.” Stiles opens the Jeep’s trunk and takes out a large pair of bolt-cutters, just as a car pulls up. “He’s here.” We walk over to meet Derek by his car.

“Where’s my boss?” Scott asks.

“He’s in the back,” Derek answers, very calmly for a guy who kidnapped someone.

We lean down to see Scott’s boss tied up in the backseat. “Oh, well, he looks comfortable,” Stiles says sarcastically

Straightening, I say, “As the sister and the goddaughter of two cops, I feel obligated to tell you that kidnapping is illegal.”

“You just said you would kill me if this plan got you killed,” Scott says.

I shrug. “Well, I’ll at least haunt the hell out of you.”

“Something to look forward to.” Scott and Stiles exchange a look and start heading toward the school. “Viv, you coming?” Scott asks.

“I’m going to stay out here,” I say. “Be an extra set of eyes on Deaton.”

Stiles eyes Derek, but doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Scott nods and pulls him toward the door.

“Wait. Hey,” Derek calls. “What are you doing?”

“You said I was linked with the alpha,” Scott shrugs. “I’m gonna see if you’re right.” With that, he and Stiles walk toward the school doors. When they get the doors open. Stiles throws another glance back at Derek and I before following Scott inside.

“You didn’t have to stay out here,” Derek says. I’m glad he is the first one to speak- the silence was actually really uncomfortable.

“I know,” I say. “But if I went with them, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. I have two things I want to tell you.”

“Two things specifically?” Derek asks, slightly sarcastic.

I glare at him. “One: Scott is my best friend. Him and Stiles- they mean the world to me. I want you to keep Scott safe.”

“The alpha is powerful, Vivian. I-“

“I know the alpha is powerful. And I know at some point, Scott will have to fight him. It might be tonight, with this god awful plan, or it might be tomorrow, or the next day, or any day after that. I’m not asking you if the alpha is powerful- I am asking you to keep my friend safe.”

After a minute, Derek speaks. “You are very protective.”

I shrug. “Well, like I said, Scott and Stiles mean a lot to me. I want them to be okay. The only way Scott is going to be okay is if you keep him safe.”

Derek nods. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

After a second more of silence, Derek speaks again. “What was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I’m really sorry about your sister,” I say quickly.

Derek looks down, his expression hardening. “Why?” He asks.

“Well, I know what it’s like to lose your sister- to lose anyone you love.” I take a deep breath. “It feels like- losing your other half.” Derek’s face softens. I clear my throat. “I just- want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I didn’t have anyone who understood what it was like to lose a sibling, and I’m guessing you feel the same way. But I’m here if you need me.”

Before Derek can respond, we hear the loudest, most strangled-sounding noise in the entire world coming from the school. I immediately bust out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Derek winces.

When it’s over, and I gain control of myself, I turn to Derek. “So, I’ve never heard a werewolf howl before, but somehow I don’t think that was it.”

“That definitely wasn’t it,” Derek says, shaking his head.

After a minute, another howl came from the school. Except this time, it sounds like an actual roar. I smile as it ends. “Way to go, Scott,” I say. Derek doesn’t look as enthused as he walks around the Jeep to stare at the school. He doesn’t say anything; he just wears a stony expression until Scott and Stiles rejoin us in the parking lot.

“I’m going to kill both of you,” he snaps as soon as Scott and Stiles are in earshot. “What the hell was that?” I walk up to them and high-five both of them, grinning. “Vivian, stop high-fiving them. What were you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?”

Scott shrugs, glancing at Stiles and I. “Sorry. I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

“Yeah, it was loud,” Stiles agrees. “And it was awesome!” He sings the last word, making Scott and I chuckle.

“Shut up,” Derek deadpans.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf,” Stiles jokes, flicking his hand out toward Derek. I snort, but my smile drops as Scott hits Stiles’s shoulder.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asks, his eyes glued to Derek’s car.

“What?” Derek asks. We all turn to look at the backseat… which is now empty. Where the hell did Deaton go? “I didn’t do anything.”

At Scott and Stiles’s disbelieving expressions, I say, “Guys, he didn’t. I was out here the whole time- Derek didn’t do anything.”

I stare at the car, confused, until I hear a growl and blood starts coming out of Derek’s mouth. I gasp, eyes widening in horror as Derek is lifted up by the extremely fucking terrifying alpha. I barely register Stiles grab my arm and pull me toward the school.

There’s another loud, absolutely petrifying growl, and a thud against the side of the building, but I don’t look back as we reach the double doors and open them as swiftly as possible.

We rush inside and slam the doors closed, ducking under the windows before the alpha can follow us in. I lean against the doors, barely noticing I’m clutching onto Stiles’s arm, breathing heavily. “What the fuck just happened?” I ask.

[shebe67]

50 Questions

I was tagged by @sand1128

1.       What is your name: Sheila

2.       What does your name mean? heavenly or of the heavens

3.       Where are you from? Born and raised in Missouri

4.       Where do you live? Missouri

5.       What do you do for a living?  Office manager

6.       What is your favorite color? Blue

7.       What is your star sign? Pisces

8.       What is your favorite music genre?  If I have to pick one, country. 

9.       Who is your favorite musician? Blake Shelton and Elvis Presley

10.   Favorite food? St. Louis style pizza

11.   Favorite drink? Fuzzy navel

12.   Favorite snack? Popcorn, more specifically Kettle Corn

13.   Favorite holiday? Christmas

14.   Favorite past time? Reading and watching my favorite old shows

15.   Favorite sport? Baseball and Nascar

16.   What is something you are talented at? Procrastinating

17.   What is something you wish you were talented at? Crafting, DIY projects

18.   Are you competitive? At times…depends on the situation

19.   Describe yourself in a single sentence?  I am quiet and reserved, but if you make me mad I can go from 0 to B***h in 2.3 seconds

20.   What is the best compliment you’ve ever received? Always when someone tells me I remind them of my mother.

21.   What are some of your bad habits? Cursing, biting my nails

22.   What are your favorite things about yourself? Hardworking, honest

23.   What is on top of your bucket list? Visiting Paris, France

24.   What are 3 long term goals?  Provide for my family, buy a home instead of renting, save for retirement.

25.   What are 3 short term goals?  Complete the two Rucas oneshots I’m working on, Rewrite what I have and and work on my The Walking Dead fic, take a couple of writing classes online. 

26.   What are you doing today to help you achieve those goals?  Working on the fanfics, Enrolled in those online classes today.

27.   What is your biggest accomplishment? 23 years of marriage and my 3 kids.

28.   What is an ideal first date for you?  Taking a walk or meeting somewhere and talking. 

29.   What is something you look for in a partner?  Already got him, he makes me laugh. 

30.   Who is your role model? My mom

31.   Which of your parents are you more like? My mom

32.   Which of your parents are you closest to? My Mom now but as a kid and before he died, my daddy. 

33.   What is the last book you read?  Can’t even remember...probably some romance novel. 

34.   What is your favorite fairytale? Cinderella

35.   What is your favorite quote?  “God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can and the Wisdom to know the difference”

36.   Favorite subject in school? Band

37.   Subject you were best at? Band

38.   Favorite teacher? Our high school librairian...I was a library nerd

39.   Do you have a best friend, if so, then who? Kay, Kim and Denice

40.   Who has left the most impact on your life? My mom

41.   What app do you use most? Tumblr/facebook

42.   What piece of technology can you not live without? Laptop/iPad

43.   What countries have you visited? Mexico and England/Scotland

44.   What countries would you like to visit? France,Ireland and Australia

45.   Favorite animal? Koala Bears

46.   Best memory you have? The births of my children

47.   Most embarrassing memory? As a kid going to the bathroom alone and walking into the men’s...thank goodness no one was in there. 

48.   How many relationships have you been in? one

49.   If you could give your younger self any advice what would it be? It will get better. Tell people what they mean to you…. Spend more time with Grams as an adult.

50.   One thing you know now that you wish you had known as a kid? I wish I had known that I would lose my dad and maternal grandparents at such a young age. Dad was killed when I was 11 and grandparents at 19. I would have made more memories toward the end of their lives.

Tagging anyone that wants to participate

[hellofastestnewsfan]

When a DNA Test Shatters Your Identity

“These are boom times for consumer DNA tests,” Sarah Zhang wrote last month. But what happens when the results are shocking? Many people, she found, have turned to support groups on Facebook as they try to come to terms with surprising revelations about their own origins.

Last year, I asked my dad for a 23andMe kit for my birthday. My mother passed away 14 years ago and I’m an only child (or thought I was). I also got my dad and stepmom kits for fun; they bought another one for my husband. We were going to have a “reveal” party. I got my results first (I cheated and peeked), and was shocked to find out I am half Italian. Neither of my parents has any Italian heritage. Since I hadn’t previously disclosed Italian heritage to 23andMe, a very cheerful dialogue box appeared that asked, “Wondering where your Italian heritage comes from? Click on DNA relatives.” I did and a half brother appeared—and that is when I knew that I wasn’t biologically related to my dad. Because I was worried that my dad would find out the same way I did, through the website, I spoke to him in person that same day. It was the most gut-wrenching conversation I’ve ever had. My father wept, but then admitted that he had had his doubts (but didn’t know how to tell me) due to the fact that he and my mother were separated when she became pregnant.

Many years ago, I had heard a rumor from my mother’s relatives that I wasn’t biologically my father’s child. I was told that she worked at an Italian restaurant and had a relationship with the owner. When my mom was very ill with cancer, I worked up the courage to ask about this. My mother denied it so emphatically and angrily that I felt foolish and ashamed wasting the limited time we had left asking a question that implied she was unfaithful to my father. My family members on my mother’s side are known for being colorful storytellers who rarely let the truth stand in the way of a good story, so I chalked it up to just that ... a fiction. I wish it were possible to attempt a second conversation with my mom.

When I first found out the news, I considered taking a leave of absence from work because I had difficulty focusing on anything else besides the revelation from 23andMe. On a hard day, I feel heartbroken about my mom’s secret. Her illness created an intimacy between us in the final months of her life and I felt that we were able to tell each other all the things in our heart. This news taints that memory and created a fresh bout of grieving about her death.

I’ve since met my biological father, his wife, my five siblings, their spouses and children, as well as other extended family. I found out that I was conceived between my biological father’s first and second marriages. They are just how you imagine a warm, big-hearted Italian family to be: accepting, loving, and eager to create a relationship with me (I realize how lucky I am in this regard). Not growing up with them or knowing them sooner feels like a loss. Seeing a therapist, journaling, talking to trusted friends, and the passage of time have helped immensely. On a good day (and most days are good), I feel a tremendous amount of compassion for my father who raised me, my biological father, and my mother. I’m saddened that she couldn’t tell the truth even at the end of her life—surely she would have known we would have forgiven her. I also have empathy for her, especially after reflecting on the fact that she faced the decision whether to terminate the pregnancy and then carried the burden of the secret of my paternity for the rest of her life. Her childhood was filled with trauma and abuse and I’ve come to accept that she didn’t have the skills to take ownership of her choices.

But, what a surprise to have in middle age!

Kasi Mireles Taylor Aurora, Colo.

Oh my! Talk about timing.

For 66 years I have not only known who my family was, but also done fairly extensive genealogy research.

Three or four days ago it became clear to me that half of those folks have no relation to me. While I’m not devastated that my actual father is a man I’ve never met and didn’t know existed, the news was a gut-punch. I teared up knowing that I had given my name—a name that I was proud of, but a name that I had no right to pass on—to my wife and to my sons.

I’ll not be joining this support group, but there is an odd comfort in knowing that it and its members are out there.  

My siblings are coming to town this weekend to give me a hug and show their support. That means a lot to me. Our mom, my biological father, and the dad who raised me have all passed, so really this changes little. Perhaps the only real change is the new family members that are out there.

Bill Williams San Antonio, Tex.

I too found unexpected results to my 23andMe and Ancestry DNA tests. When I got 23 percent Italian on 23andMe, I thought it was incorrect, so I tried Ancestry and got 30 percent Italian. I always believed I was half Irish, Swedish, and German. I found I have two Italian first cousins I never heard of. My father—who I now believe was not my biological father—had both of his parents born in County Clare, Ireland. I always relished in my Irish heritage. Now I feel left out on a limb. There are no siblings left alive, my parents have passed. I have asked my nephew (my sister’s son) to do the Ancestry test to see if I come up related to him. I am 72 and now wonder, who the heck was my father? Is this correct or was there a mistake somewhere? This interesting test has turned out to be a nightmare. I lie awake at 2 a.m. wondering where the connection is. Very baffling.

Barbara Chance Hammonton, N.J.

I always knew that I was adopted. It was a bedtime story meant to reassure me that I was wanted and loved. But as I grew older, I would stare in the mirror and wonder who I looked like. Did I have any half-siblings? Where were my birth parents? When I married and had children, questions about my nonexistent medical history suddenly seemed more important. After my parents died, I searched for my birth family and found a second cousin who helped identify my birth mother. My birth mother had died just nine months before I took my DNA test. I learned that I attended church in Oklahoma City with her and never knew. (My godfather, who arranged the adoption, was the pastor, but tragically died in a plane crash before I could ask him about my adoption.) My birth mother attended the college football games where I performed in the band’s halftime show. Her aunt bought a house down the street from me.

Once I had identified my birth mother, I used DNA cousin matches to identify my father, who had died in 1993.

Even though my birth family has been wonderful and accepting, I still struggle sometimes with my sense of identity and sense of place. There are huge swings in emotion: elation at having found my birth family, gratitude for my cousins’ acceptance, and a profound sense of loss and grief over two people that I will never meet. I feel the insecurity that I have crashed someone else’s party and don’t really belong.   

Although I was prepared for the factual information that might be revealed and knew that it might not have a positive outcome, nothing prepared me for the emotions that came with even a relatively happy ending. The emotional extremes of having a gain and a loss all at the same time are difficult to express.  

Holly Morgan San Antonio, Tex.

About three years ago, when I was almost 60 years old, I learned through an Ancestry DNA test that my dad was not my biological father. Ever since then, I have felt as if one of my wings had been cut off. I learned that such an event can bring emotions similar to those in the seven stages of grief. At this point, I have reached the stage of reflection.

I do not know if I was conceived during a long-term love affair, in a single moment of passion, or in an act of brutal violence.

“How do you feel knowing that Opa is not your real grandfather?” I asked my own daughter in a text message. Her immediate reply read: “It’s not DNA that makes a family.”

Marian Litvaitis Madbury, N.H.

Because I was about to become a grandparent, I decided to do 23andMe just for full disclosure for the next generation. Never in my wildest imagination did I expect to find that I was only 50 percent Ashkenazi Jewish. Not being able to explain this, I had my sister do the test. She was 100 percent Ashkenazi Jewish. This had to mean my father was not my father. I was shocked and devastated. I had my brother do the test and he came back with a different father altogether.

My mother is 93, with dementia, and initially she denied that my father was not my biological father. But when I had her alone, she admitted the truth.

I am not sure I am glad I found all this out, but it has been fascinating to put the pieces together.

Patty Friedman Chevy Chase, Md.

Several years ago, my dad passed away. He was a secretive man, and I never knew much about his family history. My husband gave me an AncestryDNA kit for my birthday so I could learn more about my father.

Be careful what you wish for, right?

The results didn’t make much sense. Instead of Irish and English, as predicted, my Ancestry test revealed a great deal of Sephardic Jewish and Greek/Turkish heritage. It also yielded a “first cousin” that I didn’t know.

I attributed this to faulty results, like so many people do. But my “first cousin” turned out to be a half-nephew I didn’t know existed, from one of four siblings I also never knew I had.

My father was a complete stranger.

It took me a year to come to terms with the reality, and then nail down who I thought my father might be—then a few more months of background checks and internet stalking to decide if I wanted to make contact.

I sent that first letter on my birthday last year, August 21. It’s been almost a year since my world turned upside down, but in that time I have met my birth father, a new stepmother, a half-sister, and a half-brother; I’ve spoken to another half-brother and know there’s yet another. I am the youngest of at least five.

DNA is unburying all those dirty little secrets. I don’t regret the truth, but truth comes with responsibility. We need to start responsibly handling something so drastically life-altering.

Meg Watt Pittsburgh, Pa.

from The Atlantic https://ift.tt/2PhbCgR

[ohchetitspoojita]

With all that's being shown in media in regards to patriotism, neo nazis & the KKK I wasn't entirely certain how to feel up until recently when I was told I couldn't understand how blacks felt. I felt entirely offended. I am first generation, American born in my family. My family happens to be Fijian-Indians, an while my parents and grandparents are proud to be Fijian-Indians. I, myself I only consider myself Indian. I can still recall being in third grade, watching the terrorist attacks on tv, being called a terrorist because although I wasn't from the Middle East I just so happened to be one of the few brown kids in my grade. It wasn't until I was older and taught about my culture and how my people came to be that I was truly proud to be Indian. Growing up in 90's coming to school with my moms cooking meant getting weird glances as to why my food had such a strong scent or being referred to as "dot head, target point, sand n-----, etc", henna being stupid, Bollywood sounding weird, traditional clothing being an issue or being asked if I can be just called Jasmine because my name isn't easy enough for them to pronounce and now in present day America everything I was once judged and criticized about is suddenly a fashion statement for other minorities. When I first learned about how Indians ended up in Fiji, the Caribbean, South African and South America I honestly and sincerely disliked whites. Why? Because when my ancestors where taken from India to work as Indian indenture they were split up from their families, they're heritage, they're culture, everything stripped away from them. Indians from India don't look at Indians from other countries as there equal, we don't tend to speak entirely similar as those in India. We've come to blend what we have left of our culture with whatever country we then reside in and build our families in. Throughout the years I've befriended many Africans born & raised in Africa who look at African Americans as being beneath them or in other words "uneducated or ghetto" depending on where ever they are from just as Indians see other Indians. My step father who happens to be German, can trace back his ancestry for decades. My family although it is a huge family of fourteen siblings (my grandfathers siblings) we can roughly guess where my great, great, GREAT grandfather was born & raised in India. Do you realize how hard it is to trace back ancestry over a hundred years and in such a populated country? I support black lives matter, because although we all ended here because of the same reasons we all had parts of our history and our culture stripped from us. Being a mother to a half Hispanic child I want her to have open view points and understand that society is fair. Yes, this countries history is build on lives being taken but what countries isn't? When I see white people saying they are trying to preserve "white history" I think of how foolish they sound, what exactly is white history? If you can trace back your ancestry and know that your family originated in Ireland, then by ALL MEANS BE PROUD TO BE IRISH. If your family is from Spain, BE PROUD TO SPANIARDS. Be proud of where your family is from and the rich history your originating country preserves. Just as my parents are proud to Fijian, I see Fiji as a tropical getaway simply because I was born & raised in America. I was raised from strict, traditional Indian parents who regardless of their birth land were taught the core values passed down to them from generations. I am proud to be Indian because of my ancestors, because of the beautiful history of India that although I cant pinpoint I am proud to know that's where my people fought for their freedom. I support culture and history. I do not support bigotry or racism. I do not support hatred. And all although I am aware of the lives lost, it's not a matter of the numbers of who suffered more, it's a matter of moving forward and stopping this hatred. Stopping this injustice because we're not just hurting one another, we are teaching our children it's okay to belittled and dehumanize others simply because of the color of their skin and of whom they chose to follow religious and spiritually. It ALL ENDS WITH US.