javier ortiz || 21 || he/they
the doctors were nice enough they just said i'm fucked just like my mom is fucked i bet your dad's fucked up and in the blacklight i could tell a sick joke maybe in the blacklight
i could tell a sick joke
twinkle twinkle little star alcoholics don't get far unless they drink and drive
"let's go for a ride."
and i hope i crash and die tonight i hope i crash and die tonight saying "I do not like you."
JAVIER ORTIZ ( HE/THEY ) is a DEMIBOY, TWENTY-ONE year old COLLEGE STUDENT/DELIA’S CAFE EMPLOYEE who has been living in Moorbrooke for EIGHT YEARS. They were born on MAY 18 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like MICHAEL CIMINO and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose GENERATION WHY by CONAN GRAY.
cw for past abuse, homophobia, & abandonment
You are born into a powder keg of a relationship. Your mother hopes you will save the relationship. You do not. Only just born, and you’re on a losing streak. It is a good foreshadow of things to come. Your parents divorce before you start preschool. You pretend not to do the math, years later, when recalling your mother remarries within the same year.
Your stepfather, who never once wants to be called ‘Dad’, does not hide that he settled for you. You and your mother are a package deal, as much as he hates it. He did try to get your mom to pass you off to your father, but he barely has the means to provide for himself. There isn’t a judge in the state who’d let him take you. So you’re stuck with your mother, and Chris. By the time you’re finishing elementary school, your mom and Chris have two kids.
Chris, despite your mother’s hopes, does not warm up to you. You are the odd one out, and he never lets you forget it. He’ll cycle between wanting nothing to do with you, and scrutinizing everything you do, punishments for perceived transgressions swift and unyielding. It makes you a fast liar. Maybe not always a good one, but no one ever asks further. You almost wish they would. You don’t know where you’d go, but anywhere feels better than that house.
Luck is on your side, or maybe not, when you’re just 13. You’re not afforded privacy in the house, but you do your best. It’s not enough, and Chris finds out. He won’t tell you who told him, but someone had to have told him about the account. He sees everything, and though all of it angers him, your teenage worries about your own sexuality, your assertion that you’re gay. That’s the final straw for Chris.
He tells you you’re lucky he’s even letting you pack a bag, and that summer you’re gone. He oh so graciously allows you to stay until you secure a promise from a cousin in Moorbrooke to let you move in. You start eighth grade in a completely new town and it is...rough. High school is easier. High school has the highs and lows of marching band and pep rallies and realizing pansexual fits you a little better. You make friends, you get your heart broken a couple times, you wipe out on a skateboard in your junior year and now your wrist pops if you move it just right.
Moorbrooke was a salvation. It was everything you remember wishing for in your younger years, and even if you wished it had been an option on better terms, as the years go by, you’re glad to be here rather than there. Your cousin feels every bit like who your mother could have been, if circumstance hadn’t been so cruel. You don’t fault her for what happens, and you actually manage to reconnect with her when you turn 20, finding out, to your relief, her and Chris are in the past, and she’s doing well. In all, things were rough, but you made it out, which was all you’d ever really hoped for.
