#supportive parent

[sapphicapparition]

I came out to my mom as aroace and she was so accepting I’m so glad and lucky I have her <333 :,)

[reservedrainbow]

I never had supportive parents. So I will be your supportive parent. We'll have a puntastic time. But lesbihonest, my puns are a little frustgayingly bad.

[bazzybelle]

Carry On Countdown - Day Thirteen

Notes: So... This came about when reading about Baz’s sadness in regards to his father, and I just want someone to yell at Malcolm for being so stubborn and ughhhh. Title and quote at the beginning were inspired by the Pink’s song “F***ng Perfect” (a song that honestly means the world to me. God, I love her). This takes place right after Carry On. 

Disclaimer: So, I tried my very best to be as sensitive as possible in this story. I’ve shared this story already with people I respect and love and they’ve given me positive feedback on what I was trying to accomplish. I do understand everyone’s experiences and perceptions are different. With that being said, there are parts during the story that may be triggering to some. I’ve mentioned before that my stories focus on healing and understanding, and I hope I was able to convey that. If my story fell short, I sincerely apologize. 

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz and @fight-surrender for the never ending love and support as I was writing this story. Also thank you to @giishu and @f-ing-ruthless-baz for the encouragement and positive feedback. 

TW: I’m gonna put a trigger warning for implied homophobia. Also another one for difficult family. 

Day 13 Prompt: Parental Figures 

Title: You’re F***in’ Perfect to Me

________________________________________________________________

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than f*ckin' perfect. Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're f*ckin' perfect to me!

DAPHNE

I am not his mother. 

I have to remember that. 

There have been many times where I just wanted to hold him and brush the hair away from his face, especially after a bad quarrel with his father. But, I have to remember. 

I am not his mother. 

It’s been 13 years since I joined the Grimm-Pitch household as Malcolm’s wife. If I had to be honest, it was not a role I would have asked for, but one that I accepted. I was the only daughter left to be married from a branch of the Waters family. Malcolm and I had been friends during our time at Watford. He was good friends with my fiance, Declan. Declan and I were supposed to be married right after graduating from Watford, but he was killed in a skirmish between some magicians. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, because the Declan I knew would never risk his life for a stupid squabble between boys. 

I died the same day he did. Declan died and I had lost any other fight to be happy. Nothing mattered in my life anymore because he was gone from it. 

So when Malcolm showed up on my doorstep, a year after losing the love of his life, and asked that I become his second wife, well my parents all but jumped at the opportunity to marry their daughter to a Grimm. 

I refused. I wanted nothing to do with Malcolm Grimm and with being the replacement to the great Natasha Pitch.

Then I met Basilton. 

There was something about the sad, lonely little boy that broke the walls I had put up around my heart. I would never replace his mother, I knew that. But this child needed someone to give him comfort, a sense of stability. This child needed a motherly presence. So I accepted and I married Malcolm.

Marriage to Malcolm was not what I expected. We were never truly intimate, only really engaging in intercourse to provide more children to the household. We did find comfort in each other, and a shared sense of mourning for the loves we had lost. It hasn’t been an unhappy marriage, but Malcolm and I were more like best friends rather than lovers. My children (all 5 of them), brought me a happiness that I never thought I would feel again after losing Declan.

I had tried to be a calming presence in Basilton’s torrential life. I offered him support and as much love as I could. I took him to his violin lessons when he was younger, I taught him how to drive. I watched him grow up into an amazing young man. 

I raised him. 

I raised him and I loved him. 

I still love him. 

The six weeks where we lost him, were the worst six weeks of my life. I could not eat; I could not sleep. Malcolm had to cast sleeping spells on me just to get me to rest. I was running on reserve energy, walking in a day dream. When we got him back, it took everything in me to let him leave for school. I did not want to send him back to that hostile place, where there were people who wanted to do him harm. 

Malcolm often told me that I risk overstepping my boundaries when it came to Basilton. He accuses me of being somewhat overbearing. Of course I overstep my boundaries! The poor child’s life has not been easy. Losing a mother at such a young age, at the same time becoming afflicted with a condition that would almost certainly mean death if the Coven knew about it. Someone had to worry about him, and to care about him. 

But… we don’t talk about Basilton’s condition.

We don’t talk about Basilton’s condition, nor do we talk about Natasha. 

And we certainly don’t talk about Basilton’s homosexuality. 

When Malcolm and I first learned that Basilton was dating Simon Snow, it was a shock to me. More so because, as far as I knew, Mr. Snow hated Basilton. I remember gently touching Basilton’s arm and asking him if he was sure about this, and if he was happy about it. When he nodded, it was all I needed to know. Malcolm did not take the news well. He waved it off as a phase, and refused to bring up the topic again. I had tried to get him to understand his son, but he refused to listen to me and would often shoot me down. 

My foot came down tonight, at dinner. I was tired of not talking anymore. I was tired of seeing the look of anxiety on Basilton’s face every time he had to come home to visit. I was tired of Malcolm not listening. 

Malcolm had started to pressure him. Going on about expectations and what his future plans were. Basilton kept giving one-word answers, but I could see his eyes becoming more and more narrow, his fists clutching tightly at the table cloth. I focused my attention on the other children, but kept glancing between the two.

Malcolm didn’t notice (and if he did, I don’t think he would have acknowledged it). He started talking about having Basilton come to more Coven meetings and start learning how the Coven worked so that, when the time came, he would be ready to take his place. Basilton grumbled that he did not want to spend his life arguing at Coven meetings. There were other interests he wanted to pursue. 

Then Malcolm threw a bomb.

He asked if those interests included Simon Snow. I glared at him when those words left him. I stated that his comment was uncalled for, but Malcolm ignored me. I could see Basilton becoming more and more agitated, as he asked his father to understand that Simon Snow was more than just a silly interest. I listened as he asked his father to understand that Simon was a very important part of his life. I listened, and Malcolm avoided and ignored. It all came to a head when he demanded that Basilton start really thinking about his future and that the expectations that came with his name could not include Simon Snow. 

I think I may have exploded at that point. I was not proud of losing my temper, but at that point, I had enough.

I slammed my napkin on the table loud enough to startle the twins and cause the baby to begin crying. Vera had to come in and take her away. I turned to Malcolm and hissed that it was enough. Basilton had taken the distraction to angrily leave the table. With dinner sufficiently ruined, I gathered the rest of the children and ushered them upstairs. 

After putting the children to bed, I had wanted to speak to Basilton, but figured it was best to give him some space in order to process everything before going to talk to him. Besides, he was most likely hunting on the grounds. So, I went into the master bedroom and started to think about what would come from the evening. I was not worried about the stability of my marriage. Malcolm would not dare bring about the scandal of divorce into this household. It was one of the few instances where I could use Malcolm’s insistence on propriety to my benefit. Tonight, I would finally speak up. Tonight, I would fight for his son. 

Overstepping my boundaries be damned.

I am brushing my hair at my vanity, when Malcolm walks into the bedroom. I can feel his foreboding presence behind me, even before I notice his reflection in the mirror. He looks rather cross with me. I take a deep breath and place my brush on the counter. I stand up from the chair and face my husband.

“You made quite a spectacle of yourself at dinner.” He states in an icy tone. 

“I cannot stay silent anymore Malcolm.” I stare at his dark eyes and defiantly place my hands on my hips.

Malcolm stands inches to my face and points his finger at me. “Watch yourself, Daphne.” He speaks in a quiet, yet threatening voice. I scoff at him. Let him threaten me. I push his finger away from my face and point towards Basilton’s room. 

“He is your son! He is your brilliant, strong, incredibly kind-hearted son, who is only asking you to accept him for who he is!” I do not realize that my voice has risen so high that I am practically shouting. I hope the children will not hear our argument. 

Malcolm rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head. “He’s a child, Daphne! He doesn’t know who he is!” I look at him incredulously. I cannot believe that this was the same man who wept when Basilton was brought home, after those horrid six weeks. 

“Bollocks Malcolm! He is more sure of himself than anyone I have ever known!” I raise my hands over my head. I must be making quite a show of myself right now. Merlin help me, I do not care. These are feelings that should have been expressed months ago. 

“He is a PITCH! There are expectations that go with that name.” Malcolm is still so calm, but the way that he says his late wife’s name. As if nothing could possibly hold more weight. I continue to shake my head, and angrily pace around the bedroom.

“I cannot believe you are forcing that upon him! Malcolm, we have BOTH lost the people we love the most in this world. Yet, here you are, trying to do the same thing to your own son!” My eyes begin to well with tears when I think back to Declan, and Natasha. Basilton does not deserve the same fate that befell myself and his father. He has found a little piece of happiness in his life and deserves to keep it. I point a finger up above me: “Do you think she-”

“Do not bring her up Daphne!” Malcolm thunders. I flinch involuntarily, I was not expecting him to shout like that. It is good to know that the man is capable of such emotion. I straighten myself out and address him calmly, as his friend. 

“I will bring her up Malcolm. Now I know that I am not his mother, you’ve reminded me of that fact plenty of times. But I have watched him grow up into a fine young man, and I do love him as if he were one of my own.” I reach out for his hand, imploring him to listen to me, for once in his life, to listen to someone instead of his own stubborn thoughts. I continue to speak gently to him. “I look at our children, and all I want is for them to be happy. I know that Natasha would want the same for Basilton.” Malcolm pulls away from me and walks to the fireplace

“He can be perfectly happy with the path set in front of him.” He speaks softly into the flames. I walk up beside him and grab his arm. I try to turn him towards me, and I need him to look at me as I address him. 

“That is not who he is. And he does not need to be anything more than the person he is right now. He’s bloody perfect, Malcolm. I wish you could see that.” Malcolm pulls away from me and back to the fire. He runs his hand through his white hair. 

“It isn’t about that. I refuse to let the Pitch name-”

“Rubbish Malcolm! Your son’s happiness is more important than his name.” I interrupt him now. I am frankly tired of hearing about the Pitch name. Basilton is more than the name attached to him. 

“I will not let Natasha’s memory, her legacy die!” Malcolm slams his fist on the mantle of the fireplace. I jump back. I turn my head away from him. A part of me understands the severity of Malcolm’s words. A miniscule part of me, understands. It isn’t enough to convince me that he is right. I collect my thoughts and offer up one last plea, from my heart. 

“And it won’t! It’ll live on in the lasting influence she had, in the spells she created. It’ll live on in Basilton himself, in whatever path he chooses to follow.” I force his eyes to meet mine, for he has, up until this point, refused to look at me. “But Malcolm, if you reject him, if you refuse to acknowledge who he is and deny him who he loves, you will lose him. And you will only have yourself to blame!”

Malcolm responds by walking away from me. I hope that he simply needs some time to think about what I’ve said. So I grab my dressing gown and head towards the doors.  

“Where are you going?” Malcolm asks me.

“I need some time away from you right now I shall be in the sitting room.” I figure I have been honest with him so far, may as well continue. 

I step out of the room and rush down the stairs. I pray that none of the children have awoken after that argument. I can’t let them see me barely holding myself together. I feel my heart racing, and my hands are  shaking. I need a drink. My drink of choice is typically a deep red, a Merlot. But, tonight, after that fight, I decide to go for something stronger.

Shaky hands pull out my favourite gin: Edinburgh Seaside Gin. We have better quality gins in our collection, but this is my absolute favourite. I pour my glass and take a seat on the couch. It is after I take a few sips of the gin, where I begin to weep. 

“Did you mean it?” I leap onto my feet and whip around to see Basilton standing in the sitting room’s entrance. His cheeks are flushed, which indicates to me that he has recently fed himself. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and he is looking away from me.

“Basilton! Merlin, you gave me a fright!” I grasp at my chest. I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes and place the glass of gin on a small table. Basilton turns his head to me. His eyes are bloodshot, and I know that isn’t due to the feeding. 

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks me again. I walk up to him and gently caress his face. I smile at him and looked at him in his eyes.

“Every word.” 

Basilton pulls away from me. “I should apologize. I do not want to be a reason for you and father to get into an argument.” I gently lead him to the sofa and we sit down. I hold his hands in mine as I speak softly to him. 

“Do not apologize Basilton. I just wish I had done it sooner.” He looks up at me and gives me sad smile. 

“Thank you, mother.” He whispers.

“Always”, I tuck some of his hair behind his ear and smile at him. He nods as he gets up from the sofa. I say one last thing to him; “I understand that you may not want to come back here, and I cannot blame you. But if it’s alright with you and Simon, I would still like to be apart of your lives. I’m sure the younger children do as well. Wherever you feel most comfortable, we would like to still see you.”

Basilton smiles at me and gives me a simple nod before walking out of the room. I take a deep breath and sip some more of the gin. I look to my left and a grand portrait of Natasha Pitch looks down at me. I salute her and pray that I have done good enough for her son.

I am not his mother. I will never truly be his mother. He has a mother. 

Natasha, you have left impossible shoes for me to fill. Shoes I never wanted to fill. But I did, out of a sense of duty. Because my friend needed a wife, and his son needed a mother.

I could never replace you Natasha. You will always be Basilton’s mother. He will always be your son.

But, in my heart, I will always see Basilton as my son. 

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than f*ckin' perfect. Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're f*ckin' perfect to me!

[jem-hadewych]

Coming Out

     "James, are you sure you want to do this?" Lesley asked from his perch on the bathroom counter.      Jem looked up at him, three bottles of dye held in trembling hands, his normally black hair dyed to blond, "I...Yes. I want to do this. Besides, it's too late to turn back."       Les nodded, snapping one rubber glove on his hand theatrically, letting his American accent slip away and his Irish accent come back "Is the patient ready?"       Rolling his eyes, Jem tossed the bottles to Lesley, "Anyone that would see you for a doctor has a death wish."       He set the bottles aside on the counter, and leaned forward to hook one finger in Jems collar and pulling him closer. He leaned closer to him, getting so close that they could only see each others eyes, and muttered against Jems lips, "Who say's I'd be a medical doctor?"      Jem swallowed, his lips parting slowly before he asked "Then what, pray tell, would you be?"      Lesley smirked, "A doctor of cosmetology. What else?"      Jem groaned in frustration and playfully pushed Lesley away, "I hate you."       Lesley was laughing and pulled him back, "No you don't."       "You're right. I hate that excuse of a joke."       "I'll make it up to you later." Lesley said, glancing down at Jems body before looking back at his face and winking.      Jem blushed, and his ears turned red. The color was striking against the blond hair, "Just fix my hair, Les. Maybe it'll get your head out of the gutter."      "Easy said than done. But sit down. How much do you want it to blend together?"      Jem shrugged, sitting with his back to the counter, "Just don't make me look stupid."       Lesley leaned down once more, and whispered in his ear, "Dude...you don't need my help with that."       Jem leaned his head back to look up at Lesley, eyes narrowed and mouth frowning, "Are you running some sort of tally system in your head of things you'll need to make up to me or something?"       Lesley kissed his forehead, "Something. Chin down so I can work."       Jem flushed even more and obliged. Lesley worked the dyes into his hair in silence. He set it up so the pink, purple, and blue were tied up separately so they didn't muddle each other. He took the last pair of gloves off when he was done, "Ok, now we wait." Jem nodded, his leg bouncing nervously. Lesley gripped Jems shoulders, "It's a bit late to change your mind now. You ok?"       Jem started to nod, but then shook his head, "No. But I need to do this. It's been five years. I need this."      "That's probably true, but are you sure you aren't rushing this?"      "Probably."      "James, it'll be ok. I can stay here with you the whole time."      He reached up and took one of Lesleys hands, "Thanks Les. I just have no idea how they're going to take it."       They went back to silence, holding hands until it was time to wash the dye out, "Time. Get in the shower and I'll clean up."       Jem got up and looked at Lesley, "Why do I have a feeling you just want an excuse to be in the same room with me while I strip?"       "I need an excuse now?" Lesley asked, eyebrows raised, "Last time all I needed was you to be in the mood."       Jems shoulders dropped as he finished taking his shirt off. With a sigh he opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything. So he shook his head and finished taking his clothes off before climbing in the shower. Lesley finished cleaning with a grin of triumph on his face. Jem only took about 15 minutes to shower before grabbing a couple towels and climbing out. One towel was wrapped around his head like a turban and the other was hitched around his hips. Lesley looked at him and asked "Want me to blow dry it for you?"      Jem nodded, "Yeah, if it's ok."      He walked over to Jem, placed a hand over his eyes, and led him over to the chair, "Alright, no peeking, you're not going to see this until I'm done."      Jem nodded again, and sat still.       Lesley unwrapped Jems head like a present and smirked at his handiwork. He'd let his hair grow out for the past two years, so Jem had a bit of a mane that reached to his shoulders in loose waves. Lesley pulled the hair away from Jems face so he didn't see any of the colors. The drying and styling took another half hour of silence, mostly because the dryer made too much noise to talk. When he was done, he said "Ready to see?"      Jem nodded, and stood up to look in the mirror behind him. Silent still, Jem stared at himself. His hair was no longer blond, nor even the familiar black of his natural color. Instead he now sported a tie-dye style, in bi pride flag colors. He fought the urge to cry, but gave in, and covered his mouth with his hand. He looked great, and felt amazing. He ran a hand through his hair, making sure that it was real. He was shaking again, and turned to hug Lesley tightly.      Lesley hugged him back, and kissed the side of his head, "I'm glad you like it."      Jem pulled away to look at Lesley, "I love it. Thank you."      Smiling, Lesley kissed him quickly, "Any time."      Jems eyes stayed shut after the kiss. They hadn't had time alone together in weeks. Lesley was always busy in Ireland, and Jem was swamped with school. When they could make it to the tower their home was filled to bursting with life and noise. This was the first time they'd had quiet in so long... He opened his eyes halfway, and saw Lesley looking at him longingly.      In an instant Lesley had kissed Jem again. His hands flew to Jems hair, fingers tangling in the soft locks. Jems hands fluttered to Lesleys hips, playing with the hem of his shirt, weakly trying to pull it up. Lesley laughed and pulled away for just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and pull Jem back into the kiss and hold him closer. Jem started moving, leading Lesley to the door. One hand searched for the doorknob as Lesley pressed him against the door. There was no room between them, and Jem couldn't hold in a low moan as they moved together.      Lesley grinned, he adored the moment of eliciting the first moan from his partners. He stopped kissing Jems lips, and instead kissed down his jaw, pausing when he reached his ear. He took Jems hand and lead it to the doorknob while growling "Is that what you're looking for?" and then he started kissing Jems neck slowly and deliberately.      Jems brain was beginning to break and he gave up trying to open the door. His hands went to Lesleys hair, gently and firmly tugging for him to look at Jem again so he could kiss him again, and kiss him deeply. In one sudden movement, Jems feet had left the floor and his legs were wrapped around Lesleys waist. Lesley found the doorknob again, and pushed it open to stumble into Jems room. He carried Jem to the bed, and together they fell and disappeared between the curtains of the four-poster bed.      Before things could move forward, the bedroom door opened and Jems father walked in, reading something on his phone and saying "James, we need to talk about the ball."      As quickly as he could, Jem grabbed the covers and rolled both him and Lesley onto the floor on the other side of the bed. He was white as a sheet, and Lesley was frozen on the floor next to him, not daring to make a sound. Mr. Hadewych moved the curtain aside and only saw the top of Jems hair from the other side of the bed.      "James...What is God's name did you do to your hair?"      Jem looked up at him like a child who had been caught with his hand in the middle of a chocolate cake, "I-I-I dyed it."      "Why!?" He asked loudly, "Do you think you'll be able to escort anyone to the ball with your hair like...like THAT!?!?"      "I-I-I-"      "And what are you doing on the floor? You didn't pull that stunt in here did you? You're an adult you know better than to do something this...this stupid!" He walked around to the side of the bed they were on, Jem covered in nothing but his blanket.      Lesley had closed his eyes and was praying to any god willing to listen. Jem yelled "Don't come over here!" just as his father rounded the corner.      Derek Hadewych stopped in his tracks. He could see the scene on the floor without having to walk all the way around the bed, "James..." he began calmly, too calmly, "Is there something you would like to discuss?"      Jem looked straight ahead of him, face blank, and nodded.      Derek nodded too, "Both of you get dressed and meet me in the den. Lesley if you sneak out you will not be allowed back."      Lesley nodded, "Yes, sir."      Mr. Hadewych walked away, closing the door behind him. Jem and Lesley looked at each other. Jem was petrified, Lesley was apologetic. They got dressed in silence, Jem was so stressed it felt like a single sound would make him collapse like a ragdoll. Five minutes later they were walking downstairs. Before they walked into the den, Lesley did something he didn't with Jem often; he took his hand and held it tightly. Jem looked down at their hands and then back up to Lesley, tears of fear in his eyes. He set his mouth in a firm line and nodded a silent thanks as they turned to corner.      Derek looked up and put his phone away. He glanced at the clasped hands and up to his son, "Sit down before you faint."      Jem nodded, and led Lesley to the couch across from his dads chair. Lesley put himself between them protectively.      Derek sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Ok. I'm going to shut up. Tell me whatever you need to say."       Lesley looked at Jem, who was still pale. He swallowed and said "Dad...I..." his heart was beating out of his chest, eyes shining with fear, "I am bisexual...and in a relationship with both Carmensita and Lesley."      "How long have you known? How long have you been...holding this in?" Derek hadn't moved. They didn't even see his lips moving as he spoke.      "I...figured it out when I was 14, Lesley and I got together right before I turned 17."      Dereks eyes flickered up to glare at Lesley, his voice calm and threatening "You slept with my son when he was a minor?"      Lesley turned beet red, and his jaw dropped. Jem stepped in "No! Dad, we didn't do any of that until I was legal." He dropped his face into his hand and his hair fell to hide his face.      Derek nodded, "Alright. So why did you hide this?"      Jems head snapped up, "What?"      "It's been six years since you figured it out, right? Why did you hide it?"      Jem blinked several times, not understanding why his dad was so calm, "I... you... you aren't mad?"      Derek's face softened, as did his voice, "No, Jem, I'm not. When you were three you thought you would grow up to marry Li Shang from Mulan. You cried when your mother told you that you'd have to marry a girl. I was honestly surprised when you began dating Carmensita, and stunned when you stayed with her."      Jem had been turning redder and redder with each word. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish flopping on the ground.      Lesley was grinning and leaning forward, "Exactly what did he used to say about Shang?"      Jem playfully shoved Lesley, "Please don't tell him that."      "Why not?" Derek asked with a wink, "Now I have two people to embarrass you to." His phone buzzed violently in his lap. He looked down at it, "It's your mother. I'll handle her. Go stay with them tonight. And make sure that dragon of yours goes with you."      Jem froze, "My- my what!?"      "Your bonded. The red and gold one that's usually glued to you. Linh I think is what you've called him when you think I can't hear."      Both Jem and Lesley gaped at him, "How...?"      Derek looked at his son once again, eyes flashing red just as Jems did sometimes "It's a bloodline James, and I'm not stupid. Now go out of the room unless you want to hear your mother have a breakdown."

[presidium-pigeon-76]

shout out to my mother who, upon hearing that her (previously out as transmasc) child has been feeling gendahfluid lately, goes "oh cool. i can buy you ALL the clothes now"

[unknown-entity-tm]

My mom is a bit confused but she's got the spirit.

I mean she mostly struggled with gendering me right but I know she's doing her best and she's very supportive.

[culturesfinest]

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