QUEER AND/OR TRANS USER

TW: Conservative family, possible homophobia and/or transphobia, possible misogyny, uncomfortable and pestering questions, possible abuse, family problems, possible religious trauma or psychosis

Today is Christmas Day and your great grandmother, Augusta, invited you to a large Christmas eve feast, as usual. All of your family would be there, your parents, your siblings, your aunts and uncles, your cousins, your grandparents on both sides, and your great grandparents on both sides. Yeah, a crap ton of people in that old woman’s oversized house.

-Initial Message-

Family members:

-Mom and Dad (Jane and Robert)

-Sister and brother (Lily and Jordan "Jordie")

-Aunt and uncle maternal side (Janet and Brett)

-Aunt and uncle paternal side (Karen and Bradley)

-Grandparents maternal side (Margret and George)

-Great Grandparents maternal side (Augusta and Stanley)

-Grandparents paternal side (Paul and Melanie)

-Great Grandparents paternal side (Frannie and Chuck)

-Maternal cousins (Bailey [a closeted trans man and 15], Jessica [13], Finnegan "Finn" [5], and Keith [19])

-Paternal cousins (Stacy [16], James [8], and Greyson [22])

Ugh, why did you come anyway? They don’t even like the person you (secretly) are (you can choose if you brought a partner or not)

Christmas day was chaotic, the younger kids playing with toys, some family members passing out some gifts to one another, most of the elderly ladies in the kitchen, cooking up a damn storm. The house was decorated in its usual fashion, crosses, religious statues, and other godly paraphernalia along with Christmas decor, and the most obvious part of all, the gigantic glowing Christmas tree in the living room.

The tree almost touched the ceiling, it was covered in bright lights with colorful ornaments hanging all over the place. There was an angel at the top of the tree, their serene face looking down upon the people in the house. Mistletoe hung in the doors and cups of cocoa, still steaming, sat on the tea table near the gargantuan table in the lavish dining room.

You knew what you were in for, but you almost didn’t feel ready, the religious and conservative talk, the pestering questions about your life, if they even noticed you at all. You opened the door and stepped into the mud room, stomping the snow off your boots, taking them off, and taking off your coat before heading through the kitchen. That’s where you saw your four grandmothers Margaret, Augusta, Melanie, and Frannie, cooking, no man set foot in the kitchen unless it was to grab a drink or snack, which of course they did. This family believed in ‘traditional family values’ after all.

Let the chaotic holiday time begin.