here are some of my oc drabbles for one of my upcoming stories i love my angry gay children

*****

"Yeah, I know that, puta!" Parker yells, jabbing a ginger into the shorter teenager's chest.

"Did you just call me a bitch?" The other one, Tempest's, eye twitches, shaking their short brown hair.

"You speak Spanish?"

"I'm fucking, Cuban," Tempest says, but they're less angry now and more confused, "yes, I speak Spanish!"

Oh, yeah, that would explain a lot.

*****

It's late evening when Friday Hanson and Tempest Silva's loud talking is interrupted by the surly figure of an old woman, who Friday guessed is Tempest's grandma.

"¿Qué he dicho sobre hablar inglés en la casa?" The old lady chides, and Tempest sighs. Friday tilts their head in confusion.

"Grandma, are you serious?" They basically growl, and Friday inches back a littl, "Friday doesn't even know Spanish! I'm not only speaking Spanish in the house."

"Your Español es getting oxidado." She is whispering-yelling at them, and Friday knows how embarrassing it is to be yelled at by family relatives in front of friends. But honestly, she doesn't understand anything that's going on, so she stays quiet.

"Whatever." They roll their hazel eyes, looking anywhere but the woman in front of them.

"Don't whatever me, joven chico." The old woman chides, her wrinkly face tightening before she waddle soft to some other corner of the house.

"Did she just call you boy?" Friday says, confused. As far as she knew, all of Tempest's family was fine with them being nonbinary.

"Old lady brain. I don't dwell on it too much. I'm only 15, and she still thinks I should be married." Tempest sighed in exasperation, turning to their female friend, "I think the 'hey guess what, there's more then two genders' topic would make her combust."

*****

"Roll up your sleeves." Teuila says.

"I don't need to. I'm not hot." Parker tells his adoptive sister, but the determination in her eyes is telling him a different story.

"Park, don't lie to me." Something changes in her face as she looks down at her older brother's sleeves, "I can see your sweating."

"I'm not." He growls at the younger one, but he kind of feels like the kid brother in this situation, "Lay off me, Teuila."

"Roll up your sleeves, Park." It's not a question anymore. It's an order. He inches away from her.

"No." He hisses, and its venomous, drooping with anger, but Teuila doesn't even flinch, "I'm not hurting myself."

"Then show me your arms." She says, her voice unraveling. She's inching closer and closer towards him.

"I said no." He's backing himself into a corner, and he knows it, but the closer she gets, the more he can feel the walls closing in closing in closing in closing in closing in closing in closing in

And then in one swift move Parker didn't know the girl skinnier then a twig could manage, she grabs his left arm and twists it behind his back, rolling up his sleeve.

"What the hell?" She asks, slamming down the exposed light brown arm. In blue ink, 'Eggs, bacon, peas, bandages' is written on his forearm, "Is this a grocery list? You didn't— this is on your left arm. You're a leftie. Who wrote this?"

"I don't know!" Parker gasps, and he doesn't want to seem weak, but Teuila twisting his arm hurts a lot. Like, a fucking lot.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"What I just said!" Parker is about to burst. He's about to spill how for weeks random messages in hand writing he hasnt ever seen in his life keeps appearing on sorts of his body, usually reminders, but sometimes pictures, and he's so scared and he just wants to tell someone, and if it's anyone, Teuila, kind, sweet Teuila, would be it, but then—

"Do I have 'idiot' on my forehead, Park?" The younger one growls, his arm still in her grip. He can basically feel her eyes still scanning the grocery list.

"No, but you have a penis on your collarbone." He replies, not sure what to say.

"WHAT?!" And suddenly, just like that, it was like Parker has evaporated from the room as the angry Samoan girl was stomping into the kitchen to her boyfriend, "LOGAN TRENTTLE, I'M GOING TO SKIN YOU."

*****

"Fuck! Gay!" Charlie yelled at the girl in front of her.

"Excuse me?" Alicia asks, her brown eyes glinting dangerously.

Charlie isn't sure what to say. 'Fuck! Gay'! Really? She had spent days building up the courage to ask Alicia on a date and she comes up with 'Fuck! Gay!'?

Without a word, she dashed down the hallway, leaving Alicia alone.

Hours later, in the common room, Charlie is approached by the tall and wiry frame of Teuila, "Charlie, Alicia came to me and said some concerning things."

"What?" Charlie asks, confused. Teuila didn't usually sit down at talk to anyone. The common room was cluttered with all their other friends, so maybe this wasn't that serious of a conversation.

"Listen, I know everyone comes from different backgrounds and we're taught different things, and I accept that. I mean, up till a while ago, Tempest thought that stepping into a house without shoes would make the devil posses you." Teuila stops speaking for a bit, as if she's reviewing what she just said, "Actually, maybe they still do. I don't know. But, none of us in the group tolerate homophobia. I don't know how it was where you grew up..."

"You...You mean New York?"

"You grew up in New York?" Teuila asks, dumbstruck, and Charlie starts to raise an eyebrow.

"Are you saying Asians can't grow up in New Y—"

"Wait, that sounded racist!" The brown skinned girl revises her sentence, "Shit! I was just saying, Alicia told me you kind of yelled at her about being gay, and well, the only place gayer then New York is Miami and— I'm rambling. Sorry."

"I wasn't—" Charlie's face is rapidly turning red. She can feel the blush creeping up her neck. She doesn't like it. "I'm not homophobic."

"Charlie," Teuila says, a solemn facial expression on her, "I consider you my sister, but,"

Charlie doesn't hear a lot after that, because her mind is kind of just reviewing the line I consider you my sister. Because, Charlie has a sister. And while Charlie loves Teuila, she has never, ever, in her life thought of the skinny girl as a sister. A friend, yes. Maybe if she was feeling nice, a close friend. But a sister? Yeah, no.

"You can tell me anything." Teuila is saying, and Charlie feels like she must have missed a major part of Teuila's rant, because she's looking at her like she owes her something, "Being the only two straight people in the group, I think we—"

"I'm not straight." Charlie blurts our before she can stop it.

"What?"

"I'm a lesbian." Charlie said, and her words are unnecessarily slow and sturdy, like if she talks too fast, Teuila may explode.

"Oh." The girl says simply.

"Yeah."

"And you—" Teuila's face scrunched up in understanding, "you like Ali—"

"Yeah."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Teuila rubbed the temple of her forehead before standing up and pointing at the other kids scattered across the room, "Disasters. Every one of you." And then she walked out.

Charlie got up, sighing loudly. From their bed, she could see Friday pouting to the door. She nodded knowingly at him. She understood what he was saying. Or pointing.

She walks out the door, and there, is Alicia. Just standing. Of course she's just standing in the middle fothe hallway. That's such an Alicia thing to do.

"I'm sorry for what happened." Charlie starts, and she's scared Alicia will slap her in some dramatic telenovela fashion, and leave her gasping in the floor, "You know I have a hard time expressing my emotions."

"I didn't think you were— you know." Alicia says, and she brushes a dark, crinkled curl from her face, brown eyes cast down words, "Teuila was just worried."

"Yeah." Charlie isn't looking at Alicia, she's too nervous, "Sorry about that."

"And to answer you." Alicia says, and a smile is dancing on her lips, "Yeah, I'm super gay." She then walks down the hall, leaving Charlie to pick her jaw up off the floor all by herself.

*****

"FUCK!" Tempest Silva yells from the floor, having tripped over their own feet. Their hand is throbbing red.

"Tempest, language!" Comes the scolding voice of Friday, who is sprawled across the couch, almost half asleep.

"What?" Tempest asks, and their caramel face is red with anger, pointing to the blue haired boy next to them, "How come Park gets to swear and I don't? What kind of double standard is that?"

"It's called not being ten, Temp." Parker snickers with contempt, but the angry Cuban next to them is only getting angrier by the second. They stand up in all five feet of their freckly glory, towering over Parker, who's sitting in a chair. He looks smug as ever.

"I'm fifteen, you arsehole!" They yell, spit flying. Friday sighed, turning the page of their magazine. They knew they might eventually have to pull Tempest out of a fight, like always.

"Yeah, fifteen inches tall." Parker smirked back, looking like he had just confirmed he was winning the lottery. Tempest was basically radiating anger.

"Say goodbye to your kneecaps you fucking giraffe." They said, before kicking the boy in the shins.

*****

And Michael was staring at the boy from a couple days ago, his eyes clouded over and dreamy. Tempest noticed this immediately, and whispered slyly in his ear, "Aww, you like him, don't y—"

Like an alarm clock had rung, he immediately wakes up from his day dream, and turns away from the boy he was starting at, crossing his arms. "No. Shut up."

"My little brother has a cru—"

"Shut up." He says more forcibly, gritting his teeth, but blush is starting to creep up his neck.

"I'm going to be the best person at the wedding, right?" They start to rant, still smirking like no ever before and enjoying the look of blush on Tempest brothers embarrassed face, "Oh, can I be the flower girl? Flower human, I—"

"I'm leaving." Their younger brother mutters, before looking to the side

"Without the ring? You're a horrible husband!" They wail, and Michael turns a bright crimson red unlike anything before. He huffs, before getting up, and walking away.

The only response the freckled covered teen gets is a middle finger. They laugh.