#also i just remembered my parents used to horrendously make fun of my aunt(?) with down syndrome behind her back and they fucking recruited

[beaniebabs]

so anyway we were all bullied by our own (adult) family for showing ND traits right? obviously we were bullied in school bc 1. kids are cruel and 2. parents can teach their kids to be ableist but. yeah. it’s definitely something else when it’s grown ass adults mocking you for things they should know better than to mock a fuckin child for. plus they should have some semblance of knowledge of, y’know. mental illnesses and disorders and shit. do y’all have any stories?

#ig my parents were throwing away/recycling an old softball bat of mine? #and it brought back memories of stories they’d tell me #i was too young to remember stuff myself or just my brain forgot the rest of it #but my mom would always tell me about how “dramatic” i was when i did sports #like when i played tee ball in kindergarten(?) #i apparently would always complain about my uniform being itchy and uncomfortable #and at one point i took it off when i was in the little. room. where we kept the equipment and stuff #and that was a “funny story” when in hindsight i was 1. being a kid and 2. very clearly having sensory issues #also those times when i was having breakdowns/meltdowns #once. i remember this clearly by myself and also bc of being made fun of it for years #my mom recorded me sobbing and having a breakdown in the kitchen while she laughed and mocked and made fun of me behind the camera #and the other. i couldn’t fold towels perfectly and i had a breakdown in the bathroom and she brought it up for years as if it was a #character flaw on my end and not. mental illness/neurodivergence #yeah. that’s all i remember off the top of my head but i knwo for a fact there’s been more #why do grown ass adults feel the need to traumatize children? #also i just remembered my parents used to horrendously make fun of my aunt(?) with down syndrome behind her back and they fucking recruited #child-me to do it too and i’m. fucking ashamed of myself but god #yeah this is mostly just me remembering they’re horrible people i shouldn’t try to have relationships with anymore so thank god for that #but yeah (:

[joshstambourine]

GVF as Your Best Friend

"Hii can I request gvf as besties and dumb things that they would do with the reader, also can the pronouns for the reader be neutral 🥺" - @guitarfingers

Thank you so much for sending this in!! I really wanted to do it quick cause I just loved the idea so much!

Please please please, if anyone wants me to write something with neutral pronouns, please let me know (same with male pronouns). Sometimes I get on autopilot when I'm writing and start using female pronouns without thinking.

These fics are mostly written whenever I get five minutes to myself, so sometimes I get distracted as well but that doesn't make it right.

Warning: Cursing

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart @babydxll

Josh

Oh what a loud friend. What a noisy naughty friend. What a rotten rotten boy.

Lmao just kidding.

Though Josh is probably a lot of those things when it comes to being your friend. He already seems like a little gremlin who is surprisingly wise in general but as someone's best friend?? Oh man you're in for a time.

Your camera roll is just dumb pictures of you and Josh. Almost exclusively. Probably some you don't remember taking as well---

10/10 the "I double dare you to do the thing" type of friend.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it---"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! YOU DOUBLE DARED ME---"

"You're a terrible person (Y/N) how do you live with yourself?" //Gobblin snickering//

Has even less of a filter when he's with you, "oh fuck, you look like something the cat dragged in and then ate again and then--"

"What the--- Josh???"

Josh also has a foul mouth from what I gather so if you're going to be friends with him be ready for a lot of cursing.

Take it as a compliment! It means he's comfortable with you!

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Yes and your mom as well."

Despite all that. Josh I can imagine being a very protective friend.

Think the kind of person who gets mad when a person insults you and says, "Whoa, what the fuck, only I can say mean shit like that to them." 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine Josh..."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

Puts an arm around you, "Good.... it would have sucked to tell you they were right if you were upset."

Probably just //Demonic screeching// most of the time the two of you are together.

Other times a lot of philosophizing and asking important questions. Or questions he feels crucial to ask.

Probably because he's baked but---

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes Josh?"

"Why don't we call big Ants… Gi-ants?"

"I'm not talking to you anymore."

Josh also would be very keen to take an interest in things his bestie is interested in. Especially important things.

As an example: If they are religious he'd want to make sure he understands their beliefs. He wants them to know he respects these things.

Over all, he's a chaotic force to be reckoned with... but one that is going to carry you along with him. You're never going to have a dull moment and you're never going to feel alone.

And most importantly you'll know you're loved at all times.

Jake

Jake always strikes me as so relaxed, someone who likes to keep to himself.

Despite that I do also see he and Josh are twins and have some things in common.

He probably is just as much of a gremlin, though less loud and obnoxious about it.

"I just want to make sure... you picked out that outfit right? Not your mom?"

"Yes...?"

"Okay good, I don't want to offend your mom."

More than anything I picture him and you sitting quietly together just doing separate things in a comfortable silence half the time.

I mean that might seem lame but those are my personal favorite kind of friendships.

The ones where you can look up from whatever you were doing and just make a face at them...

... and since he's that kind of friend he'd raise his brows first, but then immediately make a corresponding face silently.

I feel like deep conversations are the thing the two of you would be best at. No shooting the shit. Always straight to the important stuff.

Drinking whiskey by a warm fire vibes.

If you have any interest in music, even slightly, Jake would be all over that. He'd want to expand that interest to make it a love.

"I'll teach you!"

"You're too busy you don't have time..."

"No way! You're my best friend, I'm not letting some random person teach you how to play guitar. Be serious (Y/N)."

I can picture Jake laying beside his friend on the floor just smoking and listening to his favorite records.

Also a really warm and sentimental friend I think. Now this might just be a me thing but it's something I could see him doing, not often just for really important things. Maybe saving little things?

Like a ticket from a concert he went to with his best friend. Or a receipt from a really nice hang out.

Probably a Polaroid boy because of that.

That might just be me. I really feel like he likes to have things to look back on.

"Oh wow you still have that??" You ask pointing to a concert ticket from years ago tucked into the side of his mirror.

"Of course I do! I loved being there with you!"

Jake treasures his time with his friends, and its important to keep his best friend safe always.

Sam

ANOTHER FORCE OF CHAOS.

But. Sam definitely seems like one who actively tries to be a chaotic force, whereas Josh has it come naturally.

So I imagine a lot of making super dumb videos together.

"Hang on before we start!! (Y/N) can you do up my braids??"

"Fuck yeah i can."

I would want to see cooking videos made by the both of you. They'd be hysterical I know it. Get on it please.

Lots of spontaneous dancing together.

"What are you guys even doing...?"

(Horrendous dance moves that are not in-synch intensifies)

Probably a lot of shopping trips together, not necessarily to shop. Just to be out together.

Probably also would fight over who pays for lunch because neither of you can just pay separately.

Is it bad that I sorta imagine him being a bit of a wine aunt friend??

Like--- you both are just at a table drinking a glass of wine and just complaining about everyone and gossiping non-stop.

I do think he'd want to have a movie night with his best friend. They take turns picking, but hardly ever watch the movie... too busy making comments over the movie and pointing out flaws in it.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL STANDING THERE!! GET IN THE HOUSE--- ladies in horror movies man---"

"You'd be the first one to die in a horror movie... im almost positive."

".....thanks for that (Y/N)."

All that said Sam strikes me as one of those people who take note of little things about people.

So you would always get super personal gifts from Sam. Something that is irreplaceable.

It also means that by the expression on your face at any given time he knows how you're feeling.

"...oh? (Y/N) are you okay...?"

"Huh??"

"You look upset, did something happen?"

"Ah... just an upsetting text that's all."

"You wanna vent, I'll get the wine?"

A friendship with Sam means excitement of course but also a strong personal connection you probably won't be able to replace in your entire life.

Danny

I think he's the kind of best friend that wants to chat with your parents.

You know that friend. We can all picture that friend we have. The one who your parents adore and make you pretty sure they wish this friend was actually their child instead of you?

Danny is that friend.

All the boys seem to really enjoy the outdoors but I do think Danny strikes me as one of the boys who seems to enjoy it the most.

I can picture him wanting to be outside with his best friend.

Hikes. A day trip to the beach. Golf.

"Cmon (Y/N)! Can't have ya falling behind!" He'd yell when too much space builds between the two of you on a hiking trail.

I'm sure all the boys would do this but, I do think Danny would be the type of friend to go out of his way to make your life easier.

Even if this means doing something drastic.

"Your parents won't be able to make it out for the holidays...? Let's drive out there together."

"What?? We cant---"

"I've already got it planned don't worry about it."

There's also always the added benefit of getting to take out your emotions on his drum kit whenever you need to as well... this is an open ended invitation.

Danny unfortunately seems like the kind of person that listens most of the time and probably doesn't get to be the one to complain himself.

So you would have to keep an eye on him and prod a lot to get him to open up.

Even then I think you'd have to get him drinking before he'd actively talk about his problems.

It's not that he doesn't trust you. He just doesn't want to burden you, especially if you have a lot happening.

The kind of friend that wants to bond with your pets (they probably listen to him better than they ever did for you).

Let's be honest he'd bring your pets gifts so much.

"Another bandana?? Danny where are you getting these---"

"It has to match the collar I got him."

"Jeez get your own pet man."

All in all. Danny is a gentle soul, so keep that in mind as his best friend. He will give his all, probably 150%... make sure you keep up your end.

Otherwise he will burn himself out.

All in all:

Look it's pretty easy just to assume that all the guys would be good friends.

They all are sweet guys.

They all seem like people who enjoy learning about new things and people's interests.

As a group---

There would be so much fun and merriment as you all explore nature.

Bonfires and music baby.

Camping invitations of course.

Probably lots of drinking games (if you drink).

"Haha--- (Y/N) has to drink kings Cup!"

"Fuck my life..."

"Sucks to suck buddy!"

Lots of music being played.

Long drives with the windows down.

Stupid jokes.

Dumb faces.

A good group of guys that will honestly accept you as you are.

And that will also make fun of you mercilessly.

All out of love of course~

//Hopefully you liked it! For those who noticed, yes I did post this early by accident, I went to save this and like... hit the save button. And then I opened up my feed and there it was so!!! I don't know what happened.//

[keanureevesisbae]

The Tran-Cavill Grandkids

Henry = 79 / Olivia = 70 / Vanessa = 47 / Elodie = 40 / Heather and Chloe are 36

Olivia: We have 8 grandchildren. It has been sixteen years since I first became a grandmother, but I still have to get used to it.

Henry: I love being a granddad. I love everything about it, especially when they all come over and we have seventeen people over.

Oliver (16)

Olivia: Oliver is Chloe’s and Joon Ki’s first son and our oldest grandson. Chloe was still in college and scared out of her mind when she found out she was pregnant. I stayed over in her dorm from her twenty fifth week of pregnancy to the thirtieth, since poor thing was suffering from a lot of panic attacks and because of their different schedules, Joon Ki and her friends couldn’t be there for her. I forgot how disgusting those dorms were. After that, she took online classes, because she was really fatigued and uncomfortable. She stayed at our place again up until the birth.

Henry: When Oliver was born, my life stopped for a moment. I was officially a granddad. I mean, I always knew I wanted to become a father, but a granddad… I never really thought that far into the future. But Oliver is such a wonderful young man. Takes his job as the oldest grandchild very seriously.

Olivia: He comes over a lot, since our house is on the route when he goes home after school. He helps us with some chores or just comes over to drink some tea with us. Oliver even offers to do groceries for us every Saturday.

Dylan (14)

Henry: Dylan is Vanessa’s and Trey’s first son. We were delighted that we were going to be grandparents of two boys. However, it was pretty hard for Vanessa and that absolutely broke my heart. My poor girl was in a lot of pain and discomfort and there was nothing I could do about it.

Olivia: Vanessa became dehydrated pretty early on in her pregnancy, forcing her to quit her job. I actually quit my job too, because I realized that I needed to be there for her. 

Henry: Finally, after all those years of her saying that just because I am rich, doesn’t mean she should stop working. 

Olivia: Anyways, my poor baby was really out of it and I moved in with her and Trey for a while, because they obviously needed to prepare a lot for the arrival of their little boy. So Henry and Trey decorated the entire nursery, while Vanessa and I tried to come up with a birth plan, me telling her about the whole giving birth thing and how scary it can be. We even went to a few therapy sessions, simply to put her mind at ease.

Henry: However, Dylan was born ten weeks too early and it was a trying time for all of us. We spend so much time in the NICU. Thankfully the entire family stepped in to help Vanessa and Trey out. Dylan was a pretty weak baby, also really tiny and had troubles eating. Though he was sick and tired pretty often, he grew out to be such an amazing kid, who understands the limits he has and despite that, still manages to participate in certain sports. We are so proud of him. 

Megan (9)

Olivia: It took five years before Vanessa got pregnant again and thankfully this pregnancy was easier on her. We were so excited when we found out she was pregnant with a little girl! Our first granddaughter. Megan is such a bright young lady. When she was four, she saw a picture of Henry having a tea parties with her aunts when they were around her age. The next time she came over, she brought a dress and her cups and saucers and forced Henry to partake. 

Henry: I thought those days were over, but I’m a push over and I couldn’t say no to her. Megan is such a happy go lucky kid, with the most infectious giggle. I remember when she was a baby, she started to giggle and didn’t stop. Nowadays, she can just stare at you, before bursting out in a fit of giggles. She also forces me to dance with her, but thankfully every Tran-Cavill girl tells her that it’s for the best that I don’t dance.

Jake (8)

Henry: Jake is Chloe’s second second and that is one special kid. He was already dancing in the womb, according to the sonographer. I think he was only two months when I was playing some music in the background and Jake was in his seat. He started to move his arms right on the beat!

Olivia: He is now going to dance classes and I have to say: that kid knows how dance. He can appear to be a bit more introverted, isn’t really in your face when they come over to visit. All in all, he is a pretty timid kid, but the second he hears music or is on a stage, he dances his heart out. So amazingly talented! When he visits, he always gives us little previews of the dances he taught in class. 

Kiki (4)

Henry: Heather was never the type of woman that dated. She was always more focused on her own career. It did shock me when she told us that she got pregnant and that she had to tell her boyfriend about it, since we all had no clue that she was even dating someone. Not even her own twin sister knew! 

Olivia: What a fucking doorknob that guy was. Heather wanted me to join her, when she would tell this Tom dude she was pregnant. Turns out she really is a daughter of mine, because she found herself a man that is the spitting image of Wesley, appearance wise and personality wise. He got so mad when she told him and even had the audacity to tell Heather that she got knocked up by someone else. He really wasn’t hiding the fact that he was an idiot, because he told my sweet Heather all that, when I was right next to her! Long story short, I broke them up, slapped Tom in the face and threatened to kill him if he ever sought out to her or the baby.

Henry: That’s my girl.

Olivia: But Heather is a real trooper and manages to take care of Kiki just fine. Thankfully we love her dearly and didn’t kick her out, because she got pregnant out of wedlock (like my parents and brothers did). We are the go to baby sitter for Kiki and it’s so much fun to pick her up from school. It reminds me of the times that we would pick up our own girls from school.

Henry: Kiki is such a happy go lucky little girl. She is a ray of sunshine and we are so lucky and grateful that she is in our lives and that that idiot Tom is not. I fear the day that I run into him, because I will throw him in front of a bus. Accidentally of course.

Olivia: Henry, honey, remember: you’re nearing the ripe age of eighty. What if you break a hip or your wrist?

Lewis (14)

Olivia: So, Katie, Elodie’s wife, used to teach English in Secondary school, but after she lost her job, since her school had to close, she became a substitute for three months at another school. That’s where she met nine year old Lewis. According to her, he was a shy kid, but every day after school, he’d linger around the classroom and talked to Katie. He would help her out with cleaning up, make his homework and often they would walk out of the school together.

Henry: Unfortunately she had to leave after three months and according to her, it was pretty hard leaving Lewis. Two weeks after she left the school, she got a call in the middle of the night. The principal of that school informed her that Lewis was removed from his home by the police. The neighbors called it in, since they heard the abuse going on. Later on, it turned out that Lewis was the victim of abuse on a daily basis. He lingered in Katie’s class room to postpone the moment of going home to his father. He was in desperate need of someone who would take him into emergency foster care.

Olivia: However the only person he wanted to stay with, was Katie, so she and Elodie took him in. It was supposed to be for a week, but a week turned into a month and after a nasty trial, they officially adopted Lewis on his tenth birthday!

Henry: I remember him coming over for the first time. Maybe it was a bit mean to let him meet everyone at once, but despite his nerves, he managed quite well. Now we know Lewis as such a hardworking young man, who desperately tries to help others and makes sure that they can reach their full potential.  

Stella (8)

Olivia: Elodie and Katie got into foster care a whole lot more seriously after they adopted Lewis and three years ago, they had to foster Stella, who had lost both of her parents in a tragic accident and there wasn’t anyone that could care for her. I remember Elodie and Katie having a bit of trouble with Stella, because she would lock herself up in her room and not talk to anyone.

Henry: It was hard, but Lewis swooped right in and the two of them had such long conversations. I think it was because of him that Stella opened up to her moms, but also to the rest of the family. She and Lewis are definitely partners in crime. She is quite something. Very mischievous and sneaky. She loves to scare people, hiding behind doors, but she doesn’t do it to us (thankfully), because she is afraid will scare ourselves a heart attack. So considerate. 

Olivia: In a lot of ways she reminds me of Vanessa. She is very eloquent and uses fancy words to throw you off guard. I love taking her out with me, because, just like Vanessa, she “whispers" something to you (most likely she’s gossiping), but the people she is talking about, can always hear it. I know I shouldn’t condone this, but I love the faces of the people when they hear Stella say: ‘Grandma, why is that woman wearing those shoes? The straps are too tight. She looks like a ham.’

Henry: You allow that? You should discipline her.

Olivia: I have been raising kids since I was twenty three and I always made sure to discipline them. Now that I’m a grandma, I can let it slide for a few times.

Charlotte (2)

Henry: And last but not least, little Charlotte. They fostered her since she was a year and officially adopted her six months ago. We don’t know exactly what happened to her, since she was abandoned at around nine months. No one actually knows what her exact age is, let alone her birthday. 

Olivia: It’s such a shame that something this horrendous could happen to such a precious little bean. She is, despite the things that happened to her, a lovely young girl, who kind of reminds me a lot of Elodie. A bit shy, a bit quiet and not a smiler.

Henry: Definitely not a smiler to strangers at all, but when she does… She’s so precious. Lewis and Stella are really good with her as well. These two were made to be older siblings. I can’t wait to see what kind of girl Charlotte becomes!

◎◎◎

Olivia: We are so blessed with our beautiful grandchildren and it’s my goal to become at least a hundred years old, so I can see every single one of them at least graduate!

Henry: And I want to hold my great-grandchild, so yeah, I agree, my love. We should become at least a hundred years old.

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @flhorah​ // @sausagefest1996​ // @laufeysodinson​ // @xxxkatxo​ // @memoriesat30​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @crimsonrae​ // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed​ // @summersong69​ // @lyrafraiser​ // @peakygroupie​ // @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ // @mary-ann84​ // @thereisa8ella​ //@crazyandanonymous4u // @xuxszx​ // @emmaofgreengabbles​ // @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​ // @onlyhenrys // @omgkatinka​ // @oddsnendsfanfics​ // @speakerforthedead0 // @agniavateira // @gearhead66 // @chamomilebottom // @diegos-butt // @yoyoanaria // 

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #Olivia Tran-Cavill #henry cavill x Olivia Tran #mister cavill your dog is kinda fat

[llendrinall]

Omg if an adult Draco woke up in 5 year old Draco's body and he wanted to make his father's life a living hell. Id read that, please please tell us the stuff he'd get up to. (as well as the stuff you would get up to at school, please)

It would be a nightmare for all involved. Draco, who had fought so much, suffered so much in order to atone not only for his mistakes but those of his family… and he finds himself back! All progress lost! He had broken his back, literally (it was a really dumb idea and Harry was very angry with him) to get Granger to warm up to him. Longbottom had forgiven him! (And Draco doesn’t even know what exactly he did to merit that). Harry had…

Harry had kissed him the weekend before.

And now he is back in his five-year-old body. Not even eleven, when he could see Harry and make a difference. No, he is five, and Draco cries and rages so much that he develops a fever and is incoherent for a week.

Afterwards… Well, you know how parents pride themselves in their children’s achievements? How parents want their children to be better than them? Lucius has found there is a limit to it. Having his son be more eloquent and advanced than any other child his age is great. Having his five-year-old son tell him with impeccable grammar that he, Lucius, will bring the ruin of their house is not great at all. Draco looks at him with a cherubic face and eyes that are burning grey, accusing him of crimes that even Narcissa doesn’t know about. Crimes that Lucius had barely begun to plan.

It is terrifying.

It is well known that what muggles call “demonic possessions” are nothing more than a wizard having a little too much fun with an imperius. But when Draco grabs Lucius’ wand, goes down to their hidden vault and, and, and opens it! He- he just casts the spell! Draco is five and he is doing magic that many adults struggle with! Oh, then Lucius wants to believe there might be something else.

(Out of all the forbidden things in their vault Draco went straight to the diary the Dark Lord had entrusted Lucius. Straight to it. And he destroyed it that very same night.)

“You failed.” Draco says, hot and angry. He is so pale and soft and full of fire. “You failed at everything and I had to take your place. I was given an impossible task as punishment to you, threatened not only with my death but the whole family, because of you!”

“Tenses, darling.” Says Narcissa softly. Narcissa is blind to the monster they have in the house. She doesn’t see it. She is convinced that there is nothing wrong with Draco, that he is just a very powerful seer who is a bit confused with timelines and verb tenses.

Draco is not a seer. Lucius is sure of that because if he were, then he would know that Lucius is thinking of… cleaning up the line. Narcissa is still young and she can give him another son or Lucius can remarry.

He is not a seer, but one day over breakfast Draco looks up and says “It won’t work. Whatever you are plotting, it won’t work. I can’t recall a single plan of yours that worked longer than a month. Kicking Dumbledore from Hogwarts, bribing the Ministry, bringing back the Dark Lord. It never works.”

So Lucius packs up his things and leaves the country quietly.

Narcissa is… shocked, which means she is furious, betrayed, and briefly terrified that she might lose her income and secure position. But once she is reassured that she still holds the house and the fortune she takes a big breath, internally swears that next time she comes across Lucius she will castrate hex him, and steps up into the role of Lady of the House.

She also listens to Draco. She insists that what Draco says has happened is yet to come, but she listens.

Draco wants to get Harry at once, but it is not so easy to find a seemingly normal muggle family in the sea of actually normal muggle families living an hour away from London. In the meantime, Narcissa visits Flourish and Blotts every day for a week until she finally gets there at the same time than the Weasleys. Then it’s a question of dropping a handkerchief and waiting for the bespectacled Weasley to fetch it for her and then, well, he is so eloquent and polite that Narcissa insists on buying young, Percival, was it? She shall buy him a quill. Any quill he wants. Don’t look at the price and just pick whatever quill you like best, young man. You must have a proper quill to write your letters.  

Molly Weasley would rather drag herself through shards of glass than accept a gift from a Malfoy; but one look at Percy tells her that if she takes this from him, if she takes his once chance of having something New and Fancy and Just For Him, he will hate her forever. So Molly relents (as Narcissa knew she would because mothers are predictable). Two weeks later Draco has a play date with Ronald.

“I think you should play Quidditch, Draco, dear.” She says, because horrendous as Lucius’ attitude was, she does recognize that Draco can be a bit off-putting. There isn’t that much talking with Quidditch and Draco is clever enough to let the young Weasley win two out of three times.

It takes thirteen months to find Harry and by then Narcissa has got a foot in both the Weasley’s and Longbottom’s houses. The latter was an excruciating effort and is still a very much work in progress. Narcissa had to let that bulldog of Augusta Lonbottom seer her crying and even now they are one wrong word away of losing all progress, but the children are talking and that was the goal.

She is weighting the pros of buying a house near the Dursleys and just moving there versus the advantage of frequently inviting the Weasley kids to the manor, when she sees the anxious look in her son’s face, a look of urgency and desperation and…

“Draco,” she cries, softly and sadly. Beautiful Draco, six years and two months and with a face like a silver coin. “Draco, dear, do you love this boy? I don’t mean like you love Mummy. Do you…”

“I know what you mean, Mother.” Draco says, serious, he is always so serious. She supposes he has to be to contain the fire burning inside. “I am not a child, I have told you. And I love him with all my heart.”

Oh.

“Then, you shouldn’t meet so soon.” Narcissa says firmly, although inside her heart is aching and she doesn’t know why. “Children who grow together tend to see each other as siblings. Why, your Great Aunt Marthia grew up with Gaius Mulciber, her fiancée, and their marriage was very difficult. I think he tried to poison her in order to marry his lover, or the other way around. I can’t remember. In any case, it is better to wait.”

But Draco doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want Harry to spend a single day more than necessary in that house where he was miserable and unloved. Whatever it takes, he says. Whatever it takes, even if the price is not loving Draco. Let’s rescue him now.

Narcissa explains that waiting would be much better. There are other things they have to keep in mind, like the return of the Dark Lord and the fact that Harry is linked to him. It can’t be that bad, the muggle house. Just bad enough that Harry will jump easily and eagerly to the wizarding world once it’s presented to him, so he will be all the more willing to sacrifice his…

“oh”, Narcissa says, very softly, not even an exclamation mark or a capital.

“oh”, she repeats.

Internally, she thinks “that bastard”. Dumbledore, of course. It is well known that Dumbledore wants Voldemort’s destruction at whatever cost.

“Draco you have to get yourself invited to the Longbottom’s house.” Narcissa says. Something in her tone finally cuts Draco’s unending cries that they have to get Harry, he will do it himself even if he is just one meter and ten centimeters tall.

Draco is a charming b-. Draco is charming, boy, child or adult trapped in a kid’s body. He gets an invitation and a layout of the Longbottom’s house. Narcissa then dons a pair of sensible country boots that she doesn’t mind getting dirty with mud and barely sleeps for the next ten days. Her skin suffers from it greatly, mind you.

By day three she has successfully stolen the rat Scabbers from the Burrow. She was going to switch it with a real pet rat, but it escapes and she can’t go chasing it. Then she begins a ten-days terror program on the Longbottoms. Footprints on the flowerbeds, upsetting the warding charms on the doors, definite signs of tampering in the chimney… Augusta Longbototm is many things, but she is certainly not a fool and by day four she is at the Ministry demanding help form the Auror office. It takes five freaking days for them to send a couple or aurors down. Narcissa is incensed on her behalf.

She waits until Dumbledore sends Moody down to the house. Moody casts extra protection charms and lays some traps and that night Narcissa pushes a stunned Pettigrew into what seems the nastiest of all of the traps. The one Dumbledore told Moody not to use but he still prepared the moment he left. In goes Pettigrew, stunned and wounded because Narcissa is under a lot of stress and she might have tortured him a bit.

Narcissa and Draco are there to greet Sirius, their BELOVED cousin (all capitals so no one dares says otherwise) when he is released from Azkaban. She has him shaved, washed and all set in a nice London house before Dumbledore can even begin to say “unfit for taking care of an underage boy”. At six years and four months Harry leaves the Dursleys and moves with his godfather.  

 And then it’s all nice for a while until Pettigrew escapes Azkaban, meets Lucius in the continent and together bring Voldemort back. There is a war. People grow more and more afraid of Draco and he has more attempts on his life than Harry ever had. Narcissa kills Bellatrix and doesn’t even think about it.

And, one day, a young handsome gentleman with shiny black hair arrives accompanied by a sullen lanky young man with streaks of pink in his hair. Draco labels the lanky young man as the ugliest adult he has even seen. The handsome young gentleman introduces himself as Harry Potter and asks if perhaps Draco remembers him?

The burning fire inside Draco disappears. There is only hot air and ash.

The ugly lanky young man is adult Draco, of course, governed by an eight-year-old who has completely destroyed his hair.  Harry, his Harry, is just amused at Draco’s indignation that they allowed this to happen. Apparently Child Draco was a handful to deal with.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” handsome gentleman Harry says, and he is so warm and beautiful that Draco wants to cry. He doesn’t even care about how ugly is adult body is because once he is back in it Harry grabs his hands and doesn’t let go until they are back home.

#asks #harry potter #time travelling #Anonymous #verse: deaged #textpost

[laurenzimmer-blog]

Colds and Cupcakes and Everything In-Between

I’ve noticed lately that I am very happy to be alive. This could be because I’ve had seven colds this year.

My doctor has reassured me over multiple visits to her office that I am fairly healthy. I have also been told I can get sick multiple times throughout one year and that I don’t need an IV of Airbourne hooked up to me constantly. And yet, her kindness and accuracy has not stopped me from googling my symptoms and literally drinking elixirs with oregano oil in them. I never learn.

Being sick this year, though, has made me think of death quite often. I don’t think of that negatively, I promise. I am, however, more curious why there is no registry for funerals. I understand people are “dead” and cannot haunt their wishes through a Target ad. I am also aware people have trusts and wills, but all joking aside, I would like something special for my funeral. I think I’d like to force everyone to dance to ABBA and for my ashes to be spread off the coast of California. Again, I do not hope to die any time soon. But as I’ve battle several viruses this year I’ve had these thoughts, especially when I binge watch TV shows I told myself I’d never re-watch. Regardless, yes, I am very happy to be alive.

I’ve noticed I’m getting older. I look seventeen, but cannot seem to sleep past 7 A.M. I am not a morning person, and will never be a morning person, but I wake up at 7 A.M. on the weekends. This is usually followed by my internal debate to drink coffee, even though it will kill my stomach. I am then reminded my stomach sensitivity issues are a sign of me aging. I’m not sure if my latest development of waking up at 7 A.M. is a sign to enjoy my youth. It’s probably a reminder that sleep is an essential part of health, and that I am exhausted from having a full time job, but it’s nice to think in metaphors.

Adulthood has been interesting. Twenty was filled with joy and innocence. Twenty-one was filled with debates and anxiety. Twenty-two was filled with depression and finally a sense of hope. And twenty-three was filled with resilience and some laziness, to be quite honest. I am now twenty-four. There have been many debates with my friends if twenty-four is part of the “mid-twenties” range. I am still unsure if it is, but it sounds different. It sounds less perky than twenty-one, but still far away from thirty. There’s a certain mature quality to the number, I think. I am not 100% established in my career, nor life, but I’d argue I have at least lived some. I hate saying this because it makes me sound like I understand life completely, and that only my problems are grand, but I have lived some. I do feel older. And for the first time in a few years, I am extremely grateful to be alive. And really, that’s all I could ever want.

Growing up will always be messy. That’s the simplest way to put it. This concept is what philosophers have debated for centuries. I am not telling anyone anything new here. Some will argue it is fate that makes life messy and others will argue it is by choice. Some will say it is because God has given him or her a path. And some will say it is because of his or her zodiac sign, especially exhibited here in Los Angeles on Sunset Boulevard. I am unsure, personally, why “life is messy,” but I do know it is. But I also know that I can easily get distracted by the mess instead of focusing on the small glimpses of, well, joy.

Nothing is ever satisfying, but it does not mean I cannot enjoy glimpses of satisfaction. It sounds stupid, I know. It’s a broad sentence, similar to comparing life to infinities, and how certain infinities are better than others. I won’t dive into it too much. But I think life is full of unsatisfying events and it is extremely difficult to admit life is satisfying all the time. I think it’s good to have goals and to achieve goals. I still do. But more than ever I am learning that my main goals may not be the most satisfying parts of life. What I’m trying to say beneath all  the (my) bull shit is that one goal is not going to make me happy and cause me to reach enlightenment, as though I have become a gypsy goddess who is probably high on Venice Beach. And I am learning to accept this throughout each goal I create for myself. I know this is where I should quote “it’s not about the journey, it’s about the destination” like some horrendous wooden sign in the bathroom of your aunt’s house that she got on sale at TJ Maxx. Yet, there is some heart behind the common phrase.

People love telling me what to do and maybe they are right. I am no help in this as I ask people to constantly debate my problems with me. However, since noticing I can easily think I am dissatisfied with most things, and take the opportunities I’ve been lucky enough to have, I don’t feel as worried anymore. I still worry often (I haven’t changed that much), but I really don’t worry as much. Granted, I am extremely fortunate even though my life has not turned out the way I expected. Again, I am falling into the trap of wondering if I am even satisfied with this fact, but I think I am. Well, I’m mostly satisfied. And that makes me happy.

It’s never wise to compare your behind the scenes to someone’s greatest hits. I know. 1. It sounds obvious and 2. I do this all the time as I scroll on Instagram, wondering if my impending arthritis will cause me to stop comparing myself to others. Maybe one day it will, and I don’t think I’ll ever truly stop, but it’s a nice reminder to know I have my own behind the scenes. It’s also nice to remember that someone has his or her own behind the scenes and that we don’t know exactly what our greatest hits will be. That is the most satisfying part of life, even if it might not have brought us the satisfaction we intended on seeing.

This year for my birthday I went roller skating. When I got to the roller rink in the depths of Glendale I waited in line. I saw a 90s themed birthday party filled with teens that dressed more like kids from the 90s than actual kids from the 90s, parents regretting taking their kids to a neighborhood roller rink, and children with sparkly, customized pink roller skates. After paying my fifteen dollars in cash I walked in, both impressed and confused that they were playing a Cher ABBA cover. I did not expect much. I just wanted to skate because I’m frankly good at skating and think it’s fun.

I put on my skates and was quickly greeted by boxes of cupcakes. And then I was greeted by hugs from ex frat bros. And then I was greeted by people from Texas I had not seen in months. We skated and drank after, as one does, at a brewery near train tracks. And by the time it was over, I walked back to my friend’s car, slightly tipsy, holding my two boxes of cupcakes. It was not the life I thought I’d have two years ago, nor am I doing what I originally thought I’d be doing. But I realized in that moment that perhaps I was almost completely satisfied. And it felt good.

In the car, I rested my head on the passenger window, listening to the latest Dirty Projector album. I held onto my cupcakes, debating if I should eat the funfetti one. I thought about the times I wanted to be a teacher, dancer, and zoologist. I thought about the times I was going to live in London or Washington D.C. I thought about the times I could have followed up with Michael Jackson’s old publicist after I ran into him at a random Halloween party two years ago or worked at an agency straight out of college. But there I was: a fresh twenty-four-year-old that still hated IPAs. But after all the thoughts I remember saying to my friend, “It doesn’t really matter because I feel loved.” It’s a vomit inducing statement, but one I feel proud of saying. One that tells me I’ve grown and that I think I am becoming the adult I want to be. An adult, behind all her anxiety, that is learning the small glimpses of satisfaction are a result of simply being happy to be alive, and perhaps, the result of revisiting roller skating after thirteen years. Maybe for once I am finally doing something right.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 58

My grandma Betty died. I was sitting in my bedroom upstairs one evening, when I heard the phone ring. There was a vent in my room so I could always hear a little bit of what was going on downstairs. I heard my father gasp, and then he seemed to be sobbing. The conversation was brief, and I already knew what it had to be. I couldn't help feeling badly for the guy. Despite the fact that he really was a terrible person to me in some respects, he lost a lot in a year's time. First, Patti – his then recently separated ex girlfriend had killed herself, and then his mother died. I think in a lot of ways my grandma kept my father emotionally grounded, and with her gone from the world, I believe my father felt very much alone – ungrounded.

I am thankful that her death was not a terribly slow or painful one. She had just begun exhibiting the signs of having cancer. She had chainsmoked her entire life since she was twenty-two. She also had a bad heart. Had she not suffered a stroke that killed her instantaneously, she might very well have suffered for a few years in a slow battle with cancer. I guess her and Gayle had gone out to eat at a Chinese restaurant that evening – their favorite, and they ate to their heart's content. Afterwards, they had gone to the movies, a sentimental corny movie most likely, where a lost young person finds their purpose in life by rescuing an animal that shows them how to be a better person and care again. The kind of movie my grandma always bought me for Christmas. She came home, listened to her favorite Celine Dion Titanic theme song, washed up, and began watching public television till she dozed off. At some point in the night while she was asleep she had the stroke, and she died almost immediately. I know this probably sounds awful for me to say, but I mean it with a sincere sense of compassion – it could have been so much worse.

The next week we traveled down to Ontario Oregon to connect with the family. It would be the last time I ever saw the extended family on my father's side. It was also at this very same time, that there was another family ordeal. Basically, my uncle Bob got caught in a sting operation for buying child pornography. I guess I failed to mention that this had happened sometime around Christmas. Looking back, I am so terribly glad I didn't end up living with him and my aunt Marty. Who knows what could have happened to me, and I remember distinctly feeling weird about my uncle, even though he technically never did anything inappropriate. He was the professional of the family, and I felt that we were supposed to look up to him – so hearing about what he was guilty of was a surprise – though I was told he was getting put in prison for tax evasion at first – not for buying pedophilia. The double secret life he was living was horrendous and disgusting and I believe I felt it off of him in very subtle ways when I had been down there to visit about a year and a half before he thankfully was caught. This little matter of feeling a strange energy off of him gave me insight that I should trust my instincts about people – particularly predatory men – but anyone. He ended up getting six years in prison – becoming an extremely talented artist – he could of course never go back into the field of education – and he is not allowed on the internet. He eventually remarried. My father keeps in touch with him, but most of the family has emotionally disconnected with him. I personally don't feel all that compelled to talk to him or visit, for very obvious reasons. You can't look at child pornography and not see clear as day the devastating reality of it all. It's staring you straight in the face. If you view that stuff to get off, you are sick.

Some of the family felt that my grandma finding out that her son had been arrested and was a sex offender was what broke her. I personally think it was just a life of smoking and eating 50's canned goods and watching soap operas. My adult cousins were down there. My aunt Gayle was a wreck. My uncle Steve and half uncle Adam were there, as well as my aunt Sylvia. We had rented a hotel. There wasn't going to be a funeral, as my grandma felt they were phony and gaudy. We all at one point went into my grandmother's apartment one last time. I thought a lot about the kindness she had shown me as a child. In a lot of ways, my grandma was a much softer person than both my parents, who were/are both far more chaotic, brutal, funnier, abusive and contradictory in nature. My grandma Betty was no survivor – she lived in fear – which is why she never learned how to drive. I remembered watching Bob Ross with her, and holding her hand and pushing on her protruding veins in her hands and wrists for fun. Even though the stuff she sent me for holidays was kind of awful – bad Christmas themed pajamas and such, she always remembered. She remembered every single person's birthday. She bought literally everyone Valentine's Day stuff, Easter, 4th of July, Halloween, and Christmas boxes – no matter how many family members she had to send them off to.

I looked for, and found this cat that always hung off the side of the couch. It was where she often kept her smokes, her TV guide, reading glasses and such. Nobody wanted them. Nobody wanted the cat things used to prevent cat toys from rolling underneath the refrigerator, so I took that too. And since nobody wanted them, I was given her entire Stephen King collection – about thirty or forty hardbacks that I took with me back to the hotel and began reading. We went out to eat somewhere – a buffet. My aunt Gayle was totally a mess. I felt kind of mean – and perhaps I was mean, but I couldn't help wondering what she had expected. Losing a parent is devastating – but there was some part of her behavior that was sensationalized and attention seeking. She was sincerely upset and lost without her mother, and I think even the attention seeking was a sign or that devastation. She obviously needed to be comforted, and I would never suggest that a person stew I their misery. But she seemed to revert back to being a child. A very loud child who wildly looked around the room for attention. She began sobbing and crying very loud in the restaurant for instance because she saw a fork – and I guess that forks now reminded  her of my grandmother's death – which seemed very put on to me. Other family members were silent for the most part. My father was seeming to hold it together okay. In a way, I almost think my father's resilience is his undoing. He can't really break when he needs to – survival simply won't allow it, and it almost seems to make him a bit crazy.

Watching all these people cope with the death of our beloved mother/grandma Betty, I worried about what it would be like when my beloved family members in the future would begin dropping off someday. It really hadn't occurred to me before – not that I wasn't aware of death. But now it seemed like a very practical reality and less of a concept. I decided to prepare myself for that day – so that I didn't react like aunt Gayle, and felt safe to consider everyone half dead already. Most of the human beings who had ever existed were already dead anyway. I know that sounds morbid, but if you remind yourself daily that the people around you are conscious meat sacks that can be squished, or malfunction at any given time, you not only prepare yourself for the day coming when it happens, but you are also appreciating the time you have with those people and how you treat them – since their mortality becomes more real to you. We have to get the most out of our connections with the people in our lives. What 'the most' is can be very subjective, but whatever is there to be gained from one another, it's an intrinsic part or our life's purpose to get it and to fully appreciate the mystery of knowing one another in the limited time and circumstances that we have.

On the way back from my Ontario, perhaps as a sign that I was very capable of being an insensitive teenager, I listened to The White Stripes very loudly in the car. Eventually my father had to tell me he couldn't emotionally take it right now, and he turned it down. I felt like a complete jerk. He had just lost his mother, and I was already just enjoying music and whathaveyou. When we got back home, we never really ended up visiting again. My father basically cut contact with Gayle. I don't know why. It didn't seem kind to me. Sure, they were never close. She could be annoying, but cutting ties with her kind of freaked me out. She hadn't done anything wrong. What's more, he still talked to our uncle Bob. He didn't talk to him for about four years granted, but he talks to him now – I don't care, except why has he decided never to speak to Gayle. I am really unclear about why that is. I have at times felt compelled to personally reach out to them, only I have been given the very strong impression over the years that they have little to no interest in who I am now that I am an adult – and the same goes for my siblings. There was always this weird sense with me that – since my mother was somehow a very obvious flawed human being that somehow she tainted the bloodline on my father's side and therefore we are of less quality.

On the last day of school, we took a trip to a strange special little exclusive resort called Boyer Beach. It was difficult to get to, and wasn't particular fancy – just a beach with some trees and buildings that weren't open for another month, since it was several miles up the Clearwater River. There was only one strange road to get to it, as there wasn't a road on that side of the river, you had to go several miles around to get to the one road that came back down. I remember sitting on the bus as it drove us down the small windy downhill path, and I began studying my feelings in a way I hadn't thought to. I felt depressed – but I chose not to blame anyone. It's instinctual when you feel pain that won't go away to want to blame someone. I recognized that I was feeling the urge to be angry at Sarah, but rather than say anything or let myself react emotionally – I just sat there and reflected on it. It felt counter intuitive, but I just did it anyway. And the more I reflected on it, the more I realized that I wasn't even angry – not really. I felt abandoned – and there might have been some reasonable justification for that – but I also understood that there was very little I could do about it. All those times I had become lathered up and convinced I was angry, I had actually just been sad. Feeling angry had made me feel like I was in control of my life and of the world around me. It made me feel justified. Really I was just a lost person. I felt disappointed and powerless – which made a lot more sense. There was nothing I could now do about the way my life was going. And as I realized this, the rage seemed to disintegrate. I felt like crying – there was a lump in my throat the entire day, but the blind anger was gone. I was calm the entire time, and Sarah and I managed to make naked people out of sand on the beach and have a good day.

Sarah and I ended up getting invited to Samantha's house that early summer soon after, which ended up being a strange night. Samantha's brother – the one who used to prank call me was there. I think Adam, Sam's boyfriend was there as well. We watched a really dumb movie called The Boy Next Door. And then everyone went out to the living room to play Super Smash Bros. It was sort of a ritual that everyone did at Sam's house – though I rarely participated and if I did I always chose Kirby. At some point in the night, either Sarah or I left a drawer open. Samantha's dad Steve came home drunk, saw that the drawer was left open, and started becoming wigged out and violent. Sam's dad was the kind of person to beat someone if lids weren't perfectly put on, if drawers and cupboards weren't completely shut. He was/is a horrible person, and it was baffling and startling to even try to imagine what it must have been like being raised by this guy. Samantha and Jake looked humiliated and nervous. Jake stood up eventually and took the blame for it – even though it had most likely not been the one who had done it. I don't remember what Steve yelled at Jake, but it was horrible and abusive, and though I couldn't see it, I heard scuffling in the kitchen of Steve trying to beat Jake up. I think Jake managed to shove his father and I remember him yelling 'I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU TRIED THIS IN FRONT OF THEM!!'. I felt badly. And I guess when I saw how things in this household, it was easier for me to understand why he had gone above and beyond to make life difficult for me at school.

Steve ended up leaving again thankfully, and we tried to play poker and pretend nothing had happened. I never got the hang of poker. From what I remember, I never had a hand I could play. So I spent the entire time trying to understand how to play without having any options.

Sarah's boyfriend Alex was coming to visit mid June for the first time, which basically meant that I only had about two weeks left to hang out with Sarah for the summer. After that, she would basically be around – but kind of not there. She wanted to spend the whole summer alone with Alex. She halfheartedly told me we would hang out sometimes, but it didn't seem very likely to me. And we both knew that after the summer she was moving to Texas. So for those two weeks, I swallowed every bit of disappointment I could swallow, and I tried to just enjoy being Sarah's friend in the moment. It was basically pointless to be angry anymore, as unfair as it all ended up for me. She had made her choice. Don't get me wrong, I was devastated, and I wanted her to understand fully that I was devastated. But my options were nil, and thinking about my own future was extremely unpleasant to me. The only thing I had to hold onto was the idea that some magical thing might become of me somehow. I didn't even know if I wanted to stay in school anymore. I didn't feel like I had any real talent. I could barely go into a grocery store without having a strong nervous reaction. How was I going to cope with being on my own?

To make matters worse, I remember Samantha asking Sarah 'What's Renee going to do without you Sarah?'. She asked it condescendingly. There was some truth to it which made it all the more frustrating – what was I going to do? But to a degree, I felt like people filled in a lot of blanks about me, and Sarah. Her meaning, behind the surface was to point out that I was weak, or that I couldn't form an opinion, and was incapable of growth – I was the helpless mooch. Sarah shrugged, and knew better than to insult me, and probably feeling guilty, wanted to hope for all the best concerning what would become of me.

My mom had somehow temporarily been able to rent the Nye's house again – the one Danny had us move out of for a few months. They were on their way to selling the place I guess, and were allowing us to stay there for the time being until someone came along. And it kind of ended up being a bit of a shitshow this time around. Germaine (remember her?), from the first house my mom moved into after the divorce was moved in there for some reason. I guess she found my mom bartending and she herself needed a place to stay and asked if she could stay at my mom's place. So, she moved into one of the rooms. She was a drunken narcissistic mess as always – I realized even more nearly a decade later what a truly annoying woman she was. And she had this strange deadbeat guy who she called her boyfriend there too. He was small, thin, had long black hair pulled into a ponytail and a beard. He looked filthy, and didn't say a word. He would sit outside at night against the house for hours. His eyes drifted strangely.

For whatever reason, Maria was homeless too, so she was staying there with her kids. I hadn't truly realized any of this, and had I, Sarah and I would not have decided to visit. The house smelled bad. What's more, my mom was on some kind of strange rage kick. She was acting aggressively towards Maria, finding any cheap thing to criticize her over. She kept making fun of Maria's suicide attempts. In old cartoons it is common for the sleeping character's soul to come out of their body in some kind of astral projection/ghost form, and run amok. I knew I couldn't just smash my mother's face in, but my ghost-self would do just that, and I envisioned angrily knocking her to the ground and forcing her to apologize. My mother can be this horrid  cruel person that you never want to see again. She wants to hurt people – Maria being the easiest person to hurt. She liked pushing Maria to a point of harming herself. And my mother also thrives with chaos. So if things are working well, she finds ways to undermine that. She was being that person completely that night. Sarah had never seen my mother like that, I don't think.

What ended up happening was that in the early evening Chantelle, Maria's two and a half year old daughter was sick with a high fever over 100 degrees and she wouldn't stop sobbing. My mom had been storming around screaming at everyone, but she set her sights on Chantelle. She dragged Chantelle by the wrists and began screaming psychotically in Chantelle's face. Of course, Chantelle was a deliriously sick two year old with a fever, and she couldn't and wouldn't stop crying. My mom then started accusing her of faking it. Maria, stepped in of course to defend her toddler, and my mom started screaming at Maria saying she should kill herself if she can't figure her life out. Maria started crying and arguing about something petty. At this point, I stepped in. I couldn't just stand there and watch my mom do her thing. Plus, Chantelle was a little child and wasn't fair game in my book. I told her to knock it off in some form or another. So she turned her total attention on me and began screaming at me – saying I had ruined her life, had prevented her from sleeping (I think she was probably hung over since Germaine was there). I wasn't quite there yet, but I had started reaching a tipping point with what I could handle of screaming and intense meaningless anger. I felt like I was either going to implode, or explode. In either case, my sudden intense feeling of frustration and rage was enough to turn off a good portion of my brain. I was afraid I would simply shove my mother to the floor and begin pounding her face – but at the same time I knew I couldn't do that. My mom almost had a twinkle of joy in her eye – as she could see she was getting an effect.

Then Germaine came out of her bedroom. She had been hung over as well, but had just started her second round of drinking. She sounded like the wicked witch of the west, and had those curling things in her hair. She came out and began screeching at me about how I was to RESPECT MY MOTHER NO MATTER WHAT!!! and that I had somehow been brainwashed by my father to try to destroy my poor mother – which was beyond absurd. I felt like she just wanted in on the action since she had always disliked me but hadn't had a good chance to get involved. The two snarling mean spirited bitches were both hollering at me, and I had to get away then and there, else I would have killed the both of them with my hands or a kitchen knife. I ran out the door crying hysterically. Sarah following me in a state of shock. This resembled absolutely nothing of what she had ever been raised in, and I think it was hard for her to fully imagine having such a wretched mother. Of course, Germaine's creepy boyfriend was hanging around outside the house, seemingly unaffected by any of the fight, and I just ran past him.

We ended up sitting in the gravel a ways from the house. By this time it was night. Sarah hugged me and said she was sorry. I explained to her in a state of misery that this was what I had to look forward to without her being around anymore. It was a true and realistic statement, and at this point my pains and woes were not theoretical anymore. The reality was, that when Sarah left, this essentially was what I could look forward to at random intervals from both my mother and father – in their own styles of course. There would be no escaping to Sarah's house anymore. There would be no good times for me. Despite the fact that Sarah and I fought, she really was a great joy of mine to have. She was my only friend, and the only person who remotely understood me. She may have been kind of self centered and empty headed, but she was endlessly patient with me – and I think she had done the best she could. For all her faults, I had troubles imagining anyone else really actually getting it. She seemed like the only person in the world that actually liked me. And of course, there wasn't an answer. I just cried until, as I talked, I said something funny, and then I laughed and somehow carried on. We ended up driving back home that night.

Three weeks later, Germaine's creepy boyfriend ended up murdering someone. Germaine dumped him a week later, and I guess he must have immediately found another woman to date, because he strangled her to death. My brother reflected recently on the fact that my mom was leaving Allison and David to be watched by this guy. David played video games with this creep alone in a house with him. A testament to my mother's observant parenting skills.

My father, all that year had dated numerous women online. He was trying to fill a void left by Patti, and maybe that void in general that exists with everyone. He even flew down to California to talk to one woman named Suzanna. The names of these women I know vaguely – they failed to make a real mark, the majority of them. They were all my father's world for a month and then they were replaced. I learned to not even think about them anymore, and online dating seemed incredibly unpleasant to me. I never hated any of these women. Most of them heard lies about me and never met me in person, and when they did they approached me with clueless friendliness masking underlying judgment. It didn't feel particularly like anyone involved was really connecting. There was probably twenty or thirty of them – and it never lasted. Tanya, the woman he dated for six months during the summer and fall of 2006, was probably one of my favorites. She was the only girlfriend of his that seemed to actually like me, or understand me even a little bit.

Tanya lived in Spokane, and my father wanted her to meet us. Part of my father's shtick – not that it was altogether inaccurate was that of the single father raising children alone. This wasn't a lie exactly - if you exclude the abuse towards me in my earlier teens and all throughout. But it was used as a corny agenda in order to show women how sensitive he really was, since many father's choose not to  be involved with their children and all that. It was all rather phony to me. He also lied about his height. To be fair, I honestly believe that he believed this stuff about himself and about our family. He had sort of erased any wrongdoing he had ever done from his own mind concerning beating me up that one time. He was able to justify and ignore just about anything regarding him expressing violence towards me. And truly, what good would it have done to try to tell these women different? Honestly, most of them were hoping he would pay a bill or two, which he often did and then they would break up with him for someone else they were talking to online. It was a very shallow world. People were afraid of being lonely – and truly – to each their own, but I can't think of anything more lonely than these brief relationships – if you want to call them that.

We first met Tanya in this sort of wannabe Hard Rock Cafe in Spokane. It was night time, the place was loud and my father was nervous. She didn't look at me with judgment and she seemed fairly together and reserved. I liked her overall. At first I was a little insulted because she compared me to Kelly Osbourne – which mostly insulted me since I thought Kelly Osbourne was a little bit campy and was a spoiled brat, but I probably shouldn't have taken it as nearly as insulting as it was not meant as such. We stayed at her place for one night. Her two sons were little hellions – and I could tell she never reprimanded them for anything. All they wanted to do was break things and pull their pants down. They screamed and tore things apart. Allison, David and I slept in her living room watching the first Narnia movie. The next day, Tanya pulled out her collection of Anne Rice novels. She gave me a few of them. She thought I would like them. I guess she had once been the goth of her high school and she wanted to be supportive of me as she felt I was a goth – though I still don't think that I actually was. I had dyed my hair dark again, and whenever I wear my natural hair color I have always been told I looked like a goth since my skin is pale and I like to wear a lot of make up sometimes.

The next day we went to this amusement park of sorts that was in the middle of Spokane near some rivers. It was sort of surreal for me being there, since I had sudden memories of having been there as a child in the early nineties, back when I guess that place had been rather busy. We got on the merry-go-round that I remember riding around when I was one and a half or two back when my parents had just gotten married and had gone up to Spokane for a shopping spree. Everyone was walking around together – me, my siblings Allison and David, Tanya, my father, but it was starting to strongly occur to me that even though people look like they are together, they really are a million miles apart in reality. Nobody was in solidarity here. We weren't a family – or at least, I was not a part of them. I wasn't apart of anyone anymore. I was beginning to feel incredibly alienated. These relationship dynamics were beginning to stick out in my mind everywhere that I went. I would see two people holding hands or kissing, and I couldn't help but notice in conversation they had nothing in common. Neither person actually knew what the other one was going through.

Tanya came to our house one more time a month later, but I wasn't around the house for very long. She might have been trying to scope out to see what my father's home was like. Because in conversation, we lived a Queen Ann style mansion (for it's time) styled home built in 1889, and considered a historical site by the state of Idaho. In reality, the house was this awkward cold place we made worse, and it had numerous issues. Going inside, it was very apparent that we weren't rich, but it might have seemed as though we were from conversations my father had on the phone. My father had this neck massaging thing. Basically, it had these two finger like things on either side of the place where you put your neck, and this machine would turn on and these things would vibrate and rotate around – an attempt to simulate a massage. I remember going downstairs at one point, and Tanya's boys were down there and in broad daylight, right in front of everyone, the were pulling down their pants trying to make the thing touch their privates – which was embarrassing for Tanya and awkward for all of us. These boys were ten and eleven years old, and I couldn't imagine doing what they were doing at that age. Anyway, Tanya eventually broke it off with him sometime after that – though I don't remember why, or how long after. Still, I always regarded her positively. She was never unkind to any of us.

My father had this new social life too. On top of buying absurd amounts of speakers and talking to random women online, he was starting to hang out with this guy named John who made Nickelback styled music in Clarkston – letting John borrow his speakers in hopes to play bass in his band. He also started working part time and semi for free for a friend of his back in the 80's named Rob who was starting a granite business that custom cut granite and other stone and installed it in people's kitchens and bathrooms. My father, as he was learning how to make granite smooth and polished, started collecting the scrap granite and making these weird granite cutting boards out of it, which he would sell cheaply to whoever wanted one. So there were granite cutting boards all over the place as well as speakers. Lastly, and more strange than anything, my conservative anti-drug father began spending a lot of time when he was in Kendrick with Billy, and other prominent drug dealing older teen guys. He was basically trying to assimilate with the druggy crowd from my high school, which was beyond strange. He started wearing his hat on backwards and talking with an attitude – particularly about women. He started drinking a lot and being out late with these guys who were thirty two plus years his junior. I felt like I had lost the plot completely.  

It would be about a week before Alex finally came to visit and Sarah would essentially be gone and I would have some new kind of life. I would look back and I couldn't believe that three and a half years ago, I had had over ten people I considered some kind of friend. Where had everybody gone?  I felt lost and depressed – but in a way I had never felt before. It felt like parts of my core personality were being stripped from me – that thoughts and words held no truth in and of themselves. They had to be sharpened like weapons and used in abstract ways. The world seemed upside down. I was losing my certainty about everything I thought that I knew. I wanted to get down to the bottom core truth of everything, but where could that be found? Was it love? Was it in art? Books? Religion or philosophy? Was the world we lived in primarily made of essence of perception, or were we living in the material? And why did I exist? Why did anything exist at all? It seemed impossible for me to know what to do next with my life. And I felt this burning sense that there was a truth that existed, and I needed to find it.

PART 57 - https://tinyurl.com/y9slhq2w

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PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

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PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

#text

[meditatemoremedicateless]

Dear Kate, (I couldn’t get her out of My mind)

Fandom: Life is Strange

Pairings: Chasemarsh, ambermarsh

Major tags: fluff, angst, possession

Words: ~ 6,800

Summary: Kate has a horrendous Thanksgiving with her family, interrupted by some nice pictures from Victoria’s bathroom. She runs into Chloe Price and Rose Amber and joins them for a smoke.

Read the full story on AO3

Dear Kate,

Happy Thanksgiving! I can't be totally sure you're going to be the one to wake up, but I'm praying you will be LOL! I've been reading and re-reading your notes on the fam so I can say the right stuff. For instance, I won't call out Aunt Martha for being a raging homophobe, I WILL ask Lynn about soccer, etc. I'm gonna kill it. I'm great with parents! Probably.

I had our study date with Stella, and everything went fine. I said I'd try and be careful with the addys and it was just a bad week and she relaxed. I think maybe the reason she was avoiding you was because she was dealing, and she'd feel judged if you found out? She didn't really say but those are the vibes I got from her.

I got an 'A' on the Brothers K essay! I left it on the desk so you could read it if you'd like, maybe throw some of my clever points out in class when you get back ;) No need to thank me. Unless you want to, in which case you can buy me something off my wishlist on Amazon.

Speaking of which, I was thinking we could do some sort of gift exchange before we head home for Christmas. Dana wants to do a secret santa and I signed us up, I hope that's okay. But I'd also like to get you some stuff. Can you think of any way we could buy each other gifts without the other knowing about it? I'm thinking I'll just literally bring gift bags with me when I go shopping so you don't have a chance to wake up before I get them wrapped lol. Lastly, I wanted to buy some of the girls in the dorm HP scarves. I'm thinking Alyssa - Ravenclaw, Stella - Slytherin, Max - Hufflepuff/Gryffindor, Dana - Hufflepuff, Juliet - Ravenclaw, Taylor - Slytherin, Courtney - Slytherin/Ravenclaw? Honestly I don't know them that well and I literally have no idea how long it's been since I've read HP so I might be off-base.

@your story about Vic and the porn: THAT IS AMAZING HOLY SHIT. Like I'm sorry I woke her up (I was a little wacked out that week, my bad lol) but that's so funny. I can't believe she worked up the guts to yell at you. I think I'd strangle me for waking me up that early if I was her.

I know this is a little dark but I wish I could spend Thanksgiving with my family. Or, at least, I wish I knew if I'd like them enough to spend it with them. Your family seems great but the holidays seem depressing AF honestly. I really hope it's you tomorrow, not me. I'm probably going to cry or some shit if that happens. I wonder what I'll even do if I get to meet them.

Last thing: I've discovered that I'm actually pretty good at singing?? which I did not expect. You never told me! So I jammed out with Max a little and it was really cool and fun and she brought up the possibility of doing covers on Youtube. It would probably be at least a kind of ongoing thing so . . . do you think you'd be up for it? I know things are a little weird between you two rn, and I don't know if you sing, so I thought I'd ask.

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving with your family.

X O X O ~ Katie

Kate let herself have a smile. It was so much less frightening to wake up with time lost as long as one of these notes was there.

Thanksgiving with the Marsh family this year was at Aunt Martha's, like it is most years, even though it's much smaller than what Kate's family had. Mobility was a pretty continual issue for her, so she stayed home unless she absolutely had to, and Kate's mom did the best she could to make sure she wouldn't have to. Aunt Martha was a miserable middle-aged woman whose husband had died too young while her bones withered away from tumors that, by most estimations, should have killed her. She was exactly the sort of person that Kate had been taught to sympathize with, to help selflessly. But, try as she might, Kate hated her, hated that suffering had made her so insufferable, and hated that there was absolutely nothing Kate could do that she thought was of any value.

As Kate sat in the living room on a couch across from Aunt Martha's chair, she wondered what Martha would have to say if she knew Kate had sex with women, or that there was the spirit of a dead girl that made her do evil things living inside her. If wanting to be a children's author and a vegan was too much disappointment for her, what would that do to her poor, fragile heart? Maybe it would be too much for her, and Kate would never have to spend another holiday in this musty house.

Kate had been having more trouble keeping her misanthropic thoughts out of her head since she'd been putting herself together. That, apparently, was the price of letting yourself fall apart. Or abusing drugs, it wasn't totally clear which.

"So, Katie, tell me how school's going. You're a senior, aren't'cha?"

Kate nodded. It was the same few questions every year.

"Where are you applying to college?"

Kate sighed. "I'm not. Blackwell has a two-year program for seniors, and I'm taking college credit there."

"Oh, I see." She paused, but Kate could already feel the next question coming. Aunt Martha didn't disappoint: "But why stay there when you could go to a real college?"

Kate bit back the sarcasm that wanted to rise inside her. "Because most universities don't have a career-oriented program for English majors, nevermind for people who want to do what I want to do."

"Mm, right," Aunt Martha replied, nodding her head as she remembered. "Children's books, right? It hardly seems like you need a college degree forthat. Or . . . is that the point?"

God, not this again. Why did Kate's family think that her desire to go to university was some cloaked attempt to be unsupervised around boys? When had she ever needed supervision to stay away from boys? Kate's eyes narrowed; "I'm not planning on finding a husband in college, if that's what you mean," she said.

This was always a sore subject between them, because that is precisely what Aunt Martha had done, and what Kate's own parents had done. Her insistence that she wouldn't do the same at least only came off as stubbornly independent to her mom, but to Aunt Martha, it was like it was an insult, like Kate thought she was better than her because she needed a man less.

Aunt Martha seemed to sense the tension, and she laughed. "No, of course not. I suspect we'll be waiting a while before we find a man who can keep up with you. I can't imagine an English department will have many boys ready to ask a girl like you out."

Kate bunched up her skirt in her fists, her leg bouncing up and down as a vent for her irritation. She wished Mom and Dad would call her in to help with Thanksgiving dinner, but the kitchen was small and Kate was, honestly, a terrible cook, so they never did now that she was old enough to only be called on when she was needed.

Aunt Martha was always like this. She didn't insist, like Mom did, that Kate had been taken in by the hairy feminists who insisted on women doing everything men can do to make themselves feel better for being unable to have a happy family. No, Aunt Martha had almost always seemed to recognize that there would never be a point where Kate would agree with her vision of a good life. She just thought Kate was tragically stupid. That Kate thought the world could give her something that a good family couldn't find by the grace of God. She thought Kate was materialistic, naive, and most of all, unwanted. And Kate couldn't help but hate her for it.

"So, sweetie, how is the abstinence club going?"

Kate choked on a bite of shepard's pie, the only thing she could really eat on the table because she'd made it herself. It took a few seconds of hitting her chest with her hand before she felt like she could safely breathe again, and everyone looked at her with concern.

Kate shook her head to regain her bearings. "Um. Yeah, it's doing really good. There's not a lot of people in it, but it's very supportive. We have movie nights in the dorms and watch documentaries. It's good."

Dad looked from his food, concern clearly written on his face. "Are kids still giving you trouble about it? I know you said there were some girls being mean about it."

"Aha. Yeah," Kate said, nervously brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "I think they got bored. Bullies, you know, they just like to get a rise out of you, so." Kate returned to trying to eat her food.

Kate hated talking about bullying, but she hated it twice as much with Lynn and Katrina listening. She always wanted them to believe that people were kind to Kate, and that she was kind to them. She wanted them to think that being kind would pay off. Not everyone was ready to accept that people are cruel, and you can't make them stop with kindness. Certainly not at their age. She also seriously didn't want to talk about the abstinence club, because if she let it slip that the membership was half Muslim and that the facilitator (Kate) wasn't even abstinent, this Thanksgiving dinner would completely implode.

Kate decided to take things into her own hands and change the conversation. "Lynn! How's soccer been?"

Lynn shrugged. "It's okay. It's not as fun anymore since we started being ranked, though."

Aunt Martha seemed amused. "You still get trophies for playing, though, don't you?"

Lynn seemed both taken aback and confused. She couldn't understand why the question was loaded - it's not like she watched the news or spent much time on the internet.

So, Kate interjected on her behalf, "I get that. I don't like competing, either, it kind of spoils the fun."

Lynn nodded, but Aunt Martha just raised her eyebrows. At the very least, she didn't say anything in response, just returned to her food.

Kate's phone buzzed. It would be rude to check it during dinner . . . but she just really didn't want to focus on dinner right now.

Victoria: Does your Thanksgiving suck as much as mine rn?

Kate smirked, settling her phone on her leg. She was careful with a touch screen - she didn't need to look to type, especially thanks to auto-correct.

Kate: more. Kate: my dad just asked about the abstinence club

"Kat?" Kate asked. Her sister gave her a glance. "How's robotics?"

"I quit."

Now that was something shocking. And disheartening. "But you love robotics," she replied.

Katrina seemed to think it over for a second, then shrugged slowly. Kate knew, of course, that Mom had always hated that Kat was so involved with robotics - it kept her out of the house for hours after school, and competitions often took her away for weekends and demanded even more hours away from home from her. Just like Kate had thrown herself at service projects and youth programs to stay out of the house, Katrina had been well on her way to becoming a professional right out of high school thanks to years on the Robotics team. Kat didn't really want to make a career out of it, though, and Mom had never understood putting so much time into developing skills you weren't going to use. If she knew her kids were doing it to stay away from her, she was just spiteful about it.

Victoria: wow Victoria: My family's just getting hammered because they can't stand talking to each other Victoria: You win though

Kate: thanks i know Kate: also they asked if you were bullying me still

Mom was the next one to speak up. "Oh, Katie. Maria Anderson sent me a copy of your school newspaper. You didn't tell us you had won a photography competition, sweetie. In LA, that's so exciting!"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I just forgot, I'm sorry. I've been really busy with school this semester." And the competition was in San Francisco.

Now Dad chimed in. "Have you been getting more involved with photography? I know you were unsure about it when you signed up."

Kate thought about it for a second, then nodded. She took a bite of shepard's pie, and the conversation halted, waiting for a better reply. "Yeah, actually. I'm the photography professor's student aide, and one of my friends is actually going there just to study photography."

Mom seemed intrigued. "Oh? The fashion photography celebrity from the pamphlet?"

Kate nodded affirmative.

"Well, that's exciting!"

Kate shrugged. "I guess. He's kind of self-important in real life, though."

Dad snorted. Then he said, "Well, I guess once you get famous, it's easy to get like that."

"I guess."

Victoria: Oh? bullying you? Victoria: What did you tell them?

Kate: i mean you were totally bullying me Kate: i just said everyone got bored bullying me because you can't get a rise out of me

Victoria: roflmao

It was several minutes before Kate got the next message from Victoria

Victoria: You're right. I should probably make it up to you. Victoria: So you're still at the dinner table, right? Now would be a horrible time to get caught doing something terribly un-Christian?

Kate: i mean, yeah?????

Victoria: You probably shouldn't open up your messages again for a while, then.

Kate had absolutely no idea what that meant. Or did she know what it meant, just not believe it could possibly be happening? Even when her phone buzzed again, she thought the idea was so ridiculous, she must be getting ahead of herself and-

Nope.

Victoria had sent her a picture without a shirt on, leaning against the door of what appeared to be a pristine bathroom. Her skirt was pulled down just enough to expose her underwear, which was pink and it matched her bra and-

Kate dropped her phone. It startled her a lot worse than everyone, but it startled everyone.

"Oh, sorry," she said, retrieving her phone from the floor.

"Katie, put your phone away at the dinner table," her mother admonished.

There was a second photo now. Now it was a selfie instead of a mirror photo, with Victoria sitting on the counter beside the sink. Her skirt was pulled all the way down to her ankles now, and the angle somehow managed to get her eyes and collar bone and breasts in good lighting. Victoria really knew how to use a phone camera.

"Mhm," Kate said, slipping her phone in her pocket.

She could barely eat after that, and she dropped her fork several times.

Kate decided to go for a walk after dinner, which she had done nearly every Thanksgiving in the past years, though not previously to text girls sending her bathroom selfies.

Kate: WTF!! Kate: I was with my family!

Victoria: I invited you not to look.

Kate: You call THAT inviting me not to look?

Victoria: You're the one who looked.

Kate: That's gross logic. Victim blaming.

Victoria: Oh? So you didn't like them?

Kate's jaw felt rigid for some reason, like she was holding back a scream. She was walking awfully fast down the sidewalk, making her way towards the wealthier part of the suburbs.

Kate: That is not the conversation we're having. Kate: No bathroom selfies without warning. Illegal!

Victoria: But . . . bathroom selfies are okay, then?

Kate decided to reply to that question with another question: a random handful of emojis followed by a question mark emoji.

Victoria: God you're such a lesbian

Kate felt a tingle run down her spine just reading the word. She'd always felt like her liking women and her being a lesbian were two totally different ideas. She couldn't help the first one. But the second one always felt like she had to do something, be someone she wasn't to earn it. She believed she had soundly rejected the life 'lesbian' implied to her. But now, here she was. A lesbian after all.

Kate: You know you're the first person to call me that without meaning to be mean.

Victoria: Yeah, I'm not a tool.

Kate could tell she was in the richer part of the suburbs now by how much better-lit the streets were. The roads looked recently paved, the lawns recently trimmed. It was the sort of upkeep you could only really afford if you had someone else do it for you.

Kate: Hey so I have a weird favor to ask

Victoria: Need me to slash someone's tires?

Kate: No? Kate: Why? Is that a thing people really do? Kate: Could you get me a vibrator?

Victoria: That's literally not weird at all, one Victoria: Two, this implies that you were making those godforsaken noises thanks to your HAND? Victoria: I'll get you a vibrator AND a gag

Kate: Hey, you know, I actually feel really weird about all of this. LIke, all of it. Like what is going on right now. Like how did we have sex? And how are you flirting with me right now? None of this makes any sense.

Victoria: you're telling me Victoria: I'd like to say I'm not questioning it, but I'm not actually the sort of girl who can not question anything, lol Victoria: But if I remember correctly, you had a nervous breakdown and then seduced me? Victoria: And I'm honestly surprised you can even recognize flirting Victoria: What with you being a founding member of the school's abstinence club

Kate: I guess I'm just totally losing my sense of identity and replacing it with lesbianism

Victoria: yikes Victoria: but also nice - solid improvement Victoria: no offense

Kate laughed. That was right, wasn't it? If Kate was still who she had been at the start of the month, Victoria wouldn't be flirting with her and sending her sexy pictures during Thanksgiving dinner. If Kate was still who she had been at the start of summer, someone who never would have kissed Victoria just to mess with her, then Victoria would still be mocking her, defacing her club posters right in front of her, just shitting on her at every turn. The only reason Victoria was treating her nicely was because she changed. The Kate that Kate still thought of as herself, the version of her that she was just on vacation from and would be again one day, she would never be in this situation. Victoria didn't like Kate. She liked whatever mangled version of her this was.

Kate: None taken. Kate: You're not exactly regular-me's type, anyway

Victoria: Wow, savage much? Victoria: You don't think I'm cute?

Kate: Oh you are Kate: I just like nice people

Victoria: haha! Victoria: That's fair Victoria: So who do you like? You know, normally.

Kate: I feel like you seriously do not comprehend the Christian + Lesbian experience

Victoria: Try me.

God. Was she seriously going to talk to Victoria about this? Of all people? Then again, who else did she have? Katie? How would Katie possibly understand? She'd never been interested in Kate's chastity vows. She would have broken them if Kate hadn't first. The way she always talked about which girls were cute and who Kate should date with absolutely no regard for how much it hurt her? Katie was just a fundamentally different person. Restraint just wasn't written into her personality.

Kate: OK fine Kate: I literally monitor myself to make sure I don't develop feelings for anyone Kate: Because there is no version of that that isn't a disaster. Kate: Step one, like a person. Based on my inclinations, probably a girl. Oops. Put on the brakes. Kate: Step two, date a person. I took vows. And I took them knowing it wasn't going to be easy. I don't think I could ever be close enough with someone to call it dating and not be tempted. Oops. Put on the brakes. Kate: Step three. Fall in love. But I'm not going to be sticking around here. I'm going to go off to college and I don't really plan on coming back. Fall for someone in college? We just break up or get married and those are samely awful because marriage is a sham that helps reinforce white supremacy in America and marriage is only going to distract me from getting through my education. And hey, getting dumped sounds pretty bad, too. Oops. Put on the brakes. Kate: So I don't "like" anyone normally. It can't be anything but a train wreck.

Victoria never seemed to start a message and not finish it within seconds. She was sure of what she wanted to say before she even tried to say it. You can see indecision in those little "..." that pop up on your phone, and Victoria's lasted longer than Kate expected.

Victoria: ... but you like me?

Dammit. Kate had said that, hadn't she? For Katie's sake. So Katie wouldn't be lonely. Of course. That's really why this was all happening, wasn't it? Because Kate told a little white lie in hopes of helping someone?

Kate: For now.

It was curt. It was mean, and honestly, probably a little degrading. But Kate sent it anyway. Victoria was quick to respond.

Victoria: I can live with that. But I have to tell you, I think your brakes might be broken.

That's not all that's broken. The thought made Kate smile, but it also hurt like a hole had been made in her lung.

Kate wished she could explain her situation. She wished she could explain that she never meant to take Adderall, she never meant to kiss Victoria, she never meant to do anything but keep living her closed-off, secure, closeted life, but that the choice had been taken from her. She wished she could explain that she only let the thought of having sex with Victoria be anything more than the most passing, unwelcome fantasy because she wanted to get back at an invader in her own body. She wished she could be cruel and tell Victoria that she wasn't as special as she must think she is, because absolutely none of this was about her. She was just the girl around when any would have done (any girl she didn't fear falling in love with, at least). Victoria thought she'd taken advantage of Kate - she even apologized for it the next day. The thought hadn't even seemed to occur to her that she was the one being taken advantage of.

But, in the end, Kate had to admit she was having fun.

Kate: Send me another photo.

Victoria didn't text back. Kate was fairly convinced that was because she was listening, and here in a few minutes she'd have a new picture of Victoria to titillate her for absolutely no reason other than she wanted it. Victoria, as bossy as she was, liked being told what to do. Kate had never felt the impulse to obey. She wondered how easy it would have been for her to keep living her life as planned if she didn't have to struggle every step of the way against herself. If only obedience was as easy for her as it was for Victoria.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw something that had haunted her dreams. Something that had always seemed far away, ephemeral, not really part of the same world that Kate lived in, sort of like Katie. No matter how much she'd seen it, she never really thought of it as something real.

The girl with the blue hair stood on the porch of one of the nicest houses on the street beside a short, black-haired woman. They each had a cigarette in their mouths, chatting amicably after a Thanksgiving dinner. Chloe Price: The girl of Kate Marsh's dreams. How strange it was that they'd never talked.

Finally, Chloe caught Kate standing there next to the driveway, looking at her with wide eyes of wonder and, frankly, fear.

"Yo!" she called. "Is that Kate Marsh?"

Kate just blinked. Of course. Of course they had met, and Kate just didn't remember. "Chloe Price?" she called, knowing full well the answer.

"Sup?! Wanna bum another cigarette?"

Another cigarette? Looks like that was another thing Kate didn't know she'd been doing. "Sure," she replied, and walked up the unfamiliar driveway to stand on the porch with Chloe and the unfamiliar woman.

"Hi, I'm Kate," she said, offering a hand to the Unfamiliar Woman.

"Rose," the woman replied as she shook Kate's hand, a wry smile on her face. "A friend of yours I take it, Chloe?" Rose asked before taking another drag from her cigarette. Kate absolutely hated the smoke from cigarettes. She was resolved to put it in her lungs.

Chloe nodded with a smile. "You can take it all the way to the bank. Kate here is an art student at Blackwell and co-friend to one Max Caulfield. She plays the violin beautifully and assists Mark Jefferson, fashion photographer and total hottie, as his class aide."

Kate had absolutely no idea how Chloe could possibly know all this stuff about her when all Kate knew about Chloe was that she ate at the Two Whales diner sometimes, and she didn't exactly have definitive proof of that, either.

"Well, Chloe, that's quite an impressive introduction-"

"-Thank you Mrs. Amber-"

"- But maybe Kate should get to talk about herself instead? And maybe you should light her cigarette, as she clearly doesn't have a light."

"My bad."

Kate held the cigarette in her mouth, bracing herself for what was to come. Chloe lit the cigarette and Kate inhaled and it felt like death and Kate immediately began to choke and cough.

Chloe pointed at Kate with her cigarette between her fingers. "You see, she keeps telling me she's a smoker, but I think she's just flirting with me."

Here Kate was, having one of the worst cardiovascular experiences of her life, and there Chloe was, making jokes at her expense like they were close friends. What in the actual goddamn?

"Are you alright, hun?" Rose asked as Kate managed to finally get a lungful of clean air. She nodded, not really aiming to talk so soon after embarrassing herself.

"Well, then, I hear-" she gave a pointed stare at Chloe, who just smirked before putting the cigarette back in her mouth, "- that you've taken over my daughter's TA position. How is that going for you?"

Wait, what?

"Rose . . . Amber," Kate mumbled, fitting the pieces together. Her eyes flicked up to Rose's face, wide with shock. "You're Rachel's mom."

Rose nodded. "That I am. Or I was, when she was still interested in having a mother." There was clear frustration in her face as she said it, but it cleared up a moment later. She shot Kate an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say things like that in front of a stranger."

Chloe waved it off. "Nah, don't worry about it. She's heard me say worse. Katie here has been helping Max and me with some . . . extracurricular activities lately."

"I . . . have?" Kate asked. But Chloe said it without hesitation, she couldn't just be making it up, could she? "I mean, I have been, yeah," she corrected.

Rose conceded the point but still said, "Forgive me, Kate. It's our first big holiday without Rachel home and I'm . . . being bitter."

Chloe cracked a smile, snapping a finger gun at Rose. "And a little drunk!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Yes, all right, and a little drunk. But mostly bitter."

"I'm . . . sorry, that must be so hard for you."

Kate suddenly felt stripped bare, exposed in an unusual way. She felt ashamed for the petty ways she'd been acting the past few days. There were people outside of her life, outside of her head who were having real problems, real concerns, and they still seemed to hold it together. Somewhere in the past few weeks of struggling against herself and abandoning all responsibility, the missing persons posters that littered her school had all become invisible, and she had forgotten that she missed Rachel, that she should care that Rachel was gone. Some people, though, didn't have the luxury of forgetting just because other things were going on.

"Yes . . . yes I suppose it is," Rose said, a faraway look in her eye as the embers of her cigarette glowed bright. She extinguished her cigarette on an ash tray left out on the deck railing and sighed. "I think some part of me thought she'd come home for the holidays. That she didn't . . . I don't know what it means."

The implication, though, hung in the air between them, a miasma worse than the cigarette smoke. Kate and Chloe both took a drag from their cigarettes to try and distract themselves from the thought of Rachel dead and buried somewhere, though the lack of oxygen and ensuing coughing fit did a much better job at distracting Kate than the nicotine.

After a moment, Rose said, "Well, I'm going to head inside. The Chardonnay isn't going to drink itself, I'm afraid." As she turned towards the door, she clapped a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "Just come in when you're ready."

Chloe nodded with a good-natured smile, and then Rose went inside.

Kate raised her cigarette again, but hesitated before it reached her mouth. Chloe laughed, and Kate tilted her head in confusion. "You don't have to smoke it, dude. Like in all seriousness, you should quit while you're ahead."

Kate pulled the cigarette away from her mouth and stared at it for a second. She considered smoking it just to be obstinate, but, honestly, the shtick was getting old for her. There were parts of 'no responsibilities' that she liked, but smoking was not one of them.

"Yeah, you're right." Kate extinguished her cigarette and leaned on the railing opposite of where Chloe stood.

"So, Chloe Price," Kate started, folding her hands in front of her. "You seem to know a lot about me. What's there to know about you?"

Chloe looked pleased at the prospect of talking about herself, and held her cigarette at her side once she'd finished what looked like the last of it. She blew up, trying to keep it out of Kate's face.

"Well, Katie, I'm nineteen years old, a natural blonde, my favorite color is blue and I like long, romantic walks on the beach. Oh, and I'm chainsmoking outside of my best friend's house to distract myself from the most depressing Thanksgiving I've ever had, and let me tell you, I've had some bad ones."

As much as Kate might like to ask about that, there was something far more interesting to her: "So, you and Rachel were close?"

Chloe quirked her eyebrows. "Was it the hundred or so missing persons posters or the breaking into your principal's office? Thanks, by the way."

Kate blinked. "For what?"

Now it was Chloe's turn to look confused. "For the . . . key to Wells's office? Max and I couldn't have done it without you, seriously."

I helped them break into Wells office? Katie, what are you getting yourself into here? Chloe doesn't know that you don't know what happened. Just stay cool and be vague.

"Oh, right, totally. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Chloe shrugged, tilting her hand back and forth to answer, 'eh.' "Kinda," she said. "Figured out that Nathan's a psycho, not that was news to anyone. Couldn't find Rachel's file though, which was shady as fuck considering they still had mine, but it didn't exactly leave us a lot to go on."

"Hmm. That's too bad."

Chloe nodded, then finally reached over to drop her cigarette butt on the ash tray. "We'll keep you posted. Anyway, how was your Thanksgiving?"

"Uhhh," Kate had no idea. It was a disaster, like it always was, but that wasn't really what stuck out in her mind. "It was . . . bad."

"How so?"

Chloe was not part of Kate's life. She was friends with Max, who Kate was friends with, so their spheres were not entirely divorced. But, obviously, Chloe was trusting Kate with something important, even if she had no idea what it was. Despite her rational inhibition, Kate got the feeling that Chloe was somebody that she could trust. And also probably a lesbian, judging from the rainbow shirt she wore in her profile picture on Facebook. Maybe this was the closest Kate would have to somebody she could tell about her fucked up situation.

"Well. For one, my parents asked about my abstinence club."

"Oh yeah, Max mentioned that you were in that. Why's that bad?"

Kate crossed her arms over her chest. "You promise not to tell Max?"

"Uh, yeah, sure . . ." Chloe looked both concerned and also overwhelmingly curious. "Why?"

"Well, I had sex last week."

Chloe said absolutely nothing at first. Her expression changed very slowly from concern to confusion to shock to understanding.

"Yeah, that seems like that'd be a weird conversation, then. Especially if - wait. Like, your first time?"

Kate nodded.

Chloe held her hand up in the air, "Eyyy, nice one!" She didn't drop it when Kate only stared at her hand, but after a second she seemed to realize the issue. "May-be? Are you happy about that? I don't know how the whole . . . abstinence thing works."

Kate giggled a little, then raised her hand for a high five. Chloe complied quickly, hitting her hand so hard that it gave a satisfying clap, although it also hurt like hell. Kate shook her hand to restore the feeling in her palm.

"So? Blackwell kid I know? Who's the lucky g-..." Chloe froze, inspecting Kate quickly and in no way subtly. "Yeah, I'm going to need you to help me out here - your sexuality's a little hard for me to suss out here."

Kate, despite herself, was growing fond of all these girls who, whatever else they thought, could distinctly sense that Kate was not-straight. After being friends with Alyssa, Stella, and Dana for a year, it was nice to experience a sense of normality. Not that she blamed them for the heteronormativity, really, it's just that everyone took her disinterest in relationships as some sort of shy girl shell that romance would one day crack. They thought she asked not to be touched because contact was uncomfortable for her. Even Alyssa, who was in the abstinence club too, never seemed to consider that relationships and touch alike were something Kate craved, and that is precisely why she said no.

"She's a girl. And you probably know her, so I feel like I shouldn't say."

"Ugh. Fine. But you're leaving me with some real gossip blue balls here, you know."

Kate gagged at that whole comment. "Gross. But, anyway, not only did I nearly die because I had to talk about the club, but then she goes and sends me pictures of her in her underwear during dinner-"

"-nice; continue-"

"- and I'm, you know, a bit new at this, so I lose my cool a little bit, nearly trip and stab my own neck with a fork, that sort of thing. So the whole dinner basically sucked."

"Reasonable, reasonable." Chloe paused to think for a second and then added, "Is it by any chance Victoria?"

Kate can't even muster up a facial reaction for how off-guard she was for that comment. "H-how did you-"

"Oh my god - holy shit! You had-"

"Ssshhh!"

Chloe had the biggest, goofiest grin on her face. "You had sex with Victoria Chase? Nice one, dude! I tried negging her for like two years, never went anywhere."

That left Kate a little more guarded, but mostly awkward. "I mean, yeah, because that's gross and misogynistic. Have you tried, I don't know, not doing that?"

"Pfft." Chloe considered it. "Yeah. I mean, no, not with Victoria, but like, in general. Why, what'd you do?"

"I-" Kate thought about what she had done, precisely. Had an emotional meltdown? Probably wasn't what did it. Just sort of grabbed her and kissed her? That actually sounds closer to sexual assault and definitely not something she was about to advise Chloe to do. What had actually, you know, worked? "I - uh." Kate's skin flushed red the more she thought about it. No, no, Chloe wasn't asking about those things, that was what probably made the sex continue, not start. Honestly, why should she even tell Chloe? What was it about this weird girl with beautiful arms that made Kate want to impress her?

"I - I dunno. I just. Kinda. Asked if she wanted to make me orgasm I guess?"

Chloe's shock looked both real and performative in its intensity. "Literally? How do you have so much game? You're like 5'5" and cute as a button."

Kate had been getting the impression throughout the conversation that Chloe was flirting with her. Now she was sure of it, and it was doing absolutely nothing to help her feel less embarrassed and overstimulated by this situation.

Kate reached up and scratched her head. The wind and walking had loosened a lot of her hair from its bun and now tufts of it were uncomfortably stuck in bobby pins, over her ears, and otherwise making nuisances of themselves. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell Max about any of this. I don't want her to think less of me."

Chloe held her hands up. "Hey, I won't, but she's also not one to slut-sh-"

"It's not about that. I just . . . don't want her to know."

The look Chloe gave her was awfully suggestive, but she didn't pursue the topic further. "Well, all right, that's fine with me. I think I'm going to head inside, though, it's getting kind of cold for me. You good getting home?"

"Oh yeah I'm . . . uh . . ." Kate looked down the road that she'd come from. It wasn't familiar. She didn't normally walk this far - she must have been gone for over an hour by now.

"Want a ride?"

Kate didn't have to ask which car was hers - it stuck out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Still, Kate got the feeling that yes, she really did want a ride.

"Nice truck," Kate said as she looked back at Chloe. To her own total lack of surprise, she caught Chloe checking her out - she switched to a pleasant smile as soon as possible, but it was still a fraction of a second too late. "Sure, I'd like that."

Chloe grinned again, and the devil there in Kate's heart woke up. Kate could see the scene in front of her just like she had with Victoria. If she wanted to, right now, she could probably have sex with Chloe. They could go for a ride a little past where Kate was supposed to get home, where the street lights weren't so frequent and everyone just parked where they could along the side of the road. There wasn't really enough room in the truck to do the sorts of things she had Victoria had done by the looks of it, but Kate liked the look of Chloe's arms and her hands, and she was pretty sure that would be enough to get her off. She had already promised not to tell Max. All she'd have to do is suggest it.

Kate's phone buzzed, and she broke the lingering eye contact between her and Chloe to check it. About half an hour ago there was a picture of Victoria lying on a large bed, her feet in the air and her face held up by a hand. She must have been using a selfie stick, because no one could get such a clear shot of their butt from above without one. Then, just now, there was a message.

Victoria: Did you literally die?

Kate laughed underneath her breath, but, honestly, she felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. What in the world was she doing? What gave her any right to take and use girls just because she wanted to? That's not who she was. And, more importantly, she knew that's not who she wanted to be. Orgasms and control were nice, but maybe they weren't worth giving up all of her integrity.

"C'mon, I'll take you home."

Kate: no, sorry, just got busy Kate: Maybe once we get back I could see more of that in person.

"Mmhmm, yeah. Thanks, Chloe."

Victoria: Maybe so.

Dear Katie,

Thanksgiving went fine. Aunt Martha was, as expected, unpleasant. Katrina dropped out of robotics (I blame Mom).

Kate paused there. How much should she explain? Everything was getting so complicated, and as much as she wanted to spite Katie sometimes, she very well might be the one in charge of Kate's body come the morning. At the very least, they should talk about how Katie got the key to Principal Wells's office. She should ask about what Max and Chloe were up to, and give Katie a heads-up that Chloe seemed to be into her. And she should probably explain what was happening with Victoria before things got any weirder.

It's been a long day. I think I'm going to just go to sleep. Try to get some homework done this weekend, and make sure you're nice to Katrina and Lynn. I don't know how you feel about kids but I love those two a lot.

I hope you have a good day,

Kate

Kate deleted all of her messages from Victoria before going to bed.

#dear kate #life is strange #before the storm #fan fiction #kate marsh #rachel amber #rose amber #victoria chase #ambermarsh #chasemarsh #possession #angst #fluff #serial

[goldenbearlyaging]

Our last interviewee is Professor Meredith Minkler. She is a professor emerita of Health and Social Behavior at UC Berkeley School of Public Health.

Q. What was your childhood like?

I was born in San Francisco in 1946. It was the first year of the baby boom, and the average number of children in families was 4.1. I know in our house and in our two neighbors’ houses, there were 20 kids in total. So, if you just walk outside, your play date was all set. It was the time when we weren’t wealthy by any means, but I was very close to my grandparents, which is one reason I ended up studying aging.

Q. What do you think your conception of aging was back then, compared to now?

I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. They were these amazing, engaging people. My grandfather was a minister, and my grandmother was a rabbi’s daughter, so it was an interesting marriage. But, I loved being with them and hearing their stories. My grandmother lived through the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco. So, she would tell us about that in great detail throughout her entire life, and I grew up very afraid of earthquakes.

But otherwise, I was very close with these two amazing people, and also to my aunts and uncles. They were also very loving and fun people whom I enjoyed being with. I grew up very at ease with being with older people, relating well to them and feeling very strongly about them.

When I turned 16, I started volunteering in Laguna Honda Hospital in San Francisco. It is essentially the largest nursing home in the country. I volunteered at a ward where there were 30-40 men, and some of them had been paralyzed in WWI or II and nobody ever visited them. So, I was there to help out not only physically, but also to be a presence.

Later, when I went to India to work on family planning, I noticed that the elderly were treated with so much more respect. So, I came back and changed my career goal from working in women’s reproductive health to working in aging, partly as the way to learn from the experience in India, and look at why our society has this “gerontophobia” and how we can overcome it.

Q. That’s a very interesting comparative look at it. I know that many of our student members come from cultures where they spend a lot more time with their grandparents, than maybe the average white Americans here.

I am glad that you said “white American,” because in general, in African American culture, all the different Asian cultures, and Latino culture, from numerous studies and personal observations, you don’t see nearly the extent of gerontophobia present in white Americans. Lots of factors contribute to this, and there are differences as well by social class, but overall, it’s the white American culture that suffers most from this fear of aging and consequent devaluing of older people.    

Q. What do you think is the difference between the older generation and the younger generation in the way that they themselves value connection with other people of different ages?  

One interesting thing is that young people nowadays delay getting together with their partners and having children. Their parents want to be grandparents, but they don’t want to say that out loud. I was married late because I was focused on my career, and I was 45 when I adopted a child. My parents never said that they wanted to become grandparents.

Then, when this baby came into our lives, I suddenly realized how much they have wanted this and how much they have been holding back that desire. I have lots of friends, in their late 60s or early 70s, who have never been grandparents and may never be.

Many parents, like my own, don’t push their kids to have children if they don’t wish to or are not ready, and that’s respectful and as it should be. But there’s something wonderful being able to experience being a grandparent (or foster grandparent), and in seeing your parents or children in their new roles as parents or grandparents.  

But the other piece to this story is that studies now are showing that young people feel closer to their parents and their grandparents than previous generations, because they’re able to be in constant contact with them via their cell phones. I was very close to my parents and I’d see them every weekend, but we weren’t in daily contact, texting and phoning. I remember the time when I got a public health internship in New York, and I called my grandmother from there, and she said “Oh darling, this must be costing a fortune,” and hung up on me!

Q. I was wondering if you can share a little bit about a transformative period in your career or about any other experiences that have shaped your career interest.

The important experience that changed my career direction was the last time I went to India as a young faculty member at Cal in 1976. I went to work on family planning in India, and while I was there, Indira Gandhi, the prime minister, imposed a nation-wide compulsory sterilization.

It was horrendous. The teachers were being told that if the parents of one of the children in their class have a third child, they would lose their jobs, because they were supposed to indoctrinate everybody with this “One or two children, stop!” policy. The government was taking 15-years-old boys and elderly men off the buses, and doing involuntary sterilization in underground camps. Also, they were offering teenage boys bicycles in exchange for “a little scratch” that would make them infertile without them knowing. It was this whole system under the prime minister who had been such a role model of mine. I just loved this woman, and after I found out what she was doing, I was on a mission to expose her acts.

I went to one of the underground camps, pretending to be a supporter, and carried a little camera, got some pictures, and wrote up what I was seeing and learning. The journal called Medical World News put out an article about it, and I also published an article in another journal to tell the story to a public health audience. I could never go back to India after that. My phone had been tapped, and it was really, really scary.

My life’s goal before this happened was to continue to study and support India’s family planning  program, which had been among the best in the world, but had just gone in such a bad direction that I couldn’t even conceive of going back. It’s kind of the way different things happen in our lives.

But on my way home, I got a chance to have conversations with the Minister of Health of Pakistan, who was about to implement compulsory sterilization in his country. I told him that I believed that this is going to bring down the government of Indira Gandhi, and convinced him not to do it. So, ironically, my most important contribution to public health was that conversation, which came out of my experience in India.

Q. Were you able to take any important life lesson from being so close to what happened in India in the name of public health?  

I think there are huge consequences in fields like public health and social welfare when a few people in power exert great influence on policy without really considering the adverse outcomes that might be by-products of their decisions.

Now we are seeing Trump, who is just giving such misinformation and is unwilling to let the scientists oversee something as serious as the Coronavirus pandemic.

There are a lot of lessons that we’re learning as we go along and have these different experiences in the fields like public health, gerontology, etc. But hopefully we are not only learning them individually, but also as a society.

Q. If you would be able to speak to people of my age, who are potentially finishing their undergraduate education, what advice would you give them?

I have always believed that we should listen to the voice of science, but equally important is the lived experiences of people in their daily lives in their communities. Most of my research over the last 30 years has been community-engaged research, where the community decides what they want to study and you, as academically trained researchers, work with them.

For example, I became very concerned about the crack cocaine epidemic in the late 80s to the early 90s and what it mean for the elderly. My closest friend and I both knew older African American women who were suddenly becoming full-time caregivers for their grandchildren, because the parents had become involved with crack cocaine. They died, or were in jail, or simply couldn’t take care of their kids.

This was a sensitive issue, and my friend and I were both white. So, we went to talk to an African American colleague, and asked if there’s something we could do to engage the voices of the African American grandparents. She said “Absolutely, and I’ll be your cultural guide.” I loved this term, because she was a lecturer at Cal, but at the same time, an African American woman with deep roots in the local African American community.

So, she went to some African American organizations with us, so we could ask whether there was any role we as white women could play in helping explore and address this issue, and if so, would they partner with us? At each organization, we were told that grandparent caregiving in the crack epidemic was a huge issue, nobody had studied it, and that they did want to be part of such an effort.

With their help, and that of five African American graduate students, we were able to conduct what was the first major in-depth study of grandmothers raising grandchildren during the crack cocaine epidemic. We also ended up writing a book to help give voice to the grandmothers’ experiences, with all proceeds going to support a respite center for the grandparents.

The leaders at the organizations we met with early on were also invaluable in helping to set up an advisory committee of ten older African American women who knew so much about the epidemic and the culture. For example, we were going to see if we could get interviews with older African American women, and we used the age cut off of 55, and they said that “You have to make it 40 or 45 because a lot of us become grandparents at an early age.”

One of the women I  interviewed was working at Cal, and was caring for a 2-years-old grandchild full-time, but most of our interviewees were very poor. It was just this huge range of experiences of African American grandparents, who had turned their lives upside down in order to take care of their grandchildren—it was a real eyeopener.

Now there is the opioid epidemic which hit predominately white families. It has been very interesting, and in a way, very sad, because the government has been much more quick to put resources into this situation, and all kinds of support for the white grandparents who are raising these kids. The narrative has changed, because now it’s the white people who are being affected.

Recently, a community organizer in the Northeast brought up this experience and said that “When it was us, the solution was basically lock them up and throw away the keys,” but now that it is mainly white families, the solutions were much more in line with good public health and social welfare—not criminalization.

In the crack epidemic, there really wasn’t a lot of thought given initially to how we could support older people, who have their own physical and mental health issues, and should be able to care for themselves for this time in their lives. Suddenly, the doctors and nurses who were working with low income, African American patients were seeing these huge spikes in diabetes, hypertension, etc, and the one common denominator was that all these women were now caring for kids under 5 because of the crack epidemic, and it was such a huge strain on their health and wellbeing.

Q. If you could change anything about the way the people talk about the opioid crisis, or any other drug crisis, what would it be?

We need to recognize that we do treat different subgroups differently, based on their age, race, etc. We don’t have equal treatment under the law or the ethical law, and we really need to pay attention to that and change it.    

In addition, I think we need to change the narrative that grandparents can, and should do this “out of love” to how we can give them all the support that they need, if they do choose to step in. We should recognize that some can’t or choose not to do this, and we shouldn’t vilify them for it. Because we wouldn’t vilify the younger adults who would say “I can’t quit college to take care of my brother.” We say that they’ve got their lives to live. But somehow with older people, we often think that this is part of what they should be doing, regardless of what their situation is.

Q. What would you say to people about your own age?

It’s hard because a lot of us grew up feeling that we have to be looking out for others and not focus so much on ourselves. But I want to tell older people that you have earned the right to think about what it is that you want to do. Have you heard of the phrase “Greedy Geezers?” (Editor’s Note: The term is used to describe supposedly self-centered seniors who insist that elected lawmakers get their hands off Social Security and Medicare. Source: The Senior Citizen League)

This phrase came out in the 80s, when the conservatives in government were trying to shift blame for large cutbacks in government programs and services by suggesting to young people that the elders were “spending their children’s retirement,” running around with their golf carts, not doing anything valuable to society.

In reality, these elders were spending their own hard-earned money, many were of modest incomes, and elders had—and continue to have—the highest rates of volunteerism of any age group in the country.    

So the “Greedy Geezer” myth is just that!  But it’s been a convenient myth among those who want to shift the blame for inadequate health and social services away from tax cuts for the rich and corporations and onto the  backs of the elderly.

Q. When I think about the elderly who were in the workforce 30-40 years ago, it seems like there is this culture of corporation as a family. Do you think that the elders still feel that affinity towards these corporations?

The one thing I would say is that when gerontology was studying all the different theories of how people age (disengagement theory, activity theory etc.) someone said, “I am who I am, only more so.”

What this means is that you don’t turn 65 and suddenly become a conservative  or a different person at all. My dad’s generation came out of WWII and voted very heavily for Eisenhower, because he had been a great general in the war. Although his values were not at all Republican, my dad voted for a Republican for that historical reason, and later on, changed to become a Democrat.

What I am trying to say is that there is this cohort effect. Some of them, like the generation born after WWII, have grown up in a really good time. All the money was being poured into education, jobs, the “GI Bill of Rights”, and guys coming out of the war could get their way paid even to Harvard Medical School if they could get in. It was a pretty good time to be growing up, and this would reflect itself in later years on how you think about things.

However, although older people see the world in part through the lenses of their own historical events, they also see it through the eyes of their children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews who matter to them. For example, they often are upset about the college students getting  exorbitant student loans. The part of their world view is how we get more fairness in the way that our young people live. They would think, ‘We went to college way back when we didn’t rack up these big debts. What can we do to help to level the playing field generationally, so that our children and grandchildren have a fair shot at having a good life?’

Q. Can you tell me about an interesting project you have worked on?

I started the California Seniors Leaders Project with some graduate students in 2001. Briefly, the California Wellness Foundation put out an initiative in aging, and they wanted to encourage elder volunteerism. And I talked to the head of the initiative, a colleague of mine, and said “you know, many elders are doing a ton of volunteer work already. Why don’t we try to honor and recognize the elders for the work they are already doing, instead of proposing that they do more?”

So the California Seniors Leaders Project was designed to find (through a statewide nomination process) elders who were making a real difference through their volunteer work on the individual, community, or policy levels, and  provide media publicity around their work, and gave them each $500 to support an organization with which they worked. But it also brought together the honorees (30-35 biannually) to celebrate and honor them, and have them spend time together in regional and statewide meetings so that they could explore the issues that they, as a group, were especially concerned about. Then, they would meet with policy makers locally and in the state capital and try to work on moving ahead legislation that would help elders and others they were concerned about.

We realized that most elders who receive recognition in our society tend to be white and somewhat privileged. So, we primarily honored older Americans who had done amazing work, and who were low income, members of racial and ethnic minorities, LGBTQ, and who, in other ways, haven't been part of the  mainstream.

Despite many disadvantages, the elders selected had done so much work to improve conditions for the elderly, but also contributed to programs for children, refugees and other groups. The CSLP was  a really successful project, and with a total of ~ 120 members aged 60 to 102.

In addition to their group meetings  several times a year, they also did a lot of advocacy work in aging and other areas as individuals. The student volunteers and staff who worked with each cohort and would also write articles for their local papers, and they would get press around the work that they were doing.

We had 6 students from sociology, public health and gerontology working with each cohort in the project, and they all really enjoyed it. They really got to understand the rich backgrounds of elders they are not likely to meet in their daily lives, and some of the students even decided on a career in gerontology or gerontological nursing as a result of this experience.

Q. Do you have any happy moments in your life that you want to share?

My husband and I adopted one child who turned out to have very special needs, because he had a history of addiction on both sides of his biological family. He was a real challenge, and he and my husband didn’t have much in common.

Then, there was a teenage pregnancy and my son thought that he and his girlfriend weren’t old enough for this, he didn’t have a job, etc., but his girlfriend and his father insisted that she go ahead and have a baby. The baby turned out to be twins, and these two girls have become the most amazing center point of our lives.

They’re just wonderful humans, and I watched my husband transform from a guy who wasn’t particularly interested in kids to this super grandfather, and that was a very happy thing to watch. It’s very hard right now not seeing the granddaughters we were in the habit of caring for two days a week because of social distancing during the Coronavirus pandemic, but being grandparents, which I never thought we would be, has been a wonderful and exciting new chapter.

[killiandurrani]

[ ZAYN MALIK, CISMALE, HE/HIM ]— If you’re strolling Derry today, you might see [KILLIAN DURRANI ] along the way! The [ TWENTY SIX ] year old can usually be found at [ THE FALCON BAR ], when they aren’t busy with [ COMIC BOOKS or DRAWING ]. I hear they seem to be [ CHARISMATIC and INTELLEGENT ], but they are also rumored to be [ CUNNING and ALOOF ].

BIO

Killian was born and raised in Derry, Maine with hopes that one day he would escape. However circumstances in his life made that almost impossible and twenty six years later he’s still here. He was born to two crazy teenage kids that didn’t really have what it took to be parents yet they tried their best until life took them too soon in a horrendous car crash . while he was only six years old and has limited memories of what they were like, Killian’s been trying to both forget them and honor their memory. It’s why he’s struggled with leaving a town he feels meh about . it’s also a bit as to why his personality is all over the place and he can be a dick but also somehow the sweetest person around. 

He spent the majority of his life living with his grandparents until he was able to support himself. While Killian was never much of an academic, he was always very artistic, always able to find happiness and beauty in the things he saw. Killian also was a troublemaker, a bit of a careless and selfish kind of guy that broke rules and liked to do things his own way so most people are surprised that he’s actually soft and has a big heart. and the best way for him to share that is through his art. yet Killian never thought of himself as capable of doing anything and didn’t go to school but chose to stay in Derry to help his grandparents. 

While most people in town seem to know who he is , it never seems to be for the right things. Killian was the kid that always cut class, the one that always had a girl on his arm, that was always smoking and drinking and often making reckless decisions. killian was always the one that was rude and made fun of people and lived for sarcastic comments. while he can’t say that he’s much different now than he was in college Killian doesn’t see himself as a bad guy anymore as he’s trying to cut back on the mean-ness. He works at the bar in town where he gets to interact with a lot of interesting people while he works on his art on the side. He’s been trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life and always seems stuck but the one things that makes him the happiest, aside from drinking, is comic books and graphic design. It’s something he’s positive he would be good at but has never had the support . While he can’t complain about his life he’s always felt like he’s just been there. like he has no significance and he doesn’t really matter. he feels very lost. 

FUN FACTS 

killian’s got that cool guy vibe going on with the leather jackets, the doc martens and the tattoos but he’s actually a big softie. he feels like he needs to act tough to protect people and himself but once you’re his friend he will deeply care about you. he likes working at the bar because he likes listening to people’s stories and doing his best to help their problems. although to most strangers he’s still a bit of an asshole. 

he’s never had any serious relationships in his life and it’s mostly his own fault. he loves sex and thinks it’s a great way to bond with people but he’s terribly afraid of falling in love ,especially if it’s falling in love with the wrong person. so while he’s got lots of flings killian kinda figures he’ll never fall in love. although if he did he’d be a big cutie and softie about it . 

killian’s a big nerd, his comic books are his favorite thing in the world and it’s mostly because they used to belong to his parents and so it’s one thing that ties him to them. it’s also the one thing he remembers about him. he loves superheroes, especially spiderman and deadpool because they’re the best (i am biased because they are my babies). while he’s been drawing his own comic books for ages he’s afraid to show anyone his work and be ridiculed for them. 

he’s got bad self esteem issues. while he knows he’s hot and has obviously no problems with the ladies, he’s also never felt like he’s been worth much. his grandparents love him dearly but he always had to deal with his aunts and uncles calling him a bastard and his paternal family wanted nothing to do with him because of that. while he knows his parents were young and crazy , he knew they were in love. however certain people in his family have made a big deal about him being a bastard and it’s gotten to him. 

he is your number one go to guy if you need to have fun and let loose. while he won’t be the pushy type when it comes to alcohol or drugs, killian loves letting loose and having a good time. he’s always at every party and also makes sure everyone’s having a good, but also safe time, he’s honestly such a nice reliable dude 

this is all i’ve got atm and i’m sorry it’s just mindless rambling but please come love killian, also charley she needs some love soon too ! 

#i'll probably update this later #{cause all i see are wings} musings.)) #death tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw

[chimaeracabra]

Wednesday-Thursday

           Last night we went to band practice. Kacy and Vanessa are adorable. Everyone was so chill. Joe was a little bit late, but he was also really nice. He said that the name of their band, Hatteras, comes from this island called Hatteras in North Carolina where he wanted to go when he was living there but never did. And so he started writing music again in 2014, thinking that he would never end up making music with other people again. And then it happened, so that island meant something similar, a place he never thought he’d go. Very sentimental.

           On the drive home, Nathan explained the way that the band fell together. He had met Joe on Craig’s List trying to put together a band just for fun. Nathan and Joe met two other people via Craig’s List for the band, and the other two guys that played a few shows with them ended up saying that they didn’t like screaming. It just wasn’t their style, so those two guys left. And then Nathan and Joe still wanted to make music, so they kept on with it and looked for a bass player and drummer. Their drummer kept flaking, but Joe recalled having reached out to Vanessa a year prior about being bass for a band. So once Joe hit Vanessa up again, she came to a practice, and brought her boyfriend, Kacy (because, duh, no one should meet random guys off Craig’s List and go alone). Kacy ended up being a drummer, so that’s how those two joined the band.

           I liked seeing him happy while he was practicing. I’ve never felt that way before in a romantic sense; just happy because the person I’m with his happy. We went to Winco again afterwards because I wanted some other items. People still stare at us sometimes. I told Nathan that I never notice, though. I don’t see well.

We went by Sacramento City College and fed the ducks. The geese were bitchy, some of them. Some would eat straight from my hand, others were too scared. It was kind of funny, actually. And at one point, this kid came up and asked for a piece of the white bread that Nathan brought last night at Winco for us to feed the duckies. I gave half a piece of bread to a kid who came up and asked me for some. There were even turtles that ate the bread. I saw two of them come up. They were very small. I fed a squirrel; it came right up to my hand and ate the bread I was holding. It almost looked like a rabbit, actually. There was so much goose poop, though. Ew. Lol.

Nathan then drove me to Sacramento State University, and we walked around there. There was a bridge that looked similar to the Golden Gate, where we’ll actually be going tomorrow. 

It got very hot while we were walking around. Started sweating bullets. But it was nice. And then we went into the library. And there were some really cool old books in there. Nathan found a bunch of really huge ones...

And there were some very large map books. I saw something with Roman/Latin inspiration in it. So of course I photographed it...

I put Keep You on in the CD player in Nathan’s car on the way back to the house. Then I started to feel really sad. I’m going home on Monday. I can’t believe this trip is almost over. I still can hardly believe that I’m here. I’m dreading going home. However, I think that Nathan’s bed is too soft for me. I have been waking up with back aches since I got here.

Sigh. I’m going to really miss him when I have to go. He has already talked to me about meeting my family. I’m going to be meeting his grand parents on Sunday, Father’s day. Although, he will be going to see his father alone for the reasons that I’m not at liberty to really discuss. It’s a sad situation that makes me feel sad, because I know that Nathan’s not happy about it. And there is nothing I can do. So that’s probably going to feel awkward for me. And I don’t want to call my own dad. As far as I know, he doesn’t even know that I’m on the West coast right now. Nathan told me that if my dad calls, I should just tell him about us. And I think that I will. 

I’m just so sad this is almost over. I like being with him. We were watching Black Mirror and Gran Torino yesterday. In the episode of Black Mirror we watched, there was a dating app and this interracial couple (BWWM), and we just cuddled and at one point I said, “They’re meant to be together.” And Nathan rubbed my shoulder and said, “Just like us.” Gran Torino was funny, and sad. Then we started watching this film called Fury. I was resting my head on Nathan’s chest and he kept asking me if I was falling asleep. I was so tired, but I didn’t want to go to sleep. He left the room to get a drink and told me, “Keep watching, okay.” I don’t know...it feels like we’ve been together for a long time. The other day, Nathan said it felt very natural as well. He said in the car at one point, “I definitely wanna marry you.” I was in the bathroom doing my makeup the other day and he just came in and peed. Nothing has been awkward. It’s pretty amazing. I don’t reach this comfort level with most anyone this quickly.

I almost can’t stand myself right now for feeling as airy-fairy as I’m feeling, because I’m afraid that something horrendous is going to happen. I’m afraid that if I get too happy, it’ll be shattered just like that. Waiting to see...

I keep adding to this post because things keep coming to me that I forgot to write about. On Tuesday evening, Nathan and I went into the pool. His sister’s husband’s coworkers came over with some kids. Nathan hates kids. Lol. One little boy came over to a chair where I left my cover up and took it to his mom, thinking it was hers. Nathan was shaking his head and looked so irritated, but I just laughed and told him that he thought it was his mom’s, and if I was a kid, I would have done the same thing. He kept smiling as we floated around in the pool. He has this smile that’s like...almost mischievous, like he knows something that I don’t know. I told him this, not really knowing what he would think. I think he just told me that he’s happy.

When we went to Sacramento City College today (where he’s taking some classes to transfer to UCLA), there was a bench, more like a moving gazebo thing that we went and sat on. He told me about his black cousins and aunt and uncle. We talked about how we got spanked as children, but his aunt left her husband because he used to actually beat their kids. I loved hearing about his childhood and experiences. He gave some pieces of our last white bread loaf to some kids who asked for some so they could feed the ducks and geese. He said that he liked those kids, and I said it was because they were more mature and well-mannered. His bandmate Joe is going to be teaching 7th and 8th grade, which Nathan said he feels badly for him because of that. But they’re probably going to be well-mannered kids because they’re from rich white areas. I told him that if we have kids, they’re going to get spanked if they misbehave.

When we were walking around the pond, he pointed across the street to a house and said one day we’ll live in one of those. (Lol, he just asked me if I’m okay again. I love this man. Holy fuck) And there was this place called Fairytale Town where people can take their kids. Also there was a little zoo. He said that he remembers going there to the petting zoo as a child and thinking it was such an amazing place. But now as an adult, he thinks, "God, that's just a place where the animals want to die." Because children terrorize animals. I jokingly said that when we live in one of those houses next door, we can take our child there to terrorize the animals. Nathan said, “And I’m going to tell our child, ‘Listen, these animals are here to be terrorized for your pleasure.’” This is ineffable.

#personal #he cute #love

[happyhealthyanna]

Needed to write it out so definitely don’t read if you need holiday cheer

The holidays are hard when you’re an adult and the magic has worn off, when you still expect the holidays to be this perfect time where family and friends come together to appreciate one another and celebrate, but in reality it’s just another couple of weeks. The magic was erased five years ago when my parents were both broken because of something that tore my family into two sides and I was broken too but my empathy allowed me to be the “strong” one. 

They healed, sort of, and I did too. I’ve grown from it. It doesn’t make it easier every year, though. I express these feelings and am met with comments like “you’re making it a self-fulfilling prophecy by being so negative” and “try to focus on something outside of yourself”. So I try. I try to get excited and be present and enjoy the time with my family. I try to focus on my love for my nieces, cousins, aunts, grandparents, parents. But the sadness is always lingering around this house, within the wrapped presents that will be gifted at the other Christmas gathering, within the kitchen where the tears and shouting happened years ago, within my older set of grandparents who are simply shells, within the front door mat where there should be another four pairs of shoes. I feel it so much. From myself, from my parents, from the fucking walls themselves. The things that have been said under this roof haunt me - most times I’m able to move forward, but not when I’m in a bad place.

I’m in a bad place.

So let me be honest and say that I wanted to kill myself this morning. The last time I got this bad, I didn’t do it because I knew it would break my parents’ heart. This time, I wasn’t so sure because they’re mad at me. I’m very sick, physically and mentally, at the moment. I have been developing a cold that gets worse every day and have a terrible cough. I was up all night running to the bathroom, my own fault from drinking a lot of wine last night (because I was trying to enjoy the Christmas Eve celebrations!). My fault. I should have stayed home or not overindulged but I have to try to enjoy things. I have to try.

(For what it’s worth, I really don’t think I’d ever actually take my life - I get into these horrendous depressive spirals where all I can think about is how I don’t want to live anymore and how it would be better for everyone if I was gone, but the fear of the act itself and the idea of someone having to find me always stops me)

Such a hilarious juxtaposition of a morning it’s been, too. For Christmas, my mom got me lots of nice, self-care things - a charcoal face scrub, aromatherapy, a book, affirmation cards - yet when I was falling asleep on the couch shortly before we were to head to the other Christmas gathering, she’s telling me how frustrated she is with me because I won’t take care of myself, aka take cough medicine that I know will make me sick to my stomach, and that I look like shit. I hid away in the dark guest room to cry for an hour and pretended to be asleep. Like a child. She and my dad left without saying goodbye. My dad bought me cough medicine and left it by my Christmas gifts, these nice things I don’t deserve, from nice people who deserve to have a better daughter than the one they have.

I feel that I am such a burden on everyone, and yet I also feel like no one will ever understand the extent of my suffering. How I truly believe that I feel the emotions of not only my own fucked-up self, but everyone else around me. I could feel my mom’s anger at my dad last night (they had a fight before I arrived), I can feel their distain towards one another seeping through the doorways and Christmas toasts. So I do what I always do, try to be quiet in my suffering and easy and fun. I drank a lot and made jokes, but that wasn’t good because apparently a lot of them were self-depreciating and that makes everyone uncomfortable. I failed and out came the side of my mom, the hateful and angry words and tone, the side I don’t see as often because she’s so much better now but I guess I still cower internally, try to be the good girl, because I can’t stand to remember or be reminded.

What do I do? Take a shower, clean myself up, drink cough medicine that will upset my stomach within an hour, head to the family gathering with my pumpkin cheesecake bars that no one will eat because I’m sick, and leave after an hour or two and have everyone be disappointed in me and possibly angry that I showed up and could get the kids sick? Or should I just call it, pack up the Christmas gifts, clean up the trash, and wipe everything down with Lysol wipes as though I was never here, my existence eradicated, my brother and parents disappointed in me and furthering the narrative that I don’t care about my nieces/family in general? Will my roommate be home and feel obligated to ditch her plans and spend yet another evening listening to me cry on the couch? 

How can I make up for my existence? I don’t have money for Christmas gifts. I thought we were only doing Secret Santa so I got that gift, but of course my parents got gifts for everyone and my brother probably did too. Auntie Anna shows up empty-handed again, this time with a cold to spread to everyone. I am not going to burden my family further by telling them that I am unwell, using mental illness as an excuse with I have all of the tools to get better available to me but won’t use them because I am to prideful. I can’t afford therapy and I won’t take any more of their money, more things that I am indebted to them for. I won’t ruin their Christmas any more than I already have. They’ll be fine without me, they always are; there are a lot of photos around this house that I’m not in from when I lived out of state and from when we were not speaking and from various illnesses. They look happy in all of them.

My parents, family, & friends have no idea how bad things get. I intend to keep it that way. They don’t need to know, I don’t need to burden them with it.

Every time 11:11 rolls around, I wish to be well. Every evening in my prayers (who I’m praying to at this point, who knows), I pray to be well. I spend my waking moments dedicating to bettering myself. When will I be well?

#personal #delete later #tw suicide