#november is also the month my mom died several years ago

[tiny-feisty-gay]

it’s 5am, i’ve been up for an hour because body decided it’s time for Awake and now i’m just sad about my lack of sleep

[sad rambling in tags, feel free to ignore]

[michaelcosio]

UC Davis Health employee offers free hair care for patients on his days off

By Rebecca Badeaux and Edwin Garcia

March 20, 2023

(SACRAMENTO)

Aaron Brazier got the call no parent ever wants to receive.

Thanks to a resourceful social worker at UC Davis Health, a John Doe rushed by ambulance to UC Davis Medical Center was identified as Brazier’s 20-year-old son, Jake. He had been severely injured in a train accident and lay in a coma.

“We jammed down there and my wife fell to her knees saying, ‘that’s him,’” Brazier recalled.

Brazier and his wife, Carin, would spend the next two months by their son’s side. And Jake, an avid snowboarder and former captain of the Sacramento High School football team, would ultimately lose both legs and his left hand.

“A parent walks into a room and sees that boy, hurting the worst way,” Brazier said. “But my son is alive because of his nurses. Man, they are my people for the rest of my life. And the doctors, I could start shouting all their names, but they know who they are.”

After his son recovered in early 2019, Brazier wanted to give back to the hospital that saved Jake’s life. He started volunteering for the medical center’s transport team, bringing patients to different areas throughout the hospital. One month later, that turned into a job. And 10 months ago, he was hired as a member of the lift team. Lift team members are specially trained to lift patients to and from beds, chairs and examining tables safely, as well as turning them over to prevent bed sores.

“I watched lift team guys take care of my son. Then I learned a lot of those skills during Jake’s recovery at home,” Brazier said. “Now, I’m side-by-side with the nurses all night long adjusting patients, helping out wherever we can so they can be comfortable.”

"My son is alive because of his nurses. The nurses at UC Davis, in my opinion, are the best in the world. — Aaron Brazier, UC Davis Medical Center employee

Past profession translates into patient well-being

A few months ago, Brazier began helping in a new way — tapping into his former profession as a barber. On his days off, he now boosts the spirits of patients by providing free hair care. That’s how he met June Cary in the Firefighter’s Burn Institute Regional Burn Center at UC Davis.

“I’ve seen his recovery since the day he got here,” he said.

Cary arrived in November 2022. More than 70% of his body had been burned in an electrical fire. Amazingly, he lives to talk about it.

“You wake up two months later and see you’re in the burn unit,” Cary explained. “Almost died. I woke up and looked at my mom, like, whoa, what are you doing here?”

Cary, who is from Oakland, lost both his legs and his right arm because of his injuries. He has no recollection of the accident.

But, thanks to Brazier, whose son is also a triple amputee, Cary got professional assistance for his dreadlocks. During his more than 20 years as a barber in Sacramento, Brazier has served a diverse client population.

“I let him know I can do white hair and Black hair. And then I let him know about my son,” Brazier said.

Dreadlocks are a hairstyle in which strands of hair are intentionally matted and left to grow into long, ropelike strands. During his 80 days in the hospital, much of that time in a coma, Cary’s hair had grown nearly two inches. If dreadlocks go untended, the strands of hair can become tangled and matted to the point where they are difficult to comb or untangle, potentially leading to hygiene issues and discomfort.

Brazier said proper care for dreadlocks is more time consuming than for other types of hair.

“There’s nothing easy about dreadlocks. What I’m doing is relocking the hair underneath and then reconnecting to the dreadlock,” Brazier said as he pulled and twisted on Cary’s hair for more than an hour.

Beyond injury with respect for shared humanity

But Cary doesn’t let his situation get him down.

“I’ve got two missing legs,” he said, “but there’s always somebody out there doing worse. I can’t look down and feel sorry for myself.”

Cary is one of roughly 20 patients in the hospital who have benefitted from Brazier’s encouraging words, expertise and generosity.

Some may see a hairstyle, but I see an act of caring for a fellow human being beyond their injuries or illness and a beautiful gesture of respect for our shared humanity.

— Jennifer Baron, chief experience officer, UC Davis Health

“We are so fortunate to have Mr. Brazier on our team. He is a role model for us all,” said Jennifer Baron, UC Davis Health’s chief experience officer. “When someone finds themselves in our care, they do not stop being a person. Mr. Brazier’s service exemplifies the impact we all can have when we extend beyond our roles and allow kindness to lead the way. Some may see a hairstyle, but I see an act of caring for a fellow human being beyond their injuries or illness and a beautiful gesture of respect for our shared humanity.”

Brazier likes to talk to Cary about his son, a young man who defies his disability. He’s back in college, relearning how to play the bass guitar and teaching amputees how to snowboard.

“Jake is still figuring his path out, but he wants to use his life to help other people,” Brazier said. “I make sure that I give hope to every patient and family.”

As he brings hope to patients, Brazier honors UC Davis Health nurses.

“The nurses at UC Davis, in my opinion, are the best in the world.”

[meetmsrightxoxo]

To say February was hell is an understatement. All month with work the customers were extra cranky and super entitled plus it was insanely busy every shift I worked the week of Valentine’s Day! I am also sick with an infection which caused me to spend twelve hours dealing with doctors and going to the emergency room because the stupid urgent care doctor overreacted and sent me there when all she had to do was do a vaginal exam like my primary doctor wanted her to do for me at urgent care in the first place! Ugh.

Time to get back on track with my personal, mental, emotional, and physical growth!

Ten years ago at sixteen years old, I had my first of eight major surgeries and the start of many future hospital stays and emergency room visits. Children’s Hospital Los Angeles and Henry Mayo hospital were basically my second homes. I didn’t have a specific illness causing me health problems. My body and immune system was really compromised and even confused the doctors on what could have been wrong with me. Then while dealing with my severe mysterious health issues and surgeries, I was forced to drop out of high school because the school district refused to work with me because since I “didn’t have a specific diagnosis” that couldn’t give me an IEP yet I had all these doctors notes and surgeries that required me to be hospitalized for at least six days each. At twenty years old while my health was rapidly declining my fiancé died in my house and I was the one to find him dead. I not only became sicker after that, I became a alcoholic after my fiancé’s friends blamed me for his death. I was blacked out drunk for four and a half months. It took my mom threatening to kick me out to make myself get my act together.

However, my health was still declining and the doctors were prescribing me hydromorphone every three hours for pain and was on fentanyl patches. Not only did my body become addicted to IV pain medication, I ended up becoming mentally addicted while my health was declining. In November of 2018 the night of thanksgiving, I desperately needed help to get off the pain medication addict train. The doctors wouldn’t help me get off the pain meds so I decided to quit cold turkey which was very dangerous, don’t ever just stop taking an opioid, you have to wean yourself off of it properly. My brain got so overwhelmed from the withdrawals, I fell into psychosis for three and a half months! My mom even retired from work early because the doctors told her there was a chance I was permanently mentally disabled for the rest of my life.

In case any of you don’t know what psychosis is, you know the homeless addicts you see talking to people that don’t exist on the streets? That’s an example of psychosis. Your brain’s conscious shuts down and your sub conscious basically takes over the drivers seat.

Magically one day after three and a half months of being in psychosis, my brain and my body flipped a switch and I wasn’t horribly sick anymore physically and mentally. Yes, I have to be medicated for anxiety, depression, and PTSD but I’m five million steps away from deaths doorstep now.

I have a job, I am back in school trying to get my diploma, I started this blog and developing a online store, and I’m working with non profits as a foster for animals!

Goodbye hellish February! March is going to be all about making progress working out and developing myself with my personal growth! February was only a bump in the road. Gotta stay focused and move forward!

[bigassheart]

Updated TUA Timeline

A little over a year ago, Aidan posted a timeline for the events of the Umbrella Academy on his Instagram. I posted it on this blog at the time and promised I was going to update my TUA Timeline post with that info. Never did. But I am now! So, here it is. The updated TUA Timeline.

Also, there will obviously be spoilers, so don’t read this if you haven’t watched season 1.  

October 1st, 1989 - The Umbrella Academy kids are born.

1993 - Grace Joins the family. This is according to Aidan’s Timeline. Depending on the time of the year, the kids would be 3 or 4 when this happens. This may or may not be when the kids get names. 

1993/1994 - Vanya forgets about her powers. Vanya also trains with Reginald and is subsequently made to forget about her powers around this time. Though we don’t get a specific date or length of time that Vanya trains, the flashbacks don’t appear to show her training for a super long time. I think a good guess would be less than a year for this training, putting Vanya’s age at 4. (This also matches up with the casting for the young Vanya and young Allison roles, which I used previously to estimate this age/date)

1997/1998 - Klaus is locked in the mausoleum for the first time. I am basing this on the casting for the role of young Klaus, which has him at 8 years old.    However, it’s not quite that simple, because when Klaus is talking to his dad in episode 7, he says that his dad locked him in the mausoleum when he was 13. Complicating matters even further, there is a post somewhere out there that took a screen shot of Reginald’s journal with notes about locking Klaus in the mausoleum. (I have not been able to find that post again, so if anyone knows the one I’m talking about and has a link, I would love to put it in here). The date recorded on those notes is 2001. (I don’t remember the month, but I think it was summer) That would have made him 11 years old. It’s possible that this was just an inconsistency in the writing. Or it’s possible that Reginald locked Klaus in a mausoleum on at least 3 different occasions at age 8, 11, and 13. Possibly more. 

2001/2002 - The Umbrella Academy stops a Robbery  I’m basing this on the fact that all the same actors were used for these scenes as were used in the scene where Five leaves, so they can’t be much more than a year younger than that. 

November 10, 2002 - Five leaves the Academy  According to Pogo in episode 1, Five has been gone for 16 years, 4 months, and 14 days. The date in that episode is March 24th, 2019 (according to Vanya). That means that Five disappeared on November 10th, 2002, a little more than a month after the Umbrella Academy kids all turned 13. (This date is also confirmed on Aidan’s timeline)

(Side-note. Remember when Klaus mentions being locked in the mausoleum when he was 13? That means it probably happened not too long after Five disappeared. Holy Fuck Regi!)

2006(?) - Ben Dies OK, this is only a guess, BUT it’s a good one and if you scroll down to the additional notes at the bottom, you’ll see why. 

2014 - Vanya publishes her book In episode 3, we learn that Vanya wrote her book 5 years earlier. (when they were 24) At this point, Ben is already dead and Luthor has not had his accident yet.

2014/2015 - Luther has his accident We’re not sure how long it takes Regi to send Luther to the moon after his accident (days? weeks? months?) so all we really know is that the accident happens sometime between Vanya publishing her book and the moon trip.

2015 - Luther goes to the moon In episode 6, Luther says that he was on the moon for 4 years, making him about 25 years old when he left. Aidan’s timeline also confirms that Luther went to the moon in 2015. 

March 24th, 2019 - Reginald’s Funeral We know this because they tell Five the exact date. 

April 1st, 2019 - Apocalypse (Dear Commission: Worst April Fools joke ever). 

This Brings us to the present. The members of the Umbrella Academy are all 29, except for Five, who is 58, and Klaus, who spent 10 months in Vietnam and is therefore 30 now. 

Additional Notes on the Timeline: 

Five in the Future Five finds Delores pretty soon after the apocalypse (again, same actor, so I’m figuring a year leeway at most). He tells Klaus that he was with Delores for 30 years. That would make him about 43 when The Handler shows up. When Five gets back to the present, he gives a very specific amount of time he has been gone: 45 years. This means he spent 15 years working for the Comission, making him 58 at this point. Five also traveled through history extensively while working for the commission. His last mission had something to do with the Kennedy assassination, which would put him in 1963.  (Quick note on this one - Someone commented on this post a while back with a correction and I was going to go back and do more research so I could correct these numbers, but now I can’t find the post and it’s been so long that I can’t remember what the correction was. So, if these numbers look off, let me know and I will fix it)

1968 - Klaus travels back in time to the Vietnam War Historical Context: This is 3 years after the first American troops arrived in Vietnam and 5 years after Kennedy was assassinated. Nixon was elected in 1968. This was also the year of the Tet Offensive, a massive campaign by the North Vietnamese Army to push the US troops out of the country and ferment rebellion among the South Vietnamese people. This was the big turning point in the war and marked the beginning of the US troops’ defeat. This was also the year of the My Lai Massacre, where the US Army murdered more than 500 civilians in the city of My Lai. This incident was covered up for a year before the American press found out about it.  

Finally, the reasoning behind my guess that 2006 is the year Ben died: 

Klaus mentions that Ben died “young and tragic”

Everyone left the house after Ben died, according to Vanya.

In episode 3, Alison says that they left their mom alone for 13 years. (13 years ago, they would have been 16) We don’t know how quickly everyone left, if it took days, weeks, or even years, so it’s possible that 13 years ago was when Alison left specifically. It could be that everyone was gone by that date. Or it could be that this is when everyone started leaving. 

Diego mentions moving out at 17. Again, everyone left after Ben died, so it would have happened before that. 

Ben’s statue does not have a date on it, but obviously he would have had to be at least the same age as he is depicted there.

We also have the following portraits sequence in episode 1 that was used to show Five’s disappearance and Ben’s death. Here are all 4 portraits.

Portrait 1 is done when they are all 12 or 13 years old. Everyone looks about the same age in portrait 2, so I’m assuming it Reginald had it commissioned right after Five disappeared. It would therefore make sense that portrait 4 was done right after Ben died. There are clearly several years age difference between portraits 2 and 3. It also looks like there may be another year or so age difference between portraits 3 and 4. Because of this, I would argue that the children are at least 15 years old in the final portrait. Therefore, Ben dies at age 15 or 16.

Last bit of evidence is Aidan’s timeline. Now, the year for Ben’s death is blacked out, BUT we can see the general shape of the numbers. The first number is clearly a 2, so we know that it’s not just a bunch of 0′s as a place holder. The last two numbers are rounded at the top and the bottom. In the font they are using, that gives us these possible years: 2003, 2006, 2008, 2009. 

The placement between 2002 and 2015 is just a little past the middle point, so at first I figured that would mean the year was 2009. HOWEVER, that would mean he died at age 20. The other kids definitely don’t look 20 in the portrait after Ben dies and this doesn’t match up with the comments Allison and Diego make about leaving when they were still in their teens. Also, if you look at the timeline for earlier years, the same space between dates is used across the board, whether those dates are 4 years apart or 9 years apart. 

Conclusion: I think Ben died in early 2006 (making him 16). 

And that’s all I’ve got so far.

If anyone else has more clues for the timeline, please add them to this post. 

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ [Thanksgiving Special! 🦃]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 4,439

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“Oh, oh, oh, it’s Thanksgiving, we’re gonna have a good time. With the turkey ey! and mashed potatoes ey!. We are gonna have a good time. It’s Thanksgiving~” Nicole Westbrook, “It’s Thanksgiving”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Oh look, the Author’s Note is at the top this time. I bet you’re thinking, ‘Well shit, this can’t be good!’ And you’d be right 😂 Okay so, I wanted to write a special for Thanksgiving right and I had these plans to make it this shit fest of just absolute crack and humor right. WELL if you know anything about me you know that I go back to angst by default. Like, you know how when you play online games, sometimes your settings just reset on their own and then you gotta go and turn off the music and turn the subtitles back on and why the fuck is PVP ticked on?? That’s basically me okay. I auto default back to angst unless I changed the settings again lmfao

So, I started this off, full fucking intent on being funny right. Yeah, no. Runaway while you fucking can. It got so fucking heavy in the middle and it’s just… I’m sorry bro. That’s all I can say. It might make you cry? I mean, I’m a sensitive lil bitch and I cried while I wrote it sooo~ But fear not! I gave it a cheerful, happy and somewhat enlightening/inspiring ending?? At least I think so anyway… Also, you don’t have to celebrate Thanksgiving to enjoy this! Oh yeah, and don’t @ me about facts, I literally used Wikipedia because I’m an uncultured fuck that knows nothing about Thanksgiving even though I live in the USA lmao Don’t fucking @ me about the song I chose either 😂 I ain’t adding that shit to the playlist tho.

So yeah! Read this shit, cry into your snuggie or your dog that looks like a mop and then go enjoy some turkey or hug your mum. Don’t forget to reblog this chapter because I’m a hoe for them reblogs ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

☔ Rain

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The door to class 1-A slammed open with so much force, it bounced off the wall and came back, stopped only by a gloved hand. An obnoxiously loud voice filled the room, “Are you ready, kids?!”

“Aye aye, captain!” I jumped up, automatically answering only to curse myself a moment later when he smirked. “Bitch, this ain’t Spongebob!!”

He clicked his tongue and gave me double finger guns. “But you responded!”

I slumped into my seat in frustration.

Present Mic approached the board, picking up a piece of bright orange chalk before writing a word on the board in English: Thanksgiving. He slapped his palm under the word, making several pieces of chalk fall to the floor. “We’re going to be talking about the meaning of Thanksgiving in Western Countries, most notably in the United States!”

“Sir!” Iida’s hand shot into the air.

“Thanks for calling, listener! What is your request?!”

Iida stood tall. “With all due respect, sir, we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in Japan, we celebrate National Labor Day.”

“You’re correct… almost! Many people consider National Labor Day to be Japan’s Thanksgiving! Plus, I’m your English teacher, so why not take this time to talk about a wonderful holiday where you get to stuff your face with as much food as you can handle without being looked at like a weirdo?!”

“It doesn’t matter what you do,” I commented blankly. “People will always think you’re a weirdo, cockatiel.”

“Hey, aren’t you American, Winchester?” Kaminari questioned, tilting his head back to look at me.

I shrugged. “My mom was American, but I was born in Japan. I mean, Gramps taught me English and we had a small dinner every Thanksgiving to ‘celebrate my heritage’ or some shit, but I don’t really know the details about the holiday.”

“Which is what I’m here for!” He slapped the board again, giving up a grin. “Now pay close attention, listeners! In America, Thanksgiving occurs on the fourth Thursday of November every year! In Western Countries, this holiday is known to be the moment to thank the Native American people for helping European pilgrims to survive their first winter in the United States! Typically, this is a day when families come together from across the country to be with their loved ones and feast!”

I hummed. “Gramps used to always make me watch these American pageants where grade-schoolers put on plays reenacting the interaction between the Pilgrims and the Native Americans. I remember one year, this kid was dressed in a fucking black trash bag stuffed with newspaper.”

“Plays are very popular in schools all across the states!” He nodded his head. “Can anyone tell me what year that Thanksgiving became a federal holiday in the USA?” He cupped his ear, but the only thing he got in response was a cricket that had snuck into the room a week ago to avoid the approaching chill settling over Japan. That fucker is really good at hide-n-seek because we still can’t find him and he’s at the back of the room so it’s like he’s in my fucking ear. “That’s right, the year is 1863! Before that, it was celebrated off and on since 1789 but the third president, Thomas Jefferson, just wasn’t feeling the holiday so he put a stop to it!”

“Seems suspect,” I responded.

“Now, who can tell me about the First Thanksgiving?!”

Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp.

My eye twitched and I turned in my seat, eyes scanning the back wall. Where the fuck is that goddamn cricket?! I swear to Deadpool I’m gonna roast that bitch when I finally fucking find it.

“Right again, my impressionable listeners! The First Thanksgiving was created by the Pilgrims after their first harvest in the New World in October 1621! The feast lasted a total of three days and, according to one attendee named Edward Winslow, there were one-hundred-forty-three rockin’ attendees – ninety Native Americans and fifty-three Pilgrims!” He continued to drone on about the history of Thanksgiving in the states, listing off several different dates and names I couldn’t be bothered to remember.

I mean, History is cool, I guess, but when am I ever gonna need to know this stuff to function as a member of today’s society? Especially here in Japan, where American norms aren’t focused on at all? Plus, that fucking cricket is all I can think about!

“By the way, there will be a test on this and if you fail, you get remedial lessons with me, your chart-topping host!!”

Oh, fuck me.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

I stepped out into the chilly night, my breath coming in puffs of smoke as I walked. Aizawa didn’t like us to leave the dorms after dark, but there was no specific rule about it as long as we stayed on campus. It was two in the morning, and I had been tossing and turning in my bed since I got there. It hadn’t bothered me at first when Mic brought up Thanksgiving, but now that it was just a couple days away, I’m starting to get restless.

This would be my first Thanksgiving without Gramps…

I fell onto the icy cold stone bench, letting my head fall back to stare up at the navy sky. It looked like ribbons of velvet, bright stars dotting across it like sequins caught under the light. The moon was a perfect crescent.

“Jen?”

I glanced over, seeing Zuku with his arms wrapped tight around his body. Even with the thick sweater he wore, it was obvious he was cold. I patted the bench beside me and he sat down, letting me throw my arms around his body. I focused on my quirk, raising my body temperature to warm him up. “Why are you awake?”

“I got up to use the bathroom and spotted you out the window.” He frowned up at me, his brow furrowed. “You look so… sad. What’s wrong?”

My grip tightened around him and I smiled sadly. “I guess I am a bit sad… This is my first Thanksgiving without Gramps, so… it kinda hurts, you know?”

“Oh, I see… I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Just something you gotta deal with, ya know? It’s life, and life is full of unfairness.”

“Will you… tell me about it?” He asked softly, playing with his fingers in his lap. “About what the two of you did each year? If it’s not too painful, I mean…”

“I’d love to,” I ruffled his hair and closed my eyes. “Let’s see – Gramps thought it was important for us to celebrate Thanksgiving because my mother was American. ‘It’s part of who you are, kitten, so we must celebrate!’ is what he’d always tell me. He spent the first five years learning everything he could about the holiday because he wanted it to be authentic and at age five, he started hosting a small feast for the two of us each year.”

“It sounds like he loved you a lot.”

“Yeah… Yeah, he did. We were each other’s world, the only two people we had in life. It was just us against the world!” I chuckled, but it held no humor. “Gramps was a hell of a good chef. He always used to attribute that to the fact that he worked for near six years in a restaurant with his father before the man died and the place had to be sold. Cooking reminded him of a simpler time, so he took pride in everything he cooked. Now that I think about it… that was the first time I met Skye and Heather.”

“Friends of yours?”

“Nah, they made my life hell growing up.” I waved my hand. “I don’t think they remembered this, but I met them once when I was seven. They lived a couple blocks down from us and Gramps had met them on several of his midday walks. Skye was half-Japanese on her mother’s side, while her dad was American and Heather was full American but her family moved to Japan just a year or two previously. Since Gramps wanted to make Thanksgiving as authentic as possible, he went to them for advice. Sky’s father had asked his grandma back home to send a few of her recipes for the holiday and that’s when I met Skye for the first time. He stopped by on his way to work to drop them off and she was with him, but she took one look at me and turned her nose up.”

“You were bullied?” He asked softly, lowering his head. “I never would have thought that.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t start until I was twelve.” I chuckled. “Anyway, we didn’t have much money to work with, but he saved up with every paycheck for months in advance. Just small amounts from each check and then the week before Thanksgiving, he’d take the money he saved and go all out, buying a Turkey, potatoes, pumpkin pie, the works. Some of the shit he couldn’t even get in our town, he had to travel to specialty shops or order the ingredients online from overseas. I kept telling him it was too much work, but he was a stubborn old man.”

Izuku shifted in my arms, his head on my shoulder. “Tell me more about him,” his voice was soft and growing husky as sleep started to claim him.

I hummed softly. “He liked what the day symbolized – families coming together to be thankful for the people in their lives and for the things they were gifted with. To be honest, I often wondered as a child if he regretted raising me, but I knew that was wrong as I got older. It was almost like… raising me gave him a purpose, a reason to face every day with a smile. And I guess in a way… he was the same for me. I remember it so clearly, waking up at one in the morning on Thanksgiving day to sounds in the kitchen. I’d sneak down the hallway, careful of that stupid ass board on the right that always creaked when you stepped on it. And there he was, seeming to radiate warmth and happiness as he bustled around the kitchen getting all the dishes ready for that day.”

I smiled, my hands fisting around his jacket as I took a shaky breath. “He always wore that stupid ass apron I gave him on his birthday in fifth grade. It was this god awful snot yellow color with lime green stripes. If you stared at it too long, you’d go fucking cross-eyed. And it had this… hell, even to this day I don’t know what it was. I think it was a Rhino in a chef’s hat but I guess it coulda been a hippo? Or a fat giraffe with a short neck. He was convinced it was a Thanksgiving Zebra, but I still think he’s nuts. There’s no way that was a damn Zebra, and I would literally list the reasons why it couldn’t be, but he’d just listen intently with a bright smile, nodding his head to show that he was listening. And once I was done ranting, he’d pat my head and simply say, ‘Thanksgiving Zebras are quite special’. I swear he was batty.”

Zuku chuckled. “What makes a Zebra a Thanksgiving Zebra?”

“They have to be fat as fuck apparently. And orange. At least I think it was orange. It coulda just been a really dark yellow. I’m telling you, this apron was all kinds of wrong! I will never understand what I was thinking when I looked at that thing in the store and was like, ‘This is feckin’ awesome, he’s gonna love it!’. But he did love it, wore it every time he cooked, even on the rare occasions we had guests over. He wore it without shame and always with a smile.”

“Because it was from you, so it was special.”

“Hmm, probably, yeah.” I sighed deeply. “Come on, let’s get you to bed, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I wanted to hear more stories,” he pouted, but he was clearly having trouble holding his eyes open.

“I promise to tell you some more later, okay?” I stood up, putting my arms under his body and lifting him into my arms. He snuggled closer, mumbling something under his breath before sleep finally claimed him. I held him closer, feeling my eyes sting with tears, but I forced them back. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t cry, not until I’ve earned the right to do so.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Hey, Jen, wait up!”

I paused in the hallway, glancing over my shoulder. Ryuu was dodging students as he headed toward me, smiling brightly. When he finally reached me, he threw his arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. I chuckled, hugging him back. “Hello to you, too. What’s up?”

“Are you busy?” He questioned, pulling away.

“Uhh, I got a shit-ton of homework that I probably won’t do and might accidentally burn but that’s about it.” I grinned.

He huffed, putting his hand on his hip. “You better not! You’re not allowed to get kicked from the hero course because you refuse to do your work.”

“Yes, mother.”

He nudged my shoulder but I didn’t miss the way his lips twitched up. “What do you say we hang out at the library for a bit and work on it together?”

I hummed. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to lure me away, Hiryuu Rin~”

“As if,” he teased, tugging on my hand. “Come on, let’s get to it!”

“But learning is so boring~”

“You won’t be a hero with that attitude~”

“Last time I checked, pros don’t have to go around dividing letters with numbers to defeat villains,” I grumbled, throwing my head back.

He hummed. “True, but what if you come across a math villain?”

“Punch him in the dick.”

He sweatdropped. “What if he has hostages and he’ll only release them if you solve his math problems?”

I looked at him blankly. “What are the actual chances of that fucking happening, Ryuu?”

He huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “It could happen!”

I poked his inflated cheek with a chuckle. “Anything is possible, I guess.”

Ryuu led me to the back of the library, settling down in the corner. The next few hours were spent taking turns on our homework assignments. I was able to help him with a couple subjects, while he had my back for some of the harder ones, like math. And then there was physics, which left us both fucking stumped.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The librarian peeked her head around a large bookshelf, her tired, dull eyes landing on us. “Library’s about to close. Time to leave.”

I glanced out the window and clicked my tongue. “Damn, we were here for a while. It’s dark out.”

He nodded, stuffing his books into his bag. “They say time flies when you’re having fun, but…”

“We weren’t having fun at all,” I pointed out and he shrugged, stifling a yawn.

“Can I come back to your dorm?”

“Ho~? I didn’t know you were so forward, Ryuu.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes, rubbing his arms as we stepped out into the cold.

“I was thinking more along the lines of hot chocolate and a movie.”

“Well, that’s no fun.”

“Just what were you thinking…” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head at my grin. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know!”

The walk to 1-A’s dorm passed in comfortable silence, Ryuu practically glued to my side as he soaked up the warmth from my body. I wonder if his body reacts negatively to the cold because of his reptile-like quirk. I should ask him about that later.

We stepped inside and I immediately froze in the doorway, my eyes wide.

Ryuu took his shoes off, looking back at me curiously. “Jen? What’s wrong?”

“I, uh…” I swallowed hard, covering my mouth and closing my eyes. As soon as I stepped into the building, the smell of food had wafted to my nose, almost as if it were waiting at the door to tease me. It smells just like… like the house did every Thanksgiving morning. It’s the exact same smell.

A hand rested on my shoulder, Ryuu looking at me with worry. “Do you feel sick?”

“No, I just…” I took a breath, forcing a smile as I tried to ignore the smell. “Sorry, just remembered something.”

“Are you sure? You look pale…”

I chuckled, pushing past him. “I was born pale. You up for grabbing the hot chocolate and heading to my room for the movie? Not really in the mood for socializing.” I stepped into the kitchen and froze for the second time. What the fuck?

“If you’re not in the mood for socializing, that might be a problem, Winchester.” Kirishima grinned.

“You better fucking get in the mood, bitch!” Katsuki scowled, his face twisted up.

“Welcome home, Jen.” Izuku greeted, brightly.

“Huh, class A certainly loves going over the top for everything, don’t they?!” Monoma laughed, but it didn’t have its usual mocking undertone to it.

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you guys,” Kendo smiled, tilting her head.

My eyes scanned the faces of classes A and B, all stuffed into the kitchen around the table that had been covered in various dishes of food – turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole… Am I dreaming? I don’t… I can’t…

Ryuu embraced me, his hand finding my cheek. “You’re crying…”

“What? No, I -” I lifted my hand, wiping at my eyes. I am crying. I’m crying in front of both classes. They’re supposed to look at me and be reassured and feel safe, how can they do that if I’m crying my eyes out? Why am I even crying?

Momo and Ashido rushed over to me, pushing Ryuu away as they fussed over me, squishing me between them. “We’re sorry, we should have asked first!”

“Yeah, don’t cry, Jen!” Ashido squeezed me tighter.

“I don’t… know why I’m crying…” I sobbed, rubbing at my eyes furiously but the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Izuku smiled sadly as he approached, pulling my hands away from my face. “All Might thinks you haven’t properly grieved for Gramps. That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to do this, to give you a chance to… to… properly grieve and to realize… to realize that you’re not alone!” His shoulders shook as his eyes filled with tears.

“Damn it, Deku! You’re supposed to make her feel better not start crying with her!!” Katsuki slammed his hand on the table, the silverware rattling.

“Can I… have a minute, please?” I asked softly.

The two girls exchanged a look before hesitantly pulling away. I bowed my head and stepped out of the kitchen, heading back out through the doorway. As soon as it clicked, I leaned back and slid down, my body shaking from the effort it took to hold back the rest of my tears.

‘Remember, kitten, life isn’t always easy. More often than not, you will face hardships and pain that will be so bad, you will begin to question why it has to be that way. However, just as happiness is often fleeting, so, too, is sadness. You may think that crying makes you a weak person, but I assure you it does not. Crying is a sign that you’ve been strong for too long, and there is no shame in it. Don’t be afraid to show your emotions, kitten. They are not your weakness, they are your strength.’

“Young Jen?”

“Toshi…” I sobbed, tears flowing down my cheeks as my body shook.

Warmth flooded me as I was brought into a strong chest, arms wrapped tight around me. A tired voice sighed from somewhere behind him, “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Shouta…”

He kneeled beside us, his hand gently rubbing the top of my head. “Sorry, I should’ve stopped them.”

I shook my head. “No, I… I just…”

Toshi rubbed my back comfortingly. “When young Midoriya came to me and told me about his conversation with you the other night, I saw this as a teaching moment. He wanted to get together with the rest of your class, as well as class B, to have a Thanksgiving dinner in honor of your Gramps. I knew this would be hard for you, but I was sure that it was the right thing to do. You accepted the fact that he was gone, but you never grieved for him, did you?”

I shook my head, clutching his sweater between my fingers.

“When we lose someone we love, closure is important for us to heal and move forward. And… I worry that you might feel alone in this new world, but you have impacted those around you, even those from class B. They were more than happy to help out when young Midoriya explained things to them.” Toshi pushed me backward, grasping me by the shoulders and giving me his signature smile. “You are surrounded by people who love you, my dear Jen. Never forget that.”

And I smiled back, even with the tears still falling from my eyes.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

When I returned to the kitchen twenty minutes later, several worried eyes snapped to me, no doubt noticing my red and swollen eyes, but I smiled brightly at them to ease their worries, stepping aside to let the two teachers inside.

“Hey, All Might made it!” Kaminari cheered.

“And Aizawa-sensei, too!” Kishima grinned.

“Does that mean we can eat now? I’m fucking starving,” Katsuki complained, his arm thrown over the back of the chair as he glared at the ceiling.

“Yes, let’s dig in!” Momo clapped her hands excitedly and the room sprung to life, everyone squeezing into the chairs around the table. Not everyone could fit, of course, and they ended up sitting off to the side or on the counters. All Might himself took up two and a half seats as he sat at the head of the table, laughing and chatting with the students as he told them stories from his youth.

I sat at the opposite end, between Shouta and Izuku, both of whom kept glancing at me with worry, though the greenette wasn’t trying to hide it like our teacher was. I chuckled, taking each of their hands with my own. “Thank you for this. It really means a lot to me.”

“Of course!” Izuku squeezed my hand, giving me a bright smile. Aizawa didn’t say anything, but he squeezed my other hand.

“You Sparky fuck, that turkey leg was mine!!”

“Huh? I don’t see your name on it, Bakugo.”

“Do you wanna die?!”

“Ahahaha! What deplorable manners class A has! Pathetic!”

“Be quiet, Monoma!”

“So many beautiful girls packed into one room, I just wanna touch them…”

“You’re disgusting!”

“Can you pass the cranberry sauce? Ribbit.”

“Here you go, frog girl!!”

“You’re too loud, Tetsu!”

“Hey, All Might, what was your favorite thing about America when you lived there?”

“That’s easy, young Kaibara! I loved seeing the -”

“Hey, you guys started without us!!” The room turned their attention to the doorway where Midnight, Gran and Present Mic stood. Midnight, who had spoken, huffed in annoyance. “There better be a turkey leg left!”

“Itps mjinre!” Katsuki mumbled around the turkey leg that he had stolen from Kaminari.

“You little brat, give it here!” She demanded, nearly jumping across the table to tackle him. His eyes grew wide and he took off, yelling obscenities at her as she chased him around the kitchen.

Gran approached me, putting her hand on my shoulder and smiling kindly. “Happy Thanksgiving, deary.”

I looked around the room, watching the chaos that was ensuing around me. And I smiled, my heart full of happiness and warmth. Things haven’t been easy, and I’m sure the road ahead of me is far from clear, but I’m surrounded by people that care about me, that I care about. Gramps… wherever you are right now, I want you to know that I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me. These idiots may not be entirely sane and they may drive me up a wall sometimes but… they are home. My home.

“Hey, hey!” Mic raised his voice, making the glasses rattle. “Let’s go around and say what we’re thankful for! Start us off, Uraraka!”

She pulled a surprised face at suddenly being called before tilting her head and smiling. “I’m thankful that we can all be here together!”

“Excellent! Iida, you next!”

“I’m thankful to be with friends during this time of giving thanks!”

“That’s the same as what Uraraka just said but good job! Let’s keep this train a-rollin’, folks!”

“I’m thankful for music.”

“Boobs. Definitely boobs.”

“I’m thankful Bakugo didn’t kill me for that turkey leg…”

“I’m thankful that everyone here is so manly!”

“I’m thankful I’m not sitting next to Mineta…”

“Anime and manga, definitely.”

“I’d be thankful if this bitch would stop chasing me!!”

“And I’d be thankful if you’d give me that turkey leg you brat!”

“I’m thankful that all of you dears are healthy~”

“Hah, I’ll be thankful when class A finally goes down!”

“I’ll be thankful when I don’t have to babysit Monoma anymore…”

“I’m thankful I got to meet Kirishima!!”

“I’m thankful that I sparkle so beautifully. I am magnifi -”

“I’m thankful for this awesome food!”

“What about you, Jen?” Izuku asked, curiously.

“Me?” I hummed as several people looked at me expectantly. I grinned brightly. “Ain’t it obvious? I’m thankful for tacos!”

Zuku sweatdropped. “I shoulda guessed…”

“Well, you stick to your guns, at least, young Jen!”

“Speaking of,” I looked Zuku dead in the eye, my expression deadly serious. “Where the fuck are my tacos, bro?”

His body tensed and he swallowed hard. “Um, I… I didn’t see any mention of tacos when I was researching Thanksgiving…”

I clicked my tongue. “That’s fucking shameful, Zuku. No holiday is complete without tacos.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

I grinned, ruffling his messy hair. “Make sure you don’t forget next year, ‘kay?”

His face lit up and he nodded. “Of course!”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

「“Give thanks for a little, and you will find a lot.” – Hausa Proverb」

「“People cry, not because they’re weak. It’s because they’ve been strong for too long.” – Johnny Depp」

「“Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.” – William Shakespeare」

「“Love doesn’t make the world go ’round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.” – Franklin P. Jones」

「“We fall, we break, we fail. But then, we rise. We heal. We overcome.” – Unknown」

[pug gif]

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

▸ Forward

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[the-apples-were-monitored]

She tried to start a lynch mob using the old white lady trick of “two black men demanded drugs then stole my money and phone” as a cover up for murdering her son. Don’t let this slide, I’m literally begging you. Not this time. 

This boy was nonverbal, so when he was heard screaming he couldn’t explain to people that his mom was trying to kill him. They only realized after she took him to another canal to drown him that she’d been trying to kill him the first time. Because you guys don’t listen to us. You don’t believe us. You believe the people who do this to us. We end up dead because many of us don’t have a voice and you won’t raise yours with us. You say “he’s in a better place” instead of making this a better place for him

(Article from 23rd May, 2020)

This happens so often. I’m lucky to be alive because I was abused horrifically by people who were trying to “cure” me. Don’t believe me that this is common?

The Autistic Self-Advocacy Network (an organization I actually support, as opposed to Autism Speaks) reports that “In the past five years, over 600 people with disabilities have been murdered by their parents, relatives or caregivers.”

Earlier this year, an 8-year-old autistic boy was murdered by his father who had sole custody of him. He called the child a “piece of shit” two days before the child died in a freezing New York City garage in the dead of winter. His father said after the death that he’d been through “more stressful things”. They had home video footage of him beating his children. 

His name was Thomas Valva

In 2018, a 5-year-old boy with “ fragile X syndrome, pervasive developmental disorder, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, impulse control disorder and dysphasia” was the subject of 11 different complaints to child services because of suspected abuse, but as was true in my case no action was taken. He died of asphyxiation and a drug overdose. “Brayson suffered a broken arm, broken femur and numerous burns and bruises in the years before his death, court records state. Price withdrew Brayson from school a month later. It was October. By November, he was dead.” (Classic abuse tactic, isolating the victim.) When child services investigated her prior to the death, the mother claimed he couldn’t feel pain.

“Prior to his death, Price googled "Risperidone overdose" multiple times, according to the court transcript. Ingalls searched multiple phrases, including "beat child with fragile X abuse, I want to kill my autistic child, painful ways to die (and) most painful torture."

Ingalls told Price via text message that he hated her son, wanted to buy a ticket to see Brayson take his last breath and thought she should "kill him while he is young and do something with your life before he robs you of any chance of ever being happy or being anything other than a stay-at-home retarded caregiver,"”

really indicative of how you see us, guys

His name was Brayson Price

here we have a woman who is anonymous and said she was “overwhelmed and felt totally alone after her child was diagnosed with autism.” (Like cry me a fucking river, Karen.) Pled not guilty by insanity. She googled suicide attempts and mothers who killed autistic children in the 48 hours before she smothered her 3 year old daughter with a Minnie Mouse pillow. She was convinced the child’s form of autism was “more severe” than it was...which...okay are people who cover this story expecting me to believe it would be justified if it WAS more severe?

Her name wasn’t printed, but she’s not forgotten.

Here we have a Tennessee mother covering up her husband’s abuse and murder of her 5-year-old autistic son

His name was Joe Clyde Daniels

Think this is getting depressing? It’s state enforced

Up to 50% of people killed by police have registered disabilities

911 Can Be a Death Sentence for Blacks in a Mental Health Crisis

Last year, a non-verbal autistic man became agitated and shoved an off-duty police officer when in line for samples at Costco in California. His parents tried to apologize and explain, but the police officer fired on them 10 times - killing him and wounding his parents. No charges were pressed.

His name was Kenneth French

We have a manslaughter charge for a cop killing a 6 year old boy? At least he got 40 years for it?

His name was Jeremy Mardis

I don’t know how many times we have to tell you this before you believe us, but our lives are not worthless. Regardless of what “level of functioning” we’re at (which is already a ridiculous metric because I’m apparently considered high functioning even when I barely hold a job), we’re not burdens and we’re not inherently dangerous. People keep saying they’re in a better place now, but that’s just excusing it. Make HERE a better place! Stop letting these news stories slide! Stop spreading thinkpieces by Autism Speaks lamenting over a poor mother who has been burdened with an autistic child and saying she’s so brave to not murder her child! Hell, sometimes you guys make whole documentaries about mothers who murder autistic children SYMPATHIZING with them! And stop calling cops on autistic people having meltdowns, for fuck’s sake! 

Autism isn’t something we suffer from, not inherently! We suffer from the trauma of being forced to live in a world where people abuse and kill us for being different! You keep killing us instead of listening to us! Being non-verbal should NEVER be a death sentence! 

I made some posters just because I, too, sometimes need a catch phrase. Feel free to make more.

(Image: “Autism isn’t deadly, ableism is. Stop passively condoning the murder of autistic people. Hear us. Believe us.”)

(Image: “Autism shouldn’t be a death sentence. Neurodivergent children have a higher risk of being bullied and abused. Black autistic children are at a higher risk of corporal punishment at school. 50% of the victims of police shootings are neurodivergent. Hear us. Believe us.)

(Image: “Silence shouldn’t = death. Non-Verbal autistic children are routinely abused and killed by parents because nobody can hear the cries for help. Non-verbal autistic adults are shot by police because they’re assumed to be dangerous. Hear Us. Believe us.”)

Something for my non-verbal or selectively verbal peeps out there.

(Image: Non-Verbal but not silent. Some autistic people aren’t capable of verbal communication. This doesn’t make them undeserving of life or respect. Others can communicate with text or sign or are selectively verbal. It’s important to learn how to communicate with an autistic person in their specific way and to not force them to conform to yours. Practice conflict resolution. Be patient. Hear us. Believe us.)

For people like me who can speak, or for any allies who will stand with us but not talk over us:

(Image: I don’t take my voice for granted. I lift my voice for all those who can’t speak for themselves. I see you. I’m with you. I respect you. You deserve to be here. Hear us. Believe us.)

(Image: Vaccines don’t cause autism. I literally don’t know how to tell you that those findings were debunked over 2 decades ago and you’re bringing back deadly diseases. Autism won’t kill your child. Measles will. I can’t believe I still have to say this. Hear us. Believe us.)

Anyway, that’s my message. I’m sick of this. Feel free to spread this like anti-vaxxers spread measles, because people DO talk about this, but I don’t see NTS willing to do much about it usually. Unfortunately we do need you on our side to hold yourselves accountable.

And it goes without saying that even though this is an autism specific post, this post is also friendly to other types of neurodivergence. We’re all in this (risk category) together.

[carlisle980]

Thinking a lot of random thoughts right now.

Perhaps, assuming humanity survives COVID-19, we introverts will finally be given the respect we are due. Imagine if we were no longer the butt of every joke. If we were seen as equally valid by the extrovert majority.

It’s strange to see and hear so few planes in the air. I live within 10 minutes of a major airport and there are typically more planes that fly overhead than cars up and down my street. Now there’s not much of either. It reminds me of the days immediately following 9/11.

I’m not worried about getting sick. My life has been one of minimal exposure to people outside my immediate family for the past several years, and now the places I did go have been shuttered.

I worry about my dad, in his late 60’s, who nearly died from botched gallbladder surgery a few years ago and has never quite been the same since. He’s currently working all the hours his employer will give him as he prepares to retire in early May. His job is public-facing and service-oriented, and he has few reserves with which to fight the virus, should he get sick.

I worry about my son. He has reactive airway disease, AKA asthma that only rears its head when he has an upper respiratory infection. Sometimes he’ll get a cold and be just fine; other times he coughs until he throws up, and wheezes, and turns blue. We’re managing his condition proactively and since we switched to this approach he has been so much better. But all it would take is for his dad to be exposed to someone at work (he’s a government contractor; federal employees with the agency he supports have been placed on a maximum telework order but this does not apply to contractors). The four of us who don’t have an underlying lung condition could never get sick and still give it to our little man. I’m terrified every day that my husband leaves the house. Every day resets the 14-day window for the onset of symptoms.

I worry about my Nanny. The one who has survived a spinal collapse, pneumonia, and a heart attack, all since we were together at the end of November. She hasn’t really been home since before Christmas, bouncing between rehabilitation care and hospital. She has just been moved into assisted living (everyone swears it’s only temporary) because she needs to regain a lot of strength before she can go home. Her state was one of the only holdouts not reporting cases of COVID-19 until last weekend. Now, among those that have been reported, there’s a man in his 80s in an assisted living facility who is ill. In a different facility, but the same county as my grandmother. The facility where she is staying has restricted visitors. My mom can’t even go see her right now. This is good. They are examining employees before each shift, making sure they do not have fever or show symptoms. Also good. Except for the fact that asymptomatic people are the ones driving the spread of this damned thing.

All winter I thought ... if we can just get through till spring. It’ll be light again. Birds singing. The earth coming back to life. I’ll be with Nanny and all will be right with the world. Well, the earth is waking up again, but this time it’s hard to find any hope in that. I’m taking pictures of every pretty spring thing. Going to make an album of them and send it to Nanny. I can tell myself that in a couple of months I’ll be sitting on the porch with her, drinking coffee together while we watch clouds move over the bay. But I could be kidding myself.

[hilariesjeffrey]

covid 19 tw

ok I just don’t talk about my personal life on here all that much and im not sure why. It’s my escape from my shitty life but I thought since everything is getting so hectic in the world now I would open up. and I feel like my life is flashing before my eyes, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. as you all know the coronavirus (covid 19) is pretty much everywhere in the world now. the first case of it happened to be in my town, basically in my neighborhood of new rochelle, new york. the first guy who had it happened to be a lawyer from new rochelle who works in manhattan and attends a temple down the street from my house. when I first heard about this, I immediately thought of my dads lawyer. he happens to go to that temple and he lives in new rochelle and works in manhattan. so everything fit the criteria. when I found out his name, everything changed. it was my dads lawyer and i was scared. I knew my dad saw him in november and I had to break the news to my dad since he wasn’t really following that much in depth. he was beside himself. we kept looking up information on him and we found out that he had a really bad cold, that turned into pneumonia and that turned into covid 19. he was in critical condition in a hospital in the city. we found out that his wife and kids and the neighbor who drove him to the hospital all tested positive, but they’re asymptotic. this all happened at the beginning of march. I was shocked to know that someone I knew had it. the first person in my town, my dads lawyer. what are the odds? okay flash forward to last saturday. I work in a restaurant which happens to my family’s restaurant. my moms family. my grandparents started it and now my uncle took it over. it’s been dead over there since everything happened so my uncle told me a week ago to stay home. then the news happened about restaurants closing their dining rooms altogether so I haven’t been to work in a week. monday, my grandpa came down with a bad fever so my aunt and uncle drove him to the hospital (my aunt and uncle live with my grandparents, and one of cousins). they didn’t know what was wrong, I still don’t even know really. but they tested him for the virus and he came back positive. so my aunt and uncle got tested and my uncle got his results back, he’s negative but my aunt and grandma didn’t yet. when they found out about my grandpa, they’ve been self quarantining. they won’t even let anyone in the hospital because he’s positive. iIt’s insane out there. so we kinda all freaked out. (my dad, mom, and sister). I haven’t left my house in a week and my mom hasn’t been out of the house in months because she quit her job. but my dad goes out and runs errands and does shit every day. he goes grocery shopping and gets food and litter for my cats, so he’s out a lot. flash to last night, my sister took her temperature and it was mild (100 I think). the problem is, my grandpa often comes to the restaurant and my sister also works there a couple nights a week so she saw my grandpa last week. I haven’t seen him in I believe to be two weeks. but my mom may have seen him over a week ago? she went to their house. I saw my grandma last friday. but if my grandpa has it, there’s a very good chance my grandma does. but if my sister tests positive, there’s a very good chance she got it from my grandfather. anyway, there’s a testing site in my town about 15 minutes from my house and my mom wants everyone in my family to go today. (me, my sister, my dad). my dad wants to take my sister, he’s saying if she sits in the backseat, he’ll be “fine”. but I told him that his lawyer, the person who drove him to the hospital, that’s how he got it. my dad is just the most stubborn man I’ve ever met and he doesn’t take no for an answer. I told my dad to have my sisters boyfriend drive her, because that’s who she’s been with every day for the past 2 weeks, but he’s saying he doesn’t want her to wait any longer and he wants to take her, possibly knowing that she could have it. and if he doesn’t have it and she does, he could get it easily by being in a car together. but he’s saying that it’s a bad idea for all of us to go in a car together, so my dad and my sister are going right now as I type this and my mom and I will go later. this is an issue in itself because neither I or my sister have our driver licenses so we can’t drive ourselves there. that’s another reason why I’m beating myself up. my dad shouldn’t have to do that. FYI: my best friend just got his results back and he tested positive. I haven’t seen him in person in years but that’s so surreal. he tested positive but his parents and his aunt are negative. these have been the worst couple days of my life. I’m crying all the time, I have severe anxiety and I don’t really know what to do. I’m scared. I want this to be over. I haven’t seen my boyfriend in a week because his mom doesn’t want me to come over or him to come over to my house, because she knows it’s in my town. (he doesn’t live in my town, he lives in an adjacent town, about 15 minutes away). and I just don’t know where to turn. I’m really, genuinely terrified if my dad tests positive. he’s in his 60s, going to be 62 in a couple weeks and I’m scared for him. he hasn’t been to the hospital in god knows how long and if somethings wrong I’m just scared he won’t be able to overcome it. he had asthma growing up and his mother died of cancer and his dad died of a blood disease. I know this may be a triggering post for some, but I felt like I had to share what’s going on. I’m sure this is basically a run on sentence since I’m crying and i don’t know what I’m saying. If you read this far, thank you. I appreciate you all, and I'll keep you updated.

[talix18]

November 21

Yesterday Katelyn called to see if I wanted to hang out. Katelyn is the almost 22-year-old who I call my adopted niece but she’s something more than that. I lived with K and her mom from the time K was 18 months old until she was four-and-a-half so I was her de facto other mom. I know it’s just the slightest approximation of what parenting must feel like but I treasure the memory of her being satisfied with coming to me if Mom wasn’t available. Three-year-old K running towards me when I showed up to pick her up from daycare. The memory of the Christmas when all K wanted from Santa was to see her father and her mother and I couldn’t make that happen – talk about powerlessness. Watching her sing at her high school variety show remembering how I’d been too terrified to sing in front of people…

She inherited some things from me – her opinions and eagerness to share them is probably the big one, but she also, somehow, has come to love Def Leppard (I suspect that’s her boyfriend’s influence). You already know how Def Leppard introduced me to my first boyfriend. I can tell you exactly where I was and who I was with when I heard about the car accident that ultimately took Rick Allen’s arm. I remember that someone who worked at a music store called me to tell me Steve Clarke had died. Def Leppard was my third concert (1st: Asia; 2nd: Stray Cats) – I still can’t believe Mom let me go with Allen and some of his friends at 15. Some people have made-up imaginary friends – mine were real people.

I went up to see K at her mom’s place after work (Kate’s mom and her husband of a year and a week are still on their delayed honeymoon in Tennessee) and we talked about all kinds of things. She said something about Def Leppard touring with Motley Crue, which led me to the Crue documentary I just watched on Netflix over the weekend. I was a fan – saw them open for Ozzy once; had a poster on my ceiling for a while – but the milestones in their lives were vague memories. Of course Tommy was married to Heather Locklear and Vince committed vehicular manslaughter, but that was most of what I knew.

The documentary is an unflinching portrait of the toll drugs took on the band – specifically Nikki Sixx – but that’s not the part that really got to me. I know how addiction works. I had to stop the movie to Google what happened to Vince Neil’s daughter after her cancer diagnosis, which paid off as the next scene opened on her dead four-year-old body laying in the hospital bed. So now I’m having feelings about poor Vince losing his daughter after killing his friend how many years after the fact?

On the way home, after playing a Def Leppard song, the DJ mentioned the tour with Crue and I had to call Katelyn. We are definitely going, I assured her, now that I have even more emotions tied up with these people. I am definitely not thinking about the fact that “Crue called their friends in Def Leppard” to arrange the tour because I assume that means the Leps were also hard partiers and I’d rather not consider all the sordid debauchery that follows along. (Poison is also on the bill, and we’re all down with Bret since Rock of Love. Don’t threaten me with a good time!)

K and I also watched Mean Girls, which I had never seen, and I’m always happy to patch up a hole in my cultural reference knowledge. “Her hair is so big because it’s full of secrets” is everything. Feel free to welcome me to fifteen years ago.

I have to believe the increased meds dosage is making a difference. Tuesday alone I scheduled a doctor’s appointment (colorectal), an ultrasound (thyroid), a dinner/movie date with a friend, a massage, an eye exam, and a dentist’s appointment AND I enrolled for supplemental vision insurance. It seems like a reasonable amount to accomplish in one day, but I’d been putting off some of these appointments for months. Why is it so hard to pick up the phone and call someone? I will never be able to explain it. Trust me – I wish I could help people understand! The best I can do is recognize that I’m functioning more effectively and keep track of what I’m doing that’s different.

Yesterday I committed to flying to Boston to see a friend get married on New Year’s Eve. “Black tie optional”? Hell yeah I want to go hang out in that hotel and see that venue that my amazing friend and her intended are having a black-tie optional shin-dig in! I can’t imagine my lifestyle ever affording me such luxurious splurges on the regular so I need to take advantage of the opportunities when they manifest. Besides, I already have a dress that I got for a black-tie New Year’s Even anniversary party a few years ago; wearing it a second time makes it an even better value! (We don’t discuss how much money I ultimately spend on a wrap and statement earrings.) (Ack! I need to make an appointment with Katelyn for my hair!)

I haven’t seen Karen (the friend getting married) in FIVE years, which seems impossible, but there it is. Karen is one of my original gang of Webpeeps – Webpepes 1.0! Most of us met on a news aggregate website, got to know each other in the forum (4um elites represent), and created a new bulletin board to hang out in. At our peak we had about 150 members but the core group was about 40, and I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at least 30 of us in meatspace.

The first time I met Karen (GreenBeans/GB) was at her then husband’s 30TH (?) birthday party. Rider (PsiDefect), Tim (GasMasher), and I drove my car up to Boston from Philly (Tim and I drove up from MD) to surprise this dude we’d never met, and that cemented my friendship with both Karen and Ted (Law). Their marriage broke up some time ago, which I learned the weekend she and I got together in Orlando with Catrina (CatWritr) and CJ (Hajen). Which was somehow five full years ago.

The first time I met ANY of these nerds was…I don’t even know how long ago at the original Farkoasterfest. I lived with Katelyn and Vanessa at the time and V straight up took pictures of Rider and his license plate when he pulled up to scoop me and head out to Sandusky, OH. I do know I was working at SSA and it was relatively early in my tenure, so early-2000s? It was also probably the first time I spent an entire weekend with people not in recovery since I’d gotten clean. Several hundred miles away with nearly perfect strangers – who thought that was a good idea?

It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Some of the people I met that weekend and after are straight up some of my closest friends. It was my first experience making friends as an adult, which is startlingly difficult to do. My first group of friends that didn’t start in our hometown or on campus or in recovery – people I connected with in a realm where all we had was the words on the screen and our wit.

Places I’ve since hung out with these people include Seattle twice, Cedar Point one or two more times, Northern VA, DC, PA, and Toledo. I’ve seen at least three couples wed and have almost ten kids between them. I dated the guy in Toledo for a few years. I flew out to Seattle for Andrea (BigOrangeCat/TheOtherAndrea)’s 40th birthday party and to visit her in the hospital before she died. We helped Amy (Hisey) mourn the loss of her nearly full-term daughter. We helped Joe (ThedNeedles) deal with his ex keeping his son away from him – some of his helped him with legal aid. We watched each other’s kids grow up and have kids of their own. Norm (Zorgon) just emailed to let me know he was in town (-ish –northern DC suburb) and wanted to connect but was laden with germs – we get together for a meal very few years when work brings him this way. Never let anyone tell you your online friends don’t count.

(Logging back in to the old bulletin board to count heads gifted me with a video of Mike (BitZero) (father of FarKoasterFest) smashing up some obsolete Fark hardware. Good times!)

I reached out to CJ and Cat to see if either one was planning on coming to the wedding to offer the other side of the king-sized bed I’ll be sleeping in in Boston and I’m glad I did. CJ’s got a handful of kids so money is always a concern and I’m paying for the room whether I’m alone or with someone else. We’ll be FaceTiming Cat at midnight and maybe during the ceremony too.

In fact, I’ve been suspiciously functional this week. Monday was meh, but since then I’ve had three good, productive days in a row. I have no specific plans tonight so I could go to a meeting, or I could go home and see if any of this momentum can be channeled into house projects. Coming up with a fictional framing device has given me the opportunity to figuratively walk myself through the necessary steps to get started. So whatever comes of this writing exercise, it’s been worth doing.

[callunavulgari]

YEAR-IN-BOOKS | 2019

So. Last year I read 89 books. The year before that I read 39. The year before that I read 23. This year I have (thus far) read 110 books out of my goal of 100 and will likely finish both The Secret Commonwealth and The Library of the Unwritten before the end of the year. I may even finish another depending on which audiobook I go for next. So I’m gonna talk a lot. Again.

1. a book you loved?

Again, I read a lot of books this year. It was a great year for books. I discovered Brandon Sanderson, which has been amazing. I reread at least two different favorite series, some graphic novels, a few books that would ordinarily be outside of my typical genre. But I’m going to pick Red, White, & Royal Blue, which was probably the one I loved the most. Casey McQuiston, for those of you who weren’t in The Social Network fandom, wrote a really fantastic RPF in like 2011 or so. It was gorgeous and while I’m sad that it was never finished, I can still appreciate the crap out of it. RWARB is a story about the son of America’s first female president falling for the Prince of Wales. It is everything I loved about fics like The Student Prince and Drastically Redefining Protocol and more. It’s best universe 100% and I will probably be rereading it within the next few months because I loved it to pieces. Also, it won both best romance and best debut novel on goodreads by a pretty large margin, which is amazing! 

2. a book you hated?

I think the only book that I absolutely hated this year was The Gunslinger. Which sucks because a lot of people recommended that one pretty highly, but I either reluctantly enjoy Stephen King’s books or I outright loathe them. My review, directly from goodreads, with a rare one star rating:  

“Thing number 1: same guy who did the audiobook recording for The Stand did this one as well. Bad enough. Thing number 2: I forgot how badly Stephen King writes women. I got to listen to this narrator read a scene where a woman has an orgasm because the main character is exorcising a lust demon out of her by shoving a gun into her unmentionables, and then I got to hear someone described as "falling whorishly." DNF at 75%. Sorry. I just could not do it. Falling whorishly was the straw that broke the camel's back.”

3. a book that made you cry?

I definitely cried when I finished The Hero of Ages, which is the third of the original Mistborn trilogy by Sanderson. Without spoiling things... I was definitely crying by the end of it. Might have been crying at the end of the first in the series too. The only other ones I can think of that may have made me sniffle are Everything I Never Told You and To Be Taught, If Fortunate. 

The first because it’s a wonderfully crafted little tale about a family getting torn apart when their daughter dies tragically. The whole thing is pulled wonderfully taut with tension, and each of the character’s snippets into Lydia’s life before her death leads you to more and more discoveries until finally everything comes together seamlessly in the end.

The second because it is a little, little book about a big, big universe and is just so achingly beautiful and big inside that it hurts.

4. a book that made you happy?

I mean, I’m tempted to Red, White, and Royal Blue again because it is 100% the one that made me happiest. I was grinning like an idiot half the time I was reading it. But, because answering the same book for two questions seems cheap when I’ve read over 100, so I’m gonna go with King of Scars, which is the sequel to the sequel of the original Grisha trilogy by Leigh Bardugo. It took the best things about the original series and combined it with the best parts of Six of Crows and left me with a super riveting, fun read.

5. the best sequel?

Gah, I read so many series this year, so this is kind of hard. I have two answers!

The Well of Ascension, which was the second of the Mistborn novels and probably my favorite and The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy, which in my humble opinion was leagues better than The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue. Not that it was bad, I’m just starved for stories about smart sexy ladies who become pirates and flirt with other pretty pirate ladies.

6. most anticipated release for the new year?

Return of the Thief by Megan Whalen Turner is still my answer to this one. The release date got pushed back to August of next year instead of March of this one, so provided it doesn’t get pushed back again - that is 100% my answer. Some others I’m excited about: The Nobleman’s Guide to Scandal and Shipwrecks, which I found out about two minutes ago, the as yet untitled Stormlight Archive #4 which is apparently coming out in November next year, and like six books that don’t have release dates yet so probably won’t come out until 2021. Oh, oh, oh, and The King of Crows, the fourth in The Diviners series, which I forgot was coming out in February!

7. favorite new author?

Easily Brandon Sanderson. Most of my other favorites that I really loved were all authors I’ve read before. Sanderson was my Rothfuss of 2019. Discovering his books changed my whole damn year.

8. favorite book to film adaptation?

I didn’t reread the series this year, but HBO put out their adaptation of His Dark Materials and it has been absolutely amazing so far! I’m blown away by every single episode and can only hope that the second and third seasons will be this good.

9. the most surprising book?

Okay, so there’s this book that I picked up randomly at the library because I liked its cover. It’s called The Hundred-Foot Journey by Richard Morais and it’s about an Indian boy who grows up to become a world famous chef. It’s so, so rich. The detail is wonderful. You can taste the food, feel the sun, be a stranger in a market somewhere in France. It was a true delight of a book and definitely one of my favorites. 

10. the most interesting villain?

I read Codename Villanelle shortly after I got into the TV show, and it was actually a surprisingly good book. She’s a great villain. However, I also read Forest of a Thousand Lanterns, which you don’t even realize is about the evil queen until you’re like halfway through the book. That one was really, really well done and I need to get around to reading its sequel.

11. the best makeouts?

I’m tempted to say Chilling Effect because there’s just something about a sassy space pirate making out with her alien crew member whose skin can make her go into anaphylactic  shock that really appeals to the part of me that shipped Sheppard/Garrus from Mass Effect, but there were two really steamy ones in The Hating Game (elevators) and Ninth House (slightly dubcon-y bit because one character is drugged, but super searing anyway?). 

Also the bit in Red, White and Royal Blue where they make out against a painting of Hamilton in the White House will probably get me every time.

12. a book that was super frustrating?

Again, But Better was a pretty decent book over all. But there were slightly too many pop culture references and listening to an audiobook where the characters are signing along to Blink 182 along with several other songs was a little cringey because the narrator did not actually sing, just kind of singsongy shouted. It was weird.

The Alchemist was also really slow going for such a short book but was over all pretty good.

13. a book you texted about, and the text was IN CAPSLOCK?

I have no real life friends who really read and it is fucking tragic, so the closest I got was recommending a bunch of books to my mom and going off on tangents about how good they were. I think I might have ranted to Nick about a couple of them too.

14. a book for the small children in your life?

I reread The Bartimaeus trilogy again this year and it’s a kid’s book series that I would recommend to literally anybody because it might be my favorite series ever? I also read Lockwood & Co, a kid’s series by the same author who did Bartimaeus, which was fantastic because I didn’t even know he’d written anything since Bartimaeus? It didn’t quite compare, mostly because I adore Bartimaeus way too much, but was still highly entertaining. Spooky kid detectives hunt ghosts! 

15. a book you learned from?

While I did not read a single non-fiction book this year (again, whoops), a lot of books are informative even if they’re fiction. Hell, I learned more about cooking from The Hundred Foot Journey than I have in any cookbook out there.

16. a book you wouldn’t normally try?

Maybe Challenger Deep? I’ve been branching out more, so it’s getting harder and harder to tell which books I wouldn’t normally try. I did read like three exclusively romance novels this year, which was a bit odd for me.

17. a book with something magical in it?

I still say all books are magical. And definitely a lot of the books I read were magical, but probably the one with the most magic was The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern, which was a meticulously crafted love letter to all stories and fairy tales. It was really magical and definitely lived up to The Night Circus. If she keeps up like this, I won’t even mind the decade between publications, because she has a hell of a way with words.

18. the best clothes?

Maybe either The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (the descriptions of her gorgeous silky green dresses made me deeply envious) or Three Dark Crowns (which had neat food and clothes from what I remember)

19. the most well-rounded characters?

All of Sanderson’s stuff has great characters, but Everything I Never Told You is still probably the one with the best. Celeste Ng is really, really good at making you feel each of her characters down to their marrow.

20. the best world-building?

To Be Taught, If Fortunate was very much wow when it comes to the world building. But so was Ninth Gate and The Alloy Era of the Mistborn novels (sequel series to the original series that takes place hundreds of years after the first series). I also read Saga this year, a graphic novel series about a man and his wife on the run from their governments with their baby daughter because their species are in a long standing war and nobody wants anybody to know that they can procreate. That has some fantastic world building.

21. the worst world-building?

Maybe What If It’s Us? I found that one largely boring.

22. a book with a good sidekick?

Definitely any of the Alloy of Law books. Wayne is a wonderful sidekick and all of the other “side characters” in that series are fantastic.

23. the most insufferable narrator?

Ugh, the Gunslinger. Both the character in the book and the person who narrated the audiobook.

24. a book you were excited to read for months beforehand?

I think the only ones I was really excited for head of time were the two Folk of Air sequels by Holly Black and The Starless Sea. I still need to read Call Down the Hawk, and I’m currently reading The Secret Commonwealth, the sequel to His Dark Materials which I’ve been excited about since I learned that it would be a thing.

25. a book you picked up on a whim?

You already know about The Hundred Foot Journey. We Are Where the Nightmares Go and The Monster of Elendhaven were also both randoms that I picked up during the Halloween season that I really enjoyed.

26. a book that should be read in a foreign country?

The Hundred Foot Journey. 100%

27. a book cassian andor would like?

I still don’t know what to make of this question.

28. a book gina linetti would like?

Probably any of the steamy ones? I honestly don’t know.

29. your favorite cover art?

Probably The Ten Thousand Doors of January. It’s very pretty and flowery and the book itself is fantastic. I also really like the cover of David Mogo, Godhunter.

30. a book you read in translation?

I think The Alchemist was the only book I read that was translated from another language.

31. a book from another century?

Ha! North and South was first published in 1854. Other than that the oldest ones I’ve got were written in the 80s (Shards of Honor, Ender’s Game, and The Alchemist) or the 50s (The Two Towers).

32. a book you reread?

This year I reread the Bartimaeus Trilogy, the Temeraire novels (and then finished the last two I hadn’t read yet), Sabriel, and The King of Attolia.

33. a book you’re dying to talk about, and why?

I have clearly talked enough at this point. I think the only one that I loved that I didn’t get a chance to talk about already was Horrorstor, which is a book about haunted Ikea (basically). It’s fantastic and hilarious and spooky and now that I think about it Gina Linetti would probably like it. Oh, and The Bear and the Nightingale trilogy, which was a retelling of an old Russian tale. It was great. 

TLDR; Read Sanderson’s books, Leigh Bardugo’s books, and whatever Casey McQuiston writes for the next 30 years.

[my-wayward-son]

2 months on T-------------------> 7 months on T

I’m late with this post.  Again.  Because I’m doing really shitty.  Again.

First, let me address the obvious: yes, I’ve lost weight. (Well, if you wanna get technical, I weigh the exact same thing as when I started, which I probably shouldn’t).  But beyond that, I don’t want to talk about it.  That change is probably 25% due to testosterone and the tendency it has to aid in the development of lean muscle, and 75% due to other factors.

All the previous changes I’ve noted in these posts are still happening/happening more, such as still more body hair growing/thickening.  There’s really nothing new to report, except that I pass better when I have on glasses and teenage boy clothes (as opposed to professional clothes), but still get a lot of gender neutral and she/her designations mixed in with the he/hims.  

I had a dream last night about correcting my dad (his typical naming convention for me is Laura, I mean, Laur, she, I mean, Laur...) . So he’s trying when he’s in front of me, but it’s obvious he isn’t trying when he’s talking to my mom without me present.  I’m torn between being upset about it and letting it go.  My dad was diagnosed with Aspergers as an adult and he struggles with shifting his perspective.  This is something else I don’t want to talk about, but just know that my far-from-NT-yet-decidedly-allistic ass has a hard time reconciling it.

But anyhow, the transition is going great, and I have no reason to be upset about anything, but I’m upset about everything, and the rest is going under the cut because it’s going to be full of triggers (suicide and ED stuff).

For my whole life I never understood why anyone would want one of those dolls that you can customize to look exactly like you.  My thought was always, ‘what’s so special about me?  I kind of suck.’  I thought so little of myself and my live, even as a little kid, that I would rather pick the princess or the American Girl or whatever with the most interesting story and change myself to match.  Like I’d beg my mom for an outfit the same color as the character’s, or wear sunglasses with the lenses popped out, or only style my hair the same way as the character in order to adapt into that character.  

Of course all those phases were just that, phases.  They were highly tied to the media I consumed, and as I aged, that media changed.  So I was always editing myself to match my current obsession.  I never gave thought to what I was actually like, deep inside.  Like it didn’t matter what my actual personality was.  I hardly even thought about it until the end of high school, and then a series of traumas knocked me down a few pegs, and that sense of self didn’t come back to the surface until mid 2017.

In mid 2017, I went to a 2-week dance convention.  At that time I was living as female, had basically given up on the idea of transitioning, and was just trying to push through as a painfully shy 24-year-old who worked full time and danced part time with a local ballet company.  At the convention, I studied various styles of dance, realized I was extremely untrained in every field but ballet, and spent the entire thing on the verge of tears because I was with students over 10 years my junior in most of the classes.  It was an “all ages” program, but literally all the other adults were in professional level classes for all styles.  I was only in the professional level class for ballet.  I couldn’t wait for the convention to end.  I hated every second of it.  I had a chronic foot injury that made dancing painful (but not dangerous), but I’d always pushed through it because I loved it.  Now I could barely stand to go to class, even back with my regular company.  So I made arrangements to retire. 

I retired from professional dance in May 2018 and had foot surgery in June 2018.  I could dance again, if I wanted to, but I’m not ready yet.  Eventually I might go back as a recreational adult dancer, just taking class from time to time.  But I don’t know.  

I still love ballet, but as of a year ago, ballet was the one thing hanging over me that I hated.  I hated the obligation; I hated the way it tore up my body; I hated the way it made me exhausted and ate up all my spare time. However, I was damn productive.  I wrote so many fics and drew so many pictures, and I went to therapy at least every other week, and sometimes to PT.  I was at the studio approximately 20 hours a week, on top of working 40 hours a week.  But I guess I was so busy and tied to my obligations that I quite literally couldn’t fall apart.  

My uncle died (suicide, marking the 4th attempt and 2nd success in my family) and my granddad died (heart condition), so I had good reason to fall apart.  I was freaked out and sad for a while, but I was also fine.  I was a robot.  When I look back, I realize that the last time I was happy was prior to the 4th of July 2017.  I call that the “Wonder Woman Moment.”  I did a photo shoot for a ballet personal training/nutrition service that dressed me up in WW-esque dancewear.  We blasted Patty Smythe and had a ball.  Even though it was a really feminine thing, it was so much fun, and I had no worries.  It was July 1st 2017.  Before my uncle died, and before my granddad died and before I went to the dance convention.  That’s my last happy memory.

After unpacking some acute issues with grief and anxiety, my therapist started talking to me about my issues with gender ID.  By November 2017 I was thinking about transitioning (I had thought about it before, but never felt it was feasible).  By December, I’d decided it felt right.  I sought out a doctor in January 2018 and had my first appointment in February.  I told my mom on Superbowl Sunday.  Then a month later at my Oscar party, she basically washed her hands of me.

I love film crit and the Academy Awards almost as much as I love fanfiction and ballet and coffee and all the other good things.  I’ve been on the edge of my seat waiting for the 2019 noms to drop.  I know a few of them just from the grapevine, but I haven’t looked them up yet.  I’m still working from my early prediction spreadsheet, even though the actual noms are just a few clicks away.  I’m scared of the feelings that’s going to bring up.

One year ago, all I could think about was getting through the next 6 months and reaching a series of milestones: my company’s production of Alice in Wonderland.  Moving to a new apartment.  My company’s production of Water for Chocolate (an original contemporary ballet choreographed on me and 14 other dancers).  Starting testosterone.  Retiring from ballet.  Foot surgery.  I thought my life would be so much better.

And in a way, it is.  I have the confidence to do random shit, like walk into Autozone and talk to the workers about what is wrong with my car, then help them fix it.  A year ago, I would have panic attacks over things like that.  But a year ago, my mom loved me.  A year ago, I thought I’d have my current job forever.  A year ago, I thought once I got on T, my eating disorder behaviors would go away.

I’ve gained personal confidence, but lost so much else.  Lost my family.  Gained a new one, but still, I lost my relationship with my biological mother and father.  Lost my job satisfaction, which makes me worry that at some point I will have to interview for a new job and integrate with a new company, which is frightening in the extreme.  T has changed my body shape in the way I like, but it’s not magic.  I’m still afraid of eating, and stress doesn’t help.  I’ve also had health complications that add pressure and make me feel run down.  Some is my own damn fault (Hi, I’m Laur and I abuse OTC medications like a rebellious teenager, which is apparently not advisable when also on several prescriptions).  Some is a fluke.  But feeling like shit while also mentally feeling like shit has destroyed me.  I hate my life.  I hate everything.  I don’t see the value in anything.   

I know there’s a Spider-Man: Far from Home trailer out there.  I haven’t seen it.  I don’t know what to expect.  I want to see it.  But I also don’t want time to move forward.  I like the MCU as it is (I like it pre-Infinity War, actually, but nobody asked me, so I won’t belabor you with my opinion).

And that’s a good metaphor for my life right now.  It’s a mess.  I can’t picture anything far in the future, so the light from my proverbial headlights is dim and dull.  I’m afraid of moving forward, so my tires are spinning in place, kicking up mud and dust.   I’m incapable of shifting side to side, so when I do roll ahead a few inches, I hit every obstacle in the path.  If I just changed the lightbulbs, twiddled the steering wheel, took a breath and let myself move, I’d probably be fine.  But somehow that seems like the most impossible choice.  

I could slam the car into one of the cave walls, triggering a rockslide and killing myself.  If I did that, I know it would hurt a lot of people in my life, but it would also fulfill all of my hopes and dreams.   Peace.  Calmness.  Stillness.  Not having to deal with a world that insists on moving forward with the passage of time.  

The most compelling reason is that I can’t find a reason not to.  I wish I was an undergraduate student again, because I want to get a degree in philosophy.  I don’t know why living is so highly valued.  I can’t figure out what makes this “will to live” the correct way of thinking and the desire to die the wrong way of thinking.  Right and wrong are subjective.  They don’t exist, really.  There is not value behind things and thoughts and actions.  They just are.  What’s to say that a lack of serotonin or whatever in a depressed brain is really not normal?  The non-depressed brain may have an excess.  Normal is relative.  Averages don’t mean correct.  Just because most people in the class chose answer B doesn’t mean that it is the right answer to the question.  Just because most Americans are a little overweight doesn’t mean that that’s the healthiest body type.  

Sometimes I really want to try to get well and forge ahead and get my life together.  Sometimes I want to say fuck it and take all the pills in the house and lay down and drift away.  I can’t decide which is better because neither is better, they both are just choices.  I can’t use other people’s reasoning to back up either one, for they are slanted for reasons I cannot understand.  They have a bias toward life.  I have to choose what I really want most, and I just don’t know.  I truly don’t.  My wants and desires-the deep ones in the core of my being- have been so long ignored, given up for what a character would do, or what my mom would do, that as an adult, I hardly know how to access the decision-making skills that most children have already mastered.  I’m a fucking goldfish; when I’m upset, I’m only upset, and I’ve always been upset.  When I’m happy, I’m only happy and I’ve always been happy.  I don’t know how to take a step back and see both at the same time.  I can’t hold contradictory truths at once.  I’m not wise.  I’m set up to fail because there are cracks in my foundation.

As long as I continue to not decide, I don’t take action.  I’m stuck in a holding pattern of “I don’t know,” and “what’s going to get me through the next 5 minutes,” and “just fuck it all, it doesn’t matter.”  

I’ve never, ever, in my life imagined myself as an elderly person.  I’ve thought of myself as a middle-aged adult, but never past 40 or so.  Sometimes I see myself as a woman, sometimes as a man, sometimes an NB person.  But that’s not what matters.  I don’t see myself living to old age.  Mortality is comfort.  The fact that this life doesn’t go on forever is one thing that honestly makes it seem ok to keep living.  But by definition, it also makes it seem like a good choice to die when things go wrong.  Because I will in the end.  

I see my life as a project, and I’ve always had this dilemma with projects: if I make a mistake, what point is too ruined to salvage?  What factors make it more worthwhile to backtrack and fix the mistakes vs. just throwing it away.  Fixing the mistakes shoes dedication and perseverance, but it’s frustrating.  Hot.  Angry.  Uncomfortable.  Embarrassing to show youthful ineptitude to the world.  Throwing it away is quick.  Easy.  Zen.  Brings immediate cool relief with grace and style.  But it’s selfish.  So fucking selfish.  

If you’ve read this far, please proceed to pour water into your ears and shake vigorously.  This was not meant to be imprinted on your brain.  This is for me to sort out my thoughts, which are, and shall always be, unable to be ordered.

[sapphicscholar]

November 2024

“And CNN can now project that former Governor Catherine Grant will become the President Elect of the United States. By our estimates, she now has more than enough votes to become the 47th president, the country’s second female president, and the first out LGBTQ president. Folks, this is a historic moment.”

The rest of the commentator’s words were drowned out in a roar of cheering as Cat strode out on stage in front of a room packed full of her supporters. Miniature American flags waved in outstretched hands. Red, white, and blue balloons bobbed through the air above them and fell, scattering across the stage. And rainbow confetti—the one “fun” choice Cat had allowed Kara—floated down from the ceiling. Cat kept one hand on Carter’s arm, her other hand clutched in Kara’s, her fingers trembling slightly, still not quite sure whether she could believe the results. After all, it had only been four years ago when she had walked out on stage to give a rather different speech after a long night of contested results and too-close-to-call-it-yet moments that finally ended after 4 in the morning with a slightly uncertain calling of the election for General Lane.

“It’s real,” Kara murmured, and Cat squeezed her hand just a little harder at the reminder that Kara had always been the one to know exactly what she needed to hear. With a quick peck for Kara and a tight hug for Carter, Cat strode forward to the podium, waving at the crowds and calling out her thanks until the tumultuous applause finally died down. She smiled as it quieted, adjusting the microphone and glancing down at the speech she had prepared, hoping but not quite believing she would have reason for it this time.

“Thank you!” Cat shook her head the slightest amount, still wondering if perhaps it was all some dream she would wake up from, finding the election night still to come. “Thank you all for your support and your donations and your hours and hours of tireless campaigning. And now—now we’re here.”

Kara threw an arm around Carter’s shoulders as they watched and listened from the wings, cheering and laughing and clapping at the lines they had listened to Cat practice the night before. “She’s pretty great, huh?” Kara whispered, earning a low chuckle from Carter.

“Think I can get off work tomorrow since my mom’s president and all?”

Kara shrugged her shoulders. “I’m calling off work tomorrow with a case of First-Lady-itis.”

With a snort, Carter shook his head. “You’re the boss. Of course you can call out.”

Not that Kara took off many days. Or any days, really. After the last campaign ended, she had turned down several offers to return to the Senate as a chief of staff or to manage another campaign. The work with Cat had been enjoyable and meaningful, but after watching and living through the dirty smear campaigns and invasive personal attacks, Kara decided she needed to step back and return to the kind of work that had inspired her to turn to politics in the first place. After a year as a senior researcher at one of DC’s progressive think tanks, Kara had applied for grants and gotten seed money from L-Corp’s philanthropic arm to found an NGO dedicated to advancing alien rights and promoting interspecies dialogue—something she saw an increasingly urgent need for in the face of the Lane administration’s attempts to roll back protective measures like the Alien Amnesty Act. But now the country seemed ready to arc back toward justice, and Kara knew, no matter how late they were out that night, she would head into the office for at least an hour or two the next day to be sure they had put out a statement about Cat’s victory.

By the time Cat finished with the speech and started working her way through seemingly countless interviews with the press, most people finally headed home, leaving the large venue quiet after a night of nervous chatter and raucous applause. At a certain point, Carter snuck in for a hug and yet another congratulations while Cat was between interviews, excusing himself to get a nap in before he had to fly back to the West coast.

James likewise caught an early flight back to California after Cat sent him off with a teasing admonishment to “keep my legacy alive, Jimmy.” Even with assurances that he had CatCo’s best reporters on it and had vetted the proofs of the front page himself, James still ended up heading back out, sighing about how the work of a CEO was never done.

Around the time the sun was beginning to rise, bathing the city in a soft pink light, Kara found a very drunk Alex and an only marginally more sober Maggie making out behind the bar and celebrating the return of a liberal to the White House. After taking a few photos for posterity’s sake, Kara shuffled them outside and instructed two of the hired security guards to take them back to their house, leaving them both with stern reminders to drink plenty of water.

“Can you take us to Shake Shack?” Alex slurred as she flopped into the back seat behind Maggie. “They got great fries. Maggie likes fries. Didja know that? Veg’tarians can have fries at burger places.”

“We’ll get you fries at some point today,” Kara promised as she shut the door behind Alex, rolling her eyes as Maggie dropped her head into Alex’s lap, already half asleep.

While Kara waited for Cat to finish her final interviews, she scrolled through her texts and emails, smiling at all the happy messages waiting for her from Eliza, who promised that she had been watching live from the Grant campaign headquarters in California, and Winn, who included several photos of Americans following the coverage in Germany with the caption: “SO PROUD OF YOU!! Time to go: they’re buying shots. Gonna be so hungover for day 3 of the conference…”

Kara’s phone rang with a call from Lucy and Vasquez as Cat sat down with the last of the interviews that Jasmine had arranged. With a little wave to Cat, Kara gestured at her phone and the back corner of the room before wandering away from the cameras to take it. As she slid her finger across the screen, she couldn’t help the excited squeal. “Good news?”

“Double good news!” Vasquez cheered. “Don’t think we didn’t watch the coverage just because we couldn’t be there in person.”

“Little asshole had to choose the most inconvenient time to arrive,” Lucy grumbled in the background, earning a loud bark of laughter from Vasquez.

“Don’t mind her. She’s still a little grumpy from the 18 hours of labor.”

“‘A little grumpy?’” Kara had to hold the phone away from her face as Lucy yelled. “You try shoving a 7-pound lump out of your—”

“Congratulations!” Kara cut in.

“Thank you!” they both called back, and Kara had to chuckle at the dramatic shift in tone.

“Got a name?”

“Nope.”

“He’s baby X for now.”

“And he’s really fucking cute.”

“Okay, well, he’s kinda weird-looking, but they promise that he’ll be looking a little less alien in a couple of days. No offense, Kara.”

“None taken. I guess.”

“He’s so little. Did you know how little they are?”

“But he’s got, like, these itty-bitty fingernails and everything. Like…he’s a full human, only miniature.”

“But with big blue eyes. I don’t think they’ll stay blue, but they’re beautiful for now.”

“And so much hair. I kinda hope it falls out…might be nice to start again without a big shaggy mop of it.”

“They said it would.”

Kara snorted at the back-and-forth, wondering how long the two of them had been awake at that point. “I think Cat’s wrapping up, so I should probably go, but congratulations again!”

“Congrats to Cat too!” Vasquez cheered.

“Yes! About damn time.”

“Hopefully we’ll make it out to see the baby in the next couple of days, if you don’t mind a big team of security stalking out the perimeter of your house.”

“Go for it. And you know, if they want to take out the trash or pick up some diapers while they’re at it, I hear we’re gonna want all the extra help we can get.”

“Well I’m sure baby X’s godmothers will be more than happy to babysit once they’ve recovered from their collective hangover from hell,” Kara snickered.

“That bad?”

“Oh, I took pictures. Don’t worry.”

Lucy let out a little hum. “Can always count on you for that.”

“I think I might save these ones for the next big birthday party, though…” Kara grinned at the thought of the sheer number of humiliating photos she had saved up for that moment. “Anyway, I’ll let you go, but have a safe trip home from the hospital and give baby X a kiss for me okay?”

“Of course!”

Once Kara hung up, she ambled back over to where Cat was gathering her things and stretching after too many hours spent standing in heels. Throwing Cat’s bag over her shoulder, Kara extended her free hand. “Can I take you home, President Grant?”

“Please.”

December 2024

“God, accounting for a security detail for the president-elect is such a pain in the ass,” Alex grumbled as she pulled out the pegs of the seating chart for what felt like the hundredth time.

Maggie laughed as she wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Still better than accounting for the security detail of the actual president, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes, because bumping up the timeline for the wedding by four months was so much easier.”

“You’re the one who insisted on having Kara as your maid of honor, and you can’t just not invite her wife.”

“We should have gotten married before them.”

“Please, you had so much fun giving Kara shit for U-Hauling with Cat after only a year. You wouldn’t have given that up for a slightly easier go of it ourselves.”

Alex let out a long sigh. “Maybe not.” After a moment she added, “But I still think Kara should be doing some of this work.”

“Well then tell her so over dinner.”

“Oh yeah, let’s think about how that’ll go. Hey, Kara? Be a dear. In between running an organization and preparing to move into the White House and making decisions about the inauguration and the ball, could you also figure out this seating chart?”

“You forgot to add in that we could really use the extra time for ourselves since your fiancée is kind of irresistible.”

“Mm yes. That too.” Alex’s eyes fluttered shut as Maggie kissed her softly, their hands twining together.

A knock at the door interrupted them. “Coming,” Alex called out, squeezing Maggie’s hand one last time before making her way over to the front door. She swung it open to reveal Lucy and Vasquez, both of them looking a little worn for wear. Lucy had a diaper bag slung over her shoulder, and Vasquez held an infant carseat in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other.

“Hey! Come in, come in, it’s so good to see you.”

They followed Alex inside, waving at Maggie as she rounded the corner. As Vasquez set the carseat on the ground, Lucy grimaced at the sound of a little whimper.

Alex leaned forward, unbuckling the straps and lifting the baby up, settling him into the crook of her elbow as she cooed at him. “Oh, come here, little Alex. Your godmother’s got you.”

Lucy pursed her lips and glared. “It’s A.J.”

“Mm, but I believe one of those names could be shorted to Alex. And really, I’m still so flattered that you named your son after me.”

Vasquez’s lips twitched as Lucy groaned. “It was a family name.”

“Say whatever you want to, Luce, but me and little Alex are always gonna know the truth.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows at Maggie. “She’s insufferable, you know that, right?”

“Considering we’re getting married in a couple weeks, I think I know that by now.” Maggie raised herself up to her tip-toes to kiss away the crinkle in Alex’s forehead. “But I love you more than anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I’m holding a baby.”

“And you’re welcome to borrow him anytime you want.”

Vasquez shook her head. “She says that now, but she’s secretly a big softie with him at home.”

Before Lucy could respond, the sound of several SUVs pulling up drew their attention outside. “Cat’s here!” Alex called out. “Maggie, can you deal with the security team?”

Eventually Cat and Kara made it inside, and after a round of passing A.J. around to everyone, Lucy got him to fall asleep in his carseat in time for dinner. When she got back, Vasquez patted the seat next to her, throwing her arm around Lucy’s shoulders and kissing her temple.  

Alex raised her glass in the air. “A toast to little Alex!”

“Also known as A.J.,” Maggie chimed in, winking at Vasquez across the table as they clinked their glasses.

“And to the soon-to-be-married couple for hosting us tonight,” Cat added, earning another round of clinking glasses.

“And, excuse me, let’s not fucking forget,” Lucy cut in, “to the next President of the United States of America.”

“Cheers!” the table chorused.

“Here’s to an overdue victory!”

“And eight long years in the White House!”

[murgle-burgle-mage]

Ventpost 21/11/2018

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, period talk, dysphoria, pre menstrual dysphoric disorder, suicide mentions, self harm mentions.

Read at your own risk. Of any of this affects you either scroll past or reach out for help.

Right, so, I'm still heavily depressed. And I am writing this post to inform you all on my situation.

I haven't attended College in nearly three weeks. I have an exam next week. My college also has a strict attendance policy that if you stray from too much, they'll ask you to leave the college.

My mom is going to speak with the head of student services today, I'm staying home.

I should say that a little over... three? Four weeks ago? About a month ago, even, I had my first depo-provera injection. Unfortunately, as well as having not have had the desired effect of stopping my period so as to aid in my ability to cope with my pre menstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) and instead making them longer and thus, harder to cope with, it may have triggered the fuck out my depression (and anxiety).

I should also mention that a few weeks after I got the depo shot, I cought a cold, which didnt help me. And then shortly after that I was grieving because Sundry the 4th of November was the anniversary of the death of a beloved pet that I'd grown up with and unfortunately, that pet died two years ago. But the wounds are still pretty fresh so I still get upset and met be a little bit bereaved.

I decided to go back to counselling for the bereavement, and as much as the counselling is helping, I'm still having trouble.

It doesn't help me that not long after that I got my dreaded period. And thats when shit well and truly hit the fan.

I don't cope well with my period in the slightest. It's not because I'm "A wuss who cannot handle PMS" but because It gives me the most horrendous dysphoria and triggers the PMDD, both of which really do not contribute well to my ability to control my anxiety and depression (read: they blow it so out of proportion that I physically cannot cope or function), especially not when they're combined.

The combination of all these things seems to have triggered an incredibly bad bout of depression.

It didn't help, either, when I spoke to the head of student services a few weeks ago and was told I had to "manage" my depression. And although I will say it was meant in the best of ways, it wasn't at all the right choice of words. Especially since it's only a year ago when I actually started learning how to sort of cope with the depression and learning how to cope with something like this is not something I can do overnight.

Which brings us to the present. I'm depressed and experiencing suicidal thoughts and intrusive thoughts about hurting myself. The only reason why I haven't tried anything like that is because of how much I really don't want to harm anyone by passing my pain and my problems on to them.

And having a history of self-harm, I've also seen the way it affects the people around me and I've been clean for four or five years and really don't want to relapse.

I'm so scared of being told to leave the college because I cannot keep up my attendance because it is my last and only chance at a formal education.

Unfortunately, due to unfortunate circumstances regarding the bullying I was suffering, the fact said bullying problem was not being dealt with despite continually being reported by my mom and the messy divorce between my parents and a few other things, I ended up dropping out of school several years ago.

This was before I would've even had the chance to do my GCSEs and thus, going to college is my only option if I wish to gain the required qualifications to get any job other than being a cleaner, security guard or dockyard peon in horrible conditions for minimum wage (min. Wage in Gibraltar is like £6.50 per hr, not even that. It is impossible to live on a wage like that because it's right on the breadline), Nevermind if I want to be a paramedic.

Which is why I'm scared of being kicked from the college, but I can't make this very much better for myself because my depression's gone to shit and, well, you see my problem.

Tl;dr: I'm depressed, missing college more than I probably should because I'm depressed, scared I'll get booted from the college because I'm not attending as much as I should but I can't do anything about it because I have no idea what to do or how to cope appropriately.

[unordinary22]

Just a vent/possible tw/

So to start this off, lets make it clear that I am a highschool junior. I’m going to vent about a bunch of stuff because maybe it’ll make me feel better. 

Ever since I was little the only thing I’ve ever wanted was a dog of my own. I’ve done the research on the breed that i want, saved the money, created powerpoints to convince the adults in my life, and many many other things. I started asking a little more frequently my freshman year because my mother and I had just moved into this apartment and it was a good time. My mother told me that I had to wait until she figured out her life or something I don’t really remember that time, I waited a couple months before asking again, my grades were good, I had the money, I did even more research on the breed I want; I basically had it all figured out. I asked again and my mother said basically the exact same thing. I then waited a couple more months and then COVID-19 started getting worse and the first lockdown-quarantine started (still my freshman year of highschool). The quarantine worked out really well for me, as I had more time for a puppy and had all of my stuff situated. I asked again, in the beginning of my sophomore year of highschool, for a puppy of the breed that I want and did a lot more research on training and the breed. My mother then tells me, after I asked again, that I had to wait until her dog died to get a puppy of my own. Now saying this to your child is detrimental to their emotional state. My mother invoked feelings of hope that her dog would die, which I hate myself for, but I couldn’t control it. (I went through some big trauma in the seventh grade and a dog of my own would really help with my mental health, trust me I’ve done the research and I know how it would help me). Then around november of last year my grandmother who I was very close to, was diagnosed with lung cancer. The night/day she died (January 9th of 2021), I sat next to her and watched her go. It added onto the trauma I have and my mental health nose-dived even farther than it already was. My mother and I (and her dog) then moved into my grandmother’s house so my grandpa wouldn’t be alone. Shortly after that my aunt and cousin moved in as well. My aunt is 50 something and she is the laziest and most ungrateful person I have ever met. My cousin has some learning disabilities and is very entitled. My aunt never taught him basic manners, how to do basic chores, nothing at all basically. My cousin doesn’t do anything around the house, and neither does my aunt. I do all of the chores and all my mom does is cook. This is very stressful on me because my mother is a narcissist and I am in AP classes and am a year ahead in school. Over the past few months I’ve asked for a puppy (of the breed I want) many times and a couple weeks ago my grandpa said that I couldn’t have an animal until he dies. He said that I was lucky that my mom’s dog (who doesn’t like me) is in the house and is here. So not only have I been told that I have to wait until my mom’s dog dies to get a puppy, I now have to also wait for my grandfather to die. Anyways, a couple weeks ago my now ex best friend broke our friendship off because she is moving to another state and the only explanation I got as to why she was doing that was “It’ll be better for you” which was bull. Not even 24 hours after that my now ex boyfriend of three years broke up with me because we didn’t hang out as often and he almost never saw me because I moved schools when we moved in with my grandpa, and I wasn’t enough for him. I had to deal with that by myself all alone. Needless to say, now my mental health is really really bad. I am a sad, lonely, miserable person. I’ve tried everything I can to help myself but nothing as worked. I know that getting a puppy would help my mental and physical health immensely as I have severe depression, ptsd, and a couple other things. None of the adults care about that though. What about my dad? My twin brother lives with him and my father acts like I don’t exist. It’s complete radio silence. I text, call, try to reach out and he doesn’t respond or anything. He doesn’t even reach out or anything. I’m a jr in High school, my grades are all good except math. I’m in college algebra and my teacher isn’t very good at helping me understand it, and I’ve been failing her class since the first day I walked into it. I’m trying to switch to an online college algebra class but my school counselor, who situates that stuff, has made it difficult and so has my mother. That’s all I have to vent about at the moment, but trust me there’s more. Maybe I’ll vent here again who knows.  

[bigassheart]

Updated TUA Timeline

OK, so I posted some Umbrella Academy Timeline stuff a few days ago, but I’ve since re-watched a few episodes, read some other posts online, and made some adjustments. 

So here is my latest take on the show’s timeline: 

October 1st, 1989 - The Umbrella Academy kids are born.

Vanya trains with Reginald and is subsequently made to forget about her powers around age 4. (based on casting for the young Vanya and young Allison roles)

This is also when Grace comes to the house, therefore the kids all get their names around this same age. (I would assume Grace names them fairly quickly, but that is 100% just an assumption)

Klaus is locked in the mausoleum when he is 8. (again, based on casting for that role) However, it’s not quite that simple, because when Klaus is talking to his dad in episode 7, he says that his dad locked him in the mausoleum when he was 13. Complicating matters even further, there is a post somewhere out there that took a screen shot of Reginald’s journal with notes about locking Klaus in the mausoleum. (I have not been able to find that post again, so if anyone knows the one I’m talking about and has a link, I would love to put it in here). The date recorded on those notes is 2001. (I don’t remember the month, but I think it was summer) That would have made him 11 years old. It’s possible that this was just an inconsistency in the writing. Or it’s possible that Reginald locked Klaus in a mausoleum on at least 3 different occasions at age 8, 11, and 13. 

Five leaves when he is 13.

According to Pogo in episode 1, Five has been gone for 16 years, 4 months, and 14 days. The date in that episode is March 24th, 2019 (according to Vanya). That means that Five disappeared on November 10th, 2002, a little more than a month after the Umbrella Academy kids all turned 13.

That means the museum robbery, and pretty much all of the scenes with those actors are when the characters are 13 or (very likely) 12.

Five finds Delores pretty soon after the apocalypse (again, same actor, so I’m figuring a year leeway at most). He tells Klaus that he was with Delores for 30 years. That would make him about 43 when The Handler shows up. When Five gets back to the present, he gives a very specific amount of time he has been gone: 45 years. This means he spent 15 years working for the Comission, making him 58 at this point.

In episode 3, we learn that Vanya wrote her book 5 years earlier. (when they were 24) At this point, Ben is already dead and Luthor has not had his accident yet. 

In episode 6, Luther says that he was on the moon for 4 years, making him about 25 years old when he left. We don’t know how soon after the accident he was sent to the moon (days? weeks? months?), but based on the fact that he had not had the accident at age 24, it had to have been less than a year.

That brings us to the present. The members of the Umbrella Academy are all 29, except for Five, who is 58, and Klaus, who spent 10 months in Vietnam and is therefore 30 now.  EDIT 1: Actually, the kids may all be 30 (except for Klaus and Five). Diego mentions leaving at age 17. Alison mentions leaving the house 13 years ago. Granted, they may have left at different ages, but then there’s also a scene where Five tells Luthor he’s 28 years older than him. If those three numbers and their birth year are all accurate, then the “present day” events all take place in March of 2020, not 2019. EDIT 2: Nope. The Handler says that Five was flagged when he appeared in 2019, so season 1 does take place in March of 2019. Apparently the writers are just bad at math and that’s ok.  

There is of course one mystery left: Ben. Ben’s death is still a huge mystery in the show, but I’m going to argue that it happens when they are 16. Here’s why: 

Klaus mentions that Ben died “young and tragic”

Everyone left the house after Ben died, according to Vanya. 

In episode 3, Alison says that they left their mom alone for 13 years. (13 years ago, they would have been 16) We don’t know how quickly everyone left, if it took days, weeks, or even years, so it’s possible that 13 years ago was when Alison left specifically. It could be that everyone was gone by that date. Or it could be that this is when everyone started leaving. 

Ben’s statue does not have a date on it, but obviously he would have had to be at least the same age as he is depicted there.   

We also have the following portraits sequence in episode 1 that was used to show Five’s disappearance and Ben’s death. Here are all 4 portraits. 

Portrait 1 is done when they are all 12 or 13 years old. Everyone looks about the same age in portrait 2, so I’m assuming it Reginald had it commissioned right after Five disappeared. It would therefore make sense that portrait 4 was done right after Ben died. There are clearly several years age difference between portraits 2 and 3. It also looks like there may be another year or so age difference between portraits 3 and 4. Because of this, I would argue that the children are at least 15 years old in the final portrait. Therefore, Ben dies at age 15 or 16. 

And that’s all I’ve got so far. 

If anyone else has more clues from the show on Ben’s death or other details of the timeline, please add them to this post. I definitely feel like there are some things I’m missing…

[kaylabliss]

Since I'm posting again...

I figure I'll post about why I've disappeared from Tumblr for about a million years. I missed all you people that I don't actually talk to but enjoy seeing posts from.

This year has been total shit. I don't know what my last "update" was, but I doubt anyone else will remember either.

I'm finally on ADHD medication (as of November), which has made a very slight difference in my ability to function. However, I'm thinking of asking for something different. I'm on Adderall XR, and I'm wondering if Vyvanse would be more helpful. It costs twice as much, but if it helps, it would be worth it.

Despite taking daily amphetamines, I've gained even more weight and I'm at my highest weight since pregnancy. (I'm not taking Adderall for weight loss, of course, but it would have been a really nice side effect. I have little to no appetite, but I still eat way too much because depression anxiety and laziness.)

In January, we found out Toys R Us was closing. My partner has been a supervisor there for ten years, so this was a pretty devastating blow for us. His last day was in April. Fortunately, he was only unemployed for about a month. In the week after TRU closed, he helped a local mom and pop toy store owner move some shelves that they'd bought from the TRU liquidation. That got his foot in the door, and now he's actually making more money there than he was at TRU.... To the tune of an extra $250 a week. Better yet, they love him. And his boss? Small world, he was my favorite patient at my old job. So we're going into this with me already knowing and liking his boss! And a fun bonus: when new movies come out, they rent out entire rows at the theater and all the employees and whoever they want to invite can go see it. Eric went to see Solo with them-- I've been trying to convince him to go out and do things with people for literally our entire relationship, so I was THRILLED about this. Also, the store sells mostly older collectibles, so when he saw what his toys were worth, he was psyched. He sold two of his old action figures this week for $400, and he gets 60% of that on consignment.

The salary increase and extra money is great, because in February, my car broke down. The transmission died, and as it was a POS 1996 Lexus, it would have cost four times what the car was worth to fix it. So we've been sharing a car, which has been difficult, but thankfully both our jobs close at 8 and we're right across the street from each other. While he was still at TRU, he was sometimes getting off around 10, which meant keeping my daughter out way too late. But now we can start saving for a down payment on a car, and actually afford car payments without having to live on ramen.

Also in February, his mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. This has been hard. Last week, she had her final surgery to remove the cancerous mass from her lung. She came home on Thursday and she's doing well. Aside from the anxiety over her diagnosis, this has been hard in about a dozen other ways. She had some moments where she was legitimately scared that she wouldn't get to see Shilo grow up, and this was made even harder when she lost her hair. She looked different, and Shilo acted scared of her. I don't know if she was having trouble recognizing her or what. And then to top it off, they've always been pretty well off financially and have always been able to help out their kids when needed-- including us. But there was a lot of things their insurance didn't pay for, and they had a $100 copay for each radiation treatment for six weeks. We haven't needed help with money, thankfully, but under normal circumstances they may have been able to help us get a new car. They also missed their granddaughter's graduation in Texas, which I know was disappointing. Eric's unemployment was actually helpful though, because he was able to stay home with Shilo for the greater part of his mom's chemo and radiation.

All that aside, there have been a lot of daily stressors and disappointments for me. I don't know how much I should really go into here, since someone could stumble into my blog.... Eh, I think I have it locked from public view, so.

One of the biggest things that bugged me was my mom. I didn't get to see her for Christmas because on Christmas eve, it was more important to her to go pass out coffee at a local men's shelter. (I know it sounds noble, but sometimes I wonder. She's wound up dating several of the men there.) I had to work on Christmas day. I didn't see her until the end of January at my niece's birthday party. She didn't bring Shilo's Christmas presents with her, because we had planned to do lunch before the party but neither of us felt well enough for it, so she decided not to bring the presents. I brought her and Lily's presents, because I knew it could be a while before we could get together, and it was already a month late. After that, she said several times she would come over with them. One day, she had told me she was going to be down the street at Walmart and would drop by... She actually called me from Walmart to ask me for diet advice.... And didn't come over when she was done.

In May, she finally just brought the presents to me at work, because she was at a dentist appointment in the same complex I work in. I didn't ACTUALLY see her until last week.

In all that time, she knew about all the crap I've been going through, and she hasn't checked on me one single time. In fact, the week after my car broke down, she called me to brag that she had traded in her perfectly good, brand new car for an even newer car. This was particularly infuriating to me, because I was busting my ass working overtime and working every single holiday and I was barely making rent (forget any chance of getting even a cheap functioning car), but she's on SSDI and is taking on this huge car payment for literally no reason.

Then, when we finally did get together and go to lunch, she spent the first fifteen minutes listing every celebrity who has ever @ her on Twitter (despite me saying repeatedly "I have no idea who that is" and showing zero interest in the discussion because c'mon), talked about herself the whole time, and didn't ask me any questions about how things are going. When I did manage to get a word in, it was about Shilo's behavior at school, and she took over the conversation again to tell me about this place where you can drop autistic kids off for a few hours (but they're not even a licensed childcare facility, which makes me nervous, and they don't list their prices on their website which means I can't afford them). They also have family classes and actives and whatever, but still, I'm sure I can't afford them.

One of the things that really hurt me though? She had been "too busy" to see us for nearly six months, but she had time to make a 400 mile round trip to the other end of the state to spend time with my high school roommate and her children... Two weekends in a row, including on Mother's Day weekend. But yeah, too fucking busy to see her own daughter and granddaughter. When I tried to confront her on it, she was really blasé about it and deflected the conversation.

And? She didn't tell me that she broke up with her boyfriend months ago, and was not living where I thought she was living. In fact, I'm pretty sure she straight up lied to me about it, because she sent me what appeared to be an accidental text about moving, and when I said "wait what, you're moving?" she said "oh yeah from one trailer to the other" (they were living in a trailer park where you can only stay six months due to the sewage system or something, so they bought two trailers so they could move to the second every six months).

It's all made me feel really alone. I miss my grandma, because she never would have treated me this way. My mom is the only "family" I have, and she has zero interest in being part of my life.

Anyway, done with that section.

Shilo has been very violent at school, to a point where we actually got TWO behavior referrals in one day (a slip explaining her behavior and consequences-- usually involves missing recess, having to eat lunch in the principal's office, and/or writing an apology letter). It's been frustrating, and I haven't been sure what to do since I work so much and have my own issues with executive function and lack the ability to keep a stable routine. I'm hoping next year will be better, and I'm going to get a behavior intervention plan added to her IEP so we can figure out WHY she acts this way instead of just trying to correct the behavior after it happens. They do try to circumvent the behavior, mostly using social stories before transitions and things, but I don't think it's working.

Another big thing is that I got my IUD removed, and while I'm pissed about having a real menstrual cycle again, I'm shocked at some of the effects the IUD had on me that I didn't even realize. It turns out it was really dampening my sex drive, and portions of my personality. Suddenly I was interested in sex again and attracted to anything that moves lmao. An increased sex drive is a bad thing for me though, which I won't go into here.... But in short, let's say that it's caused some hurt feelings due to rejection.

So yeah, that's most of it. If you actually read my wall of text and whining, thanks! You're a champ.