#i have police-related trauma and had to speak to an officer the other week

[despite-everything]

so when id gotten home an hour and a half ago there were cops staked out outside my building and i think they've finally left... had me shaking and lightheaded every time i heard a sound

[field4thought]

there's a frog in mom's throat (essay)

In my first memory, I am about three or four years old. My father and mother are lying in their bed and chatting, sometime in either the early morning or late afternoon, judging by the rays of light that had reflected through the floating dust (fairy dust, I thought) onto the floor. My mother was sick, and she sounded funny when she spoke. My father told me she had a frog in her throat. I climbed onto the bed, sat on her stomach (which did not feel to great for her, but was perfectly fine for me), and leaned forward. "Can I see?"

Dad explained that there was not a literal frog, and that it just meant she sounded croaky. I was disappointed.

After that, I don't remember anything for about a decade. When I'm reminded of a particular moment, I see something for a brief instant, but the scene always disappears before it comes into focus. My therapist said it's common for people who have experienced childhood trauma. The person I dated in eleventh grade said maybe that's why I keep repeating the same mistakes. All my mother had to say was, "We'll work on it." We did not, in fact, work on it.

I think my mother regrets that she was not perhaps the best mother she could have been. No, let me rephrase that: My mother was not the best mother, and she regrets it deeply. When we talked about the cuts on my body, she said she felt like she'd "fucked me up" in some way. To be entirely fair, she did - she told me that she couldn't wait until I was eighteen and left the house. I was in first grade at the time.

Now I am eighteen, and we are doing much better. She still says hurtful things, but I can now tell when she means what she says and when she is just snapping because of her untreated mental ailments. It still isn't great when she says she hates me and my siblings and should never have been a mother, but at least I can tell when the chemicals have gone sideways. That's more than I had when I was seven.

We talk now, sometimes. I ask her for advice on how to make friends. She asks me for advice on how to relate to her other teenagers. She understands me the most out of all of us kids, and that's because we're so alike. Nobody else in my family could read an entire book composed of one guy's essays like I am right now. Nobody else really appreciates getting up before the sunrise and taking a mug of tea into the woods. I am definitely her child, even if I don't carry her blood.

It's odd, the relationship I have with my mother. Oftentimes, I am afraid to speak to her about something, so I wait a week or two until we are alone in the car and doing an Uber Eats order to tell her things. "I'm cutting" is something I know she never wanted to hear from her children, especially followed by the word "again."

What really started this openness between us was a night in early October of my senior year in high school. I told her that she had never cared about me, quoting the time in my sophomore year when the first thing she said after hearing from my school counselor that I might be suicidal was about how the counselor had said Harrisen instead of my legal name. That night, three police officers put me in the back of a squad car and drove me to the hospital. I went to a mental hospital instead of wherever people who jump off bridges go.

She visited me once, halfway through my stay. She said almost nothing, and neither did I. Dad mostly updated me on everything that I was missing out on, including his friend from Germany visiting. He came to the States the day I went to the hospital and he left the same day I did. There's probably something symbolic there, about how being suicidal has kept me from the larger world. About how the call of the pills or the chemicals under the sink is louder than the call of new things, and how bed rot can take root in your mind and cause fungus to grow in your brain.

When I came home from the psyc ward, I unloaded a lot of information on her about a week after. I had a friend who had committed suicide. I had been cutting myself in various ways since I was eight. I had been doing most of my self destructive behaviors because it was the only thing that felt good, that gave me a high. Adrenaline is as close as I have been able to get to dopamine for years now.

I still have trouble remembering things. Even this past Christmas and my eighteenth birthday are fuzzy, and that was only two and a half months ago. All I will have of my years is held in my poems, my stories, and my photos. For a while, I would delete everything I came across that was more than a month or two old. Then J stopped doing that. I started paying more attention, finding the one out of focus bird on the rooftop in the corner and thinking, 'oh, that's why I took this.' I read through my poetry document, which at this point has years of my work in it and is over a hundred pages long, and I think about where I've been and who I've been in those places.

Hindsight is a bitch, but she's also my best friend. We're joined at the hip. It's a toxic friendship, but I'm short on friends right now, and I'll take what I can get.

[atlanticcanada]

Halifax woman’s mission to track alleged romance fraudster leads to arrest

It took Andréa Speranza some time to be able to return to Shubie Park. The place brings back memories of a man she dated for four months in 2018, who she says would later bilk her of $5,000, before he ghosted her.

“Everything he's done is against my personal values, and it's not at all about the money,” says Speranza. “I'm a firefighter and I go and help people on the worst days of their lives. For me it's just the trauma that he's caused.”

Three years ago, Speranza spoke out about her experience with the man she identified as Marcel Andre Vautour.

Court documents show he had been convicted of criminal offences in several provinces by that time, including unauthorized use of credit card data in Quebec in 2005 and obtaining by false pretenses in Victoria in 2009.

Speranza started a website to find other potential victims and track him down.

“With hopes that we would put it out to the world and people would care enough to let us know when they saw him, and that's what happened,” she said.

Speranza says a tip to that site led to Vautour's arrest in Ontario last week.

That arrest, confirmed by York Regional Police.

“Our officers received information that a man wanted on a warrant regarding this romance scam, was in the Vaughan area attempting to avoid essentially being caught by police,” says Cst. Laura Nicolle.

“This was an ongoing investigation that was happening in the province of Quebec,” says Cst. Nicholle. “There was an outstanding warrant issued for a suspect which was applicable in Quebec but also in Ontario.”

Police say officers arrested the 47-year-old last Wednesday and the accused was transported to Quebec. Tuesday afternoon, he appeared by video in Drummondville court to face a charge of fraud over $5,000. The charge is related to events in the area dating back to 2013.

The charge against Vautour is yet to be tested in court.

Tuesday’s court appearance was brief, during which lawyers scheduled his bail hearing in the matter for Friday.

“It was really was a tenacious, like dogged thing, she did, to make sure all these things got connected,” says lawyer Lisa Teryl, who has been offering Speranza legal advice along the way.

She says the accusations against Vautour speak to a need to coordinate interprovincial law enforcement when it comes to crimes such as romance fraud.

“Because the allegations are that he was doing it in smaller amounts across the provinces, [it’s] very, very hard to get that coordinated,” says Teryl. “And it was really her work that helped coordinate that.”

Speranza is advocating for the creation of a romance fraud registry to track those convicted of such offences, and would like to see stiffer financial penalties for those found guilty of using love to lure potential victims.

She says she knows of at least 20 alleged victims so far, but also acknowledges that many victims of romance fraud don’t come forward out of a sense of embarrassment.

She credits those who shared her story, and the stories of other alleged victims.

“People that didn't judge us, people that supported us in the lowest times, when it was most sensitive, so I want to thank all the people that helped us,” she says.

Speranza had filed her own her own complaint against Vautour with Halifax Regional Police.

Tuesday, a spokesperson for the force would only say no charges have been laid. But acting public information officer Cst. Nicolas Gagnon adds in an email, “the case could be reopened should new information come to light.”

Speranza says what matters most is raising awareness about what romance fraud can truly cost.

According to the Canadian Anti-Fraud Centre, 1,249 complaints of romance schemes from 925 Canadian victims were reported to the Centre in 2021, with a loss of more than $50 million.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/0rXiTy3

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

Baby Reid

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary - Reader finds out she’s pregnant and has to tell Spencer. 

Warning - pregnancy

word count - 3.8k

I’ve been binge watching Criminal Minds and reading hella Spencer fics and I’ve been loving Dad Spencer so here ya go.

"Pregnant?" Y/n looks at the doctor in slight horror. The doctor nods.

"Seems so Miss L/n," The doctor says smiling lightly, "congratulations."

Y/n's eyes drift over to her sister.

"Yeah congrats," Her sister says softly. A light smirk covering her expression.

"How far along?" Y/n asks the doctor.

"8 weeks," The doctor shares, "it's not uncommon to find out around the 4-12 week mark. We recommend doing an ultrasound today. Just to make sure that everything is alright. Is that okay?"

"Sure," Y/n says softly. The doctor nods moving the machine towards the girl. Prepping her for the ultrasound. Y/n's sister takes the girl's hand gently. Trying to offer some sort of support.

"There is the little guy," The doctor says, "and that's the heartbeat."

The faces remain tense. The doctor sighs lightly.

"I can get the ultrasound pictures for you- I'll be right back," They tell the pair of girls before heading out. The second they leave the room Y/n's sister starts.

"Holy crap you're pregnant!"

"Kate shut the hell up," Y/n says harshly, "God you're such a bitch sometimes."

"I mean I'm right," Kate says chuckling lightly, "well how do you feel?"

"Terrified," Y/n sighs.

"How are you gonna tell him?"

"No clue yet," Y/n says softly, "he's supposed to be flying back tonight too. They finished their case earlier than they thought they would..." She fidgets with the edge of her jacket. "What am I even going to tell him?"

"'Hey Spencer turns out you knocked me up,'" Kate says chuckling lightly, "pretty boy couldn't keep his hands to himself. You think with all those FBI cases he'd be too busy to rail you huh?" Y/n rolls her eyes harshly. "Did you at least enjoy your last time with him before you split from hole to hole?"

"Are you really going there?" Y/n asks harshly.

"Always," She says smirking lightly. Y/n scoffs. "Are you okay?"

"Nervous," Y/n says moving her hand over her stomach, "I don't know how I'm going to speak to him about this ya know? We never really had that are we gonna have kids talk? Figured it was after we finished talking about the marriage thing."

"Which you still aren't done with huh?"

"Clearly not Kate considering we haven't gotten anywhere with that," Y/n huffs, "I mean we want to get married- that's as far as we got with looking into our future. I mean he's so busy. He's doing so much with his job right now that planning a wedding in all that is kind of a nightmare ya know." Kate nods lightly. "I mean we've been talking about getting engaged for like almost 8 months now and we haven't even started looking into the whole wedding part of the thing." Y/n looks to her sister at once. "If he can't even stay home long enough to talk to me about the wedding I highly doubt he'll have enough time to worry about a baby-"

"What about that Hotch guy? His boss he has a kid right?"

"Yeah- a kid he never sees and an ex-wife," Y/n says harshly. Kate raises a brow.

"Okay put Spencer isn't Hotch," Kate points out, "he's Spencer. He's different - In a good way. Obviously right."  Y/n's eyes fall to the ground. "He's Spencer he's not going to leave you. You two are joined at the hip."

"How do you talk to people about this stuff?" Y/n asks, "I mean how do you tell someone you've given them 18 years minimum of responsibility-"

"No not you've given him- it takes two," Kate starts at once, "and I'm sure he was all about it."

"You're disgusting."

"But?"

"Of course he's all about it," Y/n says smirking lightly. But it drops immediately. "That's not the point. Jesus, Kate -"

The door opening ends the conversation. The doctor hands over an envelope. "There are the ultrasound pictures and video. We recommend setting up a follow-up appointment at 12 weeks. There is a pamphlet in there that goes other recommended appointments and other tips like foods to avoid all the basics with pregnancy." Y/n nods. "You should be set to go."

The sisters use this to finally leave the hospital. When they reach Kate's car Y/n opens up the envelope to look over the ultrasound photos.

"That's inside of me?" Y/n asks.

"That's what she said-"

"Kate," She says harshly. The sister laughs loudly.

"Fine fine I'll stop," Kate says as she leans over to look at the pictures, "wow it's so small. Kind of blobby looking- I guess it takes time before they get cute huh?" Y/n gives her sister a harsh glance. "Maybe put the pictures in a card? Give him that."

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over great," Y/n says. She groans slightly. "What am I gonna do?"

~

"How's your fiancé?"

Spencer looks up from his book to meet the pressing eyes of JJ. She's not trying to push in any regard rather she's just curious. Wondering how the couple was doing with everything. The job is high stress and JJ knows how much that can weigh on the partners.

"Oh Y/n she's alright," Spencer tells his friend, "she hasn't been feeling great the last couple of days. She thinks flu- her symptoms match enough that it could make sense however there hasn't exactly been a fever. But she won't let me close enough to know. She says I get overbearing when she's sick- that I'm not exactly helpful."

"What? No way," Morgan says chuckling lightly looking up from his own book to join the conversation, "I don't believe that."

Spencer smiles lightly. JJ chuckles.

"I can understand what she means," JJ says brightly, "don't take what she said to heart. You know how girls get when they aren't feeling well-"

"Except I don't," Spencer says, "I only really have experience with Y/n I mean before her I never lived with a girl that wasn't related to me."

"Still you know enough from her and the girls here," Morgan says, "I think you've picked up on enough." Spencer disagrees but he doesn't argue. He's a little too busy in his own head to care about Morgan's remarks. He's worried about his girlfriend. He wants to be there for her- even if she wouldn't actually let him near her.

"You alright Spence?" JJ asks.

"I'm fine just worried about Y/n," Spencer admits, "If it's not the flu it could be something else- and she hates the hospital so she's not exactly trying to go to do anything about it. Despite how many facts I give her about how dangerous the flu could actually be." Spencer rambles on. Morgan and JJ exchange an amused look. "That's why she doesn't want me around when she's sick huh?"

"I'd imagine," JJ says.

"You stress her out," Morgan says, "in a time you don't need to stress her out."

"He's wording it harshly," JJ tells Spencer, "you just make it a little bit harder for her when she's already going through it. Don't worry plenty of people do that. It's just cause you are worried about her." JJ gives Spencer a soft smile. Trying to show some support.

"Her sister was supposed to take her to the hospital," Spencer tells them, "but knowing Kate I'm sure that they never actually went."

"Y/n doesn't like hospitals?"

"Not since her dad died," Spencer shares, "it's not the hospital itself but what it represents. It's common for people who lose parents in adolescence to have mild phobias of places like hospitals or police stations." They nod along. Spencer sighs.  "She made that face the first time I told her too. Her words were 'thank you for mansplaining my trauma Spence'." Morgan chuckles lightly.

"Yeah, I can imagine," Emily says, "I don't think anyone would exactly love that."

"Normally my rambling doesn't bother her it was just that time really," Spencer goes on, "her sister hates hospitals as well so I don't know why I let her talk me into letting Kate take her to the hospital."

"Because she's pretty and your whipped," Emily says with a big smirk.

"She's got you there," Morgan says. Spencer chuckles lightly.

He smiles lightly as he looks over to his phone.

"That her?" JJ asks. He moves flipping it open.

"Yeah, she wants to know if she should pick me up or if I'm taking the train," Spencer tells them.

"Anything about the hospital?"

"She didn't say anything about it," Spencer tells them, "how long until we land?"

"2 minutes," Hotch chimes in, "Reid you should make her go to the hospital if she hasn't yet. It could be more than just the flu. You know that."

"I know," Spencer says, "If she hasn't gone today I'll take her for sure." Hotch gives him a careful nod. They start gathering their things. Prepping for the landing.

The second Reid collects his things from the office he meets his fiancé at her car.

"You didn't have to pick me up," Spence says as he and his coworkers file out. His fiancé is leaning against the hood of her car smiling lightly at the man. "You should be in bed resting."

"I got my second wind," Y/n says simply.

"Go to the hospital like a normal person," Garcia says teasing the girl. Y/n chuckles.

"Kate took me to the hospital," Y/n informs the others, "it's just a minor bug. Don't let Spencer get you all worried." JJ exchanges a quick look with Garcia. It goes mostly unnoticed as the others watch as Spencer takes his partner's hand. He pecks her cheek. Making sure not to be too close or too touchy in front of the others. Y/n smiles at her partner. Moving to tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear. "I'm fine Spence."

"Look at how in love they are," Emily teases, "it's disgusting."

"Loverman," Morgan teases.

"Classy," Spencer says, "if you guys are done harassing me and my girlfriend I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Bye Guys it was nice to see you again," Y/n says brightly. Hiding her nerves slightly. As they climb into the car she looks over to her partner. Her mood ever so slightly dropping. If Reid wasn't a profiler he wouldn't have picked up on it. However, in his line of work, he was able to read people like a book- even if he missed slight social cues.

"You alright?" He asks. Y/n keeps her eyes focused on the road. "Did I do something?"

"Spence you didn't do anything," She says softly, "I'm fine. Just a little stressed babe." His eyes don't move off of the girl. He's watching her so intently. Clearly using his work skills in an attempt to read the girl. "Stop profiling me, Spencer."

"I'm sorry," He says apologetically. She chuckles lightly. Moving to pull his hand into hers. Pecking it lightly.

"Spencer my love you didn't do anything," She says sweetly, "I'm simply working through some things. We all have our moments."

"We should work through things together," Spencer starts, "We're a couple."

"I'm aware we're a couple, Spencer," She says giving him a quick glance, "I know we should work through stuff together but you know sometimes we have things we aren't ready to talk about yet." He looks over nervously. "You didn't do anything... What do you think you did?"

"I don't know what I did," He says honestly, "I just didn't know if I said something wrong or did something wrong."

"No, you didn't do anything," Y/n assures him, "listen I've just been thinking today... Do you still want to get married?"

"Yes of course," He says, "I know we've had a problem planning everything but I still want to get married. Do you?"

"I want to get married," She says.

He nods.

"So what got you thinking about it?" He asks, "I mean you don't typically get worried about this stuff."

"I've been thinking a lot about the future-"

"Uh oh."

"It's nothing to be worried about Spencer," She says as she tries to focus her eyes on the road. "I'm just trying to think about things you know. You're in the FBI, you work a lot and I stay behind a lot. It works out fine now- but that kinda stress ruins relationships."

"What are you talking about?"

"50% of marriages end in divorce Spencer," She goes on, "do you ever think about that? I mean we both come from broken homes. Is there a point in all this?"

"What are you saying?" Spencer asks. Clear distress in his voice. "are you trying to break up with me?"

"NO no!" She exclaims, "I'm not trying to break up with you actually the complete opposite. I'm just being cynical because I'm scared."

"You aren't making any sense," Spencer says softly.

"I don't know how to say it, Spence," She says quietly. She sighs. Thankful to see their apartment. "Maybe we should have this conversation inside."

"Are we fighting?"

"We aren't fighting Spencer," She says as she climbs from the car, "come on."

"Seems like we are about to fight," Spencer says under his breath. She sighs taking his hand. Leading him through the hallway to get to their apartment. Once inside she moves into Spencer's arms. Helping him shove off his bag. "Woah that was a dramatic shift-"

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," She says as she cups his cheek. He seems very clearly confused. "Don't twist my words. That's not me confessing to trying to run away or anything. Okay?" He nods lightly. "How was your day?"

"You're deflecting- how bad was the hospital?" Spencer starts. Worry filling his expression. "Are you okay?" She chuckles lightly.  "Why are you laughing?"

"Spencer, what are you thinking?"

"Somethings wrong- you're sick," He starts, "are you?"

"No," She says simply. She pulls her hands away from him. "I started thinking about our future today- because when I went to the hospital they realized my symptoms aren't flu. They ran a bunch of tests. Trying to figure it out." His face is coated in worry.

"Y/n?"

"Have you ever thought about having kids?" She asks. His eyes scan every inch of her face.

"No, not really," He admits, "why-" His eyes widen. "Are you?"

"Spencer I'm pregnant," She says softly. He seems scared. She moves to cup his cheeks. He looks like he's gonna pass out. He pulls back. Moving to sit on the couch. He's just staring past her. A whirlwind of emotions across his face.  "I'm pregnant... Spencer say something." He doesn't. He looks up at her. "Spencer how dare this be the time you are speechless."

"How-how far along?"

"8 weeks," She tells him.

"I'm gonna be a dad," He says softly. He meets her eyes. A slight smile across his face. "I'm gonna be a dad."

"Yeah," She chuckles. He moves to wrap his arms around her. Holding on carefully. As he pulls back he moves his hand down onto her stomach. As if he could already feel the baby. "We are gonna be parents." He chuckles. A big smile across their faces. "Is that okay?"

"Yes that's okay," He says brightly, "more than okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," He says brightly.

She moves pulling the envelope from her purse. Handing the pictures over to Spencer. He looks over them brightly.

"Cool right?" She asks.

"Yeah- you know the ultrasound is actually sound waves the frequencies are higher than the upper audible limit of human hearing," Spencer starts, "Ultrasounds in this form is actually called acoustic microscopy-" He stops as he meets her eyes. "We're gonna have a baby."

"Kate says that we'll have really cute kids," She says as he looks back down to the pictures, "she wants them to have your eyes."

"Why?"

"She likes your eyes more than mine apparently," She shrugs, "I think the baby will be cute either way." He nods lightly. She moves beside him to look at the picture. "it's so little."

"Rough weights .04 ounces and measures about .63 inches," Spencer says, "about the size of a raspberry."

"A raspberry?" She says as she moves her hand down to her stomach. "That's so small. Kind of hard to believe." He chuckles. "Can I see your hand?" He nods. She moves to place his hand on her stomach. "When they did the ultrasound the baby was right here- I know we can't feel anything but-" He nods lightly. "Spencer?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Are you really happy about this?"

"Yes I'm actually happy about this- I mean I'm nervous sure terrified even but I'm happy," Spencer assures her, "am I not supposed to be?"

"No no that's not what I meant- I mean I was so scared to tell you I didn't want you to feel trapped or that I ruined your life-"

"Ruined my life?" Spencer asks, "you've made my life a hundred times better- and sure this wasn't planned but it doesn't mean I'm not excited... It brings up practical problems like we don't have the space here- so we'll have to look at new place. Child care when we both are working. Do we want to look at nannies or daycares? But I figured we could worry about the questions later. That now we should just be excited." She smiles lightly. "I don't feel trapped either- I mean kids is a natural progression of things and we've mentioned wanting them before."

"Yeah but out of nowhere like this it can make you feel a little trapped-"

"Around 9 out of 100 women would become pregnant in a year of taking the pill- it's only 91% effective," Spencer starts, "in general unplanned pregnancies' are fairly common in long term relationships where the women is on the pill. We knew it was possible."

"Possible and it happening are two separate things-"

"You were nervous so you created reasons on why I'd be upset," Spencer says, "you wanted me to be upset."

"No- Spencer stop profiling me," She says at once.

"It's not profiling," Spencer says, "I'm not mad- or upset. I'm happy. Stop trying to make that a bad thing."

"I'm not making it a bad things," She sighs, "I was just worried you'd be upset. I'm glad you aren't. Makes me feel a whole lot better." He nods. Moving to take his fiancés hands "This will be a fun change from looking at wedding things... Now we get to look at a new place... House or another apartment?"

"I enjoy apartment life but space wise it would make more sense to look at houses," Spencer says. Y/n nods clearly satisfied with that answer. She smiles as she drags her partner towards the couch. "You eat yet?"

"No not yet wanna order something?"

"Sure," Spencer says as he grabs his phone to dial one of the takeout places. "Got a preference?"

"No I'm sure you can pick for us," She says as she grabs her laptop, "3 bedroom?"

"3?"

"Office space maybe," She starts, "library space? Huge walk in closet- you could have a nice tie wall." Spencer chuckles loudly. "Extra space in general pretty boy." He chuckles. "I think I found a place- look at this cute huh?"

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself-"

"Always Dr. Reid," She says brightly. He smiles. "I hope the baby has your smile."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah you have a cute smile."

"You have a cute smile too," Spencer says as he moves his arm around his wife, "Thai sound good?"

"Thai sound great," She says, "and thanks love." He moves reciting their order like he's done hundreds of times. She moves looking through the houses.

Despite all her original fears. It went right. Spencer was happy to hear about a baby. Excited even. It was working out for her.

"Thanks," Spencer says, "40 minutes."

"We should hold off on telling anyone until I tell my mom," She says, "and we should plan to go see yours." Spencer tenses lightly. "I think she should hear this in person."

"Alright I'll look at weekends I can take off," Spencer starts, "we can fly out then."

"In the meantime I need you to keep this on the down low," Y/n tells him, "don't go sharing this around. I don't need the entire FBI to know before I even get to tell my mom." He nods lightly. "But I know they are your family- so you can tell them after Friday. That good enough for you?"

"Perfect with me," Spencer says.

She smiles pulling him into a quick kiss. She knew they would be fine.

Bonus

The next day Spencer could hardly keep the dopey smile off of his face. Everyone knew something was going on. They weren't trying to press too much. But ultimately Spencer let it out on his own.

"What is Reid over there reading?" JJ asks as she leans closer to Emily. The girls try looking over the desk to see the man holding his book. Clearly trying to be discreet. He placed the book on his desk hoping to cover the book's title.

"Here is the best way to find out," Emily says standing from her desk. She moves pulling the book from his hand.

"Hey give that back!" Spencer exclaims.

"'What to expect when you're expecting a guide for new parents' You're having a baby!"

"What?!" JJ exclaims rushing towards them, "you and Y/n are expecting! Oh, that's amazing!"

"We haven't told anyone yet so keep it quiet-"

"Why are you three screaming?" Morgan asks as he and Garcia gather, "it's way too early for that."

"Reid's gonna be a dad," Emily says with a smirk.

"You knocked her up!" Garcia exclaims, "awe genius babies!"

"My man I didn't think you had it in you," Morgan says with a cocky smirk, "nice one Pretty boy."

"We were supposed to be keeping it quiet," Spencer says clearly getting annoyed with the others. He reaches to grab the book from Emily. However, she yanks it back. "Well so much for waiting til friday- any chance we can at least keep this from Hotch and Rossi? Make it seem like I tried not to get it out."

"What are you hiding from us?" Hotch asks firmly. He and Rossi were walking down from their offices.

"Baby Reid is own it's way," Garcia announces.

"Or let's tell Hotch and Rossi," Spencer says, "why listen to me huh?"

"Sorry Reid," Garcia says, "it's just too exciting! A baby!"

"Congratulations Reid," Hotch says, "how far along is she?"

"8 months," Spencer tells them, "she just found out yesterday."

"Solved the mystery illness," Rossi says.

"Yeah," Spencer says, "like I was telling them Y/n and I were trying to keep it under wraps because she hasn't told her mom yet- Then Prentiss and JJ decided they needed to know what I was reading-"

"You were being suspicious Reid," Emily says in her own defense, "And I was curious." Reid rolls his eyes. "You know the gender yet?"

"I'm done talking about this," Reid says as he yanks the book away from Emily, "I've got reports to work on."

"He's right everyone should get back to work," Hotch says forcefully. Spencer sighs as he looks back to his book. He slips something from the page he left off on. The ultrasound picture. He smiles lightly.

[introvertguide]

A Clockwork Orange (1971); AFI #70

The current movie under review is a well known but not often watched work from Stanley Kubrick, A Clockwork Orange (1971). It is one of the best known acting performances of Malcolm McDowell and it occurred very early on in his career. It turns out that McDowell plays a very good crazy. The movie was nominated for many of the major awards at the Oscars (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Editing) but didn’t win any because it went against The French Connection and Kubrick’s movie was so filled with explicit rape scenes that it was originally rated X. I am not one to judge a director’s vision, but it seems like the movie would have done a lot better without all the weird rape scenes. There is a lot of very beautiful cinematography as well, which makes the juxtaposition to the sex and violence all the more jarring. Let’s go over the plot and I will keep track of the violence:

SPOILER WARNING!!! THIS MOVIE PLOT IS ABOUT TO BE COMPLETELY SPOILED SO DON’T READ AHEAD UNTIL YOU HAVE SEEN IT ON YOUR OWN!!! UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU WANT TO BE ABLE TO KNOW AND REFERENCE THE MOVIE WITHOUT DEALING WITH ALL THE RAPE. IN THAT CASE, GO AHEAD AND READ AWAY!!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a futuristic Britain, Alex DeLarge (Malcolm McDowell) is the leader of a gang of minions he calls "droogs": Georgie, Dim and Pete. One night, after getting intoxicated on drug-laden "milk-plus", they engage in an evening of "ultra-violence", which includes a fight with a rival gang who are busy raping a girl (weird sexual assault #1 and violence #1). They drive to the country home of writer Frank Alexander and trick his wife into letting them inside. They beat Alexander to the point of crippling him, and Alex rapes Alexander's wife while singing "Singin' in the Rain" (weird sexual assault #2 and violence #2; this scene was cut down in the US to get an R rating). The next day, while truant from school, Alex is approached by his probation officer, PR Deltoid, who is aware of Alex's activities and cautions him. He does it at Alex’s house while on his bed and Alex is just in his underwear and Deltoid socks Alex in the nuts. Alex goes out that day and meets two girls and brings them home to have fast forward sex with them simultaneously (weird sex but not assault).

Alex's droogs express discontent with petty crime and want more equality and high-yield thefts, but Alex asserts his authority by attacking them (violence #3). Later, Alex invades the home of a wealthy "cat-lady" and bludgeons her with a phallic sculpture while his droogs remain outside (violence #4). On hearing sirens, Alex tries to flee but Dim smashes a bottle in his face, stunning Alex and leaving him to be arrested. With Alex in custody, Deltoid gloats that the cat-lady died, making Alex a murderer. He is sentenced to fourteen years in prison. His entry into the prison is shown in painful detail including a strip search for drugs. This includes a guard checking Alex’s butthole for drugs (which was cut down for an R rating in the US).

Two years into the sentence, Alex eagerly takes up an offer to be a test subject for the Minister of the Interior's new Ludovico technique, an experimental aversion therapy for rehabilitating criminals within two weeks. Alex is strapped to a chair, his eyes are clamped open and he is injected with drugs. He is then forced to watch films of sex and violence (weird sexual assault #3 and violence #5), some of which are accompanied by the music of his favorite composer, Ludwig van Beethoven. Alex becomes nauseated by the films and, fearing the technique will make him sick upon hearing Beethoven, begs for an end to the treatment.

Two weeks later, the Minister demonstrates Alex's rehabilitation to a gathering of officials. Alex is unable to fight back against an actor who taunts and attacks him (violence #6) and becomes ill wanting sex with a topless woman (attempted sexual assault?). The prison chaplain complains that Alex has been robbed of his free will; however, the Minister asserts that the Ludovico technique will cut crime and alleviate crowding in prisons.

Alex is released from jail, only to find that the police have sold his possessions as compensation to his victims and his parents have let out his room. Alex encounters an elderly vagrant whom he attacked years earlier, and the vagrant and his friends attack him. Alex is saved by two policemen but is shocked to find they are his former droogs Dim and Georgie. They drive him to the countryside, beat him up, and nearly drown him before abandoning him (violence #7). Alex barely makes it to the doorstep of a nearby home before collapsing.

Alex wakes up to find himself in the home of Mr. Alexander, who is now confined to a wheelchair. Alexander does not recognize Alex from the previous attack but knows of Alex and the Ludovico technique from the newspapers. He sees Alex as a political weapon and prepares to present him to his colleagues. While bathing, Alex breaks into "Singin' in the Rain", causing Alexander to realize that Alex was the person who assaulted his wife and him. With help from his colleagues, Alexander drugs Alex and locks him in an upstairs bedroom. He then plays Beethoven's Ninth Symphony loudly from the floor below. Unable to withstand the sickening pain, Alex attempts suicide by jumping out the window.

Alex wakes up in a hospital with broken bones. While being given a series of psychological tests, he finds that he no longer has aversions to violence and sex. The Minister arrives and apologizes to Alex. He offers to take care of Alex and get him a job in return for his co-operation with his election campaign and public relations counter offensive. As a sign of good will, the Minister brings in a stereo system playing Beethoven's Ninth. Alex then contemplates violence and has vivid thoughts of having sex with a woman in front of an approving crowd (weird sex), and thinks to himself, "I was cured, all right!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The book did not have as much of a downbeat ending as the film. There was a final chapter that explained that Alex had actually become cured and wasn’t obsessed with sex and violence. This final chapter was actually added after the book was published for American audiences and Kubrick, who lived in London, was unaware of it and didn’t include this in his movie. Upon being made aware of the new ending, he did not like it and ignored it completely. I think this was probably the right idea because it would have been a lot less memorable if it would have had a nice happy ending.

I find it interesting that the AFI has claimed this movie for America when it is clearly British. The movie is based on a well known British novel from a well known British author who was speaking out against American psychologists who were promoting behaviorism and cognitive behavioral therapy. The movie is set and filmed completely in London, England with an all British cast. The movie is also filled with artwork from famous British artists that were popular in 60s swinging London. The only claim America has is that it was not banned under the relatively new MPAA ratings, it was only heavily restricted with an X rating. England, however, stopped showing the movie because of the backlash from the religious right and the film was not available in the UK from 1973 to 1999. 

I watched the unrated version with commentary by Malcolm McDowell and his insight made for a much more interesting watch. It became apparent that Kubrick did not care much about the safety of his actors. The director had a hard time getting the actresses being raped to exude the fear he wanted since they were impowered British art students and were legitimately having fun. Kubrick did not want fun, he wanted realistic assault and trauma, dragging out these scenes with dozens of takes. Malcolm McDowell was physically injured when his character was assaulted on stage during the Ludovico demonstration. He was also afraid for his safety when he was being drowned by his former droogs. Finally, McDowell’s cornea was scratched when they were wedged open for the conditioning scene and the actor was temporarily blinded for weeks. 

It seems like I am being harsh on this movie and that I don’t like it, but I find it fascinating to the point that I have seen it a dozen times. The use of the false eyelashes on the top and bottom of only one eye gives Alex this look of having two sides. The use of blocking to show the allegiances of characters towards and against each other is directing along the lines of Orson Welles. The use of the music diegetically throughout that causes Alex’s condition is truly creative. McDowell was a great choice for the lead because his face is so expressive. I have not seen a better “happy angry” face with the exception of maybe Jack Nicolson. In so many ways, it truly is a great movie.

One reason for so many viewings is that I have seen this in some of my psychology courses, specifically in cognitive and behavioral classes. The whole Ludovico technique is supposed to malign the work of Watson and Skinner as reducing the reason behind one’s actions down to the environment, removing the idea of free will. When using behavioral therapy, do we just alter the stimulus and response so that a person has no choice but to obey? If so, is that taking away their freedom of choice thus making them less human? If a person simply chooses to be bad, is it their right to do so and they must face those consequences without outside influence forcing them to change? All very good questions that are brought up by this movie. 

So does this film belong on the AFI top 100? I am going to say no. It is a British film in every way except for the director, so much so that this movie is ranked by the BFI. It was rejected in the UK for a long period of time while it became somewhat of a cult classic in the US, but this doesn’t make it an American film. It is worthy based on quality, but is disqualified by location. So would I recommend it? Well...no. I like the film and it is fascinating at a psychological level, but it is a lot of art for art’s sake without consideration for humanity. The message is horrifically bleak and the movie is very uncomfortable to watch at times, and most viewers don’t want to be challenged in that way. If you want a movie that will purposefully offend you and test your sensibilities, then give it a try. If you want a fun or funny movie with a happy ending, then this is most definitely not the movie for you.

[drake-the-incubus]

Post Note: This is long and I’m sorry.

I want to expand on what I mean but not use that post to do so.

Believe it or not, “x is a sign of y” isn’t as harmful as everyone is screaming about.

For example, my knees. I intermittently use a cane. Recently I haven’t had to use it- or I’ve forgotten it- but I have had days where I needed it.

I’ve had bad knee pain for a long ass time. Issues with pain in my legs in general.

But a lot of the time it would be a dull throb and I was fairly active as a kid and teen.

I also have a joint cracking problem. And I don’t mean I’m purposefully cracking my joints- though I do- I mean I’ve earned the nickname, “snap, crackle and pop” and “rice krispies”.

And my mom, when I was 12, went in for osteoarthritis and after years of pain finally found out she had a degenerating back that caused her back to create shards and she had a pinched cyatic nerve.

Forgive me as I’ve never seen this written down.

I’ve also had a problem with being incredibly sick as a child. Bronchitis to Bronchial Pneumonia almost yearly, and a couple of gland infections.

Do you know what mom tells me and I do?

Warning signs. Very common and not at all unusual warning signs.

I’m at risk for arthritis. In fact mom and I are both certain if it’s not there in my knees it’ll develop at some point.

In fact, earlier this year, I had back pain. God awful back pain. It ran down one leg at some point.

So I asked my mom because these were the symptoms for her issues. She told me to immediately see a doctor.

To most, that’s an overreaction. But it’s not.

I’ll round back to my sickly childhood.

I have a devil of a cough, I’ll hack up a lung if I have a fit. In fact if I’m ill I have the chance to seriously damage my throat- Halls my saviour.

I’ve had colds turn into serious medical issues because they don’t go away on their own, and what was considered a cold turned out to be an infection.

So now I’m hyper vigilant. A cold that last three days with medicine, I go to the doctor. If it’s just a cold, I’ll refuse their medicine, if it’s bronchitis, I’ve caught it early and now can avoid an emergency room visit.

Because of this sickly thing I’ve had for over two decades of my life- since I was an infant/toddler- I now have to tell people I live with, “hey if I’m sick too long tell me I’ll need to see a hospital”.

COVID came around and I literally got messages from multiple people worried I was going to die if I caught it, and I’m going to say, I’m terrified. I’ve been in the hospital multiple times due to illness, days away from being hospitalized.

The virus fucking terrified me. I’ve had more than ten scares of having it, with no idea what I should do, so I treated myself with care, waited for day three, when it didn’t come I was relieved.

I’ve nearly died twice to an allergic reaction, to this day, I’m deathly allergic to two things and I don’t know what they are.

I’m also allergic- but not even close to severe- to other things I can shrug off.

I’ve also had a negative general allergy test. It’s where I found out my blood type.

But I’ve had my throat slowly close up as I took a specific anti depressant. I didn’t notice until my tongue had started swelling in my mouth, that I had more itchy skin than usual and I was having breathing issues. I got told I was a few days out from actual death.

For mental health. I have very weird applications of symptoms.

I can tell if someone is angry or not, I can have genuine conversations with someone and notice minute details.

I’m also traumatized and was forced into recognizing emotions.

But I don’t know when to stop a conversation. I don’t know when to interpret someone’s polite way of ending something. I don’t know the social etiquette to not embarrass people. I can be sociable, but I hate people and I never seek them out myself.

I’m not the model someone looks to for an AFAB with autism.

My trans status really pushed the diagnosis.

But I do have the symptoms, they’re just not presenting in ways that make people scream autism- more like scream freak.

And as a teen I never knew I had it. But I found people who related to me outside of a psychological textbook who explained my issues and gave tips that worked for once.

I was Fourteen before it clicked in my parents were abusing me. That it wasn’t normal to stop and listen to make sure those were their footsteps. If they were coming to my room. How heavy? Is that anger?

I’d explain normal life things and get people telling me it wasn’t normal and I needed to be away from it. That the behaviour was terrifying.

That if my parents were threatening to beat me black and blue, I should be trying to get out.

Trauma causes memory issues? How would I know that as a teen going to the police and not being able to say anything other than, “they threaten me when I brush my teeth”.

A terrified seventeen year old, describing how they were punished and the police couldn’t take them seriously, as they sobbed and begged to not go back.

In a week I had to return because there was no where else to go.

I couldn’t tell the police office my parents threatened my life that night.

I couldn’t remember why I was convinced by my friends online to run away.

My teachers got mad: “Did you think of your grades, you’re graduating this year”

Not even thinking about how I was suffering so much I got sent to the councillor- and then dumped- multiple times for suicidal ideation and the absolute terror I had in ever speaking of my issues.

It took meeting someone who was traumatized to learn I had panic attacks.

“Go take Your medication they give you for anxiety, you’re having a panic attack”

I’ve had them since I was a child and it took frantically talking in a chat room to figure it out.

I got half my diagnoses from the people around me before medically getting them. And that’s not a joke.

I had abnormally painful periods for my entire childhood, and it took a friend telling me it was probably bad I needed my mom’s painkillers for her back sometimes to even exist.

And do you know what, extremely painful periods is a sign for something really bad. And about 1/3 of afabs have that experience.

It’s considered normal. And yet it can lead to a deadly disease if you’re not careful.

A painful boob can be breast cancer.

A cough and fever could be COVID.

People relatively will explain their experiences in a way that people see is normal.

Making it Hard to actually convey how these experiences are normal for US but they’re not normal.

“Haha I Just found out reading a lot as a kid was a sign of PTSD” isn’t someone taking the piss abt PTSD, it’s a common experience due to escape fantasies. I know a lot of people, most who hate reading now, that explained how they’d read for hours as a child to get out of life, sometimes pretending to be something better.

And so in good conscience, I can’t say that post is great.

TDLR; The post that insinuates “x is a sign of y” comes off as ableist, as my lived experiences I know where this comes from.

Sometimes minor things can be a sign of something major and ignoring it doesn’t help.

Physical and Mental health are hard to convey, and most of the time someone doesn’t have the language or forethought to in depth describe their experiences.

[reds-self-ships]

🔎 The Adventure of the Detection Club

Chapter 4: Memoranda & The Great Detective's Plan

Table of Contents & Trigger Warnings

⚠ CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNING: This chapter contains mild references to death and crime scene descriptions, specifically through severe and repetitive blunt force trauma.

The police hadn’t gone away for even five minutes before *Sholmes, Susato, Ryunosuke and Redford gathered their things together and got into a cab, and were already on their way to the scene of the crime.

Mr. Sholmes put the end of his pipe to his lips, but no kind of smoke seemed to be coming out of it.

“So, Mr. Nineteen—”

“—Ninate—”

“Yes, that. You’re a crime fiction writer, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m also a student of English Literature with the University of London.”

“Well; I do believe that Mr. Naruhodo here also studies English. Well, that is, he studied it before he became an attorney anyway.”

“What? Oh, er—yes!” Ryunosuke exclaimed, his eyes darting about the carriage as though he was following a rather excitable fly.

“Is that so?” asked Redford, his right leg resting up on the knee of his left, stroking his chin with his right hand.

“Er, yes. Though, more as a foreign language than any of the ‘literature’ end of things, that is. You’d probably want to speak to my friend Asogi if you wanted to know anything about English literature.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Although,” added Susato, “there’s also plenty to say on Japanese literature. I’m sure Mr. Naruhodo could give you some recommendations if you ever get the opportunity to study up on it.”

“Yes!” Ryunosuke suddenly exclaimed. “A former client of mine—also a Japanese exchange student—has written his own book of late. He sent me a signed copy as a thank you for defending him in court, actually. It’s called…er…how would you say it in English…? It’s…‘Wagahai wa neko de aru’.”

“I believe it would be ‘I Am A Cat’, Mr. Naruhodo.”

“Oh yes, it would. Wouldn’t it?”

“No point in asking me,” Sholmes said. “I only know a few basic phrases, such as ‘Kutsū no Fukutsū’.”

Susato asked: “Do you mean to say that your stomach has shoes, Mr. Sholmes?”

“What—No! Er, anyway, as I was saying, I don’t speak the language that well.”

“I don’t know any myself, to be honest with you. Who knows, maybe I could learn some crime-related words? Or maybe some courtroom-related words if we ever end up getting that far.”

“Well then, I promise that I’ll do my best to get you found ‘Muzai’,” said Ryunosuke.

Redford and Sholmes sat and stared at him as he began to smile and blush awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head.

“That, er, that means ‘Not Guilty’ in Japanese.”

“Oh…!

——————————

The carriage pulled up in-front of the building that housed the headquarters of the Detection Club, which, even now, was almost entirely surrounded by police constables and blue wooden barriers marked “METROPOLITAN POLICE – DO NOT PASS” in white, stencilled writing.

“Ironic that the offices of a group of crime fiction novelists ended up becoming a crime scene itself, isn’t it?” said Sholmes.

“Definitely something that even I couldn’t make up. I mean, it definitely sounds like something I wouldn’t even be bothered to sit down and write about, now that I think about it. I mean—who’d even want to sit down and read such a thing?”

Ryunosuke came back with Susato after having had a word with the constable in-charge of maintaining the perimeter around the local area. “Alright, we’ve been cleared to enter the crime scene whenever we need to.”

Susato added: “Apparently Detective Jones already sent a telegram ahead to give his approval, and said that we can access any materials involved with the investigation. And that includes the victim’s autopsy report.”

Ryunosuke, Susato and Mr. Sholmes looked up to see that Redford had already deployed a fountain pen and a brown leather-bound notebook, and was already taking what looked to be some particularly in-depth notes.

“Er, Mr. Ninate—?”

“Yes? By the way, Redford or Red will do just fine. Mr. Ninate is my father.”

“OK, er, Red…what are you doing?”

Redford didn’t even lift his head from his work. “Taking notes. You do make notes when you’re investigating something, right?”

“Well, yes, but normally we just file stuff away in the court record as opposed to…”

Ryunosuke craned his head and tried to make out the sort of things that his client was writing. Was this the so-called ‘short-hand’ that Susato had suggested he try learning?

“…a novel, is it?”

“You know, I don’t even bother making notes,” said Sholmes, proudly. “I remember it all myself, then get Dr. Wilson to write it all up when I’m done.

(Which explains so much…so, so much…) said Ryunosuke, quietly to himself.

“Well I’d prefer to keep notes. Well, if you don’t mind, that is?”

“Well not really—”

Ryunosuke didn’t get to finish that sentence. “—Excellent. I’ll just keep making notes, pretend I’m not here.”

Redford continued his note-taking intently, as though nothing had even been said at all. Ryunosuke decided to allow that point to pass without notice.

“Alright then, so the name of the victim is Harris Thomas,” Ryunosuke read from the autopsy report supplied by a constable. “Cause of death is listed as ‘repeated blows from blunt instrument’.”

Mr. Sholmes pulled the photo of the body out of the envelope it came in, immediately putting it back in again as he pulled quite the expression. “Oh my. That’s rather gory.”

“Good to know. But we should get a look at it ourse—” Ryunosuke took the envelope from Sholmes’s hands, opened it, removed the photograph and looked at it. “Oh wow, that ishorrifying.”

Susato tilted her head slightly to one side. “I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, Mr. Naruhodo.”

The photograph, to phrase it gently, wasn’t much to look at. In fact, there wasn’t much left of the victim’s skull either, after the killer had finished what they had set out to do, that much was very much certain.

“A look around the crime scene proper’ll be able to tell us far more, though. Especially as this seems to be quite the locked room mystery as to how the killer managed to get in and out of the locked room after they killed the victim without being spotted or without any sign of forced entry or exit.”

“Well in fairness I did tell you it was a weird one. No forced entry, no other doors, a lock designed to break if it’s tampered with, and windows that barely open, all on the third storey, up there,” Redford pointed out, squinting as the sun reflected off of one of the higher windows of the building.

As the other three looked up, Redford quickly scribbled something out onto a back page of his notebook before tearing it out and handing it to Ryunosuke.

“Oh, thank you. Er…what is it, exactly?”

“A written memo, obviously. ‘No way in besides the key of the defendant. He maintains testimony that it remained on his person at the time. Only one such key exists to his knowledge. There is only one door into the room which didn’t appear forced, and as the windows only open a small amount and the room is up on the third floor of the building’.”

“I see. Thank you, then.” Ryunosuke passed it to Susato, who filed it away in her pocketbook.

“If you need me to write down anything else, do let me know.”

“Alright, er, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Right. Well then, after you,” said Redford, allowing Ryunosuke to step into the building ahead of him.

Before he could follow in after the pair, Susato caught Sholmes by his arm. “Excuse me, Mr. Sholmes…”

“Mm? What is it, Miss Mikotoba?”

“Are you planning something involving Mr. Naruhodo or Mr. Ninate?”

“No…what makes you say that?” the detective lied.

“Mr. Sholmes, you don’t exactly have the best track record for lying and being able to get away with it with any kind of great success for long, you know? You even weren’t able to keep Mr. Naruhodo’s surprise birthday party a secret from him for all of three days. And Iris and I only told you about it a week before it was due to happen!”

“Well how can I be expected notto talk to him and avoid bringing it up with him when we’re all living under the same roof?”

“What are you planning?” asked Susato, with the intonation as though she was talking to a misbehaving dog.

“Well I’ve been watching Mr. Naruhodo’s eyes all day since Mr. Ninate first came into Baker Street. He’s not been able to keep his eyes off of him all day! Even in the cab he didn’t know where to look without making it exceedingly obvious.”

“But Mr. Naruhodo ends up doing that most days anyway.”

“Still. I do believe he may have a bit of a ‘crush’ on this particular client – especially with the way that he took on the case so quickly, and especially given the particular circumstances of this case.”

“So I’m going to assume that making them share a room also falls under the idea of trying to get them together?”

“Precisely!”

“Mr. Sholmes, you really are something else, you know.”

“I try my best.”

Before they could continue any further, Ryunosuke himself shouted down the stairs.

“Susato! Mr. Sholmes! Are you coming?”

“Coming!” responded Sholmes. “Just…tying…my…shoelaces!”

“This isn’t over, Mr. Sholmes,” said Susato as they headed in together after the attorney and the writer.

*AUTHOR’S NOTE: Iris had decided to stay behind and try to repair the door that had been taken off of its hinges by the rather over-eager Detective Athelney Jones.

[elsac2]

Prompt by @darknessstartstorise

Hey, I saw your post about sending prompts. I am not sure if this is something you would be interested in. I am a fan of paranormal romances, and was wondering if you would ever consider doing an AU kinda based off the In your Eyes film. I wasn't crazy about the film itself but the idea of seeing through others eyes..that person being your soulmate and what not. I don't know if that is a very good one but figured I would put it out there for Richonne.

" and the hallucinations?"

Michonne raises her head at the question. 

She scratches her eyelids out of acquired habits. 

She blinks to centre her vision.

" It didn't last past a week," Michonne replies with a tone, which hides her lies.

" That's good."  

He kisses her, and Michonne remains stoic. Lying does not sit well with her, but she does not want to risk psychiatric internment over simple hallucinations due to a severe coma.

Michonne already made a mistake to say too much about her visual hallucinations. 

She would not truly call what she has hallucinations.  The thing is close to something, which she cannot explain. 

It feels like becoming blind to see through someone else's eyes. 

 She sounds crazy, and it only gets worse when she tries to explain.

"Don't worry," She cajoled her boyfriend. " the doctor says I'm recovering well enough. I will be ready to go back to work, Mike."

" and it's what worries me. " Mike replies, " You should take time to rest before jumping back into your job. The world won't end because an art gallery owner takes five days away."

Michonne smiles, and it is hardly different from a grimace.

"Yeah," she begrudgingly agrees. 

….

" and the hallucinations," 

Michonne sighs, and she should have been careful. She picks her shirt, and she begins to button it. Michonne almost feels vulnerable with all those wires on her.

" all gone," she regulates her breathing to maintain her heartbeat at an appropriate rhythm. 

" I hope it's not a lie," Michonne's doctor says as she feels a pile of documents, which Michonne needs. " I can't let you back on the field if you still are experiencing trouble with your sight." She raises her head and looks at Michonne.

" I feel brand new." She smiles.

" I'm going to clear you out for a desk job first," her doctor says." Two weeks later, you will be able to return to the field." She signs the files and returns it to Michonne.

Michonne is not happy, but it could be worse. She scratches her eyes. The discomfort is almost unbearable.

….

" Michonne,"  

She does not immediately reply. Even the loud yelling does not pull her out of it. It is nothing different from her usual hallucination.

A small scene of everyday life, she watches it happen enclosed in a body, which does not feel like hers. 

She lifts a little girl with blond curl waves, and she hears laughter. For a moment, she sits on the breakfast table with the girl and a teenager

"Dad,"  he calls her.

" Carl, finish your breakfast." She replies with a rather masculine voice. " your mother is coming to pick you up, and you know how she gets." 

"Michonne, " 

She breaks out of her hallucinations. Michonne looks around her, and she notices her heavy hand.

" What is going on with you?" Her colleague asks. " You froze while shooting." She adds. " maybe you weren't ready to come back. How many more sessions with the psychiatrist?" 

" I'm fine, Sasha" Michonne promptly responds. " I got shot before, and it is part of the job." She continues. " No trauma here. " She lies.

…

Carl 

Michonne writes the name on her note pad. She adds more of what she can remember. The hallucinations began after being shot while on a mission in Nicaragua. 

She draws from her memories the little girl. Everything feels strange about her visions.  

It feels like looking through a window.  

Michonne draws a deep breath. On the last day, the hallucinations have not bothered her. In a week, she won't need to be on the desk. She would go back on the field.

Michonne closes her notepad. It would slowly go away.

….

It does not go away.  She lets her cup of coffee fall. Michonne is no longer in her kitchen. She is staring through the windows. 

There are broken glasses everywhere. She stares at a gun. 

" You thought we would not find you, Grimes. " 

A man says while he presses the gun on her. It is not truly how Michonne can describe it. He points it on Grimes.  She is only behind the window watching it happen.

" It doesn't have to be that way,"  Michonne recognises the voice. 

It is always the same voice. Carl's dad or Grimes, and she begins to believe they are the same man.  Michonne does not get to see more, and the window shatters into darkness.

…..

" Michonne," Mike calls her.

She finishes packing dinner. He cooked, and she agreed to clean. Michonne has not had a hallucination in days. She scratches her eyelids.

Michonne is going to return to the field in a few days. She has her lie made up. Michonne would tell Mike that she has to go recover a piece of art in Malaysia. She has a mission in the country. It sounds like a simple one. Michonne only has to recover intelligence. 

"What?" Michonne yells from the kitchen.

" There is something on the news," Mike replies. 

Michonne assumes it is something about painting or an art gallery. She comes to the living room to feign interest.

" What is going on?" She asks when she sits.

" There is a local cop who has disappeared," Mike replies.

Michonne cocks an eyebrow. She does not see why he would call her over it. 

" Hmmm," Michonne says with slight confusion.

" Detective Grimes," He says the name.

Michonne freezes, and her eyes quickly turn to the TV.

It has been about a week since local hero Rick Grimes. One of Atlanta PD finest detectives also one known for his grand coup against drug cartels plaguing the city has disappeared.

On 7 March, his house was attacked, and the security alarm went off. The police arrived a few minutes later and found a scene of horror. 

Michonne registers the date. She loses part of what the news anchor relates. She thinks of her last hallucinations.

Blood has been found in Grimes' home with nobody in sight. There are many signs of struggle, and many clues lead to believe in a vendetta against the officer. 

Michonne scratches her eyes, and she leaves the room without a word. She retrieves her notepad, and she reads a detailed description of her hallucinations. Signs of struggles. It does not sit well with Michonne. 

It is nothing, but trauma. 

….

 For a minute, it is pitch black until the window is clean. She struggles to see blinded by the light.  Michonne stares at the face coming to focus.

" They are all looking for you, Grimes." 

There is no answer. She looks around her with slowness. She focuses on every little detail. She does not focus on what they say.  Michonne sees a foot coming toward her, and the image moves out of focus.

" You're going to rot here, and when we're done, they will find your body."  

Whoever the man talking to Grimes is, he spits toward him before living.

Michonne waits, and she continues to stare at the room.

"Michonne," she hears him mumbling, " That is your name, right." Grimes talks to her. " I know you're here." He insists, " I get in your head sometimes." He continues." Talk to me." He pleads.

Michonne panics. It all ends before she can respond. 

She leaves her desk. She rushes to the bathroom to wash her face. Michonne is frightened. It is insane. She is going insane. Nicaragua is coming to haunt her. Her entire career in the CIA is claiming her sanity. 

Michonne takes a deep breath, and she returns to her desk. 

She opens her motor of research, and she does what a good agent would do. She begins to dig.

….

Rick Grimes is a white man in his late thirty. By all standards, he is attractive. He is a father of two, and he recently divorced from his wife.  She finds nothing out of the ordinary. Until his date of divorce coincided with the day when she pulled out of her coma.

Michonne takes note of it.  She continues to dig. He is an excellent police officer, and he made himself some good enemy. From negan to Philip Blake, Rick Grimes is responsible for the biggest seizure in the Atlanta narco world. It is all impressive and yet nothing explains why she would build a story around him.

It started while she was lying on that wet floor in a dirty room of a hotel in Nicaragua. She had finished her mission. Michonne was waiting for extractions.  Someone burned her, and next she knew the bullets were breaking through the walls. 

An hour later, she began to have hallucinations. Nothing important more like little things she dreamed off. She spent six months in the coma. 

She spends six months in her head having a conversation. 

Those conversations became hallucinations when she opened her eyes. 

Michonne stares at the screen. She continues to read articles about Rick Grimes. He has a teenage son named Carl. 

 She searches Carl Grimes. 

Staring at the many pictures, she recognises the one from her drawing. Michonne switches off her computer.  

She is going insane.

….

Michonne fails to forget. She wakes up, and she has again fallen asleep on the sofa. Things have been different since she woke up from her coma. She doesn't like to share a bed with Mike anymore. She pretends to fall asleep on the couch. 

Michonne pulls her computer. Her mind will not allow her to forget. She has found all she could find about Rick Grimes. It does not answer her question. She needs more.

Sharing sight post coma 

Michonne finishes typing on Google. Many pages appear. She meticulously reads through articles. It is mayhem of information. There is a lot of useless information. Until a small article about death and soulmate. It is more ridiculous than the rest.

However, she reads it. It speaks to her. The little testimonies at the bottom of the article sound almost convincing.  

Michonne finds a scientific article about soulmates or half of an orange. She reads how it works. The intricate connection between souls and it is so rare that most people don't have one. 

Michonne ultimately returns to the article. It is ridiculous. She wants to believe it is written by some lunatic. Between the thousand comments, there is one by Maggie Rhee. The experience sounds like Michonne's one. She closes her computer.

…..

Hold on… don't sleep.

Michonne wakes up with sweat coating every inch of her body. She feels like puking, and she rushes to the bathroom. Michonne empties her stomach. For months, she did not remember the day in Nicaragua.

What is your name

Michonne recognises Rick Grimes' voice. The same one who pushed her to keep going and stay awake. 

Michonne stares at the mirror. She is going insane. She sits in the bathtub, and she searches for the ridiculous article. She remembers seeing Maggie Rhee' s number. 

Michonne calls, and she waits for someone to pick up.

….

Michonne has a soulmate if she can trust Maggie Rhee. Why would she trust a young woman who lived what she is living? She didn't understand the specific. 

Something happens when anyone is at the brink of death. The fracture of the soul and it only depends on how strongly your soul is linked to your soulmate. Her connection with Rick Grimes must be one stronger than iron.  

Whatever, Michonne understands is that she owes her life to Rick Grimes talking her back to consciousness. Now, it feels right. She always thought it was Mike keeping her alive with small talk.  

Now, she remembers where she picked her new habits. It all comes for hours, days, and months of conversation with Rick Grimes.  

Michonne draws a deep breath. Maggie told her to try and project. She tries and it does not work at first. She knew it was lunacy. Soulmates and life miracles are bullshit. 

…..

Michonne stares at the ceiling. She fails to forget. She plays some country music. Michonne used to hate it. She began to like it after resurfacing from her coma. It is the same way that she now loves deep southern accents. 

"Hello," Michonne hesitates. " If you hear me, reply. " she does not have faith it would work.

" I'm going insane." She concludes.

" As long as you do it after,"  

Michonne sees her ceiling fade.

" Richard Grimes?" She calls with hesitation.

" Yeah," he replies, " but Rick will do, Chonne."

It does not feel strange that he calls her that.

" I'm not insane," Michonne tells him. She looks at the room before him. " You're not in my head."

" I don't think you got it right," he replies with nonchalance.

" I'm in your head, and you're in mine." Michonne sounds crazy.

" That's my girl," He says with liberating joy. 

Michonne does not react to what he says, and it feels normal. She is his girl. Michonne has been for the last six months.

" You're dying," Michonne comes to term with reality. 

" No," Rick casually replies, " Not if you can help it." He says with confidence. " only stay with me."

….

Michonne does stay with Rick. He helps her, and she returns the favour. 

" What is your big plan?" He asks while he scans his surroundings.

" kill everyone in my way," Michonne replies while she straps her weapon.

" That is not a plan," Rick replies. " That is a suicide mission."

Michonne groans. They have been going back and worth. She knows Rick won't be alive for long if they continue to talk about it.

" Call the police," Rick deadpans.

" and tell them what?" Michonne retorts. " My soulmate is Rick Grimes, and he is in my head telling me that Merle Dixon kidnapped him in retaliation. They would think I'm insane." Michonne points out.

" You're insane." Rick rebounds. " A dozen men are here. What are you going to do alone? It is a heavy rotation of armed men." He points out.

Michonne grabs her duffle bag. She leaves her home. She carefully places a letter on the table for Mike.

" What is that?" Rick asks. " your fucking suicide note." He says with seriousness.

" My goodbye to Mike," Michonne replies, " I think he has been waiting for that break-up."  

Michonne enters the car. She drives to the place where she suspected they held Rick.

" Michonne," Rick attempts to resonate with her. " We're both going to die. Chonne, don't."

" Oh my god, " Michonne argues, " shut up Rick Grimes and waits for me to come and rescue you," 

…..

It is chaos, and a few men are on the ground. Rick manages to help himself up. A man watches him, and Rick opts for the clear solution. He jumps on the man before he can drag his gun out. He sinks his teeth in the man's neck until he bleeds to death.

Rick twists and gyrates until he can drag his hand in front of him. One of his shoulders slipped out of his socket through the effort. He grabs the man gun, and he begins to head toward the source of gunshots. 

He pushes the door, and he finds chaos. Most men are dead, and Michonne has melted into a headlock. A man runs toward her, and Rick immediately shots at him. She looks toward him, and he freezes into actions.

" behind you," Michonne yells.

Rick immediately fires behind him. Michonne continues to squeeze Merle windpipe until he loses consciousness.

" How much left?" Rick asks while he begins to head toward Michonne.

" None," She replies with a smile, " they were eleven men," Michonne tells him.

Rick fixes the safety of his gun, and he aims it toward merle. 

" Hello," He tells Michonne.

" Hello, Rick." She replies.

They exchange a look, and it quickly ends as the police siren song fills the air. 

" How do I explain this?" Rick laments. 

" The less crazy version."

…..

Rick indeed does not explain beyond a sketchy version where he killed eleven men. How else would he explain that his soulmate sees through his eyes and speaks in his head?

" You could have approached me," Michonne tells him.

" You wouldn't have bought the story," Rick replies, and he sips his beer.

" I…" Michonne hesitates. " I would have felt this pull." She decides to settle on the truth.

"I thought I was insane until I found you," Rick explains to Michonne. " I didn't want you to go through it." He confesses. 

" I still thought I was going crazy. I would get those flashes of your life and day after day." Michonne counters. 

" Sorry about that, I did think a lot about you. I couldn't always get you out of my head." Rick says. 

" So that it is the deal," Michonne asks. " We're soulmates, and…" she searches for what's next.

" I'm single, and so are you." Rick points out, " so far this first date is going well. We're facing a complicated topic. We're good at chemistry. We can try a second date. " He suggests.

" We can try a second date, " Michonne agrees. 

Their date is like many first dates, and Rick has the advantage of already having six months worth of conversation. Their date ends at the door of her apartment. Michonne does not know if it is the entire soulmate thing, but she finds him charming. She certainly likes his walk, and she can not say that about many men.

" Good night, Michonne," Rick says, and he reaches for her hand. 

Michonne holds him back, and she pulls him toward her. She rises on her toes and kisses him. 

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

15. The Rise of the True King

Word Count: 3478 Trigger Warnings: Institutionalization, abortion, potential stand your ground related trauma + References to warnings of previous chapter

Previous

“Everyone was terrified of her. You can ask anyone who went to the academy. She was a terrorist. She would lure you with her sweet-as-honey routine, and then she’d just flip and become this monster. Everyone who’s come out about her, I think, it’s much braver than me. Because even though I was close to her, I had a little bit of leeway for a while. As long as I did what she wanted me to do, I was safe. But when I no longer wanted to do what she wanted me to do… we became enemies.”

“I think it’s very brave of you to speak out, as well.”

“I just couldn’t live with myself if I let her get away with everything that she’s done. All of the violence, the bullying and oppression. She is literally a beast. A monster. Luckily, I was able to see her for what she was before it ruined my entire life…”

Grace cried, watching the interview in which Simon was saying these things about her.

Her mom walked in and asked, “What are you watching?” she saw Simon and ordered, “Turn it off.”

“Do you think that he really believes this or is he just an excellent liar?”

Her mother turned the TV off and took the remote from her, “Doesn’t matter whether he believes it or not. All that matters is that he’s saying it and everyone is hearing him. What matters is that you brought him into our life and now he’s soiling our good name all over television and the internet and in books and whatever else his voice can reach.”

“We were best friends…”

“Yeah, you told us that one before. Funny, he doesn’t seem to remember that. Maybe it never was. Gee, I wonder if anyone at all tried to warn you to stay away from this boy. If ONLY someone would have told you that he wasn’t right for you and that he didn’t love you…”

The past few months had been horrific. It began when Grace tried to get online and check to see if anything had been said about her video or her outburst at school. She panicked whenever she saw news about a video of her trending. She was temporarily relieved when she saw that it was her and Simon out on the terrace, then panicked again, because it had just occurred to her why he was moving so calmly… Because on video, it looked like he was gently speaking with her and trying to console her when she punched him in the face and started whaling on him. 

Grace Monroe is Over, Grace is Cancelled, Void Grace Monroe, and The Void were all connected to every post about her. “She’s an abuser! Poor Simon. I just want to give him a hug and brush his hair.” “I knew something wasn’t right about her. The sweet act seemed fake and manipulative and the Apex underneath her was rabid and vicious.” “Yoooo… I met her and she was so nice. This is bugging me out. WHY GRACE?” “This is precisely what I mean when I say abuse goes both ways. Girls can be abusive to boys too. I hope Simon has a good support system.”

She would have laughed if she could find some emotion other than hurt… She didn’t even know that she could hurt more after the fight, but somehow, she did. But, this wasn’t right. She had gone silent for days, but it wasn’t right that they got to spin things this way. MAYBE, she WAS a little violent, sometimes. But, she had NEVER hurt Simon, and certainly didn’t abuse him! And… she had been doing so much better. She had been checking her temper and her attacks. She had been less of a bully. It wasn’t that she wanted a cookie, but it hurt that she tried so hard to get herself away from her bad child routine, only to have her partner in crime let her be crucified this way. 

She threw on some clothes, knee pads, a mask and she snuck out of her fire escape. She just wanted to talk. Maybe the paparazzi caught this on tape and went running wild with it. Maybe… her Simon was in there somewhere. She took a car and left the gates, headed for Simon’s place.

Whenever she got there, she saw that the garage was open, but it had been cleaned out a lot. It didn’t look like a workroom anymore. She didn’t know if that meant that Mr. Laurent had finally gotten closure, or was moving to a different space. But, he was there. She didn’t know how much he knew. Usually, he didn’t acknowledge much that Simon did, but who knew WHAT Simon was doing or saying at this time. “Mr. Laurent?” she said as she approached. He turned suddenly then reached for a gun. ‘WHOA!” She put her hands up. “I’m sorry. I am gonna go…”

“You came into my sacred space, destroyed the memorial for my little girl, turned my son into a monster, and you just waltz up here without a care in the world?”

“I destroyed what? Hope’s memorial. I would never do something like…”

“Never say her name again. We have a restraining order on you. Now, I suggest you leave, before I have to stand my ground.”

“I didn’t do that,” she whispered as she got back into the car. “I would never do that…” She couldn’t believe that Simon would either. She was almost ready to pray to something or someone. That must’ve been what Simon had been talking about whenever they got into that fight a couple of weeks before. He let her take the fall for that, too? Was THAT story also circulating the Internet? Her phone rang and she answered it on the Bluetooth.

“My dad called the cops on you. You really should head back home.”

“Why did you do this to me? We couldn’t just… talk it out? I know that you’re hurting. I understand that…”

“You don’t understand anything. You’ve been spoiled from the moment you were conceived. You were given everything. You never had to work for any of it. You rose to the top, and it wasn’t enough for you. You needed everybody to like you. Didn’t care whether or not I did anymore. You didn’t even notice when I started to hate you.”

“I noticed… I just thought my brain was being mean to me. You know how our brains can do that, Simon? Maybe your brain was being really mean to you to make you think that I didn’t care, because I’ve always cared about you. I came over to talk because I love you.”

“Lies.” She heard a slight waiver in his voice. Maybe she imagined it. She sniffled. “Even if I had been wrong about you, I’ve made certain that you could never look at me the same way again. I’ve done everything necessary to stop you. Nobody could still love someone after everything that I’ve done.”

“That’s not true. I can love you through anything. I always have.” She heard a sniffle on his end, then he let out a chuckle. She envisioned him dotting his finger at the corner of his eye to catch his single man tear. “Simon… let’s just meet up and talk. I’m upset, but we can still change.”

“Why would I ever want to change when I’m always right?” He asked, hypothetically. She knew that it wasn’t something that he truly believed, or at least… she didn’t think he did. It was something that she used to say to him whenever he was worried about something. She was always just saying stuff to him to make him feel better, and maybe that was his point in throwing this back in her face. 

“Simon, why are you always worried about stuff when you’re always right?” she’d asked, and now she couldn’t remember the context of that question, but maybe he had a point. Maybe she was a liar, even to him. But… she didn’t mean any harm. She meant to help him. Everybody had always been so bad to him. She was sensitive. She couldn’t stand to see the boy she loved be in pain. She unfortunately had just stood there, in denial while that boy died. “I’m sorry, Simon,” she whimpered.

“Don’t be. I’ve already handled the problem myself, Void.” He hung up on her. 

When she pulled back into the gates that night, the police were there. 

It went from her sneaking out to “stalk and harass” Simon, to them wanting to search her room for items that they believed would tie her to various crimes. Her parents were livid, fussing at the police and calling lawyers. The police were insisting that they would wait for a judge to give them a warrant if they had to. 

“Young Lady, if you have a Hope Chest with criminal souvenirs in it, the best thing to do is to cooperate with us, and maybe the judge will go easy on you.”

“I have a Hope Chest with criminal souvenirs in it,” she said. At this point, fuck it. Her life was over. She might as well go to prison too, or wherever Simon was sending her. “Simon gave me things, and that’s where I kept them. Kids always gave me things, but I’ve kept Simon’s in my chest…”

“Stop talking to them, Grace! We’re on the phone with the lawyer,” her father said and to the officer said, “We TOLD you that we were contacting our lawyer and that you were not allowed to speak to her. She is a minor and you didn’t read her any rights. Nothing that you just coerced her to say matters.”

“Am I going to jail?” Grace asked the police officer. “I’m trying to cooperate…”

The woman officer looked sad for her. The man was simply annoyed by her parents making things harder.

At the end of the night, they were able to convince the Monroes to drive Grace to the precinct to make her statement, and they were given a search warrant and Grace gave them the hope chest in question. After everything, she couldn’t believe how painful it was to let go of this. But, it was understandable too. This was years of tokens of Simon’s friendship and love (and maybe even worship). Simon had taken back everything he’d ever given her from his heart. She would have thought that would have been her breaking point.

The lawyers would have to battle to prove that all of these things were given to her and that she wasn’t associated with the crimes in question, but Simon, being the little shit he was had what was tantamount to a ledger of crimes and the souvenirs that were taken from them. Some of them Grace was present for, some she wasn’t. Simon was giving the information up, so that made him look less guilty, like she had somehow maneuvered all of it. She would admit that she was responsible for a few. But, more often than not, Simon’s temper brought on a lot of these crimes. She simply had been so fond of him that she liked that about him. They were young. It was them against the world.

But, with this new narrative of her being a juvenile delinquent and puppet master, Simon had to look even more sympathetic. How, you ask? Releasing his “journals.” Simon had notebooks full of his obsession with Grace and the things that he would do for her. While her lawyers insisted that if anything, they should prove that SIMON was responsible for these things, there were going to be doubts. Grace had been the one to establish their presence at the Academy. People hadn’t touched him because they knew that she was powerful enough to shield him. She had bent fingers back. She had uppercut Shana. She had punched Simon repeatedly on her terrace, for simply talking to her.

Her parents insisted that she tell them what they could use against him, starting with why she had attacked him on the terrace. They were getting desperate to clean this matter up. She couldn’t do it, and she knew that Simon knew that she wouldn’t. She knew that Simon knew that there was no way that her mouth would ever admit to her parents that Simon made a sex tape of her and spread it around the school. If they were going to find that out, it couldn’t be from her.

And now, still going through settlements, trying to keep her record clean, and a very emotionally disturbing trip to the gynecologist, there she was, watching him on TV, speaking about her this way. Her mother, who couldn’t even be bothered to hold her hand as she cried about having to have an abortion at the edge of 17, standing there judging her and giving her “I told you so’s.” This boy was ruining every fabric of her. He knew her from the inside out and he was ripping everything to shreds and making everybody witness it…

"We loved each other, once. The things we did for each other, with each other…”

“It is an embarrassment to our reputation and to your father and I, personally. We thought we raised you better than this. We even accepted it when you brought that common rodent into our home, into our lives, and we treated him like he was worthy of respect because you asked personally. We should have known not to listen to you. You make bad choices. You’re not very smart. You’re difficult to love. It was such a wonder that you even had a friend, that we accepted him. Even though he was nothing more than vermin… and he proved that we’ve been right not to associate with the likes of common folk. You played with your pet rat, then left him outside of his cage. And now he’s covered our name in filth. Best friend… he clearly never thought you were worth anything. The moment he found a route to success without you, he took it. Left you criminalized, brokenhearted and pregnant. We taught you better than this.”

“You didn’t teach me a goddamn thing!” 

Mrs. Monroe slapped Grace in the face at that declaration. She had never been so bold before to do this. She’d usually cut Grace down with words, maybe a little force of hand. But just to slap her in the face? Never before. Then again, Grace had been infuriating for months. Not cooperating with the people trying to save her from this Simon mess, making them look bad, making terrible decisions… PREGNANT? She came crying, in the midst of a massive media scandal and a dive from high society to add to her growing criminal accusations that she spent an entire weekend letting that scarecrow impregnate her? Her mother had had it. On top of all this, she dares to curse at her and raise her voice? 

But, when she slapped her in the face, Mrs. Monroe immediately regretted it. Maybe there was some truth to Grace’s accusation. Because, how else could she have fucked up this royally with such a substandard child as Simon Laurent? These were things that she thought about all in a moment’s time. Because when she parted her lips to apologize, for once for losing her temper so badly and slapping her only daughter in the face, she didn’t get the chance to speak it out loud. Instead, she met the Grace that the kids were allegedly afraid of. She had to admit, that was terrifying.

Grace roared and attacked, at this point, angry at her mother, angry at Simon, angry at herself… Mostly herself. She had lost her only friend. She wasn’t perfect. She failed him, her parents, herself… and she didn’t even have a career anymore. She didn’t even have his tokens anymore. She didn’t have… a baby… that she would have been hard pressed NOT to love with all of her heart, even coming from him. But, she knew that with all of this, there was no way that she could add, “teenage mother” and that kid probably would have been taken away from her like everything else.

Next thing she knew, she was at the mental facility. She heard them promising to take care of her. She heard them ask her parents about scheduling visits. she heard her father sternly say, "We will not be back unless you contact us to tell us you’ve fixed her.” she cried. So, now they believed in getting her help? When she was so far gone that she couldn’t think straight? or… was this just goodbye? She caused them so much distress they decided that they’d rather shut her away than ever have to deal with her failures again? She began to pace, crying profusely. She had never been this alone before… and her only comfort now was a needle that forced her to sleep.

Simon received a barrage of tags and he opened the story to see multiple publications covering Grace being dragged from her home, kicking and screaming and being brought into a mental institution. His heart stopped. His first impulse was to cry. He felt the tears creeping up, but he cleared them away fast. It wasn’t his fault she turned him against her. This was what she got for misleading him. He smirked and reposted her screaming like a demon while they tried to get her into the vehicle, with the caption, “Stop sending me this shit.”

He was closing a book deal about all of this. There had been reports of seeing Grace be concealed and sneaking to a facility where it was speculated that teenage elites go to “get rid of certain problems.” A few Apex girls admitted that it was THE go to place for a rich girl to have a quiet abortion. That was the main thing that they went there for, though a few said that it was also to confirm pregnancies before sending them off (for the more religioso types) and to “hide an attack or abuse” for the straight up monsters raising teen girls. The point was that everyone seemed to agree that there was no way that Grace was going there for anything other than handling a pregnancy however the Monroes saw fit.

On the one hand, he couldn’t imagine ever having a family with anyone else, at one point. On the other, he was rising to his true form. 17 now, and famous without her. Every publisher wanted his book. Every personality wanted an interview. Every student wanted to stay in his good graces. Colleges were looking at his situation as a survivor and a scholar, helping him transition from the break up between himself and the Monroes, and he had taken the Apex over. Grace was voided. He had won. The true king had risen, with a new vision for his future. Over time, he knew that the old dreams would fade. Her face, her laugh, her eyes, the scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth when she held him close and cupped his face, the shivers it sent through him when she lied and said that she cared, that she loved him, that she was his…

He couldn’t get close to anyone else. It just wasn’t possible. Even if he thought he could trust someone. All they had to do to make him think about her was enter his personal space, and he couldn’t have that. He dreamed about her, still. About their good times. He even sometimes thought that when they gave themselves to each other that she was sincere, that this access to her body wasn’t just another weapon that she was using to make him her slave. Because, she almost had him that weekend. He was ready to give up everything he planned to do to take her out. He was ready to submit to her again and settle for whatever warped notion of love she expected him to take. 

Then, he’d remembered his vision of the void that had taken her away from him. He remembered the impending loneliness of her being the one with the power to leave him. He pushed the feeling of her body and their fake union from his mind long enough to do what needed to be done. After that, everything started falling into place. 

By the time he watched the videos and some with remixes of her own songs (his favorite being one about being “Taken Away” (by love) as she was dragged off… he realized that all of his fondness of them was basically dried up. Without that attachment holding him back, his mind couldn’t even fathom how far he could go.

Next

[niflim]

headcanon: mental health, psyche, etc.

beneath the cut is both an explanation of dysthymia ( persistent depressive disorder ) in addition to major depressive episode, post - traumatic stress disorder and acquired brain injury via mako poisoning in the context of cloud’s life.

i hope to present this information in a completely analytical way, free of any perceived bias. so it is also my hope that you inform me if i have in any way misstepped. it’s not my intent to offend, merely to provide my view on what cloud experiences, which i understand can sometimes be a dangerous thing in today’s world. this is a long post, but i do hope that you at least give it a skim ! i apologize for the blockquotes, if i could’ve linked individual sections, i definitely would’ve.

dysthymia & major depressive disorder. cloud develops dysthymia during his childhood. i wouldn’t call it simply major depressive disorder because his behavior doesn’t occur for mere weeks at a time. it’s on a larger scale and persists for at least two years ( one year in children and adolescents ). most people would assume that any depressive disorder would cause someone to become, well, depressed. but the interesting thing about adolescents is that they are actually more prone to irritability than so - called ' depression ’. 

criterion as per the dsm - v ( taken verbatim ) is presented below:

‘ a. depressed mood for most of the day, for more days than not, as indicated by either subjective account or observation by others, for at least 2 years.

note: in children and adolescents, mood can be irritable and duration must be at least 1 year.

b. presence, while depressed, of two (or more) of the following:

poor appetite or overeating.

insomnia or hypersomnia.

low energy or fatigue.

low self-esteem.

poor concentration or difficulty making decisions.

feelings of hopelessness.

c. during the 2-year period (1 year for children or adolescents) of the disturbance, the individual has never been without the symptoms in criteria a and b for more than 2 months at a time.

d. criteria for a major depressive disorder may be continuously present for 2 years.

e. there has never been a manic episode or a hypomanic episode, and criteria have never been met for cyclothymic disorder.

f. the disturbance is not better explained by a persistent schizoaffective disorder, schizophrenia, delusional disorder, or other specified or unspecified schizophrenia spectrum and other psychotic disorder.

g. the symptoms are not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., a drug of abuse, a medication) or another medical condition (e.g. hypothyroidism).

h. the symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. ’

symptoms that apply: insomnia, low self - esteem, poor concentration / difficulty making decisions, feelings of hopelessness.

i’m going to be tackling this going down the list.

a. in cloud’s childhood, cloud comes off as fairly irritable, especially towards tifa’s friends. his lack of self - esteem showed itself in a heightened opinion of himself, as arrogance tends to. he decided he was better than the other kids, therefore he shouldn’t be bothered that he can’t hang out with them. this is relatively weak, admittedly, to what i will be discussing next. it’s only one symptom as opposed to the two required. 

b & c. the event that took place when he was nine and tifa was eight, after the death of her mother and the trip to mt. nibel, really hammers the point home. because of his perceived incitement of the expedition rather than his attempt to help tifa, he was met with the ire of the adults and dissuaded from talking to tifa. this introduces way more irritability in the form of cloud’s anger problem and inappropriate feelings of guilt that are associated with an episode of major depressive disorder.

according to an article published by the h.arvard medical school: 

‘ symptoms can grow into a full-blown episode of major depression. people with persistent depressive disorder have a greater-than-average chance of developing major depression. while major depression often occurs in episodes, persistent depressive disorder is defined as more constant, lasting for years ’.

at least, cloud experiences a major depressive episode ; at most, he develops the full - blown disorder. given that he’s been experiencing persistent depressive disorder with at least two points in his life where he has had a major depressive episode ( mt. nibel, failing to make it into soldier, during advent children ), i’d wager that the latter situation is the reality. 

d. since major depression disorder is chronic and tends to come in episodes during particularly taxing times, it can still be present when one is diagnosed with dysthymia. major depressive disorder comes with four additional symptoms: excessive guilt / feelings of worthlessness, s.uicide ideation, loss of interest, psychomotor agitation / r.etardation. cloud does indeed experience excessive guilt, as discussed above, and i would wager that he does go through a period where he has feelings of worthlessness and he definitely loses interest in making friends.

e, f, g. i wouldn’t classify cloud’s ‘ substance - related illness ’ / mako poisoning as grounds for a manic episode. nor does it cause substance - related depression ; this is merely the situation framing his contact with mako.

h. this condition causes a lot of issues in cloud’s social life as shown by his relationship to the other kids ( though it was in part due to their exclusivity ) and his easy - to - anger personality.

i believe that it is also worth noting that the aforementioned article also reveals that ‘ some people with persistent depressive disorder have experienced a major loss in childhood, such as the death of a parent ’. cloud went through the loss of a father at an early age, i headcanon around age 5 / 6, and growing up without a fatherly figure can be rough for a child. i know without a doubt that claudia could only do so much to make sure her son grew up fine. that is not to bring her down or any single mothers down, there is no doubt she loved her son dearly, but it still isn’t something that can be ignored. i’m sure cloud owes his open mind, kindness, and protective nature to her, and that is also something that made him vulnerable to the other kids’ teasing, leading cloud to become depressed and try to be tough and hide his emotions.

post - traumatic stress disorder. it goes without saying that cloud has experienced multiple traumatic experiences in his life. there’s the events at mt. nibel & tifa’s coma, the nibelheim incident, and zack’s death. so instead of proving the trauma that is undoubtedly there, i will instead be speaking of the symptoms that he experiences due to the disorder.

criterion as per the dsm - v ( taken verbatim ) is presented below:

a. exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence in one (or more) of the following ways:

directly experiencing the traumatic event(s).

witnessing, in person, the event(s) as it occurred to others.

learning that the traumatic event(s) occurred to a close family member or close friend. in cases of actual or threatened death of a family member or friend, the event(s) must have been violent or accidental.

experiencing repeated or extreme exposure to aversive details of the traumatic event(s) (e.g., first responders collecting human remains: police officers repeatedly exposed to details of child abuse).

note: criterion a4 does not apply to exposure through electronic media, television, movies, or pictures, unless this exposure is work related.

b. presence of one (or more) of the following intrusion symptoms associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred:

recurrent, involuntary, and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic event(s). note: in children older than 6 years, repetitive play may occur in which themes or aspects of the traumatic event(s) are expressed.

recurrent distressing dreams in which the content and/or affect of the dream are related to the traumatic event(s). note: in children, there may be frightening dreams without recognizable content.

dissociative reactions (e.g., flashbacks) in which the individual feels or acts as if the traumatic event(s) were recurring. (such reactions may occur on a continuum, with the most extreme expression being a complete loss of awareness of present surroundings.) note: in children, trauma-specific reenactment may occur in play.

intense or prolonged psychological distress at exposure to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s).

marked physiological reactions to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s).

c. persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by one or both of the following:

avoidance of or efforts to avoid distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s).

avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s).

d. negative alterations in cognitions and mood associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

inability to remember an important aspect of the traumatic event(s) (typically due to dissociative amnesia and not to other factors such as head injury, alcohol, or drugs).

persistent and exaggerated negative beliefs or expectations about oneself, others, or the world (e.g., “i am bad,” “no one can be trusted,” ‘the world is completely dangerous,” “my whole nervous system is permanently ruined”).

persistent, distorted cognitions about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s) that lead the individual to blame himself/herself or others.

persistent negative emotional state (e.g., fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame).

markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities.

feelings of detachment or estrangement from others.

persistent inability to experience positive emotions (e.g., inability to experience happiness, satisfaction, or loving feelings).

e. marked alterations in arousal and reactivity associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

irritable behavior and angry outbursts (with little or no provocation) typically expressed as verbal or physical aggression toward people or objects.

reckless or self-destructive behavior.

hypervigilance.

exaggerated startle response.

problems with concentration.

sleep disturbance (e.g., difficulty falling or staying asleep or restless sleep).

f. duration of the disturbance (criteria b, c, d, and e) is more than 1 month.

g. the disturbance causes clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.

h. the disturbance is not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., medication, alcohol) or another medical condition.

a. we’ve already established that cloud fits this criterion because he has the disorder.

b. cloud experiences intrusive or recurrent memories of the traumatic event (1) in addition to dreams that put him as a player in the burning of nibelheim. he usually takes zack’s role until his memory is restored (2). given that cloud has multiple instances in which sephiroth visits him in a vision while he is awake, there also some instances when they’re just that ... visions / flashbacks of his trauma outside of the influence that sephiroth holds on him (3). cloud experiences distress and pain whenever he’s visited by a vision of sephiroth or the mention of zack’s name (4, 5).

 c. though his behavior is certainly the closed off sort, he doesn’t avoid tifa. in fact, he is drawn to her as a survivor of the event and a supposed dear friend. he does, however, present himself as emotionally closed off, for the most part, save for some softer moments where he acts protective of his newfound friends (1, 2).

d. cloud definitely misremembers the events surrounding the nibelheim incident and zack’s death, instead becoming confused by the memories zack told him about and believing himself to be zack (1). cloud is instilled with the belief that despite now being a merc, he has to be the perfect soldier which would require him to be strong, resourceful, and careful with his emotions. he takes a no -  nonsense approach to life. this tends to fail (2). cloud feels somewhat responsible for tifa’s father’s death even in his false memories and, also, later feels responsible for zack’s death once he knows the truth. he feels that it is in some way his fault (3). cloud maintains a somewhat pissy attitude for the first half of the game, but, ultimately, this doesn’t entirely apply to him (4). cloud feels a diminished interest in being friends with tifa’s friends, especially after the incident that caused his initial trauma and feels even more separated and detached from them. this is also how he handles his initial interactions with the members of avalanche, though they eventually get through to him (5, 6). he’s emotionally closed off, as mentioned above, and is more prone to anger. but people who show him understanding and the praise / acceptance / acknowledgement he secretly wishes for, he cracks a smile.

e. he is easy to anger and gets into fights with the other kids after mt. nibel (1). cloud, somewhat recklessly, goes off to become a soldier. though not conditionally reckless, i do think it’s odd that simply trying to impress someone could push him to do something like that. maybe some part of him wanted to be more than he was, not just to earn tifa’s attention (2). cloud is very alert and aware of his surroundings. it’s in part battle instinct, in part training, in part trauma - induced (3). this one is hit or miss, it really depends (4). no problems with concentration, unless in the throes of a vision (5). we experience how restless cloud is in how easily he wakes up. when tifa knocks, when there’s the clone next door, when he’s at aerith’s house. he’s a light sleeper (6).

f. yes, it’s been more than a month.

g. this does cause social issues.

h. given that this condition was present before cloud’s mako poisoning, it is not the result of a substance. however, mako poisoning did make things worse.

acquired brain injury - mako poisoning. one of the causes of an abi happens to be poisoning compared to trauma caused by an impact or injury in the event of a traumatic brain injury. injuries of this sort can create permanent or temporary damage to one’s psyche --- cognitive, physical, emotional, or behavioral. this happens to cloud twice. given that he doesn’t necessarily recover from his mako poisoning entirely before falling in the lifestream again, his already active condition actually worsens. without zack’s stories to supplement his memories the second time, he completely loses himself and remains vegetative until tifa aids him in piecing together their shared past. it’s not all her, as cloud does have a hand in it, showing that he hasn’t completely lost himself, his mind is merely scrambled in a sort of dissociative amnesia that requires outside help to set right. this contributes to his depression and anger issues ( though, admittedly, they’ve diminished for the most part in his soldier state ). this also contributes to his memory loss. if anyone is curious, i can attempt to write more on this later !

sources: dsm - v, abi wiki ( the sources here checked out ), h.arvard health publishing.

[sweetsmalldog]

Finding the Lost Part 4

Part 3 Part 5

Warnings: Mentions of child death, mentions of drug use, alcohol, swearing, blood, parental death

Description: Tatiana gets some answers but also many more questions

Author’s Note: Curt doesn’t half to actually be here for me to make him suffer

Tatiana knocks on the apartment door. The door opens to a slightly manic Owen Cavour. His button up full of wrinkles, his complexion pale, and his eyes red from the irritation of him rubbing them.

“Hello I’m Detective Slozhno.” She greets.

“Hi Doctor Carvour.” He replies his voice stiff as he lets her in.

Tatiana’s boots clacked on the polished dark wood. The room was spilt leveled with the living room on a lower level. The matching couch, loveseat, and armchair were all dark leather. A scratching post was sitting in the corner of the living room by the large windows that had a beautiful view of the city.

Three fluffy cats sat in different parts of the room. One was curled by a running laptop on the couch. One was sprawled on the armchair seemingly asleep. And the last one way on top of the loveseat.

Owen gestures for her it sit on the couch with him as he moves his laptop to his lap awkwardly.

She sits “Ok I’m just going to ask a few questions.”

“I need to say something’s first.” Owen’s voice was taunt “I know I’m not an investigator but this goes deeper then you think.”

She sent him a look “What?”

“Empaths going missing this is deeper then Curt. At least twelve Empaths have gone missing in two weeks.” Owen breathes “I know that sounds like a low number for a city like this but their are only about sixty Empaths living here”.

“How do you know that?” She questions, what was Carvour on?

“I study Empaths. It’s my job. Ever heard of the Diane Mega foundation?” Owen asks.

“No...” She trails off.

“It was created to help Empaths understand their powers and what effect they have on them.” Owen replies.

“Who’s Diane Mega?” Tatiana says as she scratches the cat under her chin.

“Curt’s mother.” Owen sighs.

“What?” Tatiana meets Owen’s eyes.

“It was founded by Curt’s aunt. I don’t know why it was named after her.” Owen shifts “But it was.”

“Why?” Tatiana questions.

“I can only imagine because she watched Curt suffer threw his childhood with no way to help him.” Owen replies softly.

“What could Curt do?” She would really like to understand who the fuck she’s looking for.

“Curt just had your basic Empath power, feeling the emotions of others.” Owen continues “But usually Empaths have mental walls that stop them from receiving the emotions of absolutely around them, Curt didn’t have those.”

“Why not?” Tatiana inquires.

“From what I can tell, childhood trauma.” Owen takes a large sip of his ice water.

“What happened?” Tatiana was getting real sick of this game of twenty questions.

“He felt his mother die.” Owen answers softy.

“Oh shit.” Tatiana mutters.

“He was lucky to be alive.” Owen sighs “Most Empaths whose mental barriers break don’t live to see twenty-five.”

“Why?” Tatiana felt sick.

“Some become addicts to try and numb their senses, some commit suicide, but most die of medical issues related to the constant stress their under.” Owen was staring at his computer.

“That’s horrible.” Tatiana murmurs.

Owen nods mutely.

“Did he ever tell you what it felt like?” Tatiana asks.

“What?” Owen looks up to face her.

“What her death felt like?” She returns.

“I don’t think I can really convey it like he could.” Owen sighs and Tatiana feels bad for asking “But he can tell you.”

Tatiana gave Owen a look of please explain.

“I record all my interviews that involve how trauma effects Empaths, it’s all research for a paper I’m writing.” Owen explains “I can show it to you if you want.”

Tatiana nods. As another cat lands on the couch. Unlike the others it’s sleek and curls against Owen. Owen scratches the back of the cat’s neck without looking up from the laptop.

After a few clicks Owen turns the laptop to face her. The video shows Curt in a simple blue t-shirt and a navy flannel and he had large bags under his eyes. He was in the same living room as she currently sat. Owen presses play.

“You don’t half to do this.” Video Owen reminds from off camera.

“I know.” Video Curt sighs and pauses for a moment before speaking “I was five. I don’t remember what I had been doing all I remember is someone knocked on the front door. My mom didn’t even check who it was she just led me into her bedroom and told me that no matter what I had to quiet. She gave me one last hug and told me she loved me before she locked me in the closet. I could feel her fear. And she was so scared.”

Tatiana watched as Video Curt took a long drink from a glass of whisky. “The front door burst open. And a man walked in. He started screaming at my mom about money and my dad and my dad owing money. But my mom didn’t have any money and my dad wasn’t going to pay so he slammed her against the closet door and screamed louder. I had to put my hand on my mouth to make sure I didn’t make a noise. My mom was terrified.”

“Curt?” Video Owen murmured “You ok.”

Video Curt gives his partner a shaky nod “And The man he... he stabbed her. And I felt it. And it just it felt like nothingness. Her fear was gone, but so was she. There was just nothing. No feeling. No fear. No anger. No pain. Just emptiness. Just blankness. Void. And it’s not even a color. It’s just nothing. No senses. No light. Nothing.”

Video Curt was crying. His breath was unsteady. “We can stop.” Video Owen tells him.

“If I don’t finish this now I never will.” Video Curt wiped his tears on his flannel.

Video Owen sighed but doesn’t say anything. Video Curt took another long drink from his glass.

“After that there was a dull thud, as her body hit the floor.” Video Curt murmured “I don’t remember how long it was before the blood started to seep under the door.”

She glances at Owen. Owen’s jaw is clenched. She can’t tell if it was the pain of hearing Curt in so much pain or if it was just because it was Curt, his partner, who could be gone, dead, out of his life forever.

“But the blood seeped under the door. And I sat there. Hand on my mouth. In the dark. Alone. Hearing my mother’s murderer trashing the house. It felt like hours.” Video Curt wiped his eyes again “Then the police showed up. They arrested the guy but I couldn’t move the door. They walked into the bedroom but I couldn’t bring myself to make noise. The neighbors came in. The police were ushering them out when one said ‘where’s the boy?’ The officer demanded to know what she had been talking about. She told them that I existed, that I was somewhere. I finally could bring myself to slam my hand on the closet door.”

Tatiana could feel her stomach turn. She pet the fluffy white cat laying between her and Owen behind the ears. In an attempt to ground herself.

“They eventually got me out.” Video Curt’s voice was hallow “I saw her body. It was so bloody. You couldn’t look around the room without being met without seeing the blood. It was on everything.”

Video Curt broke at that. His body was wracked with sobs. The tears fell more freely from his eyes. Video Owen rushed to Curt’s side. And the video cut out.

The two of them sat in silence until finally Owen clears his throat “It’s getting late Detective, we can talk tomorrow.”

Tatiana nods as she stands “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Taglist: @robertstanion @gone-to-oregone @haniawritesthings @cracks-open-cold-one @agent-megagirl @purplegori @showstoppingnumbrr @imtooaromanticforthis @declansdumb

[jacob712horrorstories-blog]

The Things Made of Spare Body Parts

It all started two months ago. A guy was walking his dog in the park when he saw a dead body in the bushes. He was startled but thought it may have been a botched robbery. The police were called, and it was going to be a regular investigation. The troubling evidence came during the autopsy. She was missing seven teeth, three ribs and her femur. At first, it seemed that the murderer was some sick bastard that took his prize from his victim, but there were no wounds on the woman’s body. She was missing ribs, but her torso was completely intact as well as her leg that had a femur taken from it. The missing teeth could have been due to previous bad hygiene, but it didn’t explain the other missing bones. There were no cuts or scars on her skin which would indicate surgeries or injuries at the scene. It was like they were plucked from her body without a trace.

I work as a news anchor in town and have close relations with public authorities, including the police; guys I’ve worked with for the past 12 years were too scared to tell me about the crime. It was agreed we’d do the story about a murder in the park but leave out the missing bones until an adequate explanation came up. Just three days later, another body surfaced. This time, it was a man in his shower. Initially authorities thought he slipped and died from a head injury, but there were no signs of trauma. Another autopsy was performed, and more chilling evidence was discovered. He was missing his jaw and all the bones in his right hand were gone. Again, no cuts, scars or signs of injury were evident. It was as if the same guy who killed that poor woman killed him as well. I did a deep dive on the two people using social media and any conversations the families would give me but there was no connection. She was married with a husband, he was a single guy who moved into town a few months ago. They didn’t work together, go to the same church or grocery store for that matter. Police were curious if the two were having a relation behind her husband’s back and he was getting revenge, but that theory was squashed almost immediately. The husband was out of town for a business trip during both deaths and had receipts and alibis to prove it. There was a killer on the loose, who took two victims with no ties to each other.

The next week, another man was killed. He was found in his bed without a trace of foul play. The autopsy revealed there were no traces of drugs or alcohol in his system that would’ve killed him, along with no signs of breaking into the home. He was missing his right radius (bone in your forearm), six vertebrae from his spine, his patella (knee cap) and his left ankle. For simplicity, I will stop using all the medical names for the bones in the body. We’re not all anatomy experts, I work on television for God’s sake. Again, there were no signs of injury that would give any indication on how the bones went missing. His coworker didn’t hear from him for three days and couldn’t get into his house. He called the cops and saw his dead body with the officers. I went down to the police station the next day to speak with the chief of police personally, but he was as clueless as I was. He said they’ve been doing everything they can to make a connection or place a person at the crime scenes, but it was getting difficult. They’ve spoken with over 20 people in the past week and gained nothing from it. As we were in the middle of our conversation, a call came in.

The next death was another man. He was found at his dining room table with his meal still on the plate. His lifeless body draped over the chair. There was no blood, no injuries; he looked asleep as far as I was concerned. His wife was questioned but ruled out as a suspect. She was out having dinner with her parents when it happened. Again, an autopsy was performed and revealed he was missing all the bones in four fingers, the bones in his left foot and his left shoulder. I rode along with the officer to the scene and saw the horror in his eyes filled with utter cluelessness.

I went home to investigate online and see if this was a cult tactic or an ancient practice. I was listening to music and reading conspiracy theory blogs when I heard a door in my house open. I assumed it was my wife and went back to reading as if nothing happened. Within seconds, I felt a cold arm around my neck. It squeezed as I flailed my arms around. I looked and reached for my neck but saw nothing more than a black mass. I put my foot against my desk and pushed which knocked me out of my chair. As soon as I hit the ground, the pressure around my neck disappeared and I heard every door from my office to the front door slam shut. My wife came running down to see what happened and I told her I had no clue. I called the police, but their investigation provided nothing. The front door was intact and locked when they arrived.

The following week, two officers were killed. One was sitting on his phone at the front desk and the other was taking his break. Neither showed any signs of trauma but the police cameras caught them thrashing for their lives as it looked like their souls were sucked from their bodies. The total count of missing bones was 16 spine vertebrae, 11 fingers, a right foot, nine ribs, a right shoulder, all three bones in a leg, and a skull. His face was untouched but lay lifeless like an uninflated balloon. The police issued an emergency broadcast the following day pleading people to stay indoors and avoid the areas where these crimes happened. I watched it from my office as I continued to study the crimes and I drew a conclusion. All these murders happened to people when they were most vulnerable. The woman was out alone in the park, the first guy was taking a shower, the other was sitting down to have dinner. I had headphones on when I was attacked, and the two officers were relaxing when they died. It wasn’t the greatest clue, but it was something. I went to the police department immediately. I told the police chief about my findings and he wasn’t thrilled about it. He knew if I was right that their emergency broadcast meant nothing. You could stay inside your house all day, but everyone must sleep, use the restroom, and can’t just have a buddy with them at all hours of the day.

I made another chilling discovery through all of this. There’s almost a full human body worth of bones missing from the victims. Granted, no brains, eyes, tendons, or muscles are missing, so it’s not as if a full functioning human body is going to appear from this, but it’s still horrifying to me.

The next day, another body was found. It was a woman who was grilling herself a meal in the backyard. I’ll save the details, every bone which makes a full body was taken from her; along with her skin. I had to cover the story, it’s a crime to hide this from people who only want to be safe. My story went live, and I got a call from the police department, a new transfer wanted to speak with me in private. I drove over to the station to speak with the new guy but there was something weird about him. His body was a weird shape as if he had a disorder which affected his growth. I also noticed his bones cracked a lot when he walked. It was weird to me, but not enough to mention anything, I didn’t want to offend the poor guy.

We sat down in an uncomfortably small room where he sipped his coffee, sunglasses still hugging his bumpy face.

“So, you’re really looking into these killings.” He said.

“Yeah, I’m a news anchor, this is my job, sir.” I replied.

“Well I’ll have you know I’ve been on the force for over 20 years, I recommend you let me handle this.” He said.

“Why?” I quickly asked.

“Because, I don’t need people like you getting in the way of my business.” He said.

I could tell there was a lot of hostility and tension in the room and the police were a pivotal role in my job.

“Sir, I’m only trying to help you. How could I be a bother?” I asked.

He pulled his sunglasses down to reveal dark holes where his eyes should be. His clenched teeth showed visible gaps as if he didn’t have nearly half a full mouth of teeth. He looked as if he could jump on me in an instant.

“Because, I’ve already tried to kill you once. Don’t make me try again.” He quickly replied.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.

“Because you’re oblivious. Thinking you’re safe in your own home is a lie that everyone falls for. You think that the human body is strong but there are countless possibilities where it can all fall apart. Bones can be broken, tendons torn, simple viruses can send your body into a shellshock causing you to hope some manmade medicine can magically fix you. If you want to live in the deception that you’re safe and nothing will happen to you, that’s where others will find their chance to take advantage. Nobody is safe and life isn’t a guarantee, I’ve proven this several times in the past few weeks.” He said. “I walked these same streets before you were born, and my life was ripped away from me. I’m getting it back, even if I have to do it piece by piece, and there are hundreds like me that are itching for their chance as well. I came up with this idea and gave it a shot. If you think you have a snowball’s chance in hell at stopping us, good luck. Leave me alone and forget about these little coincidences as well.”

“Are you a ghost?” I asked in wild curiosity and fear.

“Well, some people would call me a ghost. Others might say a demon, a poltergeist.” He said. “I don’t worry much about it.”

“How many people will you kill?” I asked.

“I’m done killing, this is my body now. As far as the others, who knows how many they will kill.” He replied, casting neither a worry nor concern. “Get away from here as soon as you can. I was the first one to do it. I risked it all while the others silently watched. Now that they know it’s possible, who knows how many will make their rounds through the next few weeks. Get out of here and take anyone you care about with you. This town belongs to us now.”

[theexceptionaleccentric]

TUA Coffee Shop AU!!! (except there is no Coffee Shop just a Bar) [Part I]

Let’s do another Umbrella Academy headcanon because I don’t want to revise for exams and this is the perfect way to procrastinate!

Just so you know, in this headcanon the kids have no powers and are just normal, everyday kids and they technically aren’t kids (they are teenagers/young adults), but I still intend to refer to them as kids, because they are just so adorable. 

Also - this AU contains some ships, to be precise: Luther/Alison and Five/Vanya and I guess, you could find Klaus/Ben if you really wanted to. However, for controversy’s sake and because I honestly don’t feel like dealing with people telling me what a gross thing my wicked mind came up with or something similarly silly, you can rest assured that they are not actually siblings in this AU. So we all good? I hope we all good.

Also, I’ve never done this, but I feel like I should just to be safe here, so:

Trigger Warning! 

This headcanon talks about child abuse, drug abuse, psychological abuse and domestic violence. None of this is talked about explicitly, but it is mentioned and I understand it can be upsetting to some people. And let’s be honest - it would be difficult to do Normal-Kids AU and keep the characters the same if they didn’t have their trauma.

With that out of the way, let’s proceed to the actual headcanon!

Firstly, all the kids go to the same high school. Luther, Diego and Alison are the oldest and are about to finish their final year and go on to uni. Klaus and Vanya just turned 17, Vanya is one year behind the trio, but Klaus is technically in the same year as them and about to graduate early. Ben is 16 but in the same programme for gifted students as Klaus. Five is the youngest, just 15, but is too smart for his age, also in the special programme, and is going to graduate next year (so technically the same year as Vanya). If it’s confusing, then don’t worry. It will hopefully become clearer as you read on.

Now I should start explaining who actually is related to whom. Five (although in this AU he has an actual name - Quentin, I was thinking Fievel for a bit, but Quentin just sounds more like Five) and Luther are brothers (it is canon in the comics and I found it a fun idea) and their father is Reginald Hargreeves. Luther is older and is finishing high-school, Five is younger than him (he is 15 in this AU), but he is in a programme for gifted students and therefore just one year bellow Luther. 

Problem is, both brothers are currently in a difficult position. Their father was an abusive bastard (because that is the Reginald we know and love) who had been tormenting their mother (Dolores, because in the show she is someone Five actually cares deeply for) their whole life. Their mom took the burn of the physical abuse and did her best to shield the children, so they “only” had to put up with the verbal and psychological abuse. Reginald obviously preferred Luther, the golden boy, the sport-prodigy and the son that never defied him or acted against him. He spoiled Luther rotten and gave him everything he wanted. The younger, quieter, much smarter and much less docile Quentin was a thorn in Reginald’s side. The boy was happy to stand up to him and argue whenever he felt like their father was being unfair to their soft-spoken and loving mother. That behaviour started at a young age. Reginald rarely got him anything, Quentin was used to taking care of himself (he got into the gifted class with his own efforts, because he wanted to have a better chance of snatching a scholarship and stop relying on his father for anything at all). 

It was only when Reginald raised his cane against Quentin in a fit of rage that their mother couldn’t stand it anymore. She decided to take her boys and leave. However, because she was a housewife most of her life, she had little money and not many prospects. The only place she was able to afford at such short notice was a tiny flat with two bedrooms in a dodgy part of town. This flat is in a small building, above a bar that also serves as a night club on weekends (they only hire DJs for three nights in the week). Luther was baffled and furious with everything. He was so sheltered from the horrors happening in their house that he considered their father to be “stern”, but not cruel. He didn’t know about half of the abuse their mom went through (partially because he learnt to turn a blind eye, partially because she did her best not to tarnish the image Luther had of his father, she knew he adored Reginald). He mostly wanted for things to go back to the way they were - with his parents together and his father buying him everything. 

Quentin, on the other hand, was delighted that they finally left. He was not happy with the living situation they ended up in, but he was determined to cope. Anything, anything at all, was better than staying with their father. He was ready to find a job to help mom support them (she had a long road ahead: she was divorcing one of the wealthiest people in the world while fighting for the custody of her children, the court expenses were likely to skyrocket), but Dolores was against the idea. She wanted her children to have a good childhood and didn’t want to burden them. That’s why Quentin decided that he would find a secret job. There must have been a way to juggle work, family and school and he was determined to find it. He ends up as a semi-unofficial bartender at the night club downstairs.

Speaking of the bar there were three important women working there; Eudora and Alison Patch (yes, in this AU they are sisters) and Vanya White. Eudora is the oldest, currently training to become a police officer, just like her father. She works at the nearby bar to earn some pocket money (the bar is actually a pretty safe and quiet place except for the weekends). Alison is the star of their high school theatre club and wants to become an actress, she is going to turn 18 soon, but her dad does not allow her to work at the bar all by herself. She only goes there to help Eudora every now and then and they split the payment when she does. She is also good friends with Vanya (both Patch sisters think about her more like a little sister than anything else) and likes to hang out around the bar when it’s Vanya’s shift just to chat with her. 

Vanya is Klaus’ twin sister. They both come from an abusive household, but the social services took them away from their father a while ago. After the death of their mother, their father started locking the kids up in cupboards or under the stairs like Harry Potter. He would also humiliate and degrade them whenever he could and sometimes beat Klaus up to “fix” his “unnatural” ways. Eventually, Vanya couldn’t stand it and called the cops after their father almost killed Klaus and broke her hand when she attempted to help. Now the kids live in foster care, which isn’t great, but they manage. They don’t live with the best guardians, but they both figured that neglect is better than negative attention from your parental figure, so they do their best to be as invisible as possible. 

Klaus is a really clever kid, but his mind tends to get a little too loud and cluttered and the time with their father left him pretty messed up. He developed claustrophobia and proper PTSD. The few sessions of counselling he got after the police locked their father up were not enough to help him and so he turned to addictive substances to chase “the voices” away. Even though he is undoubtedly outlandish, his brain is still brilliant. He has absolute hearing and eidetic memory, therefore, he can pick up languages and accents the first time he hears them. That is how he got into the same programme for gifted students that Quentin is part of. 

That doesn’t stop him from attempting to numb his mind - sometimes he falls into debt with people in the drug cartel and they roughen him up to remind him he has to pay. Every time that happens, Vanya gives him money to pay them back. Klaus never really questions where exactly she gets the money from and Vanya never tells him that she spends her afternoons and nights working at a bar. She just wants to make sure that her brother, the only family she has left, is alright. 

Vanya desperately wants to study music, but she can only practice at school, because “nobody likes to hear that screeching at home”. So she rarely goes to their foster home. She stays at school until they close and then spends time at the bar. She takes naps in the storage room or in one of the booths after they close up. Vanya is the youngest bartender there, only just turned 17, she lied on her application and pretends she is older than she is (Klaus taught her a thing or two about how to lie). Alison and Eudora know (Vanya goes to the same school as Alison and is part of the theatre orchestra), but Vanya made both of them swear not to tell anyone because she desperately needs the money. The Patch sisters reluctantly agreed, but they don’t like to leave her there by herself and almost never let her take the weekend shifts (the number of drunks, high and overall weird people that flock towards dark, secluded night clubs is incredible). 

Vanya tends to go to this small doughnut shop every morning on her way to school. The shop is co-owned by two lovely ladies, Agnes and Grace. Agnes has a husband, Hazel, but unfortunately, they never managed to have kids, even though they both wanted to. Agnes adores Vanya and eventually (at the end of this AU) convinces her husband to adopt both White siblings. Grace has one son, Diego (because how could I separate these two?), who just about to start attending the police academy. He thinks of Vanya as his little sister and looks after her at school. Eventually, he meets Eudora and finds out that Vanya works at the bar and is outraged at the whole situation, but that doesn’t happen for a long while yet. Vanya also eventually brings Quentin to the doughnut shop and it becomes “their place”. Grace and Dolores eventually meet and bond over what they had to endure in their ill-fated marriages. (Grace’s husband was an army officer and died in action so she knows it is difficult to adjust to life alone, without the support of a spouse.) (And yes, apparently half of the father figures in this AU [except for Alison and Eudora’s dad, Diogo's hero of a father and Ben’s parents] are scum. I haven't even introduced Harold, yet. I just had to account for their traumas somehow.)

If you are wondering about Ben, then I can assure you that unlike most of the others he actually comes from a good, loving family. He is also part of the programme for gifted students and has been friends with Klaus for forever. He is not happy with his best friend’s drug abuse and tries to find ways to help him, but so far he hadn’t come up with a lasting solution. He is not giving up though. He is brilliant in maths and physics which is how he instantly befriends Quentin when the boy starts attending their school, but his favourite subject is literature, more specifically poetry. He and Vanya write songs together for the school musicals and at one point they think of starting a band with Diego.

I know this is really long already, so I am going to do a separate post for the plot of this headcanon. Look up either #Tees Thoughts to see all my crazy Umbrella Academy ideas or #Normellacademy (because I love to give my headcanons the worst names possible) for the second part of this particular headcanon. I will post the plot for this craziness soon.

[dipulb3]

Colorado state Democrats introduce new gun measures in response to Boulder shooting

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/colorado-state-democrats-introduce-new-gun-measures-in-response-to-boulder-shooting/

Colorado state Democrats introduce new gun measures in response to Boulder shooting

“There’s nothing we can do to bring back the lives that were stolen from us. There’s no single policy we can pass that can guarantee no more lives will be taken from us. We also know that we must continue to demand federal action on gun violence prevention. But this cannot be an excuse for inaction,” Colorado Senate Majority Leader Stephen Fenberg said Thursday during a news conference alongside other Democratic sponsors of the bills.

Fenberg’s bill, Senate Bill 256, would repeal a state law prohibiting a local government from imposing bans on the sale, purchase or possession of a firearm. The bill would allow a local government to enact ordinances or regulations banning a firearm so long as it’s “not less restrictive” than state laws.

The 21-year-old suspect in the Boulder massacre allegedly used a Ruger AR-556 pistol — a type of AR-15 rifle but with a shorter barrel. He had purchased the weapon six days before the shooting that killed 10 people, according to his arrest warrant affidavit, and modified the weapon with an arm brace, a law enforcement source had told Appradab.

The March 22 shooting in Boulder drew attention to an ordinance the Boulder City Council had passed in 2018 that banned the sale and possession of assault weapons and large capacity magazines capable of holding more than 10 rounds. A mere 10 days before the Boulder shooting, a Colorado district judge blocked the city from enforcing its ban, saying the ordinance was invalid because state law preempts it.

“We know that this specific policy wouldn’t have single-handedly prevented this specific shooting in Boulder,” Fenberg said Thursday of his bill. “But this example speaks to a larger conversation about the tools we give local governments to craft community-based solutions to the gun violence that they face.”

He argued that each community has the “unique expertise to know what it takes to make them safe” and “deserves the authority to enact laws that get them there.”

House Bill 1298 would require licensed gun dealers to get approval from the Colorado Bureau of Investigation that a background check is complete before transferring a firearm.

The bill requires the bureau to deny approval of a firearm transfer to a person convicted of certain misdemeanor offenses, including third-degree assault, sexual assault, child abuse or a hate crime, within the last five years.

The measure also extends the 30-day deadline to 60 days for the bureau to review and give a final decision in an appeal from someone who is denied a firearms transfer after a background check.

The suspect in the Boulder shooting had passed a background check to purchase the weapon in Arvada, a suburb of Denver, according to the gun shop that sold the suspect the firearm.

The suspect had pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor count of third-degree assault in 2018 after attacking a high school classmate a year earlier, according to court documents and a police report. He was sentenced to one year of probation, 48 hours of community service and anger response treatment, court documents said.

House Bill 1299 creates an “Office of Gun Violence Prevention” within Colorado’s Department of Public Health and Environment to “coordinate and promote effective efforts to reduce gun violence and related traumas and promote research regarding causes of, and evidence-based responses to, gun violence.”

“We need to have data to drive informed decisions and strategies moving forward, especially as it relates to communities of color,” Democratic state Sen. Rhonda Fields, one of the bill’s main sponsors, said Thursday. “We need to be able to track what’s going on and use that information to incorporate as many people as we can to address this dilemma we’re facing.”

Another role of the office, Fenberg said, will be to “engage, educate, intervene in communities on the issues and the policies” that Colorado already has passed “to make them more effective.”

Democrats have full control of Colorado’s government, with a 20-15 majority in the Colorado Senate and a 41-24 majority in the state House, making it likely the three pieces of legislation could pass. The two House bills will be considered in committee next week, and the Senate bill will be taken up the following week, according to a General Assembly spokesperson.

Senate Republicans are just now reviewing the legislation and “will keep an open mind when doing so,” spokesman Sage Naumann said in a statement to Appradab.

“With that being said, we urge our colleagues to focus on mental health funding and programs and not the punishing or restricting of law-abiding, gun-owning Coloradans,” he added.

House Minority Leader Hugh McKean said in a statement that the “rhetoric around these most recent bills, as if they represent the preeminent solution, is simply a fallacy.”

The Republican leader argued that “revamping the background check system” would be “arbitrary” and creating an Office of Gun Violence Prevention will “only starve real efforts of scarce resources. He suggested “a good start to finding solutions” to gun violence “would be to increase the reimbursement rate for mental and behavioral health services.”

“Everyone, Republicans, Democrats, Independents, is sick from the recent incidents of violence. The challenge is to affect change at the root cause. It is not a coincidence that the discussion of mental health is paramount. We have to do more and find avenues that destigmatize and make more readily available mental and behavioral health services,” he said.

Republicans offered three amendments to the state budget this year that would cover access to mental health services. The amendments didn’t make it into the final budget.

Fenberg said at Thursday’s news conference that lawmakers are already focused on mental health and will continue to do so in other legislation “that may not have the word ‘gun’ in it.”

“We’re going to take big steps on mental health this year and in the years to come that I think will have a big impact on this and can play a big role in the Office of Gun Violence Prevention,” he said.

He also appeared to suggest that further gun legislation could be introduced.

Fenberg had told Appradab in late March — while lawmakers were in the “early stages” of discussing gun proposals in the wake of the Boulder shooting — that Democrats were weighing a statewide assault weapons ban, among other policy proposals.

Colorado Democratic Gov. Jared Polis last week signed two bills into law tightening gun regulations — one that requires gun owners to report their lost or stolen firearms within five days and another that mandates owners to “responsibly and securely” store their firearms when not in use, to prevent juveniles and other unauthorized users from accessing them. No Republican lawmakers voted for either of those two bills.

“Colorado is a leader in taking common sense actions that prevent gun violence while preserving people’s 2nd amendment rights, and I look forward to working with legislators on these important next steps,” Polis said in a Friday statement. “While we will need to see final details of the legislation, the common sense strategies proposed by the legislature can be important tools for reducing gun violence. I applaud the legislature for proposing bold, courageous actions to keep Coloradans safer and reduce violent crime.”

Colorado has also implemented an “Extreme Risk Protection Order,” also known as a “red flag” law, and prohibits high-capacity magazines capable of holding more than 15 rounds.

Appradab’s Ray Sanchez, Travis Caldwell, Samira Said, Mallika Kallingal and Whitney Wild contributed to this report.

[socialjusticeartshare]

Lingering trauma: Families separated at border suffer long-term mental health challenges

Doctors say the trauma resulting from family separations can take a toll on children and parents and lead to long-term psychological effects.

BALTIMORE — A father cried uncontrollably during group therapy, recounting how tired he was from the journey of migrating into the United States, from walking, from running, from hiding. He said he felt fear, failure and depression.

“Immigration (officials) took (his son) away from him when he was sleeping,” said Oscar Mejia, a clinical mental health counselor at Hope Health Systems in Baltimore. “That is a desperate feeling, that is a feeling of guilt, because ‘I wanted to protect my child and now I am powerless.’"

Other parents in the group shared their own stories of traveling across the border with their children. ‘I wanted my child to be able to have a better life,’ was a common theme. They all wanted stability, food, housing and education for their kids.

Experiencing the trauma of separation was not part of that better life.

Doctors say the trauma resulting from family separations can take a toll on children and parents and lead to long-term psychological effects, such as anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder and depression. A 2019 report from the nonprofit Physicians for Human Rights asserted that family separation “rises to the level of torture.”

“When I hear these kids talking about those cold rooms where they are placed, this is a form of punishment,” Mejia said. “It is a torture that disfigures the image of a human being that takes away for many children the motivation and trust and desire to continue trying in this life.”

Seneca Family of Agencies, a mental health nonprofit, is leading a nationwide effort to connect migrant families who were held in detention or forcibly separated at the border.

Mejia, who works at one of more than 230 such providers nationwide, has helped two immigrant parents referred by Seneca. Since being awarded a $14 million contract in March, Seneca has worked with 592 migrant families, out of about 2,500 across the United States who are eligible for services.

But COVID-19 has created obstacles to outreach efforts, and Seneca’s free care for children and guardians is set to expire in July. More than three years after the Trump administration began to separate families at the border, immigrant advocates are still trying to track down 628 missing parents.

In the greater Baltimore region, 55 families are receiving free, confidential services conducted in their preferred language.

They include children and parents who had been in detention or experienced family separation. A majority are from Latin America, with Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador being the most represented countries. 

Fear, guilt lead to long-term disorders

Mejia has previous experience helping unaccompanied minors heal from the trauma of migrating alone or being separated from relatives at the border.

“The fear-related, the guilt-related, the sadness related to that separation turns into a post-traumatic stress disorder and to the more severe cases of suicidal ideation and suicide attempts,” he said.

Due to the family separation policy, Lilian from Honduras was apart from her 5-year-old daughter when crossing the U.S. border in 2018. More than a week went by before Lilian was allowed a phone call that lasted two minutes; her daughter was being held in Brownsville, Texas at Casa Padre, a former Walmart converted into a shelter for unaccompanied immigrant children, the largest such facility in the U.S. They were reunited two months later.

Her daughter was afraid of everyone and would scream when she saw an official or police officer. Since relocating to Baltimore, Lilian has been in therapy for the past five months while her daughter has had therapy for the past year. The mother needed to speak to someone to find some peace through the trauma she experienced.

“Your inner self has that opportunity to express and say what you think,” Lilian said. “You think about what you've been carrying, because we all have stress, we all have problems, but we learn to adjust to everything that weighs on us.”

Mejia also has seen a high number of cases of detachment disorder and depersonalization among children. Mejia noted that symptoms range from irritability to angry outbursts, lack of positive emotions, nightmares and problems with concentration.

Stigma reduces requests for care

The intersection of mental health and immigration is rarely discussed. Stigma, lack of access to care and language barriers contribute to the disparity in mental health care. Only 33% of Latinos with a mental illness receive treatment compared to the U.S. average of 43%, according to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration.

Stigma and negative perceptions of mental health illness keep members of these communities from speaking about their problems and getting professional care. Lilian said talking about negative feelings is not a common part of Latino culture.

Lilian’s advice for migrants who need mental health support and are fighting to adapt to life in a new country, is to see a psychologist.

“People think it's because you're crazy or because you're sick,” Lilian said. “But no, you really need to talk, you need to release what you have suffered, so you can feel clean, and feel good inside.”

Stephanie Garcia covers issues relevant to Latinx communities for The Baltimore Sun. This dispatch is part of a series called “On the Ground” with Report for America, an initiative of The GroundTruth Project. Follow her on Twitter: @hagiastephia.

Article Source

[daysofourlies]

let me just start off by saying this is absolutely in no way meant to be a dig or to make you out to be anything but what you are... which to me, is a perfect cúnt that I am so unbelievably in love with. let’s begin, as if you hadn’t been here to experience it, shall we???

you have been my best friend, my actual best friend, for yearssssss... since we were 9? 10? 8? who knows. I can’t even begin to think of my life before you were in it... that’s such a sad yet beautiful concept. I adore looking at photos of us throughout the years as we both change apperance, personality and lifestyles, yet we were still one. is that not insane to you? you hated my boyfriends bc they were dîcks and I hated your girlfriend bc she was intense. yet we were best friends and best friends support. my family always joked that we should date... that it would be “so cute”... but I couldn’t do that... you were the bad boy as you got older and I was little miss angel who didn’t fit that role. and as we were taught, growing up in the same church, you date to marry... you marry to have a family... you take care of your husband and spoil him like as king of the household and protect your wife as your queen. I didn’t see you in that light back then... you were just you.

but the older we got. the more mature we got. I could see it. but you were hers and I was his. I was planning on living that life for him, until I didn’t. but she was planning to live that for you, and you made it official. she stole your heart and adopted your last name and I had to sit in the audience of your beautiful wedding and refuse to look at you looking at her the way I dreamed of you looking at me. I was gutted. and it confused me. why did it have to cut like that??? we had never even kissed but you were the first boy to hold my hand... the first boy to give my butterflies and the first boy to make me jealous. my chances were out the window at this point. but you were still my best friend and that wasn’t going to change.

until it did. we got closer... and closer... and closer. sharing too deep of thoughts, too intimate of secrets, too secretive of conversations... I began thinking of you as I was tangling myself in my sheets, I automatically wanted to tell you first when something happened, when I thought I was having someone else’s child- it was you who I asked to take that role- you were the only other person I would want in that place, when the time allowed- I jumped at the opportunity to talk to you in an empty parking lot... that was uncalled for. you weren’t mine, you were hers. I couldn’t fall any more for a married man than I already had.

it was easy to move on, only because I had no other choice. but your marriage ended and I easily could have been yours if you asked me to... so why didn’t I? because we live in a small town, where people talk... I couldn’t be the “reason” your marriage ended, my family said I looked like a homewrecker for even being such a good friend to you, she hated me enough as it was... I didn’t want to be hated even more and I didn’t want her to hate you to begin with. it didn’t seem reasonable. but you got back out there and I became jealous. no one could give you the life I’ve wanted to since I was 17 years old. but, on the other hand, maybe I couldn’t even give you the life you deserved. so I tried to fix you up with my friends, because if I couldn’t have you, at least someone I know could. but you never wanted them, did you? you confessed your love for me over and over. you confessed your love for me to my best friend. you proved your loyalty to me before anything even began. but you told me you couldn’t be friends with me, you couldn’t even speak to me, if I wasn’t fully yours. and it wasn’t until I was explaining this to your “potential” new girl that it hit me like a ton of bricks. it’s been long enough and if you’re going to move on, please move on to me. it was always you and me. I’m ready. and so are you. I couldn’t be friends with you either, if you weren’t fully mine, because I know my damn worth and dammit I’m worth it. I had made excuses that I liked being alone... but really it was because I liked where we were and I didn’t want to mess that up or give my all to someone and be seen as a joke yet again. I made the excuse that there wasn’t anything I could give you that you hadn’t had... but that’s not true... I have so much to give and want only you to have it. I made the excuse that I didn’t think it was for us... but who am I to judge that?

I thought you saw that. from the first time you kissed me on your porch and we both, I would talk for myself but this is about us and what you as a human have told me, felt as if the world stood still. neither one of us had felt such a connection and we couldn’t be apart. so we weren’t. it was us against the world. you were begging to see me and I was craving more of you. you opened up to me, more than you ever had, which I didn’t know could happen, and I fell even harder. to see your scars and to see your struggles... I didn’t see them as trauma or red flags... I saw them as growth and purity. I began automatically considering how to make a life with them as your hurt and your pain... I would change the way I did things and make your life seemingless... i didn’t want you to ever consider them when I was around, I wanted to help you see your growth rather than focus on your demons. I wasn’t fixing you, I didn’t need to... that is why I fell in love. in. love. then we got physical. something I wasn’t planning on doing... for a long time. not because I didn’t want to, oh I had wanted to for a very long time, but I didn’t think I would fit to your taste. you liked a certain type of sex and so did I... but was I enough? then I decided I was enough... that maybe I don’t even know myself and maybe you put on a little more than you meant but either way, I was ready. we fit. we were home. weren’t we??? I began shopping for new lingerie that only you would have seen, I bought a bondage necklace to show I could be darker and kinkier than you expected, I had fantasies that I had planned to play out... I trusted you and wanted only you to have that side of me. but that wasn’t the only thing I planned... I had a getaway trip planned that had been on my bucket list, that I wanted to experience with you. I had dinners ready to make, games to play, date nights to enjoy... I saw a life with you in the midst of a few weeks. you are a police officer, one of the most dangerous professions, so I studied... I began seeing that side of life differently and taking your life that much more serious than I ever had. you’re a dad... I am definitely not putting myself in a mom position but I was preparing myself to make a tiny new friend. you have many mental illnesses, many of which resemble my many mental illnesses... but I’ve been around you since they began, I know how to handle them and if I don’t, shīt, I’m about to learn how to now. I knew, for a fact, that we were real and if we were together, we wouldn’t split.

until a risky text popped up that made me feel uneasy. I felt uneasy because everything I thought about me not being good enough, came back. that you weren’t satisfied with me and were giving your energy to other females. but you didn’t like that my insecurities got in the way and you blamed me. that this was your life and you didn’t need to explain anything to me because she was your best friend, she was the one you’ve had these adventures with, she’s the one who saved your life, she is the one who knows you better than anyone, she is......... everything that I’m not. so yeah, fück me, right? what am I good for? I never said you would cheat, I had no reason to... but you’ve been cheated on, right? where her “bff” was “just her bff”............ the same bff that she is exclusive with now that you two aren’t together.... I tried to tell you how it made me feel but apologized for any harm, and you continued to blame me. then you left.

and every little thing after that was my fault. you didn’t want to be with me anymore. you would rather be a single dad who went to work as a cop and came home to nothing. you didn’t want to think of anyone other than yourself. I was a petty a$$ who you didn’t even want to associate with. you said I assumed the worst and if I thought one way, to hell with it because you didn’t have the time of day to reassure me otherwise. so again, I apologized. asking for you back. making new plans, because this is 2020, we don’t have to live life the way we always had. if you wanted your space, you could have it as long as you were still mine, you could hang out with whoever you wanted and if they had your attention they could enjoy it if you came home to me, if you didn’t want to spend time with me............... no, fück that..... why am I giving and giving and giving with nothing in return? it hurt me and you, the one who has never belittled me, continued to show that I wasn’t worth the fight. I wanted you, I wanted to treat you like the king of the household- to spoil you and surprise you and live life next to you, not behind you on the back burner. whether someone had your attention or not, I lost you. you didn’t have to unfriend your bff but compromise is what relationships do, to have proven your loyalty to me just in case was all I asked for. for you to see it from my side and why it made me hurt. if you wanted to spend your day off with your boys, good!!! I want to spend time with my girls.... but I would also hope you would want to spend time with me too at some point but you didn’t...? you went weeks. the many hours we have at the same time, free, you used up. I wanted you at a family gathering and you slept through it. I asked to come over, or you come to me, but you were too cozy in bed to be bothered. I wanted to be fought for every day like I was fighting for you. buying you snacks and putting them on your porch, bringing you a gift just because I was thinking of you, buying myself lingerie for you to enjoy or earrings that were police related to show my support, sending paragraphs of how much I loved you unconditionally, how proud I am and how I truly wanted nothing but happiness for you... even if it wasn’t me. so every day, I woke up, hoping for a note on my car, flowers at work, a random drop by before work....... a text even saying just to say I love you. nothing. instead, all I got was an argument and how it was easy for you to let people leave if they wanted to, even if that person was me... even.... if that person.... was me. I decided to speak up, finally, because for some reason I’ve been quiet and I never am. I straight up told you what I felt was your problem... you got scared. scared that you saw true happiness, you saw that I wasn’t like your exes or someone you thought I might be, you saw that a relationship was easily forming and being single sounded more cool. you saw how much you relaxed when I was around and how your demons weren’t as prominent and their presence was more fulfilling that mine. you didn’t like the fact that someone was taking the spotlight away from your trauma and the attention that you were getting from anyone else would be gone. I hate to say it, but you know I’m right. that if you were to kiss me, right now, the world would go silent once again. but guess what, I deserve better. so this is me telling you to do better... for me... because you are the only one I want. I don’t need you, but god do I need you and how I wished you needed me. but so does everyone else, I guess. you know you’re wanted and can have anyone, so you would rather have the freedom to have those options. so-and-so said she knows that she is better for you than me, so who am I to argue and chase someone who isn’t there???

so I gave up. and it made considering my suicide easier. and you, being one of four people that I reached out to, made me realize that my plan to end my life truly was worth it. and it hit me, when I woke up and unfortunately saw the light of day, that you aren’t mine... and I can’t have you. I wasn’t needed by you, craved by you, missed by you... but that doesn’t have to mean anything... you’re still my best friend. if you want someone else, I’ll have to stand by and watch her live the life I wanted, again. if you want to distance yourself from anyone and everyone and it be easy for you to let me walk, I won’t force myself into your heart and brain. if you aren’t dying to check my Instagram stories, Twitter feed, Snapchat and snap scores... like I do you, why am I making myself sick to my stomach hoping for you to reach out to me? so here’s to to not wishing hoping praying and begging God to bring you back, because if your heart isn’t shattered with my absence and the thought of me kissing someone else doesn’t make your stomach drop, nothing I can say will change your mind. you deserve so much love, but I deserve true love. the love I was so obsessed with giving. the unconditional love that I felt for you. because I’m not a walk in the park either. but you said you don’t have that in you... so everything you said couldn’t be true or this wouldn’t be happening, right? because if I was “the one” and you have “dreamt of this” and you “can’t fūck it up” and you were going to “take care of me”... then what changed? for telling you my struggles and insecurities when it came to guys, you feeding into my mind that I needed someone like you, a man, to take care of me and to neverrrrr let me feel so low about myself... lmao, yet here you are, stomping me ground harder than any guy has before because unlike them, who used me... you just changed your mind in a split second. or are you fighting yourself harder than you’re fighting me? replay our old Marcos, listen to the words you said to me... look at the smile you shined... your eyes popping... can you truly ignore that?

here’s the thing though... I would take you back in a heartbeat, because I love you from the bottom of my soul, and I knowwww you... and this “you” that has been present the past month, isn’t him, but lord, I wish you felt this feeling. I can’t put the job of creating my happiness in someone else, but having someone who makes my life the happiest, gone? sucks the rest of the lifeless life out. and it’s exhausting. so let me give you the life you deserve... but I need you to give me the life I deserve back. the life you have promised me before. the life you have been “dying” to give someone. because I know you have it in you... don’t let the world tell you otherwise. relationships are hard, they take trial and error but it also takes strength, compromise, understanding and adjustments. is it worth that journey? because if we fail, we fail, but we both know we won’t. I absolutely puke at the fact that I’m giving you the option to choose our path instead of saying “lmao stfu, youre being a dîck, we are going to be together and this is how we are going to do it and youre gunna like it” but if this isn’t what you desire, I wouldn’t even consider forcing myself onto someone who doesn’t want me. and yet again, all I can do is fight and fight and fight but I’m screaming at a brick wall. why am I torturing myself???

so, now that we have relived our history... let me know so we can cut the shît because this cold shoulder nonsense is heavy and I can’t take it. our stubborn prideful a$$es can’t one up each other much longer. so, E, what’s the damn verdict??????? is my Prince Charming going to flash those sirens and pull me over and kiss me against his cruiser, if you need time- tell me how long because I will wait and wait but I need you to understand my way to do so, do I have my best friend back and ready to help me swipe right and left as we dab each other up or is this goodbye and good riddence?